the Eff Word.
"Witch," Momma whispered. "It says in the Lord's Book:
'Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live.' Your father street 8th latina s did the Lord's street 8th latina s work-"
"I don't
street 8th latina s want to street 8th latina s talk about that," Carrie said. It always disturbed her to hear Momma talk about her father. "I just want you to understand that things are going to change around here, Momma." Her eyes gleamed. "They street 8th latina s better understand it, too."
But Momma was whispering to herself again.
Unsatisfied, street 8th latina s with a feeling street 8th latina s of anticlimax in her throat and the dismal roiling of emotional upset in her belly, she went to the cellar to street 8th latina s get her dress material.
It was better than the closet. There was that. Anything was street 8th latina s better than the closet street 8th latina s with its blue light and the overpowering stench of street 8th latina s sweat and her own sin. Anything. Everything.
She stood with the street 8th latina s wrapped package hugged against her breast and closed her eyes, shutting out the weak glow of the street 8th latina s cellar' s bare, cobweb-festooned bulb. Tommy Ross didn't love her; she knew that. This was some strange kind of atonement, and she could understand that and respond to it. She had lain cheek and street 8th latina s jowl with the concept street 8th latina s of penance since she
had been old enough to reason.
He had said it would be good-that they would see to it. Well, she would see to it. They better not start anything. They just better not. She did not know if her gift had come from the lord of light or of darkness, and now, finally finding