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Grace Chasity’s heart was beating harder and faster than it ever had before. All the blood in her body was redirected to her chest, none of it remained in her head. If she walked too fast, or moved her head around, as she often did when she talked, she might fall from her chair at the breakfast table to the floor.
Sticking her spoon in her bowl of oatmeal, evenly sprinkled with blueberries, she took a deep breath. God’s love was unconditional, and, hopefully, her parents’ love was too. She had already prayed about this. She hadn’t broken her purity. Why was it harder than telling them she was a girl, all those years ago? This was also good. She just had to say it.
“I’m bisexual,” she said, interrupting her parents’ chatter. She didn’t know what they were talking about and she didn’t care. Maybe she would, if it were another day.
Her parents stopped their giggling and turned towards her, facing her from across the table. The countertop had doubled in size, distancing her from them. They were silent, which could have been a bad sign, but they were smiling. Smiling. She didn’t expect that.
“Oh, Gracie, don’t be silly!” Mom said, dismissing her in the same way she did when Grace brought up how everyone talked about the ghosts of Waylon Hall.
“That’s not a thing, dear,” Dad echoed, peering over his newspaper, a lilt of laughter in his voice. Like it was a joke. Like the thing she had been worrying about since All Saints’ Day meant nothing.
“What?” she asked. They were kidding. They had to be kidding. Maybe it just meant that they were taking it better than normal, that she didn’t have to go through all she had learnt about the clobber passages. “Yeah, it is. Half of my school friends are bisexual.”
Dad tilted his head, folding his paper back up. “You must just want to fit in with them!”
“Is this for a boy? Because I’ve told you, Gracie, you can’t be unevenly yoked,” Mom lectured. She didn’t expect to be told off about liking boys this morning. What was going on?
“No,” she said, leaving her mouth hanging open. At least she didn’t feel dizzy anymore, at least her heart had slowed. Instead, she felt sick, the helium in her stomach moments ago now replaced with solid steel. “Why don’t you believe me?”
Her parents shared a glance, about her, across the table. Like they were two cops interrogating a criminal who wouldn’t give up any information. Maybe it was the same; the cops in Hatchetfield were all godless sinners.
“Gracie, we love you,” Dad said, offering her his hand to hold and to comfort. Faith in her would have been much more effective.
Looking at her with pity, like she was 8 years old again, Mom lowered her head. “We just don’t want you to pretend you’re struggling with a sin you don’t have.”
Were they right? Could it be possible that she was lying to herself, to God?
Then she remembered the bathtub. Her lustful desires, her sinful loins, how frequently she stumbled. The way butterflies flapped their wings around Max Jägerman, the way her skin ignited when Alice Woodward touched her hand. As much as she wanted to believe her parents’ denial, the past few months told her otherwise. They had great wisdom about many things, but this was not one of them. About this, maybe this alone, she knew more than them.
“I’m not hungry. I have to go to school now. Love you.” Grace left without a kiss, for the first time in years, tears stinging her eyes. Why didn’t they believe her? Why couldn’t they trust her? She had prepared for her heart to break today, but not like this. Hopping on her pink Schwinn, pedalling as quickly as she could, the cogs in her mind began twirling at the same speed as her bicycle.
As she walked into the library, Grace saw a couple of heads sitting in the light wood laminate cubicles. The first one who drew her eyes was a girl with shiny, brunette hair. Stephanie Lauter. Perfect, at least as perfect as she could find.
She pulled a chair, the seat made of bumpy red plastic, and sat next to her. Avoiding whatever the other girl was watching on her computer, Grace whispered her opening line. “Hey, Steph, you know how you’re a w-h-o-r-e?”
“Good morning to you too, Grace,” Steph answered, pausing her video and removing an earbud. She turned to face her so effortlessly, arm casually hanging off the chair. “What’s up?”
“I just came out to my parents, but they think I’m trying to fit in. Which is ridiculous! Why would I want this, when I’ve been told it’s a sin my whole life? Why would I lie? I know that I’m called to be in the world and not of the world! Anyway, they can’t believe that I actually might like girls. Can you help me?” she asked. Again, her stomach was filled with helium, not as much as with her parents, but this time butterflies rummaged through her.
