Not So Pure and Simple

by Lamar Giles

  Leaning, the lockers propping me up as I remembered how to breathe and various parts of my body throbbed, I watched Qwan show restraint, negotiating peace where he might’ve been throwing punches before, and had the strangest thought: Angie’s really good for him.

  Mason backed away, looking more frustrated at himself than mad at me. He pointed at the others. “Y’all ain’t see nothing. I can’t afford to get suspended over Del’s punk ass.” Then, to me, “Touch me again and you’re getting worse.”

  They all poured from the locker room, snickering at my quick and effortless defeat.

  Qwan said, “D, what was that?”

  I didn’t know. I only shook my head, pulled myself together, and left the locker room. Out there, Mason didn’t acknowledge me. Coach Scott didn’t drag me. Kiera spared me a single, concerned glance.

  I went to her.

  It’ll be okay, I thought with force, hoping she’d sense my reassurance from across the gym. It will.

  No way Mason wouldn’t notice me and her talking, but we were all invested in no scenes on the open floor.

  Kiera said, “What’s going on?”

  “Do me a favor. Let me drive you home after school? It’s important.”

  “Important how?”

  “Trust me. First Missionary Crew, right?”

  A slow, skeptical nod. “Okay. I’ll meet you at your car.”

  We got through gym without incident, though I could barely concentrate on any of the drills or the lackluster volleyball game Coach Scott insisted on. In the locker room, I got dressed fast, Qwan standing guard in case something jumped off, but Mason and his boys never even came back in. On my way to the exit, I spotted him and his crew in conversation with the sergeant that oversaw the JROTC. Though he flicked glances my way, he couldn’t stop me without going AWOL or whatever.

  Kiera met me at my car. My joy at finally getting time with her was tempered by the inevitable mood-killing conversation we were about to have. No way was she going to react well to Mason telling lies about her. I ran through likely scenarios—sadness, shame, rage—and wondered about the best way to comfort her, to remind her all dudes aren’t trash like him.

  She saw me coming, lifting her phone as if I could read the tiny texts from yards away. “People are saying you and Mason got in some kind of fight.”

  Of course they were, despite Qwan’s warning.

  “Get in,” I said, “I’ll tell you about it in the car.”

  With the school in my rearview, I worried about a kill-the-messenger situation. She needed to know, though. When Taylor Burkin dropped that first #BabyGettersToo video, Kiera had been happy I hadn’t left her in the dark. Maybe she’d be happy again. We could figure a way to get in front of Mason’s lies. “Look, what I’m about to say, nobody’s going to believe it. Everyone knows Mason makes things up.”

  “Things like what?”

  Do it, Del. Don’t be a punk. “He was telling guys in the locker room that you two had sex in his car. They believed it because they don’t know you like I do. So, I stepped in. We had an altercation.”

  She was quiet, processing it. I knew better than to expect a thank-you right away.

  “He told people that?” she said.

  I was outraged for her. At a stoplight, I turned to her, prepared for tears. Her face was slack. Unreadable. I asked, “You okay?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “He can’t get away with making stuff up that way. That’s, what’s it called? Slander! I know it might be embarrassing, but maybe you should tell your parents. Or your brother!” I thought better of that. “He’d probably rip Mason apart. Not that he wouldn’t deserve it.”

  The car behind me honked; I’d missed the light changing. I put us in motion again.

  Halfway to her house, she still hadn’t said much. “What are you thinking, Kiera?”

  She squirmed. I reached for her hand, trying to comfort her. When my fingers grazed hers, she pulled away. Her silence was suffocating.

  “He was lying,” I said, “right?”

  She said, “I didn’t think he was going to be talking about us like that.”

  My throat constricted. My hands felt shaky on the steering wheel. “Us? You told me he was a friend.”

  “He is. Was.”

  “So you didn’t have sex with him? Because we were in a group that pledged not to do that, Kiera.”

  “I didn’t plan to, it sort of happened.”

  My emotions shape-shifted. Sadness, rage, shame. “Did he—did he force you?”

