She said, “You better.”

“See you in school tomorrow.” Then he spun on his heels, jogged to his sisters. No bye for me, huh, Mason?

The twin girls, maybe nine or ten years old, in costumes that seemed like Disney princesses, though I couldn’t tell from which movies, squealed their disappointment when he told them it was time to go. He was stern, not mean, and Kiera watched the interaction the way an animal lover watched sloth videos on YouTube.

Enough.

I said, “Pastor wants us to get together.”

Her chin whipped my way with ample speed to cause a neck injury. “What?”

“To discuss ideas for our final Purity Pledge presentation. The week-eight assignment.” I didn’t know where it was coming from. It was like my tongue belonged to someone else, something else.

Was this divine intervention?

“You’re thinking about the week-eight assignment already?”

“Pastor said we should.”

“That’s what he wanted to talk to you about?”

“Yes.” Smooth. No hesitation. “Since we’re sort of the elders, he suggested we start brainstorming. I’m kind of busy with my new tutoring gig, but I was thinking Friday night. Mama Marian’s downtown.”

She blinked rapidly, as if I’d shined a bright light in her face. “Umm, okay.”

I whipped my phone out, held it to her. “Let me get your number.”

“If Pastor says so.” Spooked, blindsided, and stunned, she still did exactly what I said, punching in the seven digits. I immediately hit the Call button, and she jumped, startled by her phone buzzing in her back pocket.

I said, “Now you’ve got my number, too. We’ll be talking much more.” I raised my hand for the customary Purity Pledge high five.

She slapped my palm sheepishly. “First Missionary Crew!”

Damn right.

Me and Kiera didn’t speak much the rest of that night. Actually, I didn’t speak much to anybody the rest of that night. Not Jameer. Not Mom and Dad. Not Qwan when he sent his texts asking me how it went. Despite that absolutely genius chess move I pulled from thin air to finally get a date with Kiera, Harvest Fest felt more like a fail than anything. It wasn’t because of Mason—who was definitely a problem, but one that could be solved. Weirdly enough, the thoughts that made me toss and turn that night were about Healthy Living, and MJ.

I’d told the truth. That shouldn’t be wrong, but the truth could be a weapon depending on who used it.

That wasn’t Bible, but it was the kind of thought that would fit right in.

What was the worst Newsome could do with that info I gave him? In English class the next day, I got my answer.

We had a substitute. MJ never showed. I was too scared to ask anyone if they knew why.

In the gym, there was a sign posted on the classroom corridor: HEALTHY LIVING POSTPONED, DRESS OUT FOR YOUR REGULAR GYM CLASS.

It could be coincidence, right? Maybe MJ was sick.