"I still don't understand why we had to pick a police car."

"Shut up Lorn, it's a family tradition."

"Yeah, well being as you've only known you had a family for just over 48 hours, I doubt now's the time to play the tradition card."

"Quit complaining and hotwire the darn thing," Callie grumbled.

"Aye aye, Captain," Lorna grumbled back, fishing in her purse for her recently-returned pocketknife.

Callie sat on the curb to wait. So far, she reflected, things had been going about as she had been expecting them to. Lorna had successfully been signed away into adulthood, and flanked by her valise and folded garment bag, she called for her first taxicab. They had planned that Callie would join her at this point, but it wasn't until the summoned cab rounded the corner towards them that she appeared at Lorna's side, her own belongings in hand.

"What took you so long?" Lorna had asked.

"I hate fire escapes," Callie recalled muttering.

She examined the fresh scraped knee she'd acquired from the morning's work. Nothing much, which meant a high likelihood of not being noticed. Then again, what was one scraped knee in the grand scheme of things? As the Penguin would have put it, if this was her worst problem, her life was very good indeed.

"How much longer?" she asked her friend.

"Hold your horses," Lorna answered, brandishing her blade. "I gotta use this baby to unlock the door."

" 'Kay." Callie sighed as she looked ahead once more. She still hadn't fully come to grips with the building that they had their backs to: Joliet Correctional Center. When the cabbie announced their passing it, she barely found her voice in time to tell him to stop. She was still in an uncomfortable daze as Lorna handed the driver his money and towed her out. After that, she'd numbly pointed out the lone police vehicle and sat on the street edge, only speaking when spoken to, excepting her last. As Lorna valiantly wrestled with the knife in the lock, Callie stood up and walked closer to the Center's surrounding fence.

"Finally curious, huh?" Lorna asked, half-distracted.

Callie didn't answer. Slowly, she threaded her fingers through the holes in the wire fencing and leaned her head against it. "He died here Lorn," she murmured.

"Beg pardon?" Lorna made another valiant wrench, producing an audible click.

"My dad. Joliet Jake. He died here," Callie repeated.

"And?"

Callie turned to aim a glare in Lorna's direction. "What do you mean, 'and'?"

Lorna sighed. "Joliet Jake Blues died in the Joliet Correctional Center in the early winter of 1998." She gave the knife in the lock one more shove and turned to look Callie in the eye. "You know that, I know that, nearly everyone who follows and believes in the Blues Brothers' legacy knows that. What's your point?"

Callie sniffed, half in contempt and half genuine. "Jake was my dad and it's upsetting me right now. That's the point." She turned back tot the prison, gripping the wires even more fiercely.

"Geez, sorry," Lorna apologized, taking hold of her pocketknife with both hands. "It's just hard to filter sympathy out of the frustration of picking the lock to this police car…"

"That's okay, Lorn," Callie mumbled. She had stopped fully listening after the first few words. Callie blinked, trying to stop herself from tearing up. "I just can't help wondering what all went on in there." She finally unhooked her fingers and turned to face the street, leaning her back against the fence. "You know…" she said, glancing at Lorna.

"Foul play, you mean?" Lorna gave the blade a final twist in the lock, and then pulled it out. "Less likely than you think."

Callie frowned. "And you know this how?"

Lorna stowed the knife as she turned around. "You wanna overanalyze? Fine. Let's take a look at the facts and statistics of Joliet Jake." She looked inquisitively at Callie. "We can guess from the pictures and pants that your dad was a little over size medium, correct?"

Callie half-smiled at the understatement in spite of herself. "Yeah."

"And we can cite details in most of the 'undercover epics' we heard as kids that would brand him a smoker."

"Chesterfields," Callie confirmed.

"Right, whatever. A fancy smoker." Lorna continued more lightly. "And all that added to our earlier confirmation about the fried chicken, I'd say foul play was not the cause of death."

Callie made an indignant noise. "I wasn't talking about how he di-"

Lorna cut her off. "Callie, the great films of our time have indeed proven to us that the jail and justice systems are not as straight-up as they seem. But in this situation, I doubt bloodshed."

"I meant that I don't know anything about him for myself," Callie finished. "All the stuff anyone knows is legend, and who knows how much of that's real?" She sighed, sliding down the fence and sitting. "I'm sorry, I know you were analyzing something. Finish."

Lorna grimaced. "After that, it's gonna seem too light."

Callie waved it off. "No, cause of death, tell me."

Lorna shrugged. "Well, given that your dad was most likely overweight, smoked like a chimney, and ingested at least as much grease as you do, what cause of death screams out to you?"

Callie rolled her eyes. "Heart attack."

"Statistically the most common cause of death in this fine country," Lorna said with a nod, opening the passenger-side car door. "Satisfied, ma'am?"

"Yeah, whatever," said Callie, walking around to the driver's side. She waited while Lorna loaded her own suitcase and garment bag and unlocked the other doors, and then tossed her own case in the backseat and climbed in behind the wheel. "It's just that the phrase 'smokes like a chimney' sounds really nasty when someone else says it."

