Small Town Sinners Part 12

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 s.e.x 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.

h.e.l.l 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 bas.e.m.e.nt 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 relations.h.i.+p, or whatever it is, seems insensitive.

"I know," I say. Then I add, "I really, really like him."

"Do you guys still go to the old playground all the time?" asks Starla Joy.

"Maybe a couple of times a week," I say, being coy.

She raises her eyebrows at me and then wiggles them up and down.

"Starla Joy!" I throw a pillow at her. "We talk there. For hours and hours."

I can feel that my grin is Grand Canyon big.

"What do you talk about?" she asks.

"Our beliefs," I say. "Our dreams, our fears."

"Sounds like a philosophy cla.s.s," she says.

"It's nice," I say. "It feels like real talking. Like the kind we do in church on a really good sermon day. The kind that makes me think about the world and my place in it."

"And when you're not talking, what do you do?" she asks with her evil Demon Tour Guide face.

"We share silences!" I say.

"Oh, Lacey, boooring," she says. "Are you telling me that Ty Davis hasn't kissed you yet?"

"He hasn't," I say. Then I think about whether I want to talk about this, and I realize that I do, I really do. So I say, "But I think he will soon!"

Starla Joy squees with delight and I join her.

"Girls, are you okay?" Mrs. Minter calls from upstairs.

"We're fine, Mom!" shouts Starla Joy. Then she whispers to me, "Tell me the minute it happens."

"I will," I promise.

"It sounds really sweet, Lacey," she says, smiling brightly. And then, just as suddenly, her smile fades.

That's been her thing lately-from smiles to distress in under two seconds. I know what she's thinking about.

"How's Tessa doing?" I ask.

"She's okay," says Starla Joy, picking at the blue cotton blanket she's pulled up around her legs. "Saint Angeles isn't so bad."

"That's good," I say. "Is she, um, happy?"

"She likes it when Mom and I visit," says Starla Joy.

I know they've been going every weekend, even though it's four hours away by car, which must be nice for Tessa.

"But I think she wishes Jeremy would show up," Starla Joy continues. Then she purses her lips.

"He hasn't visited?" I ask, incredulous.

She shakes her head no.

"Not even once?" I ask.

"Nope," she says.

"That's not right," I say.

"None of the fathers are ever there," she says. "It's weird. The place is all teenage mothers and the women who help them out, like church volunteers and counselors."

"Does Tessa have anything to do while she's there, like during the week?" I ask.

"She has a tutor who gets her a.s.signments from school so she won't fall behind," she answers.

"That's great!" I say, trying to make the tone of this conversation more upbeat. "I had no idea they did that."

"Yeah," says Starla Joy, not looking at me. "They also have art cla.s.ses, and even a pastor on hand to talk to the girls there about why their decision is one made in the light of Christ."

"How awesome," I say. "That must really help her."

"Sure," says Starla Joy. "She'll come back to school next semester with all her work completed and some new oil paint skills, just like nothing ever happened."

"Cool!" I say enthusiastically, trying to be positive. But then I realize my fake-happy energy isn't exactly matching Starla Joy's mellowness right now, and I get quiet again.

"Um, so is she feeling okay?" I ask, still glad that Starla Joy's opening up, even just a little.

"Physically, Tessa's fine," she says. Then she smiles a little. "We got to see a sonogram of the baby this weekend."

"That's so sweet," I say.

"It's a girl," says Starla Joy.

"Ooh, does she have a name?" I ask.

"I think that's the adoptive family's thing," says Starla Joy, her face darkening again.

"Oh, right," I say, feeling bad for bringing it up. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"It's okay," says Starla Joy. Then she looks up at me and grabs my hand. "Lacey, listen, I don't want you to be scared around me."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"I know everyone at church and school is afraid to talk to me about Tessa, like if they ask too much about her, they'll get pregnant too or catch some crazy s.l.u.t disease," she says. Then she laughs ruefully before getting serious again. "She's still Tessa, you know. She's still my sister and not some monster."

"Of course," I say. "I love Tessa no matter what."

"I know," she says. "I just wonder what other people think. I hear them saying things about our family."

I look away, thinking about what my parents have said and the thoughts I've let enter my own mind. About Tessa, about her sin. But even in my confusion, I've always felt in my heart that this isn't about Tessa being a bad person or Starla Joy's family being somehow deficient.

I look back in her direction and squeeze her hand. She wipes away a tear that's crept into the corner of one eye, threatening her electric-blue mascara.

Then, as quickly as it came on, Starla Joy's vulnerability is gone. She smiles with her bright pink lips and laughs.

"Let's watch the episode where Pacey tells Joey he loves her!" she says, suddenly giddy.

"Sure," I say. "Cue it up."

That night, I lie in bed and stare at my glow-in-the-dark stars, the ones my dad and I put up there together when I was six years old. I mimed my way through dinner again, answering my parents' softball questions about whether my English quiz went well with a nod and a half-hearted smile. Well, it did go well, because I really liked The Great Gatsby.

And now, as I lie here with my iPod docked and playing my mellow playlist, I'm thinking about Saint Angeles. It's weird to me that it's a house of women, where the men just don't visit. I guess I think that Jeremy, who was raised within our church community, should be different. Even if the other fathers aren't there-maybe the ones who don't care about the girls or their responsibilities, or the ones who weren't raised with Jesus as an example-Jeremy should know better. We've been going to the same church all of our lives. Matthew 7:12 is one of the first verses we were taught in Sunday school: "So in everything, do to others what you would have them do to you." I bet he wouldn't like to be sitting there alone in Saint Angeles without Tessa.

The more I think about it, the angrier I get. Why aren't his parents making him visit Saint Angeles? I think about Pastor Frist's sermons about righteousness and spreading G.o.d's goodwill. Doesn't Tessa deserve some of that, too?

I fall into an uneasy sleep without dreams, and I toss and turn all night.

Chapter Eighteen.

My parents have dropped the notion that I might find some new friends, thank goodness, but I've noticed that the h.e.l.l House rehearsal schedule is amped up this year-we're now doing four rehearsals a week, double last year's schedule-which leaves little time for me to have a social life. On my paranoid days I wonder if the extra rehearsals are designed to keep me under my dad's surveillance.

Both Dean and Starla Joy have their own burdens-Starla Joy with Tessa's situation and Dean with Geoff Parsons and his friends, who are ever present, no matter how much Ty stands up for him.

Somehow, though, I find time to meet Ty in Ulster Park. We haven't said it out loud-but it's a spot where no one really goes, so we can be alone.

We're here today after school, and I know my parents think I'm with Starla Joy and Dean. They never ask where I am, they just a.s.sume, and that makes it easier because I don't have to lie to them.

This afternoon it's a little cloudy and cooler-fall is definitely in the air.

"Starla Joy said her mom got three Tupperware bowls full of food yesterday," I tell Ty.

He laughs and picks a blade of gra.s.s. "That's the church ladies' way, right?" he asks.

"Yeah," I say. "It's nice, I guess. I just always wonder if they're giving, like, emotional support too."

"You mean culinary support isn't enough for you, Lacey Anne?" Ty asks, and he looks up at me with a sarcastic smile, like he understands what I mean.

"I just keep thinking about what G.o.d would want," I say. "I think he'd want people to do more than bake for the Minters."

"I'm sure he wouldn't want the behind-the-back talk Starla Joy has to deal with at school," Ty says.