Small Town Sinners (14 page)

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Authors: Melissa Walker

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“I know,” I say, pleased with Ty. “It’s nice that you feel comfortable here.”

“Well, to be honest, when I came on Monday after school, I had another motive,” he says. “But I found it so peaceful that I’ve found reasons to come back yesterday and today, too.”

“Oh,” I say. “What was the other motive?”

“I thought you might be here,” says Ty. “I mean, if you had some things you wanted to contemplate or whatever.”

“I’ve been busy,” I say, flushed at the thought of him seeking me out. And then I think about how I don’t really come to church to ruminate in the way Ty’s talking about.

“You know,” I say, considering this for the first time, “when I want to really think about something, I go to the woods. The breeze calms me down. And I like the way the light is softer there, muted by the leaves.”

Ty raises one eyebrow. “Less of a church girl than I thought,” he says. “That sounds downright alternative, communing with nature.”

“It’s not like that,” I say. “I want to be close to God. I just think better outside, under His sky.”

And when I say it that way, it sounds right, and true.

Ty smiles and nods. “That makes sense,” he says. Then he adds, “Starla Joy’s been here too.”

“You mean in the sanctuary?” I ask. “After school?” Every day this week, she’s told me how she has to rush home to help her mom.

“Yeah,” says Ty. “She just sits in there. She likes the back row, but I prefer the light from the front. We haven’t talked or anything, really, but it’s nice to have someone to share the silence with.”

And I wonder why Ty has so much to figure out when it’s Tessa who got pregnant. It’s not like he even knows the Minters very well, but he’s acting like it’s his own family who’s in trouble. I want to believe he’s sensitive, but I wonder if there’s something more. Does he like Starla Joy? Doesn’t he want to share the silence with
me
?

I shake my head to clear those kinds of thoughts. We’re in church, talking about Tessa. I shouldn’t let envy creep into my mind.

The conference room door opens suddenly, and a group of guys walk out, laughing loudly. Jeremy Jackson looks over at our bench, and I can feel Ty’s body stiffen. I look Jeremy right in the eye, and his smile fades.

“Hi, Lacey,” he says. “Ty.”

“Hey, Jeremy,” I say. Ty doesn’t move.

Jeremy’s eyes stay locked with mine for a beat, then he turns around and joins his friends in their raucous conversation as they disappear down the hall.

Ty and I look at each other then, and I wonder what he’s thinking. I’m thinking that it doesn’t seem fair for Jeremy to be hanging out, rehearsing for his role as a Demon Tour Guide, while Tessa is hidden away.

I say that to Ty, and he replies, “He’s hurting too, he just doesn’t know how to show it.”

“How can you tell?” I ask, marveling at how generous Ty seems.

“I can’t really,” he says modestly. “I’m just guessing that that guy has a lot on his mind. He’s not a robot, so he must be feeling something we can’t see, right?”

“Hmm, maybe,” I say.

Ty opens his mouth to say more, but I hear another sound.

“Lacey.”

Dad’s voice booms behind me, and the edge in his tone makes me stand up quickly.

“Hi, Dad,” I say.

“Hi, Mr. Byer,” says Ty, standing up beside me.

“I was just waiting for you—” I start, and at the same time Ty says, “I was just bringing Aunt Vivian some—”

We look at each other and laugh, but Dad doesn’t crack a smile.

“Let’s go,” Dad says to me. “Your mother’s got dinner ready.”

He brushes past us without another word, and I follow him, glancing back once to shrug at a sullen Ty. I don’t know what my dad has against him, other than the fact that he’s a boy sitting next to me on a bench.

On the car ride home, I want to ask my dad what’s going on, but the air feels thick around us. So I stay silent, wondering why, even though he’s just a foot away from me, it feels like the two of us are really far apart.

