Chapter Nine: Friday

Tamar and the Tapioca bubbles

This is part of a middle-grade fiction series about a group church-camp teenagers who experience a mystical phenomenon. It’s a silly and light-hearted series, but your middle-grader might also find themselves better inspired to practice the fruits of the spirit. If you’d like to read all the chapters, visit here.

---

Tamar and Ariel carried their dirty breakfast dishes to the kitchen and left them in the correct tubs.

“Can you believe camp is almost over?” Ariel sighed. 

The week had seemed to pass too fast … yet Tamar was ready for it to be over. She wouldn’t tell Ariel that, though. “Yeah, hard to believe.”

“Your dad is coming soon, right? What time?”

Tamar shrugged. “He said Friday morning, but he’s always late. I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t get here until after we’re in bed. Or even tomorrow morning.” 

Ariel’s eyes widened. “That’d kill me.”

“It does.” 

They both laughed, then headed out toward classes, merging with the rest of the youth on their way out. 

“Did you hear that Jason is missing?” Cameron asked the girls. 

“Really?” Ariel sounded sad. 

Something stirred inside of Tamar. Guilt? Foreboding? Something else? 

“Yeah. He wasn’t in his bunk this morning. His bed was made neatly, and there was a note,” Cameron said.

“What did it say?” Ariel asked. 

“Just ‘thanks’” Declan answered for Cameron. “And his name.”

“Not his number?” Ariel twisted her lips into a provocative smile. 

“Wow. Sometimes you shock me Ariel,” Rayne said. “Really, that guy’s like twice your age.”

“I think he is twice her age,” Declan said. 

“Ew.” Faye pretended to vomit. 

The kids wrapped around the cafeteria to the basement below. Mr. Cowell wasn’t there yet. So the kids all found seats, girls on the couch, guys on the floor as usual. 

“I think I’m done with chivalry,” Cameron said, rubbing his back. “You girls are totally killing me.” 

Maybe guilt still plagued her from not being able to say anything to Jason, but Tamar suddenly felt really bad about being on the couch. She said to Cameron. “You can have my seat if you like?” 

Cameron turned the color of a hot sauce bottle. “I was just joking. But thanks, Tamar.” 

Tamar nodded, turning her eyes onto her lap. 

Before Declan sat down he handed Tamar a piece of folded paper. “Here. Hope you don’t mind that I filled this out for you.”

Tamar unfolded the paper and read “Salvation Scriptures”. Anger flushed out her guilt. She wanted to wad the paper  and throw it at his face—was he sneering at her? Did these kids actually believe that she was unsaved, or were they just being cruel? 

Ariel looked over Tamar’s shoulder, then to Tamar. She raised an eyebrow as if to say, told you they aren’t all that they seem to be.

Faye jabbed Tamar, and said. “Hope you don’t mind. I helped my brother with that. They are really good verses.” The smile did not hold the same friendliness Tamar was used to accrediting to Faye. It was a plain “Be saved or we’ll stampede you.”

Maybe she’d tear the paper up and throw it at all of them. Even laid-back Cameron. Mr. Cowell entered, putting an end to her fantasies of revenge.

She knew she should forgive them and let go of the offense. She had wanted them as friends, not … whatever they were being to her now. She couldn’t just let this go. It hurt too much. 

 Mr. Cowell said, “Well, today is our last day guys. Tomorrow is Sabbath.” 

Several moans and exclamations of “Don’t remind us” proved the group’s disapproval at this news.

“Today’s lesson is on what we should do when we’re uncertain of how to work with our brothers and sisters when their gifts seem to conflict with ours.”

Tamar expected the usual chorus of answers. No one said anything for an eternity.

Finally Gretchen said, “Are they actually our brother or sister if their gift conflicts with ours?”

They were talking about her, Tamar knew it. 

“Not necessarily,” Mr Cowell answered. “Do you remember what happened in Acts 15 when some of the apostles disagreed, and so split ways? Sometimes God calls men to two separate places. He desires for us to spread our gifts everywhere. Unity doesn't always mean complete agreement, or even constant fellowship. It means that we all have one thing in common — do you know what that thing is?”

“Salvation through Jesus.” Declan pointed his words at Tamar. 

She almost stuck her tongue out at him. But she remembered the verse about holding her tongue and prayed to God for strength. 

“What if the person isn’t our brother or sister, though?” Rayne picked up Gretchen’s question. 

“Only God can truly know that,” Mr. Cowell said. “Sometimes we think we can tell by the fruits and works of another, or other signs, but when it comes down to it, Only God knows the heart. Does anyone know where that is found?”

Tamar took her opportunity. She said, “1 Samuel 16:7.”

None of the others seemed satisfied with that answer. Well let them not be satisfied. 

Even so, Tamar was determined that her life would start showing this fruit. It was good that her faith was secure between her and God, but she never wanted someone else to doubt her again because of inadequate work. She was a representation of God after all, so this wasn’t just about her, but God’s reputation, too. 

It would be hard, but she was convinced that this was what she must do to mature in her faith. 

Tamar’s dad arrived during lunch, not near as late as she’d expected he might. He’d just texted his ETA to Mom. “You all want to go outside and wait for him?” 

The boys dropped their spoons and forgot about their food.

“Yes!” Tamar turned to Ariel. “You’re gonna love my dad.”

 Ariel followed the Geils out to the camp parking lot. As soon as he pulled up, all of the little boys ran as a mob and struggled against each other to be the one to open their father’s door. 

Once Tamar might have been amidst them, but Ariel was standing next to her. She stood on her tiptoes to see over her brothers’ heads. Luke opened the door, but the rest of the boys got to him first. 

