Her parents were eating without her and hadn’t even set a place for her. Her mom poked at a piece of chicken with her fork, her eyes tired and droopy. Kylee paused, surprised to note she’d gotten a haircut. Her dark blond hair hung around her face. But it wasn’t styled, and the cut didn’t flatter her. Bill shoveled his food into his mouth, his perpetual sneer in place. In the kitchen, flies buzzed over the sink full of dirty dishes.

“Theresa, you know how to use salt, woman?” He kicked at her chair leg.

She lifted her eyes to glower at him. “Next time salt your own food.”

Kylee cleared her throat. “Sorry I wasn’t here. I needed to get out for a bit.” She waited for a reprimand, for Bill to jump to his feet and lay into her.

Neither of them reacted. “I’m done eating,” Bill grumbled, standing and leaving his half-eaten plate of food on the table.

Kylee sat down in his vacated chair and faced her mother. “Did you get your hair cut?” Obviously she had. “I mean, why?”

Her mom poked at the food a bit more, her teeth gnawing at her lower lip. A scab healed on her mouth, and another on her arm looked like she’d recently scratched it. She often scratched when she was nervous. Theresa got up and disappeared down the hall, leaving her plate beside Bill’s.

Kylee sat stock still for another minute, but her mom didn’t return, and Bill didn’t call out from the living room. She took a deep breath, her heart beginning to slow down. Had she gotten off so easy? She’d take the silent treatment any day.

The chicken and potatoes on her mom’s plate didn’t look appealing. Kylee eyed it for a moment, then turned around and went back to her room.

Kylee woke up in the morning to the sound of voices in the other room. The sun shone through her window, speckling her bedspread with silhouettes from the grime on the glass.

She jumped out of bed. It had to be past eight in the morning. Bill never let her sleep in so long.

“Mom?” she called, moving toward their bedroom. The door was ajar, and Kylee tapped on it. “Mom?” She poked her head in.

Theresa stood in front of a mirror, doing up the buttons on a faded flower-print dress that had to be from the eighties. Bill stood next to her, scowling as he folded the collar on a green plaid shirt.

Kylee did a double take. She couldn’t remember ever seeing her mom in something besides sweats or pajamas. “Where are you guys going?”

“This is a pointless endeavor,” Bill growled.

Her mother turned around and helped him with his collar. “Try and look respectable.” She yanked hard on his shirt.

“Ow.” He narrowed his eyes at her. “It’s that damn pastor I can’t stand. Always staring right at me when he talks. Like he’s preaching to me.”

“He probably is.” Her mom picked up a small yellow purse from the bed. “Let’s go.”

“You’re lucid and awake today,” Bill said, leering at her.

“This is important. Act normal.”

Church! They were going to church! Why hadn’t someone told her? Kylee turned and raced back to her room. No time to shower. She flipped through the clothes in her closet, looking for something appropriate. Did she own a dress?

Not finding one, she settled on a nice button-up blouse and a long, beige skirt. She ran a hand over her ponytail, feeling the bumps and strays that had emerged during the night. She yanked out the holder. Price would be at the old stone church.

Little butterflies erupted in her stomach at the thought of him, and she couldn’t stop the giddiness bubbling up in her heart. A smile pressed itself to her lips, stuck on like a sticker.

Footsteps trooped down the hall, continuing past Kylee’s door and into the entryway. Her time was up. She threw off Price’s T-shirt—her new favorite pajamas—and scrambled into the skirt.

“Wait for me!” she called, scanning her room for shoes other than her sneakers. Yeah, right. She slipped her sneakers on and ran out the door.

Bill had the car on and stood in front of it, holding his shoe and scraping the bottom of it on the grill. Ew. She opened the back door and got in. Her mom was already sitting in the passenger seat, and she looked up when the door closed.

“Were you going to leave without me?” Kylee asked. “And since when do we go to church?”

Her mom swiveled around and looked at the backseat, her dull expression flickering for a moment. Before she could answer, Bill got in.

“I don’t know why we’re doing this,” he grumbled.

“Just drive,” her mother groaned, spinning around and settling into her chair. She pressed her fingers to her forehead and massaged. “I’m getting a headache.”

“I would expect so. Need something?”

“I’ll take something when we get back.”

The old country church was a ten-minute drive from their house. The original part of the building had been built with rocks and stones more than a hundred years ago. It was where the congregation gathered to hear the sermon. A newer section had been added on sometime in the past two years, and the white rectangular building looked incongruous next to the old chapel.

It might be nice inside. Kylee didn’t know. They’d never stayed for Sunday School.

Bill didn’t wait for anyone. As soon as he parked the car, he stuffed the keys into his pocket and headed across the gravel lot toward the church. Her mom followed, her legs wobbly in her heels.

The steeple bell rang out, indicating that services were starting. Kylee shrugged off the weirdness and got out of the car. A chilly breeze nipped at her bare arms, and she wished she’d grabbed a sweater.

Her new ring felt heavy on her finger. She glanced at it and saw only the barest hint of blue.

A family with five little girls hurried past her, the mother scolding her daughters to move faster. They got inside, the father closing the big wooden door behind them.

Kylee grasped the iron ring of the door and pulled.

It didn’t budge.

She gave it another tug, and then put her body into it. She held the ring with both hands and planted her feet against the wall. She stepped away, dumbfounded. She knew the door was heavy, but she couldn’t be that weak. Someone must’ve locked it after that family went inside.

She walked around the steps and peered through the wavy glass of the window. She spotted her family sitting in a pew toward the back. She pressed her face closer, searching for Price.

