by Lamar Giles
We made our way back to the parking deck, divided into vehicles. This time, Kiera didn’t angle toward the open van door. “Okay if I ride with you?”
I said, “You’re not worried about your girls anymore?”
“Jameer’s with them.” She cut her eyes to the Burton boys. “I figured you could use a little relief on the ride home. They’re very energetic.”
My heart stuttered. This . . . was what I’d been waiting for, and wanting. Sure, I still had the Burton Brothers with me, but, whatever, I’d endured worse.
Bobby ran to the passenger door. “Shotgun!”
“Get your ass in the backseat,” I snapped, and the entire crew froze for a beat before cracking up.
Bobby slid behind the passenger seat, mumbling, “What kind of world is it when ‘shotgun’ doesn’t mean anything?”
Ralph joined his brother, sounded like a mobile wading pool, and I couldn’t take it anymore. “What’s in your backpack, Ralph?”
The twins exchanged villain grins. Ralph unzipped his bag and pulled out something I mistook for a lunchbox, until I didn’t. “The hell?”
Kiera said, “Have y’all lost your minds?”
Ralph had a box of wine. Black with gold trim and lettering. “We stole this out our mom’s pantry.”
Bobby said, “It’s a Malbec.”
Like any of us knew what that meant.
“Is your mom going to know it’s missing?” I was more worried than when I spotted Sister Vanessa.
“Naw,” said Ralph. “Probably not. Mom’s an extreme couponer and she’s been stockpiling these for a while. There are like twenty in our basement.”
“Take it back,” Kiera ordered.
“But we thought it could be like communion. All of us.”
Kiera’s mom-like rage receded; she looked to me. I had nothing.
We followed Angie’s van back to the highway, much later than planned. We’d get back close to the library’s closing time, provided traffic was kind.
It wasn’t.
Angie’s brake lights flared as my phone GPS announced: “A collision is causing a half-hour delay.”
The highway was apocalypse still.
The dread in the car became palpable. Boxed wine was the least of our worries.
Kiera fished her phone from her pocket and called Jameer on speaker. “Hey! We’ve got a problem.”
“We know. Everyone’s freaking. Helena especially.”
What would happen to them—us—if we got caught? I couldn’t imagine more than a Mom and Dad lecture on my end, maybe losing my car keys for a couple of weeks. But I’d seen the wrath brought down on Jameer. Humiliation, privacy stripped away. Never considered that his parents might not be the most extreme in the church.
Kiera went silent, thinking. “Jameer, tell everyone to text their parents. Say I suggested we all go for pizza and milkshakes to continue our fellowship. We’re walking from the library, to Antonelli’s Italian restaurant. We’ll be done by eight.”
“Yes,” Ralph said, drafting the text.
“You’re awesome, Kiera,” said Bobby.
If it worked, that’d give us an extra three hours to get back to Green Creek. More than enough time. Impressive. More so because of who it was coming from. I was more turned on than ever.
Each parent approved the pizza date with no extra conditions, on the strength of Kiera’s endorsement. Good thing, too. That half-hour delay became a full hour. The library was dark and abandoned when we pulled into the lot to regroup.
We piled out, crowded between our vehicles. Jameer said, “Now what?”
“We do what we told the parents we’d do.” Irritation bled into Kiera’s voice. “Go to Antonelli’s, order pizza and milkshakes, then actually talk about our purity presentation. Enough fun for one day, guys. We’re lucky this didn’t go south.”
Reluctant grumbles favored Kiera’s thinking. Bobby Burton had a different idea. “We could get the pizza to go.”
“And do what?” Kiera activated full mom-voice. An unspoken warning in the air.
Where Bobby faltered, Ralph excelled, finishing the proposal. “Communion.”
He unzipped his bag and showed everyone his stolen wine. Sullen Qwan was the first responder here. “Whatever this is, I’m with it.”
Angie cut him some wicked side-eye, but did not object.
Jameer said, “I would not be opposed to breaking bread and drinking drink with my brothers and sisters.”
“Jameer!” Kiera scolded.
