The hell?

It wasn’t what she said, as much as how she said it. Her voice as cold as summertime A/C.

Sister Vanessa waited on my response. I’d already forgotten the verses, so how was I going to BS my way through this?

Jameer came with the save. “They’re about pure hearts, and that’s what we’re all here for.”

If Sister Vanessa minded the interruption, she didn’t let on. “Excellent, Jameer! Pure hearts lead to pure souls lead to pure bodies. Please, you two, sit down.”

Kiera re-joined the still-giggling girls, scowling at me. I returned to my seat.

“We’ve got much to cover in our sessions,” Sister Vanessa said. “We’re going to have so much fun.” She lifted a cardboard box that had been resting against the wall. Starting on the girls’ side, she circled the room, passing out glue sticks and colorful plastic kid scissors.

Hush-voiced and a little frightened, I said, “What is this?”

“Wait for it,” said Jameer.

Sister Vanessa put the box away, approached a table stacked with the kinds of magazines you see in doctors’ offices, about gardening and world events. Several pieces of blank poster board sat beside them. “Everyone, I want you to grab a poster board and a magazine. We’re all going to find pictures of things we think represent purity and make Covenant Collages!”

Across the room Mya squinted, and turned an ear toward Sister Vanessa like she’d misheard the direction. Her nose crinkled like she detected a bad smell. Jameer smirked and shook his head, the smug look of someone who’d predicted the worst possible outcome and been proven right. Similar cool, confused reactions played on everyone’s faces, with the exception of Kiera. She obediently led the charge, rallying the girls. “Come on. Like Sister Vanessa said.”

They complied, and it occurred to me that me, Kiera, Jameer, and Mya were the elders of this purity class. All of the other girls were underclassmen at Green Creek High. Ralph and Bobby were still eighth graders at Baldwin Middle School.

Kiera’s intense gaze swept my way. Not as angry as before, probably because she wasn’t looking at me. Her attention was on Jameer. She made a jerky nod toward the magazines.

Jameer heavy-sighed, and pushed up from his seat slow, like a weightlifter squatting his max. “Come on, little duckies. Follow the leader.”

He lined up behind the girls, the twins followed, then me. We collected our arts-and-crafts materials for an activity that felt suited for seven-year-olds. With Thanksgiving coming up, maybe we’d get to do handprint turkeys, too.

DEL

Written in graffiti-styled block letters at the top of my board, headlining snipped photos of a man jogging on the beach at sunrise, and a sweet red Mustang, and a business meeting. After flipping through the magazine three times for those pictures, I started cutting anything that didn’t have a hot girl in it.

The door creaked. Pastor Newsome stepped into the room. I’d seen him up close before, but always in the burgundy Emperor Palpatine robes he wore in the pulpit, towering over the congregation. In his high-waisted khakis with the tucked-in golf shirt, he looked like a professor. A tiny one.