Corn, Cows, and the Apocalypse (Part 1) by Felicia Jedlicka Page A

now.”
                  “I never stopped talking to God.”  He said flatly.  “He just stopped answering.”  He winked at me, to let me know that he wasn’t intending to sound crazy.  “I should get you your water, so you can get out of here.”
                  “I’m not in a rush.”  I said handing him the flask from my back pocket I brought for him to bless.  “After that display I’m obligated to stay longer just to flaunt my independence.”
                  “August didn’t come here to get you to come home.  She came here to tell me, that I’m not good enough for you.”  He closed his eyes and blessed the flask.  When he opened his eyes he was looking directly at me.  “She’s right.”
                  I sat up further on the blanket.  I didn’t know how to react to this.  Until now I didn’t know I was friends with Priest, and now that I did, he was essentially telling me we couldn’t be friends.  “Priest…”  It was all I got out before he handed me the flask.
                  “I’m sorry Lenore.  I wish I could be more than selfish, but right now, all I have left in this world is arguing with my ex.”  With that Priest stalked off to do who knows what sin.  I didn’t follow. 
     

 
     
     
    - Fires Within-
                  It was hard for me to be mad at August.  It was hard for me to be mad at anyone I loved, because I hated conflict, but it was especially hard with August.  She was like my mother, sister, and best friend all rolled into one and I couldn’t bring myself to defy her or fight with her, even if I did think her opinion about Priest was wrong.
                  Technically she was right, Priest was not going to sober up just because I told him he should, but she was wrong that I was going to get hurt by him.  She thought that I had hopes that Priest would go back to the way he was.  I had no hope of that.  All I wanted was for him to stop wallowing in misery.  If he wanted to drink and smoke pot, then at least let it be for the pleasure of it, not the numbing of it. 
                  I managed to stay out of everyone’s way until the weekend was over.  We went to a few parties that ended the same way they always did.  I went home early on the four-wheeler to snooze, while everyone else hung around to schmooze.  As usual, the early night shift lacked any major glimmer grim, at least nothing I couldn’t simply drive around and away from.
                  When I got home early for what had to be the eighth week in a row, I made a decision.  I was going to sleep with Devin.  It shouldn’t have received the cresting excitement that I felt, but I wasn’t going to sleep with him for reasons of love or even lust.  I was sleeping with him because I was mad. 
                  I’m not quite sure how being mad meant that I should sleep with Devin, but in my head it made sense.  I was going to piss off Haden, but I didn’t care.  I was sick of spending the apocalypse like a prude while everyone else was living it up. 
                  Truthfully, I think what I really wanted to do was sleep with Priest to piss August off, but as I said before, it’s hard for me to be mad at August.  To outright go against her wasn’t going to work.  However, sleeping with someone she approved of, while pretending it was someone she didn’t approve of, might offer me the revenge I desired, without the repercussions.  Yes, that actually sounded logical in my head.    
                  Monday night was fairly boring, or it would have been had my decision to sleep with Devin not encouraged a good number of stupid follow up decisions. 
                  First, there was the liquid courage.  I certainly couldn’t just tell Devin I wanted to sleep with him, because I’m a coward, and that would be anticlimactic