After Summer moved to Kids’ Camp her mother had worked different jobs around the compound for months before Taured began sending her on the four-to-eight-week trips. The missionaries stayed in motels, her mother told her, some really gross, but recently Taured had bought an RV, and they were going to use that instead. When she asked Lorraine if she liked going on the mission trips, she said yes, and then pressed her lips together so tight they’d turned white. They saw each other less and less, it seemed, but Summer was so busy she hardly had time to recognize it. She spotted Lorraine at a table, her tray already in front of her, and made her way over, still thinking of the way Taured was looking at Feena.

“Aren’t you going to eat?” Lorraine asked when Summer sat down without a tray. Summer studied her mother’s face for a moment, trying to understand what had changed, and then saw the tiny gold studs in her ears.

“You got your ears pierced?” Her tone was accusatory, she realized, but the women here were restricted from tattoos and piercings, especially a woman such as her mother, who was sent on mission trips.

Her mother shrugged, leaning her chin on her fist, and looked down at her soup and bread indifferently.

“Here,” she said, pushing the plate toward Summer. “Have mine.”

“I’m fasting,” Summer said quickly. She hid her hands under the table as to not be tempted by the food. She was trying not to look at it. When had she eaten last? It doesn’t matter, she thought. The longer you go, the more blessed you’ll be. Taured had said so himself.

“Why are you fasting? Did he make you fast?”

Summer drew back like she’d been slapped; she hated when her mother got like this.

“Why did you get your ears pierced?” she tried. If they were going to be asking questions, she had a few of her own.

Lorraine, who seemed to realize the trade of information her daughter was asking for, leaned back in her seat with a sigh. They were in the back corner of the room near the AC vents. No one liked to sit there because of the noise, but Summer suddenly realized her mother might have chosen the table for a reason. The area was often used for dry storage, the table stacked with overflow boxes of instant mashed potatoes and macaroni when the storage room was full. Today, it was empty.

“I guess I thought, why not? I’ve always wanted to.” Her mother tilted her head to the side, making her little earrings flash attractively. Summer felt disgust as thick as vomit fill her esophagus.

“But it’s against the rules.”

“Not mine.”