Joy drew the blue cotton dress over Wynter's head and tugged it down, her hands fluttering to smooth the collar and straighten the skirt.

She stood back with a satisfied smile. "I knew it would fit you perfectly. I wore it when I was about your age. I have a sash you can use as a belt."

"Is it only for special occasions? I'd like to wear it for temple services, at least."

"No, you'll put a rip in it. Sit there. I have some news."

Wynter sat on her bed, hands in her lap, feeling rather ladylike in the new dress—although ladies didn't have dirty feet and sandals held together with string.

Joy clenched her hands under her chin and paced the dorm. "It's not exactly news. It's not definite yet. Momma is making plans to come to the wedding!"

Wynter jumped up. At Joy's frown, she sat down again. "You talked to her?"

"She mentioned it to the leadership circle when she called yesterday. She might be too busy. But I hope... I'm very sure she'll come. Her eldest daughter is getting married!"

"Her eldest child."

"Yes, that's what I meant." Joy knelt before Wynter and took her hands. "Since she left, I've put myself on a better path to God. Everyone can see it. But you, Wynter, I don't know about you. Last week you fell asleep in the children's prayer meeting before supper. It wasn't even late! You're behind with your craftwork. You aren't doing it mindfully. And this morning, I'm told, you disrupted the exercise class. How could you be so disrespectful to Nilusha? She's the sweetest, kindest person you'll ever meet."

None of the accusations were untrue. Wynter debated whether to defend herself or simply accept Joy's reprimand.

What worried her was that Momma would hear of her sins and decide not to visit.

"I didn't disrupt the class," she said. "Someone... a boy on the other side of the fence was dancing. Some of us walked across the courtyard to take a look. The exercise class was over, anyway."

"What boy? What dance?"

"He was way in the distance with his work team. I don't know who." It was Roman, wielding a long-handled rake like a shaman's staff, stomping his feet and hollering, beating his chest as the rising sun edged his silhouette in fire. "Nilusha called it a rain dance. She didn't mind at all. Everyone was clapping and dancing along."

They'd all enjoyed it, a bright spot in an otherwise predictable morning. Until Gabby marched out of the kitchen and grabbed the hair of the two nearest kids and knocked their heads together, and ordered everyone to clear away the mats and go inside for school.

One of the supervisors had chased Roman through the lettuces before tackling him in the scrub, bringing him down in a flurry of bone-dry dust. As Wynter turned to hurry inside, she'd heard the supervisor growl, "One more strike and you're in the hole."

Roman had been laughing so hard he could hardly speak. "What does that even mean?"

He didn't care about anything. He was going home soon.

"Darling, that's not the point," Joy was saying, although to Wynter it was exactly the point. She'd never dream of disrespecting Nilusha. "Promise me you'll be good as gold. When Momma comes, we want her to hear only good things about you, don't we?"

"I'm trying..."

Wynter stiffened as Miss Althea stopped outside the open door.

Joy got quickly to her feet, flushing with guilt. "Althea, I brought over a dress for Wynter. For the wedd—"

"Wynter has work to do," Miss Althea said flatly.

Wynter's breath had stopped in her chest. She was supposed to be in the kitchen, which was nothing to do with Miss Althea, but Miss Althea took a special interest in discovering Wynter doing the wrong thing no matter where she was.

"Take it off," Joy muttered. "I'll store it for you in my room."

Miss Althea hadn't moved from the doorway, so Wynter had to strip off the dress in front of her. She wore only underpants but couldn't turn away for modesty. Then Joy would see the bruises on her back, which would force Joy to pretend she hadn't seen. And that was more painful than anything, knowing that Joy knew yet said nothing.

She shoved the dress into Joy's arms, and Joy shuffled out the door.

Miss Althea glared down her nose at Wynter, soaking up her vulnerability. Shivering despite the cloying heat, Wynter quickly put on her t-shirt and her shorts. She took a few tentative steps forward.

"So, your mother is returning." Miss Althea tilted her neck at an odd angle. "She's made quite a name for herself in Thailand."

"I'm supposed to be—"

Miss Althea clamped her hand on Wynter's shoulder, driving a spike of fear down her spine. "I'm sure you can't wait to tell Miriam that you and I are the very best of friends."

"I can't wait," Wynter whispered.

Hope pushed its way to the surface. With Momma around, Miss Althea wouldn't dare touch her. The worst of it had started after Momma left three years ago. Joy had failed to make Momma understand what happened each time Wynter got into trouble, and had given up trying. Wynter would make her see.

"Your shirt is inside-out," Miss Althea said.

Wynter wrenched herself free and darted away.

* * *

The boys were complaining, as usual, about the heat and the supervisors and the prayer meetings, the hours of reading they were expected to do every night. They never did the reading, of course. They "bullshitted" their way through study group, according to Xay, feigning interest by asking complicated questions to see if they could catch out the leaders.

They moved on to complain about the food.

