The Mission Call: Chapter One
The Carter Family Series · Book 2 · by B. A. Lumin
Chapter 1
The ice in Renee Carter's smoothie had given up, melted to tired pebbles that bumped her straw when she stirred the pink slush. Condensation slid down the cup and pooled into a ring that stuck to her forearm when she leaned in. The air conditioning found her knees anyway, a steady gust crawling under the denim hem of her shorts that raised goosebumps. Somewhere close, fries smelled amazing—hot oil, salt, a ketchup tang that pricked the back of her throat—and a toddler shriek-laughed two tables over, the sound ricocheting off tile and metal chairs.
"Renee. Hello?" Fingers snapped in front of her face—nails tipped in glittery blue, flicking once, twice.
She looked up. Light caught the rhinestones on Kaylee's bracelets and scattered across the tabletop. "What?"
"I asked if you're coming to my sleepover," Kaylee said, like it was the third time. The straw in her mango smoothie made a hollow, scraping slurp. Her ice had surrendered too. "Next weekend?"
"Oh. Maybe. Sorry." Renee sat up and tucked a piece of hair back, a practiced little motion that didn't fix the way the bobby pin pressed a dot into her scalp.
"Focus," Harper said, her ponytail swinging like a metronome set to bossy. "We have to plan summer. Two more weeks of school, then freedom."
Emma had her phone open, a calendar app full of pastel blocks. "Shared calendar time," she announced, tapping with careful nails painted with tiny clouds. "Go." Beside her, Becca picked the croutons off a food-court salad, saving them for last.
The words came all at once, a fast braid of plans. Water park the first Saturday of freedom. A July birthday pool party with a new unicorn float. Cheer camp the last two weeks of July—Harper had the packing list saved in three places. Taylor Swift in August, non-negotiable. A cousin's lake house in late June.
The sweep of it made Renee feel lighter. Summer looked wide and bright in her head: no 6 a.m. alarms, no cold cafeteria milk cartons. Sun and floaties and time. Her shoulders dropped the last week of school like a heavy backpack sliding off. She thumbed open her own calendar, her thumb hovering over a private marker on one week. "I'm in for all that," she said, smiling. "I do have church camp the second week of July."
"Church camp?" Harper wrinkled her nose. "Like, kumbaya?"
"It's not like that," Renee said, heat creeping up her neck. "We do normal camp stuff. And yeah, worship, but it's… good. Last year we did a prayer walk under the stars and it was—" She searched for a word that would fit at this table and came up empty. "Quiet."
The word sat there, small and honest. It didn't cover how that night smelled of pine and damp dirt, how the gravel crunched under their sneakers, or how the cool air wrapped her arms and made her feel awake in a different way. It didn't explain the tea lights unlit in their palms, or the low chorus of frogs along the shore. Or how, if she tilted her head back far enough, the whole sky spilled down until she could have sworn it was listening.
Kaylee snorted into her straw. "Only you would call a prayer walk fun."
"It is for me," Renee said, trying to laugh with it. "Anyway, I'll be back before your party."
"Good," Harper said, thumbs flying over her screen, serious about RSVP lists. "Also: Claire's end-of-school bash next Friday."
Emma nodded. "Parents out of town. Big sister in charge."
"Big sister who bought beer for the seniors at prom," Kaylee added, clearly pleased with herself.
Renee shifted, the chair's rubber feet complaining against the tile. "I might not make that one. I have… something."
"What beats the party of the year?" Harper asked, her eyebrows so high they almost touched her bangs.
Renee picked at the sleeve of her T-shirt until a thread lifted. "Mission committee. At church."
A pause pinched the air. Then Kaylee laughed. "You're skipping a party for a meeting? Who are you, forty?"
Renee's face went hot, the blush spreading down her neck until her collar felt tight. "It matters. We're talking about a summer trip to Guatemala."
"Is that safe?" Becca asked softly, her fork stopping over the salad. "I saw a video about earthquakes."
"And cartels," Harper tossed in.
"It's not like a movie," Renee said, the words coming out fast. "We'd be helping with a school build and doing a kids' program. We'll practice Spanish. It's with people who live there, not just us barging in." Flashes came with the sentence: cinder blocks stacked, paint cans with dried rings around their rims, a circle of kids singing a song with hand motions.
Kaylee leaned back, studying her. "I don't get why you're so into church. We're thirteen. We're supposed to have fun, not, like, fix the planet."
