“We’re supposed to be reading from Psalms today, remember?” I said, watching as each of their faces fell with disappointment.
None of them argued. They knew it was futile. They had learned, as we all did, that obedience was necessary. Bastian stood there, watching them as they trudged to the logs and sat down, his mouth pinched.
I held the Bible in my hand. It felt uncomfortably heavy. Anne sat down beside Rosie, instructing the kids to bow their heads in prayer.
They were like tiny robots. Their movements emotionless and mechanical. They went through the required motions. They had been taught what to do and they did it. No questions. No arguments.
They were the best-behaved children. Most had learned the consequences for non-compliance.
They were so young to be so conditioned.
I felt slightly ill. There was a sour taste in my mouth and I wanted nothing more than to throw the holy book into the leaves.
“I haven’t seen you in a while,” he said to me quietly.
“Well, I’ve been around,” I retorted.
“You seemed mad at me the last time we spoke,” he went on. Why did he have to bring that up now? With all the children pretending not to watch us when they were supposed to be praying.
“I wasn’t mad,” I contested.
“You seemed mad,” he argued.
“Maybe you should stop presuming to know how I feel,” I bit out through clenched teeth.
“Maybe you should start admitting how you feel instead of suppressing it all the damn time,” he whispered harshly.
I opened my mouth to snap something back when Anne called my name.
“We should get started,” my friend said, her eyes widening slightly. She looked from me to Bastian, sensing the tension between us.
“I guess I should go then,” Bastian muttered, turning to leave, his eyes lingering on me. On the children with their downcast eyes.
Only little Rosie dared to peek through her blond curls. She watched Bastian forlornly as he turned to leave.
“You can stay if you want,” Anne spoke up, much to my chagrin. The kids all looked our way, their faces expectant.
Bastian frowned. “I don’t think Bible study is my thing.”
“Then you definitely shouldn’t stay,” I said with a sweet smile that didn’t fool him in the slightest.
He raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching as if he were trying not to laugh.
The Bible was like a brick in my hand. I looked from Bastian to the kids. I was expected to spend the next hour reading the scriptures. Ensuring that the children understood God’s message. To use it to reinforce the philosophies of The Gathering.
Why did that feel so daunting?
He met my eyes. “Or…” He let the word hang in the air before turning to Anne and the kids. “Perhaps, just for today, we can do something else?” he suggested, shrugging. As if it were perfectly reasonable.
In another world, it would be.
But not here. Not in this life.
“Pastor Carter tasked us with teaching them, Bastian. It’s our duty,” I told him, though surprisingly there was no bite in my tone. No admonishment.
I felt weary of the same old argument.
“Maybe Bastian’s right. Perhaps we can go without Bible study for one day,” Anne murmured, her eyes pleading. The kids didn’t dare look at me. Didn’t dare get their hopes up.
