Not So Pure and Simple: Chapters 1–5

So, each of the last four weeks inevitably gave way to a moment of temptation where I wanted to gnaw my arm off, dive through a stained-glass window, then Usain Bolt my way home, yet I endured.

Though, if I was being honest, there was another incentive for my continued attendance. Kiera Westing.

On sunny days, the eastern glass turned outside light rainbow and doused chunks of the congregation in paintball colors. All our varying shades of brown got psychedelic.

Missus Baines, the old lady in the pew ahead of me, who shambled in with a cane every week, and smelled like the inventor of cigarettes and peppermints, turned Oompa-Loompa orange.

If she’d watched him drain his spit valves—think waterslide—something I witnessed during my brief stint as a band xylophonist, she probably wouldn’t have found it all that sexy.

It drew the attention of my sister, my parents, a TSA agent coming off her lunch break, and some lady’s toddler, who immediately started machine-gunning the four-letter word I’d released into the ether.

Really, he was on the date with some girl named Erin or Erica, engaging in backseat debauchery while I drove and my uninterested date, whose name I don’t even remember, rode shotgun.

My plan: after service, I’d catch the Westings in the foyer, where they hovered every Sunday, shaking hands and exchanging niceties—“have a blessed week, brother” and “have a blessed week, sister.”

When she stepped to the pulpit, she reached for the mic, an act that seemed to make Newsome uncomfortable enough to abruptly cease his hallelujahs.

He gave her the “wait a minute” finger. One final, emphatic “Hallelujah.” Then he handed over the mic.

My heart rammed my sternum in the silence that followed.

Her answer was comprehensive. Debate team worthy.

She got those good chastity belt cheers, same as me, and the mic went down the line.

“—these young people will be ambassadors of God serving as positive influences for their peers and the community at large. The course culminates with our Purity Ball, where the parents, and any of you in the congregation who wish to attend, can bear witness as they pledge, before the Lord, abstinence until the day they’re married. I’m so excited, by—”

The benediction was as long as ever, padded with additional prayers for I don’t know what.

He wore black-framed glasses, and pristine suits with his neckties done in intricate knots.

Because I’ve seen you looking all enamored every Sunday.

Living within one hundred feet of her for as long as I can remember inoculated me. Thank God. I’d hate being like the rest of you puppies nipping at her ankles.

Sultry looks were exchanged, and I’d for sure need to charge my headphones later tonight if I was to avoid traumatic bed squeaking.

When the food was claimed...I waited for Tyrell to give his usual spiel. “Customer’s always right, Del.”

Tyrell disappeared to the back, doing whatever the manager of an unappetizing Long John Silver’s knockoff did, leaving Stu, Mya, and me to our respective stations.

Except Mya crossed the imaginary border between drive-thru and front line, wiping crumbs off a counter that was technically my responsibility. I never felt possessive of FISHto squalor until that moment.

“If you’re going to be crass about it, I guess.”

Focusing on the rainbow spines of the various technical manuals lining his bookshelves, I conjured the most plausible response I could manage.

He kept going, kept indicting Angie. Everybody liked Kiera. So, what happened to the girl who did her dirty? All the girl hate got aimed at her.

Qwan’s head swiveled with her, leering, tracking her movements until she turned the corner. He said, “It’s amazing how you be around someone for months and never notice their inner beauty.”

Qwan began a rapid-fire, triple-X version of what supposedly transpired over the weekend.

While our teacher wrote on the whiteboard, he continued his recap on sheets of loose-leaf with crude stick figure drawings.

Qwan said, “I don’t know, but I should be the one teaching it. Bet I know more than Coach.”
He was probably right. Coach Scott never struck me as much of a ladies’ man, particularly with those Mickey Mouse prayers at First Missionary, but the point was moot.

I handed over my slip, then engaged in a fist bump. His calloused knuckles always hurt a little, but I made sure not to flinch.

Qwan and me took seats among classmates who were all going for different levels of aloofness as we filled the twenty-plus available desks, the same dudes in the same general sectors we’d occupied for most of our school careers.

“Regarding the change, there’s been a push to augment the abstinence-only aspect of the program formerly known as Family Living. So, while topics will be similar to the old format, there will be some additional direction on contraception, STD prevention, and resisting peer pressure up to, and including, any sort of ill-advised pacts.”

We weren’t great in sports. Our academic ratings were middling. Graduation rate was only slightly above average. But, where Green Creek reigned was highest per capita teen pregnancy rate in the state of Virginia. So, we were the best at something.

Colossus skulked behind her.

There was a white kid, a brown kid, a Simpsons-yellow Asian kid and, for some reason, a happy goat. There was an aggressively bright sun with sunshine spokes shooting over Jesus’s head, and a rainbow. The bubble print overlaying the blue sky read: Jesus Loves Me, Yes I Know! It seemed encouraging, blasphemous, and racist all at the same time.

I scrolled through several of my favorite model accounts, and saw a couple of funny memes while Kiera got winded by such fervent prayer.

I scrolled through several of my favorite model accounts, and saw a couple of funny memes while Kiera got winded by such fervent prayer. “...oh Lord, please guard over all the innocents in the room, so that they won’t be corrupted by the predatory influences around them...”

“‘Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me.’”

“Everyone, I want you to grab a poster board and a magazine. We’re all going to find pictures of things we think represent purity and make Covenant Collages!”

It was odd to hear my name, so formal, cross his lips. He said it with reverence, the way he pronounced religious names like David and Moses from the pulpit.