Steph furrowed her perfectly manicured eyebrows, staring at her. She opened and closed her mouth a couple times, for some reason, before saying, slowly, “What, do you want me to make you some fucking PowerPoint presentation? I think you should go to Ruth for that one.”
“No, don’t be silly,” she answered, shaking her head, shaking off Steph’s silly suggestion. “Can you pretend to date me so that my parents believe I’m bisexual and start trusting me again?”
“You know you don’t need to prove yourself, or anything, right?” she asked, tilting her head, pity in her eyes.
If she didn’t need to prove it, then why were her parents denying her? “Sure, Steph.”
“Fine. What do I get out of it?”
“The pleasure of helping a friend!”
“We’re not friends,” Steph answered. Grace giggled a little in response. It was always so fun when they joked like this!
“I can give you a Bible.”
“I don’t-” she paused, taking a deep breath. That wasn’t a great suggestion, surely Steph already had at least one copy. “I’m pretty sure there are online Bibles.”
Grace nodded. All that meant was that she was happy to help her, she just needed different payment. “Well, what do you want?”
“This makes me sound stupid, but I’m finding AP Bio really hard and it’s bringing down all my other grades. I know you took it last year. Maybe you could tutor me?” She had never seen Stephanie Lauter, of all people, looking so uncertain.
“That’s it?”
“I’m also flunking AP Government. ‘Cause I have no time to work on it. Because I have to worry about Bio.”
“So you just want me to tutor you?”
Steph began turning back to her computer, switching the tabs. “I can get someone else to do it, but it means I won’t help you with your-”
“No! No need! I’ll tutor you.” It wasn’t that fair of a payment. Grace always liked spending time with Steph. This arrangement felt more like Steph was doing her two favours, rather than it being an equal exchange.
“Great. Now, if we’re gonna fake date, we need to set some ground rules.” The school bell’s dull ring travelled into the library, sounding faint to their ears. “Meet me behind A Block after school. And, hey, if you wanna make googly eyes at me today, start setting things up, I won’t be mad.”
After school, Grace made a beeline for A Block. When her teachers weren’t talking in Calculus or Government, she allowed her gaze to drift to Steph. It wasn’t all that hard; the way she moved her head as she listened was so hypnotising.
Leaning against the graffitied grey wall, Steph blew a cloud of smoke out her mouth. It obscured her face, just for a moment, until it dissipated into the air. The edges of the paper cylinder in her hand were burning. What was she smoking? Was it a cigarette? Was it marijuana?
Whatever the wicked substance was, Steph used it to wave Grace over. They were the only two people there. No one else would know this was fake, all staged, all planned.
“Okay,” Steph began, launching right into it, “Ruth’s begged me to do this a hundred times - Pete said to trick me into falling in love with her, but who knows - which means I know my boundaries. I’m good with holding hands, flirting, kissing, whatever.”
“Kissing? Is there anything you’re not okay with?”
“Uh, don’t fuck me in the middle of the hall and we’re good, I guess. You can grab my ass or my boobs, if you have to, but ask first. I’m not always gonna be good with it.”
“That won’t be an issue,” Grace replied, the ends of her hair brushing her shoulder blades as she shook her head in disbelief.
Nodding, Steph prompted her to continue. “What about you? What’re your limits?”
“We’re not having sex,” Grace clarified. There was no way she was doing that outside of marriage, no matter what her fantasies had led her to dream about.
“I know, I said that.”
“I won’t be touching your… intimate areas.”
Steph exhaled, this time not altering the colour or visibility of the wind blowing against them. “Fine by me. Pet names?”
“Absolutely not!” She hated that idea. Her name was Grace, she had chosen it herself. Nothing else would be right for her to go by.
“Got it. Now, how long do you want this to go for?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I’m assuming we’re not getting fake married, and I’m planning to go anywhere other than Michigan for college.” Right. Of course. Grace didn’t try to think too much about how Steph wouldn’t be in her life forever, or even until she died.
