It’s a strange thing to ask, considering I’m as put-together as always and even look especially glowy today. But I nod and smile politely anyway, the way Mother taught us to.
“Yes, sir, I’m fine. How are you?”
The man’s hands are shaking around the basketball in his hands, and I pretend not to notice.
“Fine. I’m fine. My name is Reverend Clark,” he tells me.
“Alright,” I draw hesitantly. “I’m Atticus Chastain. It’s nice to meet you.”
I attempt to give him a polite nod and move on, but he’s kind of standing right where I need to be and not moving an inch.
“Have you… are you going to church, young man?” he asks.
Oh, I get it. He’s recruiting.
“Yes. But we have a private facility, so I’m not interested in converting.”
“I’m not… that isn’t my intention,” the reverend mutters. “But if you have time today, you should have a nice chat with Jesus. He’s always here for you, even if you’ve gotten yourself mixed up.”
With that, he gives me a clipped smile and walks away in a hurry, leaving a wide berth between us.
There’s no way he could sense it on me, right? The deal I made with that demon, the one that cost me a decade of my life? Surely not. Priests are prophets of God, not psychics.
And even psychics are phony.
With a resigned sigh, I look at my options for a pull-up bar. The reverend’s words circle my mind, and so does the reminder that I haven’t spoken to God or gone to church since that night. I’m too startled to see what could happen to me.
“Young Master Atticus?”
The voice draws me from my inner turmoil and from browsing the minimal selection this store has.
It’s Barfred, our cook, and Landon, Julian’s best friend. So I was right.
Landon is standing at his side, arms crossed in a fleece jacket that fits him like a glove. His green eyes are observing me so fiercely that I can practically feel the assault on my soul.
But Barfred is staring at me in confusion, as if he can’t believe I’m here. Andthatis the first thing that makes sense since I walked into this store.
“Hello, Barfred,” I greet. “What are you doing here?”
I leave out thewith himI was originally planning to add, mostly because Landon seems like the kind of guy to snap back or take it the wrong way.
“Shopping for a frisbee. What areyoudoing here? If you needed something, I’m sure Hannah would have gotten it for you,” Barfred says, and he looks so confused it’s kind of funny.
“I like to get out of the estate sometimes,” I confess, though it’s partially a lie. I wasn’t going stir crazy due to the location I was in; it had more to do with not having anything to occupy my brain.
“Oh,” he mutters. Then, out of nowhere, his eyes narrow. “What’s going on with you? Are you alright?”
What iswitheveryone today? Outwardly, I look fantastic, so unless I’m wearingheartbroken foolon my forehead, there is absolutely no reason for my brother, our cook, and a priest to be on my case.
Jesus, that sounds like a horrible punchline to a joke.Your brother, your cook, and a priest walk into a bar…
“I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
“You look… different,” Barfred explains, his eyes trailing over my body before returning to meet mine. “You look unlike yourself.”
“I feel fine,” I counter.
Landon stands up taller—though it looks kind of adorable next to the towering height of Barfred—and narrows his eyes.
