Like wisps of smoke that upward flee,
Disappearing on the breeze,
Days dissolving one by one . . .
Time stands still for no one. <\/p>\n
Katy Lambright stared at the neatly written lines in her journal and crinkled her brow so tightly her forehead hurt. She rubbed the knot between her eyebrows with her fingertip. What was wrong? Ah, yes. Two uses of \u201cone\u201d on the final lines. She stared harder, tapping her temple with the eraser end of her pencil. What would be a better ending? <\/p>\n
She whispered, \u201cTime\u2019s as fleeting as the \u2014\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cKaty-girl?\u201d <\/p>\n
Just like the poem stated, her thought dissipated like a wisp of smoke. Dropping her pencil onto the journal page, she smacked the book closed and dashed to the top of the stairs. \u201cWhat?\u201d <\/p>\n
Dad stood at the bottom with his hand on the square newel post, looking up. \u201cIt\u2019s seven fifteen. You\u2019ll miss your bus if we don\u2019t get going.\u201d
Katy\u2019s stomach turned a rapid somersault. Maybe she shouldn\u2019t have fixed those rich banana-pecan pancakes for breakfast. But she\u2019d wanted Dad to have a special breakfast this morning. It was a big day for him. And for her. Mostly for her. \u201cI\u2019ll be right down.\u201d <\/p>\n
She grabbed her sweater from the peg behind her bedroom door. No doubt today would be like any other late-August day \u2014unbearably hot \u2014but the high school was air conditioned. She might get cold. So she quickly folded the made-by-Gramma sweater into a rough bundle and pushed it into the belly of the backpack waiting in the little nook at the head of the stairs. <\/p>\n
The bold pink backpack presented a stark contrast to her simple sky blue dress. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips, while at the same time a twinge of uncertainty wiggled its way through her stomach. She\u2019d never used a backpack before. Annika Gehring, her best friend since forever, had helped her pack it with notebooks and pencils and a brand-new protractor\u2014all the things listed on the supply sheet from the high school in Salina. They had giggled while organizing the bag, making use of each of its many pockets. <\/p>\n
Katy sighed. A part of her wished that Annika was coming to high school and part of her was glad to be going alone. If she made a fool of herself, no one from the Mennonite fellowship would be there to see. And as much as she loved Annika, whatever the girl saw she reported. <\/p>\n
\u201cKaty-girl!\u201d Dad\u2019s voice carried from the yard through the open windows. <\/p>\n
Would Dad ever drop that babyish nickname? If he called her Katy-girl in front of any of the high school kids, she\u2019d die from embarrassment. \u201cI\u2019m coming!\u201d She yanked up the backpack and pushed her arms through the straps. The backpack\u2019s tug on her shoulders felt strange and yet exhila-rating. She ran down the stairs, the ribbons from her mesh headcovering fluttering against her neck and the backpack bouncing on her spine \u2014one familiar feeling and one new feeling, all at once. The combination almost made her dizzy. She tossed the backpack onto the seat of her dad\u2019s blue pickup and climbed in beside it. As he pulled away from their dairy farm onto the dirt road that led to the highway, she rolled down the window. Dust billowed behind the tires, drifting into the cab. Katy coughed, but she hugged her backpack to her stomach and let the morning air hit her full in the face. She loved the smell of morning, before the day got so hot it melted away the fresh scent of dew. <\/p>\n
The truck rumbled past the one-room schoolhouse where Katy had attended first through ninth grades. Given the early hour, no kids cluttered the schoolyard. But in her imagination she saw older kids pushing little kids on the swings, kids waiting for a turn on the warped teeter-totter, and Caleb Penner chasing the girls with a wiggly earthworm and making them scream. Caleb had chased her many times, waving an earthworm or a fat beetle. He\u2019d never made her scream, though. Bugs didn\u2019t bother Katy. She only feared a few things. Like tornadoes. And people leaving and not coming back. <\/p>\n