"Hey, I call 'em as I see 'em," Lorna said, her head once more down over her purse. "Now hold on and give me room a sec- this is where the fun begins."

"Oh yeah." Callie looked cautiously at her friend. "Yeah, I was gonna ask you why you weren't going for the wires already."

"That is because big sister Lorn has a better plan." Smiling, Lorna pulled out a screwdriver. "Apparently, if you jam one of these babies in the ignition hard enough, the key thing breaks and the car starts in spite of itself."

"That's great, Lorn." Callie glanced nervously past Lorna and out the passenger window. "But if you would hurry up and get that going, I think I see a couple uniforms coming out of the Center."

"Gotcha. If you would just lean over please…"

Callie quickly pressed herself into the left side of the car. "This far enough?"

"Yep." Lorna forcefully gripped the screwdriver. "And now…" She attempted to make a show of jamming the metal end of the tool as hard as she could into the ignition slot. Unfortunately, that first attempt made it clear that they weren't destined to be moving very far in the near future.

"Too big," Lorna said in hollow disappointment.

"What do you mean, 'too big'?" Callie gripped the edge of the driver's seat with both hands. "You mean this is it?"

"Of course I don't mean this is it." Lorna put the screwdriver back in her purse. "Get at that panel under the steering section and open it up for me. We've still got time to do it the old-fashioned way."

"Finally." Callie opened her door and got onto her knees just outside the car. "I think I can see it." She looked at Lorna. "We still clear?"

Lorna glanced out the window to her right. "I think so, at least for now. I see those two uniforms you were talking about—looks like they've been standing and talking all this time." She glanced away for a moment to check Callie's progress, and then looked back. "Uh oh."

Callie stopped what she was doing and the panel made an auspicious clunk as it fell open. "What?"

"I think they saw me in the window. They're coming over here."

"Yeah, either you or the driver's door randomly hanging open. Shit." Callie scrambled in and closed and locked the door. "What now?"

Lorna sighed. "Close up that panel and get down as low as you can under the dash."

Callie looked at her friend, shocked. "You're gonna take the fall for this? But you didn't even want to come!"

Lorna ignored her. "People hide things in glove boxes, right?" She squeezed the latch, opening the compartment in front of her.

"Lorn," Callie stage-whispered, "the guards are coming through the fence gate. What are you doing?"

"Being extremely lucky," Lorna answered, strangely calm as she closed the gray glove box. "And keep down. Until I tell you."

Callie didn't have time to ask when that might be, because at that moment, there was a knock on the passenger window. Lorna rolled it down. "Hallo, offitsearen?"

"Miss?" a deep voice addressed her. "Do you have any idea where you are?"

"Hile, offitsear!" Lorna continued. "Ick comme ous dee Germany hoy-te, oond Ick fynde dees Auto gross gross cool."

Callie bit her lower lip from her uncomfortable under-the-dash position. Leave it to Lorna to whip out the drunk German impression. She shifted her eyes to the right. It didn't look like her friend was liable to crack at any moment, like she was every other time she'd employed that coverup, but it also didn't appear that the officer was buying it.

"Miss," he repeated, "please exit the car."

"Nine!" said Lorna. "Dahs eest mine Auto."

"Lorna…" Callie whispered, "it's okay. Do what he says, and I'll go back to Saint Helen's."

"Not on your life," Lorna hissed. "I know what I'm doing."

A chuckle escaped the guard outside her window. "I knew that foreigner act was phony." The officer gave Lorna a strange look, and then a realization appeared to take place. "Hey, wait a minute-" He beckoned his partner. "I think we've got the one the old ladies're looking for."

"We're screwed," Callie mumbled.

"Like hell we are," Lorna mumbled back, slipping something small into her friend's hand.

The second officer looked at Lorna. "Well, she's in the school uniform, so it's highly probable."

The first guard smirked, also looking back at her. "Your name wouldn't happen to be Calloway, would it?"

Lorna smiled. "No, it would not," she responded calmly.

"Don't lie, it ain't good for you," the first guard snapped. "You're obviously the runaway type from that little display you put on just now, so-"

"No, she's telling the truth." The second cop shook his head, jittering slightly as the other whirled on him. "I'I've seen the Calloway girl before. I was at Saint Helen's a few days ago, remember? With the box? She's petite and brown-haired. This girl's blond and pushing 5'9, wouldn't you say?"

"Yeah, you're right," the first one relented.

"So baldie has guard duty today," Callie murmured. "Small world." She finally opened her fist to see what Lorna had given her, and her heart nearly stopped in ecstasy: it was a spare car key. Callie tugged the edge of her friend's skirt. "Lorn-"

"Now Callie, now!" Lorna shouted. "Up! Drive!"

Both guards were stunned by the outburst. "Who are you talking to?" asked the first.

"My friend," Lorna said with a grin as Callie pushed herself back up into the driver's seat.

"That's her!" the second guard blurted. "That's Calloway!"

