Not So Pure and Simple

by Lamar Giles

  “‘I don’t know how long I sat there. It felt like hours. But the contrast of colors, beauty, and the casual way you spoke on a subject that was causing me immeasurable anguish made me click your next video, and your next, instead of deep-diving for ways to remove myself from this world. Without meeting me, and without knowing it, you saved my life . . .’”

  Cressie’s eyes glistened, reflecting twinkling stage lights. “There’s more to the story, and much more to the woman who’s about to take the stage, but I’ll let you see that for yourself. Join me in welcoming the creator of Jaylan Knows, Jaylan Perry Monroe!”

  We were a hive mind rising in unison, applauding, as two more people joined Cressie on the dais. A buttoned-up woman in a blue pantsuit like Mom wore, and the woman whose face I’d seen across dozens of videos over the last week. Jaylan was petite, shorter than my sister. Maybe one hundred pounds if you counted the sandalwood bracelets stacked up her forearms and the huge hoop earrings brushing her shoulders. Not a hair out of place; her brown skin glowed. Her smile warmed the coldest heart in the back row.

  Jaylan hugged Cressie, who mopped starstruck tears from her cheeks with no shame, then took a seat in the nearest armchair as the professor type took the other, casually shuffling index cards in her palm.

  Sixty minutes went by in a breath. The professor did not waste time getting into the topics Jaylan covered in her videos. Dating. Sex. Mental health. They touched everything, relating it back to Jaylan’s own tough background—an inner-city kid whose parents worked so much she barely saw them. She always had questions, and spent nearly every afternoon and evening at her local YMCA in the teen computer nook, researching any topic that came to mind, filling stacks of single-subject notebooks with her findings.

  “I had so many notebooks, they formed teetering towers along one wall of my room. My big brother said I kept manifestos like a serial killer”—big laughs from the audience there—“but what I had was an external brain. I couldn’t keep all of my thoughts, and concerns, and worries up here.” She tapped her temple. “They would’ve driven me insane.”

  The professor leaned into Jaylan, nodding. “Fascinating. You were very young when you started the habit of writing it all down.”

  “Yes, maybe ten or eleven.”

  “But”—the professor cocked her head, intrigued—“there came a point where your interests changed?”

  Jaylan caught the pass handily. “Yes. When I began puberty, the topics I worried about changed. Before, I was concerned with music, and puppies, and science, and basketball. Almost overnight there was an urgent shift. I needed to know about the things my body was doing. Even though my mother made time to explain in the best way she knew how, it wasn’t adequate.”

  “Why?”

  “Because everything else I was hearing was wrong.”

  Down my aisle, each and every one of the Purity Pledgers tipped forward, drawn toward Jaylan as if she were a low-powered magnet.

  “Nothing was consistent,” Jaylan said. “The correct information was vague. The incorrect information was abundant. The confusion was maddening, and I spent all of my teen years in trial-and-error mode. Navigating a sexual awakening minefield in snowshoes, if you will. No one should have to go through that. When I got to college, on scholarship, I worked my butt off to get my first computer. When my parents saved up to give me a phone with a decent camera built in, I decided I’d trade in the notebooks for a video journal. My first entry was called ‘Dorm Sex,’ which was a facetious title because I was really talking about the pros and cons of coed versus same-sex dorms. A friend dared me to post it. Within a couple of days it had fifty thousand views with requests for more. Now, one point four million subscribers later, you all know the rest.”

  They talked more about the struggles of being a brand, how she dealt with critics, and trolls. Too quickly, the discussion was over, and a couple of polo-shirted techs dragged mic stands to either side of the room. The professor said, “We’ll be opening the floor for Q and A.”

  People lined the outer aisles. Glancing down the row at the Purity Pledgers, I mouthed, Well?

  Honestly, I didn’t expect any of them to get up. Shanice proved me wrong. The bravest of us, she slid into the aisle. Shockingly, Mya, who’d sworn she was so not into my Answer Man role among the Pledgers, followed. As did Ralph Burton.

  Further down the row, Qwan stood, letting Angie pass since his bony knees were butting against the seat in front of him. She joined the line right behind my people.

