Corinne couldn’t sleep.
She lay in the sleeping bag, with her head on one of the Millers’ extra pillows. Was Corinne’s pillow in Brother Fiala’s garage? Had it made the cut? Were the rest of her clothes there? Her mom hadn’t grabbed them all, to bring to the Millers’. She hadn’t grabbed any of their books or toys or games. Maybe Brother Fiala had loaded that stuff up in the back of his truck. Probably he hadn’t.
If Corinne was quiet, she could hear her mom snoring and Noah breathing, and Shawn sleeping on the other side of the room. If she drilled a hole through the ceiling, she’d be in the kitchen, and if she kept going, where would she be? She couldn’t remember the layout of the bedrooms upstairs. She couldn’t get a fix on where Enoch was. Was he asleep?
The next day was Sunday. Their game was still spread out in the living room. Corinne liked that. Liked seeing it there all week long. Proof that Saturday nights happened. A promise that Saturday night would happen again. The Millers drove to church in their station wagon, and Corinne’s family got a ride with someone else.
Corinne sat in the very last row of the church. Enoch sat up front. But he hardly sat. He had to walk up and down the aisles, taking attendance. He didn’t look at Corinne, even when he was counting her. Up and down the aisle in his brown suit. And then onstage to do the Bible reading. In his low, musical voice. Like a song with only low notes. Corinne didn’t get up to go to the bathroom even once.
After services, she didn’t stand in the lobby with everyone else. With Enoch’s circle. She stood outside on the porch and pretended it was her job to watch the parking lot.