Wishing Pearl Read online

  Olivia thumbed through the pages while he talked. “Uh, hold on a sec. According to this schedule, it looks like we have to get up at six every single day? I never get up that early. Ever.” What would they do to her if she overslept?

  “That’s right. Everyone gets up early to start the day off with the sunrise. Except for Saturdays when you can sleep until eight o’clock.”

  Ooh! How generous. “Why so early though? Don’t teenagers need extra sleep?” Olivia fought to keep down the sarcasm in her voice.

  “Most teens sleep so late in the morning because they’re up too late at night. We make sure that doesn’t happen here at Diamond Estates. It all works out.”

  Olivia slumped back in her chair. This was not going to be easy.

  “Also about mornings, you’ll notice you’re allotted thirty minutes to shower and dress for the day. If you need more than that—many girls seem to—”

  You think?

  “—then you’ll need to rise earlier or find a way to shorten your morning routine.” Ben riffled through his own copy of the schedule. “At six thirty, you’re to be in the prayer commons. We have an hour of scripture reading and prayer every single day. That’s the one thing that never, ever changes.”

  Olivia nodded slowly. What had she gotten herself into? Mom had offered to take Olivia back home if she had second thoughts and wanted to leave. Home meant no curfew, no chores, no alarm clock on the weekends—no prayer time encroaching on her sleep. But home also meant Charles. No thanks. Plus there were other reasons she’d come to Diamond Estates. Olivia had to keep reminding herself of those things so she wouldn’t lose sight of the goal. Change. Faith. Hope. Important goals, right? Only time would tell if they were worth it.

  “When prayer time’s over, you go to breakfast. At eight thirty, after the meal and the cleanup, school starts. On Saturdays it would be ten thirty by then and you’d leave for an activity of some kind. Horseback riding, skiing, shopping—whatever the staff has planned. I think tomorrow is snowshoeing.”

  Oh joy. Tromping through snow with webbed feet and a bunch of people she didn’t know sounded like great fun.

  “Sundays after breakfast, we head down the mountain to church.”

  Olivia’s jaw dropped. “You mean we’ll go to a real church?”

  “Sure. Why is that such a surprise?”

  “I just assumed we would stay here most of the time. Like, you would do church here.” Olivia shuddered at the thought of the whole group filing into a public church. People would know they came from Diamond Estates. They’d be like those prison cleanup crews in orange jumpsuits on the roadside. How embarrassing.

  “Nope. We join the real world for church.” Ben winked. “You’ll love it.”

  The hint of laughter that always laced his words made things seem less intense, but Olivia had no plans to let her guard down. This place was hard-core whether Ben would admit it or not.

  He put his calendar on the desk. “This might seem very rigid. I don’t want you to worry though. We do like a lot of structure around here, but we also love to throw in some changes now and then just to keep things lively.”

  Mom sat up straighter. “Okay, so that’s the schedule. What about the rules?”

  Ben swiveled his chair and slid it across the plastic mat. He reached into his file cabinet and pulled out a few sheets of paper. “This is the part everyone hates, but it’s necessary.”

  It couldn’t possibly be worse than the schedule.

  “Here’s a copy of the rules.” Eyes sparkling, Ben handed one to each of them and then sat back with his hands behind his head again.

  He didn’t have to enjoy this so much, did he?

  Olivia scanned the list of ten items. Oh boy, this ought to be good. Moving her eyes back to the top, she read each word carefully.

  1. No smoking, alcohol, or drug use of any kind.

  Duh. We covered the smoking issue last time. But don’t they even let people smoke in prison?

  2. No lying, cheating, stealing, or fighting.

  What’s left?

  3. Absolutely no leaving the premises without permission and an escort.

  Heaven forbid.

  4. No dating or fraternizing with boys at church or other activities.

  That settles the question about Justin’s availability.

  5. Strict adherence to wardrobe guidelines is required at all times. See attached dress code.

  Can’t wait to see that.

  6. You will be on time to all scheduled activities.

  If the stars line up just right and I don’t have to share a bathroom with anyone, maybe.