"The name's Callie," Callie said, feeling around below the seat for the adjustment lever.

"What are you doing?" Lorna hissed, compulsively locking the doors.

"Moving the seat forward, jeez." She slid all the way up, listening for the click. "You think I could've reached the gas and brake with my short little legs?"

Both men now had their hands on their guns. "We'll have to ask you to stop right there-"

"Oh please, you and what army?" Callie put the key in the ignition and turned it. "By the way, nice model you've got here. 1974 Dodge Monaco, right?" She lightly stroked the wheel with one fingertip. "Just like all those years ago. I guess I got lucky." She turned her head and grinned broadly at the two dumbfounded men. "Dad would have been proud, don't you think?" And with the punchline delivered, Callie stepped as hard as she could on the gas, leaving the gate to the Joliet Correctional Center in a puff of smoke.

"CALLIE! SLOW DOWN!"

"Who are you, my driving instructor?"

"No, just someone who DOESN'T WANT TO DIE TODAY!" Lorna clung with both hands to the rubber handle above the passenger door. "Would you PLEASE find it in you heart, as a friend, to NOT DRIVE AT 90 MILES PER HOUR?"

Callie glanced at the speedometer. "Silly, we're not going 90."

"We're not?"

"Nah, more like 95 and a half." Callie turned the wheel sharply as they approached the first corner. "And besides, we're on an empty road. What's there to be worried about?"

"HOW ABOUT YOUR BEST FRIEND SPONTANEOUSLY COMBUSTING?"

Callie smiled craftily. "Huh. I wonder what that looks like up close." She jerked around another corner. "That should speed the process up, I think."

Lorna took a few shaky breaths to regain a semblance of calm. "Callie do you see how hard I'm holding on to this handle?"

The car made another unsettling jerk as Callie changed lanes. "I can imagine."

"Good." Lorna took another breath. "Because if you don't start driving the speed limit, my hands will resume their white-knuckled grip on your throat."

"As you wish, milady." Callie took her foot off the gas and eased onto the brake, stopping them at the light.

"Thank God," Lorna said breathlessly.

Callie tapped the wheel impatiently, rolling her eyes. "I thought you liked adventure movies."

"Me too," Lorna admitted. "But let's just say I've determined that the 3-D experience isn't for me, kay?"

"Kay," Callie said doubtfully.

Lorna shifted in her seat, looking around. "Do you know where we are?"

Callie tilted the rearview mirror. "According to the cross streets we have behind us and the intersection that we are currently waiting to pass through, we're about five blocks away from Saint Helen's in the opposite direction of where we started."

"Oh hell," said Lorna, looking at Callie. "We go all that distance out of our way to find the right police car just so you can round-robin us back the other way?"

"Joliet Correctional Center is not en route to the Triple Rock," Callie said patiently.

"Yeah, I kinda figured that out." Lorna looked up. "How long is this red light gonna take?"

"No idea." Callie flicked a glance in the same direction. "They might be trying to raise the bridge."

"Great. Just great." Lorna rolled her eyes and began to hit her head against her side of the dashboard. "I shelled out money to a cab driver so my best friend could steal another car and get us stuck inside it in a traffic jam."

"Hey, this isn't just any car." Callie spoke in uncharacteristic marvel. "It's a cop car, which means it's got cop tires, suspension and shocks, not to mention a siren, but it also used to be a regular car, a vintage Monaco no less, so we can treat it like one. A regular set of wheels, I mean."

Lorna gave her a funny look. "I never knew you were into cars."

"I'm not." Callie sighed. "But you're my only friend who's a girl. All the little boys I made holy mudpies with grew into guys who like to talk cars. So I studied up." She half-smiled in spite of herself. "Although, talking cars did segue very nicely into talking Bluesmobile. As in the Bluesmobile. A couple of the romantics sort of lust after it…" Callie giggled. "They say that thing could enter a demolition derby and come out alive and kickin'. The realists though, they say all the stunts were just legendary crap. Wet blankets."

Lorna craned her neck forward. "You've got space, move up."

Callie eased up on the brake for a millisecond and stepped down again. "There."

"Further."

Callie eased up on the brake again. "And up your tailpipe we go, Mister Ford."

Lorna laughed quietly. "Just don't hit him."

"Under control, Sis." They sat a moment more in silence before Callie broke it. "See? Look, the bridge is going up."

"How 'bout that?" Lorna laid back in the seat and closed her eyes. "Wake me for church."

Callie looked thoughtfully ahead. "I heard somewhere that to prove the car's worth, Elwood gunned the gas and managed to build enough forward momentum to jump an open drawbridge."

"That's nice." Lorna tipped her head slightly toward Callie. "What's your point?"

"My point is, do you dare me?"

"Dare you to what?"

"I think you know what." Callie rolled down her window and poked her head out. "There's room for me to pull out to the left, no cross traffic, and plenty to space between here and the first edge."

Lorna opened her eyes. "First edge?"

