The Chosen One - Carol Lynch Williams Page 0,19

Temple with the Eye watching me, it is a grand building in the light of the afternoon. As I pass through the gates, I see three men in dark suits, even in this heat, sunglasses on as they step from the darkness of the Temple into the afternoon. The God Squad. They’re here to protect. The Prophet. Us. The grounds. But seeing them, I’m struck with fear.

“Joshua,” I say. I want to run, but I make myself walk in through the gates and on toward home. Like I always do. Amazing Gracie sweaty against my belly.

This isn’t the first time that the God Squad has seen me coming home. Brother Simmons used to greet me when I was little and sometimes gave me a red licorice when I came back.

He’s been gone a long time.

When Mother Sarah was young, there was no problem moving around outside our community. But in the last few years, with a Day of Cleansing that happens every few months, things are different.

I’ve always walked like this, since I was little, with others walking with me, until a few years ago when I walked alone.

But now.

Now it’s dangerous for people to notice.

Joshua has seen me walking toward Patrick and the Ironton County Mobile Library on Wheels, even if he doesn’t know that’s where I’ve gone. He’s told me he’s watched me walking for years.

Does that mean other people have seen, too?

Have they seen me go?

I’ve been leaving the Compound forever, since I could almost walk.

With Mother Sarah and Father first.

With Emily.

Then with Laura.

Then alone.

Walking past the fence.

Walking down the red dirt road. A washboard road.

Walking to nowhere, then turning around and coming back.

Are they so used to me walking the distance,

outside our fences,

where somehow the air smells different,

are they so used to my walking

that they don’t notice anything more?

My heart thumps as I walk past the God Squad. Brother Adamson nods at me, then turns away. I let out a slow breath of air. Squinch my eyes at the light. Walk when I want to run. First to my tree to hide my book in the leafy branches. And then home.

Where my father waits for me.

II

As soon as I see his face, as soon as I see Mother’s face, I know that Father’s request has been denied. They sit together on the sofa. None of my sisters are near. They must be at another Mother’s house.

I fall on my knees at Father’s feet. “I can’t do it,” I say. “Father, I can’t.”

He says nothing, just places his hands on my head. He smooths my hair. I hear my mother begin to cry.

And just like that, there’s a knock at the door.

“Please don’t make me.” I crawl up on the sofa next to him. He wraps his arms around my shoulders. Kisses my forehead. Mother answers the door.

It’s Uncle Hyrum. He is dressed in blue jeans and a long-sleeve shirt. The shirt is buttoned all the way to the top. “Two things,” he says before any of us says a word, holding up his fingers to prove it. “I’m here for two things.”

I think I’ve stopped breathing, but I listen.

“Number one. Sister Kyra. I would like to have you over to dinner. A date so we can get to know each other better. Tomorrow evening.”

He doesn’t even wait for me to answer.

A date?

“And number two, where is the baby from last night?”

Father stands now, loosening his arm from around my shoulders.

“Mariah?” Father says.

“Screaming like that,” Uncle Hyrum says. “And in front of the Prophet. It was too much, Richard. Too much.”

“She’s not even a year old,” Mother Sarah says.

Uncle Hyrum looks at my mother like he could slap her. “Don’t speak, Sister Sarah, unless I’ve spoken to you first.”

Mother says nothing. Looks away from my uncle.

“Get the baby, Sister Kyra. And her mother. You may leave, Sister Sarah.”

“Why?” I say.

He doesn’t answer me, but Father says, “Go.”

And I go.

Mother Claire, mean as she can be, turns white when I tell her Uncle Hyrum wants Mariah. And her.

“Oh no,” she says. “Oh no.”

Mariah is asleep on a blanket in the corner, a small fan turned on her.

“She wouldn’t stop screaming after you left last night,” Mother Sarah says. She bends over, her big belly in her way, and lifts Mariah. “Come here, baby,” she says, her voice gentle.

“What do you mean?” I say.

“I just couldn’t calm her,” Mother Claire says. Her face has gone red now. “No one could. She wanted you.”

We leave Mother Claire’s trailer. I wish