Sue leaned in. Her lips brushed against Carrie’s. It was the softest, the lightest of touches, but it was enough to make Carrie freeze.
Sue. Kissing her.
No way. That wasn’t possible. Sue wouldn’t want to kiss someone like her. It was unnatural for a girl like Sue to kiss a girl like Carrie. Not when there were so many other girls at school, on the street, everywhere. Prettier girls. Normal girls.
“Carrie? I’m…I’m sorry. I…I thought…You know, we don’t have to…”
Carrie wanted to. But she knew better than to say it.
She knew, in her gut, that the minute she said it, it would all end. Sue would tell her everything, how she’d been pretending the whole time, how she’d make sure the whole school would know about how she wanted to kiss her. Then she’d laugh at her for thinking she could.
And, of course, she knew what her Momma would think.
She hoped she’d only call it a temptation. But both she and Momma knew it was worse. It was a desire. A desire to kiss, to touch a girl. Just like the Boys. Just like the wicked, lustful Boys.
Her own wretchedness left a bitter taste in her mouth, eclipsing the sweetness of Sue’s lips.
She ran. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her. She ran all the way back home.
She knocked on the door.
Momma opened it, red-faced. She was taking deep breaths, her nostrils flaring. “Where have you been?” Her voice was even, but there was an edge in it. The calm before the storm.
She walked into the house on shaky legs. Momma slammed the door.
“Momma…” It came out as a whimper.
How could she explain this? How could she make all of it fit into words?
“Momma, I’ve sinned.”
A strong arm was wrapped around her shoulders.
“Then tell the Lord.”
Momma started to walk. There was no question about where she was going. Where she was leading Carrie. There never had been.
The closet door creaked open, and Carrie was left staring directly at the crucifix that stood at the center of it all. Directly into Jesus’ rolling, dying eyes. Dying for her. For Sue.
She looked at her Momma. Her eyes were cold and hardened, without a trace of pity.
She lowered her head, and slowly stepped into the closet. The door behind her closed.
She got on her knees and looked up at Jesus.
It was the first time she’d gone in there of her own will. There had been no screaming, no crying, no dragging. Just leading.
For now, that would have to be her only comfort.