CHAPTER TWELVE
ALAINA
We settle in seats in the center of the dimly lit theater. In front of us is a wall-sized screen displaying images that change every few seconds.
“Now what?” I whisper to Adam, clutching four boxes of candy in my hands.
“Now,” he says, setting the bucket-sized Coke in the holder between us. “We wait for it to start.”
There aren’t many other people in here with us. Maybe because it’s a “bitch” movie.
“Adam?” I busy myself with opening the box of Milk Duds so I don’t have to look him in the eye when I ask. “What does bitch mean?”
He’s quiet, and when I look up, he’s chewing the ring in his lip to keep from smiling. “It has a few meanings, but mostly it’s, uh, a derogatory term for women.”
Shaking my head, my eyebrows pull together. “I don’t understand. How is this movie a bitch, then?”
He laughs. “It’s not. I told you not to listen to Bryce. He’s an idiot. This movie is marketed toward females. That’s all he meant. He was being crass about it.”
I nod and dig a Milk Dud out of the box. Adam puts his arm across the back of my chair and the air stirs with his scent. That heady, warm scent that I smelled in the car the night of the party. I can’t help leaning into him a little. Resting my head on his shoulder while we waited in line earlier was definitely a bit much, but this, sitting close with an armrest between us, I think this is okay.
The lights fade to black and without warning the screen in front of us comes to life, noise blaring from the walls. I jump, nearly dumping my Milk Duds. My stomach twists with nerves. This is it. There’s no going back.
The screen plays what Adam tells me are “previews” before I get my first glimpse of Avryn. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen and she has wings! Real wings! I know from reading the book that Avryn’s wings don’t work. She can’t fly like the other faeries. It’s why she rides Windshadow.
I’m riveted in my seat. I’m not even sure I’m blinking at this point. It isn’t until Hayze and Avryn appear on screen together, meeting for the first time, that I remember that they make love later in the story.
My cheeks burn and I glance at Adam. He smiles and I look away quickly.
They won’t actually show it, will they? So far, the story has skipped around, leaving out little parts that were in the book. Maybe they’ll skip the love-making too.
Except the love-making was a big deal in the book.
I squeeze the mostly-empty box of Milk Duds in my fist, cringing as I say, “Adam?”
“Hm?”
“They won’t show… They… The love…” I babble like an idiot, unable to say the words. Instead I peek up at him.
He leans close. “This is PG-13. They’ll show kissing. That’s about it.”
I nod, relieved that he understands what I’m asking, and even more relieved that I won’t have to sit through anything more than a kiss or two.
My relief is short-lived, however. The kissing that takes place when I’m half-way through a box of Sour Patch Kids is unlike anything I’ve ever seen.
In Shiloh, when people are paired, they kiss during the ceremony by touching their lips together. Avryn and Hayze are practically eating each other’s faces! Hayze lifts her, like in the book and pushes her dress out of the way. I know what comes next. I’ve read the details so many times, I can recite it word-for-word.
I look away, ashamed for them. Ashamed at myself for watching their intimate moment for as long as I did.
It takes me a second to realize I’m looking directly at Adam.
“You alright?” he asks, squeezing my shoulder.
“Fine,” I squeak.
“It’s almost over,” he says, smiling crookedly.
Sucking in a deep breath, I say, “Good,” and shove a handful of Sour Patch Kids in my mouth.
After the movie, we walk out of the theater and Adam slips his hand into mine.
“Is that girl back?” I whisper, glancing around, expecting to see his old girlfriend lurking nearby.
He laughs. “No, I just wanted to hold your hand. Is that okay?”
My stomach swoops nervously. Is this okay? I want it to be. It feels okay. Better than okay. This is special.
“Yes, it’s okay,” I say, smiling up at him.
The mall is less crowded now and we take our time, not having to dodge any frantic, bag-wielding people.
“So,” he says, swinging our arms. “What’d you think?”
