Immaculate

“That woman,” my mom muttered, squinting at the screen. “I swear, she thinks she’s the damn mayor of this town.”

We sat in silence while the reporter walked outside of the firehouse to show us the parking lot, which was even more crowded than I could have imagined—a rowdy line of people winding around the side of the building, others bundled up and crammed in lawn chairs set outside of their cars. One man actually seemed to have some sort of electric grill propped up on the bed of his truck, a handwritten sign on it advertising two-dollar hot dogs and sausage sandwiches. It was surreal, completely surreal, like some sort of bizarre tailgate leading up to the big event, only there was no epic sports game or performer set to hit the stage. They were there for me—to attack me or to support me. I did, thankfully, see some pro-Mina ba

We were shifted back into the main room, which Tana was now presiding over, standing behind a makeshift raised podium in the front. She had on a crisp tweed pantsuit and pearls, and I’d have bet money that she’d gone to the salon for a blowout in honor of the big day, with her brassy gold hair so flawlessly bobbed around her chin.

“We are here in this town today”—she looked around the room, hands raised in welcoming—“for one reason. We are here because of Mina Dietrich—because of the lies and the slander of our religions, the abomination of our sacred beliefs that has persisted for months now. Despite our different backgrounds, our different faiths, and our different scriptures, we are here because our morals and our ethics align. We are here because together we are stronger—together we can help to put an end to the lies. Together we can succeed in cleansing this town, our nation, the world. Mina Dietrich must come to understand that her lies must end, especially as we continue to watch others fall blindly into her deception, the increasing number of supporters who are even here amongst us today. They have deceived themselves into honoring this false idol, making a mockery of the truths of our religions that we hold so dear.

“We have gathered here to extend our request. We ask that Mina Dietrich publicly admit that this child was not conceived from some higher power. We ask that she back down from her claims and remove herself from the public eye, before any more i

“And now . . . we march. We march to Mina’s house and we make our requests known. We will stand proud, united, and determined for as long as necessary to achieve our victory.” Anxious murmurs hissed across the banquet room, punctuated by enthusiastic whistles and catcalls.

Our living room, however, was silent except for the ticking of the grandfather clock and the sound of our own heavy breathing. No matter how many breaths I took, I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs, and pinpricks of black seemed to float in and out of my vision. I blinked, trying to recall everything that I’d just heard.

Tana, the protesters, coming to my house.

My dad was out on the porch yelling at the police officers before I’d even realized he’d left the living room, and he sounded more upset—more scared—than I’d ever heard him in my life.

“What now?” I whispered. “We just wait? How are what, all five maybe, of the Green Hill cops going to handle them?”

I should have left town, should have taken my dad’s advice more seriously. My baby was in danger now. We all were.

“They’re not going to come inside, Mina. We’re fine as long as we stay here,” my mom said, though her voice sounded even flimsier than mine. “The cops will get it sorted, I’m sure. These people can’t just camp out on our lawn forever.”

“I don’t want them here at all,” I said, trying to ignore the frantic pounding of my heart against my rib cage. “I don’t want them anywhere near me and the baby.”

“Damn it!” my dad erupted, slamming the front door behind him and stomping back into the living room. “Damn them, damn all of them!”

The next five, ten, fifteen minutes passed in slow motion, the pause between each tick of the clock seeming to stretch longer than the one before it. The live stream had stopped abruptly amid the chaos of the crowd’s mass exodus, and an infomercial was airing instead. The reporter had apologized, explaining that they’d be back on the scene as soon as they’d relocated to the next destination. Hopewell Lane, our home.

Two more cop cars had pulled into the driveway, and the officers were powwowing with speakerphones in hand out front. My dad and Izzy checked all the locks before standing watch, my dad by the bay window in the kitchen and Izzy peeking out the glass windows framing our front door. The rest of them seemed to subconsciously circle in on me tight like a cocoon, as if their presence was enough to keep me safe and untouched.

But then I heard it, we all did—the sound of voices yelling in unison in the distance, the roar growing louder and louder until Izzy screamed, “They’re here!” and we all stared, dazed, down the hallway that led to the door.

“They’re in our driveway!” my dad yelled from the kitchen. “They’re standing on our goddamn property! Why aren’t the cops bombing them with tear gas?”

I stood up without deciding to move, my curiosity yanking me toward the front of the house. I had to watch them for myself, because the idea of not seeing the enemy, not knowing their exact moves as they made them, was even scarier than whatever image was waiting for me outside.

I stepped behind Izzy, and she shifted to make room for me in front of the glass panes, wrapping her arm around my waist as we watched together. Tana Fritz was leading the procession, megaphone to her lips as she repeated the same line, over and over, the words crashing against me harder and angrier each time: “Give up the truth and give up the baby, give up the truth and give up the baby, give up . . .”

Jesse and Ha

I spotted Stella as she pushed farther toward where the protesters stood, her OPEN HEARTS, OPEN MINDS FOR MINA sign flapping high in her outstretched arms above her head. Her dark braided hair, threaded with strands of glowing copper, was loose around her face, and she looked fierce as she fought to scream over the megaphones. In a move that happened so fast I nearly missed it with a blink, Stella was on top of Tana as they both tumbled to the ground.

After a split second of stu