Callie revved the engine. "Yeah, the first edge. Followed in a small number of yards by the second." Foot still on the brake, she gripped the wheel to turn it. "And if the legend is true-"

"Callie, no." Lorna shot out her left hand and grabbed the wheel.

"Aw, come on!" Callie kept a firm hold. "We'll only be above the speed limit for a few minutes or so, and then we're in pure free-fall!"

"CALLIE, NO! ARE YOU CRAZY?" Lorna shouted. "I'M SCARES SHITLESS RIGHT NOW, PLEASE TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY!"

Callie couldn't hold it in any more: she burst out laughing. Lorna stared at her. "How is this funny?" she asked, breathless and dumbfounded. "How is this even remotely funny? Let me know now, 'cause I'm drawing a blank here."

"That's because you can't see your face!" Callie wheezed as she took a breath. "Oh my God, I got you so good!"

"Forgive me if I'm not thrilled." Lorna sat limply back in he seat, placing her hands on her lap belt.

"Well, consider that payback," said Callie, pulling the car into the once-again-moving traffic.

Lorna rolled her head to Callie's side. "Payback for what?"

"The sex joke."

Lorna sighed, exasperated. "That was two days ago. And given the extent in life-risking you just went to, I should at least get to make another one."

Callie shrugged. "Fine. Lay it on me."

Lorna thought. "I can't think of another one," she said finally.

"All right." Callie made another turn. "Just let me know when you do, and we'll be even."

"Callie, someday I'm going to murder you and save the country from public menace."

"Love you too, Lorn."

Less than ten minutes later, Callie pulled up to the curb and nudged her friend.

"Lorn. We're here."

"Yeah, I kind of got that from the steeple." Lorna sat up and unbuckled. "So this is the Triple Rock Baptist Chruch."

"Yep." Callie turned off the car and got out without another word.

Lorna lazily opened the door latch and pushed it the rest of the way open with her foot. As she got out, she realized Callie wasn't there in front of her.

"Hey, Cal-"

"Get your sunglasses."

Lorna startled slightly as Callie came around the opposite side of the car wearing the dark shades from the box.

"They're out looking for us now," Callie explained, unusually deadpan. She adjusted the frames on her small face. "We have to protect our identities."

"Right." Lorna fumbled in her purse, retrieving a secondhand pair of Foster Grant's.

Callie smiled. "Stylish."

Lorna grinned back as she put them on. "Thanks. You're not so bad yourself."

Callie looked uneasily at the church. "We're probably late, but we could still sneak in, right?"

Lorna shrugged. "Up to you."

"I mean, we won't be too tacky coming in if we're quiet, right?"

"Nah, we'll be fine." Lorna looked ahead, then back at Callie. "You ready?"

"As I'll ever be." She set off at a speedwalk towards the entrance.

"And just refresh me on what we're doing here?" Lorna asked, catching up with her on the step.

"I can't do that," Callie answered..

"Why the hell not?"

"Because." She pulled open the heavy front door. "I don't exactly know either."

"Great plan there," Lorna grumbled.

"However tiny, convoluted or near-nonexistent it may be…" Callie reminded her friend as they slipped inside.

Lorna sighed. "Using my own words against me."

"Darn right." Callie took her by the arm. "Now come on. We're going to a church service, not decreasing the surplus population."

Lorna groaned. "Of all the times to reference 'A Christmas Carol'…"

"Ssh!" Callie ran a few steps ahead and pressed her ear to the chapel doors. "I don't hear a sermon."

"What? Hold on." Lorna joined her at the doorjamb. She eased the door on the left open just slightly, and quickly closed it again. "They're mingling. Either we missed it completely, or they're starting late."

"Good. Let's find out." Callie forcefully pushed the doors open and walked into the aisle. The room she entered was flooded with colors, smells and action: a stark contrast from the dingy gray and white she and Lorna had come to associate with the morning masses at Saint Helen's. Ladies decked out in their Sunday best stood in clusters and gossiped. Some of them broke off, excusing themselves to help out in the basement kitchen. At the mention of the word, the others would all voice their support and approval, inadvertently masking the sound of Callie and Lorna's stomachs growling. The men milled about, greeting one another and stopping once and a while for conversation. A few of them tipped their hats to the girls, wishing them a "good morning," and a few "Lord be with you"'s. They were overcome by the openness and friendliness of the place, but most of all by the color. Even though it was most accurately off-white outside, the sunlight painted the walls a brilliant yellow, accenting the blue plates of the stained glass windows. The patrons were just as colorful themselves, dressed in every bold hue imaginable. Even the children were friendly. They were sure to say a polite good morning to the light-skinned girls before running and hiding themselves in their mothers' skirts.

"Lorn, are you getting all this?" Callie looked around in wonder. "Are you feeling all this? It's like somebody took this beautiful, friendly, close-knit, nice little neighborhood and poured it into one room."

"Yeah…" Lorna agreed, looking around more uncomfortably. "An all-black neighborhood."

"So? What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing. It's just…" Lorna racked her brain for a comparison. "It's just that…I feel like…a pimple."

