“Tell me again about the welcome buffet,” Gabi huffed as she curled toward Mathew in a crunch. He was holding her feet and regaling her with tales of the glorious food on offer at Youth Consecration Camp. This was their last workout for a few days since Gabi would be at camp all weekend, and Mathew would be on lockdown in his room studying for the Witness exam. In years past, he had served as one of the youth counselors, but he’d chosen to skip it this year in favor of getting an edge on the competition. He was still weak in cross-cultural conflict resolution, conversion tactics, and orienteering, though Gabi had been heartlessly drilling him on all three for the past month. She didn’t relish the thought of being at camp without him, but hearing about the food definitely helped.
“Have you ever seen meat on the bone, Gab? Well, let me tell you, it is the juiciest, most tender thing in the world, and there are platters of it, like, for miles. Hey! Did I say you could stop? Flip over, and give me a plank. Here, we’ll do it together.” Gabi groaned and rolled over, raising her torso up on bent forearms and levering the rest of her body up by pressing into the balls of her feet. Mathew assumed his position in one fluid motion so they were shoulder to shoulder. “Right, so where was I? Oh, yeah, the meat. Incredible. Then there are all kinds of baked dishes with cheese, real cheese, gooey all over the top instead of the fake rubbery stuff we usually get. I don’t know where this stuff comes from, but there are vegetables that crunch when you bite into them and fresh apples, not dried. Oh, man, I could go for a juicy apple right now.” Gabi was shaking all over, her arms about to give out. On cue Mathew said, “Give me sixty more seconds and I’ll tell you about dessert.”
“Go.” It was all Gabi could choke out. She’d be lucky if she would ever be able to get up off the floor again.
“Ice cream, Gabs, just like they have at the temple cafeteria on holy days. Cakes, pies, cookies, and pans of this chocolate stuff that’s like cake but better. Denser. Hey, do you think you could stash some in a napkin and bring it back? Just tell ’em it’s for your big bro, and they won’t stop you. They love me there.”
Gabi’s arms turned to mush, and her quadriceps spasmed as she thumped to the floor. Mathew was still in his perfect plank, not even sweating.
“Good thing somebody loves you,” she gasped. “If you wanted me to steal you goodies, you should have thought of that before you broke my arms.”
Mathew rolled onto his side and laughed. “No pain, no gain. But seriously, you’re really coming along, Gabs. Those stronger meds must have helped you turn a corner.”
“Yeah, right,” Gabi snorted, then bit her lip, praying Mathew hadn’t heard her. No such luck. Mathew raised up on his elbow and prodded her in the ribs.
“Hey, what did you mean by that?”
She rolled over and looked up into his face. They’d been spending so much time together, training and prepping Mathew for the written exam. He had no idea that Gabi was soaking in all the material for when she would take the test herself. Though he was still fueled by his passion to serve the fellowship, Mathew had been less pushy and pious with her than he was right after Gram died. Maybe Gabi could trust him with just this one thing?
“If I tell you something, you have to promise me you won’t tell Dad. I mean it.” Admitting she had a secret from Sam was a risk. Mathew worshipped his father, a reverence unscathed by the usual teenage rebellions.
He frowned as he sat up to face her on the carpet. “Why would you keep something from Dad?”
“Because he wouldn’t understand. Remember how you felt when he told you that you couldn’t sit for the Witness exam two years ago? That you had to wait?” Gabi felt bad bringing it up. Gram had barely managed to keep peace in the house while that debate was raging, and Mathew had been surly and short with everyone for months after Sam issued his ultimatum. “Yeah, I remember.” Mathew stared at the rug, then raised his eyes to hers. “You can tell me, Gab. I won’t say anything. I promise.”
Gabi reached out to pull his natal Bible off the coffee table. “Swear on this.”
“Come on, Gab.”
“Swear.”
With a show of extreme reluctance, he placed his hand over the gold lettering. “I swear,” he grumbled.
“I’m not taking my pills anymore.”
Mathew bolted to his feet. “Are you crazy? You could die! Where are they? You have to take them right now! Or, no, we’ll get you to the Care Center for an IV. That’s faster.”
“I’m fine!” Gabi yelled, tugging at Mathew’s hand where it flapped at his side. “Sit down, will you. My neck hurts, and you’re making it worse.”
“Of course your neck hurts. You should be dead! I could have killed you with all this exercise! You’re not taking your pills, and you’ve been letting me—we’ve been doing all this—I’m taking you to the Care Center.” Mathew hauled Gabi to her feet and dragged her toward the door. The sweat slicking her wrist allowed her to slip out
