Chapter Thirteen: Sunday
Tamar and Ariel say goodbye
This is the final part of a middle-grade fiction series about a group of 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.
Nobody would be stranded at camp. Those who had relatives living nearby called them for a ride out, and those who didn’t, found others to carpool out. Declan decided to use this time as an opportunity to hitchhike, and when he said that, several of the younger couples opted to do the same.
The Tapioca youth and Mr. Cowell gathered together to say a final goodbye. Tamar knew this could be the last time she saw these people. Her family never knew what they were doing month to month with her father’s work.
“We should keep in touch,” Rayne said.
Tamar wrote her Mom’s number and her mailing address on a slip of paper for Rayne.
“I want it, too!”
“We should do a circle letter,” Gretchen suggested.
And so it was agreed that they would do just that.
When it came time to say goodbye, everyone enveloped Tamar in a group hug, Declan at the lead. It was weird, but she didn’t feel any electricity at his touch anymore. Tamar felt good about him liking Gretchen. They parted ways, and went to their families, or to the road.
Tamar went to find Ariel. She sat on a lone log, looking up when the gravel crunched under Tamar’s feet. Tamar sat down beside Ariel. She swung her legs, saying nothing.
Tamar said, “Well…”
“It seems funny how close you are with the others now.” Tamar thought she heard a tinge of envy in Ariel's voice.
“I guess we were forced to work together and that somehow brought us closer.”
“Just don’t become like them, okay?” Ariel said.
Tamar wanted to say how she wanted to be just like them. But she knew what Ariel meant, and yeah, she didn’t want to become callous to this girl who she considered her best friend. “Of course I won’t.”
Tamar searched for the nerve to say what God might want her to share. She’d just promised not to be judgy, but she felt burdened to say something.
Speak through conversation. Don’t throw Bible verses. Don’t accuse or condemn. Be friendly—be a friend.
“This was the best week of camp ever,” Ariel said.
“What made it that way?” Tamar asked.
“I met you.” Ariel hooked an elbow through Tamar’s and grinned.
Tamar blushed, but she wouldn’t be put off track. “Thanks,” She mumbled. “I’m so glad I met you, too. We’ll write to each other, yes?”
“Of course I’ll write to you.” Ariel said. “You better write back to me, though.”
“Definitely.” Tamar sucked in a breath, then released it slowly, searching for a way to hit her target. “Did you have a favorite lesson that resonated with you this week? I’m still trying to process it all myself.”
Ariel shrugged.
Tamar answered her own question. “I don’t know if I learned anything new, but I know all this ‘working together’ stuff hit me deeper than I thought possible. Especially how the strengths of others can overcome our own weaknesses. I’m going to enjoy applying this my real life—”
“You know, I don’t believe in all this God stuff?” Ariel interrupted.
Well, that was easier to pull out than she’d thought. Except now Tamar felt more awkward. She dragged her shoe in the dirt. “I was hoping it wasn’t true.”
“Because my dad is so great and it’s a shame I’m not like him?”
Tamar shook her head. “No, because you’re so great and I don’t understand why you don’t love God when you’re one of the most loving people I’ve ever met.”
Ariel tensed, balling her hands. Her face turned red. “I can’t love a God that hasn’t shown me love. People say if I don’t love Him, He’ll send me to hell. Want to know what I think about that? I’m already living hell and He hasn’t done anything about it. If I can’t see His love now I don’t see how that afterlife is going to make much of a difference.”
“I…” Tamar didn’t know what to say. She knew she had no idea of how to relate to her friend.
“Don’t say you’re sorry. Because I already know you are. I like you because you’re real and don’t judge me, so please don’t start.”
“I don’t want to judge you, Ariel. But I don’t want to sit by and watch you hurt now or ever. Best friends don’t let each other go to hell.”
Ariel’s lip curled up a little, before pressing together tightly again. “Yeah? Well, maybe.”
“I don’t know what to say or what to do, but Ariel I want to be best friends with you forever. And that means that I’m going to show you as much as I can that God’s love is real and that He does care about everything that happens in your life.”
Ariel retraced lines in the gravel where Tamar had already carved out a jagged path. She said, “Ok. Prove it and we’ll see if you can soften my hardened heart. But I’m going to fight you the whole way, Tamar.”
Before she could think about it, Tamar scooted closer to Ariel and wrapped an arm around Ariel. Ariel sank into Tamar briefly, then pushed away. She looked away laughing, but Tamar saw her bring her hands to her eyes to wipe away a few stray tears.
“You’re a crazy girl, Tamar.”
“That makes two of us,” Tamar returned.
“True enough.” Quieter, Ariel whispered. “Don't give up on me, ‘kay? Life’s pretty messy and I hate it.”
“I won’t.”
She would never give up on her friend. She would prove to Ariel that God’s love was ready and waiting to soak up all her hurts and wounds, even if it was she who had to do the absorbing and comforting. Ariel would know God through her, and she’d pour out everything God sent for her to give away. That was why she was here, wasn’t it? To be a friend to the friendless.