  7. You will exercise adequate hygiene procedures—hand washing, regular showers, laundering your clothes, etc.

  Gross! The fact that it has to be a rule must mean some girls don’t do those things.

  8. You will always speak respectfully to staff members and kindly to residents.

  Or …?

  9. You will act appropriately and politely at all times, on and off the estate grounds.

  Blah. Blah. Blah.

  10. You will put forth your best effort in all things: schoolwork, spiritual growth (prayer, Bible study, etc.), chores, recreation.

  So in other words, my life is over?

  Olivia put the paper down on her lap and lifted her eyes, trying not to let the dismay show on her face, but not sure she succeeded. As long as she didn’t cry. Anything but that.

  “I think you’ve seen that the rules aren’t anything unexpected.” Ben smiled, his eyes dancing. “Do you have any questions?”

  “They mentioned a dress code?” Olivia’s stomach churned. She couldn’t believe she’d asked for this life. How would a dress code and a ridiculous schedule help her find God?

  Ben handed her another sheet of paper. “Again, nothing unexpected, I’m sure.” He ticked items off on his fingers. “If you hang your arms down to your sides, the hems of your shorts and skirts can’t be higher than your fingertips. You’re allowed to wear one set of earrings—no other body piercings. Makeup can’t be extreme, gothic, or gaudy.”

  Who decides what’s gaudy?

  “Spaghetti straps or strapless tops aren’t allowed, and the straps of undergarments must always be covered. And no bare midriffs whatsoever.”

  “What about her hair?” Mom gestured to the purple streak. “Are you going to make her get rid of that?”

  Olivia froze, her eyes still on the paper. Now, that could be a deal breaker.

  Ben shook his head. “No, probably not. We allow some forms of personal style as long as it’s tasteful.” He turned to Olivia and looked her in the eyes. “We’re not trying to fit you into a mold. We just want to help you become a healthy expression of who God made you to be.”

  Olivia forced herself to look into Ben’s eyes. What would he say when he found out what Olivia already knew? God didn’t care about her.

  Ben stood up. “Shall I show you to your room?”

  Chapter 15

  Weren’t you supposed to walk down to a dungeon? Eerie sconces flickered dancing shadows onto the stone walls of the stairway leading up to the bedroom quarters. Ben went first, carrying Olivia’s largest suitcase. Mom followed, and Olivia trailed behind, half expecting to hear the sounds of moaning or clinking chains.

  Ben broke the awkward silence with his booming voice. “Typically, this staircase is off-limits to visitors and even to me for the most part. I rarely have a need to approach the girls’ rooms and find it’s much better if I don’t. I only come up here if I’m giving a tour or signing in a new resident, and only then if the girls are cleared out.”

  Good. No midnight visitors.

  He opened the door at the top, letting bright natural light bathe the dark stairway. “These doors aren’t locked until every girl is out for the day, and then they’re unlocked when it’s okay for them to be up here.”

  Olivia nodded and stepped through the door he held open, following Mom into a gleaming hallway. The skylights over
head let in the sunlight beaming on the white walls. Not a single stone anywhere. No candles either. Finally, some sense of modern. Three white doors lined each side of the hallway with a seventh door at the end. Olivia ran her hand along the smooth wall as they walked toward the first door.

  Ben passed it and opened the second one then stepped back for them to look inside. “Each room is exactly the same. There are two sets of bunk beds. The two dressers and desks are shared by the same two girls who share the bed. The closet is divided into four parts. Each room has a bathroom with a double sink and a shower.”

  No jetted tub? Two of these rooms shared by four girls would fit into her private bedroom in Charles’s house—with some room left over, probably. Could have been worse though. Olivia had expected a dormitory-style area with rows of metal cots like in war movies. At least she’d only have to battle three others for bathroom space—better than twenty or more.

  Ben motioned for them to step into the room. “This one has an opening. I think you already met your roommates, as a matter of fact.”

