The Flood Girls

“There’s something you should know,” she said, and Laverna craned her neck to see her in the gloom. “We’re leaving Reverend Foote’s church.”


“What does that have to do with me?” Laverna turned back around. She found the Sinclairs to be incredibly irritating, especially the fact that they played softball in those cursed jean skirts, but she kept them around because they didn’t talk back and took direction well.

“He insists that we can’t play softball anymore,” said the taller Sinclair.

“Bullshit,” said Laverna. “I hate Reverend Foote. He is ruining this town. He is a terrible, grotesque man.”

Tabby tried to be kind for the sake of the Sinclairs. She spoke in a gentle voice. “If you can’t find anything nice to say about someone, maybe you shouldn’t say anything at all.”

Laverna glared at Tabby. “If you can’t find anything nice to say about someone, maybe you should just set them on fire.”

The shorter Sinclair spoke, in full voice, and rapidly. Laverna was stunned. “It’s also about Jake,” she said, her pale face and red hair glowing from the backseat. “We have to leave the church because of Jake. We can’t listen to the things they say about him.”

“What?” Tabby turned around, and Laverna jabbed her with a finger to redirect her attention to the road.

“Who is saying these things?” Laverna tried to interrogate the shorter Sinclair as kindly as possible. “And what are they saying?”

The shorter Sinclair took a deep breath. “Reverend Foote says that we cannot be around him. Reverend Foote says that the devil is inside Jake, and if we get too close, it will jump out and come inside us.”

“Jesus,” said Laverna, and then quickly apologized. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” said the shorter Sinclair. “I just thought you should know. We both really like Jake. He’s one of our favorite customers. He’s very respectful.”

“The whole congregation holds hands and prays for Jake’s salvation,” said the taller Sinclair. “And to keep Quinn safe from the devil inside him.”

“Holy shit,” said Tabby. “What does Bert say?”

“Nothing,” said the shorter Sinclair. “He just prays. And then everybody hugs him at the end.”

“We don’t hug Bert,” continued the taller Sinclair. “We’ve never really liked him anyway.”

“I think I need to tell Rachel about this,” said Laverna.

“Please don’t,” said the taller Sinclair. “Like I said, we’re leaving the church. We want the outfield to be a harmonious place. We’re going to start going to church in Ellis.”

“Ellis is a terrible place,” said Laverna. She reconsidered her statement and looked out at the forests whizzing past. “But any church there would be lucky to have you. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

“You’re our coach,” said the shorter Sinclair. “This is about the team. We know that Jake and Rachel are close, and we don’t want Rachel to have any distractions.”

“Amen,” said Laverna, and she meant it. She continued to watch for deer, disturbed by this news but refusing to acknowledge it out loud. Nothing could be done about the reverend. He had proven to be insidious and sneaky, and normally Laverna admired such things. He had a whole church on his side, and Laverna’s fan club were mostly drunk and unorganized. She would have to do this on her own. For now, she could offer Jake her support, and keep watch for any wildlife on a suicide mission.





A Name for Men like You




Bert planned for a trip to Idaho Falls, a revival meeting. Krystal and the baby would accompany him, for the entire weekend. Bert knew that Jake would only cause a distraction, and Krystal paid Martha Man Hands for babysitting, even though Jake protested he was almost thirteen and was capable of more housework than women three times his age. Martha gladly took the money, and two hundred dollars more from Rachel. Hush money. Martha did not want to babysit anyway.

Jake showed up fully prepared the next morning, just as Rachel was drinking her first cup of coffee. He carried his tiny suitcase, and a small tin briefcase that contained a camera from the 1960s, complete with effect lenses and an impossibly compact tripod.

“I’m ready,” he announced. He wore a newsboy cap and a scarf wrapped four times around his neck.

“Travel clothes? You look like Amelia Earhart.” Rachel laughed. “Are you sure you don’t need goggles?”

“That’s not funny,” said Jake. “Take me to the city, please. I made a mixed tape for our travels.”

Rachel finished her coffee, and he watched as she threw some things in a duffel bag, and refrained from commenting when he noticed that she did not fold her clothes.

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