Chapter 8
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37 days until i turn 18
Drew finishes swallowing a fry, takes a deep breath, then looks up at me. “Is your friend Tate dating anybody?”
I suck air in. “I don’t think so. He hasn’t mentioned anyone.”
“Why?” Corndog asks, crinkling his forehead.
Drew suddenly buries his eyes in the heels of his hands. I meet Corndog’s face as recognition sets in for him. Corndog grabs my fingers under the table and squeezes hard.
What do I say?!
I don’t want Drew to think I’m judging him. I don’t know why, but I know how to play this.
“Wait a minute. Tate’s gay?” I ask.
Drew pokes his face out from behind his hands. “I think.”
“I had no idea.” I eat a fry and talk as I chew. “How do you know?”
“I can just tell.”
Corndog smoothes his hair and glances at me sideways. I let go of his fingers and reach across the table and take Drew’s hand in mine, to show I love him. His eyes find mine, and I can tell he knows I knew.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Corndog asks.
“I just did.” With his free hand he stuffs fries in his mouth. That’s when Corndog reaches across the table and puts his hand on top of ours.
“I’m glad you said something,” I reply.
“Is this staying a secret?” Corndog asks. “Or are you going to tell other people?”
“I don’t know yet,” he croaks. His breathing quickens. “I’m not even sure…I mean, I like girls too. Sometimes, I mean. I—”
“It’s okay,” Corndog says. “Let us know if we can do anything.”
“Why are you guys huddling in Jiffy Burger?” Sam calls out, striding up to our table.
Drew quickly wiggles his hand out from under ours and takes a big bite of his burger, getting ketchup and mustard on his chin. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and burps. Nice front. I guess this is staying a secret for now. What a relief.
“You pig,” I say. “Don’t choke on your Monster burger.”
“Did someone say Monster burger?” JJ says from behind Sam.
“Nasty,” Joe Carter says.
“Where’s Jordan tonight?” I ask Sam.
“She kicked me out,” he says with a laugh. “She’s with Carrie and Marie at some party. We’re going to crash it in a few. Y’all want to come?”
“I’m in,” Drew says, dusting salt off his hands.
After I watch the guys eat, like fifty thousand Monster burgers, we drive to Kristen Markum’s house, where lots of people are crowded in the dark living room, dancing to rap music and sipping beer. She’s a nasty piece of work and lots of people dislike her, but hey, a party’s a party, I guess.
“I’m here!” Sam yells and hurtles himself into the mix.
“Woo!” Drew hollers, following him into the throng of girls huddled near a beer pong table. I watch as he takes a shot directly out of a Smirnoff bottle and wipes his mouth, then does another shot. He passes the bottle to Sam, who takes a swig.
JJ and Carter meet up with their girlfriends, leaving me alone with Corndog. He slips a hand onto my lower back.
“Want a drink?” he asks.
“I don’t really drink.”
“Me neither.” He seems deep in thought and looks around the room. His hand doesn’t leave my back. It makes me feel safe.
Laura doesn’t come to parties—she’s a Christian, after all—so it doesn’t surprise me that she’s not here with Aaron and Tate, but Allie is here, checking me out. Hypocrite. Some guy has his arms around her and she’s grinding her butt against him.
“Don’t you know who I am?” I hear Drew yell. Some laughing sophomores—very popular sophomores—are backing him into a corner. One girl whips out a roll of duct tape. Another shoves him against the wall and French kisses him. “I’m the star of the football and baseball teams—you can’t do this to me!”
“This oughta be good,” Corndog says, crossing his arms and smiling. The warm spot on my back where his hand had been goes cool.
A minute later, the girls have gotten JJ to lift Drew off the ground, and they duct tape his wrists and ankles to the wall. He’s hanging there like a fly stuck in honey.
“Didn’t know that was possible,” I say, wide-eyed.
“Do you want to find someplace quiet?” Corndog asks over the music. “To talk?”
I’ve never felt comfortable at parties. “Can we leave?”
He grins, and we go tell Drew we’re taking off. He’s still hanging on the wall.
“I think I’ll head home,” I say, faking a yawn.
