Slain Read online

  I arrive at the front, my toes brushing the pile of white roses resting there. As I place mine at the foot of the cross I decide it will mean something different this time, something completely different.

  As soon as I can get away, I find a dark corner and text Jackson:

  North Doors. 10 p.m.

  CHAPTER THREE

  I CHANGE INTO REGULAR clothes in the choir room with all the other girls. The place is strewn with curling irons and makeup cases and dress bags. It looks like a hurricane touched down at a beauty pageant.

  The Purity Ball is over, and our parents have gone home, but it’s only the beginning of the night. Soon the entire youth group is meeting downstairs in the Youth Center for a lock-in. There will be games and movies and a midnight worship service. Boys are included, but their sleeping bags will be dutifully segregated. They’re calling it, “A Night of Pure Fun”, because of course they are.

  I let my dark hair out of its prim bun, and it tumbles past my shoulders in long waves as relief tingles through my scalp. I like it so much better this way, swingy and free. My hair is really my only good feature, so I wear it down whenever I can.

  I take off an earring as Paige walks up to me. She and I have been friends since we were babies. Our parents have known each other since Bible college, so we’ve practically grown up together. Paige’s dad is the assistant pastor, which basically means he’s second in command to my dad. And her twin brother, unfortunately, is Mike. It’s part of what’s making things so complicated to break up with him. I’ve tried three times, but something always goes wrong.

  Paige hasn’t changed yet and still looks amazing. Her springy brown curls are piled on top of her head behind a glittery tiara. Her dress is a full-length lace column, sleeveless to show off her athletic arms. I won’t say Paige is vain exactly, but she’s totally buff and wears sleeves less often than anyone I’ve ever met.

  She hands me her Red Bull. “Here. Drink.”

  “Thanks,” I say, taking a swig.

  “No problem,” Paige says. “You kinda seem like you need it.”

  She thinks I’m tired. I’m not. I’m terrified.

  He’s coming. Here. Tonight.

  “You’re gonna have to take off the tiara sometime,” I say with a grin, changing the subject.

  “I really don’t know what you have against tiaras.” She laughs and sits down next to me. “Look at what it’s doing for my neck. I totally have a neck now.”

  “You’ve always had a neck.”

  “Not, like, a real one. Like Audrey Hepburn. That girl was gorgeous. She had a neck for days.”

  “Coveting someone’s neck is a sin,” I say, faking serious.

  She sighs dramatically. “I can’t help it.” She gets a little closer and whispers, “Hey, did you see June bawling?”

  “Yeah. What was that all about?”

  “I think maybe the Purity Ball came a little too late for her.”

  “With who?”

  “Not Nicolas. Before. Like, before she became a Christian I think.”

  “I guess it’s not the worst thing that could happen to a person,” I say, dipping my toe in the water.

  “Well, maybe not the worst thing, but it is kind of sad, don’t you think? I mean, how would you feel if Mike wasn’t a virgin when you guys got married?”

  My heart folds in on itself, just a little bit. I’m dying to talk to her about all this, to tell her everything that’s really been going on with me for the last year, longer than that really, but how can I? Every time I’ve tried she’s had the same reaction. “Paige—“

  “And don’t say you don’t know if you’re going to marry Mike, because I know you’re going to marry him. Otherwise, how are we gonna enact the plan?”

  “We made that plan when we were nine.”

  “And it’s still an excellent one,” she says. “Step one: become real sisters. I hate to say it, but that’s where Mike comes in. You’re gonna have to take one for the team on that one. Step two: buy houses next door to each other. Step three: have babies together. Step four: our babies get married. It’s very simple, Emma.”

  “Cousins can’t marry each other. I’ve told you that, like, a million times.”

  “In Colorado they can,” she says. “I checked.”

  “What?”

  She wrinkles up her nose, equally fascinated and grossed out. “It’s true.”

  “Well, maybe it’s legal, but it’s also disgusting.”

