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few items her mom had packed for them. Worse than that, it had been years since she’d been beyond the fences of Sanctuary.
    At fourteen she’d been assigned to go outside and sell literature. She’d been awful at picking out potential seekers from the crowds. Even worse at asking people for money in exchange for the pamphlets that encouraged them to adopt Papa’s teachings. She’d been punished many times for not meeting her quota. The punishments had been worth being released from having to sell. She didn’t really like being on the outside, where women dressed so immodestly and everyone stared at her. There was temptation at every turn. She’d always much preferred staying in Sanctuary, taking care of the children or cleaning. Anything was better than standing on street corners or lingering in shopping malls, trying to entice people not only to take the pamphlets, but also to actually pay a dollar for them. Sunny had come home too many times with nothing but crumpled pamphlets that had been shoved back into her fists by people who laughed or sneered at her when she asked them to pay for what they’d taken out of pity, never real interest.
    Once, she’d tossed all the pamphlets in the garbage and lied, saying she’d given them all away but that nobody had paid. She’d been put in the silent room for that. John Second himself had come to stand over her, watching as she ate from a dog bowl. He’d been the one to explain to her how important it was that the world have the chance to learn about Papa’s message—but also how important it was that they pay for the privilege.
    “People cherish what they pay for, Sunshine,” John Second had told her. “It’s only a dollar to them and to us, but believe me, when they pay for something, they take better care of it. No matter how little it is. And where do you think we get the money to pay for the food you and your mother eat? You don’t want your mother to starve, do you? Tell me now that you understand how important it is for people to pay for the pamphlets, and that you’ll work harder next time, so we never have to have this conversation again.”
    Since John Second had never been required to canvas the streets or solicit, and since he’d never watched people with pity in their eyes give her a dollar or sometimes even more, then immediately toss the pamphlet in the trash without even glancing at it, Sunny thought he didn’t know what he was talking about.
    But still, she’d been the one hoping for a bucket so she didn’t wet herself, and he’d been the one handing it to her.
    John Second played at being kind, but even though his mouth smiled his eyes hardly ever did. When Papa had meted out punishments, it was always with a sad smile because he said disciplining his children hurt him as much as it did them, and that he did it out of love. So that they’d be prepared when the time came to leave their vessels and go through the gates. He didn’t want anyone left behind.
    Except that Papa himself would be left behind. Somehow, his children had failed him. They hadn’t meditated enough, hadn’t been good enough to the earth, had let temptation lead them astray. Had not listened hard enough with their hearts. Something, anyway, because instead of leaving his vessel voluntarily when the time came for all of them to leave, Papa had simply died, leaving his two true sons to hold the family together.
    Except they hadn’t. They’d fought. They’d broken it apart.
    There’d been loud voices, shouting, she remembered that. Some of the family had left to go with Josiah when John Second threw him out. She remembered that, too. How John Second had shouted, told them all they’d suffer when the time came to leave and they had to stay behind with all the blemished. There’d been days and days of lockdown, being forced to sit in the dark while she tried to keep her children from crying too loudly so they wouldn’t attract John Second’s attention.
    Of course her