  It was the first time I thought of the Purity Pledgers that way. My people.

  The house lights came up. The mic line on the other side lengthened with folks anxious to ask Jaylan questions, too. I might not have noticed who else was in the building if not for the dress she wore. The same one from the day I started down this path and she quizzed me on my reasons for wanting to remain sexually pure.

  Sister Vanessa had a question for Jaylan, too.

  Chapter 20

  SCRAMBLING FROM MY SEAT, shouldering past people who’d lined up behind Angie, I hissed, “Mya, Shanice, Ralph! We gotta go now.”

  Mya’s mouth screwed up to argue like we were at FISHto’s. I pointed and said, “Sister Vanessa.”

  Shanice spotted her. Like a lost toddler seeing their mother in a crowd, she took an instinctive step forward as if she intended to say hi, but then remembered all of us weren’t supposed to be here.

  Ralph and Mya caught on quickly and excused themselves from the line. The room was noisy with chatter and shuffling as people either moved to a mic line, or shifted to allow others passage. The professor’s voice echoed through speakers as she asked people to settle down. Thankfully, they were slow complying, which allowed me time to wave the rest of my crew off the row and sneak from the room.

  Everyone except Angie.

  “We gotta go,” I said, picturing a swift escape to the parking deck, cars, and back to Green Creek.

  Angie refused to leave. “I don’t know that woman.”

  Really? Was it too soon to call her a cranky pregnant lady?

  Me and the rest of the Purity Pledgers couldn’t stay; we’d figure a rendezvous later. Qwan joined Angie in the mic line, mouthing Text me, bro.

  I led the Purity Pledgers to the auditorium’s back exit, keeping them between the wall and the ever-growing mic line. Eager Jaylan fans provided ample cover until we were clear.

  Once in the lobby, we gathered in a loose huddle.

  “What is she doing here?” Kiera asked, brow creased, almost angry.

  I had nothing. Maybe she was here to chastise Jaylan. Call her out for promoting filth on the internet. I didn’t think anything I saw on her page was filthy, yet I could see 90 percent of her content being fodder in a Newsome sermon. Counterproductive to our purity mission.

  “We gotta get outta here,” Bobby said, afraid and decisive in a way that was more unnerving than spotting Sister Vanessa. He kept exchanging glances with his brother, who still clutched his backpack to his chest like he was protecting a baby. Strange.

  Jameer leveled his gaze on me. “Where to now?”

  “We should leave this building. Eventually people will start coming out and we don’t want to run into Sister Vanessa th—”

  “Del!”

  I closed my eyes—shit!—cold fear icing every part of my body. Turning like a brave man facing a firing squad, I said, “Cressie?”

  My sister approached, giving us a slow up and down. She lingered on Kiera, smirking. Then, to me, “About time you got woke.”

  Cressie took us to an adjacent building, the campus gym. Sparse groups of students wandered in and out with towels, and basketballs, and weight-lifting belts while we settled in the near-empty foyer. I texted our location to Qwan, got the Pledgers settled in the bleachers, then prepared to deal with what I knew was coming.

  “Why have you been dodging my texts?” she asked.

  “I haven’t. I’ve been busy.”

  She punched me in
the arm. Playful and excited. “The Taylor Burkin episode of my show has been blowing up. I’m at like nine thousand subscribers now. It’s wild! My viewers are Green Creek crazy.”

  “Why? It’s Green Creek.”

  “Tell me about it. My professor says people are seeing us like an Everytown. We’re the poster child for female oppression, and puritanical values.”

  “That’s . . . something.”

  “Think about it. There are some teen pregnancies, the town treats it like a curse. Yet, the sex ed class that’s teaching students about ways to be safe and avoid unwanted pregnancy gets canceled because of pressure from some religious zealots.”

  I glanced over my shoulder at the chatty Pledgers. “How do you know that’s what happened?”

  “My anonymous source. Since you won’t help me, I’ve been leaning on her information. It’s a gold mine. Whoever she is has documents, meeting minutes. Did you know the school lets clergy have a say in what goes into the sex ed curriculum? Whatever happened to separation of church and state?”