  Paige opens up her mouth to argue but stops to stare at something. I turn to look just as June herself walks up to us.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  JUNE IS RED EYED and frail looking. She’s still wearing the dance costume so she must not have changed into a gown after our performance. Maybe she didn’t have a gown to change into. She doesn’t seem to wear a lot of new things. I guess it’s not a big deal, but with her cry-rubbed face and pale skin, the overflowing layers of tulle seem like they could swallow her whole.

  “Can I talk to you guys about something?” she asks.

  “Yeah. Of course,” I say, even though I really don’t feel like handling her right now. I never know how to talk to June. She always seems to be in her own world. I’m only really friends with her because I’m not allowed to not be friends with anyone here. It’s one of those unspoken pastor’s daughter duties. I should really be on the payroll.

  “Sure,” Paige says, her face immediately concerned. “What’s the matter?”

  “It’s just…I, well…I was wondering—“

  “Ladies,” Miss Hope, our dance leader, calls from the doorway. “Gather up please.”

  We stop our conversation and make our way to the center of the room to face her.

  Miss Hope shifts where she stands, stretching a foot inside her ballet flats. She’s trim but sturdy and nearly six feet tall. I’ve never seen her wear heels, probably a habit formed because she’d tower over any of the eligible men her age. The idea makes me sad for her. Happy, too, that she found Pastor Pete. Their wedding is only a month away. Everyone’s talking about it like it’s Kate and Will.

  “I just want to say that I’m so proud of each and every one of you for making the commitment you did tonight.”

  She’s wearing white just like us, but her look is simpler— an empire waistline in floor-length chiffon with a square neckline and sheer three-quarter sleeves. Her dirty-blonde hair, as always, is cut in a blunt bob at her chin.

  “As many of you know, I too chose to commit my purity to Jesus when I was a young lady. And I’m thankful to say that my first kiss, my very first kiss, will be at the altar on my wedding day.”

  She’s beaming like she wants us to clap or something, but we just stand there, quiet. There are maybe a handful of us who haven’t ever kissed anyone, most of whom are in the homeschool crowd. The rest of them? Sure, they’re saving it until marriage, but kissing? That’s definitely happening.

  “Now I know that a commitment like that isn’t possible for everyone, but that’s what I felt the Lord called me to do. And with His strength, and the guidance of my father, I’ve done it. If any of you are interested in that path, I’d be happy to share my experience with you. Even if you might think it’s already too late, it’s not. It’s never too late to live up to the standard God has set for you. There’s no such thing as physical intimacy without consequences, but it’s about making the best choice today, and every single day after that.”

  She smiles sincerely, taking a moment to look at each of us individually. I cringe under her gaze. Am I really ready for this? Ready to go to a place there’s no coming back from?

  “But whatever you decide, I charge you to guard your hearts and save them for the man Jesus has hand-picked to be your perfect match. I know I’m glad I did.”

  It’s a beautiful idea. Romantic and sweet as a fairy tale. I have to remind myself that fairy tales rarely come true.

  “Now chop-chop, ladies,” Miss Hope says from the doorway. “I want everyone ready to
go down to the Youth Center in five minutes. The activities have already started, and I know you won’t want to miss anything. I’ve got lots of fun stuff planned for tonight.”

  We rush around, grabbing the things we’ll need for the lock-in. Everything else is staying up here until morning. I’ve got my sleeping bag and a backpack with my PJs and toiletries ready to go when June finds me again.

  “I don’t mean to bother you, but—“ she says.

  “Don’t be silly,” I say. “Why would you be bothering me?”

  She gets this smile on her face, grateful, like me saying she’s not bothering me is a big deal. She’s like that sometimes, and it always makes me feel bad, like I’m royalty and she’s this lowly peasant or something. June is a nice girl, but the kind of too-nice that makes you reach for something sour to balance it out. I should make more time for her, I know, but the truth is that this place is full of Junes, and there’s only one me.

