"About Tessa competing with you for Abortion Girl," he says, turning to look at me.

"Oh," I say, realizing my exhaling-the-annoyance moment must have been kind of obvious. But the truth is, I'd forgotten that part of the day already. I'm so caught up in being here, on this sleeping bag, with Ty.

"I guess I was," I say honestly. "But not because of Tessa. Just because I thought I might get it."

"You still might," says Ty.

"You think?" I ask, staring at him and wondering what he sees when he looks back at me.

"Yeah," he says.

"Why?" I ask.

"Because you're so pa.s.sionate," he says.

I look down and feel myself blus.h.i.+ng.

"I'm not really," I say.

"No, you are," says Ty. "About h.e.l.l House, about the church, about getting this role, about everything."

"You really think so?" I ask.

"Of course," says Ty, laughing at my hesitation.

"Other people think I'm quiet," I say. "They call me shy." Shy. It sounded like such a bad word when people said it about me when I was younger. "Oh, she's shy," like it meant I had a mental deficiency or something. But now that I'm in high school, shy is safe and respectable in people's eyes. I've become Lacey Byer, the good girl, who's always acted appropriately. And who's never had a movie moment.

"I see how much you want that role, Lacey," he says, and I look up at him then. "You've got a fire in you."

"I do?" I ask. I've always felt like there was something strong inside me, but no one's ever noticed it on the outside before.

"Yes," he says. "That's why I thought you might be angry at Tessa."

"No," I say. "She's a senior, and I can try out for Abortion Girl next year."

And as I say it, I think that's true. It's only fair for Tessa to have the part if she wants it.

"You're so good, Lacey," says Ty. "I don't know how you do it."

"It's the Christian in me," I say, shrugging my shoulders and smiling at him. "We're supposed to be good."

"Humph." Ty makes a grunting noise, like he doubts what I've said.

"What?" I ask.

"Nothing," he says, tossing the blade of gra.s.s he'd been rolling between his fingers.

I stay quiet, thinking that this is what my dad must have been talking about, that Ty has strayed away from the church somehow. I'm excited. I think I can bring him back. h.e.l.l House is the best tool we have for kids our age-it's interesting and fun and scary and controversial. Two years ago there was this kid Jack Suggs who everyone said was on drugs, but after he went through h.e.l.l House, he turned things around. He went into some rehab program and even got into college last year.

I'm about to say something to encourage Ty to go on, but then he says, "I don't know. It's just that I'm not sure what I believe anymore." And I give him time to talk, because I've learned this from my father. People need s.p.a.ce to say things that are serious, things that are hard.

"It's not that I don't believe in G.o.d," he continues, bending his legs and resting his elbows against his knees as he looks down at the ground between his feet. "It's just that I don't always agree with Him ... or at least with what I've been taught about Him."

"Mmm-hmm," I say encouragingly. I stare at the side of his legs, which are covered in golden hairs, and I wonder what they would feel like to touch.

"Like, do you really think that all people who commit sins are bad?" asks Ty, whipping his head up to face me. I look away from his legs and meet his eyes, but I don't even have a chance to respond before he goes on. "Because, I mean, sins are everywhere, Lacey. And if telling a white lie is as bad as feeling jealousy, which is as bad as l.u.s.ting after someone, which is as bad as abortion, which is as bad as murder, then I just don't know what to think."

That was a mouthful, and I'm still parsing out what Ty said when he stretches out on the sleeping bag and puts his hands behind his head. I look down at him and he looks so sweet and confused that I have an urge to reach out to him. But I don't. I just lie back beside him-carefully leaving a foot or so between us-and stare up at the sky.

We spend the next few hours talking about these things-the big questions of what sin means and what good Christians can do in the face of it. I even tell him about how my dad sometimes brings up his own failings and uses them as lessons for the children's group, like the time he talked about cheating on a test in high school. He went back later and confessed to his teacher, who let him take another version of the exam.

"That's like a pseudo sin," says Ty, laughing. "Seriously, that's the worst your father's ever done?"

"I guess so," I say. I've never thought about it that way. I've always thought of my dad as pretty much perfect.

Ty has three Power Bars in his car, so even when dinnertime comes and we get hungry we don't drive back into town. We stay out on the hill, like it's our new spot.

