Free Life as We Knew It by Susan Beth Pfeffer Page A

of those pitying looks that always make me want to slug her. "Reverend Marshall doesn't have to tell us how much to eat," she said. "He trusts us to hear God's voice."
    "So God's the one telling you not to eat?" I said. "What? He called you up and said, 'Split the peanut butter and jelly sandwich with the poor unfortunates'?"
    "I'm starting to think you're the poor unfortunate," Megan said.
    "And I'm starting to think you're crazy," I said. That's something I've been thinking for a while now, but haven't said out loud.
    "Why?" Megan asked and for a moment she really was angry like she used to get when we were 12. But then she bowed her head, closed her eyes, and moved her lips, in prayer I guess.
    "What?" I said.
    "I begged God for forgiveness," she said. "And if I were you, Miranda, I'd ask for divine forgiveness, also."
    "God doesn't want you to starve to death," I said. "How can you believe in a God that would ask that of you?"
    "But He isn't asking," she said. "Honestly, Miranda, you're making an awfully big deal over half a sandwich."
    "Promise me you won't stop eating," I said.
    Megan smiled and I think that was what scared me the most. "I'll get my sustenance as God wishes me to,"
    she said. "There are lots of different ways of being hungry, you know. Some people are hungry for food and others are hungry for God's love." She gave me a look then, pure Megan, to let me know which camp I fell into.
    "Eat your sandwich tomorrow," I said. "Indulge me. If you insist on starving, at least wait until Saturday when I won't have to watch."
    "You don't have to watch now," she said, and walked away from me to join her church friends again.
    June 7
    I dreamed last night of Becky. She was in heaven, which looked an awful lot like the Jersey shore, the way I remember it from summers ago, when the tides behaved themselves and the Atlantic was the world's most glorious swimming pool. Becky looked like she had before she got sick, with those long blonde braids. I was always so jealous of her hair when we were young.
    "Is this Heaven?" I asked her.
    "Yes, it is," she said. Only then she closed a giant gate, so I was on one side and she and the ocean were on the other.
    "Let me in," I said. "Did Megan tell you not to let me into Heaven?"
    Becky laughed. I haven't thought about Becky's laugh in a long time. She used to giggle all the time and whenever she did, she'd get me laughing. Sometimes we'd laugh for five straight minutes with no idea what we were laughing about.
    "It's not Megan's fault," she said. "It's yours."
    "What did I do wrong?" I asked. Well, whined, really. Even in my sleep, I thought I could have worded it better.
    "You can't enter Heaven because you're not dead," Becky said. "You're not good enough to be dead."
    "I will be. I promise," I said, and then I woke up. I was shaking, the dream disturbed me so much. It wasn't like it was a nightmare. It was just, I don't know. I don't know the words to describe what it felt like to be locked out of Heaven, to be so desperate that I longed to die.
    School is a complete waste of time. The only classes I have are English and history; all my other teachers have vanished. In English, Mr. Clifford reads out loud, short stories and poems. Ms. Hammish tries to put things in historic perspective for us, but half the time someone in class starts crying. I haven't cried in school yet, but I've come awfully close. When we're not in class, we wander around the school building and exchange rumors. One kid said he knew where there was a Dairy Queen still in business but he wouldn't tell us where. Another kid said she heard that we were never getting electricity back, that the scientists were working on perfecting solar energy. And of course lots of kids say the moon's getting closer and closer to earth and we'll all be dead by Christmas. Sammi seems convinced of that.
    At lunch today, Megan tore her sandwich in two, and gave half of it to Sammi and half to Michael.
    She looked at me when she