Page 18 of A Surefire Love
“I mind.” Blaze’s phone dinged, but she wasn’t about to give her sister an escape by pausing the conversation to check it. “Next time I come check, his litter box and thiscarpet had better be clean, or I’ll give you other chores to do too.”
Mercy set the bunny free and stood, but instead of moving to obey, she scowled. “You don’t clean our bathroom every day.”
“You are as capable of cleaning the bathroom as I am, but BunBun cannot change his litter box. And our bathroom doesn’t double as your dining table.”
Mercy’s mouth scrunched. They’d both been surprised to learn bunnies ate mostly hay—and troubled that their preferred place to do so was in their litter boxes.
Blaze’s phone sounded again. Trusting she’d made her point, she stepped away and slipped the device from her pocket. “When you’re done cleaning, come show me your homework.”
The afterthought went unanswered, and Blaze let it go. For now.
She unlocked her phone.
Anson had texted her and Nolan.Thanks for the ideas today. Glad to have you on the team.
Interesting. She hadn’t expected him to play cheerleader.
The other message came from Nolan. After the names of four worship songs to brush up on for Rooted, he’d added,This is gonna be awesome!
Blaze snorted. She and Nolan had been in the same class at Many Oaks High, a year behind Anson. They hadn’t interacted much, but apparently that hadn’t been because of any judgment on Nolan’s side. Or if it had been, he’d outgrown it.
I’ll be ready.She added a thumbs up for good measure and sent the message before heading to the kitchen to heat dinner.
The texts and Rooted commitments on her calendarmade her feel a little less like an outsider. She should’ve volunteered to serve years ago. Instead, she’d assumed no one at church would trust the girl who’d once burned down a building. Assumed her own childhood difficulties with friendships would follow her into adulthood.
If there was hope for her yet, there was also hope for Mercy’s friendships, but her little sister wouldn’t be encouraged to hear that improvements might take another fifteen years. Anyway, Anson had dragged his feet before letting Blaze lead. This might be tenuous cooperation, not full-fledged acceptance. One mistake and Mercy might not be the only one in need of a pep talk.
8
Blaze caught a glimpse of her sister in the rearview mirror. “I’m sorry Amelia didn’t come around, but we’re going to have fun tonight.”
“None of my friends are coming.” With her head turned toward her window, only a thick shock of dark hair and the rim of her glasses were visible.
“If it makes you feel any better, I won’t know many people either.”
“Yeah, but you’re a grown-up.”
“I still feel more comfortable when I have friends, especially when I start something new.” She’d come to Christ as an adult, and something told her that youth group would be different than the Bible studies she’d attended. Considering her inexperience, it was no wonder Anson had hesitated to let her join the team.
“Can I bring my book in?” Mercy had never cared much for reading, but she was ahead of the assigned chapters inA Wrinkle in Time. “Ms. Johanssen says books can keep uscompany when we’re bored or alone. She says reading is really good for us.”
“I’m sure it is, but you won’t be bored tonight. Or alone.” Chuckling, Blaze turned into the church parking lot. “You know what we’re supposed to do during hard times?”
“Pray.” Mercy’s voice held a store of skepticism.
Blaze didn’t bother trying to coax more enthusiasm as she watched for kids and a parking spot. “Lord, I pray you’d connect us with the right people so we can all show each other a little glimpse of your love.” She navigated into a spot and parked. “Thank you for the gift of community. Amen.”
The church glowed in the late-day sun. Children ran for the main doors, adults trailing behind. Beside the building, Anson was hanging a volleyball net. A circle of chairs and a snack table waited nearby.
Blaze grabbed her purse and a bag filled with snacks. “If nothing else, we have the best peanut butter cookies this side of the Mississippi. We’re bound to make friends.”
Mercy slinked from the backseat.
Blaze stopped at the table. Bottles of soda and juice and bags of potato chips weighed down a vinyl tablecloth. “Do you want me to open any of this?” she asked.
Anson turned from the net, one hand holding it in place. “We’ll play the game first, so better keep it covered for now.”
She added her bag of treats—the cookies she and Mercy had made, plus pretzels and gummy bears—to the collection. With a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders and gave Mercy a peppy smile. “Let’s go make some friends.”