  “No! I’m saying we didn’t plan it in advance. We were together and one thing led to another. I didn’t expect for him to act this way about it.”

  “Well, you should’ve!” It was louder than it needed to be with only us in the car, not as loud as I felt like being. How could she?

  “Excuse me?”

  “You should’ve known better!” my voice echoed.

  She twisted in her seat again, facing me now. “Who do you think you’re yelling at right now, Del? You need to relax.”

  “Me? I’m the one you’re worried about. Mason in there dogging you to his friends, but I’m the bad guy now.”

  “I’ll deal with Mason. Okay? But you’re a little too deep in my business right now. I don’t know why, but I don’t like it.”

  Deep breaths; I forced my voice softer. “Was the Purity Pledge a joke, Kiera? Because I seem to remember you questioning my motives and intentions from day one.”

  She shook her head. “No. I didn’t.”

  “You pulled me aside, got all into my reputation, and if I was going to be a problem for the other kids, and—?”

  “I wasn’t questioning you, Del. I was questioning me.”

  “I don’t understand anything you’re saying right now.”

  “Are we friends, Del? For real? First Missionary Crew?”

  I said yes because what else was I going to say.

  Kiera wiped a hand down her face, like she could squeegee away the day’s stress. “I wasn’t a virgin when the pledge started. Me and Colossus, we’d been doing it. But when I found out he’d tried to cheat on me with Angie, I wanted a fresh start. When I saw you join, and I’d heard how you and Qwan be with all these different girls, it made me wonder if either of us had any business in that pledge. I came at you because I felt guilty.”

  My car felt unsteady. Maybe it was the road. Or the entire world. Everything was off. “You’ve been lying about your virginity?”

  “I didn’t lie. I never said I was a virgin.”

  You know this game, that slick, back-of-my-mind voice whispered. You know it well.

  “But, Mason?! After you took the pledge. After you promised.”

  The first sob tore from her. “I know.”

  She was hurting; me rubbing her broken vow in her face was salt in a wound. Good! “Out here acting like a THOT.” I was all rage then, none of the other emotions. It felt good being real about all this bullshit. For once.

  “Like a what, Del?” She sniffed, cut off the tears, slapped me. Almost as hard as Mason punched. Then, she slapped me again. “I’m acting like a what?”

  I swerved. We were in her neighborhood by then, and not going fast, thank God. “Stop! You’re going to make me wreck the fucking car.”

  Her hand hovered, vibrating with the need to hit me again. Instead, she said, “Take. Me. Home.” Like we couldn’t see her house ahead.

  I pulled into her driveway, and she was out the car before I was at a full stop, slamming my door with enough force to rock the suspension. She stomped up her porch steps, to the front door, then spun to deliver one last message.

  Sweet church girl Kiera flashed her middle finger.

  All my anger rushed back, and I drove home saying horrible things—more horrible than what I’d called her.

  The anger lingered at home. I trudged through the kitchen, past Dad’s office. On my way up the stairs he popped his head out and said, “What up, son. Good school day?”r />
  I only grunted, barricading myself in my room. At dinnertime, I ate fast, aware of my parents watching warily, then communicating their concern in that silent way they’d mastered. They didn’t ask, I didn’t tell. I went to my room still chewing.

  In bed, my thumbs hovered over my phone screen. I hesitated over the message. What good would it do?

  Me: I haven’t been acting like myself lately, and I want to see you. Can I come over tomorrow? Please?

  Screw it. I hit Send.

  The response was immediate.

  Shianne: Cool. See you tomorrow.

  Chapter 25

  SCHOOL WAS HELL THE NEXT day.

  Word of the locker room incident spread. Not so much to get me and Mason dragged into Terrier’s office, but enough to get me joked on all damn day, dudes squaring up in the hall and shadowboxing close enough to my face that I felt the breeze off their knuckles. My newly swollen eye didn’t help my cause. Too bad it wasn’t swollen enough to hide the smug victorious looks Mason flicked my way as we crossed paths.

  If the day was hell for me, Kiera’s torment wasn’t far behind. Mason’s conquest tale made the rounds, too. I saw her once before our shared gym class, books held tight to her chest, head low, guys leering, inquiring loudly about how “gooood” she was.

