Exodus Read Free

members tucked their plates into their elbows and clapped.
    “God is so good,” Aria heard Ms. Nancy say to Jenny’s mom.
                  “Yes, isn’t his favor a wonderful thing?” she replied with a bright smile.
                  But as Aria turned around she caught Phil Donagee grumbling, “And how are we expected to pay for the rest of the building?”
    He saw her watching him again and shut his mouth. He dug into a slice of cherry pie so aggressively that his fork stuck through the bottom of the plate.
    Aria heard her plate crack under the force of Jimmy’s swift kick. He ran off to raid the desert table with Tara’s little sister Lydia. But Aria’s eyes were still locked on Pastor Ted.
    Why did my dream take place in our new church? she wondered. She had not thought of that detail until this moment. But the tornado had ripped through the new church building, and there was something going on with the place. She could just smell it on Pastor Ted. What is wrong with the new building? she thought.
    He was watching her, too. His arms dropped to his sides, and he scowled.
    Aria glared back. Her skin crawled.
    Why did I never notice how fake his smile is? she thought.
    Then fear hit the pit of her stomach. What did Ms. Nancy tell him about my dream? She felt naked and looked away.
    Mr. Bob came up behind Pastor Ted and whispered something to him, causing him to finally look away and run his fingers through his hair. He nodded and smiled at the deck while Mr. Bob explained something, then followed him to where Aria’s dad was standing by the door to the family room.
    Aria noticed her dad’s forehead was creased with unusually deep lines. He leaned against the house, ignoring the breeze mussing his sandy hair and picking furiously at the brick behind his back. Mr. Bob and Pastor Ted stepped into the house, and he escorted them inside with an outstretched arm.
    An elder’s meeting during a picnic? Aria wondered. Her dad was the treasurer, but he should have been flipping burgers at the grill now, not talking money.
    I wonder if they really do have enough money, Aria thought before turning away to get more food.
    “Aria,” her mom called to her. “Your friends are going to play volleyball.”
    “Why didn’t we set up the net in the back yard?” Aria replied with a hint of a whine.
    “There aren’t as many people at the picnic this year, sweetie. We don’t need all the space in the front yard, so you kids get the run of it!”
    “Fine. Keep the back yard. All you talk about is money,” Aria grumbled. She made her way around the house to the front. “No wonder people don’t want to come to church anymore.”
    Aria dragged her feet through the grass on her way to the front yard, where the youth group boys were batting the volleyball over Tara’s head. Tara stretched her arm up as high as she could every time they threw the ball, screaming and laughing, but she couldn’t intercept it.
    The boys paid attention to Tara. Aria was starting to realize that Tara’s blonde hair put her in a different category than the rest of the girls. She tucked her short dark hair behind her ear and joined the game that was starting in the middle of the lawn where they had always placed circles of chairs for the picnic.
    Her mother had relaxed by the grill with Mr. Bob and Mrs. Stauffin and Phil Donagee in this spot the previous spring. They had laughed until their iced teas spilled, watching Aria’s father, grill tools still in one hand, drag little Bobby Sinchak out of the drink cooler by his ankles, still clutching one soda in each fist.
    Just a year ago. Was that possible? Those were noisier, happier times, when neighbors dropped in on a whim and helped fry piles of pork chops, when Aria fell asleep to the clinking of glasses and murmurs of happy conversation that carried over long past dinner into the Indiana night.
    It was before relations had started to turn cold between Aria’s parents and