Avra's God

by Ann Lee Miller

  A knot of anger balled in Avra’s stomach. She hadn’t seen Isabel in weeks—since the night Cisco told her to get lost at Beachin’ Willie’s. Was Isabel going to start stalking Cisco again?

  “That’s a wrap!” Jesse yelled.

  Jenna and crew, in matching pink T-shirts, rushed the stage, screaming and grabbing at the guys’ ankles. Kallie stood in the row in front of the sound board and spun toward Avra. Her lips pinched white as she gathered up her backpack and jacket.

  Avra glanced up in time to see Isabel’s arms wind around Cisco’s bare leg. The anger flamed through her.

  The groupies calmed.

  Avra’s fingers turned white where she gripped the sound board. Why hadn’t Cisco shoved Isabel off the second she grabbed him?

  Jesse vaulted from the stage and strode up the aisle. “Hey, Kal—”

  Kallie stopped at the end of the row.

  “Something’s wrong with the song we’re doing Thursday,” Jesse said. “Would you look at it?”

  “Jesse!” Jenna strode up the aisle.

  Jesse glanced toward Jenna and back at Kallie. “Wait for me.”

  “Oooh, Jesse!” Jenna wiggled and squirmed as if a dragonfly had crash-landed into her backside. “That was an awesome rehearsal!” She shook a sheaf of papers at him. “We drew up the fan club charter. Thought you might like to look at it.”

  Kallie rolled her eyes.

  Yeah, I’m annoyed too. Seriously. Avra had had about enough of Jenna herself. And way too much of Isabel.

  Isabel swung her hips as she headed toward the restroom. Billy’s hands stilled on the keyboard case, his chin following Isabel’s progress across the room. Cisco ducked his head over the high-hat, his fingers twirling a wing nut.

  Enough! She race-walked across the auditorium before she could change her mind. She paused outside the restroom door, took a breath, and pushed through.

  Isabel stood on the tile floor, brushing her hair at the spattered mirror. Her purse lay in the sink, the shoulder strap overflowing onto the counter. She shoved her chin toward Avra in the mirror, sneering. “Cisco’s girl.”

  “Yeah. Quit following him around like a Rottweiler with your tongue hanging out.”

  Isabel turned toward her, hairbrush in hand like a weapon.

  Avra dropped her arms, spread her feet apart—a soccer stance—waiting for Isabel’s next move.

  Isabel shrugged a slim shoulder as though she didn’t care.

  “How would you like it if Cisco was your boyfriend and I followed him around?”

  Isabel looked her up and down. “You’re nothing. Why would I worry about you?”

  “Maybe because I got the guy.”

  Isabel’s dark eyes glittered between narrowed black lashes. She spit a Spanish word into the room between them.

  Avra flinched inwardly at the girl’s tone but stood her ground. “Back off.” She stared at Isabel’s Look of Death for a full second, shoved the door open, and left.

  God, You deal with her.

  As she walked up the side aisle toward the sound board, Kallie bent over a spiral notebook as if she were trying to ignore the screaming girls’ second round.

  Jesse played the rock idol—shaking hands with the girls, kissing a cheek. He sucked it all up like a human shop vac.

  Give him what he really craves. Avra watched from behind the sound board as Jesse carried the keyboard stool and the guitar stand up the aisle.

  Kallie ripped pages out of the spiral notebook and thrust them toward Jesse. “I changed my mind. Fix your own song. You don’t need me.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You never needed me. You had the talent before I met you. Maybe I pointed out the truth to you a couple of times, but that’s all.” She waved an arm toward the pink-shirted girls. “You’ve got plenty of people to tell you you’re good.”

  “But, Kal—”

  Kallie blew by Jesse. “Knock ’em dead, Jess.”

  Go Kallie! Avra hit the power switch and all the lights on the board dimmed to black. She wished Kallie hadn’t fallen for Jesse. There’d be major pain before it was over. Lord, show her how to get close to You and Your comfort.

