Young Writers Society

A low buzzing sounded, and a vibration drummed on my thigh. Hannah. I grabbed my phone from the front pocket of my cardigan, and slipped out the doors without a glance toward anyone.

"Where have you been?!"

"Maddie!" Hannah squealed. "I've missed you so much! Oh my word, my phone was not letting me get a hold of you! Like, my mom said it's probably because you guys are so far up, and you can't get service or anything -"

"That is why," I said.

"- Right, but I've calling and calling, and yay, I finally got a hold of you!" She laughed brightly. "So, how's it going?"

I stopped walking.

How's it going?

I wondered if she could have a glimpse of this town, maybe she'd realize how ridiculous that question would sound. Irrelevant, actually.

I looked up at the sky. It was a cold, unwelcoming gray, watching my every move. I thought of Mary's eyes.

"Can you come get me?" I said.

She paused. "Um. Not legally. But I sure can try!" There was that bright laugh again. "Oh, come now, Maddie, it can't be that bad."

I kicked a clump of gravel, watched it bounce away. "I think we moved to an asylum that happens to be the whole town."

"Madison!" Hannah sounded appalled. "You can't just say that! That's so rude!"

"No," I said. "It's true."

She sighed. "And you've only been there for what? One day? I'd like to know how many people you've met in that time."

"Three," I stated. "The creepy neighbor, the phony church caretaker, and his lovely caretaker wife."

"Not an asylum. And also only three people. Quit being so pessimistic. There's probably somebody there you could actually get along with if you weren't so determined to hate everything and everyone in that town!"

I pulled at the end of my braid, wrapping it tightly around my fingers. "I don't really have a choice. There's nothing good here."

"God sent you guys there for a reason, whether you like it or not. You can always find something good in what He does."

Let's not forget that.

There was a bitter taste in my mouth, though that thought had not slipped out.

"Besides. You're in the mountains, where it's so beautiful and green." Her voice went dreamy. "I've always wanted to live in the mountains."

I looked up from the gravel, at the forest about me, and saw the rotting trunks, gnarled stumps, and chunks of mossy rock stabbing the earth. I saw the trees, massive and towering, piercing the gray clouds with jagged, pointed tips.

It was a barricade surrounding me. Watching me.

"No, you don't," I whispered.

----

Dinner was a cold vegetable stew.

I poked my spoon into a cubed potato, and curled my upper lip. Mama said the stove wasn't working properly, but I didn't think 'working' and 'stove' could even be put in the same sentence. The soup tasted like it was fresh from a three day residence in the fridge.

Jackson set down his plastic cup. "Who was the former pastor here?"

Seven pairs of eyes around the crude dining table stared at him.

"Why?" Kylie wanted to know.

"Jonathan Anderson," said Papa. He went back to his soup.

Jackson tapped his fingers against his chair and frowned. "But who was he?"

"Why?" Kylie repeated.

Ben gritted his teeth. "Would you shut up?"

"Would you shut up?" I muttered.

Mama set her cup down hard.

Kentucky sat back in his seat, and looked at Jackson curiously. "Why do you want to know?"

Jackson's mouth twisted. "I just found it interesting how Cheesy Smile down at the church talked about him like he was God manifest in the flesh, and little old neighbor lady pointedly ignores any talk about him."

I glanced sharply at him. Eavesdropper.

Kentucky's thick eyebrows went up.

Papa was shaking his head. "Those are two peoples opinions, son. You can't judge a person by how they're talked about."

Or rather not talked about in Mary's case.

"He was their pastor," added Mama. "They probably miss him, and maybe Mary simply... has something against the church."

Jackson flung his hands into the air. "But, why?"

Why not?

Papa ran one hand through his speckled hair, eyes closing briefly. "We don't need to concern ourselves with his mistakes or faults -"

Jackson's shoulders grew taut. "I didn't say his mistakes or his faults. I'm talking about his actions, and his character -"

Papa looked him dead in the eye, and stated with finality, "It's none of our business."

Jackson shoved his chair back and left. The door slammed shut behind him.

There was a silence.

Kylie looked confused, and Ben appeared lost, as if he didn't know how to behave when his older brother wasn't around. Kentucky's eyes were closed, tanned forehead creased. Thinking. He was always thinking.

