MERCY:
Oh my God. . .
PASTOR:
Yes. Let us pray.
MERCY:
Pastor, she’s dead, too?
PASTOR:
She walks the green pastures with the Lord. I know she does because she prayed with me before she died. The Lord forgave her. She was born again. Washed in the blood of the lamb.
MERCY:
Oh, my God. . .what have I done? I’ve sinned. . .I’ve been such a bad girl. . .
PASTOR:
It’s too late for those boys, Mercy. But not for you. You can get right with God.
MERCY:
I’m going to jail, aren’t I?
PASTOR:
No.
MERCY:
Pastor, I was drinking. I was drunk on my ass.
PASTOR:
That kind of language, young lady, is hardly the first step on your path to redemption.
MERCY:
My what?
PASTOR:
Those boys in that van, who died with you, who died in sin? For the sake of our community, for the sake of their parents, the Sheriff has declined to press any charges against you.
MERCY:
That’s crazy. . .
PASTOR:
No. To the community, those eight members of the Clarion High football team were fine young men. Let them set an example in death that they did not in life. That they were drinking and on their way to defile a sweet young thing like you, Mercy, well. . .what lesson would that teach?
MERCY:
Maybe that God struck them down for sinning.
PASTOR:
That’s an interesting thought. A topic worthy of discussion. Why don’t you come live with Agnes and me? Our daughters are grown up, and I could be a father to you, you could have the guidance you need.
MERCY:
Thank you, Pastor, but. . .I’ll go back home. I’m eighteen. I can finish the school year and then decide what’s next for me.
PASTOR:
That’s a very grown up decision, dear. May I suggest that you start attending services again? Your grandmother never missed a one.
MERCY:
All right.
PASTOR:
And you can study with me, privately, if you like. The Scripture. Why, before you know it, you’ll be a theological whiz.
MERCY:
Why do you want me? I’m a bad girl, Pastor. I was drinking. I invited those boys. I was going to. . .I was going to do bad things with them.
PASTOR:
You’re confessing your sins. What better start is that? You can be born again, child. All those sins washed away.
MERCY:
But I’m weak. What if I sinned again?
PASTOR:
There is no limit to the Lord’s forgiveness.
MERCY:
But what if I slip? What if I’m not right with the Lord when I die?
SOUND:
(chair scrape) I think you know the answer to that, child.
NARRATOR:
And so Mercy turned over the proverbial new leaf. She went home to the gothic near-mansion where she and her late grandmother had lived, so big and empty and foreboding now. Yet somehow it seemed just right her new life, living alone, her spare time given to reading the Bible. Several evenings a week, she and Pastor Strickland studied and discussed scripture. She dressed more conservatively now, often in angelic white, but her natural beauty came screaming through. But when she returned to school, the welcome of some classmates was less than warm. Like Cindi Wesson, who had been Rod’s steady girl. . .
SOUND:
A bell rings quickly followed by bustling high school hallway sounds between classes. Talk, movement, a little laughter.
CINDI:
Hey! Skank!
MERCY:
Cindi, I understand how you feel. . .
CINDI:
No you don’t. I think you’re evil. Oh, I know all about this new goody-two-shoes act of yours. You’re all churchy now. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t going straight to Hell.
MERCY:
I’m not going to Hell. I’ve been saved. You can be, too.
CINDI:
Oh, my God!
MERCY:
Yes, your God. He loves you. He’ll forgive your sins.
CINDI:
My sins? You were gonna gang-bang the first string of the football team and got ‘em killed instead, because you were drunk as a skunk! If you weren’t designed for Hell, who was?
MERCY:
I’ll pray for you.
CINDI:
(off-mic) Don’t do me any favors, scuzz queen.
RANDY:
(off-mic) Hey! Merce.
SOUND:
Locker shutting.
MERCY:
Oh. . .Randy. Hi. You look nice
today.
RANDY:
Yeah, it’s a retro thing. Black leather like James Dean.
MERCY:
Who?
RANDY:
Just another stud who died in a car crash.
MERCY:
. . .I have to get to class.
RANDY:
Bad joke. Look, some of these clowns around here are treating you pretty rotten. When’s the last time you had a little fun?
MERCY:
I’ve sort of given up fun.
RANDY:
Aw come on, baby. Let’s hook up. What do you say?
MERCY:
I’m not that way any more, Randy. But if you want to come over to my place, tonight, and study, that would be cool.
RANDY:
Yeah, study what? We’re seniors. We already know we’re graduating.
MERCY:
How about something a little more spiritual?
RANDY:
What, Bible school?
MERCY:
Yes. It’s never too late to get right with God.
RANDY:
Uh. . .your grandma croaked, didn’t she?
MERCY:
Yes. She passed away.
RANDY:
That’s a shame. So, then, you’re, uh. . .living alone?
MERCY:
I am.
RANDY:
Okay. I’m cool with a little Bible study. I could stand to get straight with the Man Upstairs, I guess.
MERCY:
That’s wonderful! Stop over at seven. We’ll sit by the fire, have snacks. . .
RANDY:
Yeah, I’m salivating already.
NARRATOR:
So that evening, a cool autumn night, Mercy puts on a white dress and makes crackers and cheese and starts a fire.
SOUND:
Several hard knocks at the door. Door opens.
RANDY:
Hi, babe.
MERCY:
You surprised me! I was listening for your Harley.
RANDY:
Hey, I only live three blocks over. Nice night like this? Thought I’d just have a nice walk out under God’s majestic sky.
MERCY:
You look great – no biker leathers?
RANDY:
So ya like in me a jacket and tie? Hey, it’s Sunday school, right?
MERCY:
You’re teasing. Come on in.
SOUND:
Door shuts.
NARRATOR:
Soon Mercy and her guest are nibbling snacks and having soft drinks as he listens to her talk about the need for him to get right with the “Man Upstairs.”
RANDY:
Yeah, baby, I could can see gettin’ cool with the Almighty. . .I done bad shit in my time, and what the hell, I could go for this Born Again trip.
MERCY:
You’re not just saying that.
RANDY:
No. You gettin’ a little warm? I am. Why don’t you slip out of that dress.
MERCY:
No, Randy, I. . .
RANDY:
Hey, you were talking about sacrifice before! Like that dude you read me about that was up for killin’ his kid ‘cause God told him to! God likes sacrifice, right?
MERCY:
He does.
RANDY:
Well, then, give it up, baby.