“Me too,” Corndog says, touching my back again. “I’ll make sure she gets home, okay?” he says to Drew, who looks from me to Corndog. Sadness washes over his face.
I get up on tiptoes and give Drew a hug—well, the best hug I can considering he’s totally spread eagle.
“Take care of him,” I tell Sam, who’s standing nearby with Jordan, nuzzling her neck. She’s smiling at Sam sideways.
“You got it,” he replies. I can trust him to peel Drew off the wall and get him home safely.
Then Corndog and I take off walking down the highway, passing the Franklin Public Library and Rose Jewelers.
“Well this was a stupid idea,” I say, once I realize it’s freezing outside. Must be in the fifties.
“I’d offer you my coat, but I don’t have one.”
“You could offer me your shirt.” I laugh, pointing at his long-sleeved tee.
“But then we’d look like total white trash. Me walking down the street all bare-chested.”
“I’ll still be your friend, even if you look like white trash.”
He laughs and stuffs his hands in his pockets. “Thanks, that means a lot. I think.” He pauses as a semi races past us, kicking up dust and gravel. He shields me from most of the debris. The dust makes me cough, and he pats my back. We continue on down the highway, and every time a car gets near us, I yell, “Ahhh, Corndog, save me!” and bury my face in his shoulder so I don’t get a mouthful of rocks.
“Why won’t you call me Will?” he asks.
“I dunno. You’ve always been Corndog. My archrival.”
He focuses on the pavement. “Not anymore. You won valedictorian.”
“I did.”
“But you’re still thinking of me as your archrival.”
“I’m Princess Peach, and you’re Bowser,” I say with a laugh.
“You think I’m an ugly dinosaur-dragon dude who kidnaps women for fun?”
“It’s better than being a plumber like Mario. At least Bowser has all those castles. He’s rich!”
“So it’s all about money for you?”
Right there on the side of the road, I do a little line dance. “Any man of mine’s gotta give me lots of presents.”
He pulls me into a waltz. “Oh yeah? Like what?”
“Nail polish? iTunes gift certificates?”
“A guy doesn’t have to be rich to manage that. I can definitely afford to buy nail polish.” Will twirls me.
“I can’t wait to tell all the guys you’re gonna buy me nail polish.”
“Don’t!” he blurts. We laugh so hard, dancing stupidly in a circle.
We mosey past Advanced Auto Parts. Will says, “Crazy what happened with Drew. I didn’t know.”
“I had a feeling. I’m surprised he finally told me.”
“Why?”
Will supported Drew tonight when he told us his secret, so I decide to tell the truth, even though it makes me feel a bit like I’m standing on a cliff with a strong wind at my back. “Because of everything with my mom.”
“What about your mom?”
I pause. “You don’t know about my mom?”
His face is blank. “Nope. Your parents are divorced, right?”
“You don’t remember what happened last year? You don’t remember all those rumors that Laura spread around?”
He musses his hair, looking confused. “Nope.”
He never knew about my mom? He and Drew never discussed it? If he doesn’t know, who else doesn’t know? That means Will doesn’t understand why I fool around with so many guys, that I want to show people I’m not like my mother. He probably thinks I’m just a slut. That day at baseball practice, he told me that I keep screwing with his friends. My reputation must be complete shit. And all for nothing.
This isn’t what I want for myself. I want a normal life, a life where I won’t be afraid of people letting me down. I squat by the side of the road and cover my face, letting a few tears trickle out. Will kneels next to me and rests his hands on my knees.
“What’s up, Parker?”
The story tumbles out. What happened with Mom and Dad. What happened with Laura. Why I quit softball. I squeeze Corndog’s hand, wanting him to pull me out of the wind.
“That sucks…Listen, I’m so sorry about what happened with Laura and softball and school, but your parents still love you, right?”
I wipe my nose with the heel of my hand and sniffle. “Um, I hardly ever talk to Mom. And Dad is like a zombie who thinks prayer solves everything. And my brother is all messed up on drugs.”
“Why don’t you talk to your mom?”
“Because she messed everything up,” I whisper. “She caused my church to turn on me.” I give him a rundown of what happened.
