I hate church. But I like Emily.
We’ve never talked, but I’m pretty sure she likes me back. I can tell by how she smiles at me when she sings.
You see, Emily’s in the choir. And choir girls are beautiful because they have beautiful voices. But she’s the most beautiful because of her curly hair.
She’s way older than I am though. She has braces and goes to Youth Group with older boys. I don’t like them very much.
I’m stuck in Sunday school with kids who pee their pants. And my teacher, Mrs. Winslow, is a bitch.
I learned that word from my dad. And I think Mrs. Winslow is a bitch because she told me I have to wait two more years until I can go to Youth Group.
I want to join the choir so I can be with Emily. But I can’t because my dad says singing is for girls and sissies. I think he’s a bitch, too.
Two years is a long time. She could change churches. Or become an atheist. Or, so help me God, marry one of those older boys.
What if I never get to talk to her?
I guess I'll just smile back.