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“Uh-huh,” he said, lifting his eyebrows in bafflement. “Is that so? Well now, listen. You girls ought to be grateful that

the good sisters are looking after you. Run along, now.”

Mairin felt her face fill up with a furious blush. She sounded completely hysterical. Outsiders believed the nuns were saints,

trying to rescue the poor wayward girls of Erie County from perdition. She should have kept her mouth shut. A park ranger

had no power to help her, anyway.

“Ruth!” Sister Rotrude came bustling over. “Goodness, Ruth, you must learn to stay with the group. God bless you, sir,” she

said to the ranger.

With a bemused frown, he touched the brim of his hat and moved on to the next group. Rotrude’s fingers bit into Mairin’s arm

as she marched her back to rejoin the group. Mairin would have been subjected to a tongue-lashing, except for the presence

of a tour guide, who was lecturing about the subjugation of natural forces to the service of man.

“So we are the forces of nature?” Denise whispered. “And we’re subjugated to the service of man?”

“Of nun,” Mairin said, glowering at the chaperones and rubbing her arm where Rotrude had grabbed it.

They went to view the statue of Nikola Tesla, which was a tribute to the man who had designed the first hydro-electric power

plant near the Falls. There was a park nearby with picnic tables and some carts and kiosks that were swarming with people

buying souvenirs, taking pictures in photo booths, and posing in front of the jagged cliff. More pop music played from the

radio station’s pavilion, and little kids ran around, laughing and dancing. The nuns said the girls could have their lunch

in the picnic area before boarding the bus back to the Good Shepherd.

The girls took their time eating their borderline-stale cheese sandwiches and tart plums. For a short time, it felt completely

normal to be having a picnic with friends, enjoying the sunshine and chatting together. For the first time in weeks, Angela

looked happy and relaxed.

Denise went to the bathroom and came back in a rush of excitement. “Hey, you guys,” she said. “Look at this!” She held out

her hand, palm up. “I found four quarters in the restroom!”

“Ooh, lucky you,” Janice said. “You could get an ice cream or cotton candy.”

“Nope, we’re sharing. And I know just the thing.” Denise glanced over at the nuns, who had found a table in the shade and

didn’t seem to be paying attention. “Let’s go to the photo booth!”

“What’s a photo booth?” Kay asked.

Denise rolled her eyes, then glanced over at the nuns. “Come on, there’s no line. We have to be quick.”

Giggling and shoving one another, they went into the booth two and three at a time. One quarter was good for a strip of four

black-and-white photos. They made a different face for each shot. Then they waited impatiently for the fresh pictures to emerge

from the slot.

“It’s a miracle!” Kay crowed.

“Look at us! Just look,” said Janice. “We look totally groovy.”

Leaning their heads together, Mairin and Angela studied the pictures quietly for a moment. Since there were no mirrors at

the Good Shepherd, they hadn’t seen themselves in ages. “We look like any other girls,” Mairin said.

“We do,” Angela agreed.

“Except you’re way prettier,” Mairin pointed out.

“Stop it,” Angela said. “If these were in color, you’d be the pretty one, with all that red hair.”

The other girls exclaimed over the pictures, and Mairin hid them from the nuns in her jumper pockets. They walked around the

park area, soaking in the festive sights and smells. To everyone’s delight, a marching band started playing patriotic songs.

People sang along and waved flags.

“Wow, they sound really good,” Mairin said. “Way better than any band I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s the West Point marching band,” Helen said, pointing at the printed drum. It read U.S. Military Academy Band, West Point, NY.

“They’re great,” Odessa said, bouncing up and down with excitement. “So completely great!”

“I play clarinet,” Helen said. “Maybe I’ll go to West Point.”

“Right,” Denise scoffed. “Girls can’t go to West Point. It’s not allowed.”

“Well, it ought to be,” Helen retorted.

While the band played on, a group of hippies in flowing tops and bell-bottom jeans and bare feet swirled around the band, holding signs demanding peace— No More War.

Drop Acid Not Bombs. Make Love Not War. Yelling over the music, they chanted anti-war slogans.

Some of the spectators yelled back, calling them commies and telling

them to go take a bath.

Mairin watched in fascination. A war she barely understood had taken her brother away. She pictured Liam as one of the weary,

sweat-stained soldiers on Walter Cronkite, his head covered by a helmet that didn’t seem like it would be much help against

a bomb. “No more war,” she yelled in unison with the protesters. “No more war!”

Janice grabbed her hand. “You’re gonna get us in trouble!”

“What, like we’re not already?” Mairin asked bitterly.

