Rusty looked at him and waited.

aItas a source of nuclear power,a Otis said, and then he explained it to her using a metaphor head read somewhere: a breeder reactor is a power source that never needs new fuel once successfully up and running. Imagine you have a car and begin a long drive. When you start, you have half a tank of gas. When you return home, instead of being nearly empty, your gas tank is full. A breeder reactor is like this magic car. A breeder reactor not only generates electricity but also produces new fuel. There was no way he could possibly a.s.semble the thirty pounds of uranium needed to make a true breeder reactor, he explained to Rusty, but he figured he could make a smaller one, a model, the size of a s...o...b..x, that would perform like the real one.

aBut why?a Rusty asked him, and she seemed genuinely interested, but head been fooled before. aWhy do you want to make one?a Otis told her how his granddad, after head moved in with them, gave him a book called Atoms to Electricity that was about nuclear power. In the book was a detailed diagram of a breeder reactor. Once he saw that drawing, almost a blueprint, he was hooked. Otis had never doubted that he had the persistence and focus and intelligence to make a reactor. Aspergeras was good for something. And the fact that n.o.body had successfully made a safe one yet spurred him on. aTeams of scientists had been experimenting with breeder reactors under top-secret circ.u.mstances in well-equipped labs,a he told Rusty, abut the governmenta"well, Jimmy Cartera"outlawed them in 1977 because one of the by-products is plutonium, which is used in nuclear bombs. So no one is officially making them anymore. But Iam going to show everyone that I can make one at home, using everyday stuff I put together on my own. Iave already made the neutron gun. Radium is the most effective fuel for the gun. The best source of radium is old clocks, clocks made in the twenties and thirties. Last week I found three in an antique mall out on I-10. I got five total, but thatas not nearly enough.a Rusty was playing with something hanging from a cord around her neck, a multicolored drawstring bag like the medicine bags worn by Native Americans. aIn other words,a she said, ayouare going to blow us all to kingdom come.a aNo,a Otis began, but Jabba interrupted him, calling from the next room in her piercing voice.

aRustifer! What you doing in there?a aGoing wee wee on the furniture, Granny!a aCome help me sort these clothes!a Jabba yelled.

aHold on a minute,a Rusty yelled back. She unfolded herself from the old yellow chaira"it did look like shead gone wee wee on ita"and stood up, a graceful fairy creature from the dark side, and beckoned to Otis. aThereas a big ugly clock over here somewhere,a she said, leading the way to the back of the room, winding between tables and chairs. In a dim corner, on a little kidas dresser sh.e.l.lacked with frolicking lambs, there sat a couple of sparkling pink ceramic lamps with no shades anda"a clock.

Otis switched his Geiger counter on and held it up to the face of the clock like a match to a flame. The needle on the dial shot up and the little red light started blinking like crazy. aShazam,a he said.

aIndeed,a Rusty said. aThatas one hot clock.a aHow much is it?a he asked Rusty.

Rusty bent over and fished around for a tag. aSeventy-five bucks. A steal, right?a Otis stared at the clock, a big fat plastic thing with a black face and green hands. The hands had been painted with radium, but there wasnat enough radium on the hands to make the Geiger counter go nuts like this. What was the source? There must be more inside the clock. He felt his heart tripping along as fast as the light on his Geiger counter was blinking. aI only have thirty bucks,a he told Rusty.

aWe offer layaway,a she said.

aI need it now.a aWell, she wonat go down that much.a Rusty shook her head. Then she said in a low growly voice, aJust take it. Iall show you where the back door is.a aSteal it?a Otis had never stolen anything in his life.

aBeatrice!a Jabbaas voice sounded far off. aRoyce just pulled up! You arenat leaving until you help me sort these clothes!a Rusty bent toward Otis, her medicine bag brushing his arm, and breathed her cigarette breath on him. aYouall be doing us a favor, right, getting this nasty thing out of here. And you need it to save mankind, right?a Rusty picked up the clock and thrust it into Otisas arms, grinning at him.