  Olivia heaved her backpack up to one shoulder and stepped inside. The remains of someone’s flowery perfume lingered. Better that than the smell of sweat socks or someone in need of rule number seven. On the right side of the room, one bed had a floral comforter with little hearts on vertical vines and a fuzzy pink heart pillow. Olivia couldn’t help but roll her eyes at the wall space around that top bunk, which had been hosed with pictures of puppies, dolphins, and ocean scenery. The girlie girl who slept there must have long hair because every imaginable color of claw hair clips gripped the length of the white bedrail.

  The lower bunk had an orange blanket with purple and brown throw pillows. Pictures covered the wall inside the bunk area. Olivia peered a bit closer at the group photo of what appeared to be a large family of mostly African Americans. They looked like nice and happy people—smiling like someone had just told a joke. Olivia realized for the first time that she’d never really known a black person before—there weren’t many at her school.

  Right in the center of about eight kids of all different ages sat Tricia, the gorgeous girl she’d met the last time she’d been there. Tricia flashed pearly white teeth, showing off supermodel good looks. What could she have done to have landed herself at Diamond Estates? With such a big, happy—seemingly loving—family, what did she have to worry about? Ju-Ju had said that Tricia liked boys too much. How much too much?

  So if the bottom bunk belonged to Tricia, the cutesy stuff above must be Skye’s. Which meant … Oh no. Olivia pivoted in slow motion toward the other side of the room, afraid to look at the bed. The top bunk sat untouched. Her eyes roved to the bottom, and dread sank like an anchor in her stomach.

  “You can just set your things down here.” Ben pointed to the space in front of the bed. “Your bunk mate, Julia—Ju-Ju—can show you what to do with it later.”

  Olivia’s mouth hung open as she stared at Ben. Surely he was joking. He couldn’t possibly mean that of every possible roommate in the whole place, Olivia had to share a bunk bed with a girl who already hated her. What had begun to look like a bleak existence of rules and dress codes was rapidly graduating to impossible. Were things going to work out after all? Could she live under those conditions?

  Yes. She could. No matter what Ju-Ju or any of the other girls threw at her, she could handle it. After all, she’d endured living with Charles for years.

  “You’re awfully quiet, Olivia.” Ben leaned back against the wall. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “I’d like to know, too.” Mom stared at Olivia’s face.

  Feeling her eyes stinging and her chin about to quiver—quiver? She wasn’t four years old. Olivia tried to keep her composure. It wouldn’t help at all if Mom saw her cry. And what if the girls came up here? No tears. “I … I just don’t know.

  It’s so different than what I’m used to.” Olivia bit her lip. “There are so many rules and so many girls. What if they all hate me?” One already does.

  Ben nodded. “Some might.”

  Mom gasped and stared at Ben with her mouth hanging open.

  “Listen. This is the real world. When you put twenty to thirty girls under one roof, there are going to be personality clashes. That’s just the way it is. We’ll help you cope with those things.”

  This is insane.

  “However, you’ll forge some friendships here, maybe even some unlikely ones, that will stick with you for the rest of your life.” Ben paced the room. “Time and time again I get letters and calls from girls who share with me that in some ways their time here was the hardest time of their lives.”

  Oh? How comforting. Olivia rubbed at a snag in the berber carpet with the toe of her shoe.

  “But they also say it was the absolute best time of their lives in the most important ways.” Ben placed his hands on her shoulders and stared into her face. “You see, it’s the contrast of God’s hand reaching out to you and finding you against the backdrop of life’s pain and struggles that makes the experience so rich. Since you and the other girls are being honed in similar fashion, you come out of the refinement process united in a special way.”

  He dropped his hands and shrugged. “The choice is yours. You might as well give it a chance. What have you got to lose?”

  He’s right. The alternative held no greater promise. If she left Diamond Estates before at least giving it a try, her life would be in shambles. At least here she had some hope. Olivia nodded. “I’ll stay.” For now anyway.

  “Okay. This is it, then. Time to say good-bye to Mom.” Ben gave a brisk nod. “It’s best to make a clean break—like pulling off a Band-Aid—rather than a long, drawn-out farewell.”

  Mom paled, and her eyes filled with tears.

