Vivian Apple Needs a Miracle by Coyle Katie

Author:Coyle, Katie [Coyle, Katie]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

I don’t have to explain to Harp the slight spring in my step as we return to the car; she takes one look at me when I drop to the pavement beside her and makes a face. “Oh, Viv. Don’t you know how to play hard to get?” But Harp can never stay too unhappy when I’m happy. Despite Peter’s messiah theory and the impossible mystery of the missing Raptured, we’re both a little giddy on the ride back to the Good Book. Harp scans the radio for something upbeat and secular, and we make do dancing away our frayed nerves to a poppy jingle for Church-brand toothpaste: “For a smile as white as the robes of Jesus!” I still feel the scratch of Peter’s bit of stubble around my mouth; I remember our kisses with a shudder of pleasure. For the first time in a long time, I realize as we park in front of the Good Book and try to compose ourselves, I feel young—sneaking out with my best friend, kissing cute boys. I feel like an actual teenager.

We slip in through the bookshop and climb up the stairs, thinking longingly of the beds waiting for us. I’m so buzzed on the night’s various surprises—We didn’t get caught! Peter’s on our side! We might have figured out the Church’s plan, and we’re going to try as hard as we can to stop them!—that I don’t notice until a split second too late that the knob of the second-floor door is turning.

Then it is open, and Diego stands there.

Harp gasps. My mind runs through a string of weak excuses—We heard a noise? We needed some air?—but my head goes blank when Diego steps aside and I see the rest of them behind him, waiting: Winnie by the kitchen, staring stonily at the floor; Amanda beckoning us in with a manic, false smile; and, worst of all, poor Robbie, slumped on the couch, red-eyed.

“Here you are!” Amanda’s voice is ice-cold. “See? Not to worry, Winnie. They were probably just taking a midnight joyride, like two average red-blooded American teens.”

“Where were you?” asks Winnie in a muffled voice, and I realize she’s been crying. “When Kimberly came to bed and you weren’t up there, we thought at first—”

“How long have you been doing this?” Diego sounds disgusted. “Robbie told us he gave you the keys a week ago, for a ‘secret’ mission I sure as hell know nothing about. What is the matter with you two? You made me swear to protect you.” He turns his dark-eyed glare on me; I have to look away. “We’re putting ourselves at risk, protecting you—this is how you repay us?”

I feel sick. I glance at Harp; she has a distant, slightly bored expression on her face. This is how she hides herself from hurt: she transforms herself into stone, makes herself impenetrable. But I feel like an open wound. I force myself to look at Robbie. Winnie’s distress would be bad enough, but

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