Suddenly Otis had a mental picture of Rusty from third grade, long before she went goth, standing at the front of their cla.s.sroom, grinning in just this way, wearing an Atlanta Braves shirt, her hair in two ponytails sprouting out above her ears, holding up a baseball shead caught at their spring training camp in Lake Buena Vista. Otis had been so jealous.

aHe who hesitates is lost,a the older, scary Rusty hissed at him.

There was no question that this clock should be his. It had a nice weight in his arms, the same weight as his mini poodle, Parson Brown, his boon companion. aYou wonat tell anyone, right?a he asked Rusty. aAbout anything. What Iam making. You know.a Rusty scrunched her eyebrows, thin black lines that looked like theyad been plucked and darkened. aNever!a It was too dark back here for Otis to read Rustyas expression, but he knew he wouldnat have been able to read it even in the bright sunlight. aDo you still have that baseball? From spring training?a Otis asked her, but Rusty was already shoving him toward the back door.

It was the next afternoon, Sunday afternoon, before Otis could get free of the rest of thema"free of ch.o.r.es and homework and anything else his mother could find for him to doa"and escape to his shed. Once inside he locked the door, propped open the windows, switched on the fan, and sat down on his stool with his stolen clock in front of him on the table. He would have to work as fast as he could, now that head broken the law and could be arrested at any minute. If she missed the clock, Jabba could find out who he was and where he lived easily enough. It was exciting, being a lawbreaker, handling stolen property. He might have to break a few more laws before it was all over, but he was sure that head be pardoned once it came to light what head accomplished.

Otis loved his shed. It was hot in the summer and cold in the winter, always stank of burned something and was full of insects; but it was his very own uncomfortable, stinky, buggy place. And even though it was full of dangerous, unstable chemicals, it was the only place he felt truly safe and at home. His mother said that people with Aspergeras often did not get irony, but in this case, the irony was not lost, even on him.

Back when head first decided to embark on his quest to make a model breeder reactor, head spruced up the shed in preparation, giving it a coat of white paint inside and out, hanging a poster of the periodic table on the wall, arranging an old green carpet head found in somebodyas trash on the floor. Head taken the old dehumidifier from the bas.e.m.e.nt and plugged it and a desk lamp and fan in with extension cords. Along the wall were two sets of metal shelves lined with jars and vials of ingredients head collected or created to make his breeder reactor. Books his grandfather had given him were propped on one shelf: Atoms to Electricity and Nuclear Power, Friend or Foe? alongside a framed black-and-white photograph of his much younger grandfather, in a white lab coat, at the University of Iowa. Another shelf held Otisas logbook and a notebook and drawings head made, plans. He loved that word. Plans. It made him want to rub his hands together and cackle.

And he loved all his tools and equipment, no matter how humble others might find them to be. From a nail in the corner hung a paper mask and rubber gloves and a cracked lead-lined suit, one head pilfered a while back from the chemistry lab at schoola"he wouldnat really call that stealing, since theyad been about to throw it away. On the table, beside the stolen clock, sat a blowtorch and a frying pan and a Bunsen burner. Also on the table lay his most prized possessiona"his neutron gun. Head fashioned it from a block of lead with a hollowed-out center in which he would place a chunk of fuel.

Stored in the corner were boxes of defective smoke detectors head bought at a discount from First Alert, so that he could remove the americium chips and weld them, with a blowtorch, into a big ball. Originally head planned to use americium as fuel, because it was easier to find. Granddad had been the one to suggest smoke detectors as a source for americium. He always answered Otisas questions and gave him practical suggestions to what he thought were hypothetical questions about how to obtain ingredients for a breeder reactor, without having any idea that Otis was actually following his advice. Of course, the fact that the old man had dementia helped along these lines, but it seemed that dementia was also making his grandfather act flakey.

