Standards

Standards 3:01

Sitting in the art room on Wednesday, Winslow did a required warm-up sketch while she waited for the bell. Drawing was listed as the sixth class on her schedule, but since each school day only held time for four class periods, it ended up being her second class on alternating days. She purposely signed up for an art class that would be held on those ‘B’ days in order to give her something to break up the monotony of complicated work. Seminary and orchestra both served that purpose well on ‘A’ days.

Winslow found herself zoning out while working on the sketch. The current prompt was “flower” and she was perfectly content to sit in her own little world and cover her sketchbook page in florals. She was currently drawing one for each of the eight Young Women's values. Personal Progress was supposed to help bring these themes into their lives, and Winslow really connected with the idea. Each value had a color assigned to it, and Winslow, being a huge fan of symbolism, loved weaving those colors into her artwork. White for Faith, blue for Divine Nature, red for Individual Worth, green for Knowledge, orange for Choice and Accountability, yellow for Good Works, purple for Integrity, and gold for Virtue. Debating for a minute about what flowers could be considered gold-colored, Winslow decided to draw a daylily. She considered doing a sunflower, but she had already used that for yellow, since they were her favorite. Using a metallic colored pencil to shade the last flower, Winslow heard the chair facing hers scrape across the floor.

“Hi!” her table-mate, Victoria, sat down and started digging in her bag, pulling out her little art kit. The seats beside both of them were often empty, but the two of them never really talked except to exchange small greetings or compliment the other's project. Victoria was popular and remarkably pretty, so Winslow kind of felt like she shouldn't speak unless spoken to. Eyeing the cover of Victoria's sketchbook, she confirmed that her last name was Rogers. It wasn't an uncommon name by any means, but when Victoria was walking with Kiernan after school a few days before, Winslow had connected the dots.

“I didn't know you and Kiernan were siblings,” she ventured.

Victoria laughed. “Yeah, that happens a lot.” She unzipped her art kit, pulling supplies out and organizing it on the table. “We're… very different.”

Winslow knew what she meant. They looked almost completely different, they acted like near-total opposites, and they hung out with very different crowds. Winslow almost couldn't believe they were related, but they had confirmed it themselves.

“Well, thanks for taking me home on Monday.”

“No worries.” Victoria smiled, and it looked genuine. “Let me know if you need a ride again, okay?”

“Okay, thanks.”

Victoria and Winslow chatted more during class than usual.

Young Women's that night was planned as a surprise, so Winslow couldn't be sure what to expect. The leaders seemed excited, though. The Laurels and the Beehives— the age groups above and below the Mia Maids, respectively— had other things planned, so it was just Winslow and four other girls her age sitting in the Primary room while the leaders finished preparing. This was the room that the younger kids in the ward would come to for “singing time” before or after their Sunday school classes. There was a bulletin board for each of the three wards that used this building, and Winslow sat closest to the one for hers. She eyed the crafts that had been pinned there to see if she could spot her siblings’ among the array.

The Mia Maids each sat at their own small table, opposite an empty seat, as they had been instructed to do when they arrived. At some point, Tammy had come in and placed a large stuffed animal opposite each of the girls. Winslow now faced a gorilla with beady plastic eyes.

The other girls were turned around in their seats to chat with each other, but Winslow became preoccupied with her phone, enduring a conversation with Reid. He had started to feel guilty for being upset with her earlier in the week, so he had spent the whole afternoon apologizing profusely. Winslow wondered if refusing to sit with him the past few days was what made him realize he was in the wrong.

Looking down at the screen in her hand, Winslow read a recent message from him. “I'm a terrible person,” it said. “I don't expect you to forgive me. I suck.” It was easily the fourth or fifth time he had said something self-deprecating in the past hour, and Winslow was starting to feel bad for being so upset with him. Maybe she shouldn't have stormed out on him when they'd argued.

“It's okay, we both went too far,” she responded. She then followed it up with, “Don't beat yourself up.”

A new message from Reid appeared. “I'm just so awful. I feel terrible. How can you even stand me?”

Winslow frowned at her phone. He clearly regretted what had happened. She shouldn't have let herself get so worked up about it. She began typing, chewing her lip. “People make mistakes, it's okay. I'm sorry for overreacting.”

Reid typed for a moment before a new bubble appeared, simply saying, “I forgive you.”

Winslow frowned again, debating what to say. Nothing felt quite right. She sighed and turned off her phone, setting it on the table between her and the stuffed gorilla.

A leader, Hannah, walked in and said, “Okay girls, let's get started,” prompting the chatter to immediately die down. “We're going to be working on etiquette tonight! This will come in handy when you all start turning sixteen and can finally start dating, huh?”

Winslow anxiously twirled her CTR ring around her finger. It felt ironic, trying to soothe her nerves with something that symbolized "choosing the right” when it was her own choices that made her feel this discomfort. Her eyes flitted around the room, trying to avoid the glances that the other girls threw her way. Winslow was the only one who had been breaking the “no dating until age sixteen” rule that many families in the church adopted at the recommendation of several church leaders. Technically, she and Reid had never been on a proper date, but they might as well have.

At the front of the room, Hannah continued. “So, to start, we all know not to date until you're sixteen, but let's go over some of the other counsel—”

Winslow tried to act casual, but the anxiety continued to overwhelm her. The leaders were listing guidelines from the For the Strength of Youth pamphlet, which was full of behavioral standards that leaders of the church encouraged youth to follow. All she really heard was rule-after-rule that she had fallen short on obeying. Group dates were strongly recommended, but Winslow and Reid usually hung out by themselves. It made her uncomfortable at times, but Reid accused her of wanting other people around because she didn't trust him, which wasn't true— though he did kiss her by surprise the first time they were alone together. She had pushed him away and said she didn't want to date until she was sixteen, and he said they were practically already together, so she shouldn't keep worrying about that. This also meant that they were ignoring another guideline— youth were supposed to avoid getting serious with someone or going on a lot of dates with the same person. After their recent conversation in his car, though, Winslow couldn't bear to think about what Reid would say if she didn't want to be exclusive.

Winslow looked ahead at the stuffed gorilla and tried to shove her worries aside in order to focus on the activity. Surely, the other girls weren't actually looking at her, right? They were probably just looking around the room, or maybe she imagined the whole thing. Why would any of them care if she was dating Reid, anyway? Regardless, she couldn't shake the feeling that several pairs of eyes were focused on her throughout the entire discussion.

As the lecture continued, the leaders shared some additional rules they recommended the girls adopt when they begin to date, namely that they should always politely accept a date when asked. It takes a lot of bravery for a boy to ask someone on a date, so you should never turn them down without a good reason. This sounded a lot like the talk Winslow had been given when she turned fourteen and started going to region dances— church-sanctioned dances held every month for the youth in the area. She never enjoyed them, and she only attended a few before she started throwing away the invitations.

Another big thing the leaders wanted the girls to remember was that it's mainly their responsibility to keep boys from stumbling.

“They get excited easily,” the leader had explained. “For boys, it's almost like flipping a lightswitch, but it isn't like that for us girls. That's why more of the responsibility to be chaste and moral falls on us.” The idea made Winslow squirm.

Finally, they shifted focus towards more general etiquette guidelines, like keeping your elbows off the dinner table and how to properly eat soup. Though she was glad to move away from what left her feeling small and ashamed, the damage had been done. Winslow couldn't focus on her mock-date with the stuffed gorilla, and she feared that the other girls could see the tears stinging at her eyes the rest of the evening.