“One month. That should be enough time to convince my parents that I like you, and at least girls in general.”
“Cool. I can do a month.”
Grace didn’t want to look too childish, or sound it, but all she could say was a simple, “Thanks.”
“Don’t sweat it. We also need to come up with a story. How do we get together?”
“Most people I know started dating through Bible study.” Her parents. Noah and Mary. The pastor and his wife. Heck, it was how Alice claimed she met Deb, though maybe that one wasn’t exactly true.
“Yeah, that wouldn’t work. How about… you had a crush on me for months, think I’m pretty and offer to carry my books?”
Grace’s jaw dropped, like it was magnetically drawn to the concrete ground. “Carry your books? We’re only 18!”
“Grace, I- Do you think carrying someone’s books is, like, code for some weird sex act? Because I guarantee, worse things happened in the first five minutes of the Homecoming party.”
As much as she didn’t want to admit it, carrying Steph’s books would be the most reasonable way to launch their fake relationship. She didn’t say it aloud, just bounced her head and changed the topic. “So, when do you want me to start tutoring you? I brought my notes today, so we can start now.”
“Ugh, not yet,” Steph answered, rolling her eyes.
“If you always say that, we’ll never end up doing it.” That was a piece of wisdom from her mother. Even though she was wrong about something, one thing, Grace liked to keep by it.
Slinging her backpack over her shoulder, Steph let out a sigh. “Fine. But if I don’t remember anything from being high, it’s on you.”
The next day was the first day of their plan. It was just as well that she had already begun paying Steph back beforehand; there was now no way for either of them to escape it. Grace didn’t know why her heart was pounding so loudly. It wasn’t a lie, just a performance. This was fair, logical.
Finding her locker in the hallway, number 717, Grace walked up to the girl in a red flannel, whose brown hair with amber highlights was tied up in a ponytail. She was talking to Brenda and Stacy, the cheerleaders who always linked their pinkies, but Grace wasn’t too worried that she wouldn’t listen to her. This was the plan. “Hi, Steph. Can I please carry your books for you?”
Steph turned around, a stack of books already in her hand. “Hey, Grace. Yeah, sounds good,” she said, tucking a loose strand behind her ear.
The books fell into her hands, two textbooks and a notebook. They anchored her to the ground, anchored Steph to her side. The two of them began walking down the hallway. As much as Grace tried to keep looking at Steph, pretending she was in love, she couldn’t help but feel the entire school’s eyes boring into her back.
“Do you think they’re damming me to Hell?” she whispered, hoping her words were obscured by the chatter of the hallway.
“Relax. I think they’re just surprised that the girl who tried to cancel Homecoming less than six months ago asked another girl to do what people think you think is first base,” Steph said, her hushed voice like a comforting blanket.
Grace didn’t know what first base meant to other people in relational terms, but she had reason to believe it wasn’t anything she wanted to do before marriage. It might’ve been something that happened at those parties. “Sure. Okay.”
“It’s weird to walk with nothing in my hands, actually. Can I put my arm around you?”
That would make it convincing, wouldn’t it? “Sounds good,” she answered.
Steph’s arm coiled around her shoulders, the gentle pressure warming and exciting her. She wanted to stay in Steph’s arms forever, as much as possible. Grace was so lucky to have a friend like her.
“This is so fucking boring,” Steph said, rubbing her eyes as she sat next to Grace at one of the school library desks. They had spent a week and a half pretending to date and studying together. After so much time together, she already couldn’t imagine a day without her.
“Come on! Only a half hour left and then we’re done for the day,” Grace cheered.
Steph wasn’t as enthusiastic. Instead, she groaned, twirling her pen around her fingers. “That’s when you're done with me. I still have that essay to write.”
“But it’s due tomorrow.” She had been behind with her work on it, more so than usual, but she had still finished about a week earlier.
“Yeah, I know.”
“Haven’t you started working on it?”
“I’ve tried. But every time I sit down at the computer or try to type up a draft my mind switches to static. Like there are bees all in my head and they’re flying me towards literally anything else. The only times I’ve been able to focus is when you’re with me,” she said, as dryly as possible for such a lovely sentence.