“Did you bring us anything?” 

“Did I bring you anything? Did you make me anything this week?” 

“Yeah,” several of the younger ones said. 

“I made you a birdhouse.” 

“I saved you some of my candy.” 

“Do you want to see my pictures?” 

Dad made it through the boys, then kissed Mom. He turned to Tamar. “I heard you had an incident in the cave.”

Tamar nodded, not knowing if she could speak. Should she tell him that something mystical or magical had saved her? A lump formed in her throat as she realized she’d come this close to never seeing her father again. 

“This is my new friend, Ariel. She was with me, too.”

Dad held out a large hand, roughened by years of hard work. “Nice to meet you.”

Ariel accepted the hand shake, and grinned. “You’re just in time for the Sabbath!”

Tamar walked right next to her Dad—not as close as she’d have liked as all of her brothers were holding onto him. It was so good to have him here, at last.

She didn’t see the bubble of tapioca until it was right in her face. It almost touched her nose. Just in time her dad swatted it away. It clung to his hands, wrapping around like a snake. 

Disgusting. 

“What is this?” Dad asked. 

Tamar said, “The weirdest thing ever. They’re tapioca clouds. And they are everywhere.”

“Huh,” Dad said.

“Tell me about it,” Ariel laughed. “But you get used to it after a while.”

“Except it seems to be getting violent toward me,” Tamar added, laughing. “Always trying to attack me. Nearly succeeded, too.” 

Dad laughed. “Glad to have saved you.”

The sun swooped behind dark clouds and a deep chill fell over Tamar. 

“Where’s Grandpa,” Dad asked.

“He’s napping in the cabin,” Mom said. “Are you hungry? there’s still food inside.” 

“Yes, I could use a little to eat.”

It was a bit warmer inside. Some of the parents were unplugging the fans—it’d been much too hot all week to do that. The silence tickled at Tamar’s nerves. Dad grabbed a tray, filled it with plenty, then sat next to the boys. Tamar and Ariel retrieved their plates and joined the family of their own volition. 

As he ate, Dad told them of his adventures getting here.  “I saw a wreck. I thought it was going to be horrid, because the semi was tipped over and totaled. But I guess nothing was damaged except the load. The guy had been hauling pigs, and they were everywhere, squealing and snorting…” 

Everyone laughed as he described the chaos. Everything seemed eerily brighter inside—no there was just less natural light. Tamar sneaked a look outside. Her fingers clenched around her fork. 

A long rumble disrupted Dad’s story. The building shook. The boys’ water glasses toppled off the table.

Tamar’s vision blurred. She felt herself back in the cave, falling… No, she was in the cafeteria. The fluorescent lights blinked repeatedly, and the floor jolted sharply under Tamar’s bench. 

Dad carefully placed his spoon down as if nothing of consequence was happening. Humor no longer gripped his face. He stood and walked toward the door. Tamar followed. 

Voices rose in a panic all around as the building quivered again. 

Dad stood up, “You all wait here while I see what’s going on.”

A few other men were heading outside, too. Dad disappeared from sight. The doors swung back and forth, and a sharp, cold breeze flew into the room. And then a wave of intense heat wafted inside. 

Tamar looked at the other youth. They sat huddled around the table, a little concerned. “Look!” Rayne said. “The sky is orange.” 

The shadows fled and fire fell from the sky. 

Wimpers, screams, and prayers erupted. Dad is outside, Tamar thought. She wiggled out of her seat and fled toward the doors. Her mother was too busy with the boys to notice, but she saw the youth group eyeing her. She stopped on the outside, trying to seize her bearings. 

“The world is ending,” Tamar gulped. She knew her doubts were about to be laid to rest about her soul. But wait… what of the rapture? She’d just seen Ariel and the rest of the youth. They were still here, too. Were they all doomed? 

Tamar saw her father. He was running toward her, shouting. “Get away from the cafeteria!”

A large ball of fire crashed down on the cafeteria, and part of the building collapsed. Flames licked near her ankles. People pushed to get outside, and scattered toward their vehicles. Another ball of fire fell where the cars were parked. A moment later they exploded, and the campers scattered. 

Debris exploded, and hot metal spun out of control toward Tamar’s father. 

She didn’t consider her actions. She didn’t feel brave—she felt forced right at him. Tapioca intercepted her jump. She nearly avoided it—now was no time to worry about dodging the gooey bubbles. She went right through the tapioca … and time slowed. 

A new warmness seeped through her skin. She forgot about the end of the world and her father. This stuff is cool. Why have I been avoiding it? 

It felt … she felt whole. She knew she was glowing and complete and renewed. She knew that God saw her and owned her soul.

God said to her, “Blow.” 

So Tamar blew.

The debris that came spiraling toward her father stopped in its tracks. It was as if her breath pushed it away. She was so astonished, she didn’t notice flames engulfing her.

Dad stopped running. “Tamar? Tamar! Where did you go!”

The small bubble of tapioca that she’d run into seeped down her body and expanded so that she was not completely immersed. She shone, and she was floating off the ground. 

“Who are you?” Dad asked. 

“I’m Tamar,” she answered. But even to her own ears she sounded … different. 

A flood of people swarmed out of the crumbling cafeteria. Dad shook, then saw his wife and sons. He ran to them. “Where’s Tamar?” 

Mom’s eyes widened. “She followed you.” 

They couldn’t see her. They couldn’t hear her. She tried to take a step forward. That was when Tamar realized she couldn’t feel her legs. She was paralyzed, stuck in a swirling bubble of warm, colorful tapioca.

The next installment will be published on the first Monday of next month.

Did you enjoy reading this chapter? You can show your support for my writing by donating here: