“You should go.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Harper!” A new voice called, and Harper cringed. It was Bronte.
“They’re looking for you. We’d better go.”
She wanted to argue again, but if Bronte was looking for her, she had to go back. Sarah walked ahead of her, and away from her friends.
The smile grew on Tyler’s face when she approached, and he wrapped his arm back around her as if it was the most natural thing in the world, so why did it feel so alien to her? She didn’t want his touch. What she wanted was to be back with Sarah. She steeled her jaw, determined not to let thoughts of Sarah get to her. Tyler’s stare rested on her lips, and she dropped her gaze to his. Pale lips that so resembled Sarah’s. For a moment, she imagined that it was Sarah’s lips reaching for hers, and was startled when Tyler’s mouth met hers.
Her imagination surprised her as much as the wetness and pressure of Tyler’s sloppy kiss. It wasn’t more than two seconds before he was pushing his tongue against her lips like a cold snake. She clenched her teeth to make sure he wouldn’t get through, and took a step away from him, breaking their connection. Tyler didn’t seem to care or understand that he’d been rejected as he smiled and put his arm back around her.
She wasn’t sure why, but she searched for Sarah. She was standing where they had left their bags, her arms wrapped around herself, her cheeks streaked with black makeup.
“Something’s wrong with Sarah,” she said to Tyler. She wanted to go over and ask her what was wrong, but her friends wouldn’t understand her going back to her. The fact that they hadn’t bugged her about where she’d gone off with her before was a gift in itself. Tyler took his arm from around her and went to check on Sarah, and Harper was thankful for the gesture two-fold.
“Hey, are you okay?” Tyler said loudly enough that Harper could hear.
“I want to go home,” Sarah said miserably.
Harper’s breath caught. Her friends babbled on about how hot Tyler was and how lucky she was that he kissed her. Lucky. She might have laughed if it hadn’t been so horrible.
“We don’t have to be home for another hour.” Tyler looked back over his shoulder at Harper. Sarah followed, and she glowered when her gaze met Harper’s.
“I want to go home now, Tyler.”
“Okay, okay. Let me just go say goodbye.” Tyler broke back into their circle, between Jen and Alexis. “We’re gonna take off. Sarah wants to get going.”
“So what?” Alexis said.
“She’s my sister,” Tyler said irritably.
Harper gained her first solid shred of respect for him. Behind him and several feet back, Sarah stood waiting with her shoulders hunched and her arms still wrapped around herself. The red rims of Sarah’s eyes were dark where makeup had been rubbed away, and Harper’s heart gave a small tug. Why had Sarah been crying? Was it because of what she had said to her in the woods? What the hell had she been thinking dragging her out to this party, and then treating her like she had? What scared her was that she knew exactly what she wanted, and that if Bronte hadn’t come looking for her, she wasn’t sure of the irreparable damage she might have done to her reputation. It was as though she couldn’t help herself when it came to Sarah. Already, Harper wanted to know when she would see her again.
Tyler hugged her goodbye. “Can I get your number?” he asked. Thankful that he hadn’t tried to kiss her again, Harper didn’t protest when Jen excitedly dictated Harper’s number for her so that he could write it down in the notebook that he’d drawn from his bag.
“Thanks.” He smiled at both Jen and Harper. “My parents don’t let us have cell phones, but I’ll call and give you my number this weekend.” She nodded, and he and Sarah walked off into the darkness.
When she could no longer see them, she felt a sudden sadness come over her. “I’m not feeling so great anymore,” Harper announced to no one in particular. “I’m going to see if Bronte is ready to go.”
“Come on, it’s early,” Alexis said. One stern look told them she meant her words, and they didn’t try to argue with her again when she left to find Bronte.
“Hey, little sister.” Bronte smiled. “What’s up?”
“I was wondering if you wanted to head out. I’m not feeling so great.” It wasn’t a lie, although she did allow Bronte to think it was from the alcohol and not from Tyler’s kisses and Sarah’s departure.
