Her mother’s words—“new meat”—were still echoing in her head. What had she meant by that? It had sounded so ugly. And if her mother was opposed to bringing back new members, why was she going on those mission trips, anyway? But Summer already knew the answer to that: the mission trips had been chosen for her mother. People were assigned to jobs based on their strengths, and it was their duty to serve the community with those strengths. Summer served here, leading the younger girls by example. And what type of example are you setting now? she thought, keeping her eyes trained on the guard shack. The carport looked different than the last time she was there: there were three SUVs this time, a shiny new RV—an Airbus—with a lightning bolt painted on the side and parked horizontally, taking up six spots, and a black convertible BMW that looked brand-spanking-new, as her daddy used to say. She walked alongside the RV, and when she got to the driver’s-side door, she tried the handle. It was open.