I tried not to be scared, but I was. Paige always talked about Goog’ooks, and one reason why I never stayed at Grammy’s house was because Paige said it was haunted, and when I told Mom that, she said the whole Island was haunted, that years and years and years ago our people used this place as a graveyard, that even late at night she heard Goog’ooks tapping on the walls. Mom told me not to be scared.

In the church we took our seats, and I thumbed through the Bible in front of me. Other than that, I didn’t pay attention to anything, just watched people here and there, some with their eyes closed, some open. I didn’t think Paige was listening either—her head was turned sideways, eyes half open, like the priest’s Word was putting her to sleep.

After we’d lined up to receive the body of Christ—which I wasn’t allowed to ingest and instead received a pat on the head from the priest because Mom hadn’t had me baptized—we returned to our seats. Paige nudged me. Grammy watched, hand on her chest, as Paige broke her cracker in half and gave it to me. It dissolved in my mouth, and it tasted like a chalky cracker that had gotten wet and had dried again.

Paige saw the disgust in my face, and she whispered, “It’s the best Jesus could do.”

“Jesus made this?” I said.

Paige had her arms crossed. “I know, right?”

Grammy told us to shut the heck up.

Church dragged on. When we had to kneel, we knelt; when we had to sing, we sang; when we had to pray, we prayed. Grammy probably prayed for God to forgive Paige, and Paige probably prayed for a cigarette. Me, I prayed for the safe return of my alien figure in his red space suit. I still felt bad that he was all alone under those steps, buried in the cold mud, and I prayed that the change in seasons would churn him out to the surface, and I’d find him one day.

Toward the end of the service, we knelt one last time, saying one more prayer, but I didn’t pray for anything because I couldn’t focus: I smelled a stinky pigadee, a fart. I had my eyes cracked open, looking, and I felt Paige looking too. We made eye contact, and she leaned toward me.

“David,” she whispered, and she pointed at the upholstered cushioned wood we knelt on. “You ever wonder why they call this a pew?”

I puckered my lips, felt my face getting hot. I bit my tongue, using the pain to distract me from laughing. Grammy was looking at us, shaking her head, and it looked like she, too, was trying not to laugh, and when Paige saw Grammy’s face, Paige let out a little croak of laughter, loud enough for the priest to hear, loud enough to turn heads, loud enough for the person who ripped one to know they were caught.