"A pimple?" Callie wrinkled her nose. "How so?"

"Like, you know, that white thing that barges it way onto your face, even though it's universally unwanted."

Callie laughed loudly, drawing a bit of attention. "Unwanted? Okay, I admit, we're two pasty white girls wearing Catholic school uniforms and dark sunglasses in a majority African-American church. A little awkward maybe, but look around you!" She made a wide gesture with her arms. Is 'unwanted' really the first word that comes to mind?"

"Well well well, what have we got us here?"

Callie and Lorna turned around to see a big black lady coming towards them, small child in tow, and not at all pleased-looking.

"Does that answer your question?" Lorna whispered.

"Benn a long time since we've seen a light-skinned face in here," the lady continued, now close enough to them for a civil conversation. "Seems folks of different groups like to keep to 'emselves, but we love to see a new face-" She tipped her head up slightly to address Lorna. "Even if it's a couple of uppity white girls who don't give an everlovin' stink about the Lord."

"Now hold on a minute, ma'am." Callie spoke assertively as she stepped forward. "That's not us at all." She cleared her throat. "See, we came here to join you and your fine contemporaries in praise because we love the Lord. We do indeed, and we'd like to think we do on the same level as yourself. But our teachers have prevented us from raising our voices in praise in the ever-so enlightening way that is practiced here at the Triple Rock Baptist Church. Therefore, my sister and I have come here in hopes of joining you and others in this endeavor."

The lady was speechless for a moment or two, and had to compose herself to respond. "I-I'm sorry. I had no idea."

Lorna nudged Callie. "First of all, nice going," she said in a low voice, "but honestly, where did that come from?"

"Honestly, as with our reason for being here in the first place, I have no idea," Callie answered at the same volume. She raised her voice to respond to the lady. "I hope we're not imposing on anyone by being here."

"No worries, honey." The lady waved off the apology. "Anyone's welcome here that's got the spirit." She grimaced slightly, regarding the pair of them. "And I'm still not sure what you two've got, but-"

"Oh Ruthie baby, you got to know what they got." An older African-American gentleman made his way up to them, leaning on a mahogany cane. "I'll tell you right now what these two got." He squinted, looking from Lorna to Callie, but keeping a face of conviction. "These girls got soul."

Callie nodded once. "Thank you, sir."

"Psh." "Ruthie" waved that away as well. "He tells everybody they got soul."

"That's 'cause everybody got it!" In his excitement, the older man lost firm grip on his cane and had to steady himself. "They's been nobody today nor last Sunday nor the holy day before that who I seen who ain't got no soul! Everyone, all God's children got soul. Even when they stray from the path and don't feel it, even when they stray from the path and they say they're empty inside. Even when those children stray from the path and say they ain't got no soul, they're wrong! And if they look for just a moment, just a moment inside themselves, they'll see those souls. They'll see those souls, lightin' them a way home!"

On the ending word, his balance gave way a second time, but he caught himself on the edge of a pew. His small groan of pain was then drowned out by applause and choruses of appreciative "hallelujah"'s from the groups that had migrated nearer to listen.

Ruth sniffed. "Now let that be a lesson to you girls, don't you ever get involved with a preachin' man, 'cause the preachin' won't ever leave 'im." She looked disapprovingly towards the man. "You see what that gets you nowadays, Cleophus? More pain for that stiff, old leg of yours. Now come on."

Lorna gave Ruth a confused look. "Is he your husband?"

"Him?" Lorna shirked as Ruth burst into a gale of laughter. "No, hon," she said finally. "The reverend, or should I say former reverend Cleophus James is my baby girl's granddaddy."

"So he's your father?" Lorna asked.

"More like father-in-law, if they're on a mutual first-name basis," said Callie.

Ruth looked down at Callie, then back at Lorna. "Little quick for her age, ain't she?"

Lorna chuckled. "She's seventeen, ma'am."

Ruth did a double-take. "You sure?"

"We were raised together" Lorna said simply.

"Well, ain't you the proud big sis!" Ruth took one of Lorna's hands and clasped it in her own. "My little baby Jezebel's seventeen and a half now, almost a full grown woman!" She glanced over her shoulder once, seeing some other church ladies beckoning to her. "Speakin' of which, 'fraid I'll have to leave you two now." She put a hand on Lorna's shoulder. "Just do me a favor and make sure the reverend gets himself set down comfortably, or I might not hear the end of it."

"Sure, ma'am." Lorna turned to her friend. "Callie, help me-"

"Oh, don't worry yourself young lady, I can get set down comfortable without anybody's help." The reverend sighed, leaning on his cane again. After a few seconds, he motioned for them to come closer. Cautiously, they did.

"You two've got more soul in you than you realize." He looked from Lorna to Callie, as he had done before. "Soul don't come from goin' to church and hearin' no man like me preach at you. No, soul comes when you free yourself in your own way. Can't nobody tell you how, buy you got to do it." He looked at Callie, pointing at her with his free hand. "And you've done it. You know you're only part of the way there child, but you done it."