Chapter Sixteen

The next day after school, I go to the woods again. The weather’s nice, and it’s easy to get my homework done out here. Plus, I don’t have to feel the strain at home, or hear Mom’s sighs when I walk by her and up to my room without a word. Today, I tried to get Starla Joy to come too. Things at school have been intense for her, I know. Every day people are whispering, wondering about Tessa. I haven’t asked her much—I’m waiting for her to come to me when she wants to share something—but I was hoping she’d hang out today, get some fresh air.

“Being cooped up in church asking forgiveness for the sins of your sister isn’t productive,” I told her. And when she wondered how I knew that’s where she’d been, she seemed surprised to hear that Ty told me. She claimed she hadn’t even noticed him in church.

Even though it’s mean, that made me feel better—less envious that they’d been bonding without me. Truthfully, she has been a walking zombie this week. How can I blame her?

She wouldn’t come to the woods though—I couldn’t convince her. And so I settle onto the log with Dean, who’s already there and reading
A Separate Peace
by the time I arrive.

“I always thought ‘separate’ was spelled s-e-p-e-r-a-t-e,” Dean says.

“You’ve always been wrong,” I say, pulling out a notebook and my graphing calculator.

“Whatever,” he says. “I like this book though.”

“What’s it about?” I ask.

“Guys,” he says. “Friendships.”

I wait for him to explain more.

He smiles at me. “It might be about love too,” he says. “I’m not sure.”

I hear leaves crunching behind us, and Dean and I both turn toward the sound. Ty is high stepping his way over some low branches.

“What’s up?” Dean asks.

Ty smiles and settles onto the stump across from our log.

“I heard the light was good out here,” he says.

Dean looks over at me, and I start to blush. I’m glad Ty’s here.

“Hey, man,” Ty says, knocking Dean’s knee and getting his attention. “I’m sorry about what happened today.”

“Don’t be,” says Dean. “It was great.”

My ears perk up. “What happened today?” I ask.

“Yeah, but you’ll get it double tomorrow,” says Ty.

“Worth it,” Dean says, and they share a smile.

“Hello!” I shout, waving my hand in the air. “What happened today?”

“Nothing,” says Dean, returning to his book. Then, under his breath, he says, “Same old stupidity.”

I look over at Ty, but he’s still focused on Dean.

I lean toward Dean and put my hand in front of his book so he can’t read it. “Tell me,” I say.

“It happens every day,” he says. “Just jerks in gym.”

“What do they do?” I ask, feeling indignant.

“They call me stuff,” Dean says. “It’s dumb.”

“What do they call you?” I ask, wondering why Dean doesn’t talk about this with me, why boys keep these secrets.

“Fat, lazy, flannel, painted-nail geek,” Dean says, letting all the insults out in a rush.

“You censored that for Lacey,” says Ty.

“I know,” says Dean. “They don’t really say ‘geek.’ ” Then he smiles. “But today, Ty said something back.”

I put my anger on hold as I look over at Ty questioningly.

“I just reminded everyone of kindergarten, when Geoff Parsons begged and pleaded to play Mary in the children’s Nativity play,” he says, affecting an innocent voice. “Your dad let him be a sheep, but he still kept trying to hold the baby Jesus doll.”

“I remember.” I snicker.

“He carried that funky Cabbage Patch Kid around for a week!” Dean shouts through his laughter.

“It was Laura Bergen’s,” I add gleefully. “Her mom had to ask Geoff’s mom to make him give it back.”

“I told him he has amazing maternal instincts,” Ty says, slapping his knee and chuckling.

Dean tries to stifle a guffaw unsuccessfully. I haven’t heard his loud, free laugh very much in the last year, but there it is. And it’s so excellent that I keep giggling too. He leans forward and the log tilts with his weight shift, so both of us end up in the dirt. That just makes Ty laugh harder, so Dean reaches up and yanks him off his stump and onto the ground with us. We collapse into snorts again.

“What’s so funny?”