There he was. His dad sat ramrod straight, listening to every word. Lisa had her eyes on something in her lap, and Price was poking her, whispering in her ear. He’d combed his hair down and parted to the side like a choirboy. It made him look younger, but in an angelic sort of way.

He lifted his eyes and met hers through the window. A blush crept up her neck, and she was glad the glass wasn’t very clear. She gave a small wave and ducked out of view.

She considered going back into the car, but it would get too hot in there. She sat down on the church steps. The sermon lasted an hour, and she counted on Bill not to stay for Sunday School.

Why hadn’t she brought a book? She’d been in such a hurry to get to church, she hadn’t thought about what a boring hour it would be.

The big wooden door creaked open behind her, and Kylee looked over her shoulder, resting her chin against her collar bone. She wasn’t surprised to see Price.

He shut the door and sat next to her. “Hey.”

“Was that door locked?” she asked. “I tried to get it open. It wouldn’t budge.”

He shrugged. “It’s heavy. Must’ve gotten stuck.” He reached over and touched her hair. “I like it down.”

She’d forgotten to put a new ponytail holder in it. For that matter, she hadn’t brushed her teeth or used the bathroom or anything. “I didn’t have time to do it this morning.” She pressed her hand over her mouth and gave a discreet puff. Not too bad.

“You don’t usually come here,” Price said, settling back on his elbows. “You don’t like church?”

“They never want to come.” She bobbed her head toward the chapel. “I don’t know why they wanted to today.”

“What do you mean, they never want to come?” He frowned at her.

“Just that.” Kylee lifted a shoulder.

“Who never wants to come?”

“Bill. He hates church.”

“Why does he come, then?”

“He doesn’t. This is the first time in like, years.”

“Huh.” Price had that inquisitive look on his face again. He stared at her, his mouth in a solemn straight line, his brown eyes flicking over her face.

“What?” She brushed a hand down her face. “Is there something on me? Why are you staring at me?”

His cheeks reddened, highlighting the scattering of freckles across his nose. He turned his gaze out toward the parking lot. “You’re interesting, that’s all.”

“Thanks, I guess,” she teased. “I’ll try and take that as a compliment.” She bumped his shoulder with hers, pleased when he shoved her back. She moved closer to Price and rested her head on his shoulder. She half expected him to shrug her off or stand up.

But he didn’t. She listened to the pounding of his heart as it thumped in his chest. Did she make him as nervous as he made her? “Everything is so much better now,” she said.

His head moved against her hair. “What’s better?”

“I don’t know. Life was like, ugh before. Now I have something to look forward to.”

“What do you look forward to?”

You. No way could she say that. “Change.”

“What was so bad about your life?”

“It felt like it would never end. The same thing, day after day.” The despair, the loneliness, the anger.

“What’s different now?”

Kylee fell silent, aware of how she’d set that trap for herself. She didn’t want him to think she was some love-sick girl. That would be a great way to chase him away. “I have a friend,” she said, hoping that wasn’t too mushy.

Price reached over and squeezed her hand. “I wish I’d met you sooner.”

The comment warmed her heart. “Me, too. Better late than never, though.”

He didn't answer. Kylee bumped his shoulder again. “You should come over sometime.”

“Come over where?”

“To my house. Duh.”

The silence stretched on for longer this time. Kylee listened to a semi-truck horn in the distance, a whippoorwill calling in the trees.

“D'accord,” Price said.

“What?”

“Okay.”

“Okay what?”

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll come over sometime.”

Kylee pulled back to peer up at his face, but he wasn’t looking at her. “Really?”

“Yeah. Sometime.”

A chorus of footsteps approached from inside the chapel, and they scooted over to one side of the steps. The doors opened, and the congregation spilled out. People lingered in the doorway and on the steps, sidestepping Price and Kylee, gossiping and chatting. Some headed for their cars, others made their way toward the add-on.

“There you are.” Mr. Hudson spotted Price. “Everything all right?”

“Yeah.” Price stood up and brushed his hands on his pants. “Needed to think about some things.”

“Can we go home now?” Lisa whined, fiddling with something in the Hello Kitty bag dangling from her shoulder.

“Not until Sunday School’s over,” her father said, a stern tone in his voice.

“I better go,” Kylee said, her eyes on her mom and Bill as they walked out the big wooden doors of the chapel. Bill looked like he’d spent the entire time sucking on a lemon. “I’ll catch ya later.”

Price nodded at her. He turned his attention back to his family.

Kylee hurried down the steps after the retreating figures of her mom and stepfather, afraid Bill might leave her if she didn’t get in the car before they did.

“We’re here because of the investigation,” her mother was saying as she yanked the car door open. Kylee opened hers too, ears tuned to her parents’ conversation as she leaned forward on the worn plastic seat.

“We’re under investigation because of your stupid brat.”

Kylee pulled her door closed just as Bill slammed his shut.

“Wait, what?” she said. “You’re under investigation? Because of me?”

“Kylee—” her mother began.

“Don’t!” Bill roared, hitting the steering wheel with his hand. “We are not going to talk about this! Not now, not here, not ever!”

Kylee slumped back in her seat, recognizing the end of the discussion. She wasn’t done asking questions, though. Something strange was going on. And it had something to do with her.

Nobody talked after church. Bill changed out of his clothes and sat down in front of the television, grumbling as he nursed his beer. Theresa rolled into bed and covered herself with a blanket as if the very act of leaving the house had sucked the energy from her.

Kylee went into her room and changed also.

The doorbell rang, and she jerked upright, her ears pricking up like a dog’s. Jerking on a pair of jeans, she popped her head out the bedroom door.

“Who are you?” Bill’s gruff voice carried in the small house.

“My name’s Price. I’m your neighbor.”