“Sure, sure. Are you going to puke?”
“No.”
They walked to the car in silence, Bronte seeming to sense Harper’s foul mood and leaving her to it. Bronte pulled out of the parking lot, and Harper was relieved as soon as they were away from the park and on the road home.
“So, how’d you like your first real high school party?”
“It was okay.” Harper shifted in her seat and stared out the window.
“I saw you talking to Tyler Jamieson.”
“Yeah.”
“Anything going on between you guys? He’s pretty cute, for a niner.”
“He kissed me,” Harper said, still looking out the window.
“You don’t sound very excited about that.”
She should sound and feel excited. Two years ago, if the cutest boy in her class had paid her attention, she would have been swooning at just the thought of him, but something had changed in her. At some point over the last couple of years, kissing a hot guy had lost its luster. It had become mechanical. Something she did because Bronte encouraged her to, or she felt it was expected of her.
“Do you always like it when you kiss a guy?”
“I don’t know. Not if I don’t like him, but even then it’s exciting, you know?”
No, Harper didn’t know, and Bronte’s response only solidified that something was wrong with her.
“Hey, it’s no big deal if you didn’t like kissing Tyler,” Bronte said soothingly. “Just because he’s good looking doesn’t mean you have to be in to him.”
“How do you know when you’re in to someone?” Her voice was quiet.
“What do you mean?” Bronte looked at her before returning her focus to the road.
“Like, how do you know if you, you know, have feelings for someone?”
“You just know.” When Harper looked back out the window, Bronte’s countenance changed. “Haven’t you ever had butterflies in your stomach or gotten excited just from being around a guy?”
No, she had never gotten butterflies in her stomach from a guy. No one had ever made her feel…wait…someone had. The blood drained from her face. She’d felt it just that night. A funny feeling in her stomach, a flutter in her chest, a tug in her lower abdomen…when she was around Sarah. Shit.
“What is it, Harp?”
“I don’t think I feel that way about Tyler.” She was scared her confession would be met with disapproval from Bronte, but she was tired of keeping up appearances. She’d had enough for one night. “I don’t think I want to date him.”
“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
Bronte’s words were infinitely more comforting that she could have known, and her kindness, mixed with a few shots of vodka, encouraged Harper to say what she did next.
“What if who I like is someone other people might not like?”
“What do you mean?” Bronte turned to her.
Harper could not look at Bronte. As much as she wanted to say it, to know that it was okay, she kept to herself that she might feel about Tyler’s sister how she should feel about Tyler. Bronte wouldn’t understand. She didn’t even understand. She wasn’t even sure herself that’s what was happening. Saying anything to Bronte about it would be plain stupid. Sarah was interesting, intriguing. That was all. She’d never known anyone like her. That didn’t mean she… It didn’t mean anything.
“Never mind.”
She’d had too much to drink; that was all. She’d had too much to drink, and everything would feel better in the morning when she was sober. Tyler was a
nice guy. He would call and want to see her again, and she would let him.
CHAPTER 6
Bewildered didn’t begin to explain Sarah’s feelings. The walk home from the party with Tyler was its own unique kind of torture. What happened at the party? When they’d walked into the park and Sarah realized that she was at a party with all of the popular kids, even seniors, she’d wanted to run home. These were the kids who’d made fun of her for almost her entire life, and now she was offering herself up as a vessel for their torture. They didn’t torture her though. They didn’t so much as look at her funny after Harper brought her into their circle. How easy it must be for Harper. She had that something about her that made everyone else stop, listen, and obey. There probably wasn’t anything that Harper wanted and didn’t get.
“I knew she was in to me. I knew it!” Tyler punched the air and let out a yelp. He hadn’t shut up the whole walk home about how great he was feeling, and about how Harper was going to be his girlfriend. Was she? She shook off the unpleasant cringe, and continued to walk silently beside him, praying his lips would stop moving.