A sigh drifted from Dad\u2019s side of the seat. She turned to face him, noting his somber expression. Dad always looked serious. And tired. Running the dairy farm as well as a household without the help of a wife had aged him. For a moment guilt pricked at Katy\u2019s conscience. She was supposed to stay home and help her family, like all the other Old Order girls when they finished ninth grade. <\/p>\n
But the familiar spiral of longing \u2014to learn more, to see what existed outside the limited expanse of Schell-berg\u2014wound its way through her middle. Her fingernails bit into the palms of her hands as she clenched her fists. She had to go. This opportunity, granted to no one else in her little community, was too precious to squander. <\/p>\n
\u201cDad?\u201d She waited until he glanced at her. \u201cStop worrying.\u201d <\/p>\n
His eyebrows shot up, meeting the brim of his billed cap. \u201cI\u2019m not worrying.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cYes, you are. You\u2019ve been worrying all morning. Wor-rying ever since the deacons said I could go.\u201d Katy under-stood his worry. <\/p>\n
She\u2019d heard the speculative whispers when the Menno-nite fellowship learned that Katy had been granted permis-sion to attend the high school in Salina: \u201cWill she be Kath-leen\u2019s girl through and through?\u201d But she was determined to prove the worriers wrong. She could attend public school, could be with worldly people, and still maintain her faith. Hadn\u2019t she been the only girl at the community school to face Caleb\u2019s taunting bugs without flinching? She was strong. <\/p>\n
She gave Dad\u2019s shoulder a teasing nudge with her fist. \u201cI\u2019ll be all right, you know.\u201d <\/p>\n
His lips twitched. \u201cI\u2019m not worried about you, Katy-girl.\u201d <\/p>\n
He was lying, but Katy didn\u2019t argue. She never talked back to Dad. If she got upset with him, she wrote the words in her journal to get them out of her head, and then she tore the page into tiny bits and threw the pieces away. She\u2019d started the practice shortly after she turned thirteen. <\/p>\n
Before then, he\u2019d never done anything wrong. Sometimes she wondered if he\u2019d changed or she had, but it didn\u2019t mat-ter much. She didn\u2019t like feeling upset with him \u2014he was all she had \u2014so she tried to get rid of her anger quickly. <\/p>\n
They reached the highway, and Dad parked the pickup on the shoulder. He turned the key, and the engine splut-tered before falling silent. Dad aimed his face out his side window, his elbow propped on the sill. Wind whistled through the open windows and birds trilled a morning song from one of the empty wheat fields that flanked the pickup. The sounds were familiar\u2014a symphony of nature she\u2019d heard since infancy\u2014but today they carried a poi-gnancy that put a lump in Katy\u2019s throat. <\/p>\n
Why had she experienced such a strange reaction to wind and birds? She would explore it in her journal before she went to bed this evening. Words \u2014secretive whispers, melodious trill\u2014cluttered her mind. Maybe she\u2019d write a poem about it too, if she wasn\u2019t too tired from her first day at school. <\/p>\n
Cars crested the gentle rise in the black-topped high-way and zinged by\u2014sports cars and big SUVs, so differ-ent from the plain black or blue Mennonite pickups and sedans that filled the church lot on Sunday mornings in Schellberg. When would the big yellow bus appear? Katy had been warned it wouldn\u2019t be able to wait for her. Might it have come and gone already? Her stomach fluttered as fear took hold. <\/p>\n
Dad suddenly whirled to face her. \u201cDo you have your lunch money?\u201d <\/p>\n
She patted the small zipper pocket on the front of the backpack. \u201cRight here.\u201d She hunched her shoulders and giggled. \u201cIt feels funny not to carry a lunchbox.\u201d For as far back as she could remember, Katy had carried a lunch she\u2019d packed for herself since she didn\u2019t have a mother to do it for her. <\/p>\n
\u201cYes, but you heard the lady in the school office.\u201d Dad drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. \u201cShe said the kids at this school eat in the cafeteria or go out to eat.\u201d <\/p>\n
Embarrassment crept over Katy as she remembered the day they\u2019d visited the school. When the secretary told Dad about the school lunch program, he\u2019d insisted on reading the lunch menu from beginning to end before agreeing to let his daughter eat \u201cschool-made food.\u201d <\/p>\n