  Midday, while swapping books at my locker, I emerged and found an anxious, sad-faced Mya leaning on the locker next to mine. “What’s going on with you and Kiera? I’m hearing all kinds of things.”

  “Maybe you shouldn’t listen.” I slammed my locker and kept it moving.

  After school, I headed home for a quick shower, a few spritzes of Dad’s best cologne, then straight to Shianne’s, where she greeted me at the door with a screaming Zoey on her hip.

  “What’s wrong with her?” I scooted by, gave shrieking Zoey a wide berth. I sensed the emptiness of the house.

  “Does it look like I know, Del? Mom passed her to me the minute I came in, warned me she’s been cranky all day, then escaped. She’s fed. Her diaper’s fresh. I tried to put her down for a nap but she cried more. At this point, I’m leaning toward demonic possession. Do you have any holy water?”

  “I do not.”

  Shianne groaned. Then sniffed deeply. “Are you wearing cologne?”

  Proud, hopeful, I said, “You like?”

  “It makes me want to sneeze. Come on.”

  She led me to the TV room. Zoey calmed slightly when Shianne laid her on the couch cushions. By calm, I meant her screaming became more of a persistent growl. Babies did that? “She sounds like a wolf cub.”

  Shianne scowled. “You’ve had a day, I hear.”

  “Everybody’s heard. Something. Probably ain’t the truth.”

  “You’re alive, and Mason’s not in jail. That disproves one of the stories. You two fighting over Kiera, though?”

  “I guess. It was stupid.”

  “You’re correct.”

  Zoey wasn’t crying anymore. She made a gurgling sound that seemed suspiciously like agreeing with her mama’s point.

  I said, “Should’ve listened to you from the beginning.”

  Shianne jerked forward, a single eyebrow arched. “About what?”

  “When you said Kiera wasn’t worth it.”

  She ceased her baby wrangling, considering it. “I didn’t say that. I never said that about her.”

  “I mean, you said she was uptight.”

  “I did. That doesn’t have anything to do with her worth. I thought you’d like a different kind of girl. She all churchy, and you aren’t.”

  “She ain’t that churchy.”

  Shianne’s eyes narrowed, but she was quiet.

  I said, “You should’ve heard the way Mason and his dickbag army were talking about her. I can’t figure why she put herself out there like that over that dude. I thought she was smarter than that.”

  “So you think she’s stupid now?”

  I shrugged. “What would you call it?”

  “Del, you may not want to hear this, but Mason’s ridiculous hot. Sometimes, that overrides common sense. I should know.” Zoey cooed as if she agreed.

  What the hell, Shi? I didn’t come here to talk about Mason being hot. “Well obviously it wasn’t worth it. And me, like a dummy, defending her when it was really true.”

  “Aren’t you noble.” It was tense, sharp. Zoey started crying again.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You tell me.”

  “I’m saying she’s a liar. She played me.” I grazed my puffy eye with my fingertips. “I got this because of her.”

  “Want me to get you a cookie?” She picked up the baby, rocking her. Shielding her, almost. “I should tell you how great you are. That’s what you want me to do, isn’t it? Give you a trophy. Because you’ve never said crazy disrespectful things about any girls the way Mason did. Right?”

  Something had changed in the room. A different kind of pressure. Storm clouds. “What you acting mad at me for?”

  “You don’t even hear yourself.”

  “Yo, am I bothering you? Should I leave?”

  “You should if you came here for me to cosign on your fake heroics.”

  “Fake—? I was trying to keep Kiera’s name from being dragged through the mud.”

  “You just called her a liar and said she wasn’t smart. You’re dragging her fine on your own.”

  “Shianne, stop twisting everything I say. I know you’re tired from the baby and all, but you acting like I did something to Kiera.”

  “Wowwww! I can’t have an opinion about this nonsense you brought to my doorstep. I must be tired, and not thinking clearly. It can’t be that you’re wrong. Why exactly did you want to come here, Del? Why am I suddenly worthy of cologne?”

