“Strange how?”
She pulls her hair to the side; it falls across her face, like a veil between us. “Last weekend at the game, I told him I didn’t want to be boyfriend-girlfriend, that I didn’t think of him that way. He said something nasty and when I reached out for his arm to tell him I was sorry, he jerked away, popping me in the mouth. It was an accident,” she says as she peeks over at me. “But you weren’t there.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can think back on every terrible thing that’s happened to me and you’ve always been there, making me feel like everything’s going to be okay.”
I swallow hard, remembering picking her up in my arms in the alleyway that night. “What happened after that?”
“I guess I passed out. Miss Granger took me back to her house, took care of me, but I had the strangest feeling, like you were there. I guess I just wanted you to be there, but I swear, I could even smell you.”
“Is my smell that distinct?” I let out a laugh.
“Yeah, it is actually. It’s not a bad thing.” She gives a slight one-shoulder shrug, tucking her hair behind her ear. “This time of year … you smell like dried grains, sweet and kind of powdery. You also smell like diesel and freshly turned soil. And that lotion you use on your hands, the one that smells like rosemary.”
“It’s not lotion-lotion,” I explain. “It’s for calluses.”
“Fine.” She shakes her head. “All I’m saying is, I like it.”
I try not to smile like an idiot, but I can’t help it. Ali Miller likes the way I smell.
“But Tyler,” she says, knotting the string on her sweatpants. “He seems to be getting worse. And that whole thing with the bull … it’s like he’s obsessed with you.”
I know I should tread lightly here, but I feel like I can trust her. “This is going to sound insane.” I drag my hands through my hair. “But I think Tyler killed that bull. I even dreamt about it. I think he’s trying to set me up … he’s trying to make me look crazy.”
“What does Miss Granger think?”
“That’s a whole other story.” I lean forward, pressing my head into my hands.
“I thought so,” she says quietly.
“You thought what?”
“You and Miss Granger.”
“No. No … it’s nothing like that.” I turn toward her.
“She’s pretty.” Ali purses her lips. “And I know she really cares about you.”
“Not the way you think.”
“Then what is it?” She looks into my eyes. “You can tell me, Clay. Nothing you say will shock me or make me stop talking to you. I did that once before, for the Preservation Society, and it was the worst year of my life.”
I look at her and think, what do I have to lose? Maybe she can help me figure this out.
“Miss Granger…” I let out a shaky breath. “She thinks I’m some kind of prophet.”
“A prophet?” Ali’s forehead crinkles up.
“Yeah.” I raise my brows. “Like a bona fide spooky religious fortune-telling prophet … like from the Bible.”
“Okay.” She takes a deep breath. “Because of the things you see? The calf … the cow ritual thing?” she asks.
“Yeah, but I’m thinking they’re probably just nightmares … really vivid nightmares.”
“Or maybe she’s right? You can’t deny strange things have been going on around you.”
“But that’s not all. She also believes we’re evil. You, me, Tyler, Tammy, Ben, and Jimmy. That we’ve been marked for the Devil in some kind of doomsday prophecy.”
“Why would she think that? Why us?”
“I think it has to do with the Preservation Society … the sixth generation … and the mark.”
“But you don’t even have one … do you?” she asks.
“No.” I shake my head. “Apparently, I’ve been able to resist, because I’m a prophet.”
She runs her fingers over the back of her neck, like she might actually be buying into this.
“You’re not evil, Ali.” I take her hand. “I might be completely crazy, but I know that much is true.”
“And you’re not crazy, Clay. I won’t let you be.”
Reverend Devers walks past the car, up to the fence. He’s got his suit on, the one from Sears, and he kneels down, right in the middle of the sidewalk, and starts praying. A couple of assholes honk as they drive by, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. And it gets me thinking about the priests from All Saints. Miss Granger said something about a disturbance at the church that made them not trust me anymore. And there was something so odd about the way they were dressed today … almost like they were in disguise.
“Do priests have different outfits?” I ask. “Catholic priests?”
“I’m not sure, but I think they’re pretty strict about that. Why?”
“There’s somewhere I need to go … something I need to check on, but it’s all the way in Murpheyville. If it’s too far, I can—”