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Maybe they still think I'm seven or eight. Maybe when they look at all those other girls — those prettier, more outgoing girls with their wild hair, their curves blossoming so suddenly and drastically they practically burst out of their shifts like over-ripened fruit, spilling seeds from the top of the tree…. Maybe they have never seen me, at all.

I can't disobey her. She's right. It's against the rules and if she says I have to be here, that takes precedence over my right to wander around like any other Kingdom Come member.

“All right then,” I finally mumble and sit in a chair by the window. I pull my knitting out and start working on the blue scarf I've been messing around with for the last week. This way I'm working, even if I'm stealing a glance here and there at the people outside the window.

She eats noisily, banging her spoon against the bottom of the stoneware bowl to scrape up the last bits. When she's done, she gets up and shuffles over to the sink, washing the bowl and dropping it into the rack without saying anything. I can almost hear her thoughts bouncing around in her head and wonder what's going on in there. Is she thinking about conversations from today? Or is she thinking about the conversation we just had?

Then, strangely, she yawns hugely. Almost comically. When she comes back into the living room, she stretches out full-length on the sofa and folds her hands over her rib cage. Her eyes are closed almost immediately.

Her work they couldn't really have been that tough, could it?

That reminds me of a story that Abbie told me, of how her mom came home smelling of smoke and something sweet. A lot of the aunties brought in some bad habits from outside the compound, and Abbie was suspicious that sometimes the ladies got together and just did whatever they wanted. Gossiped, lied, drank alcohol or even worse. Alcohol is strictly forbidden here. Devil in a bottle, as Mama has told me several times.

And yet, she just started snoring.

The sun is down, and the crickets are loud and exuberant. The night is warm enough that everyone seems energetic. It would have been a good night for a bonfire. A good night for a dance, maybe, or one of those events where Father Daddy tells us Bible stories in his beautiful, haunting voice.

But the ceremony is all we have scheduled. It is literally the only thing happening in our compound tonight. Everyone is going except me.

And Mama, who seems to be snoring just to make the point that she doesn't care.

“Mama, are you sleeping?” I ask quietly.

She doesn’t answer, just continues to breathe. Deeper and deeper, a little slower each time. She's sinking into a comfortable darkness, letting herself succumb to her weariness. It must feel nice. But here I am, all nerves and energy.

I wish I could go out. A group of three girls in shifts has just hurried by, probably the last of everybody. Everybody's ready to go. Everybody's probably already at the barn already. Everybody but me.

“Mama?”

She continues snoring. The sound fills the room. The very clean room, which I was hoping she would have noticed.

“Mama, since I've done with everything… Would you mind if I go?”

She just snores some more. That's it.

Which means she didn't tell me not to go. She didn't answer me at all.

So without a direct order… I can go, can't I?

Before I have a lot more time to think about it and realize what kind of chance I'm taking, I drop my knitting back in the basket and stand. I'm through the front door in just three steps, silently closing it behind me.

Taking my skirts in my fist, I rush behind the group. I can only see them just barely, far up, with the light of torches bouncing back and forth like fireflies. They’re around the front of the ceremony barn now, gathered. Probably watching. Maybe hearing Father Daddy or Brother Owen make a speech. Sometimes they make speeches. Sometimes they call out words that just zing right through to the middle of my soul.

As I rush down the hard-packed trail, I see the other aunties from the reclamation shed. They don't see me. They're talking to each other, breaking into laughter every few seconds. I should probably avoid them, so I cut behind the back of the barn and around the far side. There's nobody over here, but there is also nothing to see. Everyone's on the other side of the barn and I won't be able to make my way to the entrance.

My heart sinks as I realize I missed my chance. And for what? Risking punishment to stand at the back of the barn and see nothing?

I'm about to give up what I notice an amber blade of light falling on the dark rushes in front of me. Carefully I edge up to it and notice a space between the boards of the barn. Light pours through it and I sneak up to the side, pressing my hands against the weathered boards, pushing forward.

My breath catches in my throat. I've never seen this before. No one is allowed to see this, actually. The ceremony has already begun. The barn door has already been closed. Through the gap in the boards, I see the interior of the barn, lit from the strings of lights across the rafters. Father Daddy and Brother Owen are on their thrones to the right side. Gina walks up slowly with four aunties surrounding her. She looks nervous. But then she also looks like the bossy brat I've known all my life.

But then one of the aunties takes her arm and whips the back of her dress up, twisting it into a cable that she uses to pin her arms behind her. Gina starts to look different.

My heart begins to race. What is this? What are they doing to her? I've never seen anything like this… is this the ceremony?

And yet, only Gina is afraid. Everyone else seems to know what's going on. It must be all right. Father Daddy and Brother Owen would never harm her. They must be teaching her a lesson.

I press forward further, pushing up on my toes to see more. Two of the aunties mount the platform where Father Daddy and Brother Owen are seated. They slide around behind them and stroke their shoulders, reaching to the front and untying their robes. Father Daddy's eyes sweep the room, and I hold my breath, almost positive he's going to be able to see me. He knows things. He can see right through you. So many times his eyes have almost found mine, but then skated right over me.