Mom was busy explaining the bow case—she’d put it down to deal with the girl and only now did Severin and Sierra notice. Mom said it was exactly what it looked like—a bow. We’d been on the way to her archery class when we’d decided to swing past the meeting house and scope it out, and just happened to catch the escapee and win an introduction Was it a good excuse? No. But if we were trying to smuggle in weapons, we’d do something a little less obtrusive—and a little more deadly—than a bow.When we got inside, I looked around. The last time I’d been in a SLAM meeting house, what struck me most was how serene it was. Like what I’d imagine from a cult or a commune.Throw a bomb in the mix and that serenity gets blown to hell.People darted from one door to another. I heard voices raised in irritation, in anger, in anxiety. Somewhere someone was shouting that he didn’t give a shit if it wasn’t possible to clear out in two hours—make it possible.When Sierra and Severin came through, people slowed down and lowered their voices, clearly trying not to get noticed.
