instead.
Christa reached into the pile, too. Her fingers slipped under the tangles of thread until her hand was touching mine.
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling too obviously. It didn’t work.
“You guys.” Lori laughed. “You are way too cute together.”
“Lori! Shhh!” I tried to put my hand over her mouth, but she pulled away, laughing.
I gave Christa a sheepish grin. She snickered.
“I’m not a fan of the word cute,” Christa said. “Little kids are cute. I prefer to associate myself with more mature words. Let’s say charming.”
“Sweet,” I suggested.
“Adorable.”
“Delightful.”
“Quixotic.”
“Quixotic?” I tilted my head down at her. “I don’t think that means the same thing as cute.”
“To be honest, I’m not sure exactly what it means, but it’s a cool word anyway. You and me, we’re the quixotic-est.”
My chest got warm when she said that. Before I could think of a witty rejoinder, I saw a new figure coming toward us. Jake, with a paper and pen in his hand.
“Hey, you guys.” He squatted down on the ground across from us. He looked nervous. “I came to see if you wanted to sign my petition.”
“A petition? What’s it about?” I craned my neck, but he was holding the paper too far back for us to see. I’d signed online petitions before, but I didn’t remember ever seeing an actual physical petition.
“It’s for one of the planks they’re voting on at the national conference,” Jake said. “I’m trying to get a core mass of youth to sign on before I present it to the delegates.”
“‘A core mass of youth’?” I eyed Jake warily. I couldn’t imagine getting worked up over anything that included the words plank or delegates or national conference. Social Studies class was my daydreaming time.
“Which plank is it?” Lori asked. Jake handed her the paper, and Christa and I leaned in to look.
Lori read it out loud. “Resolved: To recognize and perform marriages between same-gender couples.” She looked up at Jake. “This is about gay marriage?”
“Yeah.” Jake’s head bobbed eagerly, but his hand trembled where he held the pen. “Holy Life is finally putting together an official, national policy on whether to perform wedding ceremonies for LGBTQIA people.”
Lori counted the letters off on her fingers. “Lesbian, gay, bi, trans, queer—wait, is it queer or is it something else?”
“It’s queer or questioning.” Jake turned pink. “And intersex and asexual.”
“I’ll definitely sign that.” Lori grabbed the pen and scribbled her name. “It’s dumb that they’re even having to vote on this.”
Jake looked like he wanted to kiss Lori. “Thank you. Wow, thank you so much.”
“Who else has signed it so far?” I asked.
“Well.” Jake pointed down at the paper. There was only one name at the top of the list. “Just me, actually.”
“Are we the first people you’ve asked to sign?” Lori frowned.
“Uh.” Jake rubbed the back of his neck. “I asked some people from my church, but they weren’t up for it.”
“What, like that guy Brian from last night?” I shook my head. “Don’t worry about him. He’s a tool.”
“I would never have asked Brian.” Jake shook his head. “I asked Hannah, and Olivia, and Emma. None of them wanted to put their name down.”
“What? None of them? That’s so dumb.” Lori waved a dismissive hand in the air. “Don’t let them get to you. We’ll all sign it.”
“Uh.” Christa drew back, hooking her thumbs into her glittered belt. “I’m really sorry, but I can’t. If my parents found out, I’d be in huge trouble.”
Lori stared at Christa, openmouthed. I did, too, at first. Then it occurred to me that maybe I should be careful myself. I didn’t want to deal with my parents on this, either.
“Whatever,” Lori said. “Everyone from our church will totally sign. Right, Aki?”
“Uh. I don’t know.”
I studied the petition in Lori’s hand. I didn’t exactly keep up with church politics, but even before I figured out I liked girls, I knew it was stupid for there to be rules about who could get married and who couldn’t.
“I don’t know if everyone will sign it,” I said, reaching for the pen. “But I will.”
Jake grinned. “You rock, Aki.”
“Why does she rock?” Lori asked as I signed my name. “What about me?”
“You both rock, but it especially rocks for her to sign it ’cause her dad’s a minister. And a conference delegate.”
“So?” I handed the petition back to Jake. I was getting nervous now. Who did he plan on showing this to?
“It’s cool, that’s all.” Jake tucked the petition back into his bag. “You sure you can’t sign, Christa?”
“I’m sure.” Christa climbed to her feet. Some of the glitter from her belt had fallen onto our blanket. It shimmered. “I’m going to see if they need help outside. See you guys later.”
She left, and Jake followed her, waving thanks to Lori and me. As soon as they were out of earshot, Lori turned to me, her voice lowered to a whisper that was approaching a hiss.
“Why won’t she sign the dang petition?” Lori looked incredulous. “You have to support gay marriage if you’re a gay person, right?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s complicated. She doesn’t want her parents to know.”
“So what? Your parents don’t know you’re gay, but you signed it.”
“I’m not gay,” I whispered back. “I think maybe I’m bi, that’s all.”
“‘Maybe’?” Lori whispered. “What, now that you’ve finally actually done something with a girl, it’s ‘maybe’?”
“No. I don’t know.” I sighed. “That’s complicated, too.”
“I don’t see what’s complicated. She’s gay. She should sign a stupid gay rights petition.”
“She’s not gay. She’s bi.”
“You
