Outside

by Sewell, Nicole

  Eyes wide, I say, “I’m sorry! I don’t think that at all! I really didn’t mean-”

  “Wear the jeans and I’ll forgive you.”

  My face crumples. “The jeans?” Knots form in my stomach.

  A small part of me says it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. Everyone here wears pants, or less. Would it really be so bad? And it’ll keep Holly from being mad at me or assuming I think I’m better than her. “Okay,” I say, nodding. “Just this once.”

  Beth intercepts us as we’re heading for the car at 8:40.

  “Going out?” She crosses her arms over her chest, blocking our path to the front door.

  “Just for a little while,” Holly says, grabbing my arm to pull me around Beth.

  “We’re going to socialize,” I say brightly, tugging my arm out of Holly’s grasp.

  Beth raises an eyebrow and her eyes land on my jeans. “Oh. I see.” She turns to Holly. “How many people will you be socializing with?”

  Holly touches the ends of her hair. “Um, a couple. Drew will be there. And Jacki, of course.”

  After a long, tense silence, Beth says, “Alright. But call if you’ll be later than midnight.”

  “Midnight?” Holly moans. “What am I? Ten years old?”

  “I want a phone call before midnight, young lady. Got it?” Beth narrows her eyes at Holly.

  Mother would never agree to anything like this. The fact that Beth is allowing us to go, and giving us a generous curfew of midnight, is bewildering. I’ve never been anywhere but in bed at midnight.

  “Fine,” Holly huffs. “I’ll call. Can we go?”

  Beth smiles. “Have fun.”

  Holly stops off to pick Jacki up.

  “You’re wearing the jeans!” Jacki squeals, reaching into the backseat to poke me in the thigh.

  “Beth didn’t even say anything about them,” I say. I guess I didn’t really expect her to. She wants me to fit in as bad as Holly does. They both push me to do things their way at every opportunity, though Beth’s pressure to conform is far less aggressive than Holly’s. She takes a more passive approach, asking me questions about Shiloh and my beliefs that I can’t always answer.

  “And your hair is so cute like that!” She gestures to my braid and I realize I forgot to take it out.

  I lower my head and mumble, “Thank you.” There’s no way I can take it out now without both of them giving me a hard time. I guess I’m breaking all the rules this evening. Pants, braided hair… What’s next? Jewelry?

  Sitting back, Jacki sighs. “I am so ready to get wasted.”

  Before I can ask what that means, we round the corner and pull into a familiar driveway. I recognize the stenciled G’s on the garage doors and the sphere-shaped bushes on the front porch. “I thought you said this was a church social!”

  “Relax,” Holly says, eyeing me through the rear view mirror as she shuts off the engine. “This isn’t a big deal.” She turns in her seat to face me.

  “Does your mother know we aren’t going to your church?” I stare at her in wide-eyed terror.

  Holly sighs. “She knows. Seriously, chill out.”

  “Serena told me about the Papergirl thing,” Jacki says, turning so they’re both looking at me. “It’s really not a big deal. Adam was just teasing.”

  Holly scowls at Jacki. “What Papergirl thing?”

  Jacki laughs, sitting back again. “Alaina thought Adam was picking on her. He calls her Papergirl. I told Serena he was probably flirting with her.”

  Holly narrows her eyes at me, sizing me up for a long, uncomfortable moment.

  “Are we going in?” Jacki asks, opening her door.

  “Stick close to me,” Holly says as I unbuckle my seatbelt.

  We walk in without knocking and Serena skids into the foyer, sliding across the glossy wood floor in rainbow striped knee socks, nearly knocking into a girl carrying three red cups.

  “I was wondering when you’d get here.” Her glassy eyes dart past Jacki and Holly to me. “Whoa! Pants! Nice!”

  She leads us through the house. I’m careful to keep my legs together as I walk, checking for Adam as we go. It’s hard to say whether I’m looking for him so I can avoid him, or because secretly, deep down, I want to see him again.

