The War that Saved My Life by Kimberly Brubaker Bradley

looked tired and cross, but she usually looked cross in the mornings.
I avoided her gaze. I didn’t know what she meant by overwhelming.
“A little too much?” Susan said.
Of course it was too much. It was 833 men too much.
Susan sighed. “Next time we go to the movies we’ll wait in the lobby until
the newsreel’s over. I assume that the radio’s still okay?”
I nodded. The radio didn’t come with pictures.
Jamie told Susan his teacher still thought he had the devil in him, and because
of that we had to start going to church on Sundays.
“Of course you haven’t got the devil in you,” she said, “but if you go it’ll
give the gossips one less thing to talk about. Besides, I’ve been feeling guilty
about neglecting your religious education.”
She made us go, but she didn’t. She went the first time only, to show us
how you had to sit in the pew, and stay quiet, unless there was singing or
words to say, in which case we still sat quiet because we didn’t know the
songs or the words. A man up front read stories and then talked a long time,
and Jamie got in trouble for kicking the pew. That was what the benches were
called. Pews. Jamie thought it was a funny word. The whole next week he
held his nose and said “Pew!” every time he sat down.
After the first Sunday Susan walked us to the church, then took a walk
through the village and picked us up on her way back. She said churches and
her didn’t agree.
“You said your father worked in the church,” I said, scowling, on our way
home the second Sunday. The lady beside Jamie and me had spent the whole
sitting-down part of the service staring at us, and I hadn’t liked it at all.
Miss Smith looked tight-lipped. “Yes. My father has made it clear he
doesn’t think I can be redeemed.”
Jamie said, “What’s that mean? Redeemed?”
“In my case being redeemed means changing my evil ways and regaining
my heavenly crown. It means my parents don’t like me. And yes, my father’s
still alive. My mother died.”
“Oh.” Jamie threw a rock, and hit a fencepost half a block away. “Our
mam doesn’t like us either. ’Specially Ada. She hates Ada. Ada’s not
redeemed.”