Sister Bernadette’s expression morphed. For a second it looked . . . concerned? Scared?
Deacon Jameson folded his arms over his chest. He stared at his shoes. And I couldn’t help but wonder if they were talking about something that had nothing to do with putting up crosses.
“Deacon Jameson, Sister Bernadette.” The voice that cut in was deep and firm. Immediately, both the nun and the deacon straightened their pose. A quick glance at Dima showed the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.
The man walking up to us looked like a priest, but now I wondered what anyone even was since I’d totally gotten the deacon wrong. This guy was old, with thin wire-rimmed glasses and thinning hair.
He smiled warmly at me. “You must be Father Moore’s niece, Alexis.”
“Yes, sir.”
Deacon Jameson cleared his throat. His eyes were trained on the ground. “Alexis, this is the Reverend Monsignor Kline.”
“It’s nice to meet you.” I held out my hand. A silence fell over the small group. I knew I’d made some sort of mistake. Was I not supposed to be that outgoing? But before I could lower my hand and stammer an apology, he clasped both his weathered hands around mine.
“Welcome,” he said. “We’re happy to have you be a part of our community.” Monsignor Kline looked over at Sister Bernadette. “Maybe you can take the time to show Alexis around and give her a run-through of the way we do things here so she can fit in before the school year starts.”
School year? What was he talking about? I was going to go to public school in the fall. “Oh, I’m not—”
“I’m happy to do that, Monsignor,” Sister Bernadette said, clasping her hand around my bicep, hard. It almost hurt.
Monsignor Kline’s smile never wavered. “Deacon Jameson? A word?”
Sister Bernadette yanked my arm, pulling me away from the group. I looked over my shoulder. Deacon Jameson walked with Monsignor Kline into the building, head hanging. He looked condemned. Left outside, Dima slumped against the wall.
“Did I do something wrong?” I asked Sister Bernadette.
“No.” She looked over her shoulder as well before hustling forward. “It’s probably better you don’t think about it.”
“The crosses—?”
She hesitated a moment too long. “Forget about this. Okay?”
“What was that with Deacon Jameson? Is he all right?”
“There’s nothing about him that you need to know,” she said almost harshly.
I withdrew. “He actually seemed sort of nice,” I lied.
“He is nice.” Beneath her breath, she added, “Too nice.”
“And Monsignor Kline?”
She stopped walking. I realized we had crossed the church grounds and were standing right in front of the rectory. “You won’t agree with his opinions. Any of them. I have to work. Bless you.” I couldn’t think quickly enough to reply in time. I’d need to shout for her to hear me.
Now I was more confused than when I first got here.
10 Aleks
I knew this day would be weird the minute I got up in the morning. In my girl clothes, in a bra and not a binder, I already felt like I didn’t belong in my skin. An imposter. At least my period was over so that was one less thing to be grouchy about.
When I looked out the front window and saw Dima sitting on the rectory steps again, my predictions for the day were confirmed. It was definitely going to be strange.
I walked to the door and opened it. Dima looked over his shoulder and smiled at me.
“Sup?” he asked, getting to his feet.
“Not much,” I said. “What are you doing here?”
“Thought we could hang out. I got bored.”
“What? Really?” I was so stunned, of course I said absolutely the wrong thing: “Don’t you have like church stuff to do?”
“I mean, I could . . .” Dima’s expression faltered for just a second. “Deacon Jameson says there’s always work to do . . .”
“I’d love to hang out,” I said quickly. “Sorry, you just—I was caught off-guard, that’s all.”
His shoulders dropped with visible relief, and maybe some guilt for ambushing me. “Cool. Wanna go for a walk around the cemetery?”
“Sounds charming.” We walked down the steps and out to the sidewalk. Dima launched into his trademark chatter, totally at ease, like we’d known each other forever.
“I think I pulled a muscle the other day practicing lacrosse,” he said, “otherwise I’d suggest going all the way to the swamp, past Deacon Jameson’s place. It’s a nice walk through the woods, but it’s kind of far. He gets to live all the way out there because it’s closer to his school.”
I remembered the test Deacon Jameson had mentioned. “So he’s in school?”
“Seminary,” he clarified.
“Oh, right. But I thought he was already a deacon?”
“Yeah, a transitional deacon. That means he’s going to become a priest.”
Well, that cleared things up. Sort of. “Do you think he’ll be a good one?” I asked.
“For sure. I mean, he’s only twenty-three—that’s super young for a deacon. Had to get special permission to get an early start. Reverend Monsignor Kline really vouched for him with the bishop.”
“He gets on with Kline?”
“Yeah, they’re pretty tight.”
“Really? It looked a little—well—tense.”
“You kidding? He totally went to bat for Deacon Jameson. Said he’s the type of priest for the next generation. That we need young people like him. And we do. He only became a deacon about two months ago, but the parishioners already love him.”
Huh. I must have been really off in my assessment of their dynamic. “You uh, you seem to have a lot of praise for him yourself.”
“I like him,” Dima said. “He’s funny. He’s like the Godby to my Swatson.”
I blinked. “Hold up. You like Synthetica?”
He stopped dead in his tracks. “You actually knew what I was talking about?”
“It’s my favorite anime. Ever.”
“Shut up!” Dima practically squealed. “Are you serious? I haven’t met a single person who’s seen it!”
“Super serious. I love it.”
“Me too!” His face lit up. “We should watch it sometime. I’ve got snacks covered.”
Lights flashed. Danger.
Or was it? He said he wanted to hang out before knowing I liked anime, let alone the same series he did. The anime was just a bonus. Dima seemed cool, fun, harmless.
But so had he.
“Maybe sometime,” I said, pretending not to notice the way his face fell with disappointment. I cleared my throat. “There’s just some stuff . . . fandom stuff. Trying to separate what I love from that, you know?”
“No, I don’t know. I’ve never done any fandom stuff,” he said.
“Never? Really?”
He shrugged and resumed walking. “I wouldn’t know where to start. I mean, even online, it seems like the hardcore fans know like everything about a series. Everything. I don’t want to say something and have a thousand people jump on me because I forgot a character’s birthday.”