Page 73 of Intermission

“So far.” Noah pauses as another race begins. “Your parents think you’re going to Jenna’s Friday night, right?”

“Iamgoing to Jenna’s Friday night.”

“Right.” Noah shifts in his seat. “But then you and Jenna are planning to meet up with me later.”

“So?”

“How about, instead, you and Jenna go to the movies on your own. And I...” Noah pauses, inhales, and then exhales hard through pursed lips. “I’ll go to your house.”

“Are younuts?”

The horror I feel must match my face because Noah laughs. “What are they gonna do, Faith? Sic the dog on me?”

“Who knows? I wouldn’t put anything past my mother anymore. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“You think Janey would hurt me?”

“It’s not that. Janey wouldn’t hurt you. She knows you. And I don’t mean physically. It’s mymom.” I groan. “She’s just mean. And—andparanoid. And it didn’t help, having Aunt Becca call last week, asking for money. Whenever she calls, Mom gives me the evil eye for days after.”

“Why doyouget the evil eye?”

I explain about the way Aunt Becca is and how strict, yet hypocritical my mom’s parents are.

“Is that why your mom is so anti-church?”

“She’s not anti-church. She’s anti toomuchchurch. But, yeah. It’s probably because of the way she was raised and the way Becca experiments with different faiths. Mom believes religion is dangerous unless taken in very small doses.”

“And she has the proof to back it up,” Noah nods. “That’s sad.”

“Yeah. But I don’t know why I have to be punished for my aunt’s mistakes.” I scowl down at the track. “This past week, Mom’s really gone mental on me. I have to account for every minute of every day.If I come home from school a little late, she checks the mileage on my car. It’s so not fair. She’s totally convinced that you’re some pervert, looking to steal my virtue.”

“They just want to protect you. And that’s why I have to go down there. I want to protect you, too. I think I can get them to see that.”

Noah’s words warm me more than the wool blanket, but they can’t chase away the butterflies flitting around in my stomach. The thought of him showing up at our door, unexpected...

“I don’t want you to have to face her alone.”

“You do it all the time. And besides, I don’t intend to go alone. Not really.”

“Who’s going with you?”

He points up.

“Oh. Right.”

“I’m going to pray hard. Mac and Amanda will pray, too.” Noah squeezes my hand, and the warmth in his eyes intensifies. “Will you pray about it with me? Can you trust God to take care of... us?”

“I’ll try.”

It isn’t an idle promise. Being around Noah, listening to him pray, praying with him... Prayer is becoming my default mode these days.

Want to scream at Mom? Pray. Want to tell your parents every rotten thing your older sister has ever done—or at least the ones you know about? Pray. Want to grab a pint of ice cream and devour all your toxic feelings?

I’m still working on that one. There is never enough ice cream in our house.

Noah lets go of my hand and puts his arm around my shoulders.

I swallow. Hard. What if God wants Noah and me apart before he leaves for London? What if my mom, even in her caustic way, is walking more in God’s will than we are?