Having all this quiet time with few chores to do gave her too much time to obsess over the night before. At the time, she had been fine with Christina’s curt yet polite rejection. I don’t know why she’d be impolite. Obviously, the daughters of queer women can be as homophobic as kids raised by straight people, but nobody’s given me the impression that she’s a jerk. Christina drummed her fingers on the counter and thought about realigning one of the posters in the west-facing window. A bright ray of sunshine came through it now, though, and it might not be worth the blinding trouble.
Maybe it wasn’t Christina’s rejection that hurt her the most. Maybe it was the reminder that she was an outsider in this town. She was Bama. People kept telling her that kids around there loved having new people in their school, but Carrie had yet to feel it. When they weren’t ignoring her, they were whispering about why she had to repeat senior year across the country. Oh, yeah, word got out. She didn’t think it was Leigh-Ann that did it. For some blasted reason, the school had a display set up for that year’s seniors, showcasing selfies taken with a school camera and a few printouts about them. This included their birthdates. Not only their birthdays, but their birthdates. Once people realized Carrie was born in the year 2000, the whispers erupted. Some came right up to her and asked, “Are you really nineteen? Why the hell are you still in school?” Carrie’s favorite was the sophomore who implied she had never seen a nineteen-year-old girl in high school. Was she stupid or something? That was usually reserved for gross dudes!
But her favorite… her absolute favorite… was the rumor going around that she had gotten pregnant back in Alabama. Apparently, Alabama still lived in the Dark Ages and required pregnant high school girls to dropout and repeat senior year.
Carrie supposed what gave her the most anxiety was fretting over what Christina might say to her friends. She was one of the popular girls, after all. The mayor’s daughter! God, what was I thinking, trying to get with the mayor’s baby? Christina had made it pretty clear she wasn’t into girls. How many hit on her? Was it verboten for the new lesbian in town to put the moves on her? Carrie was the last to find out that she was straight – damnit, Leigh-Ann was right, after all – so she probably hadn’t been hit on in a while. Would Christina go back to school Monday and tell everyone about what happened?
Carrie needed to decide how much of a “high school experience” she really wanted to have. She had gone into Clark High with the intent of getting her diploma and nothing else. She already knew what homecomings and proms were like. When was homecoming, anyway? Wait, Clark High didn’t have a football team…
Five minutes before she was allowed to take her break – and then the Saturday evening rush supposedly began – a familiar silhouette appeared in the door.
“Oh, hey,” Carrie greeted, as Leigh-Ann strolled into the parlor. “Your family order something? Because we don’t have anything in the pipeline. Or are you ordering now?”
Leigh-Ann stopped before the register. She didn’t look like she was about to order a large pepperoni with extra cheese. “Thought I’d come and check to see how you’re doing. I heard last night’s party was a real banger.”
Banger? Carrie refrained from snorting. “It was rowdy, but pretty harmless. The best part was finding my cousin there.” True to her word, Carrie had said nothing to her aunt and uncle. She still had yet to see Dillon before she had to go to work, but as long as his parents weren’t asking questions, she wasn’t offering information. He had said something about staying with a friend that weekend, right? I wonder if they’re actually hanging out, or if it’s a cover for something else. Carrie wouldn’t put it past him. She also didn’t care.
“Oh. I heard it was busted by the cops.”
“I guess you can call it that. I wanna say it was the most Southern thing I’ve seen since I got here, but not only would that be a lie, it doesn’t take into consideration that officer was gay as hell and about to whoop everyone’s butts.”
“Yeah, she’s mostly talk, though. My dad’s good friends with her. I think they went to school together.” Leigh-Ann still fidgeted with her hands and avoided eye contact. The sleeves of her sweatshirt fell over her hands when she realized she was twiddling those fingers like she had too much coffee. “Did you hear about the barn fire afterward?”
Since this was looking to be an extensive conversation with someone not a customer, Carrie popped into the kitchen and said she was taking her ten minute break. She dug her drink out of her locker and offered Leigh-Ann a snack of Ritz crackers as they sat at one of the empty bistro tables overlooking the emptier parking lot.
