“It’s a box that lets you see the pieces of actual stars that blew up jillions of years ago,” Junie volunteered. “Once Nate and Naomi’s cloud chamber is all set up and we shine the light inside, you get to see the sparkles the star bits make when they travel around in the air.”

“We’re hoping to win first prize,” Nate said. “It should be amazing.”

“I suppose we all have our own definition of what is amazing, Nathan,” said Reverend Torvald. “To Mrs. Torvald and myself, what’s amazing is the light of the heavenly spirit of Jesus Christ, our Lord.”

“All Nate meant was, we’ve been working hard to do a good job, right, Nate?” said Naomi.

The thought came to Nate that watching the flash of light through the cloud chamber—like doing a geometry proof or watching a calf being born—would be, for him, as powerful an indication of a plan and order to the universe as what the Torvalds found in their Bible. “I find God in the night sky,” his dad had said one time. Nate did too.

He cut into his chicken. Inside, the meat had the same pasty gray look as it did on the outside. He moved his piece around the plate and reached for a slice of bread instead.

“One time when I was six, I went into my mom’s room and took her pin that had a diamond in it, and I brought it to school,” Junie said. She was still thinking about unforgivable sins, apparently. Maybe it was being in the presence of a minister that made her feel like confessing all of a sudden.

“I am sure you recognized your error and learned your lesson,” Mrs. Torvald said.

“It’s just that I always wanted a sparkly pin like that,” Junie said. “And there was this girl in my class who was always bragging about her locket. I wanted to show her.”

“I’m sure the Lord forgives you, June.”

“At least I brought it back, huh? The worst is if you keep it forever.”

“I’ll tell you two acts of man I believe the Lord considers beyond forgiveness,” Reverend Torvald said. “The first is the act of a woman taking the life of her unborn child. The second is a man choosing to take his God-given life by his own hand.”

“Like killing himself?” said Junie. “Or trying to?” She had peas on her fork, and it was halfway to her mouth.

“That’s right, June,” he told her. “Abortion and suicide. Anyone who commits such a crime will burn in hell for all eternity, a fate more terrible than you or I can comprehend. Pray to God we never find out.”

Nate studied his sister’s face as she sat there. She set her fork down, with the peas still on it. She looked as though a ghost had just walked through the room.