Free Sophie Under Pressure by Nancy N. Rue Page B

She decided it was okay if she made the boy a girl. Quickly she created a picture in her mind of her sandal-footed self, holding up a couple of fish and five very small loaves of bread. She wasn’t sure what barley was, but she mentally sprinkled some seeds on top of the loaves and let it go at that. The important thing was the feeling she was already getting in her chest, like her heart was so afraid Jesus wouldn’t like what she had to offer. But after all, she was the only one in the whole crowd who had bothered to bring a lunch.
    Jesus said , “Have the people sit down.” There was plenty of grass in that place , and the men sat down , about five thousand of them. Jesus then took the loaves , gave thanks , and distributed to those who were seated as much as they wanted. He did the same with the fish.
    Sophie breathed a huge sigh. He liked the lunch, or he wouldn’t be giving thanks for it. She took a few seconds to imagine Jesus holding the little rolls up toward heaven and saying, “God is great, God is good. Now we thank you for this food.” The smell of them wafted down to her nose. She was starting to get hungry.
    It was one of those all-you-can-eat things, Sophie thought. All Daddy could eat was enough for about three people. If there were five thousand like him, that was a lot of food. Sophie closed her eyes and saw it all, steaming loaves being passed to the ones in the back who thought they wouldn’t get even a crumb. Herself running up and down the rows, grass tickling her stuck-out toes as she handed out basket after basket of fish until everyone was groaning because they’d completely pigged out.
    Opening her eyes, she continued. When they had all had enough to eat , he said to his disciples , “Gather the pieces that are left over. Let nothing be wasted.” So they gathered them — with Sophie helping — and filled twelve baskets with the pieces of the five barley loaves left over by those who had eaten.
    Sophie closed the Bible on her lap, but she kept her eyes open. The story was as clear as if it had happened right down at Buckroe Beach, but she knew her forehead was wrinkled into about five thousand folds.
    What’s that got to do with Mama — or the Freedom 4 — or any other problem I have? she thought. I don’t get it.
    She wished Dr. Peter were there so he could explain it to her. With Fiona and Kitty expecting a plan tomorrow morning, she didn’t have time to wait two weeks for her next appointment. She ran her finger down the wrinkles in her forehead as she tried to imagine his voice, coaching her. All that came were the words he’d already said to her that afternoon.
    Pay attention to what the little kid does and what Jesus does with that.
    Sophie went back to her imagination. The little kid was her. What had she done?
    â€œI gave up my lunch,” she said out loud. “It wasn’t that much, but it was all Mama had packed for me. That must have been the Bible-days version of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”
    She dived back in. What had Jesus done with it?
    Du-uh , she thought. He fed , like , a bazillion people. He put his hands up with the bread and the fish in them and he gave thanks. And whammo — it was enough for a feast.
    Sophie gnawed at her hair. Was she supposed to take lunch for the Corn Flakes tomorrow? No, that couldn’t be it. What else had Dr. Peter said about God?
    What do you say we let him do his job and you do yours?
    â€œOkay, so I bring one sandwich and he makes it enough for the whole cafeteria. No — la-ame.”
    Sophie devoured several split ends before she gave up and went downstairs to take the twelve cookies and one glass of milk to Daddy. She was tempted to ask him what he would do, but she decided that wasn’t the best move. She wasn’t supposed to try to fix Mama, but she didn’t want to make her worse. If Mama found out there was trouble among the Corn