Small Town Sinners Part 17

"It should be like that," I say, not wanting to hurt Dean.

"Not that that guy has the right to pick on you anywhere," Ty says.

"No," I say. "Of course not."

"And to do it so publicly, during personal prayer time," Starla Joy says. "It just seems ..."

"Bold," Ty says. "Geoff Parsons hasn't been punished; he hasn't had to answer for anything at all."

"He can't just keep doing this," says Starla Joy, sticking to the topic at hand. "Lacey, have you talked to your dad?"

"A little," I say. "I mean, not exactly about that, but-"

"Why not?" Starla Joy asks.

"I saw Geoff's scene last night," I say. "The Suicide scene."

"Too bad that real-looking gun isn't a real gun," Ty says. I look up at him harshly, and he says, "Kidding, kidding."

Then I turn back to Dean. I take in his black-markered nails and his baggy black sweatshirt, and I can't see his eyes under his asymmetrical hair.

"So how was it?" asks Starla Joy. "How was the Suicide scene?"

I take a breath. "It was amazing," I say. "Like Geoff knew that character and his pain inside out."

"He probably does," Dean says. "Even in first grade I remember thinking that Mr. Parsons was pretty much a giant b.a.s.t.a.r.d." He looks at me. "Not that I thought in those terms back then."

I can tell by the look in Dean's eyes that he's wondering how to feel about Geoff Parsons. Wondering if his pain grants him some kind of pa.s.s. I remember my father telling me that Geoff's going through a rough time at home, which could mean anything. Or nothing. I wasn't really listening when he said that-I was upset about Dean-but after seeing him act out such raw hurt, I can tell that he knows what pain feels like.

"There's something else," I say finally, pretending like I'm on a stage, about to make a big speech. "Something bigger."

"What is it?" asks Starla Joy.

"I think we're focused on the day-to-day of h.e.l.l House right now," I say, purposefully not addressing Ty. "So we can't see the larger picture."

"Believe me, I know every scene and the position of every lamp and table," says Dean. He smiles and I see a hint of his normal self again.

"Very nice, prop master," I say. "Beyond that, though, we have to remember the true purpose of this outreach. I think that's why my dad has been so permissive with Geoff."

I see Ty shift in his seat out of the corner of my eye, but I don't look at him. I'm talking to Starla Joy and Dean now-I'm not sure Ty will understand.

"You guys, Geoff is really compelling in the Suicide scene," I continue. "It's like he grabs the audience-even me, and I was mad as heck at him!"

"He must have really gotten to you to make you near-swear," says Dean, and I smile back at him.

"He did," I say. "I think when people walk through h.e.l.l House his scene is going to shake their souls."

"Like he was shaking Dean's shoulders?" Ty asks sarcastically.

I glance over at him for a moment, and I flash back to our night at Ulster Park. I felt so close to Ty in the darkness, but in the light my confusion seems weak. It's the church and h.e.l.l House that have been my whole life, not Ty. He's not my audience right now. Dean and Starla Joy are listening to me, and I know they'll understand where I'm coming from.

"You're saying it's for the greater good," says Starla Joy.

"Right!" I say. "If Geoff's scene is a linchpin for people, one that's going to convince them that Jesus is their Lord and Savior and they are going to walk through this performance and recommit to Him, then we need Geoff in the show. And no matter if he acts like, forgive me, a major jerk outside of h.e.l.l House, Geoff Parsons is going to save some souls!"

"You sound like your father, Lacey," says Ty. I ignore his warning tone and keep looking at my friends.

"I hadn't thought of it that way," Starla Joy says.

"I hadn't either, until I saw Geoff with that gun to his head," I say. "I almost melted to the floor."

"It was that intense?" asks Dean, peeking through his veil of dark hair and looking right into my eyes.

"Yes," I say honestly.

Starla Joy exhales. She looks over at Dean.

"For the glory of h.e.l.l House, I shall put aside my Geoff beef," he says, holding up his arm in a power fist.

He breaks up laughing, but I know I've won him over. I smile and reach in to hug him.

"Wait till you see him in the scene," I say, getting excited.

Ty scoffs with a snort through his nose, interrupting me.

"Are you serious?" he asks, sounding disgusted.

"What?" I ask him, leaning back from Dean and crossing my arms over my chest.

"You guys think that because he's a good actor he doesn't have to be a good person," says Ty.

"That isn't it," Starla Joy says. "Maybe you don't know because you've been gone for so long, but it's important for h.e.l.l House to be amazing."

I nod in agreement.

"It saves lives," I say, uncrossing my arms and reaching out to Ty.

He pulls away. "It's extreme," he says.

"We understand that feeling," Starla Joy says. "Pastor Frist has told us that the media and some people misinterpret what we're doing, but it all comes down to saving souls."

"Yeah," Dean says. "It's not like we don't know that it's shocking. I'm shaping hamburger meat into the form of Lacey's baby for a prop!"

The three of us laugh then, but Ty doesn't even smile. He looks hard at Dean. "Do you hear yourself, man?" he asks softly.

"I'm joking around," Dean says. "Come on."

"Remember what my dad said to you that first day?" I ask Ty, interrupting them. "You've gotta shake 'em to wake 'em? It's really true."

"Kids get adults talking to them all day long about what they should learn and how they should be," Starla Joy says, jumping in. "But h.e.l.l House is our chance to show people our own age what the consequences are if you don't accept Jesus into your heart. And it's shocking-it has to be so they'll pay attention."

Ty doesn't move, and now he's not looking at any of us. I wonder if we're losing him, if I'm losing him.

Then Ty turns his face toward us, still not meeting anyone's gaze. His own blue eyes look a little teary, like he's fighting back a strong emotion. But his mouth is hardened and angry.

