Not So Pure and Simple

by Lamar Giles

  Understanding the stakes, I began my own text to Jameer, hoping the double harassment would get him in gear. Before I finished, headlights shone in my rearview.

  Ramsey’s car pulled within a few feet of my bumper, then cut the headlights so the glare wouldn’t blind us. Kiera went slack with relief. Even though we were in the same vicinity, Jameer still wasn’t in much of a hurry. I could see their silhouettes leaned into each other, gyrating with their sloppy kissing.

  “Oh come on,” she said, her phone vibrating with, most likely, another parental check-in.

  Kiera reached over, triggered a short burst from my horn. The silhouettes separated.

  Jameer left Ramsey’s car, shuffled over to mine, and pawed at the door handle until he was able to fall into my backseat, giddy.

  Kiera killed his mood. “You better hope we’re not in trouble.”

  Ramsey drove off, and I circled the block, parking between their houses. Kiera ran down their cover story.

  “The three of us stayed late at Antonelli’s discussing church stuff. We didn’t text because our phones were dead, and we didn’t think it was a big deal. At the worst, they’re annoyed with us. Got it?”

  Jameer gave a lackadaisical thumbs-up. “Whatever you say, boss.”

  Kiera sneered, said, “Thanks for the ride, Del. See you in church tomorrow.”

  Jameer clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Thanks for everything today, Del.”

  They parted, on the way to their respective porches, and I sat a moment.

  Thanks for the ride, Del? That’s it? I do everything it took to pull the day off and Jameer got more action than me?

  This some bullshit.

  Jerking my gearshift to drive, I made a hard turn out of Kiera’s neighborhood. Pissssssed.

  I couldn’t shake the feeling the whole way home.

  Chapter 22

  Tyrell: Del, Stu’s going to be out again. If you could get here even a half hour earlier, it would be super helpful. Let me know if that’s possible ASAP

  Tyrell’s text woke me up three minutes before my alarm was supposed to go off. That made me cranky enough to not hit him back. I’d see him later, during my regularly scheduled shift, thank you very much.

  Honestly, though, I was cranky with or without his text. Last night kind of sucked.

  I got dressed out of habit, rode with Mom to First Missionary with earbuds in, listening to ratchet-ass trap music; Mom could miss me with that gospel today. When we sat in our pew, I did a quick head count of the Purity Pledgers. All present, all in their usual spots. Those who’d had the most wine looked a little sluggish. Jameer’s chin rested on his sternum like he could doze off at any second.

  Kiera was settled in between her parents, greeted me with a cursory wave. I felt crankier than ever.

  So I committed to zoning. No holy rolling for me that morning.

  Service started. The choir sang. The announcements got read. Tried to keep it all in the background while I thought on more pleasant things. But every so often my gaze drifted to the front pew, where Tavia, her grandmother, and her kid sat. Flashbacks of last week’s horrible forced confession made it difficult to think of better places.

  Newsome took the pulpit, opened his Bible as if he meant to read, then gently closed it, staring at the cover. His silence went on for an extended moment, long enough to trigger concerned murmurs.

  “Pastor?” someone asked, I didn’t know who.

  When he spoke, it was with the utmost sadness. “I have discovered we have a wolf in sheep’s clothing among us.”

  Startled parishioners looked to each other for meaning. The wide-eyed faithful got rapturous, perhaps sensing a fire-and-brimstone sermon coming. Coach Scott squeak-shouted back, “A wolf in sheep’s clothing. Amen!”

  “I need to repent!” Newsome slapped the podium. “I made the mistake of thinking I could shirk my duties as the spiritual leader of this house, and let the Lord do all the work Himself. Now, we know He is able to do any and all things in heaven and on Earth, but he still requires discernment from us. I was not discerning when I let something other than a single-minded focus on God distract our young people. I looked the other way when I saw dangerous influences swaying them. I am not looking away anymore.”

  The dramatic pause was epic. Felt a month long. Long enough for suspicions to rise.

