Young Writers Society

When Papa came home from the meeting at the church a few weeks ago and told us were moving, Jackson said no.

He said he was staying in Reno; he was 18 - an adult - with a good job, and he loved being the drummer at the church. He didn't need to leave, he said. "I'm not the pastor; what's the point of me coming along for the ride?"

Papa had instantly crushed that idea. He said this was a family effort, it didn't matter that one person was the actual pastor - the whole family was involved in the ministry. "No one is staying behind."

Jackson's eyes had ignited into icy blue flames at that, but his temper did not explode in a hot and angry volcano as I thought it would. He saw the look on Papa's face, and he knew the line had been drawn. Jackson wasn't stupid. His jaw did harden and his fists did clench, but for once in his life, Jackson was silent.

When Papa put his foot down, Papa put it down.

"Maddie."

I blinked out of my daze, glancing away from the window across from me. Mama was frowning slightly. "Hand me that box." She waved her thin fingers vaguely toward the left, and I shoved it across the wood flooring. Hard.

Her left eyebrow lifted. "Did Hannah ever call back?"

"No." I resumed arranging silverware in its tray.

I could feel her watching me, maybe searching for the right words to say. Hannah Schwartz was my best friend - sometimes my only friend, I thought - and one reason why the thought of moving miles away planted an angry seed in my heart. I supposed she had good reasoning for not calling back after my phone call last night. I had told myself throughout the night she was probably sick of my complaining and griping by now. Hannah always had been the happier one of our duo, never a fan of my negativity.

"It's not like I can get any service in this stupid town, anyway," I muttered.

Mama opened her mouth to respond but a sharp rap sounded at the door.

I paused, fork in hand, eyes darting to the window. I hadn't seen anyone walk past, or any shadow slip by, and no one in our family was outside. My stomach flipped uneasily. I hated unexpected visitors.

Mama stood and cautiously walked to the door, tucking some dark wayward strands of hair behind her ears. She glanced around the room, at the half-opened boxes and scattered household items, and shook her head a moment before warily cracking the door open. "Hello?"

"Good morning." The responding voice was cool, almost distant, and sounded like that of an older woman. "I'm your neighbor, Mary, and I thought I would stop by and welcome you seeing as you're new to town."

I froze.

Mama opened the door wider, offering a smile. "Oh, that's very kind. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Shasta, and this is my oldest daughter, Maddie." She nodded in my direction, and the shadow on the doorstep moved closer to have a look.

I wasn't sure what I expected her to look like - this neighbor that had watched my movements last night. Maybe she was intimidating and stern, maybe a conservative hermit. Either way, I felt no surprise when I looked into her steel gray eyes, though my body remained stiff.

She looked to be in her mid-fifties, with a graying bob of hair, and creases of wrinkles around her neck and unmoving pale face. I noted her crisp button-up shirt, and pressed jeans. She was a tidy woman. She would not withstand nonsense.

"Hello," she said. Her eyes were sharp, watching me again.

"Hello," I said. I set down the fork I still clutched in my hand.

"I apologize for the mess," Mama began, but Mary shook her head. "Don't apologize."

"Would you - would you like to come in?" Mama appeared flustered.

It was almost as if Mary had been waiting for the invitation. "Yes, thank you."

She stepped in, hands folded before her, and took a seat on the sofa across from me.

Mama shut the door. "Excuse me a moment while I - get my husband." She shot me a sharp look before retreating down the hallway, and I caught the message to be polite and possibly converse. But what if I don't want to?

Mary was watching me again. A chill slid down my back. Was this the norm?

"You'll get used to it," she said, quietly.

I blinked at her, startled. "Get used to what?"

"This town, these people, living in the middle of nowhere." Let's not forget your constant watching. Her face was void of expression, her voice remained cool. "But be careful who you befriend."

I thought that was a strange warning, but I wouldn't let her see it. "I don't befriend people. They befriend me."

"I can see that," she said. Her gaze moved away from me, travelling around the room.

I didn't know whether to be offended or satisfied. I looked at my hands clutched in my lap instead.

Footsteps sounded, and Papa appeared with Mama trailing behind. He smiled pleasantly. "Hello!"

Mary inclined her head in recognition, but no smile crossed her face. "You're the pastor."

Papa hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Yes... yes, I will be." He tipped his head to one side, inquiringly. "Are you familiar with the church?"

Mary laughed. I glanced sharply at her. It was a dry and humourless laugh, but the flat and collected facade had cracked for just a moment. "I would never call that place a church."

We stared at her.

Papa's forehead creased. He looked unsure on what to say. "Did you... know the former pastor?"

She stood, hands still folded before her, and looked directly at Papa. "I wish you the best of luck at your job." With a nod to the three of us, she added "good day to all of you," and walked out, closing the door behind her.

Silence enveloped us briefly before Mama wrung her hands, turning to Papa. "What was that?! Did she only - what was the point of that?"

Papa shook his head, slowly. I could see the wheels in his mind working, analyzing the conversation. Mama remained agitated. "John, who is she?! What does she know about the church?"

I shut her out, rising to my feet and moving toward the window. If I craned my neck far to the left I could see her, walking carefully through the weeds around the side of our house. I watched her, feeling somehow justified for my action.

She knew something. She knew something about this church, and she was hiding it from us. Why? I watched her disappear around the corner. Why, Mary? What are you hiding?