South of Sunshine (15 page)

Mother follows me, tight on my heels. “How good of a friend is this Bren girl anyway? I really don’t know her family all that well. I’m not sure I like you being buddy-buddy with her all of a sudden. Have you thought about how this might make Sarabeth feel?”

I swing around in my doorway so fast, it catches Mother off guard. “It’s not ‘all of a sudden.’ And Sarabeth and I are still BFFs. No worries there.” Even though I really don’t know where we stand after the other night. I give Mother my brightest smile. She cracks her lips as if she’s about to add something. “I’ve got to get ready for church. We don’t want to be late.” I shut the door in her face.

For the longest moment, I rest my forehead against the wooden door. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. What the
heck
have you gotten yourself into, Kaycee?

The memory of Bren’s body next to mine flashes into my thoughts and makes me all warm and giggly. It’s useless to fight it. I’ve gone and done it. I’ve fallen in love, and there ain’t no going back.

Chapter 16

A blanket and a boyfriend—or girlfriend if that’s the case—are the only two things you need on a hayride. I don’t know what I was thinking when I agreed to come on this.

Orange wispy clouds slide thinly across the sky as the day ends. Bren and I wait in the church parking lot along with the entire youth group. Brother Mark, our youth pastor—who bounces around like a Jack Russell terrier—divides the youth into two groups: older and younger. Two parent chaperones round up the younger, rowdier bunch of kids. Hay fights ensue before the tractor even starts.

Mrs. Kitty, Brother Mark’s new wife, clips across the parking lot in jeans and heels, ready to be our sole chaperone. God help her. She’s all of five feet, maybe five-four with heels, and sweet as kittens. The newlywed couple saddle up on the tiny tractor seat, “trusting” us older, more responsible youth to conduct ourselves in a Godly manner.

Yeah, right.

“So we just ride around on this trailer of hay?” Bren asks. Her voice is full of puzzlement.

“Yep.”

“I don’t get it.”

I smile. “Bren, honey, there’s nothing to get. It’s a just a good ole southern tradition. Just sit back, relax, and enjoy what autumn has to offer.” I point over to a hundred-year-old oak tree full of orange and red leaves.

“Hey, guys.” Chuck links arms with Bren and me as we climb onto the hay trailer. “No chaperones tonight,” He whispers. He waggles his brows.

Sarabeth overhears. Her eyes swing back and forth between Bren and me as if she half expects us to confess something. Or it could just be my paranoia running loose again.

“Should be fun,” I say with a shaky laugh. Twelve kids from high school ride in the trailer. All of them pair off into obvious couples except Bren and me. Even Chuck the Buck brought Kimi, a girl from the Methodist Church.

The churn of the tractor engine sputters and pops to life. I grab the railing as the tractor jerks forward, starting the long ride out to the pastor’s farm where a Bible study, weenie roast, and s’mores await.

Hay bales line the wood-slat walls of the long trailer. Loose straw covers the floor. Standing on my tiptoes, my chin rests on top of the railing, and I can see houses creeping by. Bolls of cotton dot the roadside. The evening wind blows over my face. Bren stands next to me, her hair flapping and her mouth open wide with a huge smile.

“Once we get on the highway,” I yell over the tractor’s chugging engine, “you better close your trap, or you’ll be picking bugs out of your teeth.”

Bren clamps her mouth shut and leans back inside the trailer real quick like.

“Don’t worry, I think I could overlook a few bugs,” I say, bumping shoulders with her. I suppress the urge to smooth her windblown hair.

From behind, I catch Sarabeth observing us. After a moment she walks over. “You don’t mind if I snag her for a sec, do you?” she asks Bren, as if she needs permission to borrow me.

“Not at all.” Bren gives me a quick glance, checking to see if I’m okay talking with Sarabeth alone. I reassure her with a smile, even though inside I’m a bundle of nerves. Bren helps some of the other girls untangle and straighten the wire hangers for roasting.

Sarabeth and I should talk. Avoiding my best friend because I’m worried about what she knows or suspects isn’t the answer.

“I’m glad you brought Bren. I can see you’re
close
with her.” There’s a tightness to her words. I can’t tell if it’s jealousy or restraint. “It feels like forever since we’ve carpooled to school. You’re, like, MIA at lunch, and we never catch up after school either.”

“Yeah, I know.” There’s a whole lot of guilt eating me up for how distant I’ve been. I’m dying to have my BFF around and to tell her every giddy detail about Bren and me, but I’m not sure how she’d respond. Moments like now, I want to believe she loves me enough to accept me for me.

“Who am I supposed to subject my fashion prowess on if I don’t have you around to torture? I tried with the M&M twins, but—ugh—they’re beyond help,” she says, nudging my knee.