“Yeah, I heard about some fire.” Carrie took off her hat and slapped it against the table. Leigh-Ann turned down a share of crackers. I put some peanut butter on them. Come on, some real protein goodness here! God knew she need it to get through her shift. “Are they a problem around here or something? People were making a real fuss about it.”
“It’s like the fifth one this summer, I think. They started back in July, I wanna say.” Leigh-Ann didn’t want any crackers, but she accepted a sip of water. “People think it’s an arsonist. When people wanna blame an arsonist, they point their fingers at people like us.”
“People like us?”
“Teens,” Leigh-Ann brusquely said.
“Trouble making teens, no less.”
“You gotta understand... lots of kids at school hold it tradition to go making out in abandoned barns. If you’re not having a little nookie up on Wolf’s Hill, you’re doing it in some old farmer’s barn he doesn’t use for anything but straw anymore. The first fire was explained away as an accident. Then people started wondering if they were insurance grabs. Now everyone’s focused on someone from school doing it. You see what I’m gettin’ at?”
“Yeah. I’m seeing it.” Carrie abandoned her peanut butter crackers in favor of taking a swig of her water. She didn’t think about the fact she and Leigh-Ann shared germs for the first time. “Who’s the first person everyone blames? The outsider. Never mind if the first fire started in July, it couldn’t have been me, because I was still driving across the country.”
“People don’t care about the facts,” Leigh-Ann said with a sigh. “Especially if they can conveniently get themselves off the hook.”
“I hope you don’t think I have anything to do with it. Why in the world would I want to burn down somebody’s poor barn?”
“Dunno. If it really is someone from school doing it, then it’s probably because they’ve got some problem. Like… they gotta light fires, you know?”
Yeah. Carrie knew. She knew so well that a face instantly popped in her view. Nah… he’s stupid, but he ain’t that stupid, right? Besides, Dillon had been at the party the night before. Carrie had seen him with her own eyes. There’s no way he had time to light a barn on fire and hoof it over to the party to put in an appearance.
“You say kids go to these barns to make out?”
“Make out, have sex, do some drugs and drink… normal stuff. Ain’t much shelter around here to run to in the rainy seasons, so barns do.” Leigh-Ann softly chuckled. “They say if a girl at school gets pregnant, it was probably made in a barn. Gross, right?”
“I can’t say I’m much in the way of making babies, myself.”
The smile fell off Leigh-Ann’s face. “Right. Girls go and fool around there, too. Biggest barn scandal since freshman year was Billy Willis and Adam Johnson getting caught doing all sorts of stuff. Oh, you don’t know them. They graduated a couple years ago, but I hear that they went to Portland State together. Even if girl on girl doesn’t raise an eyebrow at school, two guys doing it does.”
“Still a huge step up from what I’m used to. Where I’m from, looking at a girl wrong might get you kicked out.”
Leigh-Ann tilted her head to one quizzical side. “Is that why you got expelled from your old school?”
Oh, she walked right into that one. Before Leigh-Ann could get the wrong – or right, honestly – idea,
Carrie said, “Look at the wrong girl the wrong way, I should say. Depending where you are and who your folks are, they don’t care as much about that anymore. Get some spiel about Jesus and making your grandmother have a heart attack, but I know a few out girls in the area I’m from. Guys, though… ah, it’s another story.”
“I bet.”
Carrie had another thought. “You said kids go making out on that hill, too, right?” She shot Leigh-Ann a diabolical look. Not quite flirtatious. Maybe enough. “Yet that was the first place you invited me to go with you a couple week ago. Hm, Leigh-Ann? What’s up with that?
She was pretty when she blushed, wasn’t she? Not the first time I’ve had that thought… Leigh-Ann had the right number of freckles that blushing connected them together in an intricate constellation. Her skin had a healthy sheen of sweat, too, that implied she wasn’t afraid to go out and get a little exercise. Must not be if she’s asking about climbing hills. Leigh-Ann’s bike leaned against the building. It might have been mid-September in an area known for its cooler temperatures, but biking in jeans and a sweatshirt would give a girl a certain glow.
