Velva Jean Learns to Drive: Book 1 in the Velva Jean series - Softcover

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Jennifer Niven is the New York Times bestselling author of All the Bright Places and Holding Up the Universe, as well as the popular Velva Jean series. She is also the author of several non-fiction books, including Ada Blackjack, The Aqua-Net Diaries, and The Ice Master, which was named a top non-fiction book by Entertainment Weekly. Her New York Times bestseller All the Bright Places is soon to be a major motion picture starring Elle Fanning. Although she grew up in Indiana, she now lives with her fiancé and literary cats in Los Angeles, which remains her favorite place to wander.

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One

I was ten years old when I was saved for the first time. Even thoughJesus himself never had much to do with religion before he wastwelve, I had prayed and prayed to be saved so that I wouldn’t go tohell. Mama had never mentioned hell to me, but the summer after mytenth birthday, on the night before the yearly Three Gum Revival andCamp Meeting, my daddy told me that I might have to go there. Hesaid that’s where sinners went, and that everyone was a sinner untilthey were saved.

“Have I been saved?” I asked him.

“No, Velva Jean.” He was polishing the handheld pickax he some—times used for gold mining. The front door was open and a faint breezeblew in off the mountain. It was still hot, even at ten thirty at night.Somewhere, far away, there was the high, lonesome cry of a panther.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. Maybe you ain’t opened yourself up to the Spirit.”Daddy’s face was quiet and blank so I couldn’t read it. His one goodeye—the one that wasn’t blind—wasn’t dancing like it normally did. Itwas always hard to know if he was mocking or serious on the subject ofreligion.

“How do you know I ain’t saved?” I asked a lot of questions, some—thing my daddy never had much patience for, especially in the heat.

“Because you’d know it if you was.”

I thought about this, trying to remember a time when I might havebeen saved without knowing it. I couldn’t think of one and suddenlythis worried me. “What happens if I don’t get saved?”

“It means that you’re ‘astray like a lost sheep,’ and that after you dieyou’re going straight to hell.” Daddy laughed. “That’s why your mamaand me prays every night for our children.”

For a moment, I couldn’t speak. What did he mean, I was going todie? What did he mean, I was going to hell? I didn’t want to go to hell.Hell was for the convicts down at the prison in Butcher Gap or themurderer who lived on top of Devil’s Courthouse. Hell wasn’t for decent people. I was sure my mama wasn’t going to be there or DaddyHoyt or Granny or my sister, Sweet Fern, or Ruby Poole or Aunt Birdor Uncle Turk or Aunt Zona and the twins. Probably my brothers,Linc and Beachard, weren’t going to hell either, but I wondered aboutmy youngest brother, Johnny Clay. And then I began to cry.

Later that night, when me and Johnny Clay were lying in our bedspretending to sleep, I whispered, “If you was to die, would you go tohell?” I had shared a room with Sweet Fern until she got married, andthen Johnny Clay moved in with me.

There was silence from his bed and for a moment I thought hemight actually be sleeping. Then he said, “I guess.”

I sat straight up and looked at him, trying to catch his face in thedarkness to see if he was fooling or not. He rolled over and proppedhimself up with one arm. “Why you want to know about hell, VelvaJean?”

“Daddy says if we ain’t saved, that’s where we’re going because we’reall sinners till we been born again.”

Johnny Clay seemed to consider this. “I guess,” he said again.

“I’m going to get myself saved,” I said, “if it’s the very last thing I do.I ain’t going to hell.”

“Even if I’m there?”

“It ain’t funny, Johnny Clay. I’m answering the altar call at campmeeting and I’m going to pray and pray for Jesus to save me.”

“You don’t even know how to pray, Velva Jean.” Johnny Clay wassmart. He was twelve years old and he knew everything about every—thing. He’d been an expert gold panner since he was nine, he’d beendriving since he was ten, and at school he was the marble championthree years running. He was also the bravest person I knew. I just worshipped him.

“I know, but I’m going to start praying anyway. I’m going to startdoing it right now.” And I got out of my bed and kneeled down besideit and closed my eyes tight. I tried to remember how Mama alwaysbegan. There was a sigh and a rustling from Johnny Clay’s bed, andthen he was beside me on the floor, hands clasped.

“Okay, Lord,” he said. “Please be merciful on us sinners. Pleasedon’t let us die anytime soon. And if we do, please don’t send me andVelva Jean to hell. We just can’t stand it if we die and go to hell.”

“Amen,” I whispered.

~

The first day of camp meeting I could barely sit still. “Stop fidgeting,”Sweet Fern hissed at me across Beachard and Johnny Clay. Sweet Ferncouldn’t stand for people to fidget, most particularly me, her own sister.She said it wasn’t something that ladies did, even though she knew Iwasn’t one bit interested in being a lady. Still, I decided it wasn’t a goodidea to talk back while I was on the path to salvation, so I sat on myhands to keep from picking at my nails and my dress. Johnny Clay keptpoking me in the leg, trying to get me to thumb wrestle, but I staredstraight ahead and waited for the altar call. Reverend Broomfield, theBaptist preacher, said he wanted only the backsliders—those who hadbeen saved already and then lost their way. One by one, they went upto the altar and rededicated their lives to Jesus, and then everyone sangand Mrs. Broomfield announced the serving of the potluck supper.

On the second day, Reverend Broomfield said he wanted all thefeuding neighbors to come forward so that he could talk to them aboutforgiveness and put them on speaking terms again, and afterward weall sang and Mrs. Broomfield announced the supper.

On the third day, Reverend Broomfield and Reverend Nix, whowas the preacher at our church, asked for all the sinners who wantedto be saved. I sat straight up and paid attention. Reverend Broomfieldpromised salvation to anyone who needed it, and all you had to dowas come up to the altar and kneel down and say that you loved andaccepted Jesus and would live your life for him now and forever. Iwondered what that meant exactly, if I could live my life for Jesus andstill be a singer at the Grand Ole Opry, with an outfit made of satinand rhinestones and a pair of high-heeled boots. To sing at the GrandOle Opry and wear an outfit made of rhinestones was my life’sdream.

One by one, I watched the other sinners take their places at thealtar. I did not want to go to hell. But I did not want to give up mydreams either. I sat there, my toes pressed into the sawdust shavings,my legs tensed up, my hands gripping the edge of the bench. EvenJesus must like the Opry, I told myself, and I stood up.

No one in the congregation was supposed to look at you—theywere just supposed to sit quietly and close their eyes or stare at theground—but when I got up to answer the call, Johnny Clay grabbedthe back of my dress and tried to pull me back into my seat. I kickedhim as hard as I could and marched right up to the altar with all theother sinners and got down on my knees and closed my eyes andthought about how much I loved Jesus.

To my left, Swill Tenor, one of the meanest and crookedest men inthe valley, suddenly let out a shout and jumped to his feet and beganjerking in the Spirit. His eyes were closed and his body was twitchinglike he was being pinched and pulled all over. Not to be outdone, RootCaldwell, who was so mean that he fought roosters on the weekends,let out a shout and started dancing all around, up and down the aisles.To my right, Mrs. Garland Welch swayed and quivered and spoke intongues. I just sat there on my knees, watching like a person...