  “I thought I was coming to see my friend.”

  “So, it won’t bother you if my dad doesn’t pay you.”

  You know what, screw this. I went for the door, but spun and faced her again, needing to get this off my chest. “I don’t get y’all. For real. All of you say you want a nice guy, but you can’t see one sitting right in front of you, then get mad at us when we tired of the bullshit.”

  She laughed. Laughed! The insanity of it enraged me. “What’s so funny?”

  “Del,” Shianne said, not one bit of humor in her voice, “who told you you were nice?”

  “I—” What?

  “Since you have your gripes about us girls and what we don’t see right in front of us, let me put you on to one of my pet peeves about boys. Warped perspective.” She bounced Zoey, who squealed with delight, having fun now. “Her dad has given me many lessons over the last year. We’re only right when we please you. When you’re not pleased, we’re crazy, or juvenile, or stupid, or not worth your time. Because you’re so nice.”

  “You’re—” I nearly said “crazy,” but stopped short.

  “You think you’re nice, Del. You think you’re nicer than Mason. You spent all that time in her church activities, doing pledges and praying, and whatever else you thought she liked. Things that ain’t really you. But, because you were so nice when you were doing that fake shit, she owes you something, right? Mason’s an asshole for talking about what him and her did in private, but he never pretended to be anything but what he is. Surprise, surprise, honesty worked. Who you really mad at here, Del?”

  I chewed my bottom lip, tasted blood. Held back every horrible thing bubbling in my brain. I wasn’t going to fall for this. She was . . . baiting me. Probably mad at her baby daddy and taking it out on me. “I guess I wasn’t so horrible when you needed someone to run a game on your parents so you could watch videos on your iPad.”

  “Don’t act like it wasn’t mutually beneficial.”

  “I’m gone.”

  “Bye, Mister Nice Guy!”

  “You’re mean as shit, Shi.”

  “That’s why we’re friends, Del. You haven’t figured that out yet? We’re so much alike.”

  Chapter 26

/>   AT HOME, I SLAMMED THE door and shook the house. Dad dropped his chopping knife and made a fist, startled by my entrance. “Junior, I know you know better than to come in here like that.”

  “Sorry.” I tried to stomp past him, but he rounded the kitchen island, grabbed my arm.

  “Hey, what happened to you today?”

  Any thought of sulking alone in my room faded as I blurted, “Girls are insane, Dad!”

  “In what way?”

  “Every.”

  He tugged me toward the kitchen table. “Sit down. Explain.”

  So, I told him. All of it from the Sunday Newsome busted me and the Purity Pledgers to Shianne’s meltdown. He took his chair at the head of the table, shifted positions a few times like he couldn’t get comfortable. Crossed arms, slow nods, but he didn’t interrupt.

  “. . . then Shianne goes off on me saying I was, like, using the church to fool Kiera and I got what I deserved.” Or something. So much of it came from left field, and felt like a blur now. “That’s totally not true.”

  Dad seemed to struggle with his words. “Son, when I asked you about that pledge thing a few weeks ago, you told me you were doing it because of Kiera.”

  “Yeah, but not dishonestly. Rainey Man!” I offered him my fist, so he’d understand.

  When he extended his own hand, it wasn’t to fist-bump. He wrapped his palm over my knuckles—paper beats rock—and nudged my arm down.

  “Your mom’s going to be home soon. We should all talk when she gets here.”

  “About what?”

  “What you told me.”

  “I don’t need another woman yelling at me today, Dad.”

  Anger flashed across his face like lightning in a cloud. Only for a second. “We’re all going to talk. It’s not going to be what you think. You do need to watch your tone. Believe that. You’ve had a bad day. I get it. Don’t make it worse.”

  Fine. Everyone’s lost their mind. “Can I go upstairs?”

  “I’ll call you when she gets here.”

  The garage door rattled open beneath my window, and Mom announced she was home and hungry. Then it got quiet, at least twenty minutes of what I assumed was conversation about I don’t know what. There was a gentle knock on my door, and Dad let himself in without an invitation.