“Your church turning on you doesn’t sound very Christian-like to me,” he says, rubbing the side of his neck.
“I know…Church used to be so important to me…and after that, I didn’t know who I was anymore.”
A semi roars by, so I shut my eyes to shield them from dust. Will runs a hand over my head and then lifts my chin. “You’re a great girl.” He pulls me to my feet. “I’m sure your mom feels terrible about what happened. Is she okay?”
I pause, listening to the sound of cars rushing by. I don’t know if she’s okay. I’ve been so worried about myself and Dad and Drew and Ryan that I haven’t even considered Mom’s feelings. I’m a hypocrite. I worried about how Drew would feel, if he came out, but never thought about how it affected Mom. Does she feel bad for leaving Dad? Does she feel guilty?
Does she feel alone?
Does she hurt because she lost her family too? Because we left her like she left us? I was ready and willing to support Drew, but not my own mother. The memory of the day I found her cooking a roast while crying screams in my mind.
Tears trickle down my face, and Will wipes them away with his shirt sleeve. “I’m so mad at God. For doing this to my family.”
“It’s like you said,” Will whispers. “Shitty stuff happens sometimes. I’m angry at God right now too, because of Bo.”
We start trudging down the highway again, soon turning onto my street behind the KFC.
“Maybe you should come to my church sometime,” he says.
“Where do you go?”
“Westwood.”
“I’d be up for that.” I’m enjoying walking with him. Going slowly gives me time to think.
“Maybe tomorrow?” he asks softly, as we approach my house. The porch light splashes onto the grass and sidewalk.
“I’d like that.”
“What are you gonna do about your mom?”
I shake my head and yawn. “I can’t think anymore tonight.” I don’t even know what I’d say if I were to call Mom. I’m too embarrassed. Too ashamed. Too hurt. I can’t sort it out in my mind.
He drags a hand through his hair and studies my face. “Thanks for telling me that stuff.”
“You can pour your heart out to me next time,” I joke.
“Maybe I will tomorrow after church.” He laughs. “We can watch another chick flick.”
Part of me wonders if Brian will want to hang out tomorrow, while another part of me wants to spend time with Will.
“Sounds good.”
He squeezes my hand before hopping off the porch. “I’m picking the movie this time, though.”
???
Before doing anything, I send Drew a text: Are you off the wall?
Barely.
Drunk?
I drank sooo much. Will be sick for days. :(
:( Thx for telling me about u. Love u.
Love u too. Nice time w/Corndog?
Very nice. Good friend.
Only a friend?
Yeah…
I like him
Oh no, I think. Drew must be way drunk. I text back: You like like Corndog?
For a long time. Pls don’t tell him! I just wanted to tell somebody!
I won’t tell. No worries.
Thx. Love u.
I slide my phone shut. Stare at it. Drew likes Will. After Drew broke up with Amy, he told Will he was interested in someone else. Shit.
I wash and moisturize my face and brush my teeth. All the while thinking of Will and how fun tonight was, and how now that I know how Drew feels, I’m like a balloon that’s been popped and the air is rushing out, leaving nothing but confusion.
Once I’m in bed, I think of Brian. He said he wanted to talk, so I take a deep breath and call him. He picks up on the first ring. “Hey.” He sounds tired and relieved. “I was worried about you.”
“I’m fine…so this afternoon…” I curl up under my covers while waiting for his response.
“It was…nice.”
“I thought so too—”
“It can’t happen again.”
“I don’t get that. We’ll keep it a secret.”
“You’re so young…” He pauses for a long moment. “It’s hard to keep away from you. My job’s on the line. My future. I could get in a hell of a lot of trouble for what happened today, Parker. Have you thought of that?”
“Sorta…”
“Just sorta? You have to take responsibility for stuff as an adult.”
“I thought you were living for today or whatever.”
“I’m trying. But I’d rather live for today and not lose my job for kissing a student.”
“I’m only going to be a student for another couple of months, you know.”
“I know, I know.” He takes a deep breath. “This is hard for me right now, okay? My mind’s messed up.”
“’Cause of baseball?”
