The benediction was as long as ever, padded with additional prayers for I don’t know what. I couldn’t even pretend I was paying attention at that point. I was Prayer Peeking again, zeroed in on Kiera, still thinking my plan could work. Further down her pew, two arms raised. Wide at first, before crossing into an X, then wide again. Jameer Sesay, Prayer Peeking like me. At me. Trying to get my attention.

He shook his head. Mouthed something. It looked like Don’t do it.

“Amen!” Pastor Newsome said, the band giving us a free-to-leave musical cue. Everyone stood, and white-gloved ushers got to work extinguishing candles with brass snuffers. Mom shook hands with folks around us. Some patted me on the back for joining Purity Pledge. A thin sea of people parted as Jameer wedged his way toward me.

I told Mom, “Be right back.”

Skirting around folks, I met him halfway, all while flicking glances at the Westings. Didn’t want this interruption messing up my operation.

Jameer was a little shorter than me. Way skinnier, with a Gloworm’s complexion. He wore black-framed glasses, and pristine suits with his neckties done in intricate knots.

We’d only exchanged “what up” nods in passing. So, when he slapped my palm, and pulled me into a bro-hug, I thought this was more Purity Pledge nonsense. But, he whispered in my ear, “I know what you’re thinking. Don’t. Bad timing.”

I backed out of the hug, stomach churning again.

“Yeah,” he said, “I’m talking about her.”

The Westings were in the foyer shaking hands. The group gathered around Kiera was thicker than usual, giving her arm extra pumps of encouragement. I was missing my in.

Jameer laughed. Laughed. “You look so thirsty. Let me guess. You’re thinking she broke up with Colossus. You need to rush in, right now, profess your undying love.”

“How did you—?”

“Please. You and half the school. Three guys already asked her to prom.”

Three? Prom was nine months away. And I was going to take her. Bet that!

“Relax,” Jameer said, “they all got noes. You’re going to get a no if you don’t listen to me.”

My head was all over the place. The other times I’d waited and lost. Three prom invitations? In less than twenty-four hours? “How you know any of this? Why tell me?”

“Walk with me.” He took the aisle to the pulpit, where a couple of deaconesses tipped collection plates into buckets, the loose change clattering. The crowd in the foyer thinned. Pastor Newsome worked through a few straggler parishioners, his dark robe swishing, patting backs en route for the Westings. If I was going to execute my plan, it had to be now.

Jameer’s warning, though.

He swung a sharp right and took a side door outside. I rushed after him, emerged in a grassy, fenced-in side yard. A swing set, slide, and monkey bars occupied a rectangular patch with a plank-board border, filled end to end with crunchy broken seashells that definitely have skinned and definitely will skin knees. Giggling young kids with sleepy-looking young parents played. They all waved at Jameer and he waved back as I caught up, in time to see a couple of parents turn their children away from my new friend.