  Newsome took a strange turn. “Television is Satan’s tool, you know that. Shows everything except glory for the Lord. But, I recall many years ago, a public service announcement that used to air. ‘It’s ten p.m. Do you know where your children are?’ Anybody else remember that?”

  Some chuckles from the old heads. I had no clue what he was talking about.

  “It was a good question. I know most everyone in here knows where their children are at that time of night. What about during the day? Do you always know?”

  Some grumbling. Some cheers, probably from folks still thinking this was some abstract example.

  “Did you all know where your children were yesterday afternoon?”

  Oh. No.

  “It has been brought to my attention that our bright, promising Purity Pledge class attended an event on the campus of Commonwealth University yesterday. It was hosted by a woman who makes sexually explicit internet videos, and I’m certain if you’re the parents of these children, you were unaware until this very moment.”

  The ripple effect was wide and immediate. Parents twisting in pews, asking stern questions of Helena and Shanice. Mya’s mother pointed to her in the choir stand, making a silent promise for later discussion. Across the aisle, Jameer’s parents remained composed. He shuddered. His punishment would not be public.

  Ralph and Bobby Burton were by themselves, only contending with the flicked glances from adults who would undoubtedly fill their mom in later. The Westings craned their necks to Kiera, seated between them, flanking her with their disapproval.

  On the front pew, Sister Vanessa hunched forward, head in hands, either in prayer or tears. Best I could figure, our escape from the CU auditorium wasn’t as successful as I thought. She’d seen us. Had reported back. And now . . .

  Newsome said, “We know here, at First Missionary, our children are not prone to bad behavior, or deception. At least they didn’t learn it from us.” He held his Bible high. “Or this. There has been an outside influence—a wolf—integrated among our sweet flock, and Lord help me, I let it happen.”

  Mom gripped my arm, like she used to when I was little and she needed me to stand still, or stop running through a store. Something like fear pulsing off her.

  “The Purity Pledge was meant to be so, so holy,” he said. “It has been sullied. It saddens me to say that I can’t allow it to continue. Not in its current incarnation.”

  Sister Vanessa sprang up. “Pastor, no!”

  His immediate response was ice. “See. Even my own niece rebels when under the shadow of the evil spirit that has taken hold of these children.”

  Evil spirit. Me. He was talking about me.

  “The Purity Pledge is done. No final ceremony, no Purity Ball! Not until we cleanse this house! Can I get an amen?”

  He got it. The amens rattled the foundation.

  “Every head bowed! Every eye closed! We will chase Satan off this day!”

  They obeyed, praying for the solution. To expel the evil spirit. Truth was, there might have been something to it. I never wanted to leave a place so badly.

  If I wasn’t evil, I was stubborn. I wouldn’t give Newsome the satisfaction. Because this time he was Prayer Peeking, like me.

  We locked eyes in a staring contest. I lost.

  I bowed my head, closed my eyes. I stayed that way for the rest of service. It was easier than seeing all the disappointed faces surrounding me.

  Service ended. A huddle formed at the front of the sanctuary. All of the Purity Pledger parents, converging on my mother.

  What was said, I did not know. It seemed calm. At first. Like watching muted television withou
t the subtitles. Then energy shifted abruptly.

  Tense shoulders and jerky hand movements. Shanice’s mother stomped away three paces, then spun back, speaking fast and wagging her finger. Helena’s dad laughed a lot, but not in a funny joke way. It was the “I’m supposed to buy your bull?” laugh.

  What was Mom saying? She didn’t know anything about yesterday, none of them had until Newsome blew us up. It was only when he joined the huddle did things seem to calm.

  Not among the Pledgers, though. We’d all stayed in our pews, flicking horrified looks at each other.

  At Newsome’s direction, the other parents relaxed their hungry lion poses, allowing Mom a small window to escape, summoning me with a finger snap. “Let’s. Go.”

  I jerked to my feet and hopped into the aisle like she’d snapped an invisible leash. We climbed into the car silently, and were a half mile from First Missionary before the conversation I dreaded started.

  “What did you do, Del?”