  There are too many people here. Most of them are in the backyard. I can see them through the glass door at the far end of the hallway. The few who are inside are playing some kind of game in the living room involving coins and cups of beer, Holly and Jacki included. A few people are smoking a sharp, skunky smelling substance. No one smoked in Shiloh, but we were told about it. I’ve only ever seen a picture of a cigarette. The thing Drew is smoking and passes to Serena looks nothing like the cigarette I saw. It’s larger and wrapped in some kind of brown paper. Serena inhales deeply before blowing a cloud of smoke at the ceiling. Holly waves it away when Serena tries to hand it off to her. She shoots me a quick nervous glance before returning her attention to the game.

  Not wanting the inhale any of the smoke, I choose to stand against the wall in the hallway.

  There are more boys here than I thought there’d be, making me self-conscious of my legs and hair. I press my knees together in an attempt to hide the outline of my inner thighs.

  “Aren't you the papergirl?”

  Startled, I look up into bright blue eyes. It’s him. Adam.

  He gazes down at me, his eyes sparkling. “It is you. I barely recognized you without your fancy skirt.”

  Swallowing hard, I look away, pressing my legs together more firmly.

  He leans down, dangerously close to my ear. “I like your hair like that.”

  When I look up at him again, he’s smiling. “You don't talk much, do you?”

  “Women of the Lord...” I trail off and shake my head. “No. I don't speak much.”

  He brings a red cup up to his mouth. “So what's your name?”

  Serena’s suggestion of telling him my name to avoid being called Papergirl echoes in my head. “Alaina.”

  He nods.

  Nervously, I peek up at him. It's normal for girls to speak freely here. I decide to try it out. “What's your name?” It’s a dumb question. I already know his name. I’m just too nervous to think of anything better.

  “Adam.” His eyes follow a boy chasing two giggling girls down the hallway before landing on me again. “You want a drink?” He holds up his cup.

  “No, thank you. I don’t drink.” I stare at the floor, unable to maintain eye contact. It feels too personal.

  “Me either,” he says. “This is just Coke.”

  “Grayson!” The boy who was chasing the girls stops in front of Adam and rattles his cup. “Outta ice, man.”

  I glance up, watching as Adam nods. “No problem. I’ll get more.” The boy moves off and Adam turns to me. “You wanna go somewhere?”

  My eyebrows pull together and I look up at him without meeting his eye. “You want me to leave?”

  He smiles. “No, I meant like do you want to ride with me to get more ice.” He gestures to the front door.

  “I can't leave Holly,” I say.

  “It's okay. We'll be right back. She won’t even know you’re gone.”

  I hesitate, my heart pounding in my chest, the automatic “yes” on the tip of my tongue. I tell myself that the reason I’m willing to trust this boy, this sinner who called me Papergirl, is because I want to make the most of my time out here. When one of the other Elders takes over and reopens Shiloh, I want to go back and be able to tell them I used my time to do the Lord’s work; to observe as much as possible and contribute valuable information for future missionaries.

  Nodding once, I follow him and a little thrill ripples through me. This might be going beyond observing, but I can’t stop myself.

  He leads me to the front door, setting his cup on a small table to the right of it.

  Once outside, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out some keys. Clicking a button on the key, the lights on a small black car
with tinted windows flash.

  “So, you’re Holly’s cousin, right?” He glances over at me as we weave between cars to get to his.

  I nod and try to remember to breathe. I’m about to get in a car, alone, with a boy. In pants.

  In Shiloh, if we were caught doing anything like this, we’d both be flogged.

  It’s harmless enough, though, I tell myself. We won’t be touching. Just sitting near each other.

  That’s what Dinah probably said to herself in Genesis, chapter 34.

  He opens the passenger side of the car and gestures for me to get in.

  There’s still time to turn back. I can still tell him no and go inside before this all goes horribly wrong. I don’t know him. Sure, Holly and her friends say he’s harmless, but what is harmless to them could be the right opposite for me. He might see my pants as an invitation.

  He raises his eyebrows at me. “You alright? You don’t have to come.” His forehead wrinkles with concern.

  Swallowing hard, I make my decision and step forward. I’m doing this. It’s a car ride. Nothing more.

  As I pass him, my hand brushes his and I jerk it away quickly.

