When Curt closed his locker door, he turned toward Hannah. Their eyes met. He gave her a small smile. She’d wondered how he would react to her; after all, she had rebuffed his advances the night before. That couldn’t have done wonders for his ego. The shiner on his face wouldn’t help matters, either. Him giving her the cold shoulder seemed realistic. Apparently, however, he was prepared to be an adult about the entire situation.
After fourth period, Hannah found a more opportune moment to speak with him. She’d ducked into the girls’ bathroom down the hall, mainly to shake Jane. If Hannah’s friend saw her, Jane would wait to accompany her to their next class. Jane stood by Hannah’s locker and glanced around, searching for her. In another thirty seconds, she gave up and walked down the hallway. Curt seemed to be taking his sweet time to get to class. The bell rang and the hallways emptied. Soon, only Curt was left in the hallway. That’s when Hannah made her move.
“Hi,” she said, keeping her voice low even though no one else was in their vicinity.
Curt jerked his head toward her. “Hi.”
She stopped a foot away from him, clutching her books in her arms. “I’m sorry about last night.”
“About which part of it?” he asked.
She leaned in closer. “The part where you wanted to kiss me. I didn’t mean to make it awkward.”
He shrugged. “I suppose I’m to blame for that. I’m the one who brought it up. Anyway, it was your choice. I didn’t want you to do it if you didn’t really want to.”
Her eyes darted up and down the hallway. “I’ve never kissed anyone.” Hannah’s voice had become a whisper.
“Oh. Okay.” Curt closed his locker door and stared at the green metal thoughtfully. “Well, that’s your choice, too. Were you looking to change that fact?” he asked, his eyes sparkling with a willingness to alter that status.
“No. That’s the thing. I’m waiting until I get married.”
He raised an eyebrow. “To kiss someone?”
She nodded, then looked at the ground. “You probably think that’s stupid.”
“Why do you keep saying that? Who cares what I or anyone else thinks? It’s your life. I mean, from my point of view, it seems a little unrealistic. That’s a long time to wait. Seems like you’ll miss out on some good stuff between now and then.”
Hannah had done the math on the potential sacrifice before. Many people from her branch of the church married while in college, some seemingly because they wanted to start having sex. Hannah had never wanted to fall into that same trap, which meant she probably had another four years to go before locking lips with someone.
“Why are you waiting to kiss someone?” he asked, his voice more neutral than critical.
“I want it to be special. So that the first kiss I ever have is with my husband at my wedding. I just think if I kiss more than one person, the wedding day won’t be as memorable or special.”
“Yeah, I guess. But it seems like kissing your spouse at the wedding would be pretty memorable anyway, right?”
She blushed. “Like what if I had kissed you last night, and it was better than everyone else, and I was just kind of disappointed the rest of my life.”
“Well, that would have been the likely outcome if we kissed,” he said with an affected bravado before breaking into a giant grin. “I’m just kidding. I don’t know. Seems like you’d have to work at it a bit, maybe. Learn what the other person likes or doesn’t like. Anyway, I think that’s just a very human perspective to have. Even if you never kissed anyone else, you might find yourself thinking back to a moment and wondering what would have happened if you did something differently. Or even fantasizing about someone you’ve never been with.”
Hannah sucked in her cheek and glanced down the hallway. She was now severely late to her study hall.
“I should go,” she said, her body moving away from him.
Curt reached out and grabbed her free hand. “If I kissed you last night, I would’ve remembered it forever. I think I’ll remember that moment, anyway, even though we didn’t kiss.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Hannah said, her voice still barely rising above a whisper. She didn’t want a long list of abbreviated or aborted romances cluttering up her relationship history.
He smiled. “My group has a meeting after school today; would you be interested in joining us?”
“The atheist club?”
Curt shook his head. “Secular Student Alliance, actually. You don’t have to be an atheist to come. I promise no one will punch you in the face, either.”
She turned red at the mention of his ill-treatment at youth group. “Uh, yeah, okay.”
He released her hand. She’d almost forgotten that their hands had been joined for the last minute of conversation.
“See you later,” he said.
Hannah glanced back once more before stumbling away. His words had gotten to her. She imagined the night before and what it would have felt like to kiss him. How their lips might have lingered together. How the outside world would have been drowned out by the thumping of her heart. Did she actually want that? Was that really the reason she rushed to school that morning? Hannah shook off those questions. She was stronger than that.
19
Enemy Turf
Curt waited in front of room 167 for Hannah to show. It was better if he met her outside. Though Curt had promised no one would punch her in the face, he wasn’t sure how his peers from the SSA would react to her, especially if she wandered into the meeting alone.
Hannah finally arrived a few minutes before the meeting began. Her arms were folded and she wore a cordial but anxious smile.
“Hey, you made it,” Curt said.
She nodded. “What do you guys do in your meetings?” Hannah stopped a meter from the door and tapped her foot against the beigish floor tile.
“We discuss topics that touch on reason, science, and skepticism, plus advocacy for LGBTQ folks and church-state separation,” he replied, realizing that all of these aims would be bemoaned in Hannah’s church, sure signs of the looming apocalypse.
