Free Waves of Light by Naomi Kinsman

the one that hurt mostright now. A fresh wave of guilt washed over me. I was more upset over Andrew than I was over Mom practically having a heart attack last night. What kind of crazy person was I?
    I shrugged.
    “You know, you’re right. Life isn’t fair. Sometimes the unfairness grows so big, it feels like we’re drowning in it.”
    Penny was trying to help; I knew that. But she couldn’t understand how my particular kind of drowning felt. It was selfish and rotten because all I wanted was for Annabelle to go away, to stop messing up my life and stealing all my friends.
    “So, I promised to tell you more about the play.” Though it seemed like a change of subject, Penny twisted and untwisted her fingers, like she was about to tell me about something important, something relevant.
    “I wrote that story a long time ago, back when I was sixteen and away at summer camp. That year was full of disappointment. I’d trained as a gymnast, but at the meet where I tried to qualify for the Olympic team, I fell and shattered my leg in twelve places. Poof. Olympic hopes gone. Then while I was still in my cast, I came down with mono. So I was super sick, miserable, and ready to jump out of my skin with frustration. On top of all that, the boy I liked gave up on me because I was such a mess.”
    This wasn’t making me feel any better. She was only proving my point: you couldn’t count on anything or anyone — not even yourself. In the end, everything always fell apart.
    Penny continued her story, “Then just before summer began, my grandma had a heart attack and moved into an assisted living facility. I’d been living with my grandma, so I had to move. My only other relative was an aunt, who ran a Christian summer camp up here, so to camp I went. I hated everything about it. All the campers seemed so sure that God was on their side, helping them; I couldn’t stand all of their sureness. Not when I felt so confused.
    “Early one morning, I had to get away. I ignored the distant rumbles of thunder and headed out to the woods on my crutches. I was deep in the forest when the rain started to fall. Then lightning cracked open the sky. I was trapped, alone, and terrified. I found a dry space underneath an overhanging rock, and I curled up to wait out the storm. While I laid there, the storm battering all around me, this story arrived fully formed in my mind — as if someone whispered it into my ear.”
    Penny stopped twisting her fingers. “Can I show it to you?”
    The dead quiet after her question caused me to look up. I could see in her face that she hadn’t shown the story to anyone else.
    “I told the others the cleaned-up version of the story. It’s still a good story, but I think you might like to see the version I wrote as soon as I got out of that forest.” She took a water-stained journal off her shelf and handed it to me. “Keep it for as long as you need to.”
    I set aside the tissues and took the book. “I don’t think …”
    “I’m not trying to convince you that life is fair. We both know it isn’t fair most of the time. All I’m saying is that even when we can’t see how, God takes the hard things in our lives and turns them into something beautiful.”
    An echo of what I’d said to Frankie. I realized I had the same argument she’d had.
    “I don’t want to believe in a God who ruins people’s lives.”
    “Me neither,” Penny said. “But bad things happen, regardless of what God desires. I want to believe he creates hope afterward.”
    I must have looked skeptical because Penny added, “You don’t have to take my word for it, though. Just promise me you’ll pay attention and stay open, okay? Miracles can’t come into our lives if we shut them out.”
    I stared down at the notebook. Could an old story that Penny had written a long time ago help me? I had no idea how, but I wanted to believe it could. Right now, I needed some fresh air. I needed space. I needed to draw.
    On my way