  Ben strode to the door. “I’ll step outside for a moment, and then I’ll walk you out, Mrs. Whitford.” He pulled the door almost closed behind him.

  “Are you sure, Livvie?” Mom grasped Olivia’s hands and searched deep into her eyes. “This is what you want?”

  Not what she wanted, but what she needed. “I’ll be okay.” Hopefully Olivia sounded more confident than she felt.

  “All right. I’ll be in Denver for three days—my flight is on Monday morning. If you need me, you call me and I’ll come get you.”

  Olivia nodded and held her gaze. What else, Mom? Tell me you’re sorry. Tell me you’ll fix it all and make life right for us. Please.

  Gulping back a sob, Mom rushed through the doorway without looking back.

  Olivia stood in the center of her new room and waited for tears, but none came. The time for crying had passed. It was time to square her shoulders and face the unknown like a big girl. Should she unpack? But that would mean looking for empty drawers, and the last thing she wanted was for someone to come in and think she was snooping around in her things. She could at least make up her bed.

  Thankful Mom had insisted she pack her favorite blankets and pillows, Olivia opened the duffel bag that held the vacuum-sealed packages. She unzipped the one that held the squished comforter. It let out a big swoosh as it took in air and puffed up to full size while she tried to tuck her luxury king-sized sheets around her twin-sized mattress. The extra material bunched in clumps under the mattress and made it too lumpy, so she pulled the sheet off and folded it in half. That was better. Sheet in place, Olivia flapped her comforter in the air and watched it sail into place over the bed.

  The door opened and Ju-Ju stepped inside with her arms folded across her chest. “Well, well. Looky here.” She snapped her gum.

  Skye followed her inside. “We told ya you’d be back ree-ul soon.”

  Why hadn’t Olivia noticed Skye’s Southern drawl before? Must have been too nervous. So she’d be living with a Southern belle, a beauty queen, and a bulldog? Fun times.

  “Hi, Skye. Hi, Tricia.” Olivia nodded at the shy but beautiful black girl hiding behind Skye.

  “What? No hello to me? I’m the welcome wagon.” Ju-Ju popped
her gum again.

  “I wouldn’t say hi to you either, if I were her. You’re not being friendly at all.” Skye put her arm around Olivia’s shoulders. “Don’t mind Ju-Ju. She acts tough, but she’s really an old softy once you get to know her.”

  Ju-Ju snorted. “You’d be hard as nails, too, if you’d raised yourself living on the streets of New York. Kinda hafta be.”

  Tricia narrowed her eyes behind the longest eyelashes Olivia had ever seen. “These aren’t the streets though. You can cut the act and get real for once.”

  “Anyway …” Skye glared at them. “We have a new roommate, and Ben asked us to show her the ropes. So let’s quit the bickering.” She surveyed Olivia’s stuff.

  “These are yours.” Tricia pulled open the top three drawers of the dresser and then shot Ju-Ju a look. “If someone would get her junk out of them.”

  “They weren’t being used. So what?” Ju-Ju scooped up some paperback books, a few framed photographs, a pair of fingerless leather gloves, and some other items Olivia didn’t recognize and shoved them under her bed, then turned and pointed her finger in Olivia’s face. “Listen. You need to get one thing straight.” The tiny little spitfire put her hands on her hips and bobbed her dark curls from side to side as she talked. “Don’t you even think about touching my stuff. Got it?”

  Or what? “Yeah. I get it. I’m not going to touch your stuff or anyone else’s. But not because you said so.” Olivia pointed her finger at Ju-Ju. “Now you get one thing straight. Don’t ever point that finger at me again. I’ll treat you with respect if you do the same. Simple as that.”

  “So it is true—you got that nasty scar in a knife brawl like the other girls said.” Ju-Ju closed her mouth, spun around, and huffed out of the room. No one said anything until the sound of her stomps had faded into the distance.

  Olivia exhaled. That went well. “What’s her problem?”

  “Oh, go easy on Ju-Ju. She’s really had it rough.” Skye’s smile wavered at the corners.