Free Empress of the World by Sara Ryan Page A

“That is so adorable! I can just see you with a roomful of them. Especially now! ‘Okay, kids, today we’re going to make hair shirts!’”
    Battle scoops up a big handful of M&Ms and puts them all in her mouth at once. Then she makes a horrible face that involves sticking her tongue out while it has a bunch of chewed-up M&Ms on it.
    “Do you ever dance?” I ask. I picture Battle twirling gracefully through a room full of cribs and playpens, while all the babies watch with wide-open happy eyes, cooing and gurgling.
    Battle shakes her head. “It’s mostly about changing diapers.”
    Katrina says, “Hmmm . . .diapers. I don’t know about that. But it’s basically a nice dodge—it makes you look all virtuous, buthave to listen to the nonsense.”
    “Do you think it’s all nonsense?” I ask. “My parents don’t go, but sometimes I’ve gone with friends, and I don’t know . . . so many people seem to get so much out of it.”
    Katrina says, “My dad’s family are all real serious about it. My grandparents came and prayed over us once when Mom and Dad weren’t divorced yet. They said something about holding onto the strength of the family. It just made me feel creepy. My mom stopped all that once she and Dad split up. I just live in fear that she’ll hook up with some guy who’ll be just as nuts for it as my grandparents are, and he and Mom will decide I need to be saved or something.”
    Battle sits up and takes a large gulp of Coke. “We’re not going to sleep for days,” she says, sounding rather pleased about the prospect.
    “Does your dad talk about God at home?” I ask.
    Battle shakes her head. “He writes his sermons in the study and we’re not supposed to disturb him. And he goes and visits people sometimes in the evenings, like if somebody’s dying, but he doesn’t talk much about it to me and Mom. He doesn’t really talk much about anything, when you get right down to it. But Mom makes up for that.” She sighs.
    “You know what I think about religion?” I ask. Not waiting for an answer, I say, “I think it would be great if it was all clear-cut the way it is in Madeline L’Engle books. Where you know who the bad guys are and it’s all important and beautiful and it means that you can communicate telepathically with dolphins.”
    Katrina and Battle both burst out laughing. Katrina says, “Hey, sign me up! Bring on the dolphins!”
    We sit for a while, munching candy and gulping soda. I can feel my heart rate speed up. I think the Coke is traveling directly through my veins. Then again, maybe I’m just nervous.
    “I need a cigarette,” says Katrina.
    “Then you had best blow the smoke out the window, because I am not going to have my lungs blackened by your secondhand fumes,” Battle announces.
    Katrina says, “I told you I’m going to quit soon! It’s just that things are kind of stressful right now. I want to quit when it’s a little more calm.”
    “Oh, and when exactly is this great calmness going to descend?” I ask. Smoking helps with stress? Maybe I should start. No, Battle hates it.
    “I don’t know, but it’ll be sometime soon, so just shut up about it! I know it’s an addiction. I know it’s bad for me. I Just Like Doing It! Someday I will want to stop, I know that. Trust me,” she says, walking over to the window with cigarette already in mouth.
    “Do you have a lot of friends at home who smoke?” Battle asks suspiciously.
    “No. But Mom does. She was mad when she found out I was, but she’s kind of tolerating it now.”
    “How did you start?” I ask.
    Katrina takes a reflective puff before she answers, and blows the smoke out the window. “I took one of hers out of her purse. I was all upset—it was around the time of the divorce—and Mom would always say that cigarettes were the only thing that kept her sane. I thought maybe if I had one, it would keep me sane too. It didn’t, but I liked it anyway. Then I just started buying them and keeping