Part II
She jumped as the door of the hall suddenly swung open. Her English teacher in his customary suspenders and grey mustache smiled when he saw her and beckoned to her. He had been the most tolerant of her and Addy of all the elders of Breton. She quickly mounted the steps, and met him at the doorway. Light poured from behind him and she could hear people talking inside.
“C’mon in,” he said, “We were just about to send someone for you.”
He stepped forward, and held the door so she could pass in front of him. Everything in the great assembly hall was made of maple wood, from the walls to the floor to the pews, so that with the double rows of chandeliers, the hall was as bright as daylight even long after dark, as it was now. Not that much daylight ever reached that room as there were no windows. Reilly had to stop and blink a few times as she entered. Once her eyes adjusted, her breath caught. All sixteen elders were seated in their black robes at the far end of the hall, presiding regally over those talking excitedly or sitting quietly in their respective pews. Breton had a population of 138, and at least a third of them were gathered now. The more adolescent third from what Reilly could see. She moved to her left so she could grab a seat at the back, but Mr. Thomasson tapped her on the shoulder.
“Follow me,” he said, smiling encouragingly. She returned his smile. He turned and proceeded down the center aisle, his thumbs resting behind either of his suspenders. She followed a couple steps back, eyes on the ground. She felt goosebumps appearing on her arms under her yellow hoodie, and shivered although it was an uncommonly warm night for November. She told herself she had no reason to be afraid; Mr. Thomasson respected her, and wouldn’t lead her into some kind of trap. She glanced up at the other elders. They didn’t look angry and she saw her mother smile at her. They probably just wanted her to sit up front so she would be closer to their words of wisdom and less likely to zone out, though she rarely did that during a congregation. Surely far less than most of those her age did.
They reached the foremost pew. Mr. Thomasson kept going up onto the stage. Reilly stopped, and looked to her left. He couldn’t have meant for her to follow him up there could he? She met the eyes of Mr. Borgman the secretary. He smiled too, and motioned her forward. She pulled her sleeves down further, and clasped the end of the fabric in her fists. She made her way up the steps. They don’t look at all angry, she reminded herself. Except for Sheriff Lane, but he always looks angry. She laughed shakily in her mind, but it didn’t quell the dread that spread through her.
Mr. Thomasson stood behind the pulpit, his hands braced on its sides She turned around next to it, and faced the crowd. Her eyes glanced around not making eye contact with anyone. Mrs. Smither had risen to whisper something to Mr. Thomasson before he began. Reilly’s eyes fell on Addison’s. She stared back at her, her face stoic, her mouth set. Reilly jerked her eyes to the floor before she could read the feeling in her face. Mr. Thomasson smacked the pulpit lightly three times with his right hand and the room fell dead quiet. Reilly locked her gaze on the doors of the great hall, so she couldn’t see the faces of those before her.
“We, the elect of tonight, are gathered together for a celebration,” Mr. Thomasson began, his whole torso bent into propelling his words over the pulpit. “A celebration of a resurrection, a moving forward, a great progression. The greatest resurrection is that of faith in the human soul and only through faith can we receive redemption.” He paused and everyone said amen. Reilly’s back arched, readying for a blow. “Redemption from self-deception. From the lie that we are alone; that we are individual; that we are more than flesh and blood. For we are one blood; one blood flowing in one direction, from one family, in one community.” His words were bullets, wounding every heart who heard them. He raised one hand. “However, in order for us to become united into one flow some of us must become leaders, examples for other to follow toward the source, to the heart of the matter. Tonight we are here to witness the resurrection, the moving forward, the great progression of such a leader.” He laid his hand on Reilly’s shoulder. She looked up at him, not believing what she was hearing.
Two weeks ago her history teacher had rebuked her in front of the whole class for asking a question about the White Witch Coventina, who made the son of a woman go blind who had accidently brushed against the tip of her wand in a busy marketplace. The teacher had said she was justified, but Reilly though it a cruel and unjust punishment. Ever since then she had been constantly chastised for things they had overlooked previously. Yesterday she had been made to stand in front of the whole lunchroom to be censured for wearing a skirt that went three inches above the knee instead of two. She had worn that skirt a dozen different times before and no one had said anything. And now they were praising her. She couldn’t believe it. Mr. Thomasson turned and looked her in the eyes. He continued:
“But resurrection is not easy, not without loss. For first, you must die.” She blinked. He was still smiling, his hand still resting easily on her shoulder. She heard quiet steps coming up on her other side from behind.
“Mom.” She was starting to shake, and her eyes were getting watery.
“I love you, Reilly,” her mom said. She grabbed Reilly’s arm, and shoved a needle under her skin.
“Mom!” Dizziness hit her like a juggernaut, and she tottered, but felt strong arms holding her up. Her vision was blurry from the water in her eyes and something else. She felt herself being lowered to the ground, and then she knew no more.
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