She stops and swings around to face me. “How do you know about her? I thought you weren’t from around here?”

I keep my answer vague. “One of the women inside was talking about what happened.” I pause. “That explains why you’re so sad.”

“I’m not sad,” she snaps.

“You were friends.”

“Yeah, well, she’s gone so it doesn’t matter, does it?”

We continue toward the barn, but stop when we reach the concrete walkway where the roof extends out. “Do you know what happened to her?” I ask.

“No one does,” she mutters.

“Did those boys know her?”

“Everyone knows everyone around here. In case you haven’t noticed, Roaring Springs is a small town.”

“She was too young to die.” Noticing dried grass on the sleeve of her coat, I brush it off. “And you’re too young to be so sad.”

“Yeah, well, no one cares what you think.”

I nod toward the woods where the boys are. “Look, you don’t know me, but … I have a niece your age. If you ever get into trouble or need help, you can come to me. I’m staying at the Bowman trailer. Do you know where that is?”

“I don’t need help from you or anyone else.” Casting me a disdainful look, she walks away.

“You’re wrong about one thing,” I say to her back.

She keeps walking.

“It matters,” I call out.

She doesn’t look back.

Chapter 11

CHAPTER 11

One of the unwritten rules of Amish etiquette is that you don’t leave directly after the post-service meal. Sunday is the only day set aside for rest, and most take full advantage of the opportunity to visit with their neighbors and friends. By the time the Gingeriches drop me off at the trailer, it’s nearly four P.M.

I’ve put in some long days in the course of my career; I’ve pulled all-nighters and worked around the clock more times than I can recall. I don’t ever remember being as mentally exhausted as I am today. I’ve been “on” since this morning, unable to let down my guard even for a moment. Pretending to be someone you’re not and trying to keep all the lies straight is taxing, to say the least.

On the bright side, it was time well spent. Though I didn’t learn anything earth-shattering, I met dozens of people and came one step closer to establishing my place in the community.

The incident with Marie Weaver and the three boys niggled at the back of my brain all afternoon. It’s true that some Amish teens fall prey to the same bad behaviors as their “English” counterparts; they’re human, and as fallible as anyone else. But generally speaking, the vast majority are well behaved and respectful, especially when their elders are around.