Page 3 of Holly Jolly Heresy
“If you really want to.”
“That zealot is making me swapMacbethforRomeo and Julietbecause he doesn’t like the ‘unsex me’ scene. Between that and the way he’s been treating Alex…” She cut herself off, pressing her lips together, and snapped the lid on her Tupperware before sliding it back into the padded lunch bag at her feet.
Caleb wanted to ask what she meant about Alex. The quiet senior mostly kept to himself, and Caleb couldn’t imagine a scenario that would have put the honor roll student at odds with the principal.
“This is the only chance I’m going to have to take something away from Bruce,” Molly said.
“You’re a petty, evil genius.”
Molly dipped her head in acknowledgment, her lips curling up in a grin that matched his own.
They stared at each other for a moment through the opening between the booths, grinning like fools, and Caleb’s heart thudded painfully in his chest, straining against his ribcage.
The shrill ring of the school bell sounded, signaling the end of the lunch period and pulling him back to reality.
“I better get back to my classroom.” Molly reached for her lunch bag. “Tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow. Meet me at the church at nine?”
“See you then.” She got to her feet and paused with her hand on the door to the confessional, almost as though she had something else to say, but thought better of it. Instead, she dipped her head again, her soft smile turning almost sad. “Father West.”
His own smile fell, and when he said her name, it was more like a prayer than any words he’d said in weeks. “Ms. Proulx.”
Chapter two
December 22nd
“Would you rather never eat pizza again, or only eat pizza for the rest of your life?” Molly asked, tossing another gummy bear from the bag in the cupholder into her mouth.
“Easy. Never eat pizza again,” Caleb said.
“Seriously? You know your answer that fast?”
“There are so many foods in the world. You’d trade them all for pizza?” He glanced at her as he steered the car into the center travel lane of the highway and adjusted the cruise control. They’d been driving for a little over an hour and a half and traffic was moving slowly, but at least it was moving. And if a few extra cars on the road meant Molly got a few extra minutes with Caleb, well, she didn’t exactly mind.
“There are so many different kinds of pizza, though. You’ve got your classics—pepperoni, eggplant, margherita—”
“I’m familiar.” He smirked, the corner of his mouth kicking up in a way that should not have been adorable but was completely irresistible all the same.
Get it together, Molly. He’s a priest for Christ’s sake.
“And then you have your breakfast pizzas.”
“Is that like a breakfast burrito?”
“Similar concept. Fewer beans.”
He chuckled, the sound low and rich, like molasses.
“And you can’t forget dessert pizzas.”
“Dessert pizzas,” he repeated as though he thought he had misheard her.
“The Pizza Stone makes one with Nutella, sliced strawberries, and whipped cream. It’s incredible.”
“That’s not pizza.”
“Anything’s pizza if you put it on a pizza crust.”
