by Robin Talley
It was a warm night. When we made it over the first row of hills and into our grassy valley we spread out the mats and sat down, leaning back on our elbows to watch the sunset.
“This might have been the best week of my life,” I said as the sun dipped low.
I felt anxious as soon as the words were out of my mouth, but then Christa said, “I know what you mean,” and I relaxed again.
I wanted to lean my head against her shoulder. Could I do that? Would she think it was weird?
Whatever. I did it anyway.
She didn’t seem to mind. In fact, after a minute, she leaned against me, too, and slid her arm in next to mine.
We slunk down lower, watching the sun until it was nothing but a memory above the scraggly treetops.
Then we kissed. I wasn’t even sure who started it this time. We were touching, and then we were turning. Our faces met. Then our lips.
Kissing Christa was so different from kissing anyone else. It wasn’t because she was a girl, either. It was because I cared about her more than I’d ever cared about anyone.
We kissed, and kissed. I lost track of how long we’d been out there. The night was still and quiet, and I could feel how warm and soft Christa was through her clothes. Just when I was wondering what she felt like underneath, she was rolling on top of me, her body pressing into mine.
Our kisses weren’t gentle, friendly kisses anymore. These were fiery and hard, both of us breathing fast and messy. I wrapped my arms around her back and pulled her against me as tightly as I could. I felt warm between my legs.
We kept kissing and moving together until the moon was high overhead. It had to be getting late. I pulled back from Christa a little and opened my eyes. She looked flushed and sweaty. Above her I could see the tree line and the stars.
“Somebody might notice we’re gone,” I whispered. I didn’t know why it seemed necessary to whisper, but it did.
She nodded. Slowly, she pushed herself off the ground, separating her body from mine. It felt strange to have space between us. To be just me, not part of me-and-her.
Christa glanced toward me. Her mouth curled up in a not-quite-laugh. “Your mascara is, um.” She bit her lip. “Having some problems.”
“Crap.” I licked my finger and tried to rub under my eyes. “Does that help?”
“A little. Don’t worry, it’s so dark no one will notice. Do I look normal?”
“Uh. Your dress is kind of rumpled.”
We both laughed. “Yours, too,” Christa said. “Maybe we should—”
A rustling sound came from the hill above us. We froze.
Was it my dad? One of the other chaperones?
It could be anyone, really. We were out in the Mexican wilderness.
I forced my head up, my heart pounding even harder than it had when Christa was on top of me.
The rustling came again. It was definitely footsteps, on the side of the hill farther from the town.
I looked. It wasn’t Dad. It was—
It was some kind of animal.
Christa sucked in her breath. The thing on the hill seemed to be a really big dog, except I’d never seen a dog like that before.
“Is that a coyote?” Christa whispered.
I didn’t know. I’d only ever heard of coyotes from cartoons. But the dark shape at the top of the hill wasn’t anything close to the animated versions. It had sharp ears and claws we could hear scrabbling in the dirt. Even though I couldn’t tell in the dark, I was sure it had sharp teeth, too.
“What do we do?” I whispered. Christa shook her head. We were city girls, both of us. “Does it know we’re here?”
“Do you think we can make it up the hill to the other side?” she whispered.
“I think we’d better try.”
“Let’s go slow. Maybe it won’t see us that way.”
We grabbed the mats and started to climb as quietly as we could. I wanted to run, but whatever that thing was, I was positive it could outrun us if it wanted to.
A scratching sound came from the valley behind us. Christa gasped. I clapped my hand over my mouth to keep from yelling.
We made it over the crest of the hill, and this time we did break into a run. My sandals didn’t let me go very fast, but I was still faster than Christa. I kept looking over my shoulder to make sure she was there, but she was, running flat out in her flip-flops.
When we were almost to the church I turned around. Christa was still running, but I didn’t see anything in the dark behind her. I motioned for her to stop and we dropped into silence.
The thing wasn’t chasing us anymore. Maybe it hadn’t been after us to begin with.
But even so.
“Holy hell,” I whispered.
Christa clutched her chest, her breath coming in heaves.
That coyote-thing had been terrifying. But part of me was still a little relieved it hadn’t been Dad catching us in the act.
Either way, our private little valley wasn’t so private anymore.
CHAPTER 9
The tiny bit of Spanish I’d picked up over the past week counted for nada when I tried to follow Reverend Perez’s sermon that Sunday morning. So I spent the service bowing my head when everyone else did and trying to think of places where Christa and I could hang out at night now that the hills had been overtaken by wild animals.
I kept getting distracted, though. Thinking about Christa’s lips. About how the sensations from last night had lingered in my body.
I’d kissed guys before, sure, but it had never felt this way. Kissing Christa sent an electric current running through my veins. I wondered if the people sitting in the church pew with me had ever felt anything like it.
I glanced from side to side. Lori was sitting on my left, Drew on my right with Sofía on his other side. Christa was three pews in front of us, wearing a purple fedora. Next to her was Madison, the girl she’d been dancing with the night we arrived.