What was the deal with his grandfather getting locked in his shed? Had the old woman really pushed him in, or had something else happened? Had Granddad and the old woman been snooping around together? How had they found the key where head hidden it in the crook of a tulip tree? Otis never allowed anyone into his shed. Had his grandfather forgotten that the shed was off limits? This was another reason that he needed to hurry and finish his reactor. Before too long his grandfather would be completely gone, either mentally or physically or both. Otis wanted to surprise him with the completed reactora"surprise and impress him and make him proud. He wanted to be just like his grandfather when he grew up, only smarter and richer and more famous.

Atomic energy was Otisas pa.s.sion, had been ever since Granddad had sent him some old nuclear energy textbooks that spoke in glowing terms about the future of nuclear science, about ma.s.sive power and thrilling discoveries. His grandfather was the only other person Otis knew who shared this pa.s.sion. Everyone else was afraid of it and refused to recognize its possibilities. So the two of them had exchanged letters about the textbooksa"the old man refused to try e-maila"and spoke on the phone at least once a week.

But after Grandma died, when he was still living in Iowa, Granddad started losing his memory. Head be driving to the grocery store and get lost. He forgot to take his medications and missed doctor appointments, wore dirty clothes to church, and didnat pay his bills. People from Iowa City called his mother all the time to report on his worrisome behavior. Mom cried about it, and Dad tried to comfort her, and eventually the two of them drove up to Iowa and moved him down to Florida. They gave him the guest bedroom down in the walk-out bas.e.m.e.nt, where Otis had his room. Now that he lived right in the same house, his grandfather was even more available to discuss nuclear energy and answer Otisas questions about how to get materials for his reactor.

And he was making great progress. Head already spent an afternoon last week taking apart the three clocks head found at the antique mall on I-10 and sc.r.a.ping the radioactive paint off the dials, but afterward he had less than a quarter of a pill vial full of flakes to show for his work. He would have to find many more radioactive clocks, but this big stolen one from Grandmaas Attic was a good start.

With a screwdriver he pried the face off his stolen clock. There, inside, glued to the back of the clock, was a tube of liquid and a little folded piece of paper. The paper read, in faded black ink, aHere is some more radium paint to touch up your clock! Enjoy!a This was too good to be true. This was better than finding a hundred old clocks. Enjoy!

He picked up his Geiger counter and switched it on, holding it up to the vial of paint. The flashing light went wild. He switched it off and sat back down, and feeling that the occasion called for a celebration, began cackling and rubbing his hands.

Then he heard something else, someone else, close by, laughing, a throaty chuckle, imitating him. n.o.body was at either window. He jumped up, unlocked the padlock on the inside of the door, and threw it open. There, at the top the driveway, with her back to him, walking briskly away, was the old lady whoad been hanging out at his house, the one whoad found the key to his shed and locked Granddad inside.

aHey,a he yelled at her. aOld lady! What do you want?a She turned around and waved but kept walking.

He stood there in the doorway, gazing out at the lush backyard without seeing anything, holding his breath. She mustave been spying on him. Surely she wouldnat be able to figure out what he was doing, a ditzy old lady like her who belonged in Grandmaas Attic. But maybe she wasnat ditzy at all. Maybe that was an act. Maybe she was some sort of government agent, reporting on his activities. Who would suspect an old lady of being a spy? The government wouldnat want a kid like him accomplishing what none of their scientists were able to do.

Otis stepped back and slammed his shed door closed. Another reason to hurry and complete his project. For some reason, he thought of Rusty, imagined telling her about this development. He wanted to tell her. He would tell her. Beatrice. Rustifer.

But first, there was the radioactive paint to open.

Part Three.

JUNE 2006.