Am I really checking her out right now? Of all the times… Like Christina, Leigh-Ann had made her sexual affiliation clear. Paradise Valley may have touted itself as a lesbian haven, but Carrie had yet to score any luck on that front. Maybe it was the school. Do I want to date anyone from that school, anyway? Leigh-Ann was the only one worthy so far. All the good it did Carrie.
“Like I said, there ain’t much to do around here.” Leigh-Ann cast her eyes down to the table. “I wasn’t gonna take you up the hill to make out with you!”
“Too bad, huh?” Carrie winked at her. “You’re over eighteen.”
“Ew.” Ah, there was the scoff Carrie was looking for. The only time Leigh-Ann was cuter was when she ate her school sandwiches with so much gusto that lettuce fell out of her mouth. It’s cute, all right? “Besides, I wasn’t gonna invite you again. Starting to get colder and a bit rainier. Not a great place to go if you wanna smoke.”
“There was so much pot at that party last night I think I might still have a contact high.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
“You think we didn’t have pot in Alabama?”
“I think you didn’t have legalized pot…”
She had Carrie there. “So, where are you inviting me now? A barn?”
“I’m not inviting you nowhere if you keep talking like that.”
“You know I don’t mean anything by it.” Carrie jerked her head toward the clock hanging on the wall. “I’ve gotta get back to work soon, and I need to pee before the rush starts. You gonna be around later?”
Leigh-Ann looked like she didn’t want to answer that. “What time do you get off work?”
“Nine.”
“Oh. That’s a bit late. I have to be up early tomorrow for church.”
“Church!” Carrie slapped her hand against her heart. “Church? Lee-Ann Hardy,” yes, she accidentally said the wrong name, but that’s what happened when the full accent came out, “you telling me you’re a good Christian girl cavorting with a trashy heathen like me?”
That attracted the attention of the two coworkers in the back, both of whom snickered at Carrie’s judicious use of her Southern accent. Unfortunately for Leigh-Ann, she probably thought they were judging her for going to church. “My parents go, okay?” she whispered across the table. “Sometimes I go with them because it ain’t so bad! Not like I’m a ragin’ evangelical or something!”
Carrie burst into laughter that had her gripping her side and wondering if she would ever breathe again. “Relax, hon! I don’t care if you’re a Mormon or a JW or whatever.”
“We’re Methodist!”
“Same difference depending where you’re from.”
“Not around here…”
Carrie had yet to learn the finer differences between denominations in this part of the world, but she knew one thing – she had made Leigh-Ann slightly uncomfortable, and it was imperative they smooth things over before seeing each other again at school on Monday.
“I’m sorry.” Carrie forced the laughter out of her system. “Didn’t mean to twist you up like that. Guess I’m surprised anyone goes to church in a place like this.”
“If it makes you feel any better, they all at least pretend to be super progressive and for the gays or whatever.”
“Sign me up for Jesus, then!”
The assistant manager popped out of his office in time to hear that. It definitely got an eyebrow raise out of her. Carrie sheepishly apologized for her outburst and thanked her stars that there weren’t any customers in the pizza parlor when she said that.
Leigh-Ann slipped out of her chair and opened the door. “I’ll see you around, Carrie,” she said, face still turned away, “text me if something comes up, huh?”
Carrie had no idea what that meant. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
Chapter 10
LEIGH-ANN
Leigh-Ann didn’t often volunteer at Waterlily House the same days she went to church, since Sunny insisted that she “have a proper teenaged life,” whatever that meant. Did they think that because she wasn’t paid to help out, she didn’t want to do it? Sure beat lazing around the house, bored out of her mind. Even if Leigh-Ann wasn’t scheduled to work, she sometimes rode her bike out to the house for the sole purpose of getting some exercise.
Too bad Carrie had been too busy to hang out with her. When Leigh-Ann texted her the night before to see what she was doing Sunday afternoon, she got a reply comprised of nothing but pizza emojis.
What was the point of them being friends if they couldn’t hang out after school? Was it really too much for Leigh-Ann to ask for someone to see on a personal basis again?
