My phone kept vibrating.

Barq’s was done. I swapped the Orange Fanta, and the Caffeine-Free Diet Coke, then closed up shop, crawling out of the cupboard. “Done.”

Not that there were any customers to appreciate it.

Mya, gracious, said, “Since we’re slow, I’ll take care of the front-line condiments for you. First Missionary Crew!”

She raised her hand for a high five, and I slapped her palm even though I thought the greeting was corny. One of Jameer’s tips was “embrace the corniness.” First Missionary Crew!

While Mya refilled my tartar sauce and ketchup packets, I checked my phone for this week’s haul.

Jameer: New Qs from the PPers

1—What should I smell like? Down there.

2—How long should erections last?

3—Should I get tingly when I watch the morning news with my parents? Specifically when it’s channel 12 and meteorologist Ashley Eubanks is on?

4—What about feet?

“Feet?” The questions had gotten so much stranger lately. I had a gut feeling the weirdest ones were coming from Ralph and Bobby, thus them gushing about how great I was to whoever would listen. Nobody else was entertaining their fetish-y urges.

I wondered how Jameer even managed to do this with his parents clocking everything he did. He proudly explained that their insistence on such a low-tech phone is what gave him the freedom to harass me. They couldn’t put any parental spy apps on a phone that old. All he had to do was delete his messages after he sent them. Sneaky. And annoying.

“You started this,” Mya said, popping open a fresh box of cocktail sauce packets, referring to my Healthy Living double-agent duties.

Pocketing my phone, I knelt with her, transferred packets from the box to the bins beneath my register. “Just because you said you hadn’t sent questions to Jameer before doesn’t mean you didn’t change your mind. For all I know, it’s you asking about feet.”

“Nope. Not even close. I don’t have to tiptoe—pun intended—around my curiosity like the rest of them. I have working Wi-Fi. Also, I guess I’m not that curious about sex stuff. Not the way everyone else seems to be.”

“Why not?”

She shrugged. “After everything with the pregnancies, I don’t know, sex seems like more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Is that the Purity Pledge talking?”

“No. It’s not. But if it was, would it be a bad thing? I mean, you’ve really been crushing all of the scriptures and activities lately. So sex must not be a huge deal for you either if you stopped doing it and are focusing on a different path.”

“Yeah,” I said, uncomfortable skirting around the topic of my “reputation” pre–Purity Pledge. “You have a point. Is that why you don’t take Healthy Living at school?”

Mya shook her head. “That was Pastor’s call. My mom was going to sign the permission slip until he preached against it. I wasn’t that excited about it, anyway. I like playing basketball during gym.”

Of all the new conversations and connections between me and Mya, we hadn’t really discussed this. “Why did Newsome tell the church not to let anyone take it?”