“No, sir.”

“Kiera Westing is a shining star here at First Missionary. Whatever boy is going to live up to her Holy Father’s standard, her earthly father’s standard”—he patted his chest by his heart—“her pastor’s standard, will need to be a shining star, too.”

Slow anger bled into my discomfort.

“Mr. Rainey, I’ve been very clear with my congregation about the evils of that class. It’s been the exact wrong reaction to the pregnancy pact.”

“There wasn’t a pact.”

“Excuse me?” His smile slipped. Neither one of us was doing very good by our Harvest Fest masks at that point.

“Nothing.”

“As I was saying, I’m not completely comfortable with you participating in both the Purity Pledge and that sex class. I’ve overlooked it because my niece says you’ve been doing well, but I’m on the fence about how far I should let you go. There’s no telling what sort of corruption they’re infecting you with. I simply need more information to evaluate. Understand?”

“It sounds like you’re saying if I don’t tell you about Healthy Living, you’re going to kick me out of Purity Pledge.”

He pressed his pen to his pad. “Shall we continue our talk?”

It wasn’t our talk. It was my talk. About all we’d covered in Healthy Living. Babies. Diseases. Contraception.

Newsome interrupted me. “Mister Jay is encouraging you to seek contraceptives?”

“MJ’s not saying go out and buy a bunch of condoms. Just that you should have them if you’re going to do something where you’d need condoms.”

He wrote down way more than what I’d said.

“Does Mister Jay stick strictly to the approved curriculum?”

“Yes.”

“You said it isn’t boring all the time.”

“That’s not exactly what I—”

“How does Mister Jay liven up the curriculum? Consider your response carefully, because I’ll have much to think about once we’re done.”

Get up. Walk out. What could he do to stop you, Del?

All the work I’d done to win Purity Pledge, though. A word from him, and I was done. My best connection to Kiera severed.

And, it wasn’t like there was any real dirt on MJ. “He lets us ask questions. Like, if something was confusing, or wasn’t covered, he’ll talk to us about it.”

“Wasn’t covered? Like what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do. Don’t lie to me in my house, Mr. Rainey.”

I thought it was the Lord’s House. I should’ve said it. I didn’t. “I mean, like, he’s got a kid, and we asked him about how that was. If it was hard like the lessons say it would be.”

“He discusses his personal life with you children?”

“He answers our questions.”

Newsome rocked back in his chair, fingers steepled under his chin. Then, he rotated his chair toward his monitor, awaking his computer, and typing into a blank document. “I look forward to speaking with you again soon. Close the door on the way out, and have a blessed night.”

That was it?

A good forty-five minutes had passed. Bobby and Ralph were no longer in the sanctuary. Remaining were adult volunteers who tipped tables onto their sides, folding the legs flat beneath, stacked gray aluminum chairs on a rolling cart, or swept the limp remains of ruptured balloons into dustpans. Upbeat gospel music cranked through the sound system.