forgotten how beautiful his smile was. “Let me take you to dinner,” he suggested.
Sela’s good feelings fled. Reality hit her hard in the gut. She had to get home. She had a dead girl waiting for her. She replied, “I can’t. I’m tired. I’ve been working since this morning.”
Dean shrugged. “Even more reason for you to have dinner with me. You look like you haven’t eaten all week.”
She hadn’t. Her living nightmare had left her with a nonexistent appetite.
But seeing Dean again stirred a desire in her, a desire to free herself from the chain of Chloe Applegate’s cell phone. The boy in front of her represented all that was good and enjoyable in life. And, thinking back on the one night they shared together, she realized that she missed his company.
“So, do you accept?” Dean asked.
Sela smiled weakly. “Okay. Hop in.”
Dean gave her an awkward half-hug from the car window. On the way to the restaurant, he asked, “Do you want to hear something great?”
“I’m always in the mood to hear good news,” Sela replied.
Especially after this week
, she added silently.
“Well, you’re looking at the guy who made the highest score on the vertebrae histology exam. How do you like that?”
Sela glanced at him. “Vertebrae histology? What is that, like the history of spines?”
“The study of the spines by light and electron microscopy: the transverse process, the pedicle, the spinous process, stuff like that.”
“And I thought waitressing was hard.”
Dean looked over at her. “Is it?”
She shook her head. “No. It just sucks.” She stopped the Beetle at a traffic light where First Gate Church rested at the corner.
The church was small and white, the kind one would imagine perching on a country hillside. Church members stepped out of the wooden panel doors wearing their finest displays of autumn-colored dresses and suits. A card table stood at the church entrance with a sign taped on the front that read, FIRST GATE CHURCH ANNUAL BAKE SALE: PLEASE BUY FREELY, FOR THE LORD FREED YOU FROM SIN .
Sela inhaled sharply when she saw Harold Applegate at the front of the steps, shaking his congregation’s hands as they walked by. He wore a tie that pictured a big goofy clown with teeth as long as they were wide.
Seeing him reminded Sela of her ordeal. Of Chloe Applegate. The dead girl with the face and hair similar to hers. The girl who kept Sela awake all night with her tears and complaints. The girl who never let her sleep.
Dean broke through her train of thought. “Who has church at this time of day?” he asked.
“Southerners have church at this time of day,” she answered.
“And I thought Jews were fanatical.”
Sela watched as a young couple and their daughter walked out the doors. The girl looked to be the same age as Sela had been when her parents had died.
Sela, Sela, went quite mad…
A tear fell from Sela’s eyes but she quickly wiped it away before Dean could see.
A sudden bang on the door made both Sela and Dean jump. An old woman dressed all in pink—and who, because of her clothes and clown-like make-up, reminded Sela of Barbara Cartland—stood outside her car. Sela hesitantly rolled down the window.
The elderly woman’s smile exposed two rows of rotten brown teeth. “Chess pie?” she asked.
Sela did not understand. “What?”
The woman moved closer to the door, her decrepit head nearly inside the window. “Chess pie, banana bread, chocolate soufflé, peach cobbler? We got it all. Buy two dishes get one free. Praise the Lord.” She lifted her shoulders in glee and clapped with two ancient hands.
Sela shook her head. “No. No, thank you.” She looked at Dean. “Are you interested?”
Dean’s face was noticeably paler when he also shook his head. “Not for now,” he answered. “Thanks.”
Sela smiled at the woman as she rolled up the window. “Good God,” Dean muttered from the passenger seat. “She’s so old I bet she saw the Garden of
Sela’s good feelings fled. Reality hit her hard in the gut. She had to get home. She had a dead girl waiting for her. She replied, “I can’t. I’m tired. I’ve been working since this morning.”
Dean shrugged. “Even more reason for you to have dinner with me. You look like you haven’t eaten all week.”
She hadn’t. Her living nightmare had left her with a nonexistent appetite.
But seeing Dean again stirred a desire in her, a desire to free herself from the chain of Chloe Applegate’s cell phone. The boy in front of her represented all that was good and enjoyable in life. And, thinking back on the one night they shared together, she realized that she missed his company.
“So, do you accept?” Dean asked.
Sela smiled weakly. “Okay. Hop in.”
Dean gave her an awkward half-hug from the car window. On the way to the restaurant, he asked, “Do you want to hear something great?”
“I’m always in the mood to hear good news,” Sela replied.
Especially after this week
, she added silently.
“Well, you’re looking at the guy who made the highest score on the vertebrae histology exam. How do you like that?”
Sela glanced at him. “Vertebrae histology? What is that, like the history of spines?”
“The study of the spines by light and electron microscopy: the transverse process, the pedicle, the spinous process, stuff like that.”
“And I thought waitressing was hard.”
Dean looked over at her. “Is it?”
She shook her head. “No. It just sucks.” She stopped the Beetle at a traffic light where First Gate Church rested at the corner.
The church was small and white, the kind one would imagine perching on a country hillside. Church members stepped out of the wooden panel doors wearing their finest displays of autumn-colored dresses and suits. A card table stood at the church entrance with a sign taped on the front that read, FIRST GATE CHURCH ANNUAL BAKE SALE: PLEASE BUY FREELY, FOR THE LORD FREED YOU FROM SIN .
Sela inhaled sharply when she saw Harold Applegate at the front of the steps, shaking his congregation’s hands as they walked by. He wore a tie that pictured a big goofy clown with teeth as long as they were wide.
Seeing him reminded Sela of her ordeal. Of Chloe Applegate. The dead girl with the face and hair similar to hers. The girl who kept Sela awake all night with her tears and complaints. The girl who never let her sleep.
Dean broke through her train of thought. “Who has church at this time of day?” he asked.
“Southerners have church at this time of day,” she answered.
“And I thought Jews were fanatical.”
Sela watched as a young couple and their daughter walked out the doors. The girl looked to be the same age as Sela had been when her parents had died.
Sela, Sela, went quite mad…
A tear fell from Sela’s eyes but she quickly wiped it away before Dean could see.
A sudden bang on the door made both Sela and Dean jump. An old woman dressed all in pink—and who, because of her clothes and clown-like make-up, reminded Sela of Barbara Cartland—stood outside her car. Sela hesitantly rolled down the window.
The elderly woman’s smile exposed two rows of rotten brown teeth. “Chess pie?” she asked.
Sela did not understand. “What?”
The woman moved closer to the door, her decrepit head nearly inside the window. “Chess pie, banana bread, chocolate soufflé, peach cobbler? We got it all. Buy two dishes get one free. Praise the Lord.” She lifted her shoulders in glee and clapped with two ancient hands.
Sela shook her head. “No. No, thank you.” She looked at Dean. “Are you interested?”
Dean’s face was noticeably paler when he also shook his head. “Not for now,” he answered. “Thanks.”
Sela smiled at the woman as she rolled up the window. “Good God,” Dean muttered from the passenger seat. “She’s so old I bet she saw the Garden of
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