Squinting, Cricket dragged her cart of scrap past the barbed wire fence. Burn pit smoke always made her eyes sting. Havers in the watchtower gave her a friendly nod. Waving her rifle, the tern made the sign of the day. Cricket headed towards the fire. Her grandmother would be waiting.

“Mind the embers, baby girl,” Gran said.

“I’m smart enough to not get toasted.”

Cricket knew Gran was glad she made it home safe from the outer lands. Slender flames poked up among the ash. Over by the greenhouses, a bell rang. Cricket had hurried back to attend the Faraday revival. She didn’t believe in that Great Spirit hooey but Tuck said Faraday had some interesting ideas on the natural order of things. Besides Cricket thought Tuck was kind of cute.

She felt Gran’s eyes on her. Arms crossed, Cricket faced the old woman. At nearly fourteen, Cricket knew what was best for her life. Gran wasn’t looking at her; her eyes were laser focused on Faraday bible in hand, ringing a hand bell. Cricket wondered how her eyes didn’t cry.

“After the sort, I’m heading over to Britta’s.”

Glancing at her granddaughter, Gran returned to overseeing the burn. The lie was grit in Cricket’s mouth. Her grandmother was looking beyond th smoke. They stood in the warmth for silence. Cricket turned to go.

“Two things, baby girl. First, measure a man by his mind and his meat.”

Blushing Cricket turned away.

“Don’t bother with words. Watch his plans what he builds for himself, what he reads and believes that’s his mind. His meat is his whole body listen to how his body makes yours feel. Your gut knows who to trust.”

Chuckling, Cricket lifted her cart. She hoped there was washing water left.

“Second, never try to lie to me, baby girl, never to me. See you for supper, Tommy’s making your favorite.”