Free Gorilla Beach by Nicole "Snooki" Polizzi Page A

stained-glass windows. Bella inhaled the scents of wax, wood, and lemon Pledge. A regular churchgoer as a kid, Bella had stopped attending as a teenager. While her mom was in surgery, though, she’d gone to the hospital chapel and prayed like she played.
    Her prayers were answered. After months of treatment, Marissa was in remission. For now. Her mom had a fifty-fifty chance of a recurrence, which would be a virtual death sentence. If Marissa stayed healthy for five years, she’d be considered “a survivor.”
    Gia read Bella’s mood. “You’re My Lady of the Perpetual Balls. You blew my mind this year. No one’s as tough as you.”
    Bella looked down at Gia’s huge, dark eyes and felt the love pouring out of them. That did it. The tears came. She sank into apew and cried. Until this moment, Bella hadn’t let herself sob for her mom. Consciously or not, she thought crying meant Mom was dying. If she held her tears inside, everything would be okay. It was a superstitious bargain she’d made with herself.
    Blubbering, Bella said, “Our Lady of the Perpetual Mortification.”
    â€œYou mean me?” asked Gia.
    â€œNo, me! I’m crying in public!”
    â€œIt’s not public. It’s a friggin’ church. And you have to let out your feelings, Bells, or you’ll get emotionally constipated.”
    â€œI have feelings,” said Bella. “That doesn’t mean I need to broadcast them.”
    Of course, Bella was upset about her mom! She would love to scream at her dad for being an incredible tool. She’d love to smack down the girls who rejected her at school, the boys who treated her like a stupid slut. But Bella’s tendency was to bottle and cork the anger. Gia was Bella’s human corkscrew. Everyone agreed Bella was dangerously repressed about her hell year. Marissa pushed Bella to go to Seaside for July. She said, “You need some down-the-Shore-time with Gia. Have fun. Do all the things I was afraid you’d do last summer. Get drunk and hook up with boys. It’s unwind or unravel, Bella. You have to unwind.”
    Weak as she was, Marissa practically shoved Bella out the door. Yet, this was how she honored her mom’s wishes? Crying in church?
    â€œI’m okay,” said Bella, pulling herself together.
    â€œReady to destroy this place?” asked Gia.
    â€œBiblically.”
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œForget it.”
    They followed a trio of blue-hairs to the basement and found the “games” room. The windowless space was devoted to bingo, with five long tables and dozens of chairs facing a small table inthe front of the room. On that table was a metal cage contraption with a plastic hand crank and little white balls inside.
    The girls scanned the crowd. Had to be forty women here. They seemed to fall into one of three distinct categories. The Godfather grannies bore a striking resemblance to Mother Teresa. The Real Housewives of Seaside Heights were Donna Lupo–type femooks dressed modestly for church in slacks and silk tops, but with full hair and makeup. Furs and diamonds were not allowed in the house of the Lord, apparently. A dozen or so women looked homeless, nut-ward escapees dragging plastic garbage bags of empty cans and bottles, wearing oversize, pilly sweaters in July.
    â€œDon’t they seem a bit old, snotty, and grubby to be playing a game called Bimbo?” asked Gia.
    â€œBingo,” said Bella.
    â€œI know, right?”
    â€œThe game is called bingo, not bingo like ‘you nailed it.’”
    â€œYou mean this game is called bingo? Like the talking lizard in the Johnny Depp movie?”
    â€œI think that was Ringo,” said Bella. “Or is that the Beatle?”
    â€œEww. Lizards and bugs?” Gia groaned. “I hate this game already.”
    Maria was in the back row, waving her arms to get their attention. It was still a shock to see Maria as blond as