I didn't want to be here anymore.

"May I be excused?" I said.

Mama was staring at the door, but Papa nodded at me.

I went to my room, and shut the door, but as soon as my feet landed on a fluffy purple blanket, I remembered.

It wasn't just my room.

It was funny almost, the contrast of both sides of the room. Whilst hers was cheery and bright with floral bedspread and sparkly stickers on her dresser, mine resembled that of a prison cell. Plain and bare. No stickers or florals or fuzzy blankets. Just a bed, a dresser, and a lone phone charger plugged in the wall. The only decoration I needed was the gray knit blanket folded atop my pillow.

What was the point in getting comfortable if I didn't want to be?

There were a stack of pictures on Kiley's dresser top from her old, now-broken Polaroid. Guess she hadn't found time to tape them to her wall as she'd hoped to do. The top picture on the stack appeared to be a family photo. I stepped over, and looked closer.

Yes, there we were; all seven of us squished together into a selfie we had told Kylie would never turn out right. Surprisingly, we had all manage to fit in, though the bottom half of Kylie's face was cut out and Kentucky was missing the top of his hair.

I picked it up.

In big black Sharpie letters slowly decreasing in size Kylie had written "4th of July Party". It had been a church event, I remembered, complete with a barbeque, volleyball in the gym, and sparklers in the parking lot.

I remembered I hated looking at this picture. Only because I had my face thrust forward in a laugh, eyes nearly crinkled shut and mouth opened in a howl, leaning into Kentucky's solid shoulder. He was smiling slightly, the corner of his mouth lifted amusedly.

I don't even know why I thought it was so funny. It wasn't. Kentucky had simply walked up while Jackson was flirting with girls - or girls were flirting with him; there was never an end to either - and dumped a drink cooler over his head, then calmly walked away.

I had laughed about it all day, and to this day I didn't understand why. Maybe it was the sight of Jackson standing there soaked in Kool-Aid, with blondes and brunettes gasping and giggling about him. Or it was because people were so shocked Kentucky would do such a thing, and stared at him as if he were from Mars for the remainder of the day. Or maybe it was the memory of Hannah skipping up to Kentucky and proclaiming, "I knew you always wanted some attention from the girls!"

Or it could have just been all of the above.

I had been so happy that day. It was evident, crinkled eyes and all. Even the frizzy brown hairs framing my face looked bouncy and cheery.

But it wasn't just me.

I saw the dimple in Mama's cheek, and the smile wrinkles around Papa's eyes. Jackson, albeit soaked, with black hair plastered to his forehead and rivulets of Kool-Aid running along his jawline, was laughing. He had made some joke about the incident, inspiring me to look like an idiot. A lively idiot, at least.

I sat down on the edge of my bed, and looked closer, noticing Kylie's grinning eyes and Ben's scrawny arm around Jackson's neck. He was straining to be tall enough to be seen, but that didn't stop him from laughing at his big brother.

We were happy.

We were one, big, happy family. Nothing like the tense and edgy family that were at the dining table a few minutes ago. Those people couldn't smile like this, or laugh like this. They had lost all potential to do so.

I curled into a ball on my bed, and found the gray knit blanket, pulling it over me. I clutched the picture in my hand, and stared at it some more. I couldn't look away from it, the brightness of it all, the love we seemed to have, Jackson's arm slung over Papa's shoulder, Kylie's head pressed close to Mama's neck, my body leaning into Kentucky's. Who were these people?

What happened to us?

The answer sprang to my mind almost as quickly as the question: Cedar Ravine.

That's what happened.

I couldn't look at the picture anymore. I let it drop to the floor, bringing my knees up to my chest, and burying my face in the scratchy yarn of the blanket. There was a faint pitter-patter on the roof. I heard a mild wind rustling the trees outside. I closed my eyes.

God, I don't want to be here.

I wondered if He was sick of me whining. Then, why haven't You done something to change that? I wondered if He even cared.

I opened my eyes and stared at the wall besides me. There were cracks in the worn wood. Dusty cracks. "Do you even hear me?" I whispered.

But there was no answer.