Turned out it happened at a nothing game, an early morning scrimmage with the Trojans, a fairly kick-a.s.s team, which was, like Suzias team, made up of girls from a few different middle schools. It was on a Sat.u.r.day, and Soccer Dad was there, pacing and yelling from the sidelinesa"fortunately Suzi couldnat hear what he was saying. Nance had come to watch, too. Shead driven out to the field by herself and had brought her own lawn chair and was sitting at midfield holding a goofy-looking umbrella over her head. Poor woman must really have no life. Why couldnat it be Mom sitting there, watching her? Mom, as usual, had better things to do. She had to take Ava to support group and then out to lunch so Ava would feel good about herself even though she had to go to a support group. You had to be autistica"and whine about ita"to get her motheras attention.

The fourth quarter started and Suzias team, the Sharks, were behind by four. Their coach, Annika, eight months pregnant, was sitting on the bench, legs spread, chin in hand, like shead already given up. Her goalie coach, Jorge, was pacing around, yakking on his cell phone, probably telling his son to clean up his room. Important stuff.

All the action right now was down at the Trojansa goal, where the ground, being in the shade, was still damp. For the whole game the Sharks kept driving it down but couldnat get it in. The Trojansa goalie was Suzias friend Mykaila, who sprang around the goal box like some demented kidas toy: Mykaila in a Box.

Suzi, from her post, called out directions. aMaddy, mark up!a It was so hot the ground was doing the wavy thing.

She was hoping, praying, that the Trojans wouldnat bring the ball down to her goal box again. Her knee was hurting. In the past shead had other injuries, mostly minora"a concussion; a sprained ankle when she fell in a hole in back of a goal in Monticello (c.r.a.ppy field); sprained fingers; and, when extension diving, had bruised her elbow.

But her lingering injury was her left knee, which she kept twisting when she landed on it just so. The bursa sack in that knee, according to the PA, had gotten inflamed. She really needed to rest it, so shead be ready for soccer camp in July, but how could she do that? It was wrapped up tightly today, making her feel like Lurch on the Addams Family. Things could be worse, she kept reminding herself. Another goalie she knew, in a game just a month earlier, clutched the ball close to her face after shead captured ita"a big no-noa"and had gotten kicked in the jaw. Now this girlas jaw was broken and her mouth wired shut.

Stay down there and get a goal. Please. Her teammates in their ghostie gray jerseys reminded her of soldiers on a battlefield, some with current injuries and some haunted by past injuries: Janie with her shin splints and Haley with her torn ligament and Amandaas turf toe and Maddyas broken nose.

Whoa. The Trojansa center defense, a hulking s/he, delivered a slot ball down the field toward Suzi. Their right midfielder pounced and kept it moving. Suzi tensed up into the attack position. Take it away, she urged her teammates. Take it. Because of her knee, part of her dreaded having to defend their goal, but at the same time this was when she liked the game besta"when it was up close and tense and she couldnat think about anything else. The Sharksa midfielders werenat doing their jobs. Mia tried. Ali tried. A Trojan forward, little blond devil girl slipped in there, swiped the ball, and dribbled it toward Suzi.

Suzi stepped out into the penalty box. Once she came out she was committed. She had a personal goal for each game: to come out of her box at least twice. Shead already come out twice, and those two had gotten by her. Not this time.

She clapped her hands, spit on her gloves, watching the ball, and here it came, zinging toward her from left field and she lunged forward, her weight on the bad knee, and her kneecap popped.

At least shead stopped them from scoring.

She lay there on the ground, trying to breathe. She lay there, feeling like she was underwater, the pain in her knee like a weight pulling her down. Her father was bending over her, Annika, Mykaila, her team members, saying things, but they were above the water and their words were m.u.f.fled. None of this was surprising. What was surprising was the fact that she felt so relieved. Thatas that. She marveled at her lack of emotion. But then Nance was kneeling beside her, getting down into the water with her, stroking her hair, holding her hand, and thatas when Suzi started crying.

Suzi didnat listen to her iPod or to Star 98. When her friends and Davis called, she had nothing to say. She didnat feel like reading or Mys.p.a.cing. She didnat want to be out on the couch in the den, watching TV. She wanted to lie in her room under her purple and orange sixties mod-daisy-patterned comforter and do nothing.