  “Thanks,” she says. “I just really need to talk to you about something. You always know exactly what to say to make me feel better.”

  “I’m glad to hear that,” I say.

  She takes my hand in hers and squeezes it. I see Paige looking at us from across the room, painfully curious, grabbing her stuff fast and making her way over.

  “I really think of you like a sister.” June says “I mean, I know we’re not really sisters. But if I could pick anyone in the world to be a sister, it would be you.”

  “Thanks. That’s really sweet of you,” I say, not saying that I don’t really know her that well. Certainly not well enough to say the same of her. “So what’s going on?”

  Paige pops in to our conversation. “Hey guys. What’s up?”

  “It’s Nicolas,” June says, to both of us now. Nicolas, her boyfriend and my ex. I’m the one who broke up with him, but it was still a little weird for me when they got together. She was the first girl he dated after me.

  At first I didn’t quite understand what he saw in her, but then it clicked. Looking up at you with those pale-blue eyes, asking you to love her back, love her the best, save her from her loneliness? She’s the epitome of that One Direction song, “That’s What Makes You Beautiful”, which is such a guy fantasy to have. She makes Nicolas feel like a superhero, which is something I could never do. She makes all the guys feel like that.

  “I just thought, since, you know…you used to date him, maybe you could give me some advice?” June says.

  “I don’t know if I’m—,“ I say

  “You’re not breaking up, are you?” Paige asks. “You guys are, like, the cutest couple.”

  Tears spring to June’s eyes. “I, um—“

  “Come on, girls,” Miss Hope says from the doorway. “Time to go.”

  “Oh no,” June says, giving us a desperate look. “I don’t have my stuff.”

  “Later, okay?” I say. “Find me downstairs. I’m sure it’s nothing. We’ll figure it all out, I promise.”

  She nods, then races off to a corner to cram her things into a backpack. She still hasn’t changed from her ballet outfit, and there’s stuff strewn everywhere in her corner. Miss Hope is giving her a stern look from the door.

  Paige whispers to me, “Maybe you could get your parents to adopt her. Then you’d really be sisters.”

  A laugh spurts out of me before I can draw it back, and I immediately feel guilty for it, so I elbow Paige. “Be nice. She’s harmless.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  JUNE AND I DON’T get a chance to talk. Pastor Pete and Miss Hope have every minute organized to keep us busy, too busy for idle hands groping in dark corners, or in my case, too busy to talk to June.

  It feels like I’ve played a million stupid games with the other kids by the time I finally feel the phone buzz in my pocket just before ten. It’s him.

  I’m here.

  Adrenaline spikes through my body, a heady mix of danger and power. My fingertips jitter with it. I type “I’m crooning” instead of “I’m coming” and send it accidentally. Who cares. He’ll understand. I don’t want to take the time to retype it. I want to see him now.

  I run over to where I have my sleeping bag setup and grab my purse. My plan is to tell the chaperone at the door that I’m not feeling well, then disappear farther down the hall when they’re not looking.

  “Emma?” Nicolas stands in front of me, looking both concerned and confused. “Have you seen June? I can’t find her.”

  “No. Sorry,” I say. “But if I do, I’ll tell her to find you.”

  “It’s just—I haven’t seen her in a while, and I’m a little worried.”

  “How long?”

  “I don’t know. Twenty minutes? A half hour maybe?”

  My eyes nearly roll, but I manage to keep them steady. He’s worried about her after twenty minutes? It’s exactly this about Nicolas that makes me glad we broke up. His protective vibe is nice, but he can really smother a girl sometimes. “I’m sure she’ll turn up,” I say. “She’s probably gabbing in the bathroom with Ruth or something.”

  “Yeah, probably. Thanks,” he says, looking around the room as I walk away, clearly still uneasy.

  When I’m nearly to the door, there’s a burst of laughter behind me, and I look. Chuck Rand is bent over, Bic lighter to his butt. A huge burst of flame shoots out. Some girl I don’t know screeches in delight, and Pastor Pete is on them, taking Chuck by the arm and leading him toward Miss Hope. They talk, and Miss Hope scurries over to me.