Truthfully, the menu had looked more enticing than her customary peanut butter sandwich, but Dad had acted as though he thought someone might try to poison her. She\u2019d filled three pages, front and back, in her journal over the incident before tearing the well-scribbled pages into min-iscule bits of litter. But \u2014satisfaction welled\u2014Dad had purchased a lunch ticket after all. <\/p>\n
The wind tossed the satin ribbons dangling from the mesh cap that covered her heavy coil of hair. They tickled her chin. She hooked the ribbons in the neck of her dress and then brushed dust from the skirt of her homemade dress. An errant thought formed. I\u2019m glad I\u2019ll be eating cafeteria food like a regular high school kid. It might be only way I don\u2019t stick out. <\/p>\n
Dad cleared his throat. \u201cThere she comes.\u201d <\/p>\n
The school bus rolled toward them. The sun glared off the wide windshield, nearly hiding the monstrous vehicle from view. Katy threw her door open and stepped out, carrying the backpack on her hip as if it were one of her toddler cousins. She sucked in a breath of dismay when Dad met her at the hood of the pickup and reached for her hand. <\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s okay, Dad.\u201d She smiled at him even though her stomach suddenly felt as though it might return those ba-nana-pecan pancakes at any minute. \u201cI can get on okay.\u201d
The bus\u2019s wide rubber tires crunched on the gravel as it rolled to a stop at the intersection. Giggles carried from in-side the bus when Dad walked Katy to the open door. Katy cringed, trying discreetly pull her hand free, but Dad kept hold and gave the bus driver a serious look. <\/p>\n
\u201cThis is my daughter, Katy Lambright.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cKathleen Lambright,\u201d Katy corrected. Hadn\u2019t she told Dad she wanted to be Kathleen at the new school instead of the childish Katy? Dad wasn\u2019t in favor, and Katy knew why. She would let him continue to call her Katy\u2014or Katy-girl, the nickname he\u2019d given her before she was old enough to sit up\u2014but to the Outside, she was Kathleen.
Dad frowned at the interruption, but he repeated, \u201cKathleen Lambright. She is attending Salina High North.\u201d <\/p>\n
The driver, an older lady with soft white hair cut short and brushed back from her rosy face, looked a little bit like Gramma Ruthie around her eyes. But Gramma would never wear blue jeans or a bright yellow polka-dotted shirt. One side of the driver\u2019s mouth quirked up higher than the other when she smiled, giving her an impish look. \u201cWell, come on aboard, Katy Kathleen Lambright. We have a schedule to keep.\u201d <\/p>\n
Another titter swept through the bus. Dad leaned to-ward Katy, as if he planned to hug her good-bye. Katy ducked away and darted onto the bus. When she glanced back, she glimpsed the hurt in Dad\u2019s eyes, and guilt hit her hard. This day wasn\u2019t easy for him. She spun to dash back out and let him hug her after all, but the driver pulled a lever that closed the door, sealing her away from her father. <\/p>\n
Suddenly the reality of what she was doing \u2014leaving the security of her little community, her dad, and all that was familiar\u2014washed over her, and for one brief moment she wanted to claw the doors open and dive into the refuge of Dad\u2019s arms, just as she used to do when she was little and frightened by a windstorm. <\/p>\n
\u201cHave a seat, Kathleen,\u201d the driver said. <\/p>\n
Through the window, Katy watched Dad climb back into the pickup. His face looked so sad, her heart hurt. She felt a sting at the back of her nose \u2014a sure sign that tears were coming. She sniffed hard. <\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019ve got to sit down, or we can\u2019t go.\u201d Impatience colored the driver\u2019s tone. She pushed her foot against the gas pedal, and the bus engine roared in eagerness. More giggles erupted from the kids on the bus. <\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m sorry, ma\u2019am.\u201d Katy quickly scanned the seats. Most of them were already filled with kids. The passen-gers all looked her up and down, some smirking, and some staring with their mouths hanging open. She could imagine them wondering what she was doing on their bus. She\u2019d be the first Mennonite student to attend one of the Salina schools. She lifted her chin. Well, they\u2019ll just have to get used to me.