Callie stiffened. "What are you- how did you-?"

He ignored her question. "I can tell you got soul by how you talk 'bout things the way you do." He looked Callie in the eye so intensely that she had to step back. "You talk with such livin' words and a dead voice, I know the soul's got to be in there, just hidin' somewhere, needin' to come out and see the light…" he trailed off, as if his words had brought back a memory.

"Are you all right, sir?" Lorna asked, compensating for Callie's state of speechlessness.

"I'm fine, I'm fine." The reverend Cleophus James turned his attention to her. "And you, missy. You and your sister…" He glanced at Callie, then back at Lorna. "On a journey."

"Well yeah, you could say that," Lorna relented, "but she's not my-"

The reverend let out a reflective sigh. "In my younger days, when the words I said were still taken by these fine people as the teachin's of the Lord, one mornin' I saw two white boys standin' in the back of my church. A tall one and a hefty one, dark shades, dark suits, both lookin' like they had some sort of debt to pay off by bein' there." Callie and Lorna slowly looked at eachother as the reverend continued. "So there they were, just standin' there, and then the light shines just right through the windows on one of 'em, and the boy looks like he's woken up for the first time. I asked him if he seen the light, he said he had, and next thing I know, he's up in front dancin' his heart out." He shook his head. "Somethin' tells me nobody makes those boys move when they don't want to."

"Ahem…" Lorna elbowed Callie in the side.

"So what you're saying," Callie began, surprising Lorna by actually having paid attention, "is that we need to see the light to know what our souls want us to do?"

The reverend smiled. "I never said it, but it never hurts listenin' to your own heart." He looked at her seriously one last time. "Just remember child, the light don't always shine its brightest in here." He looked at Lorna. "Missy, could you hold my cane a moment while I set myself-" he grumbled the next few words, "like my Ruthie said?"

Lorna nodded quickly. "Sure." She took it from him as he eased himself into the pew on their left.

"Lorn…Lorn…" Callie insistently tapped her friend's arm. "Lorn…"

"Hold your horses!" Lorna snapped. She carefully leaned the cane against the edge of the pew and turned around. "What?"

"Lorna, do you know who that was?"

"The reverend Cleophus James," Lorna answered. "Ruthie told us that."

"That's the obvious part, yes," Callie persisted, "But-"

"I didn't know you were delving," Lorna said in a clipped voice, cutting her off. "I'll withdraw the 'obvious' answer and give you a new one. I've just seated the reverend Cleophus James who, according to the urban legends starring your newly-found dad and uncle, used to preach every morning under this very roof, and was known to have saved many souls, including that of one Jake E. Blues." Lorna looked at Callie once as she finished, then turned on her heel and walked towards the back of the church.

"Lorn, wait!" Thinking her friend was leaving, Callie took a running start, but ended up skidding to a stop next to her where the carpet ended.

"I'm not as dumb as you think I am, Callie," Lorna said.

"Sorry," Callie mumbled. She squinted up at Lorna. "Why are we standing back here? We could at least sit if you want to be in back."

Lorna looked back at her with a smirk. "Do you want to authenticate the experience or not?" She made a cursory glance upward and moved to Callie's other side. "Jake was under the window."

"I-" Callie gazed upward at the blue stained glass. She guffawed. "I- you-" She looked at Lorna. "You-you remembered?"

"I listen and remember." Lorna smiled. "Not as dumb as you think I am," she reminded her.

Callie punched her on the arm. "Yeah, I got it."

"Brothers and sisters!" A call from the front of the chapel silenced the room. "Please, take your seats so that this service of enlightenment may begin!"

There was a general shuffling of feet and bodies as the patrons took their seats. The man who had called out the greeting cleared his throat from the pulpit.

"Brothers and sisters!" he said again. "We have gathered here on his beautiful Sunday morning, as we do every Sunday morning, to sing our praises to that savior of saviors, that glory of all glories we call our Lord God."

"Amen!" shouted a family in the back pew.

"Ay-men!" shouted a cluster of children from the rafters.

"Amen, brother!" called out reverend Cleophus James. "You preach us good, now! You preach us good 'bout ourselves!"

"And so today, in place of our usual sermon, our very own Triple Rock Baptist choir has prepared a special song for you all. Please enjoy."

"He says that like we have a choice," Lorna muttered.

Callie lifted one shoulder. "Well, we technically do."

"Yeah, but it's not like he expects us to analyze the performance when it's all done." Lorna shook her head. "I thought you said you stayed awake for psych."

Callie opened her mouth to speak, but guiltily shut it again as the chorus music began.

"Catchy," she whispered to Lorna without response.

It has begun, nothin' in the world can stop it now…

Lorna leaned over to Callie. "Is he singing tenor part?"

Callie shook her head. "That's baritone."

"Oh." Lorna nodded. "Nice voice."

"Yeah."

It's in control, we might as well just try to stop the wind…

"Let's sway."

Lorna made a face. "What?"

"Sway in time, like the chorus."

"Why?"

