Lacy's End Read Online Free PDF Page B

to Alaska under the bleachers. “How far do we have to go?”
    She shrugged again. “Far enough to escape any chance of getting caught.”
    She found a spot and judging from the amount of stuff that he saw there, she did this often. There was a small table with a candle in the center, a vase of silk flowers, a Bible, and some chewing gum.
    “What is all this stuff for?” Jake asked.
    “It’s for forgiveness.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    She heaved a heavy sigh. “Look, Jake, you’re welcome to stay if you want, but you have to be quiet. I need to concentrate.”
    He sat back and watched as she took a box of matches from underneath the table and lit the candle. She put her hands together and began to pray. “Dear God, my Father in heaven…the only father who cares, hear my prayers this morning.” She said the rest of her prayer silently. At first, Jake thought she had stopped in midsentence, but as he looked closer, he could see her lips moving.
    When she finished the prayer, she picked up the Bible and began to read. She read a bunch of stuff that sounded like poetry. He sneaked a peek over her shoulder and saw she was reading from the book of Psalms. She sensed his presence and peered over her shoulder. Their faces were mere inches apart. He grinned. “Do you mind?” He pulled back.
    Finally, she shut the book and turned to look at him. “Okay, done.”
    “What were you doing?”
    “Praying.”
    “Praying for what?”
    She sighed. “Praying for patience and forgiveness.”
    He nodded, pleased. “So you believe in God.”
    She hesitated, bit her lower lip and gave a slight shake of her head. “I don’t know.”
    Jake cocked his head to one side. “What about the Bible reading and praying?” he asked.
    “What about it?” she asked.
    He gestured toward the Bible. “I just thought with all the reading you do…well, I thought for sure you’re a believer.”
    She stood and walked abruptly toward the edge of the bleachers. “Does it matter? Am I to believe in a god who lets fathers beat their daughters into submission?”
    “I guess that’s up to you.”
    She turned to look at him. They stared for several seconds, and she turned back, not wanting him to see her vulnerable side.
    “What are we going to do now?” he asked.
    “I’m going to gym class. I don’t know what you’re going to do.”
    She made her way back from the bleachers. When she got near the end, she stopped, looked around to make sure nobody was watching. Jake decided he liked this sneaking around stuff. It was fun. She saw the coast was clear and emerged into the bright sunlight.
    “Oh, no,” she said.
    “What’s wrong?”
    She pointed at a group of girls standing uniformly in line. “I’m late for gym class. Now I’ll have to stay after school.” She lowered her head, absently touched her injured eye, and mumbled, “Which means another confrontation with my father.”
    She broke out in a run. Maybe if she moved very fast, Mrs. Jackson wouldn’t notice how late she was. She tore into the gym, stripping as she ran, her shirt half off by the time she hit the door. She opened her locker in seconds flat, dressed in five, and headed for the field. The group was doing jumping jacks as she sidled into place.
    Mrs. Jackson, catching a glimpse of odd movement, turned her way just as she took her first jump, which was discordant with the rest of the class. “Miss Waldrip,” she said, coming to stand before her. “You’re late again.”
    “I’m sorry, Mrs. Jackson.”
    “Come here,” she said, calling Lacy out of line and leading her across the blacktop. She perused her face for a minute, tight-lipped. “What happened to you?”
    “I had an accident.”
    Mrs. Jackson crossed her arms, eyeing Lacy. “You sure have a lot of those accidents.”
    “Yeah, and I’m going to have another one if I get detention one more time.”
    Mrs. Jackson took a sharp intake of breath, trying to decide whether to pursue the incident.