Katy ignored the gawks and searched faces. She had hoped to sit with someone her own age, but none of the kids looked to be more than twelve or thirteen. Finally she spotted an open seat toward the middle on the right. She dropped into it, sliding the backpack into the empty space beside her. <\/p>\n
The bus jolted back onto the highway with a crunch of tires on gravel. The two little girls in the seat in front of Katy turned around and stared with round, wide eyes. Katy smiled, but they didn\u2019t smile back. So she raised her eyebrows high and waggled her tongue, the face she used to get her baby cousin Trent to stop crying. The little girls made the same face back, giggled, and turned forward again.
Throughout the bus, kids talked and laughed, at ease with each other. Katy sat alone, silent and invisible. The bus bounced worse than Dad\u2019s pickup, and her stomach felt queasier with each mile covered. She swallowed and swallowed to keep the banana-pecan pancakes in place. Think about something else . . . <\/p>\n
High school. Her heart fluttered. Public high school. A smile tugged on the corners of her lips. Classes like botany and music appreciation and literature. Literature . . . <\/p>\n
When she\u2019d shown Annika the list of classes selected for her sophomore year at Salina High North, Annika had shaken her head and made a face. \u201cThey sound hard. Why do you want to study more anyway? You\u2019re weird, Katy.\u201d <\/p>\n
Remembering her friend\u2019s words made her nose sting again. Annika had been Katy\u2019s best friend ever since the first grade when the teacher plunked them together on a little bench at the front of the schoolroom, but despite their lengthy and close friendship, Annika didn\u2019t understand Katy. <\/p>\n
Katy stared out the window, biting her lower lip and fighting an uncomfortable realization. Katy didn\u2019t under-stand herself. A ninth grade education seemed to satisfy everyone else in her community, so why wasn\u2019t it enough for her? <\/p>\n
Why were questions always swirling through her brain? She could still hear her teacher\u2019s voice in her memory: \u201cKaty, Katy, your many questions make me tired.\u201d Why did words mean so much to her? None of her Menno-nite friends had to write their thoughts in a spiral-bound notebook to keep from exploding. Katy couldn\u2019t begin to explain why. And she knew, even without asking, that was what scared Dad the most. She shook her head, hug-ging her backpack to her thudding heart. He didn\u2019t need to be worried. She loved Dad, loved being a Mennonite girl, loved Schellberg and its wooden chapel of fellowship where she felt close to God and to her neighbors. Besides, the deacons had been very clear when they gave her permission to attend high school. If she picked up worldly habits, attending school would come to an abrupt and per-manent end. <\/p>\n
A prayer automatically winged through her heart: God, guide me in this learning, but keep me humble. Help me remember what Dad read from Your Word last night during our prayer time: that a man profits nothing if he gains the world but loses his soul.