From now on, it looked like Christa and I would be stuck meeting indoors. But I didn’t know how we’d find a place where we could be alone. We worked all day, surrounded by a million people. At night, in the church, we were equally surrounded.
Although...the church was only full after dark. All day long, while we were at the work site, it just stood here, empty.
It wasn’t as if we could sneak away from the work site, though. Someone would notice. Besides, the whole point of being in Mexico was to do our volunteer work.
Maybe we could sneak away in the evenings. During vespers? No, Dad would notice. But maybe at supper. The chaperones ate together. Dad probably wasn’t paying much attention to me at meals or he would’ve said something about me only eating toast.
It could be cool to hang out in the church alone with Christa. Before the sun went down, it would be gorgeous in here, the light filtering in through the windows. And there would be plenty of sleeping bags around if we needed to lie on something.
Mmm. Last night was the first time we’d ever actually been horizontal together. That had rocked.
At the altar Reverend Perez said something and raised his hands. In one movement, the congregation stood, and I scrambled to my feet.
After another silent prayer, people started gathering up their things. Apparently church was over. I hoped no one would ask me what I’d thought of the sermon.
Lori and I followed Drew and Sofía down the aisle. Everyone was hanging around outside, talking and laughing, the local congregation and our group all mixed in together. Next to me, Sofía smoothed out her short, flowered dress, laughing at something Drew had said.
I wondered if she and Drew were serious. I’d thought Drew would have a hundred girlfriends in college, but he’d spent most of his freshman year either at work or in his room with the door closed. I wa
sn’t sure when he actually spent time with his friends. Or if he even still had friends.
“Any word yet on your suitcase?” Lori asked me. It felt weird, talking to her about other stuff when I hadn’t told her yet what happened with the coyote. Up until now, she’d heard about all my hookups with Christa—I’d already fulfilled my end of the summer-fling pact and then some—but I wasn’t sure I wanted to tell Lori about this time. I kind of wanted to keep some things between me and Christa now.
“It’s at the airport in Tijuana,” I told her. “Carlos said they’re hoping someone can drive over this week to pick it up.”
I knew Lori was tired of me borrowing her clothes. I was tired of it, too. They weren’t me, and besides, they never came close to fitting. Plus, I’d gotten my period, so I’d had to use Lori’s tampon supply, too.
By the way, having your period when you had to wash out your underwear every night, and you were stuck sharing two toilets with forty people? Was pretty awful.
Today Lori and I had traded the dresses we’d worn on Saturday, since Lori had only brought two dresses to Mexico. It was a little weird knowing she was wearing the same clothes I’d had on last night when I was out in the hills with Christa.
Speaking of which, I wanted to tell Christa my idea, about meeting in the church in the evenings. I craned my neck, but I didn’t see her.
“Yo, Sis.” Drew waved a hand in front of my face. This clearly wasn’t the first time he’d tried to get my attention. “You coming?”
I pushed his hand away. “Coming where?”
“Lunch. Remember? We’re supposed to meet Dad.”
“Oh, right.” The Suarezes had invited Dad, Drew and me to Sunday dinner at their house. Another hour of picking at my food and not understanding a word anyone said.
We said goodbye to Lori and Sofía and found Dad near the edge of the crowd with Señor and Señora Suarez. Juana, the girl from my jewelry-making group, was their daughter, but she didn’t usually eat with us at lunch during the week, so she was hilariously excited that we were coming over today. As we walked to their house she kept running around us in circles, chasing her two younger brothers, then giggling and looking back to make sure we appreciated the show. Her hair was up in a complicated braid that must’ve taken ages to get right, and dust had already started accumulating around the hem of her pristine white lace dress, but no one seemed to mind.
Drew had taken more Spanish than I had, so he talked to Juana’s parents as we walked. I hung back with Dad. He’d done a year abroad in Greece in college, so he was great at telling stories about Zeus and Athena, but no better than me at talking to the Suarez family.
“Dad, can I ask you something?” I said while the others chattered incomprehensibly.
“Of course, sweetheart.” Dad didn’t look at me, though. He was gazing off into the hills.
“Are you—do you know how you’re voting at the conference? On, you know, the different planks?”
I didn’t want to say the words gay marriage to him. Well, really I didn’t want to say the word gay.
“Not yet.” Dad was still staring into space. “Our congregation won’t meet to finalize our plans until August.”
“The congregation has to meet?” I scratched a mosquito bite on my shoulder.
“Yes. I’m representing Holy Life of Silver Spring, so we’ll all decide on our votes together. And sweetheart, are you wearing bug spray like we told you to?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Anyway, as a delegate, I’m hoping we’ll vote in favor of the anti-war plank.” Dad turned to face me then. “I don’t see how we, as Christians, can decide otherwise.”
“Me, neither.” We were all pacifists in the Simon family. When I was a kid, I thought everyone was. I was shocked when I got to school and met kids who didn’t think war was so terrible, or who played games where they pretended to shoot people.
Dad rambled for a while about how the voting worked. What would I say if he mentioned the marriage plank? Would I try to persuade him to get the congregation to vote yes on that, too? What if he didn’t want to?