Starla Joy, in a peacock-blue shirt, her favorite jean skirt, and bright red lipstick, is standing above us. Despite her attempts at dressing cheerfully, she looks stern and sad. But when we tell her the Geoff Parsons story, she smiles a little. And then she claps her hand over her mouth. Dean and I reach for her arms, pulling her down to the ground so fast that her silver bracelets jangle loudly. She falls with us into the leaves, and it’s like the way we used to lie in a soft autumn pile and pretend it was a fancy feather bed.

There we are, four in the dappled sunlight. It feels like we’re as close as we’ve ever been, and I wish things could stay like this always.

Chapter Seventeen

“You’re in a good mood,” says Ty, sitting next to me.

“I am,” I affirm, smiling up at him. His head is in the perfect spot to block the sun as he looks down at me.

It was nice to have an afternoon where we forgot about Tessa, just for a moment. It’s not that I don’t want to think about her, it’s just that I wish I could turn back time and get the lightness of the past, even late summer, back.

There’s one spot where the tightness in my chest doesn’t ever bother me. I feel freer when I’m with Ty in Ulster Park. Up on that grassy hill we can say things to each other, talk about anything. Today we spread out the sleeping bag and I lie on my stomach, bending my knees and letting my feet kick in the air.

“Can I ask you about something?” Ty asks.

“Sure,” I say gamely, wondering what he wants to know that needs to be prefaced by
can I ask
.

“The ring you wear,” he says. “Is it—”

“TLW,” I say.

“TL what?” he asks, laughing.

I sit up and take off the silver band, handing it to Ty so he can see the lettering on it.

“True Love Waits,” I say. “It’s a purity ring. My dad got it for me when I turned fifteen.”

“So it’s a sex thing,” Ty says.

“Ew!” I say. “Did I not just say that my
dad
gave it to me?”

“You did,” he says. “Which makes it extra creepy.”

“Ty!” I shout. “Stop it.”

“I’m just kidding,” he says. “Sort of.”

“Well, I think it’s nice,” I say. “It’s a reminder that I’ve pledged to stay pure until marriage.”

I feel a blush creep into my cheeks when I say the word “pure.” No matter how comfortable I get around Ty, this subject makes me nervous. Maybe because of how much I want to kiss him sometimes.

“So did you take, like, an actual pledge?” asks Ty.

“Yeah,” I say. “We all signed it.”

“Who did?” asks Ty.

“Everyone,” I say. “Me, Starla Joy, Maryanne Duane, Laura Bergen—”

“Not the guys?” asks Ty, holding the ring out to me.

“Guys too,” I say, taking it back and slipping it on my finger. “But they don’t wear rings.”

“Ah,” says Ty. He lies back on the sleeping bag with his hands behind his head and gets that smug look in his eyes, like he’s purposefully making me confused about my purity ring.

“Well, the guys don’t want to wear jewelry!” I huff.

“Lacey,” Ty says, smiling at me, “I’m not trying to make you mad. I was just asking a question.”

And that’s the thing with Ty. He’s always asking questions. The kinds that keep me up at night, wondering.

Today, though, he doesn’t ask the question I expect him to. I keep thinking he’ll ask if Tessa signed the purity pledge. She did, of course. And so did Jeremy.

Things between my parents and me aren’t getting better. I’ve been spending more and more time in the woods with my friends. I feel safe there, almost back to normal, except when Starla Joy gets sad. It’s hard to take because her personality infuses everyone around her—it’s like her bright colors draw us in and repel us all at once.

Hell House rehearsals are getting more intense as September turns to October, but today is an off day. So Starla Joy and I are having girl time, without Dean or Ty, and it feels just like it used to … for a little while. We’re down in her basement with popcorn and the DVDs to
Dawson’s Creek
, this old show that has a really great love triangle.

“So you and Ty spend a lot of time together,” says Starla Joy when one of the boring parent scenes comes on.

I look over at her and smile. I’ve been waiting for her to ask me about Ty. I haven’t felt right bringing it up. For some reason it seems like we should be in mourning because of Tessa, and getting excited about a new relationship, or whatever it is, seems insensitive.

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