"Just when we thought we were done," Xay said, "we have to do a second planting. All the stuff we pulled outta the ground, the peppers and onions and that disgusting okra, we have to plough those beds and plant it all over again!"

"I like okra," Roman said.

Xay threw a clockwork rabbit at Roman's head. It tangled in his already tangled hair, clinging over his ear. Roman couldn't be bothered to retaliate.

"I'll be eating that crap for the rest of the year while you're at home stuffing your face with fish and chips and Cherry Ripes," Xay grumbled. He flopped onto his back, hardly interested in the toys Roman was setting up in the battle arena. "You promised us rain, Wynter," he moaned. "When's it coming?"

Wynter was biting on her lip, fighting nausea. Her hand hurt so badly. Fortunately, they couldn't see her clearly in the dark, over in her corner. "Tonight."

Xay bolted upright. "Wait, really?"

"Yes."

"How d'you know?"

"Roman's rain dance, of course." She shouldn't make light of what was essentially a prayer. She was terrible with jokes and silently vowed to never try again. "The air feels heavy. Can't you feel it? And I saw lightning beyond the mountain as I was walking over here."

And so they waited, tense with anticipation, unable to concentrate. Wynter switched on the radio and tucked her hand into her armpit to ease the throbbing pain. Her evening had gone badly following the unexpected run-in with Miss Althea. She'd been called to the temple to play piano for a special service. The leaders were hosting a group visiting from the UK branch of the Light, and the regular pianist had sprained his shoulder on the farm.

She wasn't accomplished on the piano, and made mistakes. She wasn't the only one who found it hard to concentrate—the visitors were clearly struggling with the oppressive heat—but she was the only one told to stay behind when everyone else left.

"We're still waiting, Wynnie," Roman sang out, an hour later.

Wynter stirred, half unconscious, wracked by pain. "Not long now."

Xay came over. "What's wrong with your finger?"

"Nothing." She tucked her hand away again. "I had to do some extra piano practice and... I kept screwing it up and then... the piano lid fell on it."

He took her wrist. "Ro, get a light on this."

They made her sit still and examined her swollen little finger and the bruised nailbed. They argued for a long time over what to do about it. Their scrutiny set her heart racing. Being the center of anyone's attention never ended well, and Roman was working himself up into a state. He was an expert on the subject, having once read an anatomy book in order to treat a bird's broken wing. Unsuccessfully, it turned out, but Roman demanded credit for the experience.

They discussed stealing the confiscated painkillers that a woman from their study group had confessed to keeping under her mattress. Roman thought masking the pain was a bad idea, since pain was a good indicator of whether the finger was healing. Xay wanted to take the risk.

Wynter's heartbeat steadied. Xay cleaned off a piece of scrap metal to use as a splint, binding her finger to it with a strip ripped from an old sack. His commitment to doing the job right intrigued her, washing away her fear and leaving a glow of pleasure in its wake. Her finger wasn't a broken wing, an interesting problem to solve with diagrams from a book. He wanted to take away her pain and make her whole.

It had been years since her own sister had taken that much care of her, and even then, while Joy was praying with her and feeding her medicine, she'd berated her for being sick.

Xay tied off the bandage and brought her wounded finger briefly to his lips, a solemn kiss as their eyes met.

Then he grinned. "Hear that?"

The tin roof vibrated like a drum skin as the first heavy drops of rain hit, clattering like pebbles. The uneven staccato became a deafening rush as the heavens opened. Roman sprang into action with a whoop of excitement and ran outside.

"Come on, come on," Xay urged Wynter, taking her uninjured hand.

The dirt quickly turned to mud. Behind the shed, where nobody from the ashram could see them, Roman was doing his wild rain dance in the scrub. Xay joined in and their howls were drowned out by a roll of thunder.

Wynter closed her eyes, raised her arms, and tipped up her face to feel the rain hitting her cheeks. Momma was coming back and Joy was happy. She whirled on the spot, sensing the boys nearby though she couldn't hear them anymore. Pure emotion welled up in her chest and opened her throat and erupted in a cry of exhilaration.

Time stretched impossibly thin. Minutes or hours passed as she spun faster and faster, intoxicated by the dizziness. Memories prickled the corners of her mind. She remembered being this happy once before. She remembered running through the mud and dancing in the rain and shrieking at the lightning, and someone at her side.

Someone. Not a shadow or a ghost. A part of herself. A part broken into pieces and peeled back by Miss Althea's whip and Joy's indifference and Momma's disappearance. Broken pieces ripped from her soul and shaken loose.

Floating away.

* * *

Hope had never changed Wynter's life. Not once. Hope was a false promise to make you believe, to make you smile while you waited for things to change. Hope always tricked you in the end.

Joy held on to hope the longest. Then, she spent the final moments of her unmarried life screaming at Wynter for making Momma stay in Thailand.

Wynter wasn't sure how it might be her fault. She sat on Joy's bed in the crumpled blue dress and picked dirt from her nails, and didn't say a word while two young women braided Joy's hair in preparation for the ceremony.

