Chapter 4

As the weeks dragged on, Molly' s grades went into a free fall. Her teachers called home, reporting missed assignments and failed quizzes. Debra, however, interpreted this not as a consequence of Molly' s laziness or the restrictive rules, but as a sign that the Devil was working even harder to distract her "pious child."

Her solution was not to ease the rules, but to double down on them.

One evening at dinner, she announced a new revelation. "Molly, the Lord has shown me another vanity that is holding you back. Your daily showers."

Molly and I both froze, our forks halfway to our mouths.

"Bodily vanity is a sin," Debra continued, her eyes gleaming with manic conviction. "You are spending too much time concerned with the flesh. It distracts from God' s plan for you. From now on, you will bathe only once a week, on Saturday evening, to be clean for the Sabbath."

Molly looked horrified. "But Mama... school... people will..."

"People will see a girl devoted to the kingdom of God, not the kingdom of this world!" Debra snapped. "This is a test of your faith, Molly. A sacrifice to show the Lord you are serious about receiving his blessing on your exams."

Desperate and seeing no other way out of her academic spiral, Molly complied. The results were immediate and disastrous. Within a few days, a sour smell clung to her. Her hair grew greasy and lank. The taunts at school became merciless. People would visibly recoil when she walked past.

Meanwhile, my practice test scores were climbing. I left one of my marked-up practice exams on my desk, a 1550 staring up from the page. Debra saw it when she came in to collect our laundry.

"Don' t be prideful, Gabrielle," was all she said, her lips thin. "Pride comes before the fall."

She then turned to Molly, who was miserably picking at her fingernails. "I bought you something to help with your stress, my sweet girl." She handed Molly a new leather-bound journal. "A prayer journal. Write down your conversations with the Lord. He will give you strength."

I knew exactly what it would be used for. Molly took it with a grateful murmur, but I saw the flicker in her eyes. It wouldn' t be filled with prayers. It would be filled with complaints, with fantasies, with all the bitter resentment she felt. It would be her diary.

My mother saw my high score as a threat, a sign of worldly pride. She saw Molly' s failure as a spiritual battle, rewarding her with gifts and praise. The divide between us was no longer just a crack; it was a canyon. And I was fine with that. I just kept studying, counting down the days until the exam.