Free Embittered Ruby by Nicole O'Dell

wouldn’t understand her. Tears stung her eyes. Why was she acting like such a baby? She’d never been a loner before, but now she wanted to hide in her room all day. She missed the old happy, outgoing Carmen she’d once been, but that girl had disappeared. The girl without a care in the world. The one who mattered. Carmen dug her fingernails into her palm. The pain was good for a moment’s relief.
    “Look, girls. There’re tons of kids over there.” Mom gestured to the section at the front left where three rows were filled with teens and younger youth. “Do you want to go sit with them?”
    What, like a play date? No thanks.
    “We do!” Kimberley grabbed Harper’s hand and yanked her toward the front.
    “Uh. I’ll pass.” Carmen slid into a chair next to her mom and slouched, for once wishing Kim and Harper were less friendly.
    The music started.
Ugh. Here we go
. Carmen rose from her chair after she made sure everyone else had stood. Once upon a time, she’d loved this stuff. Until logic made her almost positive God didn’t exist except as the higher power people could find deep within themselves. He was a good idea for people to lean on when they were in trouble. But God or no God, Carmen’s life had gone up and down, been happy or sad, subject to everyone else’s whims and stupid decisions. None of it seemed to depend on an unseen force of nature, so it made more sense to accept that He wasn’t real.
    The woven fabric on the seat back in front of her prickled under her fingernail as she picked at the loose threads. Ten. Ten lighting fixtures hung low from the ceiling. Three. Three men in suits occupied thrones—okay, seats—on the stage. Or they’d probably call it a platform. Whatever.
    Why did people have to raise their hands when they sang? Maybe they wanted to be the best little worshipper to convince everyone around them they were closest to God. Didn’t the Bible say people should be private when they prayed and stuff? Carmen could swear she’d heard that somewhere.
    Where were the doors? Carmen shifted her feet and glanced around the room for an escape route. Could she leave to go to the bathroom? No. Everyone would look at her, and she’d make a spectacle of herself. What if she just sat down? Was there some rule against sitting if you weren’t pushing a walker? She could check her text messages to pass the time. Surely Nate had written. He’d better have—not one message yesterday. First time he’d missed a day in the history of their relationship. Hopefully the last time.
    “Thank you, worship team and band. You can all be seated.” The silver-haired pastor held his hands out in front of him and gestured downward.
    Finally.
    “I’m privileged to introduce our guests to you today. They’ve come all the way from Colorado to share the ways God has touched them and is now touching lives through them. I could ramble on and on…”
    I’m sure you could
.
    “…save as much time as possible for our guests to share with you. I’d first like to welcome Ben Bradley, director of Diamond Estates.”
    A wavy-haired guy in a shiny gray suit took four steps—more like leaps—and bounded onto the stage. He pumped the pastor’s hand and flashed a full set of sparkly whites at the congregation. Oh boy—one of those.
    “Before I begin, let’s put first things first and pray.” He lifted his arms toward the ceiling and looked up. “Father, I come before You surrendered as Your servant. Please grant me the words to say to reveal Your heart to these precious people, and please open their hearts and minds to Your touch. Amen.”
    Hmm. Figured he’d be more wordy.
    Ben ran his fingers through the silver-peppered hair above each ear then looked out at the audience with kind eyes. “Today’s teens are hurting. Sometimes so much so the only way to get them grounded in faith and teach them how to make good decisions is to pluck them out of their current environment completely. We’ll call it