Sinless

by Sarah Tarkoff

  “Why?” I wondered.

  “Because it means you’re hot. Because it means you’ll be hot your whole life, even after you get married. And it makes you different. Why do you think everyone likes Weird Prayer Mat Thomas?”

  “You hate Weird Prayer Mat Thomas!”

  “But he’s had two girlfriends. Devon’s way hotter, and he hasn’t had any.”

  We spent the next several minutes debating whether Weird Prayer Mat Thomas’s two girlfriends were really all that pretty, and whether Devon could have gotten them to go out with him if he’d asked, and Devon doesn’t ask anyone out so it isn’t really a fair comparison. We both agreed we’d go out with Devon if he asked us, but that maybe he was gay, because why else would he let all that go to waste?

  Finally, we turned to the much more important topic of Ciaran, and we again agreed that it was cool that he went to another school because it gave him an air of mystery, and I could avoid being the subject of gossip if it didn’t work out.

  “But what if I never see him again?” The thought had only now crossed my mind.

  “You know his dad, don’t you?”

  “I’m not going to ask his dad for his number. Plus, his dad’s leaving the center.”

  “So go back tomorrow. Maybe he’ll still be there.”

  But I was already despairing. “Why didn’t I get his number?”

  “Why didn’t he get your number, that’s the question. It’s not your job to get his number.” Macy couldn’t help but add, “Or you could always date his dad, right? You said he’s a hottie?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I love old dudes.”

  Of course, that was the moment Macy’s brother, Zack, chose to enter the room. Zack wasn’t really an old dude, but he was twenty-two, a full five years and a whole statutory rape Punishment older than me. I didn’t know Zack well—he was a real grown-up who worked in D.C. He only came home every once in a while for business and mostly kept to himself. I got the sense that there was a lot more to him than I saw—that as his little sister’s friend, I mattered so little that I didn’t get to witness the full Zack experience. Which, of course, only made me want to see it more. I don’t want to say that I had a crush on him . . . he was far too old for that. And if Macy was going to tease me for having a crush on Prayer Mat Thomas, it would have been the end of our friendship if I admitted to liking her brother.

  All that said . . . when he walked into the room and overheard me, I blushed.

  “Don’t mind me,” he said, grabbing a handful of celery sticks.

  “Hey! Make your own snacks,” Macy snapped.

  Zack smiled. “I’m a guest here now.”

  “So is Grace, and these snacks are for her.”

  Zack turned to me, and I stammered, “I’m staying out of this.”

  Macy said, “See, you’re making Grace uncomfortable.”

  “By taking celery sticks?”

  “Mom says you have to be nicer to me, buttloser.”

  “Mom says you’re going to get yourself Punished if you keep calling me buttloser.”

  “Great Spirit already knows you’re a buttloser.”

  “Great Spirit thinks I’m awesome.” Zack gestured to his face and body, and I had to admit, he had a point.

  “Great Spirit really loves your humility.”

  They continued their sibling rivalry into the kitchen. I rose to follow, but just as I approached the door, Zack turned so suddenly, I almost smacked into him. I blushed. Again. For some reason, I was very prone to blushing around Zack.

  “Macy’s making more snacks,” he said.

  “That’s nice of her.”

  “Not really. I gave her ten bucks. That’s the beauty of being a grown-up. You make money to pay servants.”

  “Oh.”

  “So who’s this guy?”

  Had he overheard our conversation? “What guy?”

  “Macy says you have the hots for some guy.”

  I played dumb. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “He’s got a girl’s name, right? Karen?”

  “Ciaran. I worked with his dad, at a care center.”

  “Ah.” It took Zack a moment to process that. “You shouldn’t date that kid.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  Zack didn’t come back with an easy answer. “His dad’s in a care center. That’s not good. That’s not the kind of guy you should date.”

  “He’s no sinner.”

  “You never know. Boys like that, they’re not always what they seem. Trust me—I’m older; I’ve seen it. Guys like that are trouble.”

