Read Georgia Peaches and Other Forbidden Fruit for Free Online Page B

straight to the parking lot, I have to remember . . . I’m on a mission.
    She relaxes. “Right then, come on.”
    As we walk out of the sanctuary and into the huge parish hall and classroom building, numerous people stop and say hello. There’s also an ever-increasing stream of teenagers. When I see a familiar brick wall with buzzed blond hair, in a suit no less, I laugh. “Hey, there’s my friend.” I drag Three along until I reach B.T.B. “Hey, buddy. Surprise.” I wiggle my fingers in a sort of jazz hands move.
    He turns, showering us with the smile. “Jo . . . anna!”
    â€œThis is my stepmother, Elizabeth. Elizabeth, may I present Barnum Thomas Bailey.”
    She smiles. “Oh, I know Barnum.”
    â€œAnd I know Elizabeth.” B.T.B. looks at me in awe. “Elizabeth’s your mom? You are lucky.” He hugs Three. “I love Elizabeth. She was my favorite babysitter. I miss you, Elizabeth.”
    â€œBut you’re too grown-up now for babysitters, B.T.B.”
    He beams at my stepmom. “I am.”
    That knocks a little chink out of my armor. Damn.
    â€œAre you coming to youth group with me?” There are elephants on B.T.B’s tie.
    â€œYes, will you sit with me?” I ask him.
    He nods. “I usually sit with my sister, but she won’t mind. She’s nice, too. Like Elizabeth.”
    Three takes a few steps backward. “Looks like you’re in good hands. Meet you in the parking lot after Sunday school? I think we can avoid the after-church family dinner today.”
    I think about Tater. “Oh, I don’t know. If it’s what you usually do, I’ll be fine.”
    â€œAre you sure?”
    â€œI’m sure.”
    She smiles and waves, then heads back in the direction we came from.
    â€œWell, come on, best friend, what are we waiting for?” I say to B.T.B. He extends his elbow and I loop my arm through it.
    The teen youth group room is massive, with rows of folding chairs but also comfortable couches and overstuffed beanbags. There’s a table covered with chips and cookies and soft drinks. It’s fluorescent-light bright and the same shit storm of nerves I had the first day of school hits me again. I really am walking into a den of lions. I have mad respect for the faithful, but sometimes that faith involves cruelty to people like me. The real me, Jo. And if the pastor is any indication of the flavor of his followers, I’m in for it.
    B.T.B.’s intuition hones in. “It’s okay, Jo . . . anna. They are nice.”
    He leads me into the room on his arm and stops for a second, looking around. A few of the kids smile at me like I should be nominated for sainthood. They all seriously think I’m B.T.B.’s girlfriend.
    â€œThere she is,” he says and points across the room. “My sister, Mary Carlson.”
    As long as I live in the South, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to the whole two-name thing. But B.T.B. is excited to introduce me, so I gamely follow along, still linked to him like a paper chain.
    I’m completely shocked when he leads me, straight as I’m not, to the mussy-haired blonde from the other day. No wonder she was looking at me like I was a monkey. She thinks I’ve got a thing with her brother.
    She stands up, all smiles and blushes, same as her brother. “Jo . . . anna, right?” She says it the way B.T.B. does, and I notice he does this sort of duck-under-his-eyebrows look like he’s been caught telling a secret. “I’m Mary Carlson Bailey.”
    The other girl from the other day whirls into the room and plops into the chair on the other side of B.T.B’s sister. Then she sees me. “Oh, look, B.T.B brought his girlfriend to church.”
    Does she even realize how condescending she’s being?
    I decide to play along. If they want to make assumptions about me, let them.
    â€œHello,” I say, all shy