Authors: Jackson Pearce
Tags: #Juvenile Fiction, #Social Issues, #Dating & Sex, #Family, #General, #Adolescence, #Juvenile Nonfiction, #Values & Virtues, #JUV039190
Purity (23 page)
“Jonas!” Dad says, waving as we step out of the car.
“Good to see you again.” He walks forward and grabs Jonas’s hand in a firm shake.
“You, too, Mr. Crewe.” Jonas’s eyes dart from Dad back to me. Dad turns to look at me, and I give a small smile. It gets the message across.
“Well, then, I’m gonna go inside…. I think
Deadliest Catch
is on again. Marathon, you know,” Dad says, jamming his key in the front door, then hurrying through it. I hear the TV turn on and the volume goes way up, louder than normal.
“Hey,” Jonas says in a fake casual voice. “I… this is dumb, but you didn’t call me after the thing with Jeffery, and then I heard from Ruby you’d gone through with it, and I just… are you okay?”
I smile. “I’m fine. Really.”
“So… okay… was it… how was…”
“It was nothing, really,” I say. “I thought about Mom, actually. And, well… you.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah…” I inhale. Silence filters around us.
“I also kind of came to apologize for the stuff I said,” Jonas says. “I don’t know what I was talking about. I just was irritated and stuff, the whole LOVIN thing….”
“You didn’t mean any of it?” I ask, leaning against the front door.
Jonas looks at the rose in his hand. “I didn’t mean to yell,” he says. “And I should have told you about Anna—”
“I didn’t mean to have sex with Jeffery,” I interrupt. “I mean, I did, but…”
Jonas nods, looking relieved. I relax, so does he. “So,” he continues after a deep breath, “you look like a lovely virgin princess. How were the vows?”
“Didn’t go through with them. Actually, I delivered a kick-ass speech and walked out.”
“How’d your dad take that?”
“Well,” I say, smiling.
We stand in silence for a moment, a nervousness I’ve never experienced before around Jonas. There’s so much I want to say, and so much I’m afraid to say.
“So… is that flower for me, in honor of my recent ball attendance?” I nod toward the rose in his hand.
“Um… no, actually,” he says, and a grin spreads across his face.
“Oh?”
Jonas meets my eyes, face a little sheepish. “It’s for your mom. You know, so you can officially cross it off your list.”
I pause, nod slowly. “Hang on just a second.” Before Jonas can answer, I dash inside the house and up to my bedroom. The list is there, in my jewelry box. I could keep it. I could do it alone—I’ve
done
it alone. But why would I want to?
Jonas gives me a curious look when I step back out onto the porch. I hold the list out gingerly. Jonas looks down, smiles a little, takes it from my fingers, and pulls his wallet from his back pocket. He puts the list back in the billfold, in the same spot it’s always been, then looks back up at me.
I want to say something—I mean to say something, but I can’t find the words. I don’t need them, though. Jonas
extends a hand, and I fold my fingers into his. We walk to the car, my dress rustling along through the grass, and for a tiny, glimmering, beautiful moment, I forget about purity, I forget about promises, and I forget about faith.
All I can think about is love.
I got the idea for
Purity
while driving down a rural Georgia road. At the time, I thought it’d be a light, fluffy, funny story about a girl losing her virginity. Then came the first draft, and the story that seemed simple became a much more introspective, philosophical tale than I’d anticipated, and required more soul-searching than anything else I’ve written. I couldn’t have possibly made it through without the help of a large handful of supporters. Enormous thanks is owed to:
Sarah Ockler, Lauren Barnholdt, Heidi Kling, and Saundra Mitchell for reading early drafts of
Purity
and telling me to dig deeper, go farther, and be fearless. Carrie Ryan, Maggie Stiefvater, and the Debs community for lending an ear whenever I got stuck.
Kristen Stanaland and LuAnn Stanaland for inspiring the relationship between Shelby and her mother. R.J. Anderson for candid discussions about religion and spirituality without judgment or agenda. Jim McCarthy for loving this story as much as I did and for talking me off cliffs in moments of blind freak-out panic.
My mom and Grandma Jackson for inspiring the french fries scene (and half of this book); Papa for teaching me how to let go; Grandma and Granddaddy Pearce for making me believe in true and lasting love; my sister for being as weird as I am (and being okay with it).
And, of course, my dad for fixing everything that’s ever been broken, from my refrigerator to my confidence.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author. To the extent any real names of individuals, locations, or organizations are included in the book, they are used fictitiously and not intended to be taken otherwise.
Copyright © 2012 by Jackson Pearce
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First e-book edition: April 2012
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ISBN 978-0-316-20198-8