Free Don't Kiss Him Good-Bye by Sandra Byrd

hears the gospel,” she nonanswered.
    “How can you not like him? You don’t even know him!”
    “Mother’s intuition, Savvy,” she said. “And the effect he has on you.”
    “What effect? You’re imagining things.” As soon as I said the words, I realized how uncharacteristic they were of me. And harsh. “Sorry,” I said. But I didn’t look at her.
    She pulled in front of the church and took my hand in hers. “Lord, I pray that You’ll be with Savvy tonight. Steady her hands and her voice, and help her to remember every note she’s so faithfully practiced. Bless her as she seeks to bless others in Your name. Amen.”
    “Thank you, Mom.” I got out of the car and opened the back door, taking my guitar and my WA Times notebook. I’d brought some homework and next week’s AFT questions to work on while I waited for the others to arrive for practice.
    I lugged it all into the back of the youth room, set down my guitar, and spread out my notebook and papers on a small desk near the back. I would work on the Asking for Trouble questions first—looking up the answers at church seemed like a good idea. Then homework. I started reading through the questions and then noticed that the donation boxes were already set up nearby.
    That first night, before Joe had asked me if I’d like to participate, I’d promised Supriya that I’d donate my funds to her, and I meant to keep that promise. But so it wouldn’t look funny, maybe I’d just put them in now, before anyone else came. I stood up and took my three bills—two ten-pound notes and a five-pound note—and slipped them into her box.
    Please help Be@titude some way too, Lord , I prayed. I actually did want to win, but I didn’t want to say that, even in my prayer. When I turned around, people were filtering into the room. I headed back to the desk, scooped up the papers, and set them with my open notebook in an untidy heap on the floor underneath my box.
    I grabbed my guitar and looked at the clock. It was almost time.

Chapter 27

    “So is everyone ready, then?” Joe gathered us all into a small room off the main youth area. I could smell the coffee brewing on the barista cart, but I didn’t dare have any caffeine before playing. Didn’t want my hands or my voice to shake.
    “I’m ready,” a kid named Jacob said. He could juggle up to seven balls at once and was going on first to get everyone pumped up.
    We prayed together and then filtered to the back of the room so we’d be able to enjoy watching the other performances while waiting to do our own thing. Juggling Jacob went first and, as promised, got everyone worked up and hooting and clapping. I watched him and clapped, but I had to admit that I had at least one eye on the door most of the time.
    “Who are you looking for?” Supriya asked.
    I shook my head and whispered, “I’ll tell you later.” Part of me hoped that Rhys would come because it’d be good for him to hear the message at the end and also to get a better picture of the Christians he liked to put down.
    Next up was a group of guys lip-synching. Then someone played a piano song to chill everyone out before a few slower acts came on.
    Just as Supriya was about to take the stage and recite in her beautiful, exotic-sounding Hindi, I glanced back at the door.
    “He’s here,” Supriya whispered.
    He was here all right. But it wasn’t the he I’d expected.
    It was Tommy. Oh no!
    I looked away so I wouldn’t have to catch his eye as he made his way through the crowd toward his friends. I tried really hard to listen to Supriya’s poem, I really did, but it was hard to focus. I asked the Lord to calm my shaking hands. And then it was my turn to go on stage.

Chapter 28

    Joe introduced me from the stage and asked me to tell a little bit about my charity.
    “I chose Be@titude.” My voice was shaky at first, but it smoothed out as I warmed up to the topic. “The shop is in Wexburg, where I—where some of us in this church—are