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Nikki Grimes - A Girl Named Mister

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Book:
A Girl Named Mister
Author:
Nikki Grimes
Publisher:
Zondervan
Genre:
Books / Science fiction
Year:
2010
Rating:
4 / 5
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A Girl Named Mister: summary, description and annotation

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Nikki Grimes, a bestselling author known for titles such as Dark Sons, Barak Obama: Son of Promise, Child of Hope, and Voices of Christmas has written a gripping book from the perspective of a girl named Mister (Mary Rudine) who finds herself momentarily distracted from her faith commitment to purity by a handsome boy named Trey. After one night of weakness, Mister finds her entire life has changed, even if she cant yet accept all the changes occurring within her are real. When the emotional scars of losing her innocence are more lasting than she imagined, Mister turns to a book of her mothers, which contains poems from Marys perspective. As both Mister and Marys voices play out in the story, a full and meaningful portrait of Christian faith, trust, and forgiveness emerges, along with the truth that God can use even the most unplanned events in our lives for his greater glory.

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Mary: When Gabriel Comes

I. A bright light turns the night of my chamber into day and pries my eyes open. What do I see? A being lit from within, a giant whose voice is quiet thunder. Fear not, he says, too late. I quake, rubbing my eyes anxious to wake from this dream. I am Gabriel, says the voice, more soothing now. I bring a message from God.

Trembling, I rise ready to listen. Still, what am I to make of his amazing words? That I, a virgin, am to be mother of Messiah?
II. All things are possible with God. The truth of it falls on me like rain. I slowly drink it in, then lift my arms, surrendered. I am yours, Lord. Do with me as you will.

He wraps his light around me.
I am never the same again.

Mister: First Touch

How did it happen?I told myselfits only touching.I told myselfmy clothes are still on.But who was I kidding?Even throughmy rayon-cotton blendhis touchburned the world away.

Be careful about starting something you may regret.
Syrus, Maxims

Blame it on my mother. Shes the one who named me Mary Rudine. The name is some throwback her old-fashioned thinking came up with. Nobody but Mom has called me Mary Rudine since forever. First it was Mary, then it was M.R. Mister is all anybody calls me now.
My boyfriend used to think it was cute, a girl named Mister.

Used to think I was cute. Used to be my boyfriend what feels like a million years ago. Then again, I used to be a good Christian girl, the kind who would never, well Just goes to show how little people know. Even I was surprised by me. Now, I close my eyes hoping to see exactly where I went wrong.

Was it that long ago? I remember one morning sitting in church, keeping my eyes on Dante, the cutest boy in the band.

Mom caught me. Quit eyeing that guitarist like candy, she whispered. I laughed easy. In those days, Mom and me, we could talk about anything.

A second home, as familiar as skin. Crammed inside its walls memories of Sunday school, all-church picnics, and vacation Bible school Sword drills.

My youth group meets there, and choir, of course. Even my old Girl Scout troop once hung out on holy ground, meeting in the church basement. I could always count on the deacons to take dozens of cookies off my hands. Im just saying, Gods house was cozy territory, no question. Until this last year.

For as long as I can remember, I have loved to sing in the choir.

Sing, Mister folks call out as my voice does a high-wire reaching for heavens hem. I dont know what my friend Sethany concentrates on, but whenever she sings about the Lord her face gets this inside-out glow. Thats all I know.

Ankle deep, my faith a thing I wade into now and then. Not like Sethany.

Im not sure when it happened, but one Sunday I woke up and for me, church was mostly about hanging out with friends at Gods house.

And for the longest time, that seemed to be enough. After worship, Mom would flash me a smile that said Good girl! as Seth and I trotted off to youth group.

I turned the music of the world way up, my feet itching to dance to a new rhythm, something other than gospel.

Mom calls volleyball my new religion just cause I practice every day. How else will I get better? Let her razz me all she wants. I figure since I was good enough to make the team, maybe volleyball can help pay my way to college.

It could happen. you know what they say about miracles.

It was a Tuesday. It was almost clich. He raced round a corner, rushing to class, and smashed into me. My books went flying and so did my temper.

Thanks to this bonehead I was going to be late, which put me in no mood for his apology, and I was all ready to cut him down to size with my eyes, until I caught his. Those long lashes got me, the way they softened the hardscape of his face. One look, and they softened me too. Are you okay? asked Trey. I said something, I think, or maybe I just nodded, or smiled. Its not my fault I cant remember.

Blame it on those stupid lashes.

I asked around, found out Trey is one of those guys who hangs out on the fringes of our group. He doesnt go to church but seems to like Christian kids, so I figure he probably believes in God. Thats one point in his favor.

I never thought he was perfect. I wont tell myself that lie.

But he was fine, had a twinkle in his eye with my name on it. And when he smiled I fell into him headfirst, got lost in his laughter. I saw no danger. After all, we were just friends.

I remember the first time he claimed me. We were at a party with a bunch of kids from school just after Thanksgiving.

Id gone with Sethany. Trey had shown up on his own, like always. Seth and I were chatting away when some guy from a school cross town came up to me for a dance. Before I had a chance to speak, Trey threw me a look, then got all in this guys face, smiling though and saying nice as anything, Excuse me, but this is my girl.

Trey found me in the library, surprised me with a kiss on the back of my neck. distracting me a little more for good measure. distracting me a little more for good measure.

So, of course, I had to go back to the top of the page and start reading Do Not Go Gentle Into that Good Night all over again.

I cant usually stand know-it-all b-ball players, but I liked the way Trey committed to steering clear of drugs, and how he talked about keeping his body pure something we had in common, even though I know it doesnt mean the same for him and me. Maybe, one day it will.

Trey said hed be happy to hang out with me wherever, so I invite him to video night at church. Soon as the lights wink out in the rec room and Princess Bride blinks onto the screen (never mind that weve all seen it a gazillion times!), Trey whispers in my ear that he wants me all to himself. No more of these group dates on video night, or lame trips (his words) to the local skating rink for spins around the ice and cups of hot chocolate.

Why cant we, you know, go on a real date, just you and me? yeah, why not? I start thinking. Why not?

Careful, Seth warned me. I see the way you look at Trey, the way he looks at you. Remember, we both promised God wed wait. Were not doing anything, I told her. Were not doing anything, I told myself.

Still, I couldnt help but notice how the purity band on my ring finger seemed loose lately. Like any day now, it might just slip off.

Alone at his house, his parents I dont know where, we sit on the sofa, the TV watching the heat rising between us. I tingle all over as Trey closes the distance. Its okay, I tell myself. I wont let it go too far.

But before I know it, his hand is rubbing my inner thigh, racing toward my waist, reaching underneath my What am I doing? Stop! I tell him using what little breath I have left, too trapped in my own frustration to worry about his.

I switch on the TV, see this boy and girl plastered against the wall of some fictional school, kissing their brains out, then sneaking inside the boys room. Together. I shudder, slightly disgusted, and turn away. Still, I start to wonder if all the other kids are right. Am I Miss Priss? Am I making too big a deal about waiting?

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