  He smiles at me as I fall into the seat, flustered, and shuts the door.

  “Why are you so jumpy?” he asks when he gets into the driver’s seat.

  Shrugging, I pull the seatbelt across my body at the same time he does his, and once again our hands touch. Quickly buckling my belt, I decide it’s safer to keep my hands in my lap. “Where I come from, girls don’t go places with boys like this, or talk to them openly. Girls don’t really speak at all, actually.”

  “I guess that makes you quite the rebel then, doesn’t it.” He starts the car. The engine rumbles in a low, smooth way. Nothing like Holly’s car. Or any of the vehicles in Shiloh. His dash lights up, casting a neon blue glow on his face. “So, it’s some religious thing, right?”

  “How’d you know?”

  He backs out of the driveway, one hand on the back of my headrest. I can smell him. Something clean, but warm. Almost like a spice. “Holly told us about you a while back. Then when you gave me that speech about your skirt and being pleasing to the Lord, I kind of put two and two together.”

  We ride in silence for a while. Every time I get the nerve to glance at him, he catches me and gives me that crooked, dangerous grin.

  He’s a sinner. I need to keep my guard up. He’s clearly been put in my path as a test.

  I won’t fail.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ADAM

  This girl barely talks and it’s starting to freak me out a little. I turn on the radio to break the silence and she flinches, blinking hard every time the bass pounds through the speakers.

  “Sorry,” I mutter, turning it off. I didn’t expect her to agree to come with me, honestly. From the way Holly tells it, this girl is more than some bible-thumper that dresses like she fell out of one of those historical reenactment groups. She’s supposedly brainwashed. And I’m pretty sure she’s the girl they were talking about on the news that was found nearly beaten to death in a shed.

  I sneak a peek at her. She doesn’t look brainwashed. Or like she nearly died a few weeks back. She just looks…nervous. Really nervous.

  I park in front of the front door at QuikTrip and unbuckle my seatbelt. “I’ll just be a minute unless you want something. A drink? Candy? Smokes?”

  Alaina shakes her head. “No thank you. I don’t smoke.”

  Smiling, I nudge her arm with my elbow. “I know. I’m joking.” I open the door. “Relax, Alaina. Don’t take everything so seriously.”

  I get out and go inside. The cashier greets me and I head for the back corner of the store where they keep the ice. Taking a bag, I move toward the checkout. My eyes land on the candy rack and something occurs to me. Alaina has probably never had candy. There’s probably a ton of things she’s never had and a million things she’s never seen. I would have gone crazy growing up in a place like she did. Just the thought of being walled in makes my skin crawl.

  This girl has some catching up to do. And it’s going to start with sampling all the best candy QuikTrip has to offer.

  As I’m pulling bags of candy off the rack, the front door opens.

  “Evening, Larry,” the cashier calls.

  “Evening.”

  Shit. I’d know that fucker’s voice anywhere. Officer Larry Motherfucking Patterson. The biggest asshole on the Sugarloaf police force, and Brittany’s father.

  He stands behind me. I can feel him staring at my back with his beady gray eyes.

  Reluctantly, I turn and face him.

  “Well, well, well,” he says, putting his hands on his belt.

  Larry is a good four inches shorter than me. He lifts his chin and puffs out his chest to make himself appear bigger.

  “Officer Patterson,” I say unenthusiastically.

  “Getting some snacks?” His reddish mustache twitches under his nose.

  “Snacks? Nah. These are offerings for the demonic summoning ritual we’re having tonight. Couldn’t find any real kids to sacrifice, so these Sour Patch Kids will have to do.” I lean forward a little and whisper, “I’m sure the devil won’t mind.”

  Patterson’s face goes red and he draws himself up as tall as he can. “You have a real attitude problem, Grayson, you know that? A real issue with authority.”

  I shrug. “Sue me.” My eyes dart past him to the cashier who’s checking her phone. “Gotta go.” I step around him.

  “Disrespectful little shit,” he spits, turning on his heel to march off toward the Krispy Kreme donut case.