My heart aches because I know I've probably encouraged Ty's doubt with my own. I never should have shared that with him. The devil waits for doubt and then makes it spread and fly like dandelion seeds on the wind.

"Lacey," Ty says, turning to me, "I thought you were opening up. I thought we understood each other."

I feel Starla Joy and Dean staring at me, wondering what Ty means. I can't tell them that I, too, have had doubts about the House of Enlightenment, my father, and Pastor Frist.

"I understand that you're lost right now, Ty," I say. "And we're here. We're always here to help you come back to true believing."

I grab Starla Joy's hand, and she grabs Dean's. The three of us stand there, facing Ty together.

But Ty turns and walks into the shadow of the woods without another word. Starla Joy, Dean, and I stand there for another few seconds. I have the urge to go after Ty, but I don't want my friends to wonder what I was opening up to him about. I don't want them to think my faith is wavering.

"I hope he sees the light and love that I'm trying to send his way," I say. "I hope he feels it."

"I'm sure he does," says Starla Joy.

Dean says that he should get going, and we separate then, heading back to our own houses.

I sit through dinner with my parents, bowing my head for prayer and smiling at all the right moments. It feels good to have the tension between Dad and me out of the way.

But later, as I lie in bed and look up at my stars, I let myself think about Ty and what happened this afternoon. The closeness I've felt to him is real, and so were the doubts I shared. But they were clouded by my own self-involvement; I wasn't seeing the bigger picture. Right?

Chapter Twenty-three.

A few days go by where Ty doesn't show up at school. It's like he's hiding from the world. I'm not sure if he's still upset with me or if he feels ashamed or what. But I'm determined to talk to him. I know he's a believer deep down; I know he's good.

After four unanswered texts, he finally replies to the fifth and agrees to meet me at Ulster Park on Sat.u.r.day after my shift at Joey's. I'm anxious all day-I spill iced tea on Mrs. Sharp's silk flowered blouse, I get four orders mixed up during the lunch rush, and I burn my fingers on the hush puppy fryer when I forget to grab a rag to take them out of the hot oil. After that, Mel lets me leave early.

"You're doing more harm than good today, Lacey," he says. "Must be all those h.e.l.l House rehearsals. I hear it's gonna be a whopper this year."

"You got that right," I say, smiling. I'm glad I've thrown myself back into the performance without reservation. I can see things from all angles now, and I realize that I'm working for the greater good. I just have to convince Ty of that too.

I take off my ap.r.o.n and head to the car. I figure I'll get to Ulster Park a little early and wait. But when I drive up, the red BMW is already there. Ty's leaning back in his seat and the radio is blasting an old Rolling Stones song through the open windows.

I walk up to the driver's side and lean in. "Hey," I say.

Ty starts. "Oh! Hey!" he says, smiling and laughing at his own jumpiness. "I was really feeling the cla.s.sic rock for a minute there."

I laugh at him and move aside as he opens his door, relieved that it already feels easy between us, that he isn't acting mad.

When he steps out of the car and stands up, I give in to the urge to hug him. I put my arms around his waist and rest my chin on his shoulder. I close my eyes and stand there for a minute, until he wraps his arms around my shoulders and holds me back.

When we break apart, he looks more serious, and he goes around to the trunk to grab our sleeping bag. We set it up on the hill without talking, just going through the motions.

I keep a paraphrase from the book of James in my head: "Let every person be slow to speak, quick to listen." That's how I want to approach this day. I want to listen and really hear Ty. Because I know we're on the same side. I can feel it.

We sit for a few minutes in the shade. The leaves have turned now, their summery green changed to fall's brown. I take a few deep breaths, slowly and quietly, hoping Ty will go first. But I asked him to meet me here, after all. I guess I should start.

"So why haven't you been in school?" I ask, avoiding the hard part.

"I just had to do some thinking," Ty says. "You know how school gets in the way of that."

He smirks a little and I grin back.

"Yeah," I say. "School hasn't exactly been easy this year for any of us."

"Especially for Dean," he says, looking at me.

"Yeah," I say, hoping we don't have to talk about Geoff Parsons again.

I can feel Ty looking at me intensely now. It's like the right side of my face is heating up under his gaze. "Do you get it, Lacey?" Ty asks, his tone getting harder. "It's like Dean's never going to be able to be himself in this town."

"Dean's himself," I say. "He doesn't conform. He's always been a little weird, but in a good way. I mean, look at his nail polish!"

I laugh again, trying to lighten the mood, but Ty's done smiling.

"He's trying to be himself," Ty says. "In little ways, like with the nails or his hair or even the way he dresses in all black. It's all these parts of him trying to get out, but here they're all stuffed up inside of him."

I remember that Dean and Ty have a friendship too. That they hang out and play video games, and they went to see the new slasher movie together with Graham Andrews when Starla Joy and I deemed it too b.l.o.o.d.y for us. What have they been talking about?

"What do you mean?" I ask. "Do you know something about Dean?"

"I don't know anything about Dean that anyone with any common sense wouldn't wonder," says Ty.

"Do you think Dean is gay?" I ask. And I'm surprised when I hear the word come out of my own mouth. I've never asked anyone that, never said it out loud. It gets hurled at Dean sometimes, as an insult, a word that hurts. People here don't always get that he's different so they try to a.s.sign a label. But now that I'm asking, I'm not sure how I feel about it, if it's attached to my friend for real.

"I don't know," Ty says. "And that's not the point anyway, Lacey."

"Well, it's a pretty big word to throw around!" I say.

"I didn't throw it around," Ty says. "You did."

He's right, but he knows he planted the seed in my head.

"But did he say something to you?" I ask, looking up at Ty curiously.