Harper talked to her at the party. So what? Harper talked to a lot of people that night. In fact, before she’d pulled her aside, she’d talked to everybody but her. Why had she done that? When she had walked away to be on her own, she didn’t think that anyone would even notice, especially not Harper. She and Tyler had seemed so wrapped up in one another, with Harper hanging on his every word, and Tyler becoming touchier and touchier with her until, for some reason, Sarah could no longer stand it and had to walk away.
Sarah replayed Harper coming over to her, pulling at her arm until they were away from everyone else. It made no sense. She’d been talking to Tyler and her jerky friends the whole night, so there was no explaining why she’d come up to her and said she wanted to talk to her “friend.” Were they friends? Not having any others, it was hard to make a comparison. Maybe they could be considered friends, of a sort. Harper had asked her about what she liked to do. She’d told her some personal things as well. Harper had even told her she was pretty.
Sarah’s cheeks warmed at the memory. She replayed Harper’s words over and over, burying them deep inside of her. She couldn’t remember the last time someone told her she was pretty, but she was fairly certain it had been her mom. When Harper looked at her, she felt something she had never felt before. It was as if something was being tugged inside of her, pulling her body toward Harper whenever she was around. Again, Sarah felt that odd feeling in her stomach, like a weight had just been dropped there.
“Hey, why did you get so upset tonight? Did someone say something to you?” Tyler asked, as if finally remembering that she was a person and not just a sounding board for his night with Harper.
“I’m fine. No one said anything.” They turned down their street, and Sarah quickened her pace, eager to get away from Tyler. How could she explain why she’d gotten so upset when she wasn’t sure herself?
Tyler turned the key slowly and they took off their shoes as quietly as possible. They weren’t late for their curfew, but Tyler had been drinking, and he was worried their dad might smell it on him. Sarah ran up the stairs, not waiting to answer Tyler’s whispered question about if he should ask Harper out that weekend or not. In that moment, she couldn’t bear the thought of Tyler asking Harper out. She couldn’t stand the idea of sharing her with him. Sharing her? Did she really think she had some kind of claim on Harper just because they’d talked a few times? Did she expect Harper to see more than the loser everyone else saw?
How could she ever like someone like you? Her thoughts were pathetic even to herself. Here she was, alone in her room, and all she could think about was Harper Isabelle. What was it about girls like that? It wasn’t just girls like that though. She hadn’t given a second thought to Alexis, Melissa, or Jen. Sure, she knew them by name—who didn’t—but she never thought about them when they weren’t right in front of her, and she barely gave them any consideration even then. There was something different about Harper. She had never felt a pull toward someone like she did with her.
When Harper had taken her jacket off and put it around her arms, Sarah felt something clench inside her chest. It was the kindest thing anyone outside of her family had ever done for her. The coat smelled like Harper, fresh and fruity, and Sarah took in deep lungfuls of her scent, wishing she could fill herself up with it. She’d never had thoughts like that about anyone before.
She reached for the drawing of Harper. Once in her hands, she laid it gently on the bed, and sat beside it. She traced over Harper’s every feature. When she looked at her lips, she saw her brother kiss them. She had known what was going to happen as she watched them, and yet she was surprised by the pressure she felt in her chest. It was like she couldn’t breathe. When she’d heard a sob, it had taken her a moment to realize it was her own. The agony pitted itself all over again. Why did the memory of Tyler kissing Harper make her feel this way? She couldn’t understand her feelings. The more she stared at those charcoal lips, the deeper that funny feeling rooted itself in her stomach, until she could take it no longer. She brought the paper to her mouth, the charcoal lips to her own, and kissed them.
She ripped the drawing away, ashamed. She licked her lips and tasted charcoal. The heat of her mouth smeared the drawing of Harper’s. She tore the paper in half, the confusion of what she’d just done overtaking her. She squished the destroyed drawing deep into the bottom of her waste paper bin. She would never think about Harper Isabelle again.