  Jesse stared at Kallie’s back as she exited the auditorium. He smacked the seat back in front of him and caught her eyes on him. “So what’s with Kallie?”

  “She’s not into the competition scene.” She darted a look at the restroom. “Most of us aren’t.”

  “We’re friends, not boyfriend and girlfriend.”

  How much should she say? “Kallie’s an all–or-nothing kind of girl.”

  Jesse opened his mouth as if he’d argue, but clamped it shut. He stared hard at the seat in front of him. Finally, he kicked it and turned away.

  “Kallie’s right, you don’t need her.”

  He stopped and looked back at her.

  She motioned toward the giggling girls. “You don’t even need them. You’re looking for God’s smile.”

  “Okay, Avra. Whatever.” He walked away.

  Chapter 11

  The porch swing creaked and Avra snuggled deeper into the quilt she shared with Cisco. “I thought you were kidding about watching the garbage truck. It’s seven a.m. No one at my house is even alive at this hour on a Saturday morning.”

  Cisco slid his arm around her shoulders. “Exactly. Very romantic, don’t you think? Wait till you see the truck. The city just bought the thing. It’s got robot arms that hug the garbage can, lift it up over the top of the truck, and dump. Pretty sweet.”

  She grunted and mumbled, “You’re so a morning person.” She curled up, leaned her head against Cisco’s shoulder, and closed her eyes.

  He chuckled. “Fine. Go to sleep. Some date you are.”

  The swing jostled. Next to her ear, she heard Cisco open and shut the Pop Tarts box, rip open the foil envelope. “Hey, you’re letting in cold air.”

  Cisco tucked the quilt under her chin. “A little grumpy, are we, first thing in the morning?”

  “Mmm.” She listened to Cisco munching on the Pop Tart and dozed.

  “I like you even when you’re grumpy.”

  She slit her eyes at him.

  He ran his hand across his mouth and the sparse hairs on his chin. “You need sweetening up,” he said into her hair. He kissed her part, forehead, eyelid, the corner of her mouth. In the distance a truck revved, clunked, and revved.

  Her eyes slid shut. “Still grumpy.”

  Cisco’s lips closed on hers. She tasted blueberry and breathed the soap scent from his skin. She woke by degrees, Cisco filling her senses.

  He ended the kiss and smiled.

  “Do you think you could wake me up every morning?” She laughed when she realized what she’d said.

  “Next Saturday, garbage detail?”

  “It’s a date.”

  “And the lady hasn’t even seen the truck yet.”

  Avra shifted away from Cisco to better read his expression. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Shoot.”

  “Why do you kiss me good night, then jump over the porch railing and disappear like you’re running from a fire?”

  He tapped her nose with his finger. “Keeping my promise to your daddy.”

  “Oh.” So, this was how Bella felt in Twilight when Edward protected her from himself. Cherished.

  “You’re my best friend,” Cisco said. “I mean that. Everybody in my life has issues. You’re my sanity. I like the whole package—your smarts, your family. You listen to me. I like the electric blue in your eyes, the way you fit in my arms, your lips—” He coughed. “Uh, let’s just say I really like the package.”

  “Aw, man, are you done so soon? I was just getting into this.”

  He gave her a lopsided grin. “Now you’re supposed to tell me why you’re into me—although I don’t know if it really counts if I have to ask for it.”

  “I don’t know if I can spell it out like you did. I just know that—I love you.” The realiz
ation came with the words.

  His eyes widened. “Yes!” He punched the air. “She loves me!”

  She glanced self-consciously back at the picture window behind the swing.

  Cisco dropped his voice. “I never loved anyone before you.” He hugged her, and her tears wet her face.

  As if on cue, the garbage truck pulled to the curb.

  Kallie ditched her Saturday afternoon voice lesson with Jesse. Jenna’s Screaming Pinks could coach his singing for all she cared. She hoped he froze his butt off in the damp shed waiting for her.

  Kallie adjusted her backpack and rounded an unfamiliar corner. She pedaled harder, wanting to get as far away from the shed as possible. Her tire veered off the pavement into the grass—like her life. She couldn’t blame that on Jesse. Had it been a divine shove, or, more likely, Dad’s?

