Page 38 of Harnessed in Gold

“No, notallof us,” she agrees as she scans our faces. “But what about two of us? Any volunteers?”

If it weren’t winter, the ensuing silence would be broken only by crickets.

“Betts, you’re going,” she declares.

I recoil. “Me? Why me?”

“Cause you’re the sweetest.”

“Fuck,” I mutter, feeling decidedly sour.

“And Aaron,” she says.

He’s shaking his head, his eyes drifting all over the computer screen. “I would, but Ave, I’m looking at these Facebook pictures, and I can’t find a single person of color in any of them. Not a single one.”

The rest of us nod. Aaron’s not an option.

“Then it should be you, Leo,” Avery says, avoiding my eyes. “Out of everyone else, you clean up the prettiest.”

Selfishly, I want to argue, but she’s right. Leo can be scrubbed and combed and dressed up to look as clean cut as any well-bred southern boy.

With a decisive lift of his chin, Rime proclaims, “I’ll go.”

Avery and Topaz snort, and Leo and Aaron shake their heads. I keep my mouth shut and my face blank. Rime’s going to bat for me,and although I don’t think it’s going to work, I appreciate the gesture.

“Why not?” he asks.

“Dude,” Aaron chuckles. “No one’s gonna believe Batman ‘got religion.’”

Ah, good old Aaron, he has a way of putting the truth into words. A way that makes us all laugh.

Amidst the mirth, my eyes meet Leo’s. “It’s fine,” I say. “Leo and I will go. That is, Leo, if you want to?”

“Yeah.” His smile is gentle. “We’re the best ones to do this.”

“Then it’s settled. Sunday morning, Leo and I are going to church.”

CHAPTER NINE

Liv picksat the granola on top of her yogurt. “I wish they didn’t put these things in here.”

“What?” I ask. “The dried cranberries? They’re good.”

“Whatever happened to good old-fashioned raisins?”

I shrug. It’s nine o’clock in the morning, too early for such a demanding gastronomical question. As usual, the dining hall is nearly empty this early on a Friday. In fact, Liv and I wouldn’t normally be here either, but my Thursday night sleepovers at O-Chi are a thing of the past. Liv’s, however, haven’t been. Not until this week.

“So, uh, you came home last night for a change.” My attempt to sound casual comes out strained.

“Yeah, well, you know—” She idly stirs her yogurt.

“Know what?”

She drops her spoon with a clank and her shoulders sag.

“Liv,” I urge gently. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. Ask Braden.” She shakes her head and goes back to picking cranberries out of her granola. “Cause he’s acting like something’s crawled up his butt and died.”