Our Own Private Universe. Robin TalleyЧитать онлайн книгу.
“Hey, Jake.”
Jake, it turned out, was really, really chatty. He kept trying to ask me questions about the people who went to my church and about the national conference that was coming up at the end of the summer for all the Holy Life churches. I knew absolutely nothing about the conference, so I mostly nodded while Jake talked.
It actually turned out to be kind of cool hanging out with new people—people who didn’t automatically see me as a music-dork preacher’s kid—but even so, I couldn’t focus. I wanted to talk to Christa again. She was funny. And I liked how her eyes caught the light.
Lori came over and motioned to me, so I apologized to Jake and got up. It was good to have an excuse to get away. It was hard to think clearly with so much happening around me.
I followed Lori through the courtyard’s tall, swinging wooden door. A patch of gravel ran behind the row of houses and faded into dirt as the hills rose up behind the edge of town. Lori and I walked out a few yards past the gravel into the pitch-black night so we could talk without anyone hearing us. It took all my energy to focus on Lori instead of those stars again.
She wanted to tell me about the blond guy she’d spotted earlier. She’d found an excuse to talk to him. It turned out his name was Paul, and he went to Christa’s church in Rockville.
“He’s going to be a senior at King,” Lori said. “He has a car and everything. A Toyota.”
“Do you like him?”
“Uh-huh. He’s really cute and funny. Plus, older guys are more mature, you know?”
“Do you mean mature, like, emotionally, or mature, like, he’s done it?”
“Oh, shut it.” Lori giggled. I did, too. “I took a picture of us goofing around. Want to see?”
Lori took out her phone and showed me a poorly framed photo of her and Paul sticking their tongues out at the camera. It made me think of Christa and her gorgeous photography. I flushed, glad it was dark so Lori couldn’t see.
“Do you think you’ll ask him out or something?” I said.
“I don’t know. What is there to even do around here? Maybe we’ll just hang out at the volunteer site. And find someplace to sneak off to when the time is right.”
We both laughed again.
We were supposed to start work tomorrow. None of us were sure exactly what that meant. We’d come here to do construction on a church that the local congregation had already started building. None of us knew the first thing about construction, but my dad and the other chaperones said they’d teach us. I only hoped they didn’t make me climb ladders. I was afraid of heights.
My back felt stiff from sitting on the ground, so I stood on my tiptoes and stretched my arms over my head, arching my spine so my braids hung straight down. This time, I couldn’t resist gazing up at the stars. They were closer out here than they were within the stone courtyard walls.
In that moment, it felt like we were the entire world. Just me and those gorgeous stars.
It was colder out here, too, away from the lights of the houses. We weren’t really in the desert, even though that was what I’d expected when I signed up to come to Mexico. Here there were trees and stuff, and it had been hot during the day but not that hot. Now that it was dark, it was only sixty-something degrees.
I lowered myself back down from my toes and rubbed my bare arms, wishing I’d worn more than my T-shirt and jeans. Then I remembered my missing suitcase. I didn’t have anything else to wear.
“We’re going into town on Saturdays, right?” I asked Lori. “Maybe you and Paul could do something while we’re there.”
“Or maybe you and that girl could.” Lori smirked.
“Oh, whatever.” But I couldn’t help smiling.
I wasn’t sure if lesbians even went on dates. Did anyone, really? I’d been on one official date in my entire life, to a dance at a school I didn’t go to with a blue-haired guy who threw up because he drank a beer.
I’d wondered what it would be like to have a real boyfriend. Maybe a girlfriend, too. Someday.
Just the idea of a girlfriend seemed like it was from a whole different life. I mean, even if Christa had been flirting with me back in the courtyard, that didn’t mean she actually wanted to go out with me. She must’ve been able to tell I didn’t know anything about being gay.
Heck, she probably thought I was straight. I might as well have been, for all I’d done so far.
Was Christa bi, too? Maybe she was into Rodney. Or someone else. Maybe she hadn’t really been flirting with me at all.
“So do you like her?” Lori asked me.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe?”
“I knew it!” Lori pumped her fist. “I could so tell when you were looking at her before.”
“It doesn’t matter. She isn’t interested.”
“How do you know?”
I shrugged. There was no reason someone like Christa would want someone like me. I’d never even kissed a girl.
It wasn’t as if I didn’t want to. Lately, kissing was all I thought about. Boys. Girls. My daydreams didn’t discriminate.
That was where my theory had really gotten started.
Christa had probably kissed tons of girls. And done more than kiss.
I’d been daydreaming about that a lot lately, too.
“You’re smiling again,” Lori said.
“Oh, shut it. Hey, do you think—”
Before I could finish, Lori clapped her hand over my mouth and held her finger to her lips, her eyes bulging. Now that we were quiet, I could hear it, too. Gravel crunching behind me, then footsteps on the dirt.
“Hi, you guys,” a voice said.
I turned. It was too dark to get a good look from this distance. But I knew it was Christa.
“Hey there.” Lori was grinning, as usual. “I’m glad you came out here. I wanted to ask you something.”
Oh, no. I was too far away to elbow Lori, so I glared at her. She ignored me.
“Shoot.” Christa was close enough now that I could see a design on the inside of her wrist. It looked like a tattoo, but I could’ve sworn it wasn’t there when I’d seen her in the courtyard earlier. It was purple. Some kind of complicated knot.
Lori lowered her voice. “You’re into girls, right?”
My eyes jerked up. I couldn’t believe Lori said things like that. I would never say something like that to someone she had a crush on. But Christa didn’t seem to mind.
“For sure,” she said. “But don’t tell my parents, okay?”
“Deal.” Lori laughed. “So what kind of girls do you like? You know, generally. Tall, short, long hair, short hair...”
Christa glanced over at me. I tried to smile, but my face felt all wobbly. I shifted from one foot to the other. Why did Lori have to be this way? Why?
“I think,” Christa said slowly, “right now, if I were to describe exactly the kinds of girls I like, I’d say...tall, with long hair, in braids. With big dark eyes and pretty smiles. Oh, and I especially have a thing for preacher’s daughters who wear vintage hip-hop T-shirts.”
I beamed and tugged on one of my braids. I’d worn my favorite Usher shirt on the plane. It was only three years old, so it didn’t exactly qualify as vintage, and Usher wasn’t so much hip-hop as R&B with some light hip-hop influences. But I did not care even the tiniest bit about