By the time the fireflies start glowing, Ty and I are listing our own mini sins. I tell him about how I lied to my parents at age ten, when Dean rented an R-rated movie we were dying to see, and he mentions his first peek at a triple-X site online, which makes me blush.

"Maybe I should have pushed you to try out for Cyberp.o.r.n Boy instead of Dean," I say.

"Lacey Anne, every guy at school could play p.o.r.no Boy with no problem," he says. And I want to object but maybe he's right.

"h.e.l.l House is an ideal," I say. "It's like a guideline. Of course some of the scenes are more serious than others. Like Abortion."

"What's the scene like anyway?" asks Ty.

I describe it to him the way my dad described it to me when I asked for more details after the h.e.l.l House meeting-the girl on the table, bleeding a lot, the doctor pulling a fake fetus out of her body (it's hidden under the sheet), and all the screaming.

Ty's eyes bug out when I'm done.

"What?" I ask.

"You know that's not what it's really like, right?" he asks.

"What what's really like?" I ask.

"An abortion," he says. "I mean, not like I know firsthand, but I'm pretty sure it's quick and clean and safe ninety-nine percent of the time." He raises an eyebrow. "And I'm positive that it doesn't involve major blood or anything really violent. Most women walk out the same day."

"How do you know so much about abortion?" I ask.

"I don't know," says Ty. "The Discovery Channel?"

"Well, it's more like we're dramatizing something for theatrical reasons," I say, though I guess I hadn't ever really thought about what an actual abortion might be like. I don't want to seem stupid to Ty.

"Anyway, Abortion is one of the more serious scenes, like Suicide and Domestic Abuse-those are the heavy ones."

"So you're admitting those are worse than Cyberp.o.r.n?" Ty asks.

"Yes," I say. "Those are worse."

Ty smiles at me in a self-satisfied way, like he won a point or something.

"But all are bad!" I say. "I mean, that doesn't give you free rein to go home and log onto Bigb.o.o.bsandb.u.t.ts.com tonight."

"How did you know about my favorite site?" Ty asks, standing in fake indignation and offering me a hand.

I let him pull me up and we both laugh. I can't believe I just used the words "b.o.o.b" and "b.u.t.t" in front of a guy, even if it was in a website name. But it feels okay, it feels easy.

"It's after eight o'clock," says Ty. "I should get home."

"Me too," I say quietly.

Ty looks at me and smiles. Then he puts his hand on my cheek.

"Thanks, Lacey Anne," he says, his face leaning closer. "I really feel like I can talk to you. I knew it would be that way."

He stares right at me and I can hardly breathe as I see the flecks of green in his blue eyes.

I'm about to lean into the kiss that I feel hovering between us. I want this to happen. I want to let go.

Then Ty lets his hand fall and says, "You're just too good for me."

After a silent ride home, in which I try to figure out all the ways in which I could have been kissed but wasn't, Ty drops me off on the curb with a wave. I hug myself and rub my bare arms, daydreaming about what might have happened, how perfect my first kiss could have been. How perfect it might be with Ty.

I stroll up the driveway and into the house about ten minutes before nine, which is my summer curfew (and a full two hours before Starla Joy's). Dean doesn't even have one. Usually Mom and Dad are in bed reading by now, but when I walk into the living room I hear Dad say, "Lacey, come sit down. We need to talk," while Mom s.h.i.+fts uncomfortably in her seat.

I sit in the big chair next to the sofa and fold my hands in my lap, the way Mom likes me to. "Is everything okay?" I ask.

Dad looks pensive; the lines in his forehead seem darker and deeper tonight.

I suddenly wonder if I'm in trouble. That's never happened before. I can't really be in trouble because I'm home on time and I told Mrs. Tuttle that I was with friends, and that's not a lie-I was-and I realize that my palms are starting to sweat. I'm almost glad that Ty didn't kiss me today, because maybe I'd look different after being kissed. But as it is, I haven't done anything wrong. Not that being kissed would be wrong, really, but maybe my parents would think- "You were out with Tyson-I mean Ty-Davis?" says Mom, interrupting my thoughts. And even though it's a statement, I hear a question mark at the end, like she's not sure. I also detect a nervous hum in her voice.

