Taylor stared at the ground, brooding. “I’m not convinced all that much has changed.”
“No?”
“In some ways it has. I mean, when I was teaching in Austin it made me so relieved that my kids felt comfortable being gay or trans or whatever—and their parents were okay with it! Obviously, that’s not true everywhere. But it was awesome. And just so different from what I experienced.”
“What were you like in school?” I grinned. “You must’ve been cute.”
“I was awkward as hell.” She laughed. “I was also super Christian, if you can believe it.”
“Really.” I raised an eyebrow. “I was not expecting that.”
“Yep. All the way through high school. My main hang was with my church youth group. We’d go on these camping trips, and we’d sit around the fire and confess our sins. I always thought it was ridiculous that the boys would confess having ‘unclean thoughts,’ but the girls never did. I was already interested in girls but I just kept it all in and felt extremely guilty.”
“That sounds tough.” Mom had made my life difficult in a lot of ways, but one thing I could be grateful for was that she’d never shoved any religious rules down my throat.
“And here’s the rub.” Taylor wrapped her hands around her knees, a faraway look in her eyes. “When I was a senior, it came out that our youth pastor had been sleeping with a junior for at least a year. I remember we were all surprised because she wasn’t even that pretty. And then everyone got mad at her. Him, too, obviously. He and his wife moved to another state. The age of consent was seventeen, so he hadn’t done anything illegal. But this poor girl, Holly, she had to just deal with it. Everyone hated her guts, students and parents. She was the ugly whore who had somehow seduced him. And that was the thing that really shook me out of my religious fervor. I woke up and realized I’d been brainwashed. I was like: What the fuck are we doing? Why do we always have to take the blame?”
“That’s messed up.”
Taylor’s face was drawn. She looked different, older, without her ubiquitous smile. “The saddest part is that she died by suicide. It was a year later, her senior year. Her parents found her in her closet. Apparently the online bullying just never stopped.”
“Oh, no.” My chest squeezed. “That’s so sad.”
“I know.” Taylor cleared her throat. “Speaking of bullying, I actually came in here to tell you something. It’s about Wren.” She raised her eyes. “I heard her and Roza in the kitchen yesterday. Wren was talking about you.”
“What’d she say?”
Taylor sucked on the inside of her cheek. “That you were obsessed with her for years. That she thought about taking out a restraining order on you multiple times. Especially after…” She looked down. “Especially after you pushed her off the steps at that party.”
I exhaled, feeling suddenly dizzy and confused. So Wren had known my ugly intention on the steps this entire time? Or was she just saying it to Roza to make me look bad, not realizing it was kind of true?
“I know she’s lying.” Taylor shrugged. “But you might want to make sure Roza knows.”
Oh, Roza knew.
“Thanks for telling me,” I said. “I appreciate that. And it feels good to know you have my back.”
“No problem.” Taylor scrunched her nose. “I hate mean girls.”
Excerpt from The Great Commission This had never happened before. Instead of speaking through Daphne, the creature now stood before her: a magnificent woman who had arrived from a distant universe.
She was nearly seven feet tall, her limbs long and muscular. Her body glowed a bright tangerine color and radiated heat. Silky hair flowed over her shoulders and covered her breasts. Her eyes were the most striking: colorless yet somehow full of color, glowing and hypnotic.
Daphne stood frozen and unable to speak. She wasn’t terrified but in awe. The thought arose: Who are you?
And the woman responded inside her mind, the sound exploding like a bomb: I am—
Chapter 20
“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Taylor cried as I opened the door. Behind her, Keira blew a noisemaker.
I laughed. Taylor wore Poppy’s pink sweater and had pinned paper hearts all over that said things like Be My Sub, Whats Yr kink?, and Let’s Fuck!
I yearned to stay at my desk and continue writing about Daphne’s meeting with Lamia. But it was cocktail hour. I knew the rules.
“Where did you get this stuff?” I asked as Keira handed me another noisemaker out of a plastic bag. She was wearing her usual all black but had added hot-pink lipstick.
“I bribed Chitra when she went out for supplies.” Taylor wiggled her eyebrows, handing me a Mardi Gras–style necklace made of red plastic hearts. She also wore a headband of hearts that pushed back her short hair.
Odd that Taylor was making such a big deal out of the holiday, which I’d completely forgotten about. But then again, she was a teacher. I could picture her decorating her classroom and handing out valentines—though without the profanity.
“Honestly, it’s just easier to go along with it.” Keira pushed up her glasses and rubbed her eyes wearily.
“Hey!” Taylor cried. “Guys, life is dreary enough. We have to make our own fun. Right?”
“Sure, why not?” I went back to my desk to turn off the lamp and close my laptop. Outside, the wind was picking up. Snow lashed against the window in shimmering undulations.
“Al, are you wearing that?” Taylor motioned at my jeggings. “Let’s jazz it up a little, huh?”
“Yeah, look at me!” Poppy appeared behind Taylor and Keira. She was already wearing a cheap heart-laden necklace, in addition to a scarlet dress and lipstick. Her blond hair settled against her shoulders in perfect waves.
“Did you bring that dress specifically for Valentine’s Day?” I asked.
“Ew, no. I totally hate this holiday normally, but we’re at Roza Vallo’s!” Poppy hopped up and down. “I mean, best Valentine’s Day ever, right?”
“Can’t argue with that.” I pulled off my jeggings, ignoring a twinge of embarrassment that I was changing in front of everyone, and pulled on black pants and a ruby sweater.
“Where’s Wren?” Taylor asked Poppy.
“Oh, she’s not feeling well.” Poppy twisted her mouth in sympathy. “She has a cold.”
“Uh-uh.” Taylor whirled around. “V-Day is nonnegotiable. I’ll meet you bitches down there.”
* * *
In the parlor, paper heart streamers were draped over various animal heads, giving them a festive air. Red pillar candles flickered from the coffee table. The lights had been dimmed, and it felt much later than 6:30. The side table held different types of cookies—homemade by Chitra, it looked like—and a large crystal punch bowl. Six gleaming goblets waited beside it.
“Wow,” I said. “Taylor, did you do all this?”
“With Chitra’s help.” Taylor went right to the punch and began ladling out glasses of the pink liquid. “Is it a bit much? Perhaps. Could I be going slightly insane after being stuck inside, writing my brains out for two straight weeks? Really, who’s to say?”