“Yeah. I thought I’d make it to the big leagues and now I’m stuck—” He stops.
“You can talk to me.”
“I want to, but I need time to figure this out.”
“What’s there to figure out?”
“I like you, okay? I like you. But I don’t know how to deal. I don’t really want to sneak around. I’m not like that.”
“Who says we have to sneak around? Give it a month and it’ll be legal. I’ll be eighteen.”
“That doesn’t make it right.”
Today’s kisses seemed right to me.
“I want to see you,” I tell him.
He exhales deeply. Hesitates. “Now?”
I glance at my watch. 11:30 p.m. Dad is definitely asleep. Ryan probably passed out listening to his strange trance music.
“Now,” I say.
He says he’ll meet me at the laundromat across the road in twenty minutes. Perfect! Gives me time to take a quick shower. After doing my powder and lip gloss, I slip on black underwear, velvet sweatpants, and a matching hoodie. Then I click the front door shut and dart across the street, shivering under the streetlights. I’m glad Ryan’s window faces the backyard.
The laundromat is closed, so Brian’s truck is the only vehicle in sight, tucked behind the Dumpsters. Away from the streetlights. He smiles through the window and waves, his eyes darting around. I open the door to his truck, slide across the bench and kiss him before he can stop me. He tastes like mint toothpaste. My hands are on his neck and his are in my hair, and I can tell he’s experienced. He’s probably had sex.
He pushes me backward and climbs on top, his weight heavy, yet comforting.
This is way different than with other guys.
???
Every Halloween, my church puts on a morality play, usually where the teenage characters get sloppily drunk and don’t treat their bodies like temples, or have sex before marriage, and end up going to Hell. People who come to watch the play walk through a room made to look and feel like Hell. A Judgment House. We crank up the heat to 100 degrees. Red Christmas lights act as burning embers in the bowels of Hell. A soundtrack featuring a weird demon-devil creature cackling plays in the darkness. Sure, people made fun of the depiction of Hell, but it always scares me because I know the real Hell must be a million times worse.
God, is my family going to end up there? Because we’re sinners?
Written before church on February 28. Burned, using a match.
???
I whip open the front door to find Will, here to collect me for church.
“Hey, come on in,” I say, grinning.
“Thanks.” He’s wearing khakis, a blue shirt and tie, and loafers. He rubs his palms together.
“Let me just get my bag.” I skip to the bathroom and check my lip gloss and powder one more time before grabbing my purse from my bed. Instead of leather boots, I slip my feet into heels. When I go back to the foyer, Dad’s standing there pinching his bottom lip. I picked up that habit from him.
“You’re going to another church?” Dad asks, furrowing his brow.
“Yeah. Is that okay?” I ask, pulling a jacket on over my simple pink dress.
Dad sets a hand on Will’s shoulder and studies his face. “What church do you go to, Corn Fritter?”
I crack up. “It’s Corndog!”
Will covers a laugh with his fist. “I go to Westwood, sir.”
Dad turns his attention back to me. “I, uh, is there something wrong with our church?”
“Just wanted to spend time with my friend.”
Will beams at that, but I shrug, acting like going to another church is no big deal, even though it kinda is. I’ve never been anywhere but Forrest Sanctuary.
Dad takes longer than an inning to come up with a response. “This is a one-time thing, right? You’ll be back at our church for WNYG and services next Sunday?”
“Definitely,” I say, then I’m pulling Will out the front door by his wrist. We climb into his truck, and he whistles.
“You sure got a strong grip.” He rubs his wrist, chuckling. “I’m glad I’m not a ball bat.”
I laugh softly. “And I’m out of shape.”
Will inserts his key into the ignition and turns it; the diesel engine rumbles to a start. “I’d be happy to bat or throw a ball around with you anytime,” he says, pulling onto the highway. A milk truck passes us.
We ride to Westwood in a comfortable silence filled only by the soft crooning of Rascal Flatts. He has a picture of Bo and two other boys tucked against the glass above his odometer. Must be his brothers. We grin at each other.
“I wish we hadn’t competed all through school,” I say. “I wish we had been friends before now.”
“Yeah.” He focuses on the road.
