Page 40 of The Sun
The crinkle of the newspaper caught my attention just before Daddy cleared his throat. “I hear Elias is at your school.” He peered over the Sports section.
The rim of the mug was to my lips, and I hoped it hid the shock I felt taking over my face. The first sip of coffee scalded my tongue, but I swallowed it anyway. “Oh. Uh. Yeah.”
“Weren’t gonna tell me?” He straightened in the chair, laid the paper down, then clasped his hands over it.
“Well, I mean. Why would I? It’s just a guy a used to be friends with.”
That comment did not amuse my daddy. He took an uneasy, halfway ashamed breath. “You two have a. . .history.” The way he said that word made it sound dirty and wrong.
Momma turned on the faucet and started to scrub the sink. Her way of ignoring or avoiding I guessed.
“I haven’t talked to him in three years, Daddy.”Liar! He was in your room less than an hour ago.
Daddy stared straight at me until I feared he would call bullshit. “Mmm.”
“So, I just figured it didn’t matter. You know?”
I hoped my face wasn’t as flushed as it felt, that he didn’t notice my pulse thumping in my neck. Most of all, I prayed he wouldn’t see through the lie, because it did matter.
It was the most important matter ever to exist in my life.
“I don’t want you getting mixed up with that boy, Sunny. You hear me? He’s bad news.”
I focused on the ironically mocking quote painted on the wall behind him:The fondest memories are made when gathered around the table. I wanted to ask him why he cared. Why, if he thought Elias was so awful, did he open his home up to foster kids. Most foster children were from similar situations. Most of all, I wanted to call him a hypocrite. But the best thing I could do was make him believe I didn’t care.
Nodding, I took a sip of my coffee then said, “Okay.”
I heard the nearly silent breath Momma released just before Simon looped back through the kitchen.
Daddy took his cup to the sink and gave my mother a soft kiss, his hand sweeping over her cinched waist before he grabbed his gun from the counter and secured it in his holster.
Maybe he believed I’d stay away fromthat boy,or maybe I just believed that boy intended to stay away from me, and that’s why Daddy was so easily convinced.
I, however, had no intentions on staying away. At all.
I fellasleep in church that Sunday.
Well, nodded off would be more appropriate. Daisy’s dad just had this monotone voice, like the teacher fromFerris Bueller’s Day off.Bueller. Bueller. Bueller.It was enough to make anyone take a nap.
Luckily, Daisy nudged me in the ribs, and my eyes popped open before she leaned over and whispered, “Just so you know, I didn’t have sex with Ben the other night.”
I kept my eyes trained on the pulpit. “O-kay.”
“I mean, we fooled around but nothing serious, you know? More or less dry humping.”
Closing my eyes, I shook my head. “You realize that’s your father up there”—I nodded toward the altar—“talking about Sodom and Gomora?”
“Yeah, the immorality thing is what made me think about Ben.”
I facepalmed at that. “You’ve got issues.”
Momma leaned around Simon and Bobby, shooting us both the kind of I-mean-business-stare that could make a serial killer’s blood run cold. She snapped her fingers, frowning when she pointed at Pastor Fulmer. Sighing, I settled back on the pew. I took one of the gray donation envelopes and a pen from the hymnal shelf, checking to make sure Momma’s attention was back on the sermon. I scribbled out:You’re going to helland passed it to Daisy while I stifled a giggle.
She shrugged her shoulders like she couldn’t care less.
When she passed the note back to me, it said:That’s where all the cool kids go anyway. According to Kurt Cobain.
She crossed herself in honor of the late rock god. That girl was concerned about popularity even in the afterlife. Oddly enough, the message finished on a hellfire and brimstone take away: We’re all going to hell unless we repent.
