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The next day everyone’s talking about who did what with who and how much this person drank over that person and whether anyone was smoking weed or hookahs.” She shook her head. “Stupid parties.”
    “They’re still smoking hookahs?”
    “Oh yeah. Everyone’s into it.”
    Jenny wasn’t really surprised. Every generation had their form of rebellion, and Bailey’s was no different. Hookahs—water-filled pipes used to smoke flavored tobacco—were often passed around at parties.
    “You know what I hate?” Bailey took the lid off her hot chocolate and smelled it.
    A lot, Jenny wanted to say. Bailey was very opinionated on the decisions her classmates made, which was a good thing. Jenny didn’t worry for a minute that Bailey wanted to go to one of the parties her friends attended, let alone drink or smoke. But sometimes Bailey’s attitude bordered on a critical spirit. She studied her daughter, the tension in her posture and the way her brow was knit. “What do you hate?”
    “I hate when everyone blames drinking.” She tossed one hand in the air and let it fall back to her lap. “Like getting drunk is some sort of license to do whatever you want.”
    “Kids your age drink so they’ll have a reason for what they do.”
    “Exactly. It makes me so mad.” Bailey’s voice grew thick, and there was no hiding the way she was suddenly fighting tears. “These are my friends, Mom. Three years ago the worst thing anyone did was cheat on a test. Now everyone’s changed. I have maybe a handful of friends who haven’t slept with their boyfriends or gotten drunk at a party.” She hung her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. After a long time she looked up again. “At least I have CKT.”
    Jenny thought about her husband and how earlier this football season he’d been tempted to move the family across the country for an NFL coaching position. He had coached for years and retired to give the kids stability. But he was getting the itch again. One of the reasons he’d agreed to stay another year was because of the Christian Kids Theater group. A drama club like theirs was available in only a handful of states. If they moved, Bailey and Connor would lose their friends and a place where they could explore theater in an environment that made faith and family priorities.
    She had prayed several times since then that they might stay in Bloomington, Indiana, another five years—so Connor could finish high school with the benefit of CKT in his life. Jim wanted that too. But coaching at Clear Creek High was no longer the challenge it had been at first.
    Jenny had agreed that if Jim felt God leading them away from Bloomington, she would leave without looking back. For now, though, she could only agree with Bailey. Her daughter’s involvement in CKT was often the rainbow across an otherwise stormy sky. The kids weren’t perfect. Gossip and criticism sometimes reared their heads among the group. But a Christian theater program simply didn’t attract kids who partied or lived on the wild side.
    “You think Katy will keep doing CKT? Even after she’s married?” Bailey finished her hot chocolate and tossed her empty cup in the trash.
    “It depends.” Jenny met Bailey’s eyes. “Marriage changes things. I guess we’ll have to see.”
    She was about to ask Bailey how Cody had been acting around her the week before Thanksgiving when Jim returned.
    He looked five years older than he had that morning. The fine lines around his eyes were deeper, his face haggard and drawn. He shook his head. “Nothing’s changed.”
    Being a coach’s wife always had its highs and lows. But being married to a high school coach meant emotional drama Jenny had never experienced before. During Jim’s first year coaching football at Clear Creek High, a third-string running back had locked his bedroom door and shot himself with his father’s gun. The kid was a loner, a guy most of the players didn’t know well. Even so, his death stunned