Say a Little Prayer(79)

I’d tossed mine aside, too, but Torres had been quiet, reading the letter again and again. Guilt rose in my chest the longer I watched her. Her family had always attended Pleasant Hills. Maybe she wanted to stay. Then she looked up, paper stretched tight in her hands, and said “Who the hell says ‘uncouth’?” with so much disdain Delaney and I had burst out laughing.

We burned the letters that night with a matchbox Julia stole from her father’s personal collection, a fitting goodbye, and that’s why we’re here now, clustered in Torres’s driveway instead of the Youngs’ backyard.

I don’t know if anything will ever really change at Pleasant Hills. In the month since we left, some people organized. They wrote letters to the board expressing concern on our behalf and questioned Pastor Young’s role in it all, but no one orchestrated another walkout or boycotted his sermons. He still preaches every week. I’m sure he still says terrible things, but I know for a fact that he hasn’t singled anyone out since. People are watching him now—the congregation, the town, the board. They’re all locked behind closed doors, quietly wondering if he’s a risk and monitoring their own public image.

That’s where their cowardice comes in handy, I think. Because they don’t care about anything enough to make a stand, not even their own pastor.

Julia and Ben spend most Sundays with us, watching bad Hallmark movies and eating brunch. They still get dragged to a service or two when their dad puts his foot down, but for the most part, there’s a distance. I know that Julia’s gone to Delaney’s church in Franklin a few more times. Once, she even took Hannah with her, and when the two of them came back, they looked so genuinely happy it momentarily made me think I could try again, too.

Mostly, though, I’ve been thinking about Julia. Julia sitting cross-legged on my bed as we help Ben pack for art school. Julia handing me an ice-cream cone in the lobby of the DMV after I finally passed my driver’s test. Julia running laps on the baseball diamond with her hair tucked in a cap.

Julia kissing me in her car at a red light, in the dark, in the privacy of my bedroom. Anywhere and everywhere we can.

It’s not perfect. Most days, I feel like I’m walking a delicate, dangerous line, but it’s mine. Ours. The first time Julia ditched class to meet me at the local Dairy Queen, I took one look at her in her pressed school uniform and thought I understood what Hannah had been trying to say about faith. I don’t know how long we’ll last. I don’t know if this kind of feeling is forever, but I know I have her now.

I only let go of Julia’s hand when the limo pulls into the driveway. The driver steps out to open our door, and we all cram inside, waving goodbye to our parents and pretending not to notice them snapping more pictures as we do. I’ve never been in a limo before, but when I gaze up at the ceiling sparkling with fake starry lights, I decide I have no choice but to become rich and famous. I deserve to ride in something like this all the time.

“Hey, check it out!” Torres’s date—whose name may or may not be Travis—pulls a bottle of bubbly liquid from a refrigerated compartment to his left. “Free booze.”

Julia squints at the label. “That’s apple juice.”

“No.” Maybe-Travis shakes his head and uncorks the bottle with an ease that makes me think he’s done this plenty of times. He takes a long sip, then pulls a face. “Okay, yeah, that’s pure sugar.”

The ride across town isn’t long. Last year’s prom had been at the zoo, and it’s clear the graduating seniors blew our entire events budget because this year, we’re stuck at the banquet hall next to the high school. It’s a nice space, the same venue the drama club uses to host cabaret shows every fall, but the idea of slow dancing next to the polar bear enclosure is too good to give up.

Maybe we’ll upgrade next year. Maybe I’ll rent out the zoo myself, just so I can kiss Julia in the flickering light of the aquarium. That’s true romance, I think.

We pull up to the curb, and the driver rolls down the partition to tell us he’ll be back at eleven. He hands Torres his business card, and the others clamber outside in a flurry of skirts and wilting flowers. I’m about to follow when Julia’s hand curls around my wrist.

“What?” I ask.

Her eyes flash, then she leans in and kisses me hard against the seat. I tug the door closed with my free hand, momentarily shielding us from the outside world, and we get exactly two seconds of privacy before someone raps on the window. I pull back. Julia’s grinning, and when I press a hand to my mouth, I find that I am, too.

“We’re coming!” I yell, and the knocking abruptly stops. Someone giggles, and there’s a scurry of footsteps as the others head inside. I roll my eyes and slide across the seat. “We should go.”

“Should we?” Julia’s looking at me with one eyebrow raised. Usually when she does this, I know exactly what she’s thinking, but now I’m completely lost.

“Yes?”

“Hmm.” She leans forward and knocks on the partition. When it lowers, she sticks her head through the opening and asks, “Are you getting paid hourly? Or is this kind of an all-night thing?”

“I’m yours until eleven, ma’am,” the driver says.

“Excellent. Can you take us to the Taco Bell on Juniper Street?”

I lurch forward. “What are you doing?”