I’d never heard him mention feeling one way or the other about gay marriage. We didn’t really know any gay people. I mean, there was one guy at my school, Marcus, who everybody said was gay because he wore really tight pants, but I didn’t know if that counted.
When we got to the Suarezes’ house I tried to follow Juana’s mother into the kitchen to help, but she waved me away the same way all the ladies did when they served our meals. I sighed and wandered back to the front room.
“Ah-ki,” Juana called. She was running around the dining table setting out plates and silverware. Usually at lunch my friends and I ate in the living room, where there was more space, but today it looked as if we were sitting with the family. “¡Vamanos!”
She said other words, too, but vamanos was the only one I could understand. All the kids said it when they wanted someone to come with them.
I thought she was asking me to help her set the table, but Juana took my hand and tugged me past the couch where the adults were gathered, down a narrow hallway and into a tiny room with a small bed tucked into the corner.
The room was bright and airy. The small window was open, and sunlight gleamed over a neat pink bedspread. A soft gray doll with beady black eyes sat propped up against the pillows.
“Es muy bueno,” I said, wishing I knew the word for room.
Juana rattled off a bunch of commands I couldn’t understand in Spanish. She kept pointing at me, then at the floor by the foot of her bed. Finally I got that she wanted me to sit down. I thought she wanted to play a game, but instead she grabbed me by the shoulders and twisted me around. I laughed. For a little kid, she sure was good at going after what she wanted.
Then she sat on the bed behind me and grabbed at my hair. Oh, okay. I knew about this from church camp. Everybody loved to touch black girls’ hair.
It didn’t bother me with Juana the way it did with the blonde girls back home, though. For all I knew, Juana had never even seen black people before my group showed up here. I sure hadn’t seen any other black folks walking around Mudanza.
Juana grabbed at my hair and started pulling it back into some sort of style. I’d gotten my hair done in braids before we left home so it would be easier to deal with down here, but after a week of tying them back with ponytail bands, I’d left them hanging loose that morning for church. I couldn’t see what Juana was doing, but it felt as if she was trying to wind the hundreds of tiny braids into one thick braid. I tried not to wince as she tugged at my scalp.
Maybe I could ask Juana what she thought of the health clinic here. She must’ve gone there for shots and when she got colds and stuff. I wondered why her friend Guadalupe hadn’t gotten an inhaler there yet.
“Juana?” I said. “Ah... ¿Usted va al doctoro?”
Juana giggled. “¿‘Doctoro’?” she repeated.
Maybe doctoro wasn’t the word. “Uh...al Casa de Salud?”
“¿Qué?” Juana tugged at my scalp again.
I tried again. “El Casa de Salud. ¿Qué, uh, qué vas—”
“There you are, Sis.”
Juana paused in her yanks. I twisted around to see Drew standing hunched over in the doorway. He was so tall he took up most of Juana’s room.
“Is lunch ready?” I asked him.
“No, not yet. Actually I, uh, wanted to ask you something.” He turned to Juana with a big, charming smile. “¿Qué pasa, señorita?”
Juana giggled at him but didn’t answer. She went back to pulling on my hair.
Drew’s smile faded as he turned back to me. Suddenly he looked hesitant. He kept glancing at Juana. Well, she wouldn’t understand him, if that was what he was worried about.
“Come on in.” I motioned for him to close Juana�
��s door. “There’s space over there where you can sit.”
Drew gave Juana a big wave as he crossed the room in three strides. She giggled and went back to winding my braids together. Drew settled down into the space under the window, folding his long legs underneath him awkwardly.
We fell into silence. Juana yanked on my hair. I tried not to wince.
“So, uh, I don’t know how to say this,” Drew said after a long moment.
I sat up straight. Panic glided slowly into my chest. “Just say it.”
“There’s a, uh...” He cleared his throat and glanced back at Juana’s closed door. When he spoke again his voice was so low I had to strain to hear him. “Look, I heard something and I kind of want to know if it’s true. About you and...that girl, from Rockville.”
Oh, God. We’d thought we were being so careful.
It was impossible to tell what Drew was thinking. He wasn’t smiling, but he didn’t look as though he was about to throttle me, either.
Should I lie?
I never lied to Drew. I hadn’t since we were little kids. Once in kindergarten I’d taken his favorite basketball jersey to wear as a Halloween costume and got grape jelly on it at lunch. I tried to hide it for the rest of the day, then I cried about it all night. Finally, the next morning, I showed it to him. He laughed and told me not to worry, that he got stuff on his jerseys all the time and it would wash right out. From then on I’d always told Drew the truth, even if it meant he gave me a hard time about it.
“It’s true,” I said softly. I twisted around to see if Juana understood what we were talking about, but she was looking down at my hair, a determined expression on her face. She shoved my head back until I was facing forward.
Drew looked up at the window at the foot of Juana’s bed. “I heard a couple of days ago. I didn’t think it was for real at first because I thought you’d have told me. But then yesterday I saw how you two were with each other, and—I wasn’t so sure.”
I wondered how he’d heard a couple of days ago. I wondered what Christa and I had done yesterday that made him believe it. “Yeah.”