Chapter Sixteen: My First Potluck (and Maybe Jesus)

Church, Casserole, and the Power of a Well-Timed Bell

Billy wasn’t exactly a new neighbor, but he was new enough. His family had been in the bottom-floor apartment for about a year — which, in my neighborhood, meant they were practically founding members.

It was summer. I was outside near the creek behind our apartment, halfway between tree-climbing and trouble. I spotted Billy sitting on his front porch, l…