Free Sunday Billy Sunday by Mark Wheaton Page B

way, she didn’t say anything and tried not to be too obvious by overly covering up.
    “I’ve always been an early riser,” Maia continued, soaping her arms and legs. “In a perfect world, I’d go to bed around eight or nine every night and get up at three or four. Everybody’s still asleep, the neighborhood’s quiet. It’s fun to be up that early.”
    “Really?” Faith said, a little skeptical. “Don’t you get tired?”
    “Not particularly,” replied Maia. “And there’s always caffeine.”
    “True,” replied Faith, shampooing her hair.
    “Did you see that that one girl’s bunk was empty?” Maia asked.
    “What girl?”
    “The skinny one who was on the other side of the cabin. Pale, black hair, doe eyes. Really tiny.”
    Faith tried to think of who Maia might be describing, but came up blank.
    “Maybe she got reassigned to one of the other cabins,” Faith offered. “There are always extra bunks the first couple of days and people trade.”
    “But all her stuff was still there,” countered Maia. “Bet she spent the night with some boy.”
    “Could be,” acknowledged Faith casually, not wanting to sound un-worldly. “It’s pretty frowned on, though. They’ve sent people home before.”
    “That’s extreme.”
    “Well, if someone gets pregnant, can’t their parents can sue the church or something?”
    Maia scrunched her eyebrows. “I don’t think they can sue, but they might get pretty pissed and raise a stink about it.”
    “Still, it’s pretty bad,” Faith said, rapidly rinsing off soap as hurriedly as she’d applied it. When Maia eyed her haste with curiosity, Faith shrugged.
    “It’s really only the first day of camp, so I know whoever else we’re stuck with in the kitchen this morning’s going to be late,” Faith said, hoping that explained it. “So, I always try to get to the kitchen a little earlier.”
    “Ah, okay,” replied Maia.
    Faith turned off the water and grabbed for her towel, hastily drying off, but feeling as if Maia was watching her. Even though she was still quite wet, she reached for her panties to accelerate the dressing process, only to have them immediately slip through her fingers and fall onto the floor of stall, right on the wet drain. She looked up quickly towards Maia, expecting a guffaw or at least a sympathetic look, but Maia was busy shampooing her hair and apparently hadn’t seen. Faith shook the water off her underwear as best she could and, with a grimace, slipped them on, still soaking wet.
    “See you in the kitchen,” she said after throwing on the rest of her clothes and breezing past Maia’s stall, forcing a grin.
    Maia turned and nodded back, but not before she caught Faith’s gaze, which was staring at her naked body. Faith’s eyes met Maia’s, which were half-surprised, half-querulous, and immediately, Faith turned bright red.
    “See you in the kitchen,” was all she managed to say, unwittingly repeating herself.
    By the time Faith got to the kitchen, she was still trying to talk herself out of her embarrassment. So, she’d seen Maia naked, big deal. It would’ve been worse if Maia had been looking at her naked. She decided to forget all about it and focus on cooking breakfast. When Maia came in, well, she wouldn’t mention it and if Maia did, she’d make a joke and that would be the end of it.
    She hoped.
    Cindy had delivered the mess hall key to her the night before at dinner, figuring rightly that Faith would be the first one to the kitchen. As Faith unlocked the door and swung it wide, the familiar musty smell of years past wafted over her. With a happy tinge of memory, she walked in, leaving the door ajar for Maia and the others.
    The morning’s menu – laminated — was already lying out on the counter and Faith picked it up, scanning it quickly, though she knew without looking at the weathered page what would be called for as the same page had been in her fingertips many times before.
    The first recipe was for a