That's when I realize they're both truly upset.

"Yes," I say, smiling rea.s.suringly. "Ty is a really nice guy. Starla Joy and Dean and I all went to the movies with him last week, and today we went to Ulster Park and talked."

I figure bringing up my lifelong friends will be a plus and will a.s.sure them that I'm not going out with Ty in a romantic sense, and the way I said that could mean that all four of us went to the park today. But I didn't really lie. Not officially.

"Well," says Dad, scratching the side of his head vigorously, "that's certainly nice of you all, seeing as how he's new in town-"

Then Mom chimes in again. "It's just that, well, he's a little ..." She hesitates.

"A little what?" I ask, genuinely curious.

This hasn't happened before. My parents have never been uncomfortable about my friends.h.i.+ps. They're really open and loving, even with people like Geoff Parsons. And Ty is a part of the church community, after all.

"He's been away for a while," says Mom, looking at Dad and not me.

"Away?" I ask.

"What your mother means is that Ty has ...," starts Dad. "Well, we've heard from his aunt that he's had some ... experiences while he's been gone."

Huh?

"What do you mean, experiences?" I ask.

"Well, honey, it's-" Dad starts.

"It's nothing," interrupts Mom. Her left hand goes to one of her new earrings, twisting it around in her nervous way. "Never mind."

They are acting so weird. I'd press them, but I don't really want them to press me back and find out I was alone with Ty today, even if we were talking about G.o.d and Christianity. Because we also talked about p.o.r.n. I feel my face heat up just thinking about it.

"Okay," I say, wanting desperately to go upstairs to the pile of books by my bed. I'm in the middle of a really great one about a girl who can see other people's dreams. "So is it okay if I go to my room?"

"Yes," says Mom, and she heads into the kitchen for a final wipe down of the counters, even though she's probably already done that three times since dinner.

"So what did you guys grab to eat?" asks Dad, ruffling my hair as I stand up to head down the hallway. "Is Dean still on Weight Watchers?"

I laugh, and I almost tell my dad about the picnic spot, and Ty and the Power Bars, but I hesitate. I don't think he'd approve.

"No," I say. "We grabbed normal food at Wendy's."

My stomach clenches up when I lie, but I'm starting to think Dad won't understand why I was out with Ty-even though he told me to help Ty come back to G.o.d, which is what I was doing.

Dad smiles and leans in, out of Mom's earshot. "Sneak me home a Frosty next time," he says.

"I will, Dad," I say. "I promise."

Chapter Nine.

The next day, Starla Joy, Dean, and I sit a while in our spot in the woods and then we get snacks at Sulley's Drugstore counter, where they have french fries and fountain soda-the place hasn't changed since my parents used to come here. Later, we meet up with Tessa. She doesn't usually hang out with us, but today she says her friends are acting stupid and she wants to be with her little sister. Starla Joy plays it cool, but I can tell she's happy.

We used to spend a lot of time with Tessa-she's only seventeen, a year older than we are, after all. She always knew what music we should hear, how to get the perfect mermaid braids into my thin hair, and which makeup colors looked best with each of our skin tones. According to Tessa, I'm a winter, and Starla Joy is a fall. She told Dean he's a spring, and he even took her advice about trying a blue nail color once, but then he went back to his regular black.

In the past couple of years, though, Tessa's grown more distant. She's been dating Jeremy Jackson for the last year and a half, and the two of them together are like a country love song-small-town high school romance personified. He plays basketball and he even dunked in a game once; she's not a cheerleader because she's almost too cool for that, but she's friends with all the girls who are. Tessa and Jeremy even make eyes at each other in church, though I try not to be too obvious when I watch them. Today's reunion is nice.

Tessa's wearing a silk floral scarf tied around her neck, like you might see in a magazine. Starla Joy experiments with bright lipstick and I dream of turning heads one day, but Tessa? She's already there. She's in a whole different social sphere, mainly because she's insanely beautiful. She could be a J.Crew model.

The four of us just walk around town, doing nothing much. We consider going to the movies, but we've seen everything that's playing. So we get ice cream and line up on a bench on the main street in town. Tessa swings her legs underneath her and asks me how it feels to have my license.