Grace hummed in thought. She was a helper; she wanted Steph to succeed, especially with how much Steph had helped her already. “How about this: we keep going for another half hour, then we go to Beanie’s and I’ll buy you a coffee. Then, we go to Hatchetfield Library and work through until my curfew.”
“You know, the library Wi-fi is pretty shit,” Steph commented.
“That’s a bit harsh!” Was it just that she wanted to get out of this? “What do you suggest?”
“Cut out the middleman, and we do it at your house. This whole thing is to convince your parents that you actually like girls, yeah? What better way to do that than show them us together? Besides, you’re helping me out a lot, so fair’s fair that I keep up my end of the deal.”
Having agreed with Steph’s plan, Grace took the two cups from the counter: one hot water, and one iced oat latte with hazelnut syrup. She wasn’t going to rebel so much that she drank caffeine, but she had decided not to force that onto Steph. For all she knew, Mr Lauter allowed her to.
She walked over to the table Steph had snatched up, delivering her coffee. Steph hardly acknowledged her presence, not changing the way she gazed at the green, cushioned chair across from her, even once Grace sat down in it.
Some people found silence comfortable. Grace wasn’t one of those people. She opened her mouth to start talking, but that was the time Steph decided to reveal what was swirling around her head. “Why are you so worried about your parents knowing about your sexuality? I mean, aren’t they homophobic?” Homophobic was a strong word. They were just intolerant of what they believed was sinful. That didn’t mean they would always dismiss her.
“It was hard for me to accept that this was God’s plan for me, and that His plan was good. I read a lot, I prayed even more, every day, for months. I tried to pray it away. My attraction to girls, my attraction to everyone, but I couldn’t. Sometimes it still feels like a sin, but it feels like a bigger sin when I hide it,” Grace answered. As she talked, she started looking at the whirring coffee machines, or the fake wooden floor. It was so personal, she didn’t really want to conceptualise that she was actually talking to someone else about it.
“So how did you know?” Steph replied, with hardly a beat for her to breathe.
“Steph!”
She shook her concerns away, drink now in her hand. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want-”
“As you know, I’ve masturbated to a fantasy of Max Jägerman coming in through my bedroom window and having sex with me.” She had called upon her friends, and Steph, to prank Max in the Waylon Place. It didn’t work, he didn’t wet himself or embarrass himself in any other way; he just started being nicer to her friends. At least he stopped flirting with her after she told him it wasn’t happening.
“Sure,” Steph answered through the straw in her coffee.
“But, around that same time, I also started having those thoughts about Alice Woodward. She’d break up with that sinner girlfriend of hers, meet me in the church’s basement, and rip off my clothes. Sometimes those two fantasies would even happen at the same time! And they were so terrible, but so good. It even got to the point where I wanted to initiate these… events on my own, but I knew I wasn’t meant to.” It had taken months of prayer and reading for her to unwrap all of these thoughts, what she was doing to herself, if she could do it without being lustful. She still wasn’t too sure what was allowed, but had started taking cold showers so her hands wouldn’t wander. The only real conclusion she had was that the “safety of marriage” didn’t have to be a man.
“Sounds fun.”
“Not really!” she exclaimed. “So, how did you know?”
Steph leaned back in her chair, like she owned the place, flicking through her memories. “Made out with Brenda at a party one time in freshman year, and I was exactly as turned on as I was when I made out with Jace, in exactly the same way.”
“That sounds so easy,” Grace said. As much as she loved her upbringing and, more than that, her God, she couldn’t describe it as easy, especially not when it came to this area of her life. But, for Steph, it was so effortless.
“Yeah. Yeah, it was,” Steph replied, a smile spreading across her boysenberry lips.
Hours later, they were hanging out at Grace’s, working on Steph’s essay. Despite the second part of their intentions, showing their relationship to Grace’s parents, they had a wedding which they had forgotten to mention to her. Maybe it was because she had been more distant lately. Grace found it difficult to be the perfect, happy daughter to a Mom and Dad who doubted things that were important to her.
