“Nothing here is sacred, safe, or sane,” Primrose said solemnly as the spire’s shadow split her grim vestige.

“Jesus, Rosie will you just lift your damn end up. The bake sale is in two hours,” Poppy said.

Exhaling a cloud, Primrose pocketed her vape and hoisted the conference table. There were 37 reasons she despised being a preacher’s kid. Number 18 was being expected to be unpaid labor for every jumble, book sale, coat drive, soup for Election Day that the church ladies dreamt up.

“Okay Poppa Smurf but I ain’t walking backwards,” Primrose said.

Grunting the girls carried the table from the hall towards the church. Some old bitty had the brilliant idea to host the event in the church dining room. It was a dreary drizzling Saturday, a perfect day to lay under two comforters and doom scroll till dinner. Now she was shuffling in her Wednesday Addams PJs carrying furniture like a serf. They negotiated the turn of the century death stairs.

“Poppy!” Someone croaked from behind her.

Reason 3 Primrose hated being PK was asshat church people. The mindless small talk, the unsolicited opinions, just the thought of Coffee Clatch made Primrose’s skin breakout in hives. Her twin could chit chat like a morning show host on whippets. Speeding up, the annoyed fifteen year old pretended she couldn’t hear.

“Oh it’s you Primrose. When I was young lady we cared about our appearance. Does Reverend know what your wearing?”

It was Mrs. Carlton. Head of Methodist Women, choir leader, chair of Parish Relations, Trustee, and seventh circle of hell demon, it was always Mrs. Carlton. Hackles officially raised, Primrose turned to face Mrs. Carlton and her perennial poundcake.

“When you were young, dinosaurs—“

“Dinah Shore, we were just talking about Shore and Doris Day and the chic fashions. Right, Rosie?” Poppy said, warning edging her fake polite tone. “Mind the stairs.”

“If your mother was alive what would she think,” Mrs. Carlton said.

Primrose flung the table down. She whirled on Mrs. Carlton. Holding back a mouthful of profanity she ran back to the parsonage. Under the safety of her comforters, Primrose screamed into her stuffed bear.

Later, after Dad knocked on her door twice once to rap God love him and once for dinner Primrose got out of bed. There was a cold plate of something wrapped in paper towels. The house, quiet. Carrying her plate, Primrose went out and headed behind the sanctuary. With all the things she hated about being a PK, she loved that Poppy and her were in it together.