that.” She glanced at me signifi cantly. Our schools were having a candy selling contest. I’d seen some of the candy in the back seat. “ I know what,” I said. “ Let’s sell candy. Every little bit helps, and we’ve got to beat the juniors in this contest.” The girls seemed relieved. They thought I’d only been joking about going to Tony’s. They didn’t know what this good girl, Pam Parker, was capable of. I had a little plot. “ Swing back in front of the store and lend me a dime,” I said inno cently. “ I’ll phone the folks from the booth.” “ I’ll be a little late,” I told Mom. “Deb has her folks’ car. We’re going to sell candy. Karen is alone, too.” “Well, you’re in good company,” Mom’s voice came back into my ear. “ I hope you sell a lot. A hamburger? Okay. Have a good time.” Nothing to it. Mom didn’t sus pect a thing. Why should she? I’d always been so predictable. She didn’t know I was tired of always being that way. We parked the car and went house- to-house down one block. We sold candy at two houses, and I pocketed the money. No law against my using it until payday. We didn’t have to turn in the candy or the money for two weeks yet. Headed for Zip’s for burgers, I told Deb, “ Let me off at Tony’s, please. I said I wanted to go and I meant it.” “ I’m not letting you out here,” Deb said. “ You are, too,” I shot back. I guess both friends were shocked at my insistence. I sort of shocked even myself. Anyway, I finally got Deb to stop and I jumped out. “You won’t stay,” said Deb. “We’ll drive around the block and pick you up.” Gaily, I waved her off. I felt free. No Mom or Dad, no preacher, no body to order me away from the place. I was on my own! After all, I’d be eighteen on my next birthday. I had to make my own decisions sometime. Bright-colored lights were strung along the parking lot. Kids my age were milling around, most of them headed for the entrance to Tony’s. Hot music drifted from the open door. The kids were in couples or in groups, and there was a lot of loud laughing. I noticed a girl puffing on a cigarette. I knew she was only a junior. It sort of nauseated me, her trying to act so sophisticated. I didn’t go inside at once. I sort of hesitated, taking everything in— the lights, the music, the laughter, the smoking. Was that staggering
man drunk? Deb and Karen cruised by slowly, and I knew they were looking for me. “ So this is what I’ve been miss ing,” I said to myself. I kept looking and listening. Everything was so bright and festive and shadowy and exciting. The dancers inside Tony’s drifted past the open door—happy, hilarious, having fun. And as I sort of soaked up the at mosphere, the sounds, the sights, the smells of the place, I made a discov ery: I’d been missing a lot—and I was glad! Suddenly, being inside Tony’s was the last thing I wanted. I found it hard to put my feelings into words. After thinking about it, I’m sure it was because Christ was in my heart. He wouldn’t have been comfortable in me in there. Kids were still laughing, but now their laughter sounded hollow. They may have thought they were having fun, I don’t know. But their shallow laughter amid all the tinsel and glit ter wouldn’t have been fun for me. I wanted to get out of there—fast! But I was stranded. Deb and Ka ren had given up and gone for ham burgers without me, I guess. I got out a dime and headed for a nearby phone booth. I’d ask Dad to come get me—but quick. And would you be lieve it? While the phone was ring ing, I saw a red Volkswagon park in front of the drugstore next to Tony’s and out stepped my Dad. I banged the receiver down and hur ried out, not bothering to pick up the dime that clattered back for the uncompleted call. “ Dad,” I yelled. “ Am I ever glad to see you!” I puffed as I neared him. “ I didn’t want to go into Tony’s after all!” Dad looked bewildered. Finding me here and listening to my jumbled words didn’t make much sense to him. But after he got his prescrip tion refilled and we were heading home, I told him everything that had happened. The experience made me do a lot of thinking. I’m glad I didn’t actu ally get involved. I saw enough from the sidelines to know it wasn’t for me. And so I decided to go on letting my friends know exactly where I’d be. School on weekdays; at work on Tuesday, Friday and Saturday; Sun day School, church and Young Peo ple’s on Sunday. I’m still predicta ble Pam, but a little wiser one, and a lot happier!
I WAS TIRED o f a lw a y s b e in g g o o d ! Anybody who knew me could pre dict where I would be and what I would be doing at almost any given time: school on weekdays, working at the Thrift-Mart 5 to 9 on Tues days and Fridays and all day Satur day, Sunday School and church on Sunday mornings, Young People’s and church Sunday night. Then a new week and the same routine all over again. I snatched up a plastic bag and dug it open. Popcorn kernels clat tered against the sides of the ma chine. I turned the switch to “ on,” then measured out pecans to add later. Soon the smell of fresh Pecan Puff — carameleom with pecans — would penetrate the huge Thrift- Mart store and customers would start drifting my way. Anybody who knew me could also p r e d i c t what I wouldn’t do, I thought. I wouldn’t be seen at Tony’s Dance Hall, for example, where lots of the high school kids went. Or would I ? What was so terrible about dancing? Here I was a high school senior, and I’d never been to a dance. I could almost hear the buzz: “You’d never guess who I saw going into Tony’s last Friday night!” “Not Pam Parker! She doesn’t even dance. She’s a Christian and her folks . . .” “May I help you? It’s still warm! Two bags of Pecan Puff. That’s 82 cents. Thank you.” That was the trouble! My folks. My Sunday School teacher. The youth director. The preacher. They’d all made it plain that Christians don’t dance. But what was so wrong about it? How could I know if I didn’t go? I had to make up my own mind about this. I glanced at the clock. Karen and Deb had promised to pick me up after the store closed. Maybe I could talk them into joining in my little adventure. Only there was one little hitch. I was broke, and payday wasn’t until Thursday. “You’re kidding,” Karen said when I told her and Deb of my daring plan. “Tony’s is flooded with high schoo l kids tonight. You wouldn’t want to be seen there!” “Yes, I would,” I told her. “ I’ve got to go. Lend me some money. A buck until payday.” Karen and Deb were both being pretty prudish. They had money, but they wouldn’t lend me any, not if I wanted it for a ticket to Tony’s. Deb backed the car, then swung out o f the parking place. “What will we do?” she asked. “ Shall we go for a hamburger? I'll give you a loan for
Reprinted by
permission from T een . W ith a James R. Adair , Baker Book House ,
F uture by
Grand Rapids , Miek., 1965, pages 32-36»
CO]
JUNE, 1969
39
Made with FlippingBook - Online magazine maker