The characteristic one-handed clacking of Steph’s keyboard was perfectly rhythmic, consistent in a comforting way. After Steph had managed to type up a full first draft, which Grace had given her advice on, she rested her head on the dinner table. Even though their relationship wasn’t really romantic, Grace wasn’t about to invite anyone she wasn’t related to, boy or girl or anyone else, into her room.
Steph’s typing pattern changed instantly, the sound jumping from ideas flowing out of her to slower edits. The second Grace recognised this, she started mumbling. Were her eyelids always so heavy? No, right?
As she struggled to open her eyes, she felt a light, gentle sensation on her forehead. Despite her sleepiness, her lips began to feel like glitter as her face started to warm. A tingle of butterflies began to fly low. Again.
Tonight, however, she was too tired to be scared of these sensations. She was lucky she had registered them. “Hi,” she said, lifting her face from her arms, which she had substituted for pillows.
“Hey,” Steph said. For some reason, her face was pink. Maybe they had turned the heater on and left it running too high. “Uh, I’m gonna head home. It’s all written. Thanks for letting me stick around.”
“Do you want me to proofread it for you?” Grace asked, trying to quickly return to an upright position. Hey, why was Steph’s laptop closed? Why was she putting it in her bag.
“No, I’m not worried about that. See you tomorrow?”
“Sounds good,” she replied. And, before she had the opportunity to walk her out the door, Steph was gone.
The next day came and went with no Steph. Grace assumed that she had gotten sick from how late she stayed over and submitted her essay online. That day was a Friday, so they weren’t going to see each other until Monday.
That Sunday, after she got home from church, Grace’s phone began buzzing. She walked into the upstairs hallways, so that she wouldn’t be in her room and on the phone at the same time. It was a string of texts. From Steph. At first, her heart leapt at the sight, until she read the words.
hey grace idk if i can do this anymore
i can still meet your parents then ill pretend to break up with you
so it doesnt seem like you were idk experimenting or smth
dont worry about tutoring me anymore
Grace started at the messages in disbelief. Did I do something? That Thursday night, when Steph had stayed over, when they talked at Beanie’s… Grace had started to fall for her. She was thankful for her switch to cold showers, because she didn’t even need fantasies to begin thinking lewd thoughts about her, only memories. Had she scared her off? Made her feelings too obvious when she didn’t even know there were feelings there?
no
not at all
its just me
sorry
She wanted to believe her.
I can still tutor you.
We had a deal.
are you upset with me
Why would she be? Where could Steph have possibly drawn that conclusion from?
No. I understand. You’ve already helped me so much.
Can you meet my parents tomorrow night, then? They won’t have Bible study, and I don’t want to make you keep doing this any longer than you have to.
She hoped that offer was fair. If there even was a fair with what she had done. What had she done? How had she ruined this friendship? How could she have done that to not only Steph, but herself?
sure
thanks grace
“Can I invite my girlfriend over for dinner tomorrow?” Grace called out to her parents. That word tasted like honey as she spoke it. Girlfriend. Girlfriend, meaning Steph. Even though it wasn’t real, even though they were just friends, she couldn’t help but wish that Steph could have dated her for real.
That Monday night, Steph was coming over for dinner. Even though Grace knew the other girl was acting far more than she was, she couldn’t avoid the bounce in her step as she walked down the stairs. Steph had driven herself over, rather than hanging out with Grace until it was night time. They hadn’t talked much at school, even though every time they stood by each other made Grace feel like she had wings.
When Grace opened the door, she couldn’t help but stare. Even though Steph was wearing a modest dress, the violet fabric reaching her knees and not even exposing her shoulders, not showing a hint of cleavage, Grace kept looking her up and down, taking all of her in. Her turquoise eyes sparkled like diamonds, looking like gentle waves crashing back to the shore.
Steph was such a good actress. If she didn’t know better, Grace would’ve thought she was in love with her, too.
“Hi, Steph,” she said, offering her hand to the girl on the other side of the threshold.
