I wanted to agree with him. But I didn’t know anything about a big, beautiful world. Out there was scary. It was sick and evil. That’s why I was here. It was safe on the mountain away from that world he talked about.
I was about to argue the point when he turned to me. “How long have you been with The Gathering?”
I blinked. “Uh. Since I was eight,” I answered.
Bastian’s eyes grew wide. “Since you were eight? So, you’ve been here—”
“Ten years,” I filled in.
“You’re eighteen?” Bastian asked. I nodded. “I just turned twenty in April. Iwasa sophomore at Ohio State College.” He cocked his head to the side as he regarded me. “What was it like growing up here?”
The pieces of my bad dream from the night before tickled the edges of my memory. Images of what those early years were like for me.
“It’s had its ups and downs,” I found myself saying.
Bastian chewed on his bottom lip for a moment as if pondering my purposeful vagueness. “What were the ups?”
I relaxed slightly, glad I didn’t have to go about defending my family or my life again. Talking about this was easy. I smiled. “Being outside all day. Exploring the woods when we were permitted. There’s a waterfall a few miles that way.” I pointed back towards the trees. “When Anne came we tended the gardens together. Gail—Gail Cook, she’s one of the older disciples—she taught Anne and I all about different plants. I love being hands-on with things.”
“Sounds fun,” Bastian said and it sounded like he meant it. “You haven’t been going to school then?” I tried to read if there was any judgement in his tone, but only picked up on curiosity.
“No. I didn’t go to a traditional school. We learn the scripture. We live a clean and pure lifestyle. I know how to read. Learned when I was three years old. I can write. I help record Pastor’s sermons. I know my times tables too if you want to test me. Just so you know I’m not an idiot,” I spat out.
Bastian held up his hands. “Whoa, I wasn’t saying you were. No need to bite my head off. I’m just surprised the state never intervened with kids out here not going to school. There are laws about education, you know.”
I had honestly never thought about whether there were implications of Anne, Staff, myself, and the others not going to school. I wondered what Pastor had done to ensure outsiders didn’t infringe on our lives.
“I suppose it could be considered a form of homeschooling.” Bastian shrugged.
“Right. Homeschooling.”
There was more I wanted to say but figured I’d sound as if I were trying to justify something, which in my mind, didn’t need justification.
I didn’t like how his questions made me feel less than. As if I were some sort of country bumpkin without a clue.
“I wasn’t really into school. I’m the artsy guy who just wants to get his hands covered in paint,” he laughed.
I didn’t laugh with him. “You’re an artist?”
Bastian made a face. “I try to be. I like painting and drawing, but deep down I know I suck. I’m going to school to be an art teacher. You know what they say, those who can’t, teach.”
I frowned. “Who says that?”
Bastian looked at me as if I had grown an extra head. “Never mind. Doesn’t matter. So, what do you like to do?” he asked.
I ran my fingers through the dirt. “Why?”
“Because that’s how conversation works, Sara. I tell you a bit about me, you tell me something about you. What are your hobbies? Everyone has hobbies. Are you into whittling maybe? Perhaps you play the Piccolo.” He was teasing, but I pondered what he was asking.
WhatdidI like to do? What interested me? It had been a long time since I had really thought about it.
“I guess I like art, too. I used to make sculptures out of mud.” I felt silly admitting it. I sounded incredibly juvenile.
When I was a girl, no more than five or six, in the time before The Gathering, I would sit in the garden of my old house and pack dirt into shapes. In my imagination, they were beautiful buildings and amazing animals.
Until the time my mother got angry when I tracked wet sludge into the house and I was forbidden after that.
“Mud sculptures?” Bastian chuckled.
