Free Children of the Earth by Anna Schumacher

her into a comfortable haze, watched their faces animate as they volleyed around ideas for the teen center.
    “We should raise money for a ping-pong table,” said a Hispanic guy with sparkling brown eyes. “And have tournaments!”
    “We can host dances every month, with cool themes like the Roaring Twenties and Ski Lodge Chic,” Monica suggested.
    “And we can do an antidrug series, but not like one of those cheesy after-school-special ones that just make everyone want to try them more,” Mark added.
    Monica took out an iPad and started jotting down everyone’s ideas, “so we don’t miss any of the awesome,” she said, beaming at Daphne.
    “This is what all our meetings are like,” Hilary whispered in Daphne’s ear. “Don’t tell me you don’t want in.”
    Daphne nodded. She could feel the positive energy in the group, and she longed to let it sweep her away. But the more they talked, the more she felt herself retreating into the emptiness inside of her, succumbing to the doubt that thrummed like a plucked guitar string through her days. She would have given anything to be like the youth group: strong and solid in their convictions, always sure that what they were doing was right.
    But how could she be sure of anything? God told her one thing, but her heart said another—and the more at odds they were, the less she knew what to believe.

8
    HIS DAD ’S BUICK STILL SMELL ED like dead cow and old people’s breath, but Doug didn’t care as long as it was driving him away from the mansion on the hill and Janie’s impenetrable sadness. He pushed the passenger seat back as far as it would go and stretched out his legs, grunting with satisfaction as his toes cracked inside his Nikes.
    His dad gave him the side-eye but kept his mouth shut. They’d never really seen eye to eye, but the old fart had actually started being decent to him since the wedding. All of a sudden it was like they had something in common: both tethered to Carbon County by an unwanted ball and chain, both itching to get to the world beyond those mountains but not even sure where they’d go if they did.
    It didn’t really surprise him when Vince Varley knocked on the door to the den earlier that evening, interrupting the game Doug was half-watching.
    “Son, let’s take a ride,” Vince said. His frame blocked out the light filtering in from the hall, a dark silhouette in jeans and a cowboy hat.
    Doug didn’t argue. He just stood and left, the TV casting flickering lights across Janie’s face as she snoozed on the far end of the couch, an open-mouthed lump inside her grimy sleeping bag.
    Getting away from her felt good. She wasn’t the Janie he’d married, the girl whose Victoria’s Secret Pink panties he’d been obsessed with getting into in high school. That Janie was blond and pretty. She had big boobs, wore sexy clothes, and knew how to laugh and have a good time. This Janie was a zombie, gray skinned and foul breathed. She never laughed. She never did
an
ything
except give Doug a royal sense of the creeps.
    If there was something he could say or do to bring the old Janie back, he would. He’d take being tethered to that chubby-cheeked Jesus freak over ghost-town Janie any day. But everything he said or did slid right down those placid cheeks like rain on a windowpane. And so he’d stopped trying, started spending more time away from the house, in bars like the Vein, where there was music and excitement, cold beer and loud laughter and the thrum of life.
    “Son, open up that glove box and pull out the map.” Vince’s gruff command snapped him back to the Buick’s leathery interior and the swirling fog outside the window.
    “Dude, we’re not lost.” Doug made no move to follow his dad’s instructions. “You’ve driven this road a million times.”
    “Not for directions.” Vince’s hands tightened on the wheel. “I want to show you something.”
    “Fine.” Doug fumbled with the fancy fake-gold latch. A bulb went