The Cannibals by Cynthia D. Grant

couldn’t have done it without the Man Upstairs.”
    â€œYour grandpa’s on the roof again?”
    â€œThat’s not funny!” I said. “I won’t even talk to you if you’re going to act like that!”
    He sighed. “I’m sorry I’m being so crabby, Tiff. I’m having some trouble with this math.”
    One thing I admire about Campbell: Not only is he handsome and a fabulous athlete, but he’s also a very serious student. It’s amazing, when you think of it, how much we have in common.
    â€œWhat I was trying to say,” I continued, “is that you should feel blessed by this opportunity He’s giving you.”
    â€œMr. Goldman?”
    â€œGod!” I said, but suddenly I was filled with dread. “You do believe in God, don’t you, Campbell?”
    â€œNot really. It seems so unlikely,” he said.
    My heart sank. How could I even think of marrying a man who doesn’t share my faith? What about our children? They have to go to Sunday school! I loved Sunday school when I was little. We sang and drew pictures and drank pink punch. Nowadays I can’t always make it to church, but I know that wherever I am, God is with me.
    â€œHow could there not be a God?” I said. “Otherwise, where did everything come from? The world and all the birds and stuff?”
    â€œThat’s a long story, Tiff,” he said. “And I’ve really got to get this homework done.”
    â€œLet me ask you one question,” I said. “When you have a basketball game, don’t you pray to God to help you win?”
    â€œNo.”
    â€œYou don’t ?” I said. “Why not?”
    â€œI’m sure God has more important things to do,” he said. “Like wiping out child abuse and famine, for example.”
    â€œThat’s just the point!” I said. “He can do it all! He’s everywhere , like Santa Claus on Christmas Eve.”
    There was a slight pause. I could hear Campbell breathing.
    He said, “You don’t believe in Santa, do you, Tiff?”
    â€œThat’s it,” I said. “End of conversation. But I really feel sorry for you, Campbell, I really do. You must be so empty inside.”
    I hung up the phone and said a quick prayer for Campbell. Then I remembered I should pray for Wally, too. It turns out that he never went back to his school! He’s been spotted running around in the jungle, with paint on his face and his hair all crazy, wearing a loincloth and his Cannibals sweatshirt!
    According to his dad, Wally’s joined some native tribe and may even have taken a native wife ! What on earth can Wally be thinking? He’s way too immature to get married. And you’d think he’d at least have the decency to tell me! We haven’t even officially broken up!
    I blame myself—and Shelby—for this. We should never have told him about Campbell.
    When Wally’s dad told me the news, I said that I would be willing to go on worldwide television and plead with Wally to listen to reason and act normal and return to his school.
    I’d tell Wally that I know what it’s like to feel hopeless, and like you don’t have the strength to carry on, but that every cloud has a silver lining, and it’s always darkest before the storm.
    Wally’s dad said that was a very nice offer, but there was one tiny problem: There’s no television reception in the jungle.
    Poor Wally. What a nightmare this must be for him. He loves to watch TV.
    I noticed that on the cover of Little Tina’s book, there are the words “As Told To” and somebody’s name in tiny little letters you can barely read. I was thinking of asking Miss Jones to help me turn this video journal into a book, but then we’d have to split the profits, and besides, she never takes me seriously. When I told her my plan to turn this into a best-seller, she said, “That’s very