I return the nudge. “I miss you too.” I know exactly what she means. I miss her scatterbrained excitement, even at the cost of a wardrobe assassination. I didn’t mean to get caught up with Bren like this, but I can’t seem to get enough of her, no matter how much time I spend with her.

Bren looks up from bending hangers and smiles. I return her smile.

Sarabeth watches our exchange and frowns. “I’m just not sure if I’ve been replaced … or what.” The “or what” lingers heavy in the air.

A long silent moment passes, as if I’m supposed to clarify one way or the other.

When I don’t offer anything, she says, “I know it’s not easy for you to talk to your momma about stuff. And you know I’m your best friend; you can tell me anything.” She seems to hold her breath.

This is my moment. It feels like it’s her way of telling me she’s accepting me for what I am, that I can talk with her about it openly. That I can tell her I’m gay, and that Bren’s my girlfriend. I could start small—tell her how close I feel toward Bren—and ease my way into the full-blown truth.

Here’s my opportunity to take a chance with someone I trust and love, and risk …

Everything.

But I’m too chicken to admit anything. “Yeah. I know,” is all I say.

Her mouth presses into a tight line. “The last thing I’d want is to lose you as a friend. I don’t have to worry about that, do I?” Her brow pops up in question.

“All’s good here.” I attempt a smile and leave it at that.

At the pastor’s farm, a white fence surrounds the property. The long driveway leads to a quaint farmhouse next to a well-used barn. Huge round bundles of hay stipple the open field. Crickets chirp in staccato with the bellowed calls of bullfrogs.

A circle forms around the bonfire; the younger kids are drawn to it like bugs to a porch light. The Bible study is short and sweet. No hellfires nip at my heels tonight. After hotdogs are eaten and marshmallows are burned, the chaperones allow the younger kids to play. Mason jars are passed out to the little ones to catch the lightning bugs. A few others play spotlight tag.

As the night grows darker and the chaperones less attentive, couples slip away into the dark. Bren and I are the only older kids still hanging around the bonfire. The temptation is too strong to resist.

I motion with a nod of my head for Bren to follow me. She silently does, her lips fighting the urge to smile. I can’t help but feel like I’m luring her to my evil lair. Female giggles peal from the hay trailer as we walk past. Someone else taking advantage of the dark.

Just beyond the glow of the barn’s floodlight, darkness drinks us in. Bren’s warm hand glides over mine, and she pulls me along as she sees the giant hay bale I’m headed for. The second we are out of sight, her lips find mine with only the slightest bit of fumbling. She’s warm and unhurried, taking her time with the kiss. I tip up on my toes, seeking more of her mouth, wanting to drag her down on me.

Tonight, being conscious of that appropriate distance for friends has been draining. About the only place I can relax and be Bren’s girlfriend is at her house. Being here with her, under the stars with a fat country moon to hypnotize us, I can’t imagine any other place I’d like to be.

“Spotlight on—” Sarabeth’s voice cuts off. A ray of light centers on us.

A cold shot stops my heart, and I shove Bren away from me. The push is so quick, it’s like a punch. Bren’s broken expression pains me.

It’s too late; Sarabeth has already gotten an eyeful. The flashlight tips lower in Sarabeth’s hand. Her jaw hangs open. The numb expression on her face—it’s as if she’s seen a ghost.

“Sarabeth, we were just—” What? What can I say that would make her believe anything other than what she just saw?

“How could you?” Sarabeth’s voice is small, incredulous. Her face contorts as if she’s about to be sick.

Andrew rushes up behind Sarabeth and shines the flashlight on us too. “Who’d you catch—Oh … are y’all playing too?” he asks with a lopsided grin.

My heartbeat thuds in my throat, cutting off my oxygen, my words, my life. The pit of my stomach drops. I look to Bren, half expecting for her to brilliantly explain this all away, but she stands there, stoic.

Pissed.

Sarabeth gawks in shock. I should say something. Explain myself. Offer up an apology. Something. I ease closer to Sarabeth, and she begins to back away, as if I might infect her.

Andrew aims his flashlight at each one of us. “What kind of sick shit is going on over here?”

Sarabeth jerks her head toward Andrew and opens her mouth to speak.

“Don’t—” I blurt out to her, my eyes pleading. “Please,” I beg, for what, I’m not sure. Forgiveness. Understanding. Silence.

She just shakes her head in frustration and storms off. The way Andrew glares at me, I’m thinking he’s pretty clued in on what’s happening. Disgust radiates off him like a heater. Bren refuses to look me in the eye.