  Not Avra. Avra rode down the center of the street, hands high off the handlebars in delight—loving a reformed player.

  The bare thought iced her with fear. She wouldn’t even trust one-step-removed-from-priesthood Jesse.

  A glint of light flashed at the corner of her eye. She halted, caught by the beauty of the winter sun glancing off the stained glass windows of Sacred Heart Church. A cloud passed over the sun and dulled the colors. Beauty brushed the deepest part of her, but it came in elusive gulps that never satisfied. Like religion. Add that to her list of gripes. Could you tell God you didn’t like the way He ran life? Probably not.

  Staring at the church woke up the ache to know the unknowable that had been inside her as long as she could remember. She leaned her bike against the side of the church and let the ache pull her up the steps and through the doors she’d only entered on Sundays.

  She stepped into the dim interior, automatically checking her pockets for change and looking for the stubby candles burning in rose-colored glass. But the candles had been in the Miami church. She sighed. She didn’t have a clue what she’d ask God for anyway.

  She continued down the aisle beside the carved Stations of the Cross and slipped into a pew. Something was missing from her life. Probably the crater where Dad used to be. Jesse said God was a father to the fatherless. How could God be the Daddy she craved, one who held her in His arms when she cried?

  The sun filtered through the stained glass, casting yellow-red-blue tints across the carpet. Her backpack clunked against the varnished pine pew. She pulled down the kneeler and slid onto it, resting her forehead on her folded hands. She whispered the prayers she’d known from childhood, one after the other until she ran out. She sat in the silence—waiting for what? She didn’t know. Her stomach growled. Her knees numbed.

  Had she genuflected when she entered the church? She couldn’t remember. She stood and headed for the doors, crossing herself as she went. Sorry, God.

  The wind blew in rain from the Atlantic a couple miles away. She zipped her sweatshirt jacket and straddled her bike. What was the most she could hope for? To do more good deeds than bad—and someday get to heaven perhaps after a stint in purgatory? What about now?

  The sky turned as dreary as her thoughts, and she flipped up her hood. She wished she wasn’t mad at Jesse. He would understand how she felt. She’d heard the cries of her heart in his songs—I’m a pinecone, aimless, empty, tumblin’ across the beach in the wind. And as the son of a minister, he had to have more of a clue about God than she did.

  “What up?” Cisco sandwiched himself between Kurt and Drew on the stubby bleachers beside the soccer field. He leaned past Drew and said “hey” to Avra’s parents.

  Drew rubbed his stomach and craned his neck—mouth open. “It’s the big one.” He let out a hearty belch.

  Cisco laughed.

  Cindy Martin thwacked her son on the shoulder. “How are you ever going to land a wife and give me grandchildren with manners like those?”

  “This is a manly skill.”

  “Let me know when they put belching in the Olympics,” she said.

  Kurt leaned across Cisco and slapped his brother’s hand. “Nine point eight.”

  The warmth of the evening sun seeped inside Cisco. Avra’s family made him feel like he belonged.

  On the field Avra pummeled the grass toward the goal with dancer’s legs. The coach said she’d grown an aggressive streak and kept her at forward.

  Cisco sat back to savor watching her.

  Avra sprinted into scoring distance. She darted away from the defender, fielded a hard pass from the left wing, and rifled the ball into the goal.

  Cisco bolted from his seat with Kurt and Drew. “Yeah, baby! That’s my girl!”

  Avra stepped into the stadium lights.

  Cisco leaned against the fence. His face lit up when he saw her.

  Her breath caught. She felt desirable—maybe for the first time in her life.

  He shouldered her duffle and scooped an arm around her. “Mmm, love that aggressive streak. Two goals, mí vainilla.” He kissed her hair as they walked toward Frank Roca Park. “You gotta do a victory dance. None of this, ‘What? I made a goal?’“

  She laughed and climbed up the ladder to the metal play gym. “You’re why I’m playing forward. You’ve given me confidence.”

