All through practice,

Seth snatches looks at me,

as if she’s wondering

what I’m doing here.

I want to yell,

“Virgins aren’t the only ones

who can sing!”

But who am I kidding?

I do feel weird being here,

singing about a God

I broke my promise to.

If everybody knew,

maybe they’d ask me to leave,

and maybe I would.

And maybe I should.

“Haven’t seen Sethany

around here much lately,”

says my mom.

“You two get in a fight?”

“No,” I say. “We’re both busy, is all.”

I study the wall

just right of her head,

hoping she doesn’t notice

how adept I’m getting

at avoiding eye contact,

wishing she wasn’t

so dang nosey.

“We broke up, by the way,”

I told Seth over lunch.

She quit munching her sandwich

long enough to look up

to see if I was okay.

I didn’t say anything,

just shrugged my shoulders

in a way that said Don’t ask.

Not now.

She took the cue,

smiled to let me know

she was relieved,

and finished eating

in silence.

I miss the old days

before I pulled away from church,

when I trusted Seth

with all my secrets,

even face-to-face.

Funny how my fears

weighed half as much back then,

as if telling my best friend

split them in two.

I used to say or do whatever

and never worry

that she’d judge me

or love me less.

If only we could be

that close again.

What if I took a chance

and let her in?