Say a Little Prayer(23)
We lose the competition so spectacularly I’m surprised Gabe doesn’t quit on the spot. To be fair, the other groups aren’t much better. By the time the judges declare a tentative winner and we all break for lunch, the most anyone’s managed to create is a haphazard pile of foliage and a newfound hatred for the word diligence.
The sun has parked itself directly overhead as we climb out from under the table, baking the soft dirt of the clearing into dust. Greer emerges from our makeshift shelter without so much as a speck on her white top, but I take my time brushing off my legs. Her words still echo in the back of my mind, hanging off my shoulders like a razor-clawed shadow.
You think you’re so much better than everyone because you left.
I wish I could deny it. I wish I could tell her she’s wrong.
“You coming to lunch?”
Delaney watches me from the top of the hill, one hand raised to block the sun. I glance over my shoulder and realize the rest of our group has already left, heading toward the cafeteria with the other campers. I haven’t eaten all day, but I don’t think the hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach is entirely due to hunger.
“You go ahead,” I say. “I want to change first.”
I gesture down at my dirty shorts, and Delaney cracks a smile. “I’ll save you a seat.”
I watch the back of her head until she disappears down the hill, pink bandana fluttering in the breeze. Then I turn in the opposite direction and start walking toward the cabins instead. I do want to change my clothes. I’m not lying about that, but I also need a minute alone, somewhere I don’t have to force a smile and pretend Greer didn’t unintentionally crack the armor I’d spent the last year reinforcing.
I thumb through my prayer book as I walk. The only reason I’d crawled under that table in the first place was to prove my point. And I had. For a brief second, Delaney, Greer, and I had sat in the shade and taken a single collective breath. I hadn’t thought about my essay or the days ahead or the way my chest tightened at the thought of Julia’s hand in mine. It was the opposite of diligence. According to Pastor Young, taking a break like that should be unforgivable, but we were fine. It felt good, actually, until Greer started coming after me.
Or maybe I’d gone after her. I don’t really remember who started it.
I’m so focused that I don’t notice the other person heading toward me until it’s too late. I slam directly into their shoulder and my prayer book tumbles to the ground.
“Sorry!” I drop to my knees, snapping the book shut before anyone else can see my hastily scribbled notes. “Sorry, I wasn’t—”
I look up, and the rest of my apology dies in my throat. Pastor Young stands a few feet away, absentmindedly rubbing his shoulder as he grins down at me. “Where are you going in such a hurry?”
He’s changed into one of the blue counselor T-shirts, the same thing he sometimes wears to mow his lawn back home. That’s the strangest thing about this whole situation, I think. The fact that I’ve known the Youngs almost as long as I can remember. That I know him. I know Pastor Young is an excellent cook, that he used to run marathons until he dislocated his knee a few years ago, and that he throws a killer Fourth of July party. I know he spends his Saturdays golfing in Dayton, that he’s allergic to dogs, and I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that he’d personally throw me into the fiery pits of hell if he knew how much I think about kissing girls.
I scramble to my feet and tuck my prayer book casually behind my back. “Sorry,” I say again. “I was just going to change before lunch.”
Pastor Young’s smile is still infuriatingly warm. “Of course. It’s hot out today, isn’t it?”
“Sure is.”
I try to step around him, but he shifts to the side, subtly blocking my path. “I’m glad we ran into each other,” he says. “I’ve actually been meaning to talk to you.”
Several dozen alarm bells explode inside my head at once. “About what?”
“Don’t look at me like that.” Pastor Young waves a hand, but the dismissive gesture does nothing to steady the sudden thrum of my pulse. “You’re not in trouble. I just wanted to check in. You’ve been away from us for a while, and I know the circumstances of this trip are…less than ideal. But I really do think you’re going to learn a lot.”
His smile doesn’t waver. It’s the picture-perfect portrait of concern, but my fingers tighten instinctively around my prayer book. Of course Mr. Rider told him about our deal. Of course Pastor Young knows I’m not here of my own free will. He gets community service kids from the high school all the time—he’s probably supposed to report on my progress or something.
I force myself to smile through the tight set of my jaw. “It’s nice to be back,” I lie. “Thanks again for letting me join so last minute.”
“Well, we’re always happy to have you. And we really do miss you at Pleasant Hills. I know I speak for the entire congregation when I say we’d love to see you at church.”
I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep my pleasant expression from slipping. “Would you be happy to see Hannah, too?”
Pastor Young’s grin is as unwavering as mine, but the warmth of it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. They’re the same color as Julia’s, a rich brown that feels soft and inviting on her. On him, however, it feels dangerous. Bottomless. “Well,” he says. “That remains to be seen.”