Then something happened. On one of those Saturdays that Mr. Brown had to preach, we all piled into the Browns’ navy-blue car at five forty-five in the morning. There wasn’t one crackhead outside, no one selling drugs or candy; it was so early, the sun hadn’t even come up yet. By this time, I’d been in the church on several occasions, but never so early in the morning. You could still see some of the pinks and oranges lingering in the sky. I sat in the back seat in stiff church clothes that originally seemed like part of the punishment but I’d secretly grown to like. Both Precious and her mother had on too much of that perfume, and I worried that I might get another migraine. These loud scents were the same perfumes that I smelled the first time I got a migraine a few weeks before. I hadn’t felt anything weird since, but I feared that I’d see those white lights dancing again.

We got to the church in about seven minutes. Mr. Brown pulled out a bundle of keys, and something about this made me realize that church is just a building. It looked pretty dingy in the dusk of morning, kind of sad. The paint peeled in some places, and without the elders to greet you at the door or all the cars and people laughing and talking in the parking lot, the whole scene was almost scary.

The windows had stained glass art, but in the dark, they didn’t look so special. The maroon, navy, and mustard colors just looked like poor choices by whoever made the windows. Mr. Brown opened the huge front doors, and I twisted my lips and rolled my eyes. I wanted my peanut butter Cap’n Crunch and The Bugs Bunny and Tweety Show.

Inside, the Browns flipped on secret switches, and slowly the lights grew stronger. Then this old, grumpy man appeared seconds later, and started the air-conditioning. Watching them start up the church only proved my point: it was all a lie.

Mr. Brown dipped off to his study, and Mrs. Brown went to prepare for her Sabbath school class, then Precious grabbed my hand and pulled me up the stairs. She opened the doors to the sanctuary, and we walked in slow and respectfully. She headed down the center aisle, but I hung back and looked around in the almost dark, noticing that the ceilings were nearly as high as the fourth floor of our building. There were two columns of wide benches with at least thirty rows and a stage running the length of both sides. It was a lot to take in.