  At this point, I was just annoyed. “You’ve never even met him.”

  “I don’t need to.”

  “Why do you care who I date?”

  “If you start dating him, you’ll introduce my sister to one of his friends. I don’t want to have to go beat up some hick future Outcast when he treats my sister badly, and then get Punished for it.”

  “You’ve thought this out.”

  Zack remained totally serious. “I like to think ahead. Nip the problem in the bud here and now.”

  “That’s very thoughtful of you.”

  “Big brother’s gotta do what a big brother’s gotta do.”

  Zack gave me one more pointed look as I sat processing what he’d just said. As frustrated as I was that Zack was trying to dictate my dating habits without professing any interest in dating me himself, I knew the chances I’d see Ciaran again were small. What did it matter anyway? Looking back, I can’t help but wish I’d taken Zack’s advice.

  Chapter 5

  I did take Macy’s suggestion to go back to the center, but Clint had already checked out. No one knew where to, though they’d heard not to Rowena’s house, which left the single volunteers some hope. I didn’t want to ask about Ciaran. Macy was right—if he hadn’t liked me enough to ask me out, that was that.

  Several uneventful weeks passed, and we found other things to talk about. Did Devon just look at Aiden in, like, a sexy way? Maybe they’re both gay and not acting on it because they fear Great Spirit’s wrath? Ugh, then there would be no cute guys in our school.

  There was, however, one moment worth mentioning. I know I said I would never have been friends with anyone who wasn’t pretty, and I wish I could say that was an exaggeration—I certainly was raised to be more tolerant and welcoming. My father, in his work with Outcasts, would often talk about how they were no different from him and me—a combination of circumstances or a bad choice could doom someone to a completely different path. My experience with Jude should have helped me to realize just how true that was—instead, I grew more and more wary of those whose faces hinted at a history of ungodly behavior.

  There weren’t many Outcasts at my school. There were many more in cities than suburbs like Tutelo, and most Outcast kids dropped out of school as soon as they could. But there was one girl, Ann, who had once been bright and beautiful and normal. I don’t know what her Punishment was for—Outcasts generally kept that to themselves—but sometime during sophomore year, after a long absence, she returned to school with a terrifying face that no one in my social circle would go near.

  She still did well in school, and she was applying to college—a rarity for Outcast teens. She was the only Outcast in my AP World History class, and she sat in the back, with her sickly, stringy hair and terrible breath, avoiding the rest of us. I was still morose about my missed opportunity with Ciaran, so when our teacher partnered me for a project with Ann, I didn’t take it well. Ann was nice enough during our planning session, as we talked about various multimedia options for relaying the biography of our assigned prophet, Japan’s Hashimoto. But when I got to gym class and had a moment alone with Macy, I couldn’t resist mocking the raspy way Ann spoke. “How stupid will we sound talking about Hashimoto?” I did a long, detailed impression of Ann’s “speech,” and it wasn’t until the bell rang and we walked out of the locker room that I noticed a small figure sitting alone
, one aisle over from where Macy and I had been talking. Ann, clearly within earshot, not even willing to look at me.

  A glance in the mirror told me I was getting a slight Punishment for my actions—a little asymmetry in my face, some thinning of my wild curls, but that wasn’t the end of it. Our teacher pulled me aside after class. “Ann says she needs to change teammates.”

  I explained, and apologized, but she wasn’t having it. “What about your friend Jude? Would you have said those things to him?”

  I thought it was low of her to bring up Jude. “No,” I said, “I wouldn’t have.”

  “Ann’s going to have it hard enough in life. Don’t go making it worse. You’re better than this. You’re one of the good ones.”

  One of the good ones. How little I’d done to deserve that praise. I did apologize to Ann, who gratefully accepted. All was Forgiven, for me at least, and we did our project together. Her raspy voice said plenty of intelligent things about Hashimoto, and for the next week I offered to let Ann sit at our lunch table. I hoped, perhaps, Great Spirit might reward me for my kindness to this Outcast girl. And then one day, He did.

