“Do you think you’ll ask him out or something?” I said.
“I don’t know. What is there to even do around here? Maybe we’ll just hang out at the volunteer site. And find someplace to sneak off to when the time is right.”
We both laughed again.
We were supposed to start work tomorrow. None of us were sure exactly what that meant. We’d come here to do construction on a church that the local congregation had already started building. None of us knew the first thing about construction, but my dad and the other chaperones said they’d teach us. I only hoped they didn’t make me climb ladders. I was afraid of heights.
My back felt stiff from sitting on the ground, so I stood on my tiptoes and stretched my arms over my head, arching my spine so my braids hung straight down. This time, I couldn’t resist gazing up at the stars. They were closer out here than they were within the stone courtyard walls.
In that moment, it felt like we were the entire world. Just me and those gorgeous stars.
It was colder out here, too, away from the lights of the houses. We weren’t really in the desert, even though that was what I’d expected when I signed up to come to Mexico. Here there were trees and stuff, and it had been hot during the day but not that hot. Now that it was dark, it was only sixty-something degrees.
I lowered myself back down from my toes and rubbed my bare arms, wishing I’d worn more than my T-shirt and jeans. Then I remembered my missing suitcase. I didn’t have anything else to wear.
“We’re going into town on Saturdays, right?” I asked Lori. “Maybe you and Paul could do something while we’re there.”
“Or maybe you and that girl could.” Lori smirked.
“Oh, whatever.” But I couldn’t help smiling.
I wasn’t sure if lesbians even went on dates. Did anyone, really? I’d been on one official date in my entire life, to a dance at a school I didn’t go to with a blue-haired guy who threw up because he drank a beer.
I’d wondered what it would be like to have a real boyfriend. Maybe a girlfriend, too. Someday.
Just the idea of a girlfriend seemed like it was from a whole different life. I mean, even if Christa had been flirting with me back in the courtyard, that didn’t mean she actually wanted to go out with me. She must’ve been able to tell I didn’t know anything about being gay.
Heck, she probably thought I was straight. I might as well have been, for all I’d done so far.
Was Christa bi, too? Maybe she was into Rodney. Or someone else. Maybe she hadn’t really been flirting with me at all.
“So do you like her?” Lori asked me.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe?”
“I knew it!” Lori pumped her fist. “I could so tell when you were looking at her before.”
“It doesn’t matter. She isn’t interested.”
“How do you know?”
I shrugged. There was no reason someone like Christa would want someone like me. I’d never even kissed a girl.
It wasn’t as if I didn’t want to. Lately, kissing was all I thought about. Boys. Girls. My daydreams didn’t discriminate.
That was where my theory had really gotten started.
Christa had probably kissed tons of girls. And done more than kiss.
I’d been daydreaming about that a lot lately, too.
“You’re smiling again,” Lori said.
“Oh, shut it. Hey, do you think—”
Before I could finish, Lori clapped her hand over my mouth and held her finger to her lips, her eyes bulging. Now that we were quiet, I could hear it, too. Gravel crunching behind me, then footsteps on the dirt.
“Hi, you guys,” a voice said.
I turned. It was too dark to get a good look from this distance. But I knew it was Christa.
“Hey there.” Lori was grinning, as usual. “I’m glad you came out here. I wanted to ask you something.”
Oh, no. I was too far away to elbow Lori, so I glared at her. She ignored me.
“Shoot.” Christa was close enough now that I could see a design on the inside of her wrist. It looked like a tattoo, but I could’ve sworn it wasn’t there when I’d seen her in the courtyard earlier. It was purple. Some kind of complicated knot.
Lori lowered her voice. “You’re into girls, right?”
My eyes jerked up. I couldn’t believe Lori said things like that. I would never say something like that to someone she had a crush on. But Christa didn’t seem to mind.
“For sure,” she said. “But don’t tell my parents, okay?”
“Deal.” Lori laughed. “So what kind of girls do you like? You know, generally. Tall, short, long hair, short hair...”
Christa glanced over at me. I tried to smile, but my face felt all wobbly. I shifted from one foot to the other. Why did Lori have to be this way? Why?
“I think,” Christa said slowly, “right now, if I were to describe exactly the kinds of girls I like, I’d say...tall, with long hair, in braids. With big dark eyes and pretty smiles. Oh, and I especially have a thing for preacher’s daughters who wear vintage hip-hop T-shirts.”
I beamed and tugged on one of my braids. I’d worn my favorite Usher shirt on the plane. It was only three years old, so it didn’t exactly qualify as vintage, and Usher wasn’t so much hip-hop as R&B with some light hip-hop influences. But I did not care even the tiniest bit about those things right then.
“And I like girls with nose rings who draw stuff on their wrists,” I said. It wasn’t the cleverest thing I could’ve come up with, but the truth was, just saying “I like girls” took so much out of me, I didn’t have energy left for cleverness. It was the first time I’d admitted it to anyone but Lori.
Now I was definitely doing something.
Christa took a step toward me. Someone else was coming through the swinging door, but I didn’t look to see who it was. I didn’t want to see anyone but Christa.
“That’s truly excellent news,” Christa said. “Because I happen to believe that the process of creating is what makes people interesting. Any kind of creating, I mean, but let’s be honest—music is the best art there is. It’s the purest. And, well, I’m actually a little obsessed with musicians. It’s kind of my thing.”
My stomach tightened again. I could tell from her voice that Christa was joking, at least sort of. But now I really wished I hadn’t messed up my verb tenses earlier. I’d already promised myself to never again create so much as a single note.
But with the way Christa was looking at me now, I knew there was no way I was ever going to tell her that.
And that meant I was now most definitely lying to her. About something she seemed to care about a lot.
I swallowed and dropped my gaze down to my feet.
“Er, I mean, sorry, Lori, no offense.” Christa turned her still-joking voice to my best friend. “I don’t know if you’re an artist. It’s totally okay if you’re not.”
“I make jewelry,” Lori offered.
“That totally counts!” Christa turned back to me, smiling. I met her eyes, folding my shaky hands behind my back. “Anyway. I have to go, because I promised my friends we’d go back early to claim the best spot for our sleeping bags. But can I come find you tomorrow?”
“You