This wouldn’t be any easy process fixed with a few fragments of scripture. Ariel had all the Bible verses memorized. No, the road ahead of her would be long and involved long nights with tears and earnest conversations and the power of charity.
“Tamar! Time to go!” Dad called. “Uncle Rick is here.”
“Ugh,” Tamar said to Ariel. “How much longer do you have to stay?”
Ariel looked to where her dad was speaking to a group of older people. “We’re always the last to leave. I’d say not for quite awhile.”
“Well, don’t get too bored,” Tamar teased.
“No promises.”
Tamar turned to go, waving slightly.
Ariel jumped up and pulled on Tamar. “Tamar, I know we’ve only been friends a week, but you’re truly my best friend. Don’t forget me.”
“We’ve only known each other for a week?” Tamar asked. “I feel I’ve known you my whole life.”
“Weird, right?”
“I’ll write as soon as we get home.”
“I expect a letter in three days' time.” Ariel winked.
“Make it four!” Tamar said. “I’ll probably have some chores to catch up before I can write.”
“Ok! Four!”
“Thanks for letting me use your toothbrush!”
“Any time.”
Tamar walked backward, waving. Then she pivoted and hurried to the van, hoping she could keep the tears in long enough to hide from her brothers. Uncle Rick, Dad’s younger brother was in the driver’s seat of a van the insurance company had loaned them. The boys were already in their seats, and Grandpa was up front next to Uncle Rick. Mom and Dad were just behind them. There was a seat open in the very back, so Tamar crawled over her brothers until she claimed the last seat—an entire row. She could let a few tears fall and no one would see, unless Grandpa or Uncle Rick looked in the rearview mirror.
Grandpa did. “Have fun, Tamar?”
Tamar wiped away the tears quickly, pretending they hadn’t been there. She wanted to scream yes and say that this week had been the best in her whole life. But that lump in her throat threatened to melt into a torrent of tears. She raised her thumb.
“I’m just glad we’re all getting away in one piece,” Mom said.
“Yes, even if we are down two vehicles,” Dad said. “It’s something to be grateful for.”
Grandpa said, “We’ve never been safer. Thanks to the Tapiocans, that camp is the best around.”
The what?
Grandpa winked at Tamar in the mirror. He knew, didn’t he? Maybe she’d ask him later.
Mom laughed. “Now, don’t be silly. There’s no such thing as Tapiocans. Only God protected us.”
“Both could be true, dear,” Grandpa said.
“What are the Tapiocans?” Uncle Rick asked.
“They’re real,” Tamar said. “They saved me, and I became one.”
Dad chuckled along with mother. Mom said, “You and your grandfather. I don’t know what gets into you both sometimes.”
Tamar pressed her face against the window. A string of tapioca followed for aways. When they came to the main road, it pulled back, its edges waving good bye to her.
Tamar waved, too.
“You know, this fall there's a youth camp. Think you want to go back for that, Tamar? All your same friends will be there,” Grandpa said.
“Really?” Tamar forgot about her need to cry. She had to go to this.
“Dad. I don’t let Tamar do things like that.”
Grandpa frowned. Uncle Rick said, “When are you going to stop coddling your kids?”
“I’m sheltering them,” Mom said.
“That’s no better,” Uncle Rick said.
“Shh,” Grandpa said. He turned to Mom. And stared at her for a long while.
Tamar thought she might really cry this time. There was no way her mom could change her mind. There was no point even trying. But how could she not go and see her friends again? She must. If she didn’t … she’d … she didn’t know what, but life would be awful all summer long.
Grandpa said, “Laura, maybe you should think about it for a while before coming to such a hasty conclusion.”
“I don’t need to think about it. I don’t allow Tamar to be alone with other teenagers. It’s not safe. And don’t tell me I can’t protect my daughter forever. I know that. But I can protect her until it’s time to let go.”
“That’s true… but have you ever thought that maybe she doesn’t need your protection? Maybe it’s time to start letting go. If not now, when?”
Mom said, “I can’t believe you’re saying this to me.”
“I’m sure I made my mistakes,” Grandpa chuckled, lightening the mood.
“Tamar isn’t going,” Mom said.
“Those kids are good kids,” Grandpa said. “I’m a good judge of characters. And I know they will be good for Tamar. I think you should let her go.”
Mom started to answer, then stopped. Tamar didn’t want to hope, but how could she help it? “I don’t know …” Mom said, sounding unsure for the first time. “She’s so young.”
“You’ve raised her to be older than her age,” Grandpa said. “Don’t look at the number of her years, but her maturity. Tamar is ready for this.”
Wow. How had Grandpa just complimented and reprimanded Mom all at once?
“Maybe you’re right,” Mom said.
Tamar squealed, chafing against her seatbelt.
“Don’t get your hopes up too high,” Mom said.
But Tamar couldn’t wait to write Ariel the good news.
The end
Thank you for reading The Tapiocans!
If you enjoyed reading this, you can show your support for my writing by donating here:
I hope you all have enjoyed this series. Feel free to message me if you have any questions about it. I have plans to be releasing another shortly that will be about the Boxcar Children when they are grown up!