“You guys drink?” I ask.
“We’re taking Communion,” Grace says. She closes her eyes and lifts the flask to her lips.
“Don’t you go to church, Sof?” Riley frowns at my reflection, her fingers still tangled in my hair.
“My mom doesn’t like church,” I say. “But my grandmother’s Catholic, so I know about Communion.”
Alexis giggles and holds out her flask to me, but Grace snatches it from her hand before I can reach for it.
“Wait,” she says. “Sofia can’t have any. Remember? You two wouldn’t even let me touch that flask until I was ‘baptized in the blood of the lamb.’”
She says the last part with a thick Mississippi drawl. Alexis throws a wadded-up ball of toilet paper at her. “I don’t sound like that,” she says.
“Grace is right. You can’t have Communion until you accept Jesus Christ as your personal Lord and Savior.” Riley’s voice is light, but there’s a chill in her eyes. She wrinkles her nose at me.
“Right, my grandmother told me that,” I say. Mom never let me get baptized, but I used to go to church with Grandmother all the time. When it was time to get Communion, the priest put his hand on my head and prayed for me instead of feeding me the host and wine.
When I look up again, Riley’s staring at my reflection in the mirror. “You know, we could do it now, if you want. Baptize you.”
I release a short laugh, positive she’s joking. But Riley’s face stays serious.
“You want to baptize me here?” I blurt out. “In the bathroom?”
“We have a sink,” Riley says, shrugging. “And, Alexis, you know what to say, right?” Before Alexis can answer, Riley turns on the faucet and plugs up one of the sinks. Water pours into the stained white porcelain.
“But don’t we need a priest for it to be real?” I ask.
Riley runs a finger along one of my curls. “It’ll be real to us,” she says. “Like becoming blood sisters. It’s how we’ll all know you’re in the group.”
I scratch at the skin along my cuticles and pretend to think this over. I had exactly one friend at my last school, and the coolest thing we ever did together was stay up late to watch reruns of Saved by the Bell.
“Let’s do it,” I say. Behind Riley, the sink fills. Water dribbles over the side and onto the tile floor. Grace leans past her and turns the faucet off.
“Careful,” she says, but Riley doesn’t seem to hear her. She grins at me, looking so giddy that I find myself smiling, too.
“Okay, cross your arms like this.” Riley raises her arms in an X over her chest, Alexis’s flask still gripped in one hand. I do the same. “Good,” she says. “Now crouch down so you’re over the sink. Alexis, you have to anoint her head with holy water.”
“That’s not holy water,” Grace says. Riley tips Alexis’s flask of wine over the water. A stream of red spills onto the surface, spreading like blood.
“The wine’s been blessed,” Riley says. “Same thing.”
I let out a nervous giggle as Alexis dips a finger into the water. A blond eyelash clings to her cheek, making a tiny golden half-moon against her skin.
“Sofia, I baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.” She touches her finger to my forehead, chest, and both shoulders.
“Amen,” Riley says. She places one hand at the base of my neck and the other over my crossed arms. I close my eyes and consider praying.
Before I can decide, Riley pushes my head into the sink.
The water hits my face like a slap. My eyes fly open, and on instinct I inhale, immediately flooding my lungs. I choke, releasing deep, hacking coughs that fill the water with bubbles and cloud my vision. I blink furiously, staring at the plugged-up drain at the bottom of the sink.
I try to lift my head, but Riley’s hand is like a weight. I press my fingers into the edges of the sink. The bubbles in front of me turn spotty as my vision goes black. My fingers slacken as I start to lose consciousness when, finally, Riley removes her hand. I whip my head out of the water and gasp and cough. My hair hangs in front of my eyes in sopping-wet clumps.
Someone mops the hair out of my face. I blink and Riley’s in front of me, her clear, pale eyes bright with excitement.
“Oh, Sof, are you okay? You did so well!”
“I think I survived,” I gasp. Bursts of light still dot my periphery, but Riley’s smile is sweet, genuine. She leans forward, kissing me on the cheek.
“Now you’re one of us,” she says. Her words spark something warm inside me. It flickers like a match. I’m one of them.
“Now you’re saved,” Riley says.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Boo!”
I jump at the sudden voice, sending the pen I’d been sketching with sailing to the ground. Grace leaps up from behind the wooden bench I’m sitting on and doubles over in a fit of giggles.
“You’re so easy to scare,” she teases.
“Maybe you’re just scary.” I pick up my pen from the ground and throw it at her. When it bounces off her shoulder, Grace raises her hands in surrender.
“Hey! I come in peace. Riley asked me to find you.”
“Oh, yeah?” Mom took Grandmother to a doctor’s appointment today, so I don’t have to race home right after school. All that’s waiting for me are last night’s leftovers. And Grace has a wicked glint in her eye. “What for?”
Grace straightens her leopard-print headband and perches on the bench next to me, staring at the basketball hoops in front of us. The outdoor basketball court is far less impressive than the football field. The concrete is all cracked and grungy, and there aren’t even nets hanging from the hoops. The only other kids around the court are clichéd loiterers, sneaking cigarettes and passing around a gallon jug of generic-brand iced tea.
“We’re headed to the house,” Grace says. “Want to come?” Her fingernails are painted an electric blue that looks neon against her dark skin.
“Whose house?” I ask.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist. You’ll see.” Grace winks. “And you’ll love it.”
I gather my pen and sketchbook and follow Grace away from school and through row after row of perfect suburban houses with Mississippi flags hanging from their porches. The extra-high platform sandals strapped to her already long, skinny legs make Grace move like a gazelle.
“This is what I love about small towns,” she says as we walk. “Look at how safe and boring this whole neighborhood is. Back in Chicago, my dad would’ve called the police if I didn’t come home right after school. But here?” Grace spreads her arms and spins in the street. “No one thinks we could get into trouble here. Can you taste the freedom, Sof?”
“Oh yeah,” I say. “It tastes like—”
“Red wine,” Grace interrupts. “And chocolate.”
I laugh, jogging to keep up with her long strides. “I lived in DC for a couple of months freshman year. My friends and I skipped class once—just one time—and my teacher thought we’d been abducted.” I decide not to mention that this was during my very brief Goth phase, and we skipped class to get fake IDs so we could see a band at a place called Club Trash. “The principal called the cops and everything.”
“Nice!” Grace says, laughing. “You move around a lot, then? Are your parents military?”
“Army.”
“Me, too,” Grace says. “My dad’s a combat engineer. We moved every two years of my life until he decided I needed an ‘authentic high school experience.’ Whatever that means.”
I kick a rock with my sneaker and watch it skitter over the dusty sidewalk.
“And you like it here? The whole safe-and-boring thing never gets old?”
“Not if you’re creative about it,” Grace says with another wicked smile. “Honestly, I didn’t expect to like it here. When we first moved, some racist assholes at school used to make fun of my hair. But then I started hanging with Riley, and she made it clear that anyone who messed with me would pay.” Grace shakes her head, like she still can’t believe it. “When someone talked shit at my old school, you just kept quiet and hoped it stopped, you know?”