A squad of police officers arrived to break up the crowd, brandishing their batons. Odessa shrank away from them. “Watch out

for those guys,” she said.

Mairin used to feel safe around policemen. But knowing what they’d done to Odessa made her cautious. “Let’s get out of here,”

she said, taking Odessa’s hand. She scanned the area, wondering if there was a chance to run away, but Sister Theresa came

bustling over.

“Where do you think you’re going?” she demanded.

“Just over here to the exhibit booths,” Angela explained before Mairin could say something. “Can we, Sister? Please?” She

batted her eyes at the nun, and Sister Theresa relented.

Some of the exhibitor booths were giving out penny candies. Mairin hadn’t tasted a Bit-o-Honey or a Sugar Daddy in months,

and she wished she could gorge herself.

“The library’s here!” Angela practically squealed, rushing over to a table with a county library banner. The volunteers invited

them to apply for library cards and to join the summer reading program. Mairin grabbed a form and filled it out. At the bottom,

she wrote, “The Good Shepherd Institute is a prison! Send help!”

A rickety-looking table caught her eye. Heyday Farm Commune. Work for Us. Work for Peace. That was the place with the painted school bus where Flynn Gallagher’s girlfriend, Haley, worked. Someone handed her a flyer,

and she folded it and slipped it into her pocket with the photo strips.

“I wish we could stay for the fireworks tonight,” Helen said. “I love fireworks.”

“We’d never be allowed,” Janice said. “Not in a million years. The nuns’d probably say it’s the work of the devil.”

“We should make a pact so we never lose each other,” Angela said. “I mean, once we’re free. We could stay friends forever.”

Janice sent her a skeptical frown. “Who knows where we’re gonna be? We’ll just lose each other.”

“Well, that’s why we should pick a meeting place, something that’ll never change. And a date that’ll never change. We can

make a pact to meet right here on the Fourth of July.” Angela gestured at the Tesla monument. “That thing’s never gonna move.”

“Hey, it might work,” said Mairin, warming to the idea. After all they’d been through, they shared a bond no one on the outside

would understand. “Fourth of July, high noon.”

Odessa folded her arms and faced them with a resolute expression. “I don’t know about you guys, but I plan on being a million

miles away.”

“Yeah? Where’s that?” asked Denise.

“California.” Odessa’s dark eyes turned dreamy.

“Why California?”

“Because... California. I mean, come on. Who wouldn’t want to live in California? It’s got beaches and freedom, and the sun shines all the time. I’m gonna get into the music business.”

“Yeah, aren’t we all?” Denise regarded her skeptically.

“You’ve heard her sing,” Angela pointed out. “And just look at her.”

“I can definitely picture you in the music business,” Mairin said. Odessa had a fantastic voice and an unforgettable face,

now dramatically framed by her Afro hairstyle.

“I got connections,” Odessa said. “My mama’s got this cousin, Bobby Freeman, out there in San Francisco.”

“Never heard of him,” Denise said.

“Ever heard the song ‘Do You Wanna Dance’?”

“Everybody has,” Angela said.

“It’s an oldie,” said Denise.

“Well, that’s Bobby Freeman, my mama’s kin. And I’m gonna meet him.”

“Wow, that’s cool. But how’re you gonna get all the way out to California?” Janice asked.

“I’ll get a job and save up for a ticket,” Odessa said.

“Cool that you have a plan.” Janice shrugged. “I never been anywhere. Never had a home of my own.”

“We’ll be your home,” Kay said with a bashful smile.

Mairin patted her arm. “I still think it would be a good tradition to meet back here every Fourth of July at noon. Or whenever

we can on the Fourth. It’s a day of freedom, after all. Freedom and independence.”

As she spoke, a group of teenage girls went by, carefree in their colorful outfits of bikini-cut shorts and halter tops, beads,

and hipster sandals. Some of them wore headbands and wire-rimmed sunglasses with round lenses. Mairin felt a tug of yearning

as she watched them laughing and jostling one another. People who took their freedom for granted were going about their day.

Heading off for picnics, meeting up to watch the fireworks. Families and groups of friends. She spotted a girl with red hair

who was holding hands with a guy, and felt a spike of envy. Oh, to be free again. What would that even feel like?

The sound of a backfiring engine made Kay jump, emitting a squawk of alarm. Then she started rocking back and forth and hugging

herself. Poor girl was scared of her own shadow. Janice put her arm around Kay and patted her shoulder.

The backfire came from a big panel van backing up to the busy hot dog stand. The rear doors opened, and a guy in dungarees,

a work shirt, and a baseball cap with the Sunbeam Bread logo jumped down and went around to the back. He brought out several

racks of hot dog buns wrapped in plastic.