“Aside from all that kissing, it was the greatest thing I’ve ever seen,” I say. “It was just like the book. Where did they find so many people with wings?”
He squints at me, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Those weren’t real. People don’t have wings. It’s all movie magic.”
My cheeks burn. “Oh.” I should have known that.
He smiles and wiggles my arm. “You hungry? Want to get some pizza or something?”
I have no idea what pizza is, but I nod. “Sure.”
He guides me toward the door we came in originally, letting go of my hand to open it for me. We step outside into the stifling summer heat despite the fact that the sun is starting to disappear behind the outline of buildings to the west.
Adam slips his hand back into mine and we cross the parking lot. Fishing his keys from his pocket, he presses a button as we approach his car. The lights flash, illuminating a small, beat up, white car parked in an adjacent spot. Someone is sitting inside while the engine runs.
Adam, oblivious to the stranger, pulls me to his side again. “Not so bad, huh?” he says. “And you’re not addicted, right?”
“Right,” I say, still focused on the shadowy figure in the car.
“TV is just like that, but the shows are shorter and usually have less kissing, depending on what you’re watching.”
I look up at him and blurt, “Have you ever kissed anyone the way they kissed in the movie?” As soon as it comes out of my mouth, I want to shrivel up and die. My eyes widen in horror and I clamp my free hand over my mouth. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to say that,” I say, only it’s muffled by my palm.
Adam smiles. “It’s okay.” He stops behind his car, still holding my hand. “And to answer your question, yes.” His fingers brush a stray strand of hair away from my face.
My heart thumps in my chest like a galloping horse and I swallow, afraid it will beat its way out of my body if I don’t hold it in. “Does everyone here kiss like that?” My voice is a whisper.
He shrugs, “Yeah. I think so.”
“Oh.” I glance down at the black asphalt.
“No one kisses in Shiloh?”
“They do,” I say, looking up at him again. “Just not… They don’t open their mouths.”
He raises one eyebrow, giving me a crooked grin. “That’s a shame. It’s a lot better that way.”
A thrill ripples through me and I realize I want to kiss Adam like that. I want it, badly.
But not today. I’m not ready.
He squeezes my hand after a moment. “Come on. Let’s go eat.”
We pick up two pizzas and take them back to Adam’s house. As soon as we pull in the driveway, he groans.
“Fuuuuck,” he says, turning off the car.
“What’s wrong?” I glance out the window, expecting to see the blue flashing lights of a police car. Instead I only see a sleek red car with no roof and a large black truck with enormous wheels that shine like mirrors under the security light above the garage.
“My dad and his wife are here.”
My eyebrows pull together. “Is that bad? Should I leave?”
He shakes his head. “No, it’s okay. I just…” He turns to me. “I hate her.”
I flinch. Hating a family member is a sin. “You shouldn’t hate your mother,” I say, quietly.
“She’s not my mother,” he says. “She’s my dad’s wife. My mother died when I was twelve.”
I stare
at my hands. “Oh.” Death is something I never had to deal with in Shiloh. No one there ever died. Until recently, I believed it was because we were the Lord’s chosen people. But since Mother confirmed that Elder Berman is a liar, I know that’s probably not true.
I’ve seen pictures of the graveyards they have here. Rows and rows of stone monuments to the dead. I peek up at him, unsure of what to say.
“Sorry,” Adam says, pushing his hand through his hair. He takes a deep breath and blows it out. “Let’s just go in. You’ve already met my dad. You can meet Christine and we can eat pizza and hopefully they’ll leave us alone.” He smiles, but it’s forced. It doesn’t reach his eyes.
When we open the front door, I’m nearly knocked over by the smell of onions and garlic.
“Gross. She’s cooking,” Adam mutters. He shifts the pizza boxes under one arm and points me toward the living room, shutting the door behind me.
I stop in the living room doorway. The TV is on and Adam’s father paces in front of the couch, talking on his cellphone, oblivious to my presence. His voice is low, but I can’t help overhearing.