  I pay for everything and leave as quickly as I can without looking like I’m running away. As soon as I get outside, I spot his car parked right next to mine. He probably followed me here. Or saw my car as he was driving by and decided to come in to harass me.

  Fighting the urge to throw my bag of ice through his front windshield, I go around to my driver’s side door and open it. “Here,” I say, passing Alaina the white plastic bag full of candy before I drop the bag of ice on the floor next to her feet.

  She opens the bag and peeks inside as I start the car. “What is it?” She pulls out the Sour Patch Kids.

  “Those are the shit,” I say, backing out of the parking space. “You ever had them?”

  Shaking her head, she hesitates before placing them back in the bag as I take a left onto Satellite Boulevard. “I’ve never had any of this. What is it?”

  “Candy. You’ll love it,” I say. “Try something.”

  She cautiously picks through the M&M’s, Skittles, and random candy bars. “We made candy in Shiloh on rare occasions. Usually after someone brought sugar back from a mission trip since we couldn’t grow it in our gardens. Elder Stedman’s wife made it.” In the glow from my dashboard, I see her smile. “I never really liked it much. It tasted like dried toothpaste. I didn’t know candy could come in any other flavor.” She pulls out a bag of Peanut M&M’s and looks to me, biting her lower lip, like she’s waiting for permission.

  “Go for it,” I say. “You’re not allergic to nuts or nothing, are you?”

  Shaking her head, she carefully tears the corner open and pours a few into her palm. I’m so wrapped up in watching her, I barely notice the blue lights flashing in my rearview mirror.

  “Shit.” I mutter. “For real?”

  “What is it? What’s wrong?” Her eyes go wide and panicked.

  “Patterson.” I swerve to the side of the road and slam my palms on the steering wheel.

  She flinches. “I don’t understand.”

  “Me either,” I say, reaching across her for my registration in the glove compartment. “I didn’t even do anything.”

  “What should I do? Should I hide?”

  I can’t help but laugh as I close the compartment. “Why would you hide? We didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Patterson knocks on my window with the end of his flashlight and I sigh, turning to Alaina. “Just, you know,
don’t make any sudden movements.”

  She nods as I put the window down.

  “Well, well, well.” That’s all this asshole knows how to say, I guess. He leans down to see into the car. “And who’s this?” He smiles insincerely at Alaina.

  I ignore his question. “I didn’t do anything, man. You can’t pull me over for no reason.”

  Patterson straightens. “Oh, I got a reason; suspicious activity.”

  Groaning, I let my head fall back against the headrest. “Come on. When’s this shit gonna stop? This is harassment.”

  He laughs. “I’m going to need you to step out of the car.”

  “Dammit,” I growl, unbuckling my seatbelt. I turn to Alaina as I open the door. She’s trembling. “Hey, it’s okay. Everything’s fine.” I smile, hoping to reassure her, and climb out of the car.

  I’d knock this douche bag out for scaring her like this if he wasn’t a cop.

  As soon as I’m out of the car, Patterson slips his flashlight into his belt and walks me to the back, shoving me against the trunk. “Spread your feet,” he says, kicking the space between my shoes. “Hands behind your back.”

  Rolling my eyes, I do as he says. Resisting will just draw this out. “You need a hobby,” I say as he slaps cuffs on my wrists. “Take up tennis or something. You seem like a tennis guy.”

  Patterson yanks me backward by the cuffs, walking me to the curb. “Have a seat while I talk to your girlfriend.”

  I shake my head as I sit on the curb. “What the hell is wrong with you? Just riding around, stalking people so you can harass them and feel like you did some shit? It’s sad. You’re a grown man, picking on a seventeen-year-old kid.”

  “I’m so sick of you,” he sneers. “Cruising around in your fancy Lexus, thinking you’re hot shit because your daddy’s an attorney, disrespecting people, running your mouth. If you were my son, I’d bust you in the teeth.”

  “Lucky for me, you’re not my dad. And lucky for you, you have daughters. I’m pretty sure busting kids in the teeth is abuse, cop or not.”

  He leans down so we’re nose to nose. I do my best not to react to his sour coffee breath. “Do not talk about my daughters.”