Hannah didn’t respond. In retrospect, it might have been a mistake to invite her. The SSA was a small, tight-knit group. Some of their frequent topics involved collisions between church and state, and lately that had a lot to do with Hannah’s church. Reverend Wilson had become somewhat of a target during these discussions. The language directed against him and his flock wasn’t always measured or kind.
Nevertheless, Curt gestured toward the door. “Why don’t we go in. The meeting is about to start.”
Hannah followed Curt’s lead and walked through the open door. The ten to fifteen people already gathered and seated in a circle around the room greeted Curt first. Once they saw who followed, their smiles faded or twisted in confusion. The scene was a role reversal from the previous night when Curt stumbled into the church youth group.
Kate, in particular, stared at their visitor. Curt couldn’t recall any direct history the two shared. Kate had never mentioned anything specific about Hannah. He met his friend’s eyes, silently pleading for Kate to play nice and make Hannah feel welcome.
“Oh, it looks like we have a guest,” Kate said, her smile creased a little wider than normal.
“Hi,” Hannah said, giving a small wave to the room.
Curt introduced her to people, especially the ones she was less likely to know. Most people greeted her politely. Except for Greg. Greg was always a wildcard. He mainly just stared at her. Not glowering exactly, but like he was contemplating some kind of attack against her.
“Hey, Hannah.” Greg put out his right hand toward her. “I’d like to extend the right hand of fellowship to you. Isn’t that what they call it in churches?”
Like Justin, Greg had become an atheist as a result of attending church throughout his youth. Consequently, he never bothered to conceal his scorn for organized religion or its adherents.
“I don’t know,” Hannah said, “I don’t think
I’ve ever heard the term.”
“Hmm, that’s funny. Isn’t that what they gave you Wednesday night, Curt, the right hand of fellowship?” Greg mimed a punch into his own jaw. “More like the right jab of fellowship or right hook, am I right?”
Tom chuckled at Greg’s joke. The rest of the group remained quiet. Curt shot Greg a dirty look, hoping that would curtail any more attempts at humor. At least Tom seemed to catch Curt’s displeasure at the remark, as his smile faded.
“Why don’t we get started,” Kate said, taking a seat in one of the chairs that circled around the room. She and Curt usually led the meetings. Indeed, they were the two people who had founded the group toward the end of their sophomore year.
“Okay, the first item on the agenda is that next week starts Pride month,” Kate said.
A few people in the group let out soft cheers. Kate wasn’t the only gay member of the group.
“Isn’t the Gay-Straight Alliance working on that?” Greg asked, looking at his fingernails.
There was some overlap between the two groups—including Curt and Kate—but the two groups were definitely separate entities. People like Greg enjoyed theological and scientific debate more than they did advocating for LGBTQ rights.
“Yes, but I was thinking that maybe we could do a display on how religious groups have harmed LGBTQ people over the years.” Kate eyed Hannah, who squirmed in her seat. “Maybe include a display of which churches in the area are actually LGBTQ friendly.”
“You want us to encourage people to go to church?” Tom asked. “Isn’t that kind of opposite of what we usually do?”
“No. We’d just be helping gay people see that if they want to still be Christians, there are options for them,” Kate said.
Kate wasn’t a hardened atheist. However, due to the rough treatment she’d received from religious people over the years, she tended to stay away from organized religion herself.
“Maybe we should ask Hannah what her church is doing to oppose pride month,” Greg suggested, watching their visitor.
“Okay, Kate’s idea sounds good,” Curt said, steering the conversation away from Hannah, who had inched down in her seat after Greg’s comment. “Who wants to help Kate?”
A few people raised their hands. With that matter now settled, Curt prepared to move the conversation forward. But Greg interrupted him.
“I have a question for our visitor,” he said, raising his hand. “Are you waiting for marriage to get it on, Hannah? Do you have a purity ring?”
“That’s not appropriate,” Curt said.
“I don’t have a purity ring,” Hannah said, struggling to hide how discussing sex embarrassed her.
Greg ignored Curt’s warning. “Or maybe ole Curt here already took your purity. You sly dog, you. I should’ve known you’d conquer her.”
“Greg, shut up. None of that’s true,” Curt shot back as the rest of the room descended into an awkward silence.
Greg scrunched his mouth together and raised his chin. “No? Hmm. Well, I don’t know. Sometimes these religious people are so sexually repressed that they get all kinds of freaky. Like her dad.”
Hannah tensed up at the mention of her father. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said.
“Didn’t you know? My mom works for the town, and she got this weird email about the good reverend’s browser history. Seems like he’s got a thing for lesbian porn.”
“Greg, knock it off!” Curt raised his voice to no avail.
“No, that’s not true,” Hannah spat out, finding her voice. “My father would never do that.”
“I actually have the email right here.” He took out his phone and swiped his finger across the screen. “Should I start reading the names of the videos?”
Curt jumped up and slapped the phone out of Greg’s hands, causing it to clatter against the floor. “What the hell is your problem, Greg?”
