Say a Little Prayer(22)

I snort out a laugh and pull my prayer book from my waistband. Part of me is still waiting for the moment to sour, for this temporary win to curl in on itself like a charred scrap of paper and leave me with nothing to write about. Because sloth is supposed to be a sin. Because I’m avoiding our task, being lazy on purpose, but the only thing I feel is an overwhelming sense of relief.

Greer rolls her eyes in Delaney’s direction. “Whatever. Did you really want to spend your last week of camp doing manual labor?”

“Last week?” I pause, looking up at them both. “Are you a senior?”

I try to remember if Julia had mentioned that before. Surely she did. Surely Delaney said it during this morning’s introductions, but I don’t remember anything besides my own personal frustration with Greer’s choice of Bible verse.

“Yeah,” Delaney says. “Finally, right? Come visit me in Columbus next year.”

“Ohio State?”

She nods and Greer’s eyes light up. “Wait, really?” she asks. “I didn’t know you committed! Who are you living with?”

“No idea. My mom made me choose random roommates ‘for the experience’ so I told her she has to pay my therapy bills if they try to murder me in the night or something. Are you still thinking about rooming with Amanda?”

Greer shakes her head. “No, she’s doing the dance program at Indiana, but I met a few girls at orientation who seem nice.”

“You’re doing social work, right?” Delaney asks. “My sister would probably talk to you if you had any questions about the program. She really loved it.”

I can’t help it. I choke back a laugh. Greer has always been the smartest person in the room. I have no doubt she’ll excel in whatever program she picks, but the idea of her purposefully choosing one that’s supposed to help people is laughable. She’s done nothing but make Hannah’s life miserable since the new year, and I don’t think that kind of cruelty is something they train out of you in Columbus, Ohio.

I try to stifle the sound as Greer’s head whips toward me, but it’s too late. “What?” she snaps. “Do you think that’s funny?”

I shrug. “I mean, yeah. A little.”

“Why? It’s a good program. I worked hard.”

“I never said you didn’t.”

“Then what’s your problem?”

Gone is the easy smile and casual posture. Greer’s shoulders cut a stiff line in the sunlight leaking through the slats of the picnic table. Her jaw is set, a poisoned retort clearly waiting on the tip of her tongue, so before I can think better of it, I throw my hands up and say, “I don’t know, Greer. It’s just that you’re kind of a bitch.”

Delaney sucks a surprised breath through her teeth. I watch Greer’s cheeks flare a delicate shade of pink before her expression twists into something that feels suspiciously like disgust. “Whatever, Riley,” she mutters. “Takes one to know one, I guess.”

I round on her as best I can in the cramped space. “I’m not—”

“Do you know the name of anyone else in our group?”

One of Greer’s eyebrows quirks in an infuriating angle. I open my mouth to tell her, Yes, of course I do, but something stops me. I’d listened to the boys introduce themselves earlier. We just spent the morning in the woods together, but now that she brings it up, I realize I have no idea what their names are.

“Jack,” I decide, with more confidence than I feel.

“It’s Jace.”

“Okay, well, Jace is a dumb name. That’s not my fault.”

Greer’s answering laugh is entirely devoid of humor. “There you go,” she says. “You think you’re so much better than everyone because you left. I know you don’t believe in God anymore, but that doesn’t give you the right to hate everyone who stayed.”

“I don’t hate you because you still go to church, Greer,” I snap. “And I never said I don’t believe in God.”

“Oh?” Her gaze rakes across my face, and for a chilling second, I think she can see right through me. “Well, you could have fooled me.”

The air beneath the picnic table thickens. Delaney has gone quiet, twisting a chunk of grass around her finger as she waits for me to respond, but it’s like the words are physically stuck in my chest. I bite the inside of my cheek, nails digging into the dirt as Greer’s smile widens ever so slightly.

Got you, it says. Nice try.

There’s a rustle of fabric to our left. I tear my gaze away from Greer right as Gabe drops to his knees beside us, looking utterly defeated as he runs a hand through his newly tousled hair. “Okay,” he pants, completely oblivious to the tension under the table. “Is this really what you’re going with? Because I need to go drag the boys out of the river, so I really don’t have time to help you make something new.”

Greer folds her arms over her chest. “You should ask Riley,” she says. “She’s the one who knows everything.”

Gabe turns on me, expression half imploring, half expectant as my cheeks heat. I sigh and lean my head against the cool wood of the picnic table. “Yeah, Gabe. This is what we’re going with.”



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