She understood Joy's devastation, of course. Did Joy understand hers?

"I've got nothing left," Joy sobbed. "Nothing left if Momma doesn't care."

Raya and Vallea exchanged disapproving looks and prayed for the Light to take her negativity away.

The tears kept falling. "Why are you the one who's still here?"

Wynter looked up, confused, and met Joy's red-rimmed eyes. "Where else am I supposed to be?"

"I've done everything right, so why has everyone I love gone away?"

"Sean is here. Don't you love him?"

"Don't talk to me about Sean! It's not the same at all. You don't understand anything."

"Go sit in the temple with everyone else," Vallea told Wynter, eager to get her out of the way so they could put the bride back together.

"I'm supposed to throw petals when she walks down the aisle." Wynter indicated the basket of dried paloverde flowers.

"I'll do that," Vallea said impatiently. "You're upsetting her. Go away."

Wynter went away. She entered the temple via the back corridor and sat in the music room with a guitar, working out the chords to her favorite songs from the radio. Using only her left hand on the fretboard, she didn't make a sound but in her mind she heard every note.

Nobody came looking for her, although she was scheduled to sing a solo at the wedding. Nobody noticed she was missing.

Where am I supposed to be?

* * *

"Where's Xay?"

Roman sat in the corner—her corner—scribbling in a tiny notebook. "Cleaning the shower block."

"In the middle of the night?"

Roman chuckled. "We took the opportunity, while everyone was at the wedding, to go mud-surfing. Got caught. Have you noticed we're living in a mud bath?"

He must be referring to the pathways and roads crisscrossing the ashram that ran like rivers during the rainstorms, depositing mud everywhere. "It happens every year."

"But why? Why is nobody fixing the problem?" He jumped up and thrust the notebook at Wynter. "I'm drawing up plans for stormwater drains."

His tightly wound scribbles made no sense to her as she flicked through the pages. "Is Xay coming tonight?"

"Well, his chores will take twice as long cuz he's doing my share. He volunteered. He knows how important this project is. It'll be my parting legacy. I'm outta here in five days. This could be the last time I see you, Wynnie."

There was something wrong with the way he said that. Something forced. As if hope had tricked him, too, and he'd only just realized the betrayal. The Light built a façade around emotions with ritual and mantras, and she'd learned to see glimmers of authenticity poking through the cracks. Joy still had trouble maintaining the façade. Roman was trying, and failing, and Xay didn't try at all, which was why she liked him.

"Has something happened?" Wynter said.

Roman spun away and pushed his hands through his hair. "I'm not leaving on Tuesday. They told my mum I'm doing so well I should stay a bit longer." His voice was tight and high as the words tumbled out. "They told her I'm on the right path to God at last. Am I? I can't tell. How can humans even begin to understand a god? But it's okay. A bit longer is okay. I'm gonna be an illegal alien!" He faced her again, grinning broadly. "How about that?"

"I don't know what that is."

"If they track me down, they'll throw me in jail! That's where I'll find God. He hangs out in jail. Everyone who's ever murdered someone turns to God in the end." His hands chopped the air for emphasis. "I looked that up, ages ago. When I had a computer. How long have I been here?"

"In Arizona? Um, three months."

"Ninety days. You're right! My visa was for ninety days. Xay can stay as long as he likes. He's an American citizen."

"I know."

"Pretty sure his mum's gonna become an illegal alien, same day I do."

If Ember was sent home, Xay would go with her. If Wynter lost Xay, she would lose everything she cared about.

"I have to go," she stammered. "I forgot to put my pillow under the sheet so it looks like I'm still in bed."

Roman's eyes narrowed. "That's a lie, sweet Wynnie. I can tell when you're lying to me, even if he can't. Someone is hurting you. Someone broke your finger. Someone put welts on your back. I saw them when you were dancing in the rain."

She grew defensive. "You said, when I came in, that you were going home in five days. You lied to me."

Roman did a double-take, shocked at being exposed. His mood plummeted. He sat on a crate, head in his hands. "I got confused," he said quietly. "My ticket did say Tuesday the ninth. Someone will fix it. Dad will call them when I don't show up in Brisbane next weekend. He'll make them send me home."

"Is he expecting you next weekend?"

"Of course. He has a big calendar in the kitchen. He marked my return date. I watched him write it in!" Roman's face screwed up in despair. "He writes to me every week but they never give me his letters."

His voice was rising again. Xay would know how to calm him down, but Xay wasn't here. And she felt a strange connection to Roman, this unnoticed boy, desperate to be seen.

"We can listen to music, if you like. Until Xay gets here."

"No, no... I have work to do." He whipped the notebook out of her hands. "Once I figure out the engineering challenges, I'll make a presentation to the leadership. They'll have to listen to me then."

Wynter took the radio to a different corner and listened for a while. When after the fourth song Xay still hadn't shown up, and Roman was still engrossed in his work, she slipped out of the shed, unnoticed.