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at lunch, and then after lunch, I opened my locker and a bunch of sand poured out everywhere,” I said.
    “How’s that? You’ve got a lock,” Oliver replied.
    “Apparently a bad one,” I said. “Or a kid who works in the office is tipping someone off.”
    Oliver sighed. “Why don’t we just run away?”
    I chuckled. “You and me? We’d kill each other. And anyway, what’s got you wanting to pack a bag and leave town?”
    “Like I’d tell you,” he muttered.
    “Well, you already have in a sense. You alluded to it.”
    Oliver sighed again.
    “Okay. Quit sighing and just tell me,” I demanded.
    “I thought Kim wasn’t dating Daniel anymore,” he said softly.
    “Ohhh.” I shifted in my seat. “Well, if it’s a rumor you heard, then you know it’s not true. Rumors seldom are.”
    “They aren’t?”
    “Am I a whore?” I asked.
    “I don’t know. Are you?” Oliver asked, and grinned.
    I punched his arm. “You’re such a butthead.”
    He laughed and shook his head. “I really like her.”
    “I know you do. You’ve liked her for two very long years.”
    “Daniel’s such a tool,” Oliver muttered, balling his hands into fists.
    “Yes, he is.” I didn’t know Daniel at all, but I agreed with my brother because he was hurting. If he had said that Kim was a stupid bitch, I would have agreed with that, too.
    “When do you think you’ll be able to drive, Cay?” Oliver asked. “This bus thing sucks.”
    “I’m trying, Oliver. I really am. Can’t you tell how hard I’ve been working?”
    Oliver nodded. “What’s the deal with Mom and Dad?”
    “It’s called brutal punishment,” I replied.
    “Yeah, but wasn’t that what juvie was for?”
    “That was the state’s punishment. Not Mom and Dad’s,” I clarified.
    Oliver sighed. Again.
    “You’re never getting your car back.”
    I draped my arm over his shoulder. “Oh, sure I will,” I said airily. “Probably when I graduate.”
    He snorted. “You’re totally ruining my life.”

 

    I stood at the doors to the sanctuary holding a stack of programs. I wore a blue and white striped dress with ballet flats. My hair fell over my shoulder in a thick side braid, and my eyes sported no make-up except for a bit of mascara. I was going for an innocent look. I tried not to sweat on the programs, but my palms were clammy. This was the ultimate form of punishment—saying “hello” to every church member as they passed by me with suspicious or pitying looks. Now I understood why Dad gave me this job. He wanted to remind me that I was being judged, that our church had not forgiven me for my transgressions, and that I had a lot of work to do to reclaim that “good girl” status.
    “Good morning, Ms. Warren,” I said sweetly, extending a program.
    “Cadence,” she said, and snatched the paper from my hand.
    “Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Sunder.”
    “Nice to see you, Cadence,” Mrs. Sunder replied. It was kind but reserved.
    “Good morning, Mr. Connelly.”
    What?
    “Hi, Cadence,” Mr. Connelly replied.
    “You go to church?” I asked. I’d never seen him before.
    He smiled patiently and ignored my question. “This is my mother, Naomi.”
    “I’m the one who goes to church, dear,” she said. Her eyes twinkled, and I thought she was up to something.
    “Oh. Hi, Mrs. Connelly,” I replied.
    “I dragged Mark here today,” she said, nudging me. “Like church is so scary, right?”
    I forced a smile. Right now for me, it actually was.
    “And I have an ulterior motive,” she went on.
    “Mom . . .”
    Mrs. Connelly ignored her son. “This church is pretty large, huh?”
    I nodded.
    “And filled with beautiful women who love the Lord.”
    “Mom . . .”
    “I’m playing matchmaker,” she said, looking me up and down. She grabbed my arm and pulled me close. “Mark’s been in a dating slump for about—”
    “Mother!”
    Mrs. Connelly looked up at her son, her eyes suddenly soft and sad. “Honey, I don’t mean to be