* * *

By the time Sero joined the group in the dining room, Micah was speaking, holding a wineglass in the air.

“There are those who are threatened by what we represent,” he said as she entered. “We must fortify ourselves. Tomorrow night, there will be a new moon—it won’t be visible in the night sky, but it is a new beginning, and I propose a celebration at the Sanctuary. A bacchanalia. A ceremony of rebirth and recommitment. We will pledge ourselves to one another, and to our vision of the Sanctuary. Let us all wear white, the color of purity. We’ll enjoy a tremendous feast, music and swimming under the stars. I will share an exciting new initiative that will change everything we do at the Sanctuary.” He smiled over at Sero. “And each of the rest of us will present an offering to our family here at the Sanctuary—words of what this place means to you, food you have prepared, music from your heart. It will be . . .” He cast his glance skyward for the right word. “A Renaissance.” A broad smile spread across his face. “We will recommit to one another and look to the future.”

How badly Sero wanted to believe him, to fall into the vision of comfort and love he presented.

“Are you with me?” Micah asked softly, and someone in the group murmured. “Are you with me?” he said, louder, and several voices assented. “Are you with me?” Micah’s voice rose, had risen, turning his question into more of an exclamation, and as the group shouted, “Yes!” Sero found herself joining in.

* * *

Later that night, upstairs in the theater room, Cerise and Daphne were preoccupied, planning their contribution to the Renaissance. Serotina pulled her journal from the top drawer of the dresser, flipped to the back and pulled out the page torn from the calendar in her room years ago. The grainy image of Prem, with his missing front teeth and ice-pop blue tongue, made her smile. He would look nothing like that now, of course. She tried to see him as he would be today at fourteen: as tall as her, with oversized man feet, and a thick swath of hair falling into those thickly-lashed eyes that the girls would love. Touching his nose, she refolded the picture and slid it under her pillow.

46 | Serotina

May 18, 2015

The next day, everyone was in heightened spirits as they prepared for the evening’s festivities. Ericka and Zoe offered to do a load of laundry with bleach to ensure that everyone would have enough white clothes. The spirit of celebration reminded Serotina of her Thanksgiving visit, when she had felt swept up by the collective energy. She collected eggs from the coop and harvested some vegetables, then helped Ericka roll out pastry for an apple pie. Along with everyone else in the house, who had showered at staggered intervals so they could all have hot water, she dressed in white clothes—a pair of skinny jeans and a long-sleeve T-shirt. She took the folded calendar page from under her pillow and tucked it into her back pocket, wanting Prem close by.