shadow loomed over us. I looked up slowly, worried one of the chaperones had caught us cursing.
Nope. It was Christa.
I beamed up at her.
“Hiiii.” I could hear the breathiness in my voice but I was helpless to make it go away. Next to me, Lori chortled.
“Hiiii,” Lori whispered so only I could hear.
I bumped her shoulder again. “Shut up.”
“No, Paul’s not a badass.” Lori giggled. “We were just talking about how last night—”
“Shut up.” I bumped her shoulder harder this time, but Christa didn’t seem fazed.
“So, uh.” Christa twirled a lock of hair around her finger. I still couldn’t get over how cute she was. “What’s with all the thread and whatnot?”
Lori told her about the jewelry project while I kept smiling dorkily.
“We’re sorting this stuff now,” Lori said when she was done explaining. “You can help if you want.”
“Sure, totally.” Christa dropped down next to us on the blanket. Her jeans were caked with dirt. She must’ve been working on the fence. I was trying to stay away from both dirt and paint since I’d had to borrow clothes from Lori again. But that meant I couldn’t do any actual work, so I’d been alternating between setting up for the jewelry class and walking around acting as if I had somewhere to be.
Christa pulled some thread out of the pile and tried to straighten it out. I watched her hands move, her fingers running delicately over the strands. Her palm had a blue and purple design on it today. A sun and moon drawn in marker. It was cool that she did that sort of thing. She had a true artist’s spirit. Not like me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d created something new.
I reached out and stroked her finger with mine. Then I got nervous—what if she thought that was weird?—and pulled away. I dipped my hand back into the pile to get more lanyard thread 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