This particular demon was loose and hopping bodies. I was fascinated seeing the Pledgers so eager to break more rules.
“Unbelievable!” Kiera said. “We can’t crack open a box of wine here in the parking lot, you know.”
Jameer said, “I have a spot.”
Qwan clapped his hands. “Then it’s settled. What y’all like on your pizza? First person to say ‘pineapple’ getting slapped.”
Chapter 21
WE POOLED MONEY, GRABBED THE pizzas—pepperoni, not pineapple—and a sleeve of red plastic cups. We let Jameer navigate to “his spot.” Him in Angie’s van, me following. The path took us to the edge of town, toward thick bands of forest. Turning off the main road onto a blink-and-you-missed-it passage, asphalt became a foliage tunnel. The ceiling was crisscrossed branches, the floor gravel tracks with lush grass between the treads. Angie’s van bounced like a bad dancer ahead of us. My teeth rattled. “What is this place, Kiera?”
“I don’t know.”
Another minute and the ceiling lifted, exposing a darkening late-afternoon fall sky. I was so close to Angie’s bumper that I couldn’t see beyond. She veered left, opening up our view and, real talk, I was stunned.
We’d reached the creek our town was named for. A grassy bank ran right to the water’s edge; to either side you could see it running from some unseen source, toward a train-track overpass and beyond.
I parked, and exited the car as the van’s side door was flung open, Jameer the first one out. The Pledgers followed, then Qwan, then Angie. Kiera stood close to me, with the Burton Brothers circling, their boxed wine exposed. Ralph had it by the handgrip in the box’s top, while Bobby punched out the perforated notch at the bottom, freeing the spigot.
“J.” Qwan tore open the packet of cups. “This spot is fire. How’d you find it?”
“A friend showed me.”
I knew what friend he spoke of. I clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Thanks, bro.”
Qwan passed cups out to everyone, but hesitated when he got to Angie. She waved him off. A few eyebrows arched.
“We’re driving.” I stood tall next to Angie, and handed my cup back.
There was a question in her stare: Did I know? My answer, “I’ve got a case of water in the trunk. My dad’s big on being prepared for emergencies.”
Qwan bullied the Burtons away from the box, and filled his cup first. “Seniority, little ninjas.”
When the brothers tried again for their portion, Jameer shoved past them, filled his cup like it was fruit punch. “Seniority.”
Kiera said, “You don’t need that much for communion, Jameer.”
“My spirituality is deep.”
When the Burtons leaned in, Kiera jumped forward, playful, blocking them once again. “Seniority.”
That got everyone laughing, even if she only took enough wine for a sip or two.
The rest of the Pledgers got in, finally. Most keeping their share of the wine closer to Kiera’s portion than Qwan’s and Jameer’s. Except for Helena. I caught her trying to go all in. I reached over and flipped the spigot closed, then tipped her cup, spilling half of her overly indulgent haul onto the grass. “Chill, you little alkie.”
“Boo!”
Angie poured water for me and her. Once we each had a cup, Qwan said, “How do we do this? A toast?”
“Grace,” Kiera said. “Every head bowed, every eye closed.”
Like church, they obeyed. Even Angie and Qwan. Like church, I Prayer
Peeked.
“Oh Heavenly Father,” Kiera began, “thank you for traveling mercies to and from the university today. Thank you for this time of fellowship. And may your awesome spirit remind us that we are not to lose control of our senses as we break bread and drink wine in your name. This is communion, not a drinking game.”
Jameer coughed loudly. “Wrap it up.”
Kiera huffed. “May we continue to love each other as You love us. And may You remind Jameer that I can still beat him up. Amen.”
The laughter was thick as we brought those cups to our lips.
We cracked open the three pizzas we’d acquired, munching, chatting, drinking. Happy. Together.
The sun sank, throwing golden rays across green, mossy creek water. We told stories. Funny things from school. Funny things from church. Qwan slipped an arm around Angie’s waist, pulling her close, and she let him. The two of them disappeared into the van, and I was concerned the situation might get a little . . . mature. But they kept the door open, and their ongoing mumbling conversation relaxed my fears.