  “Mom, all we did was go to Cressie’s school to see—”

  “You had those children lying to their parents and you took them out of the city without permission! Anything could’ve happened. Some of those kids are barely teenagers!”

  “I know. I wasn’t trying to take them at first. They sort of—”

  “I don’t care! You didn’t have permission. You’re not grown. You don’t pay for that car. Are you rolling your damn eyes?”

  “No.” Maybe.

  “Those parents are furious. At you. At me for not knowing what you were up to. They’re right to be. Do you even get that? It’s bad enough what I’ve been dealing with now that Cressie wants to be a NewsTuber or whatever.”

  “YouTuber.”

  “Boy, if you think this is the day for you to correct me, you are sorely mistaken.”

  I shut up. Though I had questions. Cressie’s videos were causing problems for Mom around town?

  Mom said, “You better start explaining yourself, Delbert Lamond Rainey Junior!”

  My whole-whole name. Damn. “Pastor Newsome is blowing the whole thing up because he doesn’t like me, Mom.”

  “The pastor doesn’t like you? So, it’s his fault that you snuck behind my back, and did things you weren’t supposed to. When are you going to grow up and take some responsibility?”

  “I am, though!”

  Mom said, “Oh sweet Jesus, I can’t with you right now. Let’s see what your daddy has to say about this.”

  In the garage, I ejected myself from the car as the door ratcheted down behind us. I entered the house first, thinking I might catch a breather while stripping out of my church clothes. Maybe sneak-text Kiera to make sure she was okay.

  Nope. In the kitchen, I found Dad clutching the house phone, with his head bobbing, a fighter’s posture. He said, “There you are. Sit your ass down right now.”

  The hell? Had Newsome called the house?

  I did as told. When Mom stormed in and sensed trouble, she said, “What’s wrong? Is it Cressie?”

  “Naw. She fine.” He aimed the phone at me like a gun. “Guess who I spoke to. Your boss at Monte FISHto’s. Mister Tyrell.”

  My head dropped into my hands.

  Dad told Mom, “He’s been trying to get Junior some shifts. Moneybags over here has been turning him down with no explanation. When he does show up, he’s goofing off and breaking rules so he has to get sent home early. Funny thing is I don’t recall Junior coming home early any of those days he was supposed to be working. Do you?”

  “I. Do. Not,” Mom said.

  With all the effort in the world, I lifted my chin, and looked my executioners in their eyes. “It’s not what you think.”

  “It isn’t?” Dad said. “Because I’m thinking you’re in the streets doing dumb shit. Are you hustling?”

  “No way, Dad. I know better.”

  “But you have money?” Mom countered, their double-teaming masterful. “How?”

  “Tutoring. Shianne Griffiths. Her dad’s been paying me to help her get caught up at school.” It was the half-lie me and Shianne agreed to, so I felt justified in arguing like it was absolutely true.

  That righteousness was not good currency today.

  Mom said, “So something else you decided to keep from us.”

  Dad’s head wrenched her way. “What you mean?”

  “Let me give you a little recap of church service this morning.”

  Mom told him everything, with the added bonus of the huddled conversations after service. “The other parents tore me a new one. It’s not about him being this ringleader taking their kids across the state like a human trafficker. The whole Pledge has been canceled because of our son’s ‘corrupting influence.’”

  Dad’s mouth twisted. “That’s ridiculous. They’re talking about him like he’s the damn devil. Though I guess that kind of exaggeration can be expected from folks like that.”

  “Folks like who? Like me? Because I happen to think they’re correct to be upset that a good thing their children committed to has been upended by our son?”

  “You mean the thing that’s a step above fitting those kids for chastity belts? I’m not saying Junior wasn’t wrong, but I think the kids will be all right not having to publicly profess their virginity, or however it works.”

  “You’d know how it works if you stop turning your nose up at everything holy. Oh, wait. Only your opinion matters in this house, though. You know more right from wrong than Jesus Himself.”

  What was happening here? Did they forget about me?

  I stood, thinking this a good time to slip away.

  “Sit yo ass down!” they said at the same time. If God ever spoke to me aloud, I imagined it’d sound like that.

