Acolytes Zoey and Devon, carrying their lit torches, walked solemnly at her side down the center aisle. Zoey was pretty sure Crystal was mad at her because she hadn’t said a word while they were in the basement putting on their vestments. Usually Crystal would straighten the necks of their white cottas to make sure they weren’t all crooked, but this morning she and Devon had been on their own. Now, as she and Devon reached the altar and stuck their torches in the wall holders and took their seats, Crystal sat too, but never made eye contact. When the hymn ended and Reverend Paula began to recite the opening prayer, Zoey took a discreet look out at the sea of faces spread out over the sanctuary. Nearly every eye was on Crystal. Some faces wore smiles, others appeared relieved. She couldn’t tell how Tamar felt, but something about her expression made Zoey think their collective great-grandmother was none too happy with the town’s oldest teen. But no matter the congregation’s mood, Zoey was glad she was home; she just hoped Crys didn’t stay mad at her forever.
