Excerpt 1: Survivors Guilt (Unpublished)

Prologue

I remember my first time seeing her, Almara. She was a shy, quiet presence, until she wasn't. We were young—not too young, but young. I don't remember the exact age. I do remember Olivia,  my best friend at the time and I, playing with the blocks we found in the toy chest at Sunday school. 

We were giggling and fighting about what to build and how to build it, and that's when a pretty-eyed new girl walked in with her arms crossed as if she were scared. Her eyes were normal, light brown with black specs. It was the glow in them that made them unique.  I could see her tapping her finger on her arm to the beat of the worship team that we could hear from the sanctuary in our small classroom. She walked past us, went and took a toy from the toy chest, and sat alone, fidgeting with it in a corner while reading her weird-looking Bible, it was thick, with a lot of pictures. Like a comic book. As the pastor's daughter, I should have introduced myself then, but I went back to building my castle with Olivia, forgetting she existed. 

“Alright kids, come here,” our teacher yelled while waving her hands. We sat around her, the pretty-eyed girl on the opposite side of me. 

“Did we all finish reading the book of Job last week?” The teacher asked. Everyone nodded, knowing they hadn’t. 

“I didn't understand it," I yelled out. That way, at least it seemed like I read and she could explain it to me so I could act like I understood. 

“What's not to understand?” The pretty-eyed girl said, and I immediately didn't know what to think of  her. 

"Well, would you like to explain it?” the teacher asked her. The girl's body seemed kind of nervous, but her face didn't; her face looked confident and reassuring. That’s when she looked at me, holding her bible, gripping its sides. 

“Sometimes you must be left with nothing to understand everything.”

 She then loosened her grip on her bible, opened it up, and handed it to me. It was beautiful— an action bible—that’s what it was; my parents had gotten one for me, but I never read it. Until now. 

The teacher was astounded at her answer, and I didn't have much information to contest it. I spent the next hour ignoring Olivia, which she didn't like, and reading the book of Job as fast as I could using the pretty-eyed, courageous, smart girl’s Bible. She was right, and that intrigued my desire to know God’s word right then and there.

After service, I ran through the chairs, dodging the tall adults and older teens, searching for that girl to return her bible. I found her with her parents, talking to mine. As I walked up, our folks smiled at each other, happy that the girl had made me a friend. I handed her the Bible and she smiled. I then mentally noted a pretty smile to her list of attributes.

“Did you finish the story?” she asked.

“Enough,” I told her, “Enough to know that you’re right.”

She then took my hand and dragged me farther from our parents. “Honestly, I don't know if I believe this stuff, but it’s cool," she said. 

“I believe it,” I told her. She laughed.

“Well, maybe you can help me believe too,” she said, She then held out her hand.

"Almara,” she said, I now call her “Mar”

"Kendria,” I told her, She loved to call me “Ken”

Almara and Kendria. Ken and Mar