Hannah lunged to her feet and dashed out of the room.
“Oh well,” Greg shrugged. “At least no one punched her in the face, right?”
For a moment, Curt was torn between going after Hannah and confronting Greg. He settled for a perfunctory, “You’re an asshole, Greg,” and then ran out of the room after Hannah.
The hallway was empty by the time he reached it. With a modest headstart, Hannah had successfully escaped. Curt cycled back to their locker area, but she wasn’t there. Perhaps she had gone home. After an unsuccessful search of the first floor, he went outside. A hunch led him to the field behind the school, where Hannah played softball. That might have been a safe space for her. But she wasn’t there, either.
Defeated, Curt went back into school to gather his things and headed home.
Later that night, Curt called Kate.
“Hey, what’s up? You never came back to the meeting after Hannah left,” she said.
“Yeah, because I was pissed at the way people treated Hannah,” Curt replied. He hadn’t called to reprimand Kate but got sucked into that conversation, anyway.
“You know Greg. He does shit like that sometimes,” Kate said as if nothing of consequence had transpired.
“Greg is whatever. Why didn’t you jump in and try to shut him down?”
After reflecting on the incident in room 167, Curt was most surprised by Kate’s behavior. He’d seen her go after Greg in the past if she thought he crossed a line. Her silence as he harassed Hannah was glaring.
“Me? He doesn’t listen to me. Besides, you were already trying to get him to shut up.”
“If Hannah had been any other girl, you wouldn’t have stood for it. I mean, he asked whether she was a virgin or not. That’s totally inappropriate.”
“Well, forgive me if I didn’t jump in to defend her. But does she defend me, when her father talks shit about gay people? I don’t think so.”
“That shouldn’t matter. When someone comes to our meetings, we need to make sure they’re treated with respect, no matter who they are.”
Even if the SSA wasn’t evangelistic like Christian groups, they still professed to want their ranks to grow. But people wouldn’t stick around if SSA members insulted them.
“Anyway, I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Do you think you could call one of your friends from the softball team and get Hannah’s number?”
“Curt, what is going on between you and her?” she asked, the charge in her voice indicating disapproval.
“I just want to say I’m sorry for how she was treated and to make sure she’s okay.”
She exhaled. “Look, I get your fascination with her. Truth be known, I used to have a crush on Hannah, too. She’s really pretty. And when she smiles at you, you feel like you’re the most important person in the world. But I got over her. And do you know why? It wasn’t just because she didn’t have a gay bone in her body. It was because I realized she would prefer I didn’t exist.”
“She’s not like the rest of them, Kate. She’s different.”
“You’re right. She is different. Maybe she’s worse. Maybe it would be better if she was like her father and brother, shouting about how sinful it is to be gay and how we’re in danger of receiving the judgment of God. Maybe it would be better if she was like Westboro Baptist Church and held up signs saying ‘God hates fags’. Because then there would be no confusion about where she stands. We would all know.”
“This is all she’s ever known, Kate,” Curt argued, unsure why Hannah’s honor mattered so much to him. A week ago, he would have agreed with everything Kate was saying. “How would you see the world if you grew up in her family going to that church? But if she gets to know people like you and me, we could change her mind.”
“Yeah, well, maybe I shouldn’t have to play gay ambassador for her to recognize my humanity. Maybe she should just be able to do that, even if she doesn’t know any gay people personally.”
That was often a sticking point for Kate, who wondered why she had to work so hard for people to acknowledge she was a human being like the
m. In her mind, that kind of dignity should have been automatic.
“Can you just get me her number?” Curt asked, waving the white flag on their mini-debate. Kate had some valid points that he couldn’t see how to refute.
“Fine.”
Kate hung up abruptly. Curt sighed. Less than thirty minutes later, Kate sent a text containing Hannah’s number, nothing more. He’d smooth things over with Kate later. For now, he owed Hannah a phone call.
She picked up after three rings. “Hello?”
“Hey, Hannah, this is Curt.”
“Oh, hi.” Her voice sounded tentative but not angry.
“I’m sorry about what happened at the meeting today,” he said softly. “Greg was way out of line. And even though most people at the meeting didn’t speak out against him, I think they thought so, too.”
When she spoke next, Hannah’s voice was rigid. “My father wouldn’t do what Greg accused him of. He’s a good man.”
Curt exhaled. His opinion of Caleb Wilson had never been high. But it had little to do with whether the reverend viewed porn or not.
“Watching porn wouldn’t make him a bad man,” Curt said. He meant this to be helpful because defining a person based on the level of his or her sex drive seemed silly.
Hannah met his comment with silence. Consequently, Curt backed off from that rhetorical strategy.
“But you’re right to question it. You should never blindly believe an anonymous email. Especially when it flies in the face of what you know about a person.”
Once again, Hannah didn’t reply.
“And for the record, I’m not the kind of guy Greg suggested, either. I would never look at you—or any other woman—as some kind of conquest. Greg knows I’m not like that, either. I don’t know what got into him today.”
Across the Western Sky Page 10