“…Get someone to do it! I won’t lose this case because you’re too-” He pauses, listening to whoever he’s speaking with.
Adam edges past me with the pizza and I jump. His dad turns and nods to him before taking his conversation out the door on the far end of the living room, his voice even quieter.
As if he’s reading my thoughts, Adam says, “He’s an attorney,” and shrugs. He puts the pizza on the coffee table and then settles on the couch, patting the cushion beside him.
As soon as I’m seated, he switches the TV to something I recognize: Baseball.
“Braves are playing,” he says opening the pizza box. He reaches for a slice and stops, glancing up at me. “Have a seat. I’ll get some plates and stuff. Do you want a Coke?”
“Just water, please,” I say.
He nods and disappears into the hallway.
I perch on the couch, staring at the pizza instead of the TV. Moments later, Adam returns, scowling, with paper plates in one hand and a bottle of water and a can of Coke in the other.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, sitting up straighter. Then I see that he’s not alone. A woman with enormous breasts spilling out of her top walks in behind him.
“Look at you!” The woman smiles at me, but her large brown eyes narrow as they take me in.
Adam sets the plates and drinks on the table. “This is Alaina. Alaina, this is Christine.”
I stand, ready to greet her, willing myself to look her in the eye.
“Jesus, Adam! Use a coaster!” Christine snaps.
My eyes shift between them. Adam’s jaw clenches but he doesn’t say anything. Instead he reaches for a stack of discs in the center of the table and plunks two down before setting out drinks on them.
Christine turns her attention back to me. “Aren’t you cute.”
I have no idea how to respond, so I just smile and study her wavy, chin-length hair to avoid staring at her breasts.
She eyes the pizza boxes next. “Save room. I’m making my famous manicotti!”
Adam wrinkles his nose and drops onto the couch, grabbing the TV controller and turning up the sound.
“You like manicotti?” she asks.
My eyes flicker to her chest involuntarily. “I don’t think I’ve ever had it,” I say, forcing my eyes back to her face.
“Trust me, you don’t want it,” Adam mutters.
Christine exhales through her nose, reminding me of the way Mother would just before she slapped me. I brace for it, flinching when she lifts her hand to push her hair behind her ear.
“For heaven’s sake, girl!” Christine laughs and pushes my arm down. “I’m not going to hit you.” She turns on Adam. “What have you been telling her about me?”
Adam’s eyebrows pull together with unspoken concern before he addresses her. “Don’t flatter yourself. I don’t tell anyone about you if I can help it.”
The exposed skin on her chest and neck turn a splotchy red. Without a word, she turns and walks out.
I retake my seat beside Adam. He looks me over like he’s checking for injuries and then smiles. “Pizza?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll take you home before she makes you eat her rank manicotti.” He leans forward and puts pizza on our plates.
“What is it, though?” My curiosity has gotten the best of me.
“Cheese-stuffed noodles with sauce on it. It’s good if a normal person makes it, but Christine uses cottage cheese instead of ricotta. And like, a million garlic cloves. It’s a train wreck.” He takes a bite of his pizza.
I didn’t understand much of what he just said, but I take his word for it and bite into my own pizza. It’s delicious!
My eyes widen and I can’t help the grin that creeps across my face. Forget TV, how is everyone here not addicted to food?!
“Good?” he asks.
I nod vigorously and take another massive bite.
Adam pulls into Beth’s driveway. The sun is all the way down now. I unbuckle my seatbelt and reach for the door.
“I’ll walk you,” he says, unbuckling his own seatbelt.
He follows me up the front steps onto the porch. “I hope you had fun,” he says as we stand under the porch light.
“I did.” Visions of Avryn and Hayze kissing flash through my head. And then Adam’s admission that everyone here kisses like that echoes in my ears.
Down the street, a beat up white car rolls to a stop in front of a house, turning its headlights off.
“…again.”