Unlike Avaas room, which underwent a radical change every few monthsa"Ava threw out all her dolphin posters and everything dolphin-related when she plunged into Elvisa"or Otisas room, which never had anything but science c.r.a.p in it, Suzias rooma"the smallest of the three kidsa bedroomsa"was layered with things from every stage of her life and every interest shead ever had. Her white iron bed, which her mom had rescued from a junk store and painted pink for her second birthday. The black wool carpet with colored b.u.t.terflies that Suzi herself picked out at T.J. Maxx when she was four. Her old posters of animals and newer ones of rock groupsa"My Chemical Romance, Panic at the Disco. The clutter on her desk and dresser and in the corners of the room and under the beda"plastic Pooh figures, lip gloss, sh.e.l.ls, bird feathers, ticket stubs, crayons, soccer trophies, Brownie badges, dusty photos of her friends, stuffed animals, American Girl dolls. Her bookcase full of board books and picture books and complete collections of Nancy Drew, Little House, Ramona, Narnia, Harry Potter, and more recent additions, books about Our Changing Bodies and Crushes and s.e.xy vampires and Cool Girls Kicking b.u.t.t.

On Suzias left knee was a brace thing that went up to the middle of her thigh. She was going to have to wear the brace and keep her knee immobile for three to four weeks, and then shead have to do physical therapy for the rest of the summer. Shead have to use crutches for at least six weeks. She could cheer her team on from the sidelines, but she couldnat partic.i.p.ate in any drills or weight training sessions, and, of course, no practices or games. No Olympic Development soccer camp. She was done with soccer for the summer, maybe longer, depending on how she healed.

In the evenings, her father tiptoed into her room like she was on her deathbed. Head come in and talk and talk, update her on the latest tropical storm development, describe his day at the office a.s.sembling training packetsa"whatever the h.e.l.l those werea"and usually head ask her if she wanted to watch a movie with him, but she always told him she didnat feel like it. Although he never said so, she could tell that her father was sick, sick, sick with disappointment about the Olympic Development soccer camp. He wore a pitiful hangdog expression that drove Suzi nuts and after a while made her angry. Like she could help what happened! Play soccer yourself, she wanted to yell at him. But she felt sorrier for him than she did for herself, because he was old and had nothing but his job and she was young and had her whole life ahead of her. A great future ahead of her, Nance had said.

Her mother, brisk and unsentimental as always, brought her snacks and meals and pain meds on a tray, but didnat have time to sit with her.

Ava kept looking in at Suzi like she was an animal in a zoo, and once she brought her a crayon-drawn get-well card, which was sweet, but when she came in to deliver it she spent the whole time watching herself in Suzias full-length mirror.

aWhy do you keep doing that?a she asked Ava, even though she knew what Avaas reaction would be.

aIam not doing anything.a aYou look fine. Stop worrying.a aIam not worrying. Just leave me alone.a And off she went, storming out of the room, leaving Suzi alone and realizing how much she missed Ava, not Ava as she was now, but the old Ava.

The old Ava used to read Nancy Drew books aloud in a pleasing, dramatic voice. She and Suzi played with their American Girl dolls or their stuffed animals or played dress-upa"Ava the servant girl and Suzi the benevolent princessa"or go fish or Dogopoly or schoola"Suzi the teacher and Ava the pupil. They would play together for entire days. Now all they did was fight, which was sometimes fun, but mostly tedious, and sometimes, like now, totally inadequate.

Otis never came to see Suzi, but he did encourage Parson to come in and keep her company, which Parson did for a while, until she heard the back door open and someone more interesting come into the house.

Her granddad wandered in and sat on the end of her bed and looked at the floor, and then at her. Occasionally he patted her brace. aNow what did you do to your knee, kiddo?a he kept asking her.

Only Nance had time to sit with her, bring her brownies and magazines, the kind of teen magazines her mother would never buy for her. Sometimes she brought her knitting, a brown woolly thing, and said she was knitting Suzi a sweater. A sweater? Obviously the woman hadnat lived in Florida very long.

