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There’s no money to pay anyone other than my dad.
     
    “Nobody in our church gets paid.” He shakes his head.
     
    “ Nobody ?” This is crazy to me. My father has made a living being a pastor my whole life. I can’t imagine him doing all that work for free , no matter how much help he had . I think too about the youth leaders who get paid next to nothing but still get paid, how do they get people to do anything?
     
    “Nobody . We all work together, most of the time.” He grins. “No one has the job forever. It rotates around.”
     
    “Wow.” The whole idea of it is strange.
     
    “So, the bishop knows the people in his ward pretty well. H e’ll do an interview with them before he turns them over to church social services.”
     
    “Organized group, huh?”
     
    “It makes things easier.” He shifts his weight and stretches his legs out in front of him.
     
    “You two done out here?” Tracey walks out of the classroom.
     
    “Nope,” Michael says. “We need a few more.”
     
    Her eyes go from him to me and then back to him. She doesn’t seem disappointed or angry, just curious. She turns around and walks back into the room.
     
    “I don’t need to be a member of your church though, right?” Because that would be the end of this conversation.
     
    “No.” He shakes his head. “But if you’re even thinking you want to do it this way, you’ll want to understand us a little bit. You’re not going to want this baby to be raised somewhere you’re not comfortable with.”
     
    He brings up a good point. Why did I let him continue after he told me he was Mormon? The idea of my baby being raised by a Mormon family is almost as bad as the crazy couple in my dad’s Parrish , and I don’t know what to do with that.
     
    “Okay, I’m just going to say something that might not make a lot of sense.” Michael leans forward, intent.
     
    I barely breathe waiting for him to continue. He’s close enough for me to feel his warmth, his breath. Close .
     
    “You’re going to have to learn to trust the Spirit. Do you know what I mean?”
     
    I’m not sure. I don’t say anything, and he continues.
     
    “Try to release some of the tension that you have and listen to your heart. Do what feels good here. ” He puts his hand to his chest, and then briefly touches my chest just under the center of my collarbone .
     
    It feels like one of the most personal touches I’ve ever gotten in my life. Part of my brain wants to laugh at his seriousness, but I can’t. I just sit and nod because I feel it again, right where he’s touching me. He drops his hand.
     
    “Do you need a ride home?” He leans back and starts to stand up. His voice is different again— more casual, friendly.
     
    I look around at the empty hallways and the darkness that’s taking over outside.
     
    “That would actually be great.”
     
    He reac hes his hand down to help me up.
     
    When I stand I’m not ready to let go of his hand , but I do. I don’t want to be
the
weird touchy girl.
     
    “Tracy!” He raises his voice. “We’re ready to go now!”
     
    “You can tell her if you want to
. I
t might make things easier for you to explain.” I don’t want to make things awkward for him and everybody’ll know eventually anyway. There are only so many ways to hide a baby in your stomach.
     
    “You sure?” His brow pulls together in concern.
     
    “Yeah, whatever. It’s fine.” I nod. What’s one more person? It feels like any moment the whole world will know that I got myself knocked up before high school graduation. This is not who I wanted to be my senior year.
     
     
     
                 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    5
     
     
     
    “Where have you been?” Mom demand s as I come through the door.
     
    Daniel’s sitting on the living room floor doing his homework. Leave it to him to finally be doing the responsible thing when I’d forgotten to call.
     
    “At school.”