  Every Sunday since that fateful care center meeting, I’d kept an eye out for Ciaran. I didn’t think he’d really drive an hour just to see me. But it was the one way he knew to find me, and in my most hopeful fantasies, I would turn around during my father’s sermon and see him sitting behind me, smiling that sexy half smile. But in real life, real Sunday after real Sunday, there was no sign of him. I started to feel stupid. What had really gone on between us? He’d asked me some questions about his dad. He’d winked at me, for fun, as he left. Nothing more.

  But then, as I walked up the steps of our worship center one chilly Sunday morning, I saw him. Sitting on a bench outside the front doors, wrapped up in a big woolen parka, eyes fixed on his phone. I couldn’t believe it.

  “Ciaran?” He glanced up. There was that dazzling smile.

  My father gave me a knowing look. “I’ll see you inside.” My father often gave sermons about the difficulties of raising children in the post-Revelation era, but in this one instance, I think he must have had it easier. One glance at Ciaran’s perfectly symmetrical bone structure and my father knew I’d found a trustworthy young man.

  As my dad disappeared into the church, I sat down next to Ciaran. “What are you doing here?” I asked him.

  “Thought I’d come see your dad in action.”

  “Ah,” I said, with my usual eloquence under pressure.

  “He’s related to you. He’s gotta be cool, for a cleric.” He put a hand on the small of my back, and an excited shiver went down my spine. “Shall we?”

  Chapter 6

  When the service was over, we wandered around the worship center grounds. I asked what school he went to, and he was evasive. “I’ve been to a couple.”

  “Because your family moved?”

  “Just ’cause.”

  “Where do you go now?”

  I still don’t know why he didn’t answer that question. Maybe he wanted to keep an air of mystery. Maybe he thought the truth would scare me off. In any case, he maneuvered the topic around to what he’d been trying to ask me all day. “What are you doing tomorrow night?”

  “Monday? A school night?”

  “You aren’t gonna spend the whole night studying, are you?”

  “But my father and I have game night on Mondays” sounded unbearably lame, so I didn’t say that. I said, “Of course not.”

  “Then come out with me.”

  “Where?”

  “Does it matter?”

  I tried to pretend like it did. “Of course.”

  “There’s something I want to show you.”

  “What?”

  He hesitated. “Eh, you’re not ready.”

  “Not ready for what?” He just smiled coyly. Let me spin for a minute. “What?” I begged.

  “It’s a secret.”

  “Now you have to tell me!”

  “It’s my secret,” he said.

  “That’s not an answer,” I pointed out. “What kind of secret is it? A bad secret?”

  “Of course it’s not a bad secret.”

  “Then why aren’t you telling me?”

  “You’re not ready.”

  I was getting frustrated. “What are you talking about? What do I have to do to be ready?” He looked me up and down, weighing his options.

  “Come out with me tomorrow night, and I’ll tell you.”

  I had no reason to say no. Great Spirit had made no commandments that teens couldn’t go out on school nights. Here was a good, pious young man, making a statement I could tell was true by looking at his unchanging face. My father would be overjoyed that after years of staying in my room in a Jude-related depression, I’d made plans with a new friend. But something held me back. Did I feel guilty about Jude? In retrospect, I can say for certain, not one iota. Was I afraid to fall for someone new, after such a traumatic loss? Maybe. Perhaps it was some kind of intuition I’d never needed to use before. All I know is, when Ciaran spoke, something in me wanted to flee, and I had no explanation for why. But of course, the only thing I was ever going to say was “Sure.”

  Ciaran smiled. He really did have an amazing smile.

  Chapter 7

  My father had exactly the reaction I’d anticipated. He knew how hard I had taken Jude’s death these past two years, so when I told him about the date with Ciaran, he said, “That’s wonderful! I have a meeting in D.C. that night, so I won’t be back until early in the morning. You’ll be okay letting yourself in?”

