Say a Little Prayer(6)

“I know.” Hannah nods sagely. “Someone’s going to Parent Trap your bunk for sure.”

“Hannah!”

“I’m kidding! Once the counselors put you in groups, you’ll barely see anyone else. Besides, you’ll have Ben and Julia to protect you.”

I decide not to mention the time Ben broke his foot leaping off our back porch because he “thought there was a bee.” He’s probably the last person I’d call in a crisis, but the thought of spending next week with him and Julia is the only thing keeping me from throwing my suitcase out the window.

Ben and Julia Young have attended every Pleasant Hills retreat, youth camp, and mission trip since they’ve been able to walk, partially because their dad is the pastor and partially because I think the worship band would fall apart if Julia wasn’t around to transpose their sheet music. They’re two of my best friends in the world, and if I have to spend my spring break listening to Pastor Young proselytize about how God cured his friend’s brother’s uncle’s depression or something, at least I won’t be alone.

I stand and pick my way across the room as Hannah goes back to folding my clothes. When I yank open my curtains, I can see right across the narrow stretch of yard and straight into Julia’s room next door. Most afternoons her own curtains are pulled tight, room quiet and dark as it waits for her to return from softball practice or student government or her latest volunteer project, but today her window is thrown wide. She’s sitting at her desk, typing away at her laptop with a stack of textbooks perched precariously in the corner. I unlock my own window and cup my hands around my mouth.

“Jules!”

She looks up, face shifting from concentration to relief when she spots me. “Hey! Are you packed yet?”

“Not even close!”

I had texted her and Ben about my new spring break plans the second I got home, trying desperately to find some silver lining to my week of mandated holy reflection.

You signed up?? Julia had asked. For real? Blink twice if you’re being held against your will.

I mean, it’s definitely against my will, but it’s happening, I texted back. It’s the only way Mr. Rider will still let me do the musical.

Ben’s reply had come a few minutes later, accompanied by a line of smiling devil face emoji. Don’t be so modest, Riley. I think Daddy Christ is thrilled you’re ready to welcome him back into your heart.

Personally, I think Daddy Christ has bigger things to worry about.

“Come over,” I say, motioning Julia toward my room. “Help me pack.”

Julia hesitates. “Aren’t you grounded?”

“You’re grounded?” Ben’s head pops into view over Julia’s shoulder, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t think your parents knew how to do that.”

Honestly, I didn’t either. Before today, the most trouble I’d ever been in was last year when I ditched school and let one of the senior drama club kids drive me downtown for a protest march against gun violence. Even then, my lecture had basically boiled down to If you’re going to skip class for a cause you believe in, that’s fine, but for the love of God, please tell us where you’re going so we don’t spend the afternoon thinking you’re dead in a ditch.

“Please?” I try again. “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

Julia pretends to consider for a second longer before closing her laptop. “Hold on. We’re coming.”

She snaps her curtains closed, and less than a minute later, I hear our doorbell ring. I open my bedroom door and promptly trip over three different pairs of sneakers on my way into the hall. I can’t see much from up here, but if I lean over the banister, I can hear Mom’s voice loud and clear as she opens the front door.

“You know Riley’s grounded, right?”

“Hi, Mrs. Ackerman.” Julia’s voice is sugary sweet. I picture her and Ben standing shoulder to shoulder on the porch, flashing Mom their best Oscar-winning smiles. “Yeah, that’s a bummer, but we’re here to see Hannah, actually.”

Mom hesitates, appropriately wary. “You’re both here to see Hannah?”

“Yup!” Ben chimes in. “I don’t even know who Riley is.”

The silence stretches a few seconds longer before Mom seems to decide turning them away is more trouble than they’re worth. She heaves a sigh, and the front door creaks as she tugs it the rest of the way open. “You have fifteen minutes.”

Hannah slips off my bed as two pairs of footsteps pound up the stairs, leaving a pile of neatly folded socks in her place. “I’ll let you three finish,” she says. “Don’t overpack.”

She steps into the hallway right as Ben and Julia round the corner. Ben promptly trips over the rug, then catches himself on the banister just in time to avoid tumbling back down the stairs. “Hi, Hannah.” He leans one elbow against the wall in what I think is supposed to be casual nonchalance. “You look nice.”

Hannah considers him for exactly half a second before slipping under his outstretched arm. “Thanks, Ben.”

I bite my lip as the three of us watch her retreat downstairs. “Wow,” I say. “That was your worst performance yet, I think.”

“You weren’t there yesterday,” Julia says. “He asked her if she liked food. No intro or anything.”