"So they know the white girls're getting into it."

"Fine. Even though we look like someone's white trash backup singers as it is."

"Shut up."

Give up! Give in!
You lose! Love will always win.
Start surrendering:
Stop resisting!

The group hit a note that all at once made the entire congregation cheer, including Callie and Lorna.

Nothin' you can do about it
It's too strong to be denied
Nothin' you can do about it,
Relax, enjoy the ride…

Now, the whole of the chapel was clapping in time to the song, and of course, joyously calling out their amens as they swayed.

"I told you," Callie whispered.

"There. Now, was that so bad?"

"Not terrible. Church is actually okay when people don't make a funeral dirge out of the whole thing."

The two girls were standing in the smallish alcove just outside the chapel doors, trying not to look like they needed to leave which, they admittedly discovered, is a hard thing to do when the opposite is the case.

"You girls have a good time here with us?"

Lorna fielded the question, leaving Callie alone with the quiet, surmounting nervousness. "Of course we did Ruth, is it all right if I call you Ruth? Good, so anyway yes-"

"Seems she can talk as nice as you in her own way."

Callie slowly turned around to find the reverend Cleophus addressing her. She sighed and nodded.

He looked contemplatively at the glass in the wooden front door. "You remember what I told you 'bout seein' the light?"

Callie nodded slowly. "How it doesn't always shine its brightest in the chapel?"

He nodded once. "I think you're about to understand it a bit more."

Callie squinted. "Understand it more how?"

"I don't know." He moved his cane and started for the door. "You got to find out from your soul." He looked over his shoulder. "Mr. Soul Man, he always knows."

"Oh look, they have a bulletin board!"

"Wh- huh?" Callie turned again, feeling lightheaded. "What's the newsflash?"

"I don't know yet."

Callie chuckled. "Is this your revenge?"

Lorna gave her a knowing look. "Oh, you wish my revenge was a simple wasting of your time. No Callie, when I'm avenging, you'll know."

"Oh joy," Callie mumbled.

"Hey, Callie…" A flyer caught Lorna's eye and she gently untacked it. "I think you should see-"

"Lorna, those people are pointing and whispering. We need to go."

Lorna looked where she was referencing. "You're right, we'll discuss it in the car." She crumpled the flyer in her right fist and started walking.

"Lorn, wait…" Callie rushed out the door after her. "What did you want me to see?"

"You told me to go, so I'm going." Lorna turned and walked backward a few paces. "I just happened to see a flyer tacked on that bulletin board that you might find interesting, that's all."

"And out of curiosity, what made you think I'd be interested?"

"I dunno, it might be nothing, except for the words "R+B tribute bands" clearly printed at the top."

"Fine, let me see it!" Callie grabbed for the paper in Lorna's hand.

"In the car," Lorna repeated, pulling it out of reach.

"Fine," Callie repeated, still holding her hand out in front of her. "Keys?"
"Here." Lorna took them out of her purse. "But you've got to drive slower now, kapiche?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." Callie grabbed the keys and circled to the driver's side of the Monaco. "Fast and slow are relative terms, you know."

"Unlock it!" Lorna barked as Callie gave a futile tug on her car door handle. "Also, in what universe does 95 miles an hour not constitute 'fast'?"

"Wherever there's warp speed." Callie opened her door and got in, giving Lorna the cue to do the same. But just as they had both slammed their doors shut, Lorna sensed motion in the back seat.

"What's up?" Callie asked, noticing her flinch.

Lorna shook it off. "Nothing, let's go." She straightened up in her seat. "Where to next, Captain?"

Callie buckled in and started to re-adjust her mirrors. "Well, by this evening, we'll want to end up at the Backbeat or Blue Note, but for right now, we need to…" she trailed off, slowly lowering her hand from the rearview panel. "Lorna, there's someone in the back."

Lorna rolled her eyes. "If you're trying to get on my nerves about a second ago, it's not going to work." She turned around to prove her friend wrong, and immediately faced front again. "Well, I'm never doubting you again."

Callie made a face. "You really thought I was lying?"

"To be honest, I was basing it on the fact that our guest didn't say anything when you acknowledged her."

"That's 'cause I was hopin' you two'd eventually quit yakkin' and drive somewhere."

Callie and Lorna exchanged nervous glances in the front seat, and then both looked back at their passenger. It was one of the members of the choir, still in her robes, and staring back at them like she wanted them dead.

Callie sighed, slowly turning back around and putting her hands on the wheel. "Where do you want driven to?"

"Callie!" Lorna protested before she could stop herself.

"Lorn, it's okay." Callie put the key in the ignition, but didn't turn it. "Where do you want to go?" she repeated.

"Anywhere, long as it's not here."

"Okay." Callie turned the car on. "How's a semi-out-of-town clothing store sound?"

The passenger shrugged. "Fine with me."

"Good." Callie revved the engine and shifted to drive. "Your group sang really well today."

The girl in the back made a 'hmph' sound. "Thanks, I guess."

"Callie, what are you doing?" Lorna whispered.

