Free Leaving Fishers by Margaret Peterson Haddix

realized she was at the top. Brad and Angela backed away. She couldn’t see them behind her.
    I hate heights, she wanted to say. I don’t have to do this, do I? Maybe she could make it into a joke, say something like, “I’d rather have chocolate.” But everyone else had been totally serious. The somber mood in the room felt like a weight on her chest.
    Angela’s clear voice asked behind her, “Do you trust us?”
    “Yes,” Dorry mumbled.
    “Are you willing to stake your life to prove it?”
    “Yes,” Dorry mumbled again.
    And then Dorry was supposed to fall backward, but she couldn’t make herself do it. Sheremembered once when she’d been nine or ten, and Marissa had talked her into going up on the high dive at the Bryden pool. She’d stood at the edge of the diving board, looking down at the blue, blue water, which seemed miles away. All she was supposed to do then was jump, feet first, facing forward, but she hadn’t been able to. She’d backed down the ladder in shame, jeers ringing in her ears from the older boys waiting in line behind her.
    “Dorry,” Angela said behind her, so softly that probably no one below them heard. “We want you to be one of us. But if you aren’t willing to trust us, we can’t trust you.”
    Dorry squeezed her eyes shut and tilted her head back. Before she had decided if she was going to let herself fall entirely, Brad and Angela’s hands were on her back, lifting her up. She was safe. It was over. Dorry wanted to cry and laugh all at once. Angela hugged her tight, and then Brad did, too, just as if she’d really fallen, really proven her trust. They held her hands climbing down the stairs. Their hands were warm and strong. She felt like a little girl safe between her parents. She felt overwhelmed with relief and joy and—though she tried to hide it—shame. Why hadn’t she let herself fall? She did trust Brad and Angela, didn’t she?
    Dorry barely watched the others repeat the ritual. Everything seemed to be happening at a great distance. Even if someone had fallen without being caught, had tumbled down the stairs and landed right at her feet, she wouldn’t have had the energy to help them, or even to step back and let someone else help.
    At the end, Pastor Jim went around hugging everyone who had been caught. Then he stood back and proclaimed, “You are all ready.”
    His words were like a blessing.
    He led them all out the back door of the lodge, down the steps from the deck, and into the dark ravine. Dorry stumbled over roots and rocks, but every time she almost fell, Brad or Angela caught her arm. Finally, when the crowd stood at the bottom of the ravine, beside a roaring brook, Pastor Jim stopped them.
    “The early Christians met in the catacombs of Rome,” he said. “It was probably about this dark.”
    High overhead, practically hidden by trees, Dorry could see a thin moon. It went behind a cloud.
    “But Christians, true Christians, are not afraid of the dark. We know the true light.” Pastor Jim struck a match and it sprang to life. He touched the match to a candle and the glow lit up his face.“All of you know about the salvation Jesus offers you. You know that you are steeped in sin, that, as you are, you are filthy and despicable and unfit for the sight of God. You know that only Jesus’ intercession, his mercy and sacrifice, can redeem you. He said, ‘I am the way and the truth and the life; no one comes to the Father, but by me.’ He said, ‘You must be born anew.’ Will you come? Will you renounce your former life, your sin, and your evil and be born anew?”
    Dorry thought about getting rid of her shame over not truly falling into Brad and Angela’s arms. And beyond that—if she was born again, would she be free of feeling fat and ugly and undesirable? Would she be as happy as all the Fishers? Maybe they weren’t crazy, as she’d thought. They just focused on what was truly important—God.
    Nobody spoke. Pastor Jim placed the candle