We pull into the church parking lot, and even though it’s February and freezing, people our age are either playing a game of pick-up basketball or cheering the players on. Will is out of the car and jogging toward the guys before my seatbelt is unbuckled.
He jets to center court, steals the ball from some guy, and shoots, nailing two points. It makes me smile, but I’m also kinda pissed he abandoned me in the car. But before I flip out, he’s jogging back over, his brown hair flopping across his forehead. He whips open my door and helps me step out, then leads me over to the courts. Only about twelve kids are here—a lot fewer than at Forrest Sanctuary. I recognize two people: A*shole Paul Briggs the catcher, and Jenna—a sophomore who plays center field for the softball team. She’s killer at bat. She gives me a little wave.
“Go say hi,” Will tells me. “I’ll introduce you around after I play some ball.” He runs off to steal the basketball again.
I take a deep breath and go see Jenna.
“Love your dress,” she says, scanning me.
“You too,” I reply. She’s wearing a cute gray dress. It looks vintage.
“You’re here with Will?” she asks, bouncing a little.
“Yep.”
“He’s never brought a girl to church before.”
“Yeah?”
Jenna nods, and proceeds to talk my ear off about softball and her crush on some sophomore named Tim Keller who I’ve never heard of, and she starts quizzing me about Will and who he’s dating. I shrug and watch as Will dodges Paul to bank a layup off the backboard. The ball swooshes through the net.
I clap and go, “Wooo!”
Will tosses the ball to some guy and heads toward me with a blazing smile on his face. “Sorry. Couldn’t help but show off a bit. Want to come inside and meet my mother?”
“Um, sure.” I tell Jenna it was nice talking to her, then follow Will inside what must be their Fellowship Hall. Will holds my elbow as we stride up to a beautiful woman drinking coffee while playing with her necklace, a chain holding a single pearl. She’s in her forties and has very structured brown hair, like she’s in a Lands’ End catalog or something. When he touches her shoulder, the woman stops talking and turns.
“You must be Parker,” she says, sticking out a manicured hand. Her nails are a deep maroon.
“Yes, ma’am,” I reply. She checks out my nails too. Today I wore Blushingham Palace, a soft pink to match my dress. She releases my hand, then looks back up.
“I’m Mrs. Whitfield.” Ah. A true Southern belle. Those kind of women at my church give me total stink eye.
“Nice to meet you, ma’am,” I say, giving her a nervous smile.
“You too, dear.” She sips her coffee. “I’ve been wanting to meet the girl who’s smarter than my Wills.”
“Mom,” Will whines. “Would you stop calling me Wills? It makes me sound like I’m royalty or something.”
She sticks out her pinky finger and waves her Styrofoam cup in an aristocratic manner. “Well you are my little prince.”
His eyes bulge and his mouth falls open. “Mom. Stop.”
She smiles and wraps an arm around his waist. “Hush. You know I’ve been wanting you to bring around a respectable girl.”
My face heats up, and I can’t help but grin. Respectable. This is new and different. If the women at my church could keep their sons on a different continent than me, they would.
Will goes to get me some water and leaves me to chat with his mother, who’s thrilled to hear I’m planning on going to Vanderbilt. He comes back carrying bottled water for me in one hand and Bo in the other arm.
“You remember my brother, Bo,” Will says, looking at him proudly. Will squeezes Bo’s knee, and I’m overcome by how jealous I am of that love. “Can you say hi to Parker?”
Bo buries his face in Will’s shoulder.
“Hey, Bo,” I say. “You love baseball, right?”
He peeks up and nods, and Mrs. Whitfield raises her eyebrows at Will.
Later, Will introduces me around. I say hi to Marie Baird from school, and she says she’s glad I came to church today. And then Will’s youth pastor, this huge guy named Lance, shakes my hand like a rattle.
“Welcome to Westwood,” he says. “It’s Game Sunday.”
“Game Sunday?” I ask.
“We clear the tables out of this room and the youth play games. Today we’re gonna play Freeze Tag and Red Rover for sure.” Lance shuffles off.
“Freeze Tag is a terrible idea,” Will murmurs to me.
