Young Writers Society

"And here it should be. Just... around... the corner."

Papa turned the wheel sharply to the right, and the van bounced off the pot-holed dirt road into a gravel parking lot. The lot was empty with the exception of a few thin trees, and a dull blue pickup truck parked directly before a long, modest building.

Papa pulled up beside the truck, smiling faintly. "What do you think?"

It was exactly as I had imagined a church in Cedar Ravine to appear - like an old, country chapel. Some might say it was cute: the white clapboard siding; tall, open windows; and the double doors beaming a wide entrance, with a short little steeple poking into the gray sky above it; but I wouldn't go so far as to say that.

"I'll survive," I said. 

I noted the squat stone sign near the entrance, with "Cedar Ravine United Pentecostal Church" engraved upon it. At least they got something right here.

"We're about to double this congregation size, aren't we?" By the look on his face, it was plain to see Jackson expected no response.

In the passenger seat, Kentucky turned to Papa and honestly replied, "I still think it's the best sight this town has to offer."

"As it very well should be." Papa opened his door, and looked back at Jackson and me. His face was stern. "I'd suggest you two get used to it real quick - this place is about to be our second home."

I rolled my eyes when he turned away. The perks of being a pastor's kid.

Jackson snorted at me. "Liven up a little, Mads. At least we won't be stuck in that house."

"Please stop," I said, following him out of the van, and shoving the door shut with a bang. "Your positivity is so contagious, I actually feel happy about something."

He laughed.

As we walked up the few steps leading to the double doors, I nudged Kentucky. "Who's truck?" He glanced back, as if the object would somehow trigger his memory. "A couple in the church's, I believe. They caretake the building."

I felt a brief touch of surprise. I had supposed we, as the new pastor's family, would be doing all the work - it was what most pastor's family admitted - and based off Mary's reaction earlier that day, I had imagined the church people to be evil. Not good-hearted, well meaning saints as one would hope to think.

But maybe I had been wrong.

No.

I frowned. Cedar Ravine didn't hold anything good or well meaning. I refused to believe it could.

Papa held open a door as we walked inside, directing a pointed look at Jackson, then me. Be nice. Behave. Don't complain.

But what if I didn't want to be nice? Maybe if I was rude and hostile enough, Papa would send me back to Reno back to where I belonged. Bitter people destroyed churches - if they even attempted to become a part of one.

A dusty, woodsy scent pricked my senses, and I blinked a moment. The door had opened immediately into the sanctuary - a short, and narrow sanctuary. We stood in the back, four cedar pews on either side of the narrow aisle facing a pitiful pulpit at the front. There was no stage, but an upright, mahogany piano stared at us from one shadowy corner.The whole building reeked of simple lowliness. 

I drew in a long breath.

Everything in this town was overestimated, it appeared. When people said "small church" I generally did not think of a place that was half of the size of our house. 

Our current house, that is. The shed.

Jackson stood beside me, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, and smiled. It was not a pleasant smile. "Wow. Pews. I was almost expecting a dirt floor."

Kentucky's brow wrinkled, and he shook his head ever so slightly. Quit it, his eyes warned. Jackson ignored him.

Papa shouldered his way through our little cluster, glancing down a dark hallway on the left. "There are a few rooms down there -"

A creak sounded, and a shaft of light spilled out of an opening doorway. Two figures appeared. A man and a woman. 

They stared at us.

I stared at them.

Papa lifted one hand in greeting. "Ah, Ivan. Brenae."

"Hey!" The man came forward at that, a massive grin plastered on his face. He was younger, I could see, maybe mid-twenties, with spiky blond hair and a long, pasty face. I frowned. His whole appearance, from the purple plaid shirt to white sneakers, was largely out of place in the humble sanctuary. Even his smile, stretched wide and tight, was wrong.

Phony, I thought. That's what he was.

"John, right?"

Papa hesitated, then nodded. "Yes."

"And you!" He squinted his pale eyes for a second. "Kentucky! Yes, that's what it was! You were at the board meeting last week."

Kentucky only bobbed his head. I wondered how he had withstood that meeting, with this high-pitched, artificial fake, who was already beginning to plague my nerves.

Papa motioned towards me and Jackson. "These are two more of my kids: Jackson, and Maddie -"

"Oh, you didn't bring everyone?" Ivan gave us both a quick handshake. His hands were cold and clammy.

"Not here, though the two youngest did want to come." Papa chuckled a little. "You'll see them tomorrow, along with my wife."

"Wonderful," said Ivan. He did not sound as pleased as he'd probably hoped to sound. "Well, Brenae and I were just cleaning up around here."

Why did he sound as if he were trying to defend himself? 

He motioned behind him with one hand, where his wife took a step out of the shadows. "Getting ready for tomorrow, you know."

Papa said something, but Brenae had caught my attention. She skulked in in the background, watching us, eyes flitting from one person to the next. Her face was stiff, her thin lips set in a firm line, disapproving. She looked at my skirt, the braid dangling near my hips, my face. 

Her mouth tightened.

I looked at her slim jeans, chopped hair around her shoulders, and face, and I judged her right back. 

We were two hypocrites inside a sanctuary. The irony of it all almost made me laugh.