Nance hadnat mentioned the Italy trip again. Suzi was disappointed that Nance had given up on it so easily. It wouldave been something to look forward to. Although, with her bad knee, they probably couldnat have gone this August anyway.

aWeare having Grandparentsa Day at my church,a Nance told Suzi one evening after shead given her a mango smoothie from Tropical Smoothie. She rocked in a rocking chair at the end of the bed, tapping her sneakered foot on the floor. aYouare supposed to bring your grandchildren to church. Would you like to be my granddaughter for the day? Itas Genesis Church, where my neighbor, Buff Coffey, is youth minister.a aWhen is it?a Stalling.

aThis Sunday,a Nance told her. aArenat you about ready for a change of scenery? I can help you get in and out.a She gave Suzi a wink. aBet thereall be some cute guys there.a What would an old lady know about cute guys? But Suzi was bored out of her mind and her friends were already making excuses about why they couldnat stop by, and Davis was losing interest in her because she couldnat roller-skatea"h.e.l.l, couldnat even walka"so it was probably no time at all until he moved on to a girl who could put one foot in front of the other and who actually liked him back. There was plenty of time to lie here and think about how miserable she was.

aI donat know.a Her mother was slumped over the sink, washing dishes. aIsnat that a church of wackos? Like a cult?a Suzi had to admit that she knew nothing about the church. Shead had to hobble into the kitchen on her crutches to talk to her mother, since her mother rarely came to her.

aDo you really want to go?a Suzi shrugged. aItas for Grandparentsa Day.a aWhat?a Her mother turned away from the sink. aIs she calling you her granddaughter?a aNo,a Suzi said, wondering why her mother would care. aIam just a stand-in.a aShe said that? Stand-in? Youare sure? She didnat say that you were her granddaughter? She never said that? Or hinted at that?a Suzi was confused. What exactly, had Nance said? Why did it matter? aUh. No, she didnat. Sheas not deluded or anything. I donat think.a aOh my G.o.d.a Her mother turned back to washing the dishes, scrubbing at a m.u.f.fin tin like she was performing the most important job on earth.

aWhy not put that in the dishwasher?a Suzi suggested.

Her mother only scrubbed harder, working on every m.u.f.fin indentation. aThe dishwasher doesnat get this clean,a she said, and then sighed loudly. aWe need to go back to church.a That would never happen. They went to church only a couple of times a year, because her mother said she didnat want to have to get up early on the weekend and hurry around making everyone get dressed and have to look presentable herself and thena"horrors!a"be forced to chitchat with well-meaning strangers!

aDad would really like it if we went to church,a her mother went on. aMaybe Granddad could go with you and Nance.a Suzi didnat want her granddad dragging along after them. aI donat think head like that kind of church,a she told her mother, even though she really had no idea what kind of church it was.

aProbably not.a Her mother turned off the water in the kitchen sink and s.n.a.t.c.hed up the dish towel. She frowned at Suzi. aI just donat know.a aItas a church, not a satanic temple.a What was Mom worrying so much about this for?

Mom neednat have worried, because by the time she sat down in the church, Suzi was too tired to even consider joining a cult. Most of her energy and focus was used up getting into the backseat of Nanceas car and then out again in front of the church, which was in a strip mall; then across the sidewalk and through the front door; through the lobby, which was like one youad fine in a fancy hotel with marble floors and a guest services desk and couches and armchairs and even shops selling coffee and T-shirts and CDs; and then into the sanctuary, which was like an auditorium with padded seats and thick carpeting. She and Nance sat at the back, at the end of an aisle.

The room was huge. Red and purple spotlights shone on the stage, where, in front of a metallic backdrop a rock band played. In front of the rock band, six singers, three white and three black, exhorted the congregation to stand and feel the spirit. Suzi, thank G.o.d, couldnat stand, and neither did Nance; but they watched the semicool-looking singers on the screen lead the congregation in a bouncy song about Jesus that went on and on. Big cameras were stationed on platforms here and there, and images of the band and musicians were projected onto two big screens on either side of the stage, along with the words to the songs.