* * *
“Sarah, get up. We’re going to be late.” Tyler closed the door as abruptly as he’d opened it, so quickly that he missed Sarah’s grumbled response. She’d overslept, and they might actually be late for church.
Her dad would have gone to work hours ago to put the final touches on his sermon, to make sure there were no unexpected problems, and to greet the parishioners by name. Toronto was a big city, but church communities were small, and her father had been a minister at Our Lady of Worship for as long as she could remember.
Sunday was the one time Sarah didn’t bother starting a war with her parents over her clothing and makeup. She was going into God’s house, and she didn’t want to be disrespectful. She brushed her teeth and hair, threw on a black and gray, below-the-knee, tweed pencil skirt, with a strappy black tank top, and a black cardigan to go over it. Sure, she may look like she was going to a funeral, but as far as respectable-ladies’ wear went, this outfit was one of her only options. Tyler and her mom were waiting by the door, her mother impatiently tapping her foot as well as the keys against her hip, giving Sarah a look that said, if she’d been one second later coming down those stairs, they would have left without her.
Tyler took the front seat, as usual, and her mother put on one of her oldie radio stations from the eighties. Finally, Don’t You Forget About Me came on, and Sarah could at least appreciate one song during the ride. The houses drifted by the window, and a melancholic sadness washed over her. It was getting colder out, and the pedestrians on Lawrence Avenue were wearing fall coats and boots. A few were even wearing scarves. They drove by a couple of teenagers, the girl pulling the boy’s hand forward toward a pile of fallen leaves, and the feeling rooted deeper inside her. What would that be like? Normally, when she thought of boys, it was only of how unnatural kissing one would feel. Huh. That gave her pause. Unnatural. Something about that word resonated, but she wasn’t sure why.
Her mother pulled into the space designated for Reverend Jamieson. He liked to walk to church Sunday mornings if the weather allowed for it. He said he felt God move through him as the wind sailed through his lungs and cleared his mind. Sarah had tried the same tactic before. She’d tried to feel God in nature, but where she truly found Him was in her art. When she was drawing or painting, she felt something move through her, take over her, and if anything, it was the most religious experience she knew.
The pews were packed as they walked into the old church. It was
built in the sixties, and Sarah felt stifled as the stale air and exhalations of thousands of people from the past entered her body. Why did all churches smell so bad? They were old buildings with hundreds of people moving through them every week, but so were schools, and they did not smell like this. Despite the high ceilings, it was as if she was sharing the same air with everyone around her, and it made her queasy.
Her father was poised at the front, ready to start the sermon. He would be disappointed that they hadn’t been there to greet the parishioners with him as was their custom, and it was her fault for being late. He eyed them with slight disapproval as they took their seats in the front row. Once they had settled, he raised his arms to indicate that all should stand. The morning prayers began with the hymn “How Great Thou Art,” and the congregation joined in. The melody was always off, but that didn’t stop the worshippers from belting out off-key in the name of the Lord.
“Then I shall bow, in humble adoration, and then proclaim, My God, how great Thou art.” Sarah finished with the rest of them, her voice lower than that of her mother’s and even Tyler’s, who had that same smirk on his lips that he reserved for Sunday service and evening grace. When had that started? Tyler seemed as devout as she was when they were younger, but something in the last year or so seemed to have shifted, and she perceived mockery and disdain behind Tyler’s devotions these days.
“Welcome, brothers and sisters. Please be seated.” There was the usual loud shuffling as everyone resumed their seats and picked up their bibles. “How fortunate we all are to be here again on another Sunday to worship in the light of the Almighty. Praise be.”
“Praise be,” the congregation echoed.
“As Thanksgiving approaches, I want to talk about the notion of being thankful. It has been said that without suffering, we cannot know the greatness of God. Had God not tested Job, we would not understand the kindness and salvation of God. Had Jesus not been crossed and sacrificed, we would not know to be joyous in the alleviation of suffering. It is only through hardship that we learn to give thanks for our blessings.”
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