“Fine, I’ll bite. What does WWJD stand for?”
“It stands for What Would Jesus Do? Whenever I have a really big decision to make, I ask myself that question.”
“So Jesus told you to wear that Hello Kitty sweater with yarn whiskers?”
“Easy for you to joke.” Alice drags her sleeve down. “You don’t need to be reminded of what JC would do. You do it automatically.”
“I’m not following.”
“When you sacrificed your own life to save Liv’s.”
“I see,” I mutter, wary.
“In a lot of ways, you’re closer to Jesus than I’ll ever be.”
“I had no idea. I’m … sorry?”
“I’m all right with it. I understand that I’m a work in progress. Most of us are. We have a lot of business to do on this earth to be our best selves. Even my mother says she isn’t as close to God as some of the women she knows. Take Mrs. Lapin, for example.”
“No thanks.”
“My mother says she gives to her parish and her community selflessly, so she’s Father Carl’s favorite. She was nominated Catholic Woman of the Year by the lay board of Saint Theresa’s. That’s a big deal.”
Alice knows she may as well be talking about Wiccan white magic when she talks to me about parishes and priests. The Spunk girls don’t spend a lot of downtime in churches. Mom is a self-proclaimed skeptic, which is an agnostic on steroids. The word gets under my skin—ag-gnaw-stick—the way Mom overarticulates it, as if to burn it into my memory in case she’s accused of witchcraft and I’m called to her defense. “Why are you telling me this?”
“No reason.” She checks her arm. “Well, okay. There’s a reason. Since we’re coming up on the anniversary of the Shiverton Abduction, we’re having a special prayer mass tonight. To thank God for bringing you home.”
“Alice,” I repeat, my voice tinged with warning.
“I thought you might come with me.”
“Alice.”
“It doesn’t matter if you believe in God.”
“Does it matter if I’ve never set foot in a church?”
“That’s okay! Jesus is welcoming. And Liv will be there. She got made youth ministry leader again this year. Not that it’s fair to get it two years in a row. I mean, what can she add? It’s not like she’ll have a fresh perspective.”
“Good point.”
“A sympathy vote after the Shiverton Abduction, if I might be so bold. At school, she might be queen bee to my drone. But in youth ministry, I could stage a coup at any time and be named leader. No one in youth ministry likes her. They think she’s bossy. And that maybe she doesn’t have the right intentions in her heart. But never repeat that!”
“I can guarantee I will not,” I promise.
“She wouldn’t have won reelection if it wasn’t for the Shiverton Abduction.”
“You can stop saying the Shiverton Abduction now.”
“Right. Sorry. So, like I said, come. Everyone would be praying for you. It’s nice. Not creepy at all.”
Alice is wrong: I never thought of prayer as creepy. More like a built-in advantage religious people have, a higher probability of their wishes being granted over nonreligious people.
“I’ll think about it,” I say.
“Cool. Speaking of Liv, what’s up with her dating Shane Cuthbert? He smells like a skunk’s butt.”
“That would be weed, Alice.”
She giggles. “Not that I think it’s so out of character. You don’t play Prey without a little bit of a dark side.”
“That was ages ago. And everybody plays Prey, Alice.”
“I don’t.”
I jump up. “We should run before it gets too cold.”
“I have bad shoes.”
“Okay, then. Jumping jacks!” I windmill my arms and legs in place, and Alice laughs, covering her mouth. “C’mon, Minke Whale! One, two, three—” I shout.
Alice’s mouth falls open.
“What?” I whirl around.
“Is that Paula Papademetriou?” she says.
Paula approaches, swathed in a cape-style coat the color of caramel, glamorous against the stark pines. She walks with a funny hitch, navigating the half-frozen earth’s bumps and buckles, her heels getting caught. Still, she’s polished and gorgeous.
“Who looks like that?” Alice murmurs.
Misguided pride spreads warm across the tops of my cheeks.
“I’m glad I found you,” Paula says to me, and presents a sleek, gloved hand to Alice. “Hi, Julia’s friend.”
“This is Alice,” I say. “She’s my next-door neighbor.” I want to pinch myself for saying that. Could I not just say friend?
Alice dives to shake her hand. “I’m Alice.”
“Alice—right. Got it. It’s nice to meet you, Alice. I live here in Shiverton too.”
“I know you do, on Central Street,” Alice says, being way creepy.
Paula smiles at her obliquely for a moment, then turns to me. “Julia, I am so sorry to pull you away. Is there any chance I could have a word with you privately?”