Shanice asked the other girls, “Have y’all looked at any Purity Ball dresses yet? This is the one my mom bought me.” She had her phone out, swiping through photos of the dress she planned to wear when our time in the Pledge was completed and we had our final celebration. The ladies gathered around her oooohhhhed and aaaahhhhed.
Helena said, “I haven’t looked at dresses yet. But I’m thinking I want something blue. That’s my favorite color.”
“I’ve been working extra hours,” said Mya, “because I’m going to need a Purity Ball gown and a prom gown this year. My mom can’t get them both on her own.”
Jameer, who’d refilled his cup, maybe more than once, said, “You could wear the same one.”
Even I knew better than that. While they sizzled him with heat vision, my eyes cut to Kiera. Mya brought up the prom, had me thinking about dresses, too. And tuxedos. Matching corsages and cummerbunds.
I nearly said something bold, feeling some magic in this secret place. Only Angie and Qwan’s conversation got suddenly louder.
“Oh, that’s what you’re worried about?” Angie said, snatching everyone’s attention.
“Chill. I was joking.”
“Well, I ain’t laughing, Qwan.”
I jogged to the van’s passenger window. “Everything okay?”
“I gotta go.” Angie twisted the ignition and revved the van’s engine. Party over.
“Dude?” I said to Qwan.
He had a dejected look, stared straight through the windows toward the dark forest. “She’s right, let’s go.”
What. The Hell. Just Happened? We were doing so good. Me and a bunch of kids shooting for years of chastity, on purpose! Sitting by water that would probably kill us if we drank it, eating mediocre pizza, and sipping stolen wine.
It was awesome. Until it wasn’t.
Kiera said, “Time to pack up, everybody.”
Mostly everyone participated in the cleanup, stuffing used plates into a grocery bag and stacking emptied cups for later disposal. Jameer stood off to the side, though, thumbing something into his ancient phone. When the secret grotto was litter free, we piled into the vehicles, got back to the main road. The closer we got to the restaurant, the more it seemed like whatever spell we’d experienced was false magic. Kiera still rode shotgun, though. That was something. The glowing Antonelli’s sign came into view.
Looking tense over whatever happened with Angie, Qwan remained on task, distributing Altoids to cover any lingering wine scent. Then, one by one, parents showed up to retrieve their particular Purity Pledger. Me, Kiera, and a slightly wobbly Jameer greeted each parent like the good chaperones that we were until only the Burton Brothers remained. They’d stashed the half-empty wine box in my trunk, and were buzzed enough to attempt some freestyle raps that were better than that mixtape. There was hope for them.
Their mom’s minivan pulled to the curb, the automatic door sliding. They said their goodbyes and hopped in. Within seconds of them pulling off, a familiar car pulled to the curb in front of Antonelli’s. Me and Kiera had seen it drop Jameer off the night we walked home from Mama Marian’s. Jameer, suddenly overjoyed, ran to greet the driver.
He stepped from the vehicle, taller than all of us. Rail thin. His hair was all shiny curls. Sparse stubble covered his cheeks and chin like moss. He wore a plain gray hoodie and loose jeans, the opposite of Jameer’s daily almost-formal wear. Wardrobe differences aside, the two embraced with warmth and longing that made me jealous considering the foot-long gap separating me and Kiera.
Jameer pried himself away from the boy, and said, “Kiera, Del, this is Ramsey. Ramsey, these are my friends.”
Ramsey waved. “Hi!”
“What’s good, Ramsey?” I dapped him up.
Kiera, reserved, said, “Nice to meet you, Ramsey.”
Jameer patted Ramsey’s chest, then came to us for a word. “I’m not going home yet.”
Kiera went bug-eyed. “You can’t be serious right now.”
Jameer’s demeanor darkened. “Is keeping this secret a problem for you, Kiera?”
“Yes. No. I mean not for the reasons you think. I can’t go home without you.”
“I know. So cover for me. Give me an hour. I’ve done it for you.”
He had? When? For what?
