“Jameson?” Yasmin’s voice meets us before she appears around the curve in the hall. She’s coming from the direction of the bathroom.So much for that head start.
Her eyes narrow on us together. “What are you doing?”
Jameson stiffens, his face tightening as if he’s been caught doing something wrong. “I was just—”
“You don’t need to explain yourself,” Yasmin says, her gaze landing on me. “I mean Clarity. What, are you still trying to drag people down with you? Haven’t you hurt him enough?”
Mehurthim? Jameson is the one who pulled away, who decided he couldn’t be my friend if I continued to “choose sin.” I haven’t done anythingtohim, not at camp and not now.
But Jameson doesn’t speak up and correct her. He just stands there, silent and uncomfortable.
“I didn’t—”
Yasmin cuts me off, her voice colder now. “I don’t even know why you still come here—”
“I come here because this is my church,” I tell her. Despite my trepidations, those words settle in me with their truth.
“It’s not like you’re a real Christian,” she snaps.
Jameson’s attention bolts to her, and his mouth falls open. She doesn’t notice as she loops her arm through his and says, “Come on, Jameson. Let’s go.”
He hesitates, his eyes flicking to mine with a hint of something—regret, maybe? But then Yasmin tugs on his arm and he lets her lead him to the exit.
I linger in the alcove to watch them get into Yasmin’s car and drive away, and to collect myself. My composure finally buckles when her car disappears. I can’t breathe in the wake of that accusation:not a real Christian.
Good daughter, good student,good Christian. Those have always been my molds, my north stars whenever I needed to come back to myself. And yes, this summer I became more…but I didn’t think I stopped being any of those things.
The thought that I might not be a Christian anymore floods me with doubt. I’ve attended so many Bible studies and heard a plethora of scripture interpretations: that real Christians don’t sin like this, that loving a girl could mean I’m rejecting God. But there are also verses that remind us that we all fall short of perfection because we all sin. What makes us Christian, what makes us faithful and worthy of God’s love and mercy is our choice to repent…
But loving Hannah isn’t something I feel I need to ask forgiveness for. That love is part of who I am, not something I regret or want to erase. So where does that leave me?
What if Yasmin is right? If I don’t see who I am as a sin, and I don’t repent, does that mean I’m not truly following God?
Chapter Twenty-Three
“I’m kidnapping you, and you can’t say no. I need you for a photography assignment and it’s Wednesday, which means you don’t have festival committee today,” Kristen gushes, her hand wrapped around my wrist as if I’m going to try to run away.
“?‘Clarity, I need your help with a photography project’ or ‘Clarity, can you please help me with something after school’ or ‘Clarity, hi, how are you?’ All viable options that don’t involve cutting the circulation off to my hand,” I tease. “But yes, I can help you.”
Kristen lets go of my wrist so I can finish shoving folders into my bag before closing my locker.
“I didn’t know if you were going to be busy with your new friends,” she admits, holding her hands up in surrender. “You’ve been running off with them after school. I feel like you never need a ride from me anymore.”
I roll my eyes. I know she’s only half kidding, but the comment still strikes a nerve. Ever since I found out Hannah told Rowena about our relationship, I’ve been avoiding her and theteam. Outside of yesterday’s meeting, I’ve been using an essay I have due this week to dodge our nightly FaceTime calls, and I haven’t tagged along to any more of their games.
And now that Yasmin has called me out, I wonder if I’m doingeverythingwrong. I might not be a good Christian. I don’t feel like a good girlfriend. And lying definitely means I’m not being a good best friend.
“It hasn’t been that much,” I tell Kristen as we start down the hall. “Plus, I figure, the less I need rides from you, the more time you can spend with Vincent.”
We pass Hannah’s locker on our way toward the art wing. The team has an away game today, far enough from Stow that they got to leave halfway through last period. I was relieved to know I wouldn’t run into the team after school today, that I wouldn’t have to come up with an excuse not to sneak in some time with Hannah.Relieved and guilty.
“Clarity,” Kristen huffs, “call me toxic, but Ilikewhen you need me. Okay? I want to give you rides and get Starbucks and spend time with you.”
What about your boyfriend?
I swallow the thought, knowing it’s not entirely fair. Kristen doesn’t have to choose between Vincent and me, nor do I want to make her feel bad for being happy. While Vincent was a jerk in the past, I’ve noticed the way he makes her smile, and how much time they spend together. She tries to include me, and while it doesn’t always work out, it’s more than I can say for myself.
Not giving Kristen a chance to save the committee was anoversight. But not inviting her to the baking party was wrong. I want to make it up to her, like I promised.