  “Emma, could you do me a favor?”

  “Umm—“

  “The pizza will be here any minute. I just need you to go up to the cafe and bring down a few more cases of soda from the pantry. Maybe another two hundred cans? We’re running low down here. There’s a dolly in there that you can use to bring it down. Can you do that?”

  “I, ah—“ My mind is scrambling for a reason to tell her no, but I’m going blank. I can’t think of a single thing other than the truth: I have to meet a boy.

  “Thanks. I really appreciate it,” she says.

  And with that, she hustles to the door where Pastor Pete and Chuck are waiting.

  Paige walks up to me. “What was that about?”

  “Could you do me a favor?” I ask.

  “Sure.”

  I dart out into the hall and see Pastor Pete, Miss Hope, and Chuck going into the stairwell up ahead. I catch up fast. When we get out of the stairwell on the main level, I head toward the South Wing, opposite of where I want to go, just in case they’re watching.

  Our church is built on the top of a hill and laid out sort of like a compass, with the sanctuary in a circle at the center and wings at every point: north, south, east, and the overpass to the church’s school on the west. The West overpass is technically a little more northwest. They made it that way so the school’s three large buildings (elementary, middle, high) wouldn’t obstruct the mountain views from the back wall of the sanctuary, which is all windows. During church, you can see them through the glass, majestic and purple, towering over the athletic fields at school. Some people come to the Sunday evening service just to see the sun set.

  Pastor Pete, Miss Hope, and Chuck are headed toward the North Wing of the church, the top two floors of which make up the administrative halls where the pastors’ offices are. It’s also exactly in the way of where I need to go. I get to the Connections Café but I don’t go to the pantry. I wait there, in the dark, until I hear their footsteps disappear, then race back the other way.

  I look, but I don’t see anyone. It’s dark. I open the door a crack. They have all the lights off outside because the youth group are the only ones here, and we’re supposed to be confined to the Youth Center. My eyes adjust. There’s nobody there.

  “Jackson?” I whisper. Then I see movement. He peeks out from behind the wall, guitar case strapped on his back, those big dark eyes and wry smile shining out beneath his hoodie. He has the best smile. If a birthday present could be a smile, his would be the one wrapped like the thin
g you want most, its shape so distinct you’re 90 percent sure what’s inside, but still have to open it to see.

  He saunters up to me, tall and broad chested and so handsome it makes the breath catch in my throat.

  “Hey gorgeous,” he says, then wraps one hand around my waist and the other behind my head to pull me closer. He kisses me like he doesn’t care who’s watching, like he doesn’t care about getting caught. Oh. My. God.

  They always tell us that you can’t use kisses to judge a relationship, because everyone can kiss. Maybe everyone can kiss, but not everyone can kiss like him. When he finally pulls his lips from mine I have to stifle a giggle, stuck between giddy and scared and, well…excited.

  He twirls a finger through my hair, slowly twining me closer to his face. “God, I missed you,” he says. It’s been eight days since I’ve seen him. Too long.

  “Me too.” I kiss him back.

  I think I see someone in the parking lot then. A dark movement among the cars. I tug him away from the glass doors.

  “Come on,” I say. “We better hurry. I have to be back before the midnight service starts.” I grab Jackson’s hand and pull him with me as I run.

  We race down the South Wing and into to the south stairwell. We go up two flights. This floor is used for our theater and media teams. Half of it is dedicated to theater practice space and storage. The other half is all film and sound production. We have a full recording studio where we record choir music and inspirational spoken word. We also have a small sound stage that produces weekly video content for the website. It’s mostly just the pastors speaking, or promo videos for whatever they’re going to be preaching about next.

  I take him to the recording studio. It’s locked, there’s a lot of expensive equipment in there, but I nabbed my dad’s master key for this very purpose. Inside, Jackson’s eyes go wide.