The congregation was roughly 70 percent African American and the rest white, with a few Asians sprinkled here and there. Some people wore jeans, even old people. Quite a few tattoos. An African American woman in a silver suit and hat sat in front waving two flags in front of her, like a starter at a car race. There was a lot of hollering and swaying.

During the offering, aLate Breaking Genesis Newsa played on the screensa"announcements about upcoming church events. Neither Nance nor Suzi put any money into the white offering bucket pa.s.sed down their row.

Nance leaned over and said to Suzi, aThis is an unusual church.a aIall say.a A chuckling African American man took the stage, made a few jokes about his short stature, and then introduced the youth minister Buffington Coffey, who was delivering the sermon, the regular pastor being out doing the Lordas work somewhere else. Reverend Coffey wore jeans and a plaid b.u.t.ton-down shirt untucked. He had a handsome face and long sideburns, like somebody from an Abercrombie ad. Then he started talking about taking his little girl swimming in the Gulf, and Suzi quit listening.

Nance, whoad slipped a beige cardigan sweater over her pink church dress, kept glancing over at Suzi and smiling, patting her hand.

Suzi was slumped so she could stick her leg out in the aisle, and she felt self-conscious. Her bare feet, in the ugly sport sandals her mother made her wear, were freezing, and, not being an old lady, she hadnat thought to bring a cardigan. Maybe the cold was what made people here so lively. A middle-aged white woman with a long flowing skirt and bare feet was swooping and genuflecting in the aisle near Suzi, like she was hearing music on an invisible iPod.

Okay, this church was bizarre, but more bizarre than any other church? Just not as civilized as Faith Presbyterian, where people wore better clothes and sat quietly like they were half asleep.

Nothing was mentioned at all in the service about it being Grandparentsa Day. Maybe Nance had got that wrong.

Now the Reverend Coffey was talking about a vision head had that morning, and Suzi perked up. Who didnat like a vision? He paced back and forth on the stage so they could get the full benefit of him, but Suzi watched his screen image rather than the actual him, because that way she could see his face more clearly.

aI saw a field,a he said, aa huge field, that stretched as far as I could see. I was standing in this field and I was a child, and G.o.d was there, too. He was my father, and he was standing a little ways away with open arms, asking me to come to him. aI will catch you,a he said. aI will hold you up. I am always here for you! Iall be here for you when your job evaporates, when your earthly relationships fail. I am all knowing, and all loving, and all protecting. Thatas what a fatheras love is.a Now I know.a Here the Reverend Coffey stopped and stared out into the congregation. He had long eyelashes and dark eyes. aNow I know that many of you have never experienced that kind of love from a parent. And you want it. You need it.a True, Suzi thought. She did need it. It was like he was talking directly to her. Cool!

aBut you can experience that love with G.o.d,a the reverend went on. aWith him, you can feel that safety, that protection, that unconditional love youave always yearned for. Just step forward. Move toward him. Heas waiting for you.a Okay, Suzi didnat mind G.o.d waiting for her, but she really wanted her mother. Why couldnat it be her mother, waiting there for her in that huge field? She pictured her mother standing in a field, a soccer field, and then she started thinking about soccer and pretty soon the sermon was over.

After the service came to a close, Nance introduced Suzi to people around them. aThis is my granddaughter.a The first time she did it, Suzi wondered if shead just slipped up. But then she did it three, four, five times. Some people shook Suzias handa"clasped ita"and others hugged her. They asked after her knee and said that Suzi should pray on it and ask G.o.d to heal it. aWe just love your grandmama,a said a cute old African American woman wearing blue jeans. aSheas a precious jewel.a After most people had cleared out of the auditorium, Suzi and Nance made their way through the lobby.

aHope you donat mind that I told people youare my granddaughter. Iam sure that Helen wouldave been just like you.a Nanceas eyes had gotten watery.

