Say a Little Prayer(80)
She shrugs, like this is all completely normal. “Going to the Taco Bell on Juniper Street.”
“Now? What about the dance? Those tickets were not cheap.”
“Relax.” She brushes a kiss to my cheek. “We’ll be right back. If this was a real date, we’d get dinner first, right?”
I try to point out that if this was a real date, we’d be borrowing my mom’s minivan, not living it up in the back seat of a limo, but when I open my mouth, nothing comes out. I rarely see this version of Julia, the one who breaks the rules, who abandons our plans and sets off through town in a limo, just so she can kiss me again. I want to hold on to her as long as I can.
I take her hand, and this time, when she squeezes back, there’s no reason to let go.
Maybe one day, we won’t have to commandeer a limo for something like this. Maybe next year, things will have shifted enough for us to slow dance together in the middle of the Madison High School gymnasium. That future always felt imaginary, something that belonged to other people, not me. Now I’m not so sure. Maybe by the time we’re ready, the predetermined boundaries of what we’re allowed to be in this town will have slipped, just a little. Enough for us to get through.
I look over at Julia as we turn back into the street. The fake ceiling stars overhead catch in her eyes, glimmering off the sequins sewn into the bodice of her gown. More, I think, when she leans her head against the seat. More, more, more.
And this time, there’s no lingering voice telling me it’s wrong.
This time, when I kiss her, there’s no one around to tell me to stop.
Acknowledgments
This will come as a surprise to no one, but I did a lot of thinking about my own religious upbringing while writing this book. Pleasant Hills Baptist Church is by no means a replica of any of the churches I attended throughout my life, but rather an amalgamation of many experiences spread across many brutally formative years. I had cool youth pastors! I had youth pastors who wore faded jeans and played the guitar at us! I had youth pastors who looked me in the eye and told me people could stop being gay if only they prayed hard enough and maybe donated to the church a bit! The duality of man! The point is that this book—which started out as a silly, “haha, maybe one day” bullet point idea in my Notes app—ended up becoming an incredibly necessary, cathartic writing experience, and I’m so grateful for everyone who helped bring it to life.
To Claire Friedman, who’s been the best, most surefire advocate I could ever ask for. Once when I was deep in the query trenches, a friend asked me what qualities I wanted in an agent, and I was like, “IDK, someone who can sell my books and who also likes me?” I feel very fortunate to have ended up with someone who checks those boxes and many, many more. And, of course, endless thanks to the rest of the incredibly talented Inkwell Management team.
To Maggie Rosenthal, who heard the “haha, maybe one day” bullet point idea from my Notes app and let me write a whole book about it. Thank you for always treating my work with such enthusiasm and care. Working with you is a complete joy, and I simply cannot believe we’re on book three!
A huge thank-you to everyone at Viking and Penguin Young Readers for working tirelessly to get this book into readers’ hands, and an extra special shout-out to Louisa Cannell and Kristie Radwilowicz for giving me the cover of my dreams for the second time in a row.
To all the booksellers and librarians who have stocked my books and recommended them to readers. I still have to pinch myself whenever I find my book in the wild, and I know a big reason why they’re out there in the first place is because of your enthusiasm. Ten-year-old me, who read Animorphs in the back of her public library and secretly thumbed through romance novels in her hometown Barnes & Noble, is literally quaking.
To the friends who help make the publishing industry a little more bearable: Serena Kaylor, Sasha Smith, Sophia DeRise, Mary E. Roach, Brit Wanstrath, Morgan Spraker, Libby Kennedy, Emma Benshoff, Jenna Miller, and Brian D. Kennedy. It’s so silly that some of my favorite writers also happen to be my friends. Who would have thought! Your talent speaks for itself, but your generosity and kindness are truly unmatched. You inspire me to be a better writer, a better person, and a better friend. And to my AMM group chat, which is still going strong all these years later. Watching you all thrive has been my very favorite part of this journey.
To my family, blood and chosen, who’ve never missed an opportunity to promote my books to random, mostly unwilling strangers. Thank you for the lifetime of love and support and for bearing with me through copious deadlines. To Maria (and Athena), who once again had to live with me while I sold, drafted, revised, and marketed another book. We could live together another four years and it still wouldn’t be long enough for me to express how much your friendship has changed me as a person. To Sarina Anderson, who knows better than anyone that sometimes you have to laugh at your religious trauma or it swallows you whole. I’m endlessly proud of you and the life you’ve built for yourself on your own terms.
And to Emily, who’s teaching me every day that love stories don’t just exist in the pages of books. You’re my Metaphorical Jesus Lighthouse in a storm.
About the Author
Jenna Voris writes books about ambitious girls and galaxy-traversing adventures. She was born and raised in Indiana—where she learned to love roundabouts and the art of college basketball—and now calls Washington, DC, home. When she’s not writing, she can be found perfecting her road trip playlists and desperately trying to keep her houseplants alive. She is also the author of Made of Stars and Every Time You Hear That Song.