Say something, Del! “What are you? I mean your costume. I been trying to figure it out all night.”

“Dorothy. From The Wiz. The new version. Mama showed me the old one a long time ago, but we DVR’d the new one, and I liked it better.”

The answer stunned me. Kindergarten was my first time seeing her as Dorothy; it was the moment I felt our bond cement. This had to be a sign, right? God was trying to tell me something!

“You look great,” I said, meaning it and regretting it at the same time. Was it corny?

“Thank you.”

There was a lull, and I felt weird about pushing it, so I got back to sorting prizes.

Then she said, “What are you?”

“Oh. Um, a preacher.”

She sucked her teeth. “What are you really?”

I lowered my voice. “Agent J from Men in Black.”

Her smile lit with recognition. “I looove that movie. Me and my brother used to watch it all the time when we were little. He thought the aliens would scare me, but they didn’t. I thought the one that looked like a pug was cute.”

“How is your brother?”

“Stationed in Guam and loving it.”

Bring it back, Del. Keep the conversation here and now. “Do you like science fiction movies? Other than Men in Black, I mean?”

A shrug. “They’re fine. I mostly watched them with Wes.”

Now, Del. Say it! Maybe we can watch one sometime. Or talk about Purity Pledge over a pizza.

I cleared my throat. “Kiera, maybe—”

“Excuse me, young man,” Pastor Newsome interrupted.

No!

He stood at the top of the church steps, the same approximate height of the pulpit. Looking down on us. “Might I have a word?”

It sounded like a request, something optional. Then, he descended the stairs, grasped my shoulder, and adjusted my clip-on tie. “We can talk in my office.”

He climbed the steps, made it to the third one when he stopped and stared at me.

A child dressed in a blue-gold Stephen Curry warm-up padded to the table and tossed a disorderly ticket bundle in Kiera’s general direction. “What can I buy?”

Her gaze shifted between him and me.

“You okay?” I hoped she’d give me a reason to stay.

“I’m fine. See you later.”

Trailing Newsome, I entered the sanctuary, where most pews had been pushed along the walls, clearing space for the gaming floor. One had been dragged back out, evident by its canted angle. The Burton boys were on it, their baseball uniforms visible between a circle of parishioners still praying for Bobby’s health. The way Ralph looked, he might’ve fired a flare gun to signal a rescue, if he could. Sorry, guys.

Newsome paid the prayer circle no mind. We took the corridor past the Purity Pledge classroom, toward his office. The air got thick with a spicy incense that made my head swimmy. He entered the open door at the very end of the hall, breaking through a thin streamer of white smoke.