For months, she had tried. She went to school, did her home-
work, sat through Sunday services without feeling like she had
a target on her back. She smiled when people asked how she
was doing. She told Naomi and Elijah she was fine. And for a
little while, she almost believed it.
Then the call came.
It was a Sunday afternoon, the sky washed in a lazy gold as
Bishop stepped out of church. The air smelled like fresh rain
on pavement, like the world had just been scrubbed clean. She
barely glanced at her phone before answering.
"Hello?"
There was a pause on the other end. A shaky breath. Then a
voicesmall, uncertain.
"Is this Bishop?"
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