Evolution, Me & Other Freaks of Nature by Robin Brande

of habit we started for the library. “So,” Casey said, “this should be fun, huh? The Christians versus the lions. A real battle with the wargs. Oh, sorry—more Lord of the Rings. Don't worry, we'll fix you right up—I brought Fellowship with me. You can watch it this weekend—what am I saying? You're required to watch it this weekend. After we work on the project.”
    “Oh. That.”
    “Your parents said yes, right?”
    “Um, they got home too late,” I lied. “I haven't had a chance to ask them yet.”
    Casey looked at me sternly. “Mena, this is serious. We have to get started. We don't have much time.”
    “Can you at least tell me what it is?”
    “I can, but I won't.” He pulled a cell phone out of his backpack. “Dial away.”
    I bit my lower lip and shook my head.
    “What is the problem?”
    “I promise I'll ask them tonight.” Another lie, but what could I do?
    “You promise.”
    “Yes.”
    “On pain of death.”
    “Yes.”
    “I'll forgive you on one condition.” He pulled a thick DVD box out of his backpack. “You must watch this in its entirety—appendices and all—by Monday morning. You may take time off only for homework—most particularly, our project. Otherwise, you will be in front of the TV until your eyes bleed. I'm sorry, but it must be done.”
    I'm sure I looked less than convinced.
    “Swear it.”
    “I'm not going to swear.” But I took the DVD from him anyway, just to shut him up.
    But of course I can't watch it. I didn't even bring it home tonight—I had to leave it in my locker. I can't afford to have my parents finding that on me anywhere.
    So there you have it, Monday through Friday, first week of school. I can say without a doubt this has been one of the least enjoyable weeks of my life. Not at all the way I imagined it when I used to dream about high school.
    And if not for Casey, I'm sure it would have been far worse.
    Of course, when he finds out on Monday I've been lying to him, that's the end of that.
    Guess I should have enjoyed it more while it lasted.

Fourteen
    I didn't even bother writing yesterday. What was there to say? A whole day working in my parents’ storeroom, sorting out boxes upon boxes of insurance documents. What more fulfilling work can a girl find?
    And now we're here at Sunday. Already. Lately it's been my least favorite day of the week, but considering how the rest of this week has gone, I guess I can't say that anymore.
    So here's how it's been going ever since I got kicked out of church: My parents get up early. They do not wake me. They do not want to see me.
    I already have my orders: While they are at church until noon, I am to watch a minimum of three religious programs, pray with the TV preachers, and then write a report about what each of the sermons was on.
    And then here's the really stupid part: My mother will come home and log on to one of the church websites that list what all of today's TV sermons were about, and she will check my work.
    Okay, look. Obviously if she can do that, I CAN DO THAT. Duh.
    I tried—I actually did. That first Sunday, I was feeling so bad about everything that had happened, I actually did what my parents wanted me to. I watched three separate programs, listened to loads of special guests and testimonials and “Praise Jesus”es and everything. I even—this is so stupid, because it's so fake—prayed right along with the TV prayers.
    But even if you're half brain-dead, you can't help but notice something awfully fishy.
    It's all about money. Truly.
    “Pledge a thousand dollars today. Call right now. Show God you have faith in Him.”
    We're supposed to dial up the 800 number, give them our credit cards, send money to the TV people as proof of our love of God and our trust in Him. I don't think so.
    They have all these testimonials on the screen, like they're from actual letters:
    I pledged a thousand dollars, and the next week my husband got a ten-thousand-dollar raise.
    We couldn't afford it, but