Times like these made her miss the “good ol’ days,” back when she had supposed friends to hang out with and talk to on the phone. These days, almost everyone texted. But there had been that blissful time in middle school when she, Christina, Amanda, and maybe a couple others were all on the line together. That almost never happened now.
Thinking about Carrie made her miss a lot of things. Things Leigh-Ann wasn’t sure she really wanted to think about as she sat through a sermon about sinning in the eyes of the Lord. Her father fell into a respectful doze while her mother slyly texted a friend. The only people paying attention to church were those in the first three rows of pews.
Sinning, huh? Leigh-Ann never put much stock in this whole religion thing, but sometimes the talk about sinning and repenting made her think about her life so far – and the lives of those she knew. Whoever is responsible for the barn fires is definitely going to hell if they don’t repent. They killed a cow. There weren’t enough jokes about steaks and jerky in the world to make up for the loss of the Gladsbury’s milk cow. The church had a donation jar at the entrance to go toward the purchase of a new cow, but most folks around there knew how much like family those animals were to the folks depending upon them for daily life. “We will always miss Holly the happy cow,” the message on the print-out said, “but we shall move forward with a new soul, the Grace of God looking over us.”
“That poor cow,” Leigh-Ann’s mother had said when they first entered the church. “It’s not right for bad eggs to make light of God’s creations.”
You know who else is going to hell? Leigh-Ann’s eyes darted between the hymn book and the Bible slotted in the seat before hers. Me. Probably.
She didn’t know why she was going to hell. Nor did she know why she cared, since she was agnostic at best, probably an atheist at “worst,” but that was the thing about growing up in a place like that. You hear enough about hell, you start to see it in your nightmares.
Like many of the other churches in the area, the Hardys’ stayed either mum about the LGBT congregation or openly welcomed them. There were a few familiar faces there in the Methodist church. Faces that were unrepentantly gay in how they brought their small families and asked to get m
arried by the pastor. But Leigh-Ann always wondered how genuine the acceptance was. Two towns over, a church of unnamed denomination put up signs declaring the houses of worship in Paradise Valley verboten and their congregations damned for all eternity. Nobody took any stock in it beyond taking a few pictures and sharing them around for a giggle, but occasionally, Leigh-Ann rolled over in her bed at night and wondered if they were right. Not because she agreed with them, but because she was still at the uncertain age when she wondered a lot of upsetting things.
“Where you heading, honey?” Mrs. Hardy asked after service was over and the three of them shuffled toward the car. “You look like you’ve got places to go.”
“Think I’ll round by the B&B and see if they’ve got anything for me to do.”
“Are you supposed to work today?”
“No, but it beats aimlessly riding my bike around town.”
Mrs. Hardy unlocked the family car. “It’s such a shame you don’t have those friends anymore. Whatever happened between you and Christina? Seems like yesterday you guys were playing by the creek behind the park. Now I hardly see her around anymore.”
“Christina and I haven’t been friends in forever. Not since I was a sophomore.”
“Riiiight.” They waited for Mr. Hardy to return from the donation jar before getting into the car. “Two years. Practically an eternity.”
Leigh-Ann didn’t see what this had to do with anything.
She grabbed her bike as soon as they were home. The ride to Waterlily House wasn’t as pleasant as she anticipated, since her heart beat with ferocity and the moisture left her throat. Was that what hellfire did to a girl’s body? Suck all the water from her frame until she couldn’t breathe anymore?
She still hadn’t figured out what was wrong with her when she arrived at Waterlily House. Although she expected to see Sunny milling about the place, she instead got an eyeful of one of the last people she wanted to see.
“Hello, Leigh-Ann.” Ms. Tichenor looked up from the afghan she patched on the porch. Her nimble fingers were accompanied with squared reading glasses that must have helped her stitch with ease. Leigh-Ann still had twenty-twenty vision, according to the eye doctor, so she couldn’t relate to that. “Were you supposed to come by? Sunny didn’t say anything about it.”
September Lessons (A Year in Paradise Book 9) Page 7