  “You sound like Mom and Dad.”

  “I talked to them. They said you were taking that class, but they had no clue it had been canceled. Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Because it was dumb.” I felt defensive, needed to distance myself from ever caring about Healthy Living. “Stuff we already know.”

  “Apparently not.” Cressie shook her head, not like she didn’t believe me, but in apparent awe. “It’s amazing we’re this far into a new millennium and we’re fighting battles that should’ve been won before we were born.”

  I said, “You working on a show about what happened with Green Creek’s sex ed class?”

  “Not just Green Creek, all across the state. The problem is systemic. Different standards, different texts from school district to school district. I’m shining a light on all of it.”

  “Awesome.”

  Cressie leaned and looked past me. “What’s up with your ragtag group of rebels?”

  Mya huffed. “Another Star Wars fan? It runs in the family, huh?”

  Cressie, full attitude, said, “So?”

  Mya backed down, none of the Harvest Fest sass I’d gotten. “Nothing. I don’t want any problems.”

  Cressie said, “Y’all go to my mom’s church, right?”

  Like good criminals in the making, they kept their mouths shut. I answered, though. “Yes. We’re all in Purity Pledge together. We dipped out because we saw our Purity Pledge teacher there.”

  “Purity Pledge? As in the sworn denial of any physical urges or pleasure to please a patriarchal oppressor?”

  Mya, full attitude, said, “So?”

  Cressie nodded, chuckled in a humorless way. “It’s a choice, I guess. My bad. I don’t want any problems.”

  “You can’t tell Mom and Dad you saw us here,” I said. “There could be trouble.”

  “I won’t snitch. I’m glad you got a chance to come and expand your mind. I gotta get back; they’re going to wrap up soon and I want some one-on-one time with Jaylan. You can hang here. No one’s gonna bother you.”

  “Thanks, Cress.”

  She hugged me. No sneak pinch. No soft jab to the solar plexus. Just love. “It’s good to see you here, baby bro.”

  Cressie began to step away when Shanice stopped her. “Ms. Rainey?”

  “Oh no, sweetie. Let’s not do that. Cressie’s fine.”

  “Okay. Um, will Jaylan come back soon? I still want to ask my question.”

  Cressie frowned.

  I said, “Shanice, probably not. She’s pretty busy and—”

  “Hold that thought, baby bro,” said Cressie. “Don’t hit the road until you hear from me.”

  “I gotta have them back before their parents try to pick them up from the library.”

  “Boy, wait!” She stomped off, leaving us irritatingly perplexed and cautiously hopeful. My sister, a woman of contradictions.

  Twenty minutes later Qwan and Angie entered the gym. His hands were stuffed deep in his pockets, like he was trying to scratch his knees from inside his jeans. Angie smiled when she saw us, a forced thing.

  Kiera said, “Did you get to ask your question?”

  Angie nodded. We waited, melting her with expectant stares. Maybe it was rude, but she’d asked the question in public. She could repeat it.

  “Wow,” she said, “you’re like puppies waiting for kibble. I asked how she made difficult decisions. She seems to be killing the game, so I was curious about how someone like her thinks.”

  Mya piped in. “What’d she say?”

  “I said”—Jaylan entered the gym with my sister on her heels—“Examine, evaluate, extrapolate.”

  The girls perked, with Shanice squealing a little.

  Angie shrugged. “Well, there you go.”

  “Examine all of your current options.” Jaylan paced before us like a drill sergeant. “Evaluate the pros and cons of each. Extrapolate each pro and con out one year, three years, and five years to determine the possible results. Thinking about it that hard, that clinically, will make things so much clearer. In case any of you were wondering.”

  The girls applauded. I had to admit, her swagger was crazy. It was like being in the presence of a future movie star, or president of the United States.

  “Cressida tells me you all couldn’t make it into the Q and A line. I wish I’d known. I don’t get to speak to groups your age too often.”

  “Why?” asked Kiera.