  Okay, now all of you who were teenagers pre-Revelation are freaking out. But that’s just how it was. We didn’t have strict guidelines or curfews because Great Spirit provided them for us. Parents could look at you and know you weren’t lying about your plans, and wherever you went, Great Spirit’s laws kept you safe from anyone who might want to harm you.

  So my father left for his meeting. My makeup was done, my outfit was stressed about. Macy had given her blessing to our union, as well as her word that she wouldn’t be waiting in the bushes, watching to see how hot he was.

  When Ciaran finally did arrive, I couldn’t believe how nervous I was. With Jude, I’d known him so long that we were already comfortable by the time I bothered to develop a crush. With Ciaran . . . this was the first real date I’d ever been on, and everything was unknown. The wrong word or gesture could scare him away.

  “So?” I asked before my feet had even crossed the threshold to leave the house.

  “So what?”

  “Secret, por favor?” I extended my hand, as though expecting him to pass it to me. He grinned, pleased I’d remembered.

  “Oh, you’ll find out. But first . . .” He took my hand and wrapped it around his arm, like we were an old-timey lady and gentleman. “We have quite a night ahead of us.”

  First on the itinerary was a movie. I was quite impressed when he led me in the side entrance. It turned out he had a cousin who owned the theater, and he was able to see movies for free, whenever he wanted, with whomever he wanted. So after two hours of your standard boy meets girl, boy encounters the forces of evil, boy glorifies Great Spirit and gets the girl story, we headed out in search of sustenance.

  “Do you want some ice cream or something?”

  I wanted to say yes, because it’s hard to say anything but yes to someone so cute, but even with thick tights, my much stressed about date dress was not appropriate for the chilly winds blowing around us. I blurted out, “In this weather?”

  He registered my shivering and made a second offer. “Do you want my coat?” Then, perhaps not wanting to be cold himself, he saw an open clothing store and said, “I have a better idea.” He whisked me inside and gestured to the store’s offerings. “Take your pick.”

  I looked in my purse, the tiny one I’d chosen for the occasion. “I didn’t bring enough money.”

  “My treat,” he dismissed. He picked up a black hoodie. �
��Do you like this?”

  “I couldn’t.”

  “Of course you could. Pick one out.” No boy had ever even bought me dinner before—a coat seemed extravagant. I had an inkling of what the price tags in this store might say. But if he was movie theater royalty . . .

  “This one.” He took the cute red jacket I handed him and glanced at the cashier, who was helping another customer. And then he put the jacket under his coat.

  It took me a moment to register what was happening. By the time I realized he was leaving without paying for it, like the rebellious teenagers in pre-Revelation movies, I was left with no choice but to trail after him like a confused, nervous puppy.

  “What are you doing?” I hissed as we stepped onto the sidewalk.

  “Keep walking.”

  I kept a steady clip behind him. “That was wrong. You have to go give it back, or—”

  “Or what?” It dawned on me that he remained unchanged. Face unblemished, muscles with their full vitality.

  I tried to make sense of it. “Great Spirit’s going to notice any minute. Go give that back.”

  “Great Spirit already did notice. He doesn’t care.”

  My tone became more urgent. “Yes, He does.”

  “Not about me. You wanted to know my secret, didn’t you? This is it. I’m special.”

  “Special how?”

  “I’m blessed by Great Spirit.” I looked at him. He didn’t seem any different from any of the other kids I knew.

  “How do you know?”

  “My whole life, when other kids disobeyed their parents and saw Great Spirit’s wrath? I never did. There’s nothing I can do that will make Great Spirit harm me.”

  He wrapped the new red jacket around my shoulders. I let him. “Is that better?”

  “I’m warmer.”

  “Don’t be scared, Grace.”

  “Why haven’t I heard about people like you before?”

  “You think your father’s gonna go up and tell everyone that no matter how hard they work, no matter what they do, Great Spirit will never love them like He loves me? That Great Spirit kills people like your friend, but I’ll always be Forgiven?”