The bus pulled in front of the tan brick building that she and Dad had visited two weeks earlier when they enrolled her in school. On that day, the campus had been empty except for a few cars and two men in blue uniforms standing in the shade of a tall pine tree, smoking ciga-rettes. Dad had hurried her right past them. Today, how-
ever, the parking lot overflowed with vehicles in a variety of colors, makes, and models. People\u2014people her age, not like the kids on the school bus \u2014stood in little groups all over the grassy yard, talking and laughing. <\/p>\n
Katy stared out the window, her mouth dry. Most of the students had backpacks, but none sporting bold colors like hers. Their backpacks were Mennonite-approved colors: dark blue, green, and lots and lots of black. Should she have selected a plain-colored backpack? Aunt Rebecca had clicked her tongue at Katy\u2019s choice, but the pink one was so pretty, so different from her plain dresses . . . Her hands started to shake. <\/p>\n
\u201cKathleen?\u201d The bus driver turned backward in her seat. \u201cC\u2019mon, honey, scoot on off. I got three more stops to make.\u201d <\/p>\n
Katy quickly slipped her arms through the backpack\u2019s straps and scuttled off the bus. The door squealed shut behind her, and the bus pulled away with a growl and a thick cloud of strong-smelling smoke. Katy stood on the sidewalk, facing the school. She twisted a ribbon from her cap around her finger, wondering where she should go. The main building? That seemed a logical choice. She took one step forward but then froze, her skin prickling with awareness. <\/p>\n
All across the yard, voices faded. Faces turned one-by-one\u2014a field of faces \u2014all aiming in her direction. She heard a shrill giggle\u2014her own. Her response to nervousness. <\/p>\n
Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the pull on the other kids faded. They turned back to their own groups as if she no longer existed. With a sigh, she resumed her progress toward the main building, turning sideways to ease between groups, sometimes bumping people with her backpack, mumbling apologies and flashing shy smiles. She\u2019d worked her way halfway across the yard when an ear-piercing clang filled the air. The fine hairs on her arms prickled, and she stopped as suddenly as if she\u2019d slammed into the solid brick wall of the school building. <\/p>\n
The other kids all began moving, flinging their back-packs over one shoulder and pushing at one another. Katy got swept along with the throng, jostled and bumped like everyone else. Her racing heartbeat seemed to pound a message: This is IT! This is IT! High school! <\/p><\/div>\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
This book was a cute, fun, read, especially for teenaged girls. I felt that the author did a great job with tapping into adolescent feelings. Katy is a curious girl, always asking questions. A ninth grade education does not satisfy her inquisitive mind, so she asks permission to attend the local high school. However, her […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":false,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[26,38,48,16],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-477","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-amish-and-plain","category-first-wild-card-blog-tour","category-ya-title","category-zondervan"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/paovYP-7H","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/477","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=477"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/477\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=477"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=477"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/ceceliadowdy.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=477"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
![\"\"](\"http:\/\/3.bp.blogspot.com\/_cESuxv-WNX8\/SAad94Trj7I\/AAAAAAAAArA\/Yn05_E4V0fY\/s200\/wild+card.jpg\")
<\/a><\/a>It is time for a FIRST Wild Card Tour<\/a><\/span><\/strong> book review! If you wish to join the FIRST blog alliance, just click the button. We are a group of reviewers who tour Christian books. A Wild Card post includes a brief bio of the author and a full chapter from each book toured. The reason it is called a FIRST Wild Card Tour is that you never know if the book will be fiction, non~fiction, for young, or for old…or for somewhere in between! Enjoy your free peek into the book!<\/strong><\/span><\/p>\n![\"\"id=\"BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433400732771836946\"](\"http:\/\/1.bp.blogspot.com\/_cESuxv-WNX8\/S2dRLdc2ZBI\/AAAAAAAADoI\/zB7Ld7qYfrs\/s200\/Kim.jpg\")
<\/a>Bestselling, award-winning author Kim Vogel Sawyer wears many hats besides \u201cwriter.\u201d As a wife, mother, grandmother, and active participant in her church, her life is happily full. But Kim\u2019s passion lies in writing stories of hope that encourage her readers to place their lives in God\u2019s capable hands. An active speaking ministry assists her with her desire. Kim and her husband make their home on the beautiful plains of Kansas, the setting for many of Kim\u2019s novels.<\/p>\n![\"\"id=\"BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433400836427859410\"](\"http:\/\/2.bp.blogspot.com\/_cESuxv-WNX8\/S2dRRfmXxdI\/AAAAAAAADoQ\/QvApMESNFvw\/s200\/katy%27s+new+world.gif\")
<\/a><\/p>\n![](\"http:\/\/3.bp.blogspot.com\/_cESuxv-WNX8\/SAad94Trj7I\/AAAAAAAAArA\/Yn05_E4V0fY\/s1600-h\/wild+card.jpg\"){kind=link}