the hayloft opens to the downstairs space. I don’t want anyone below to know that I’m here. It was enough having to deal with my parents, and besides, the notes and photo album have me spooked. What will they do if they find out that I’m up here watching them? I crouch down in the hay, and try not to cringe when my hand lands in one of the damper clumps. The boards that make up the floor of the loft are spaced unevenly, and there are sizable gaps between some. I lean down and peer through one. I can see Mr. Brown. He’s standing next to a television set on top of a black cart. I can see Brian, Will, Heather, Julie, and their parents too. Everyone has spread blankets across the barn floor. They’re sitting cross-legged in their coats. There isn’t any heat in here. I can see dozens of candles lit around the edges of the barn, sitting on top of old barrels and crates. Several camping lanterns hang from nails on some of the barn’s support beams. Their flames cast dancing shadows along the walls, silhouettes of the people below.
I move onto my belly and crawl closer to the front end of the loft. I have to breathe through my mouth. Something smells rotted—gamey. Maybe an animal’s died in the hay. I shake my head. I can’t think about that. If I do, I’ll start gagging.
It’s gone quiet. I freeze. Suddenly I’m sure that something creaked behind me, but when I finally get the nerve to look, there’s no one there.
“Until the Brethren return for us …,” Mr. Brown’s voice suddenly rings out, and I jump, scattering hay across the loft. I watch as some displaced dust and hay goes over the edge and spirals down onto the crowd below.
“We have to stay the course. We have to stay together. And we will not, under any circumstances, forget who we are,” Mr. Brown says.
Everyone answers him in unison, the way that they used to answer Pioneer. “We are Chosen.”
“Great trials are in our future. Pioneer says that the Brethren are testing us to see if we are worthy of their favor. We must not fail. Our convictions cannot be shaken! Our path must stay true.”
“Tell it to us straight, brother!” These words erupt out of someone’s mouth; I can’t see who’s speaking, but it feels like their words carry everyone’s agreement.
“I plan to, brother.” Mr. Brown looks out at the crowd, to whoever spoke. “Because I’m worried. And so is Pioneer. He told me as much today during our visit. He wants to know how we can be sure that we will not fall. Afterall, one of us already has. Lyla fell under the sway of the Outsiders, didn’t she?”
At the sound of my name, I accidentally suck in bits of hay and dust. A piece plasters itself to the back of my throat, making my eyes tear up and my lungs seize. I stuff my coat sleeve in my mouth to muffle the violent coughing fit that follows. There’s silence below. I’m not sure if it’s because of me or Mr. Brown’s questions.
Brian stands up. “She faltered because she’s weak, always has been. She doesn’t belong with us. We can stand up against whatever we need to now without her trying to steer us toward the Outsiders and their lies.”
Mr. Brown shakes his head. “No. She does belong with us. She’s been misled, sure, but Pioneer has seen in his visions that she can be saved. You know this. But maybe you need a reminder.” His voice goes sharp and even without him saying it out loud, I know he’s warning Brian not to argue. “Pioneer’s message for us tonight will set you straight. And if you have any questions remaining, you and I will set aside some time to talk.”
Brian’s anger falters a little and he blows out a breath. Mr. Brown stares him down. “
Sit down
, son.”
Someone sitting on the blanket behind Brian tugs on his hand, pulls him down to a sitting position. It’s the short-haired guy—the one with the military-type clothes who was driving the van. An Outsider at a Community meeting? Strange. I scan the crowd for more of
I move onto my belly and crawl closer to the front end of the loft. I have to breathe through my mouth. Something smells rotted—gamey. Maybe an animal’s died in the hay. I shake my head. I can’t think about that. If I do, I’ll start gagging.
It’s gone quiet. I freeze. Suddenly I’m sure that something creaked behind me, but when I finally get the nerve to look, there’s no one there.
“Until the Brethren return for us …,” Mr. Brown’s voice suddenly rings out, and I jump, scattering hay across the loft. I watch as some displaced dust and hay goes over the edge and spirals down onto the crowd below.
“We have to stay the course. We have to stay together. And we will not, under any circumstances, forget who we are,” Mr. Brown says.
Everyone answers him in unison, the way that they used to answer Pioneer. “We are Chosen.”
“Great trials are in our future. Pioneer says that the Brethren are testing us to see if we are worthy of their favor. We must not fail. Our convictions cannot be shaken! Our path must stay true.”
“Tell it to us straight, brother!” These words erupt out of someone’s mouth; I can’t see who’s speaking, but it feels like their words carry everyone’s agreement.
“I plan to, brother.” Mr. Brown looks out at the crowd, to whoever spoke. “Because I’m worried. And so is Pioneer. He told me as much today during our visit. He wants to know how we can be sure that we will not fall. Afterall, one of us already has. Lyla fell under the sway of the Outsiders, didn’t she?”
At the sound of my name, I accidentally suck in bits of hay and dust. A piece plasters itself to the back of my throat, making my eyes tear up and my lungs seize. I stuff my coat sleeve in my mouth to muffle the violent coughing fit that follows. There’s silence below. I’m not sure if it’s because of me or Mr. Brown’s questions.
Brian stands up. “She faltered because she’s weak, always has been. She doesn’t belong with us. We can stand up against whatever we need to now without her trying to steer us toward the Outsiders and their lies.”
Mr. Brown shakes his head. “No. She does belong with us. She’s been misled, sure, but Pioneer has seen in his visions that she can be saved. You know this. But maybe you need a reminder.” His voice goes sharp and even without him saying it out loud, I know he’s warning Brian not to argue. “Pioneer’s message for us tonight will set you straight. And if you have any questions remaining, you and I will set aside some time to talk.”
Brian’s anger falters a little and he blows out a breath. Mr. Brown stares him down. “
Sit down
, son.”
Someone sitting on the blanket behind Brian tugs on his hand, pulls him down to a sitting position. It’s the short-haired guy—the one with the military-type clothes who was driving the van. An Outsider at a Community meeting? Strange. I scan the crowd for more of
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