Was Mrs. Yeats picking it up? My ears strained to hear what I could only imagine. My mother was calling this morning. While I sat in the plush auditorium with the voice of Mrs. Clancy droning on like elevator music, my mother was getting ready to destroy my life. Was the phone ringing right now? “You okay?” Devon whispered. He sat on my right, and next to him was Peter and then Nancy and the whole Benedict’s group. Would they be sitting with me tomorrow? From the stage, Mrs. Clancy paused. “And now for our morning prayer. In Jesus’s name we pray.” I bowed my head and folded my hands together. I wasn’t wearing Bubbe’s necklace anymore, so I knew I blended in. I didn’t even have to pretend to look like I was praying. I was. I figured if everyone else was praying to Jesus, then maybe God had more time for me. I squeezed my eyes shut. Can’t you stop her, God? I know she’s my mother, and it’s in the Ten Commandments that I’m supposed to obey. But you’re her Father in heaven, so that means she’s supposed to obey you, right?
