Excerpt from My Latest Novel-in-progress: A BYU Dating Drama in Five Acts

This episode from my latest novel-in-progress is based, nearly exactly, on a call-opening I witnessed as a freshman. I thought it was rather unique until I saw this glowing example of bad parenting on a BBS.
So enjoy, "The Mission Call":

“So, Gideon, tell me about yourself,” Abby began, and they both knew she was going to ask the BYU equivalent of name, rank, and serial number: hometown, major, and mission. “Where are you from?”

“Newport Beach, California,” he answered smoothly, as if his hometown was not famous for being the home of the lately popular teen drama The OC. Newport Beach, California, was slightly less famous, even in the Mormon world, for being the site of a beautiful temple built on multimillion-dollar land with money entirely out of the pockets of the local members of the Church.

Abby decided to play this revelation as cool as Gideon was, “Cool. Um,” she paused to give the next question an air of originality, “have you chosen a major yet?”

“Economics.” Gideon sighed, he knew what question came next—

“So where’d you go on your mission?”

Gideon considered the answer to that inevitable question to be his second-greatest shame. His greatest and most secret shame was that he was ashamed of where he served his mission. He just had not expected it to be so . . . ordinary.

The opening of the mission call was a rite of passage during the BYU freshman experience. The eighteen- and nineteen-year-old young men waited for their call-opening day and attended their friends’ in solidarity. The young women attended their sweethearts’ call-opening celebrations to watch their boyfriends rip away from them as the envelope flap ripped away from its origin. People often took bets (for which the prize was bragging rights) on where the missionary was to serve—the more exotic, the better.

Gideon’s call carried with it all the promised revelry. It came on a Thursday in November; the mail was delivered at three in the afternoon, and Gideon rushed home from class four to check the mailbox, as he done every day since he submitted his papers to Salt Lake two weeks previous. There was the precious letter! It was a thick white 9×13" envelope addressed to “Elder Gideon Abbott” with “The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints” printed in the top left-hand corner.

Through his roommate Jon Grant, who had received his call to Montreal the Thursday before, mass text messages announced the good news:

Gideon got his
call! He opens it
seven tonight.
Come!

And so a crowd gathered in his tight kitchen at Heritage Halls, BYU’s apartment-style freshman dorms. By seven-fifteen, enough people were squished in the room that they nearly touched, though not quite. Gideon’s parents and sister were on speakerphone. Triumphant, he held up the heavy envelope for all to see as his friends called out their guesses: “Peru!” “Ghana!” “You’re so smart, you’ll go to Finland!” “New York City, Spanish-speaking!” “Fiji!” “Maybe you’ll go to Montreal with me!”

Finally, a lull settled over the crowd. Gideon’s heart swelled with pride has he brought the envelope to his breast and methodically lifted the seal. He pulled out the letter—straight from President Hinckley himself—and read aloud, covering most of it so he could not read ahead:

“Dear Elder Abbott: You have been called to serve a mission for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in—”

The gathered friends—now seriously intruding on each other’s personal space—stomped their feet and pounded the table and purred with their tongues.

Gideon uncovered the rest of the letter and glanced over it. He tried to keep the smile on his face.

“Well, where’re you going?” someone shouted.

“Honey, what does it say?” came Sister Abbott’s tinny voice from Gideon’s cellphone speaker.

After a deep, steadying breath, Gideon read: “Portland, Oregon, English-speaking.”

Three seconds passed empty.

Again, Gideon’s mother’s disembodied voice spoke, “Oh. That’s nice.”

“Yeah!” whooped Jon, failing to regain his former enthusiasm, “Gideon’s going to Porrrrrt-land!”

“Whoo hoo,” echoed the crowd, mustering a few seconds of metallic applause.

Sarah Jensen, the girl Gideon had been dating since the middle of September, offered Gideon a “Congratulations, you’ll be great,” and a platonic hug. “I’ve gotta go do H-work now,” she apologized.

“Me, too.” John Wilson, a friend from down the hall, clapped Gideon on the back and followed Sarah out.

Soon Jon and Gideon were alone in the dorm kitchen. The Abbotts were still on the line: “Well, Son—good luck,” began Brother Abbott in a hearty voice, “My mission in Kyoto was the best experience of my life.”

Parents and son chatted for a few more minutes, but just before he pressed End, Gideon heard his mother ask his father, “Oh, Dave, can’t you call someone? The poor boy’s devastated!”