“Hey, Grace,” she responded, interlocking their fingers as she stepped through the door. As she pulled her through, taking so much relief from the sensation of Steph’s hand in hers, Grace heard her parents walk up behind her. “Mr and Mrs Chasity, it’s good to meet you. Thanks for having me here, I brought you this.” Steph handed Mom a box of chocolates.
“Stephanie Lauter,” she said, accepting the gift. “You’re the mayor’s daughter, aren’t you?”
“That’s right,” Steph said.
“Welcome,” Dad said, closing the door when Steph was close enough in, hiding his surprise well enough for their guest, but not for Grace.
Steph answered every question artistically, perfectly. She told Grace’s parents things that were written onto her heart, that Grace couldn’t forget if she tried. Heck. Grace was in love with her, in every way.
Once Steph left, she asked her parents a simple question. “How do you like my girlfriend?” Her words were without a hint of malice, or spite. Should she let her go?
Dad cleared his throat, sighing. He put a hand on her shoulder that made her twitch, for a reason she couldn’t quite understand. “She’s lovely, Gracie, but it’s a sin.”
All the rebuttals she had planned two weeks before flew out of her mind. “If it’s a sin to love Stephanie Lauter, then it’s the reason Jesus died on the cross,” Grace said. Once the words flowed out her mouth, she realised the full truth behind them. She loved Steph, not to prove a point, not to play a role. The idea of being away from her made her heart ache. Even that past weekend was agony. She needed her, in any way Steph would have her.
“Oh, Mark. Didn’t you see the way they looked at each other? They’re in love. It was the same way you looked at me on our wedding day. That Stephanie couldn’t stop staring at our precious girl,” Mom said.
Steph couldn’t stop staring at Grace? Steph looked at Grace with love? Love? Love they both held?
“I need to see her,” Grace said, not even thinking before she spoke.
“We just spent two hours with her, you’ll see her at school tomorrow,” Mom said.
“No. I need to see her now. Please.” She couldn’t explain the urgency, but hoped it came across.
Sitting in the passenger seat, Grace was giddy. Despite her father’s smooth driving ability, she had become lightheaded. After Mom had talked to him - possibly owning up to how she had been wrong, though Grace didn’t hear it - he settled, the dark cloud ruining his judgement gone. Right now, he was excited for his little girl. She didn’t care about what they both may have started thinking tomorrow, the conversations they would be expected to have.
He pulled into the Lauter’s driveway, a Pinebrook mansion towering over them. Grace jumped out of the car, wishing she had been able to buy flowers on the way. She pressed the sterling silver button, and waited.
Steph opened the door, now wearing a baggy cropped band t-shirt and sweatpants. Even that couldn’t disguise the beauty of her face or - despite how sinful the thought was - her body. “Grace? What are you doing here?”
“I love you, Steph,” she said, the butterflies in her tummy now fluttering throughout her body, so intensely that she thought she might fly.
“Grace, I told you. I don’t wanna pretend to date you anymore. Please, don’t make this harder than it has to be,” Steph said, beginning to inch the door closed. No. No, not this.
“This isn’t pretend!” Grace shouted. That, at least, took Steph’s hand off the door. “I love how you smile. I love how your eyes sparkle. I love how you twirl your pen between your fingers when you’re trying to focus, even when you’re typing. I love how you helped me and talked to me, even before you called me a friend. I love you. Even if I’m wrong and you want to stay friends, and do nothing more than that, that’s what I want. If you only want to kiss behind A Block, or in the Pasqualli’s parking lot, that's what I want. Anything. Everything.”
At her confession, Grace’s heart was pounding. This was a stronger feeling than she knew, and she had had many strong feelings in her life. She looked back up at Steph, whose mouth hung open in shock. “You love me?” she whispered, like she couldn’t believe it, even though she wanted to.
Grace couldn’t manage to say another word. Instead, she just nodded, hoping the darkness of the night obscured how red her face was.
Gasping, Steph pulled her into a hug. The fold of her arms was like home, the lemon perfume on her neck making the world even brighter than it once was. “I love you, too,” she said, into her ear.