Something pulled tight under Renee's ribs, a drawstring cinched a notch too far. "Maybe this is fun. To me." It sounded small again, but stubborn.
Harper rolled her eyes. "You're just trying to impress Jenna's missionary parents so they'll take you somewhere cool."
That one stung, like bumping a shin she'd already bruised. She liked the Martinez family because they did the things they talked about. Jenna's dad came to youth group with paint on his elbows and just asked who could haul lumber Saturday morning. "It's not about them," she said, quieter. "I care."
"Okay, okay," Kaylee said, flicking her hand as if the topic were a fly. "Just don't start preaching at us. You are coming to Taylor, right?"
"Yes," Renee said. "My mom said yes."
They shifted to outfit ideas, shiny cover-ups and glitter sandals that squeaked. Renee threw in a couple of suggestions and smiled at the right times, but her laughs came a beat late. They thought church was a weird hobby, like collecting stamps. It wasn't. It was the part of her that felt steady, that made sense when friend-language included sighs she couldn't always translate.
"Renee," Harper said suddenly, her focus a laser. "My pool party. You're coming. Yes?"
"Yeah. Wouldn't miss it."
While they ranked salt delivery systems, Renee checked the time. The mission committee didn't start right at 6:30, but being early mattered. Pastor Williams had mentioned youth leadership spots last week. We need people who show up when they say they will, he'd said. She wanted one of those spots. Not for a resume. Just because showing up felt like a thing she could promise and then do.
"I should go in a minute," she said. "My mom's picking me up."
"For your church thing," Kaylee groaned, leaning back until her chair tipped. "You're like two different people. School Renee is chill. Church Renee is… cape and clipboard."
The words landed harder than they should have. Maybe because they were a little true. At school she stayed quiet until she could be funny. At church she wrote names on a sign-in sheet and told third graders which hallway had the bathroom like she owned the building. Both felt like her, and neither fit at this table.
"It's all me," she said, wrapping her fingers around her empty cup. The plastic was cool and a little sticky.
"Whatever makes you happy," Harper said with a shrug that meant, You're weird, but fine. "Text me about Friday."
"I will."
Renee stood, the chair legs scraping. She dropped her cup in the trash and slung her bag over her shoulder, the strap cutting into the spot near her collarbone.
Her phone buzzed in her back pocket. Mom: Out front in five.
She texted back, Coming, then headed for the doors.
The sliding doors whispered apart, and the outside air hugged her face, thick and humid. Heat rose from the blacktop in a visible shimmer. Her reflection in the glass looked like two halves pressed together: braid neat in the back, T-shirt knotted casual in the front. Her stomach gave a small, traitorous flip at the thought of Claire's party. She wanted to dance under string lights and laugh at jokes that didn't require footnotes. She also wanted to sit in a folding chair in the church's multipurpose room that smelled of coffee and old hymnals, to hear adults talk about budgets and flights and vaccines, and to feel her mouth say yes before her brain could add reasons.
A silver Honda pulled up, and Mom leaned across to open the passenger door, giving a little wave that said simply, I'm here. Renee smiled and slid into the seat, the fabric hot where the sun had been.
"How was it?" Mom asked, pulling away from the curb. "Everybody's summer all planned by a committee?"
"Mostly." Renee tucked her bag by her feet. "They want me at everything. There's a party at Claire's next Friday. But I told them I have the mission committee."
Mom's mouth did a small thing that wasn't a frown or a smile. A recognition. "We'll be glad to have you."
"I want to go," Renee said, leaning forward before she lost her nerve. "I mean, I want both. But the meeting's important. Pastor Williams is talking about youth leadership spots. He said he needs people who actually show up."
"That sounds like you," Mom said. She reached across the gearshift for Renee's hand and squeezed, a quick press that left warmth behind.
Renee nodded, a bubble of relief rising. The mall slid away in the rearview mirror. She'd been two different people at that table because it made things easier. But sitting here, the car smelling of lotion and home somewhere at the end of this road, the two pieces didn't feel like halves. They felt like hands that could hold the same thing, if she didn't squeeze too tight.
The light turned green. Mom's fingers tapped the steering wheel to a song on the radio. Renee rested her forehead against the cool window, watching the world blur past.
Renee wrapped both hands around the strap of her bag and held on lightly. Then she sat back and let the AC run over her knees until the goosebumps went away.