Page 72 of Intermission

“I went to your mom’s office, but after the front desk guy called her to announce me, he kicked me out and threatened to call security if I came back.”

“I know. She told me about that. I’m sorry.”

“The guy looked a little scared of me. It was freaky. Did she tell you what she said to him? I mean... never mind. Maybe I don’t want to know.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it. I think he’s new. She—” I sigh. “She goes through a lot of assistants. His reaction probably had nothing to do with you and more to do with the toxins that dripped off his marching orders.”

“Oh.”

My eyes are on the runners, but even though I easily identify Jenna sprinting toward the first hurdle of her race, my mind barely notes the grace with which she sails over the first, second, and third hurdles. The crowd cheers, and I half-heartedly applaud my friend before turning back to Noah.

“What about your boss’s wife, Dr. MacIntosh? She works at the hospital. Maybe she could talk to my dad at work. Put in a good word for you.”

“I already thought of that. No dice.” Noah shakes his head. “Amanda tried to talk to your dad after a staff meeting, but he shut her down.”

Beneath the blanket, I link my arm through Noah’s. He weaves his fingers through mine.

“Don’t give up.” I squeeze his hand. “There has to be a way. I mean, they’re still letting me go to your church on Wednesday nights, right?”

“About that.” Noah lets out a long breath. “I guess your mom called the church to make sure your Bible study was for high school girls only. And that I wasn’t involved.”

“Unfreakingbelievable.” Except it is, unfortunately, too believable, since it’s my mom. “But I should have known. Like she’d believe I could be in the same building as you and not have to rip my clothes off.”

“Well, she must have been pretty convincing, because Pastor Luke—he’s the youth pastor—”

“Yeah, I know.”

“He cornered me last Sunday and asked... Well, he wanted to make sure that we weren’t, um, doing anything like that.”

Noah’s ears are pink, and I suspect it isn’t all from the wind. How could anyone think he’s the sort of guy who would...

But that’s the problem. My parents don’t know him.

“I haven’t done anything to deserve this. I’m one of the good girls.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but do you think your mom is harder on you because she’s trying to make up for letting Gretchen get away with so much in high school?”

“You assume my mom would admit Gretchen was anything other than perfect.” I pick at a loose thread on the blanket. “No, it’s not that. My mom is one hundred percent blind when it comes to the Golden Child. Gretchen probably could have told Mom every single thing she was doing, in graphic detail, and it wouldn’t have mattered. Mom’s double standard is infuriating, but it’s nothing new. This isn’t about Gretchen. Honestly, I don’t even think it’s about you being too old or too religious or whatever. It’s about me being too artsy. Because artsy people can’t be trusted.”

“Which is a strike against me, too.”

“True. That one sticks, you show-tune-loving freak of nature.” I give him a sideways grin and elbow his ribs.

He grants me a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“At least we can still hang out at stuff like this,” I say. “They can’t keep you from coming to a public sporting event.”

His sigh is too big, too deep to be good. “It still feels kind of sneaky. Don’t you think?” He frowns. “I want to be with you, but I don’t want to be dishonest about it.”

A twinge in my jaw agrees with him, but my heart does not. “We’re not hiding. We’re not sneaking. We’re in plain sight. There’s nothing wrong with you coming to a track meet.”

“I don’t evenliketrack. I didn’t come to a single meet when I was a student. But now, all of a sudden, I’m the team’s biggest fan?” He gestures toward the Kanton team. “I don’t think I evenknowany of these kids. I mean—”

“Kids?” My defenses rise. Jenna is one of only a handful of sophomores good enough to run varsity. Most of the athletes on the field are a year or two older than me, which makes them only a year or two younger than Noah.

“You know what I mean.” Noah sighs. “Faith, I’ve been praying about this. About us. Mac and Amanda MacIntosh are praying for us. They both think, and I agree, that it’s high time I meet your parents, whether they want to meet me or not.”

“But theywon’tmeet you. They won’t even consider it.”