He laughed and shook his head. “I really like her.”
“I know you do. You’ve liked her for two very long years.”
“Daniel’s such a tool,” Oliver muttered, balling his hands into fists.
“Yes, he is.” I didn’t know Daniel at all, but I agreed with my brother because he was hurting. If he had said that Kim was a stupid bitch, I would have agreed with that, too.
“When do you think you’ll be able to drive, Cay?” Oliver asked. “This bus thing sucks.”
“I’m trying, Oliver. I really am. Can’t you tell how hard I’ve been working?”
Oliver nodded. “What’s the deal with Mom and Dad?”
“It’s called brutal punishment,” I replied.
“Yeah, but wasn’t that what juvie was for?”
“That was the state’s punishment. Not Mom and Dad’s,” I clarified.
Oliver sighed. Again.
“You’re never getting your car back.”
I draped my arm over his shoulder. “Oh, sure I will,” I said airily. “Probably when I graduate.”
He snorted. “You’re totally ruining my life.”
I stood at the doors to the sanctuary holding a stack of programs. I wore a blue and white striped dress with ballet flats. My hair fell over my shoulder in a thick side braid, and my eyes sported no make-up except for a bit of mascara. I was going for an innocent look. I tried not to sweat on the programs, but my palms were clammy. This was the ultimate form of punishment—saying “hello” to every church member as they passed by me with suspicious or pitying looks. Now I understood why Dad gave me this job. He wanted to remind me that I was being judged, that our church had not forgiven me for my transgressions, and that I had a lot of work to do to reclaim that “good girl” status.
“Good morning, Ms. Warren,” I said sweetly, extending a program.
“Cadence,” she said, and snatched the paper from my hand.
“Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Sunder.”
“Nice to see you, Cadence,” Mrs. Sunder replied. It was kind but reserved.
“Good morning, Mr. Connelly.”
What?
“Hi, Cadence,” Mr. Connelly replied.
“You go to church?” I asked. I’d never seen him before.
He smiled patiently and ignored my question. “This is my mother, Naomi.”
“I’m the one who goes to church, dear,” she said. Her eyes twinkled, and I thought she was up to something.
“Oh. Hi, Mrs. Connelly,” I replied.
“I dragged Mark here today,” she said, nudging me. “Like church is so scary, right?”
I forced a smile. Right now for me, it actually was.
“And I have an ulterior motive,” she went on.
“Mom . . .”
Mrs. Connelly ignored her son. “This church is pretty large, huh?”
I nodded.
“And filled with beautiful women who love the Lord.”
“Mom . . .”
“I’m playing matchmaker,” she said, looking me up and down. She grabbed my arm and pulled me close. “Mark’s been in a dating slump for about—”
“Mother!”
Mrs. Connelly looked up at her son, her eyes suddenly soft and sad. “Honey, I don’t mean to be insensitive.”
“Please stop,” Mr. Connelly said through gritted teeth. His body was tensed to the max, and I was dying to know what Mrs. Connelly was going to say before he interrupted her.
She turned back to me and looked me over once more. Apparently she liked what she saw because she smiled her approval and said, “What are your plans after church, dear? Care to have lunch with us?”
My eyes nearly bugged out of my head.
“Mom, Cadence is one of my students.”
“Oh my!” Mrs. Connelly cried. She grabbed the program I automatically extended. “I swear girls don’t look their ages anymore. Cadence, dear, I’m so sorry.”
I opened my mouth then closed it. And then I opened my mouth again and closed it again. I looked like a fish trying to breathe.
Mrs. Connelly cleared her throat. “So what grade are you in?”
“Twelfth,” I replied. I thought I looked very much like a senior. Mrs. Connelly ought to see some of the girls in my class. They looked like they were in their late twenties.
“A senior,” she said. “Good for you. Do you know where you’ll be going to college?”
She was only asking me these questions because she was embarrassed after discovering I was an inappropriate match for her son.
“I’m waiting to hear back from a few,” I replied. We stood awkwardly before Mr. Connelly addressed his mother.
“We should go in now.” He placed his hand on his mother’s elbow and steered her into the sanctuary.
I watched them meander through the crowd to some available seats. Beside my parents! Dad shook Mr. Connelly’s hand and pointed to the seat next to him. Mr. Connelly nodded and left it open. My seat. Right in between my father and my very cute, very off-limits math teacher.
I wanted to die.
As soon as I heard the music start, I knew it was time to go in. I placed the rest of the programs on a nearby table and tentatively walked inside the sanctuary. I slipped into our usual row and tried my hardest not to look at Mr. Connelly. But it was impossible, and when I did glimpse him, I saw a tiny smile playing on his lips. What was that? I rolled my eyes and directed my attention to the large screen on stage that highlighted the words to the current song.
Ours was your typical big ass non-denominational church complete with Starbucks-toting attendees, a church band that liked to play U2 hits before the service, and a pastor who always wore jeans. He did more teaching than preaching, which I liked very much, never having been the type of girl who enjoys being yelled at or sweated on.