  “Before I even talked you into going out, I thought you’d be good for me.” He monkeyed onto the metal platform near the kiddy slide and sat beside her. “Look, I’m doing homework for the first time. I’m even pulling a B in Humanities. I’m going to church, haven’t partied since I met you.”

  “Do you miss the things you used to do?”

  “Just one.” He ran his finger from her ankle to the slit in the side of her soccer shorts. Fire traveled up her leg in the wake of his finger.

  He grabbed the launching bar overhead with both hands, branding her with his gaze. Something hot crackled between them in the cool night. A car sound system blared Rihanna’s Under My Umbrella. A baby cried.

  “What are you thinking?” A smile played at the corner of his mouth.

  “I’m thinking we’ll be late for dinner if we don’t leave now.”

  He dropped one hand to the platform and leaned in. “Liar.”

  Only his lips touched hers in a long, pliable kiss that melted bone and cartilage into soggy papier-mâché. When it ended, night air puffed across her moist lips. She stared unblinking into the dark pools in his eyes.

  He slid down the slide.

  Her fingers gripped the nonskid bumps in the play set to keep her balance.

  Cisco grinned up at her. “I thought you were worried about dinner.”

  “Dinner? What’s that?”

  He laughed and crouched to catch her when she slid down.

  Kallie slouched in her seat in the News Journal Center’s theater as if Jesse would spot her from the stage.

  Beside her, Avra craned her neck, peering into the sound booth. A banner reading Battle of the Bands stretched over the stage.

  She didn’t want to analyze why, but she needed to be here.

  The lights came up in the packed stadium. A teasing moment of silence, then Jesse’s hand arced across the strings. Cisco and Billy played in such perfect sync with Jesse that they seemed like part of his body. She’d never heard them so tight. Hard-driving music spilled from stage, a song Kallie hadn’t heard.

  Ice cold, nice—so fine—she’s Ice Girl.

  Nice, she’s cool as ice.

  Summer Solstice combs your hair and

  Never warms you. You’re a beauty—

  So remote, so chill—the guys line up

  But never melt you.

  Ice cold, nice—so fine—you’re Ice Girl.

  Nice, you’re cool as ice.

  Once, I knew the girl inside the ice.

  Your heart beat red and warm.

  Your lips were soft.

  Your voice joined mine and soared ...

  The song ended, and for a heartbeat its caustic mood hazed the air like a drug. Then, screams and applause erupted.

  Realizing she’d been clenching her jaw, Kallie r
elaxed. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a block of pink T-shirts. Her teeth clamped back together.

  Jesse walked the stage, inhaling the praise like oxygen after three minutes under water.

  Kallie pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. Why did she think every song Jesse wrote was about her? “Jesse’s so good, he scares me. I’ll be Jesse’s ‘Ice Girl,’“ Kallie muttered as she sidled past Avra.

  “Someday you’re going to have to take a risk.”

  It sure won’t be with Jesse. Kallie fluttered her hand at Avra and slipped out of the row.

  Moonlight poured through the shed window onto Jesse like a spotlight. He clutched the Battle of the Bands’ second place trophy, the red and gold metal cool and unyielding in his hands. He should have let Cisco or Billy take the thing. But, he hadn’t been able to let go of it, not while a milliliter of adrenaline still pumped the sense of connection with the crowd, the power of the music, invincibility, through his body.

  He deposited the trophy on the dusty floor. Kallie used to celebrate his victories. He imagined joy breaking out on her face at her first glimpse of the trophy. But, he’d barely seen her since she ditched the band. He slid his phone out of his pocket. His thumb hovered over her speed-dial number.

  He filled his lungs and emptied them.

  Avra had been right. Kallie was all-or-nothing. And he didn’t like nothing. And all was way too much to ask.

  He flipped the phone shut.

  He groaned and shoved the stack of hymnals into the moonbeam and plunked the trophy on top. Leaning back, he peered through the viewfinder on his phone. He reached for the trophy and angled it so light washed the letters of Beach Rats.