She leaned in, her words pointed. “What am I supposed to do until then?”
The question stung. The answer seemed obvious to me. We—me and her—would talk. Get to know each other even better. But I stayed out of this. Jameer still seemed a little off-balance from all that wine. He smelled of sour grapes and desperation. “I need one night to be me, Kiera. Please.”
She crossed her arms, stared at the sky. When she met his eyes again, she said, “Keep your phone on and don’t be late.”
Jameer threw his arms around her, kissed her cheek. “Thanks, K.”
He ran to Ramsey’s ride, hopped in the passenger seat, and the two of them disappeared to wherever. Leaving me and Kiera alone.
“Well?” she said.
“We don’t have to walk this time.” I motioned to my car, dangled my keys. “We could listen to music. Or talk.”
She mulled it over. Each second feeling like a gut punch. Was it that hard to decide?
“Okay,” she said finally. “We can discuss what our presentation will look like.”
In the car, I turned to an old-school station. Smooth music my parents played when I was growing up, a quiet soundtrack. She didn’t seem eager to talk about our presentation, or anything. To break the awkwardness, I said, “I gotta ask, because I was super nervous when I saw her show up. What happened with you and Angie on the ride to CU?”
“We cleared some things up.”
“Should I stop prying?”
“No. Everyone else heard us, and I knew some of the truth already. There were still enough lies in the mix to make me want to be between the girls and Angie. She brought up Colossus. Said she wanted me to know nothing really happened between them. Though he did try.”
“You believe her?”
“Colossus tried stuff with other girls before. I didn’t do anything because I didn’t know how. I was taught to forgive.”
I’d heard that lesson, too. On more than a few Sundays.
“Finally, got tired. Just in time, I guess.”
I said, “He never deserved you.”
She got quiet again. The need to make the conversation continue, to crack a joke or ask a question, felt urgent. I fought it. Jaylan’s voice in my head. Do you spend much time listening to each other?
A couple of random turns, and an extra mile on my odometer later, she said, “Do you feel weird being in the pledge even though you’re not a virgin?”
It stunned me enough that I couldn’t respond quickly. She said, “I’m sorry. That’s a little too personal, isn’t it?”
“No,” I said, recovering, amazed at how me and Shianne’s lie still powered on. I
t was exhausting in ways, and I considered telling her the truth, right then and there, that we were both virgins.
Instead, “I feel like you can commit to purity at any time.”
It was something I regurgitated from one of Sister Vanessa’s lectures.
“You’re right. Of course,” Kiera said. “Do you ever feel tempted, though? Like maybe you can’t be pure, even if you promise?”
The endless repetition from our classes became my crutch. “I remind myself there’s something better waiting for me. With the right person.”
I waited for her to catch on and say the timing was finally right, that she was the right person, that she felt all I felt for her.
She didn’t.
Our small talk became stagnant. The drive aimless. She spent most of the ride staring at her phone, sending the occasional text. I got aggravated. It was kind of rude ignoring me like that.
When Jameer’s requested hour was near its end, she was obviously irritated, so I had to ask, “Is this about time, or that he’s with a guy?”
Maybe it sounded harsher than I meant. I wasn’t in the best mood.
“I’ve known Jameer liked boys forever. He’s one of my best friends.”
“You’re cool with it, then?”
“Yes.” There was some bite in her voice. “I’m cool with it.”
“Even though the church isn’t?”
“My church means a lot to me, in many different ways, but I still think for myself. I won’t be a bigot no matter what, and I believe my God is fine with that. Do you have a problem with Jameer and Ramsey?”
“Not in the slightest.”
“So why’s it feel like we’re having an argument?”
I didn’t answer fast enough. Couldn’t.
“Can you start driving me toward my house? We can park on the back street and wait for him there.”
Fine. As you wish.
The hour Jameer had asked for became an hour and fifteen minutes. Then an hour and a half. The tension in my car shifted by degrees, as Kiera kept checking the time on her phone.
“What is he doing?” She sent her dozenth text.
Her phone buzzed back. “It’s my mom, asking where I am.”