Donat cry, lady; thatas all I ask. aItas fine,a Suzi said, pausing to rest.

They approached the reverend, who was shaking hands with people leaving the church. aThis is my adopted granddaughter,a Nance told him, after head greeted her profusely, clasping both her hands in his. aSuzi, this is Reverend Coffey, our neighbor in Canterbury Hills.a Reverend Coffey was even taller than head looked onstage and built like a football player. aJust call me Buff,a he said. He had longish, wavy brown hair and looked like Orlando Bloom, with the same jutting chin and thinnish lips. And those eyes! He turned to Nance. aThis girl is a true gift from G.o.d,a he said, about Suzi. Then he said to Suzi, aHope youall be back next week. And come to youth group. Iam the leader.a He looked intently into her eyes, as if there was more going on at youth group than just your standard Bible-related activities.

Nance offered to take Suzi to Dunkina Donuts after church, somewhere Suzi hadnat been since she was eight.

aLetas bring your grandfather with us next week!a Nance said in the car.

Suzi, sprawled out in the backseat, was surprised that Nance was just a.s.suming shead be going back to Genesis Church, and she was even more surprised to discover that she was actually considering it.

aYour granddad doesnat get out much,a Nance said. aI think head enjoy it. Donat you?a aMaybe.a Suzi had never thought about her granddad being lonely, but she supposed he must be. aI thought you said today was Grandparentsa Day.a aI just made that up,a Nance said. Her eyes met Suzias in the rearview mirror and then slid quickly away. aI wanted you to come with me. I shouldnat have lied, though. Iam sorry.a That was strange. A church lady telling a lie like it was no big deal.

aI wouldave gone anyway,a Suzi said, but that might have been a lie also.

As soon as Nance got Suzi settled at a table in Dunkina Donuts with a few cream-filled delicacies, surrounded by glum-looking people getting their sugar fixes, Nance announced that while Suzi was eating her first donut, shead drive down the road and fill the car up with gas and be back in two shakes of a jiffy jackas tail. aSave me the biggest one,a she told Suzi, pointing at the donuts.

Suzi watched her drive off, pulling into the traffic on Monroe in her oddly aggressive manner. Why couldnat she have waited to get gas? Why the urgency? She drove right on by the Sh.e.l.l station on the corner. But maybe she had a particular brand of gas in mind. The thing was, after Suzi had eaten all the donuts but one, she sat there and sat there. She looked at her watch. Nance had been gone for half an hour. Suzias braced knee, propped up on a red vinyl chair, was throbbing. It was time for more pain meds. They were a few miles from Canterbury Hills or she mightave set off walkinga"if she hadnat been injured.

Should she call someone? Nance herself didnat have a cell phone. Shead have to call home and ask one of her parents or Otis to come and get her. Otis would be mean about it. And she didnat want to get Nance in trouble, make her look like a flake. But where the h.e.l.l was she? Suzi called Mykaila and chatted awhile, told her about the church service, about the fetching Reverend Coffey, told her she was stranded at Dunkina Donuts. Not a bad place, Mykaila observed. If you have to be stranded. Maybe Nance was in an accident! Mykaila suggested hopefully.

Suzi ate the last donut, then waited another half an hour, then another fifteen minutes, then, finally, called her mother. Shead thought her mother might be angry at having to come get her, but she wasnat. No, instead of being angry or feeling bad about Suzi getting stranded, her mother was worried about what had happened to Nance.

In the van, Suzi told her mother that it really hadnat been Grandparentsa Day at church after all, but that Nance had pretended to some people at church that she was Suzias grandmother. aI think sheas confused,a Suzi said. aMaybe sheas getting Alzheimeras.a aOh G.o.d,a her mother muttered, like it was the end of the world or something.

When they drove by Nanceas house, her bottle green car was in the carport.