24
" After a few minutes, she speaks up again. “You’re next. Sing.”Anxiety grips Hallelujah’s chest, squeezing. “I don’t sing,” she says.“C’mon, it doesn’t matter if you’re bad. It’s not like this is a concert hall—”“She’s not bad.” Jonah’s back. “She has a great voice.”Rachel swings around to look from Jonah to Hallelujah. “Really? Now you have to—”“No." “But—”“I don’t sing,” Hallelujah repeats, turning away.Jonah joins them by the fire. The silence stretches out. Except it’s not really silent, not with the birds and wind and fire and how loud Hallelujah’s heart is beating. And then Jonah clears his throat. “You used to sing,” he says. “You were great.”Hallelujah ignores the compliment. She looks into the fire. She feels the last of the day’s happiness fading away, already a memory.“Why’d you quit?” Jonah asks. “Was it ’cause of Luke?”Hallelujah inhales deeply. She feels the familiar spark of anger in her gut. “Yes,” she says. “It was because of Luke. And you. And everyone else. So thanks for that.” Jonah’s face drops. She can see that she’s hit a nerve. Well, he hurt her first. The way he took Luke’s side, shutting her out. The loss of his friendship, when she needed a friend most. The loss of their voices harmonizing, when she needed music most. How she just hurt him can’t begin to compare to all of that. "
34
" When I left high school with my diploma, it felt like I was holding a key that would unlock the door to a better world. Every teacher I passed on my way down to the parking lot—the ones who suspended me for questioning them both earnestly and in jest, suspended me for using a contumacious hip-shake as my hallway gait, suspended me for me being me—the ones who would roll their eyes if my behavior was, on the whole, unpatriotic, unjustified, and immature—well, on the way down that long black declivity, their faces seemed so contorted as if lurking shadows had vice grips locked on their kidneys, wrenching it every time a teacher didn't want to remain upright and respectful. Yes, they didn’t want to me to succeed either! I pledge allegiance to the flag that united every authority in that indefensible school looked at me, even treated me, as if I was a terrorist, or at the very least, unpatriotic. But God—didn’t the red blood, white skin, and blue balls that flagged my physical existence suffice for me to have a little liberty and justice? "
― Brian Celio , Catapult Soul
37
" We reach the trailer and Shane digs through the pockets of the cargo pants slung over his arm until he finds the key. He pushes open the door and waits for me to pass through. Maybe later I’ll tell myself I should have thought long and hard about what I was going to do, that I should have counted to ten and waited until I regained my sanity before stepping over the threshold, evaluated the pros and cons like a thoughtful, rational adult. But I do no such thing. Shane’s eyes are on mine as I step out of my wet sneakers, drop my damp clothes in a ball on the porch, and walk inside. He follows right behind me, and even through my wet shirt I can feel the heat radiating off his bare chest. The man is a furnace. Every warning about playing with fire zings through my mind, but I dismiss them. I want this. I’m not playing games, and neither is Shane as he grips my shoulders and turns us so my back is to the door and he’s pressed up against me. He lowers his head so our eyes are inches apart and looks at me more closely and thoughtfully than anyone ever has. He’s checking to make sure I’m okay, that my expectations are in line with what today is about. And they are. Just once, we agreed. And that will be enough. "
