I’m done hiding.
Twenty-Two
“Welp, we want to thank you lot for being here tonight to help us out.” Pastor Rich, a tall, gawky white guy who definitely owns a collection of braided belts, turns to his wife, Sheila, and takes her hand. “We want this little church of ours to be a place for everyone, and we’re so happy to officially have the space to host Parenting with Pride. Hannah, it was so good of you to bring your friends.”
Hannah gives Pastor Rich two thumbs-up, which is honestly something I never thought I would see with my own two eyes.
“Sheila and I will be over in the chapel working on a few things, so come find us if you need anything.” Apparently, Grace Chapel didn’t always meet in a chapel. They used to meet in the shopping center in between Lonestar Tae Kwon Do Academy and Down for the Count, the boxing gym. But after years of saving, they were able to buy the dilapidated Clover City Church of Christ. The building behind the chapel houses a couple of classrooms, including the one where Parenting with Pride will be meeting.
Sheila, a short East Asian woman with round hips and rosycheeks, takes her husband’s hand. “Everything you should need is right over there in that corner. We’ve got drinks in a cooler and we’d love to order y’all some pizza later.”
I gulp loudly. This is starting to feel very much like youth group, which is very much not my scene.
The minute they’re gone, I turn to Hannah. “This feels like a trap.”
She laughs and starts to hand out brooms and trash bags. “Don’t worry. They won’t spritz you with holy water.”
“Pastor Rich and Miss Sheila are way nicer than my pastor and his wife,” Bekah says. “One time I wore spaghetti straps to church and Pastor Troy asked his wife to give me an extra choir robe so I wouldn’t tempt any of the men during service.”
“That’s disgusting,” Clementine says and pretends to retch.
Hannah playfully rolls her eyes at Clem, because I guess when you’re lovesick, everything your significant other does is adorable. “Hey, where’s Tucker?” she asks, suddenly aware that our numbers are down.
“He texted and said he was running late. He should be here soon.” I take a look around to survey the work ahead of us. Scum-covered windows. Broken blinds. Grimy floors littered with trash and moldy books. It’s a mess so bad that you have to wipe away dirt to more dirt and so on and so on until finally you reach the decaying surface.
I take a broom and Clem a trash bag while Hannah and Bekah start on the windows. We turn on some music, and after a little while, Willowdean and Amanda show upwith extra gloves in hand.
“Thanks for helping us out,” Hannah tells them.
“Any reason to escape my brothers for the night,” Amanda says.
Willowdean nods. “I don’t mind cleaning as long as it’s not my room. Or anything adjacent to my room.”
“That’s a mood I can get into,” I say.
We all fan out into different parts of the room. After a few minutes of working, Willowdean lets out a sigh.
Amanda puts an arm around her. “You could try talking to him again.”
Willowdean pulls a latex glove over her hand. “It’s kind of hard to talk to someone who’s not talking back to you.”
Hannah snaps her fingers in agreement.
“I don’t get it,” I say. “You’re mad because he invited you to prom?”
Willowdean begins to pluck trash off the ground and put it into the trash bag Amanda is holding out for her. “He’s so hot and cold. One minute, he’s ghosting me, and the next, he’s doing these huge grand gestures like asking me to prom in front of a restaurant full of people. We would be at work and he would just run off after our shift when we would normally hang out, or he would be busy texting other people when he’d invited me over, and when I asked if it was another girl, he was, like, offended that I’d even think that. What else was I supposed to think? And now prom is coming up and I don’t have a date and I never thought I’d ever care about that, but I guess I do.” Her nostrils flare as she lets out a loud huff.
“If it makes you feel less alone, I am very, very much dateless and I’d love to hang with you at prom,” I tell her.
“Me too!” says Amanda. “It’ll be great. We’ll all be together. Why is it that we work so hard to get through twelve years of school and somehow the pinnacle of it all depends on whether or not you have a date for one random night?”
“She’s not wrong,” I say.
Amanda tips her invisible cap to me.
Willowdean musters a smile and nods. “Thanks, y’all.”
“Cherry Bomb” comes on through the speaker, letting me know this is definitely Clem’s playlist, and Hannah cranks the volume up. “Less talk. More work!”