  “I’m considered a bit too risqué for school visits below the college circuit. Such a shame, because I remember being your age. What I talk about, I think you need the most.” She sat on the bleachers, motioned for us to join. “So, let’s do it.”

  “Do”—I felt slow on the uptake—“what?”

  “Q and A. Just for you.”

  My sister beamed. “I asked as a personal favor.”

  “She’s been an amazing guide,” Jaylan said, arching her back in a cat stretch, obviously tired, but pushing through it for us, “and is doing some important work on her channel. This week in particular.”

  Cressie’s smile almost split her head in two.

  Jaylan said, “You’re all from the same town? Green Creek?”

  “Yes,” I said. “We are.”

  The Pledgers swarmed. Settling into seats on the bleachers like bees settling onto sunflowers, ready to lap up all that could be taken. Kiera sat, and I nuzzled next to her. Qwan and Angie climbed higher into the bleachers, his legs sprawled, and her between them using his knees as armrests.

  Shanice dived in, the need for anonymity abandoned. This whole trip was a pact: we’d all be keeping each other’s secrets. “Is it bad that I think about sex a lot? I don’t want to do it, but I think about it all the time.”

  “Not bad,” said Jaylan, “human. I thought about it a lot, too. Still do, if I’m being honest,” she finished with a wink.

  Ralph and Bobby asked various questions about approaching girls. Helena had her questions. Surprisingly, Mya jumped in. Even Qwan had an odd question about if girls liked dudes who could cook? This went on for about half an hour. When the group ran out of gas, Jaylan said, “Nothing I can help you with, Del?”

  Everyone stared. Most had shared some secret yearning with Jaylan. Why not me?

  “Um, sure. In relationships, how do you move forward from a situation that started kind of rocky?” I asked.

  Jaylan popped an eyebrow high. “Move forward, or move on?”

  “Forward,” I said. My palms felt damp.

  Jaylan said, “I ask because sometimes the available choices get confused. Particularly when there are rocky starts. Everything good doesn’t have to be hard.”

  “How do you know all this stuff?” Jameer asked, tense, his voice gruffer than usual. “How do we know you know what you’re talking about?”

  “It’s easy to give others good advice. The only time we’re objective is when it’s not about us. If I broadcast my mess-ups, I could have my o
wn soap opera in addition to my channel. Is there something you want to ask me—?”

  “Jameer,” he said.

  “Do you have something on your mind, Jameer?”

  He shook his head and waved off the request.

  “What about you, lady?” Jaylan focused on Kiera.

  “What do you do if you’ve been hanging on to this old feeling, and you’re guilty about it, but you want to move on to whatever’s next?”

  My pulse sped up. She was talking about Colossus, had to be. She wanted to move on. Wanted what was next. I squeezed her knee, and she jumped a little, surprised.

  Jaylan scrutinized her. And me. “That’s pretty vague.”

  “For now, it has to be. I hope that’s okay.”

  Jaylan nodded. “Maybe you need to find the right person in your life to discuss that guilt you’re feeling? Probably best not to do it in a large group. A single, good friend would do.”

  One corner of Kiera’s mouth turned up slightly. “Thank you.”

  Kiera’s question brought us near the end of things. Jaylan had a question for us, though. “Do you spend much time listening to each other?”

  There was a stirring among us, no one stepping up. Maybe no one knew the answer. I tried anyway. “We talk a lot.”

  Jaylan said, “Not exactly the same thing. You all seem like really bright kids. You’ll figure that part out.”

  She extended her hand, and I shook on behalf of my friends. “We appreciate you taking the time to speak to us like this.”

  She gave my arm a big pump. “It’s not totally altruistic. This sister right here”—she motioned to Cressie—“is buying me the best Thai food in the state, right?”

  Cressie said, “That is accurate.”

  “I’m determined to earn my keep. So thank her.”

  I hugged my sister. “Thanks, Cressie.”

  “You’re welcome. Get those kids home safe.”

  That was always the plan.

  The Pledgers filed past me in a line, like ducklings. When Ralph passed, I heard that strange swishing from his backpack again, and my Spider-Sense tingled.