Read Online The Survivors by Will Weaver - Free Book Online Page A

hungry girl at the table.”
    â€œWhat lake do you live on again?” Bill asks abruptly.
    â€œActually, it’s the river,” Sarah says. “The Mississippi.”
    â€œI see,” he says, nodding. “Judge Lawrence and his wife have a big house out on the Mississippi. Do you know them?”
    â€œSorry, no,” Sarah answers.
    â€œExcellent judge. Great people. Sound family values.”
    â€œHave you found a church yet? A congregation here in town?” Jane asks Sarah.
    â€œNot yet. We’re still—sort of—getting settled,” Sarah says.
    â€œWell, there are many nice church groups in town,” Mackenzie’s mother says. “You’ll have to visit our church—it’s the biggest one, just east of town?”
    Sarah nods. “I’ll mention it to my parents.”
    â€œAnd what do they do?” Bill asks. Jane shoots him a slightly annoyed glance.
    â€œMy father’s … retired. My mother is a literary agent, so she can work from home. From anywhere, really.”
    â€œWe’d love to meet them. Do you have brothers or sisters?” Jane asks cheerfully.
    â€œI’m an only child,” Sarah says, then take a big gulp of her milk—and scrunches up her face. This milk tastes thin and watery, and maybe it’s her imagination, but she thinks she can taste chemicals.
    Mackenzie’s mother frowns. “That must be lonely. Mackenzie has two older brothers in college. They were both all-state in tennis,” she adds. She scoops more of the casserole onto Mackenzie’s plate. Mackenzie makes a face and pushes away her plate.
    â€œIn any case, we’d love to meet your parents!” Jane says again.
    The Friday-night football game is preceded by a giant Zamboni-like machine, really a huge vacuum cleaner that makes steady passes up and down the field. It leaves strips of brighter green grass in its wake. The dust is bad lately. Coughing up and down the bleachers has a ragged rhythm like acorns falling onto a roof. However, on this small-town Friday night with football under the lights, the high school band thumps loudly, the cheerleaders bounce and cartwheel, and the crowd cheers—though voices are muffled behind dust masks. Sarah follows Mackenzie to a group of girls high up in the bleachers. “It’s important to see over the back so we know who’s coming and going,” Mackenzie explains.
    Just before the game starts, Sarah looks over her shoulder and down. Something just made her look. Ray is staring up at her. His earbuds are in, but he’s focused on her.
    He waves.
    She swallows, then discreetly lifts her chin.
    He is holding two bags of popcorn, one of which he holds up to her.
    Sarah turns quickly back to the other girls.
    â€œWhat?” Mackenzie asks. She has major radar.
    â€œNothing.” Sarah sits for a moment. “Actually, are the bathrooms down there?”
    â€œSomebody go with Sarah and show her the can,” Mackenzie says, and there is laughter.
    â€œI will, I will,” chirp a couple of voices, including Rachel’s.
    â€œNo—you’ll miss the kickoff. I can find it myself.” With that, Sarah trots down the metal steps just as the national anthem starts: perfect timing, as none of the girls get up and follow her.
    Behind the grandstand bleachers, Ray is nowhere to be seen. Which is fine, because Rachel, hand over her heart and singing the anthem, is looking over her shoulder and down at Sarah.
    Sarah waves and continues toward the concession stand and restroom building.
    Ray is leaning against a large wooden post, waiting for her. His ever-present sketch pad is tucked behind his belt; a pencil point pokes out of the dark hair over his right ear. From behind his back, he whips out two little brown bags and holds out one to her. “Popcorn?”
    â€œMaybe,” Sarah says. “Though how do I know it doesn’t have some sort of date