"What's it look like I'm doing?" Callie whispered back. "I'm helping out a runaway, like us."

"Callie you do realize we don't have the upper-hand if anything goes wrong here."

Callie looked doubtfully at the back. "Like what?"

"Like if she has a gun or something. Callie, we don't know her."

"Actually, we do have the upper-hand," Callie interjected. "She asked us for help."

Lorna scoffed. "I wouldn't call what she's doing 'asking for help'…"

"You know what, Lorna? You're wrong. And I'll prove it." Callie turned back again. "So, by the way, what's your name?"

The passenger smiled the biggest, whitest smile Callie had ever seen. "Shut the fuck up and drive."

"Not so wrong now, am I?" Lorna said.

Callie laughed nervously. "I'm sorry?"

The smile disappeared. "I said, shut the fuck up and drive."

Callie wiped her sweaty hands on her skirt and grabbed the wheel again. "I said I would-"

"Callie…" Lorna was looking nervously backward. "I think you should step on the gas."

Now it was Callie's turn to scoff. "Why should I-"

"Wrong answer." A hand with a sharpened steak knife emerged one inch to the right of Callie's ear. "She told you to step on it, so drive!"

Callie hit the gas in a millisecond, making the tires squeal as they dashed out into traffic.

"Don't have to tell me more than once," she muttered.

"Wrong again!" Both the voice from the back seat and the hand holding the knife were shaky now. "Between me and her, we told you four times. You lose."

Lorna laughed out loud. "Now it's official, babe!"

"Shut up," Callie grumbled.

Lorna turned to their passenger. "if you could put the knife away sweetie, I think we'd all have a better ride."

The choir girl nodded, slowly retracting her arm and putting the knife on the seat next to her. "Sorry. I just got a li'l carried away."

"Happens to the best of us," Callie assured her. They drove in silence for a while after that.

"It's Jezebel, if you still care."

Lorna frowned. "What?"

"My name. Jezebel."

"Oh."

"Well, nice to meet you, Jezebel!" Callie said cheerfully. "I'm Calloway, and she's Lorna."

"Calloway?"

"Yeah, I'm not entirely Zen with it either. That's why people call me Callie."

"No, I like it." Jezebel smiled. "It's not every day you meet people with good names." She almost laughed. "I mean, even with mine. It's biblical and all, but it's not exactly Sarah if you know what I mean."

"Actually, I know another Jezebel." Callie flicked the turn signal. "Then again, Lorna and I are Catholic school brats." She considered. "But names are just labels. They can be changed. What do you want us to call you?"

"I don't know," Jezebel reluctantly answered. "I never really thought about nicknames."

"Let's try this, then." Callie looked at her in the rearview mirror. "What's your full name?"

"Jezebel Bathsheba James."

"Of course," Lorna said, more to herself than anyone. "Of course she's Ruth's daughter and Cleophus' granddaughter."

"Easy!" Callie said immediately. "We'll call you J.J."

"J.J. I like that." Jezebel relaxed in her seat. "While we're playing, what's your full name, Callie?"

"Calloway Curtis." She paused, putting the brake on. "No middle name." She ignored Lorna's look of alarmed confusion. "Why?"

Jezebel smiled again. "Can I call you Cece then?"

Callie grinned. "Hey, why not?" She elbowed Lorna. "Now you need one, Lorn."

"Hey, why not?" Lorna said with minimal enthusiasm.

"Thorn," said Jezebel.

"Hey, that fits. I actually like that." Lorna smiled. "Thanks, J.J."

Jezebel leaned forward. "On your right." She pointed. "Goodwill."

"Let me get this straight. Two girls, two teenage girls broke into your squad car , parked right in plain sight, and they stole it?" The two cops hung their heads, standing in front of the commissioner's desk.

"Yes ma'am," said the first.

"Well, that's just peachy."

The second spoke up. "We're sorry, madam commissioner-"

"Sorry doesn't make my job any easier." She sighed. "Fine. I'll put in a request for a replacement vehicle for you two, and we'll get the two girls' names out there so they can be dealt with." She opened her top drawer for a notepad. "Though I don't see why you didn't do this yourselves already. She uncapped her pen. "Names?"

The second one piped up again. "A previous unknown, Lorna Jennifer Whitesnake, and one with a few minor marks for reckless driving and miscellaneous, Calloway Blues."

The commissioner stopped. "What?"

"Lorna and Calloway. They ran away from the Saint Helen's establishment this morning-"

"No." The commissioner looked up. "What did you say Calloway's last name was?"

"I-I didn't-"

"Blues," the first one answered for him.

"That's what I thought." She capped her pen. "You may go."

After they left, she picked up the phone and dialed the scheduling extension. "Hello, Robert? Yes, I'm giving myself an assignment, one that was just brought to my attention, apprehension of two underage felons. Yes, thank you. Goodbye." She hung up, smiling to herself. "Oh Callie my dear," she thought, "you're going to lead me straight to Elwood, and that man's going to get exactly what he deserves."