Kate Fox & The Three Kings Read Free Page B

envied their ability to take a time-out from life, just to gather a few indulgent moments of nicotine bliss.
    I briefly slowed my pace, transfixed on the sight beyond the old, massive pine to my left. Something flickered in my peripheral; something darker than the night. I halted to let Essie catch up. “Did you see that?” I half-whispered to her, pointing into the woods, where I spotted the shadow.
    “See wha—Oh, hey Gideon.”
    “Ladies,” a tall, slender man with a boyish semblance greeted us without a trace of enthusiasm. “I see y’all made it.” Gideon’s peach fuzz of a beard was thick along his jaw. Admittedly, I, beneath my seething hatred, found him conventionally attractive, but on this night, Gideon’s eyes gave away more than he would ever admit. Sleep had obviously not been a priority as of late. His piercing stare settled on my face, and I squirmed under his acknowledgement and casted a sideways glance at Essie, wishing I could communicate without words or obvious facial expressions. Who invited him ?
    Essie shrugged back at me, and without missing a beat, flashed a toothy grin toward Gideon, “Y’all bring any beer?”
    Gideon nodded, and resentment stirred inside me as Essie and I followed him into the clearing. Absentmindedly, I traced the fresh burns on my wrists with my fingertips, recalling the unfortunate happenings of the past few weeks. I had been avoiding Gideon, Essie’s younger brother, for almost a month. Being the pastor’s son, Gideon’s father held him as a moral exemplar of the W.H.O.R.E. congregation. Essie never endured the same amount of responsibility, because she was, well, a girl. Women weren’t seen as equals by W.H.O.R.E., only as objects to their husbands and servants to their families.
    When I arrived in Brushy Fork, Gideon and Essie were the only kids who would speak to me, even though I was instructed to keep our friendship a secret. Typical Brushy Fork behavior involved parents forbidding their offspring from socializing with outsiders. Parents feared that their kids might discover a whole other world outside of the same three hymns, sermons about self-loathing, and random fasting at any given opportunity.
    I relayed the details of my life before Brushy Fork, being raised by my grandparents in Georgia. The siblings were thirsty for a sip of life beyond the dank tap water of rural, Bible-belt Kentucky. We devised plans of escape, but Gideon continually chickened out at the last minute. Though, I never blamed him. I understood the religious mindset in which he was raised. I lived it. Around here, disobedience automatically meant banishment of our souls to the fiery pits of Hell.
    Two weeks ago, I considered Gideon my friend. Until he told me he loved me — that’s when everything changed.
    Charms class served as the most dreaded fifty minutes of my school day, and unfortunately, was a required course for senior girls. Our previous lectures surrounded the key idea that women should be attractive to the opposite sex, whilst remaining virginal and conservative.
    January’s classes centered on appearance. Mrs. Miller, our squirrely teacher, recited the best techniques on personal grooming; she peered over her huge, rimmed spectacles while she read aloud from the handwritten textbook. She instructed us to pair up and run hairbrushes through each other’s hair. Before the bell rang, a constructive critique our partner’s appearance was to be presented in front of the class. No one ever wanted to be my partner. I convinced myself that my classmates’ parents encouraged their children to actively avoid me. My assigned partner was Candace Cross, whom I had never spoken to prior to this encounter. Candace was mousy and slight but seemed kind enough. She wasn’t initially rude to me like most were.
    “I sit in front of the mirror every night, tryin’ to untangle this mess,” Candace motioned to her wavy, chocolate and honey streaked hair, which, from where I sat,