“Does he not notice that y’all aren’t five anymore?” I whisper.
“Lance is the king of terrible ideas.”
Lance begins moving furniture as the adults and younger children clear out of the room. Soon it’s only people our age. Jenna is flirting with some boy while Paul keeps touching Marie and she keeps batting him away.
Loud Christian rock music tumbles out of the speakers. The drums make the windows vibrate. Funny. Brother John once told us that “heavy drum music makes teenagers act in sinful ways,” so we shouldn’t listen to it.
Will takes the water out of my hand and sets it on a window sill as Lance yells, “Tag, you’re it!” and slaps a younger boy’s arm. All the girls kick their heels off, so I do too. We start running, slipping on the linoleum floor, and I’m laughing like crazy. The boy tries to tag me, but I sidestep him and speed across the room.
“Nice,” Will calls out to me.
The boy takes off after Jenna and tags her. To unfreeze her, Paul tries to crawl through her legs and she’s hollering “Gross! Stop! Stop!” and batting him away.
“Paul! You’re three times her size!” Lance calls out. He’s trudging around the room at a turtle’s pace.
“So?” Paul pauses right between her legs, and it’s such a sight I stop running and I’m dying of laughter. Will is too.
“You think you can unfreeze her? You’re like ten times the size of me,” Paul says to Lance, who laughs.
The boy tags me, so I freeze. “Will! Come unfreeze me!”
He stops, finding my eyes. “Marie, help Parker!”
Marie comes and crawls through my legs, and I can’t stop laughing. After my third game of Red Rover, I take a breather. Will joins me in sitting on the window sill; our feet bang against the wall.
“Why wouldn’t you unfreeze me?” I ask, giggling.
He clears his throat. “I’m a lot bigger than you,” he says, gesturing at his body. “Besides, it’s not a very gentlemanly thing to do. I don’t want to be like Pervy Paul over there.”
“You’re all right, Will Whitfield.” I smile at him sideways.
He blushes, and gestures at his Fellowship Hall. “What do you think so far?”
“It’s fun. But don’t you have Bible Study? Or talk about good Christian behavior and whatnot?”
“Sure, sometimes,” he replies, lifting a shoulder.
“You don’t play games every week?”
He chuckles. “You’re lucky you didn’t visit on Don’t Make Bad Life Choices Sunday.”
“Don’t Make Bad Life Choices Sunday?” I laugh.
“Yeah, Lance had a doctor come in and show us pictures of what lung cancer and STDs look like under a microscope.”
My mouth drops open. “Sounds more effective than telling us we’ll go to Hell if we get trashed or have sex before marriage.”
Will’s face wears a look of horror. “It was very effective. And then the doctor told us about the tests they run to find out if you have an STD.” He swallows.
“I don’t want to know.”
“You definitely do not want to know.” He glances at me, and his face goes even redder. But then he laughs. “Paul was freaking out.”
“Waaaaay too much info, Will.”
“Hey, if I had to suffer through it, so do you.”
“You’re evil.”
“So do you want to watch The Notebook this afternoon?”
???
His mom invites me back to his house for Sunday lunch. She made baked chicken with lemon, corn on the cob, and cornbread. We hold hands while Mr. Whitfield says the Lord’s Prayer. Will has two other brothers—Trey is nine and Rory is fourteen. Will and I open our eyes during the prayer, sneaking a quick smile at each other.
I love eating a home-cooked meal that I didn’t have to make. And after that, Will and I collapse onto a couch in his basement and promptly fall asleep, like last Sunday. Only this time when I wake up, Will’s head is resting on my shoulder and his hand is draped across my thigh.
A warm breeze rushes through my body, and I feel safe. Safe with him. His hand is on my leg and I find I like it being there.
What if Drew finds out? What if Brian finds out? How could I hurt Drew like that? How could I hurt Brian, who’s risking everything for me?
Just goes to show that a trip to a new church won’t automatically make me a good person. I don’t deserve any of this.
Even if I like Will, and if by some miracle he wants me—which is kinda doubtful, considering how pissed he got that I was fooling around with his friends—I can’t do this to Drew.