“Sarabeth, wait.” I chase after her. But her angry steps have taken her almost to the barn. “Sarabeth, please. Talk to me.” I have to jog to catch up with her. “Sarabeth.” I bark a harsh whisper, trying to stop her before she joins the rest of the youth group by the campfire. When she doesn’t slow or respond, I grab her by the elbow. “Please, talk to me. Let me explain.”

She whips around, tearing free from my grasp. “Explain what?” Venom and spite lace her voice.

Her anger pushes me back a step.

“What are you thinking?” Sarabeth checks over her shoulder to see who’s in earshot. Even though we are far enough away from the group not to be heard, she pushes me more behind the barn to keep us out of sight. She plants her hands on her hips. She lowers her voice. “How could you do this to me?”

“Do this to
you
?” I can’t seem to grasp how on earth I could be causing her harm.

“I defended you, Kaycee. Everybody kept speculating these last couple of weeks, but I told them they were wrong. I put it out there several times for you to open up to me, but no, not one peep. I’m your best friend for God’s sake, if anyone should know it should be me! Now you’ve made me look like an idiot. An idiot for believing I knew who you were better than them, while
everybody
else knew what you were.”

I’m dumbfounded into silence.

“Bet you opened up to your buddy Van, didn’t you?” she asks, the last words with a grave note of conviction. Betrayal sours her face. I want to make it all go away, to disappear, and yet I can’t seem to find the words to speak.

“Was our friendship all a lie?” her voice cracks.

Every since we were little, we dreamed and schemed about our future. Houses built next door to each other. Daughters who were best friends just like us, inseparable. Except the farm I dream of doesn’t exist in Sunshine, where people still think being gay is a “lifestyle.” The children I want might not ever be accepted in this small-minded town. I’ve always dreamed of the happily ever after, but there has never been a man at the end of the aisle waiting for me. How was I supposed to tell her that?

“No. I just … it was never supposed to be like this. I never knew how to tell …” I stop. I want to reassure her it’s me. It’ll always be me in this skin no matter what I am. The words feel small, unimportant. Years of tradition and moral rules have been bred into the both of us. Nothing I can say or do can melt those years away. Even I can’t let go of the fear of admitting what I am. Here and now, it stares me in the face and threatens to take away my best friend.

Sarabeth shakes her head. “No. No.” Her head keeps shaking. “You can’t do this. Not here. Not like this. I won’t let you. This is a church hayride. Your mother, do you know what this is going to do to her?”

My heart skips a beat. “Please don’t tell her, Sarabeth. She can’t know. Not now. Not ever.”

“You can’t keep something like this from her. What if you get hurt? Or hurt yourself? People can be brutally cruel. Gay suicides are all over the news. Have you considered how this will affect your mother? Imagine her shame. The embarrassment. You’re not thinking this through.”

I surge forward and clasp Sarabeth’s hands between mine. “Oh God. Please don’t say anything. I swear it won’t ever happen again. I … I promise. You can’t tell my mother. I’ll stay out of harm’s way, and you won’t need to say a word. Please tell me you won’t gossip about this with anybody.”

“Wow.” She yanks away from my grasp. “I can’t believe you’d think I—you know what? This isn’t on me if it’s out in the world. You should have thought about that before you decided to make out with a girl in front of God and everybody.”

“I don’t know what came over me. Bren was just there. It was nothing. She’s nothing.” I hate myself for saying it. For letting my fear of exposure overtake me. But I can’t seem to stop myself. “It was nothing but me experimenting. I swear.” I try to step closer to her, but she only backs away as if I’m diseased. Her lips pinch together, but her eyes scan over me, as if she’s considering the validity of my words.

Sarabeth huffs. “Even now you’re lying to me. And here I thought I knew my best friend.” Sarabeth glances past my shoulder and scowls.

I know Bren’s standing there without even looking, though I’m not sure how long it’s been. I’m terrified to turn around and face her.

“You know what? Fine, might as well go ahead and label me an anti-gay bigot just like the majority of the people in this town. Because obviously, you think I’m too close-minded to be anything else,” Sarabeth says, glancing at Bren one last time. Then she marches off to join the others.

Slowly I pivot around to face Bren. There’s a sickening look of shock mixed with sadness on her face. Andrew walks up behind her. He glares at her, then at me as he passes, not saying a word. I’m not sure what Bren said to him. I peek back over my shoulder and wait until he’s around the barn before I speak.

I’m horrified at what has come out of my mouth. Angry at myself for being a chicken. I’d do anything,
anything
to take it all back. Every single word. “Bren, I’m so—”

She raises her hand to silence me. She stares off to the side as if she can’t stand the sight of me. “Nothing?” Her eyes are filled with so much hurt. “It was more than nothing to me. I thought it was for you too.”