Say a Little Prayer(60)

“Gross.” I wrinkle my nose. “All we got was a weird PowerPoint about how Jesus hates the female orgasm.”

Ben straightens. “Really?”

“No, but it was totally implied.”

He laughs, and as he relaxes against the wall, I catch a glimpse of something solid and rectangular stuffed in his pocket. My eyes immediately narrow. “Is that your phone?”

“What?” Ben stiffens. “No.”

It definitely is. I make a grab for his pocket, but Ben gets there first. He’s taller than me, so when he thrusts his hand in the air, the phone hangs just out of reach. I jump for it anyway, grabbing his wrist and accidentally smashing his glasses into his face in the process.

“Ow!” he cries. “Okay, okay! It’s my phone. Cindy gave it back this morning.”

I shove him away. “Are you serious? I had to sit through her sex PowerPoint, but she let you have your phone? Why?”

“I wanted to check the weather.”

“You…What?”

“The weather,” Ben repeats. “There’s a storm coming. I heard Dad and the counselors talk about driving home early if it doesn’t go around us.”

I glance up at the sky. Of course it’s going to rain. Even I could tell him that, but there’s no way he sweet-talked Cindy into breaking camp rules to look at the weather. “So what does it say?”

Ben’s throat bobs. “What?”

“What does it say?” I wave a hand in the direction of his phone. “If you spent all morning looking at the weather, you should have a pretty good idea of what we’re dealing with.”

“I…” Ben’s face is slowly turning the same color as his hair. “See, this is why it’s so important to keep up, Riley. If you bothered to read the forecast—”

“Liar.” Suspicion tips down my spine. “Who are you talking to?”

“No one!”

The answer is too quick. I plant both hands on my hips. “Ben.”

To his credit, he really tries to keep it in. I can tell. His gaze shifts from side to side, like he’s searching for an escape route, and after a few seconds, I see him actually start to sweat.

“Okay, fine,” he gasps. “I’m texting Hannah.”

I throw up my hands. “Yes, Ben! I know! Everyone knows. You literally could not be more obvious about it!” Then I hesitate as the full implication of what he’s saying sinks in. “Is she…texting you back?”

He nods, gaze locked determinedly on the ground. “We’ve been talking all morning.”

I don’t know why that surprises me. Hannah and Ben are friends. We’re all friends, but it’s not like the two of them have a “text all morning while one of them is at church camp” kind of relationship. I wait for the familiar protective rush, for something jealous and dark to worm its way into my chest, but nothing comes. This, I think, feels like something that was bound to happen sooner or later.

“Good,” I say. “I’m glad.”

Ben ducks his head, cheeks still glowing a concerning shade of pink. “I like her,” he says, like it’s a secret confession and not the most obvious thing in the world.

I put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “I know.” Then I tighten my grip, drop my mouth close to his ear, and whisper, “But if you even think about hurting her, I swear to God and Jesus and all the holy spirits—”

“There’s only one Holy Spirit,” Ben interrupts weakly.

“—I swear to the singular Holy Spirit that I will hunt you down and bury you in the Pleasant Hills cemetery. You won’t even have a headstone. No one will ever see you again.”

Ben has gone remarkably still under my fingers. “I know,” he says. “I actually think about that all the time.”

“Good.” I give his shoulder another reassuring pat before pushing him away.

Ben still looks wary as he brushes the wrinkles from his shirt, but when he looks up again, something about his expression is significantly lighter. “Are you heading to lunch?” he asks. “I need to stop by the cabin first, but I’ll walk with you.”

I shake my head. “I’m waiting for Julia. But can you take this back to my cabin on your way?” I slide my bag down my arm. “I hate carrying it around.”

Ben takes it with a barely concealed grunt. “I have no idea how they make those books so heavy.”

“I think it’s the weight of our sins.”

“Hmm.” He slings the bag over his shoulder. “That explains a lot.”

He sets off toward the cabins, sparing me one last nervous glance over his shoulder. I bite back a grin. I don’t have to wonder what Hannah sees in him. They’ve always been two sides of the same coin, a pair that make sense. It’s the same way I feel about Julia.

At the thought, I sneak another glance toward the chapel, but the door remains tightly closed. Unease curls unbidden in my chest. Maybe Julia already left. Maybe she slipped past me in the crowd or snuck out the back to avoid me entirely. I kick my heel against the wall and tell myself it’s fine. I’ll give her another minute. The seconds tick down in my mind, and when she doesn’t appear, I give her two more, just to be sure.

Only when I reach zero a third time do I let out a rough groan and stalk back into the chapel, ignoring the way Crucified Jesus #4 rattles in time to the slamming door.