  Dad said, “Mister Tyrell called here to say he couldn’t maintain your employment if you weren’t going to work. I convinced him to give you one more chance. You’re going to your actual job this afternoon.”

  “Fine.” Anything to get out of here. I tugged my keys from my pants pocket.

  “Give me those.” Dad extended his hand.

  “You said I have to go to work.”

  “You are. I’m taking you. And picking you up. Same for school.”

  “For how long?”

  “Until I can trust you again. Give me the keys.”

  I dropped them in his palm.

  “And your phone.”

  “Dad!”

  Mom backed him up. “Do what you’re told. Any more backtalk is only going to make your situation worse.”

  I handed my cell over. “Can I go now? I need to change into my uniform if I’m going to FISHto’s.”

  Dad nodded, releasing me. I got halfway up the stairs before he said, “Bring that laptop down here, too.”

  “What?”

  “Until we say otherwise, it’s only for homework, and you do that where we can see you.”

  Was this a Supermax now? Was I Jameer?

  A slick voice in the back of my mind whispered: You’re not Jameer. You deserve this.

  There was no fighting this, just enduring it. They were old. They’d forget. Eventually.

  It was the only way I knew to comfort myself as I was cut off from the outside world. From Kiera.

  How was she? What sort of fallout was she experiencing?

  Questions I had no way of answering anytime soon.

  According to Dad, I had bigger fish to fry. Literally.

  One cold comfort: this couldn’t last long. This kind of tech lockdown, the car restriction, we’d been here before. They’d get tired of supervising, of being my chauffeur. This would go three, maybe four days if they were feeling hard core.

  In my room, tugging on my FISHto’s shirt, I thought, This is nothing. It won’t last.

  Seventeen days later, with Cressie home on break, Mom hauling in last-minute groceries, Dad prepping the Thanksgiving turkey, and me still as cut off from the world as my parents could manage, my conviction waned.

  Chapter 23

  NO
T THAT THOSE DAYS BETWEEN Newsome’s ultimate judgment and the holiday were uneventful; I simply had no effect on the twists and turns.

  The only free contact I had with anyone outside my house was the cafeteria at school. That first day at lunch Qwan explained what happened between him and Angie at the grotto.

  “Maybe I had too much of that wine, D,” he began. “Things were going okay, I was trying to say the right stuff, but she kept talking about, you know, possibly being pregnant. It’s all she wanted to talk about. It was freaking me out, but I kept it cool, until she asked me what kind of dad I thought I’d be. So I was like, ‘Whatever kind you want so you don’t blow me up on some #BabyGettersToo-type shit.’”

  “Oh.” We’d all heard how the rest of that conversation went. “Have you talked to her since?”

  He nodded, slowly. I noticed the only thing on his tray was an orange, and Qwan generally didn’t eat fruit unless you figured a way to fry it. My dude was off.

  “She hit me up last night and said I didn’t have to worry about getting blown up. Her period came.” He picked the orange up, examined it like he didn’t understand it either, dropped it back on his tray. “She also told me not to speak to her again. She said people here treat her bad all the time. She wasn’t about to date one of them.”

  Whoa. “I’m sorry. You for real like her, don’t you?”

  “I love her, D.” His voice was so low, I barely heard it. Louder, he said, “If you ever bring up that I said that, I’m kicking you in the chest.”

  “Noted.”

  Qwan, never one to let the shield down for long, turned us back to my messed-up life. “What’s up with your situation? No car, no phone. How long’s that going to last?”

  Still under the impression my parents would cave after a few days, maybe a week at the most, I waved it off. Had no reason not to. So, my concern lay more with the Purity Pledgers and how they were feeling the fallout of the CU road trip. What I heard from pieced-together reports passed along from Jameer when I was at school and Mya when we shared shifts at FISHto’s. Some punishments were more severe than others. The Burton Brothers got their game systems and music recording equipment taken away. Helena and Shanice were forced to sign up for extra chores at the church. Jameer couldn’t be oppressed much more in his house, so nothing changed for him. Mya didn’t get into any trouble at all.