I look up at Adam. “What?”
“I said we should definitely go out again. Maybe next time we can avoid my crazy ex and Christine.” He laughs.
“Are there more movies we could see?” I ask.
“Sure. Or we could do something else. You ever been downtown?”
Shaking my head, I say, “No. What’s downtown?”
He smiles cryptically. “You’ll see.” He takes my hands in his and leans forward. “I’ll text you if I don’t see you tomorrow.” And then, he presses his lips against my cheek.
He steps away, letting go of my hands. I’m speechless. He kissed me!
My grin is impossible to hide. I touch my cheek as the door swings open behind me.
“I thought I heard voices out here,” Beth says.
Adam backs toward the steps. “G’night Ms. Roberts.” He gives me that dangerous crooked grin before turning and taking off down the steps toward his car.
I watch him drive away. As he goes, my eyes settle on the beat up white car still parked down the street.
“Spill!” Holly bounces onto the porch, grabbing my arms. “Tell me everything!”
I let her pull me into the house, craning my neck to see the white car until Beth shuts the door.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
ALAINA
My stomach is in knots during the ride to visit with Mother.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Beth says.
I run my hands over my knees. The skirt I’m wearing is made of a clingy knit material. I’m hoping she doesn’t notice the way it hugs my hips. My more appropriate skirts are in the laundry basket waiting to be washed.
“Just thinking,” I say. Thinking about Adam, to be honest. Thinking about the days since our trip to the movie theater. The texts, the visits during my paper route, the kiss he gave me on the front porch that night.
He hasn’t kissed me since and I think that’s a good thing. I feel like I’m marked now. Like I’ll walk in to Ms. Jackson’s office and Mother will just know. She was suspicious last time, I think. But this time, as we make the final turn and pull into the parking lot, things are different.
When the elevator doors open, Ms. Jackson is already walking out of her office.
“Oh, good,” she says. “I was just on my way down to the conference room. Your mother is already there.”
Beth smiles and pats my arm
. “I’ll be right here.” She points to the waiting room.
Taking a deep breath, I follow Ms. Jackson to the conference room.
“Your hair looks very nice like that,” she says as we walk.
I touch my tamed waves. Jacki gave me some hair cream and showed me how to use it. At the time, it wasn’t a big deal. Now it seems like too much. Will Mother think it looks nice? Or will she see it as a sign that I’ve given in to the sinners?
When Ms. Jackson pushes the door open, my teeth are clacking together behind my closed lips. My hands shake and my palms sweat.
Mother is seated in a chair with her back to the door. Her spine is stiff, straight, and perfect. I straighten, realizing I’m slouching.
“I’ll just sit here.” Ms. Jackson waves me down to the other end of the table to sit with Mother.
With my eyes lowered, I take my seat and wait. Last time I spoke before her. I won’t make the same mistake twice.
“Stand up,” she orders.
My shoulders hunch, but I do as I’m told, wordlessly. Her eyes are on me, but I don’t dare look up.
“That skirt,” she says. “It’s inappropriate. I can see the outline of your thighs.” She says it in an even, conversational tone, but the meaning is clear; I’m in serious trouble. “Sit down.”
I drop into my chair, blinking back tears. Apologies form on the tip of my tongue, but I swallow them down.
“Do you have your bible?” she asks.
I glance up and meet her eye for the first time since I walked in. The rage is written in her clenched jaw and cold, hard stare.
“No, I’m sorry.” I barely get the words out around the lump in my throat.
She blinks hard and her lips pinch together. In Shiloh, I would have been slapped by now. “Fine. We’ll share mine. There are some scriptures I think you need to read.”
Exhaling softly, I nod. Scriptures. I can handle reading some scriptures.
Mother flips through her large, leather-bound bible, stopping in the New Testament. “First Corinthians five-eleven,” she says, pushing the bible across the table so I can see.
My eyes scan the words that I’ve read and recited a million times before as she reads aloud.
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