Read Dance For The Devil for Free Online Page B

they ended up catching a late ferry to Washington State, and the boat was packed. After searching in vain for a trio of seats, they gave up and sat apart. Not an auspicious beginning for a weekend of family togetherness.
    Usually the ferry ride was enjoyable, the beautiful scenery of the Gulf Islands keeping their attention, the three-hour ride broken by leisurely strolls on the deck, coffee in hand. A mini-cruise. But Friday, the weather turned truly ugly and it was too dark to see anything but the odd flickering of lights. Small children raced around, upsetting coffee cups and banging outstretched legs. Jake had hoped to sneak a bit more work in, but given the atmosphere, it was impossible.
    The long drive to Seattle dampened already low spirits, and the mood for the weekend seemed set. Jake tried his darndest to cheer the kids up, but even Skeeter, normally carefree, was in a foul mood. The reason for this became clear early the next morning, when Skeeter, flush with fever, vomited all over the hotel room carpet.
    “Oh, gross,” complained Amy. “I suppose we’ll have to smell that all day long.”
    “Amy, he didn’t do it on purpose.”
    It was no use trying to convince her. Amy seemed to feel that Skeeter had acquired the flu purposely to annoy her.
    Moving Skeeter was out of the question, as was leaving the boy alone. Jake, against his better judgement, bundled Amy into a taxi and sent his brooding daughte r to a nearby shopping mall, his credit card in her hand. She returned six-hours later with two bags full of the ugliest clothing Jake had ever set eyes on. He tried to look enthusiastic, but his true feelings must have shown because she promptly burst into tears and locked herself in the bathroom. Skeeter puked again, Amy announced she’d just got her period, and Jake, despite spending every available minute studying Pluto’s Playground, couldn’t locate the problem.
    When they returned home, Amy wasn’t speaking to anyone, Jake had a splitting headache, and Skeeter was too sick to do anything but stay in the backseat with his head stuffed into a paper bag, trying not to barf.
    **
    “My dad is a complete asshole,” Amy anno unced to Jason and his friends. “He says he loves me, but he is such a liar. His idea of love is to hand me his Visa card and ignore me.”
    “Mine too,” Alex said, a dark haired boy who would be good looking if not for the virulent crop of acne marking his face.
    “It’s my mother who’s the stupid one,” Elise stated.
    “At least you have a mother,” Amy complained. “Things were better when my Mom was around, but... well, she doesn’t care either. Nobody does. I could commit suicide and no one would give a shit.”
    “I would,” Jason said. “We all would.”
    The other kids nodded, and Amy looked at them gratefully.
    “Well...” Jason began, and they looked at him expectantly. He hesitated, then began slowly. “Sometimes I go to these meetings. They’re kind of weird, and sometimes they do strange things, but you feel pretty good afterwards.”
    “What kind of things?”
    “Well, church things, kind of, only more liberal. I mean, we pray and all that, but our philosophy is radically different. Positive and enlightening. You feel empowered afterwards instead of subjugated.”
    “Subjugated,” Amy echoed, sounding unsure.
    Jason spread his hands. “Traditional churches are very negative. The priest or minister peddles guilt: society is bad, the world is evil and your every thought and natural urge should be repressed. For example, sex. The most primal, natural instinct of all and we’re told it’s a sin. Isn’t that a joke? Sex is evil, yet everyone does it. Half the priests are doing it with their congregation, the other half are busy screwing little kids. Where the hell do they get off telling you sex is a sin? Pious assholes.”
    “I know what you mean,” said Alex. “The whole point of church is to make you feel guilty. Jesus hanging from the cross,