Nicolae High

by Jerry B. Jenkins

  For many of the junior highers, this merely looked like the first day of school again. Everyone seemed carefully dressed and equipped, and their mothers or fathers dropped them off, watching anxiously as they headed inside.

  “Wonder how many kids lost parents,” Ryan said. “Man, have I got something for show-and-tell.”

  “They still do show-and-tell?” Vicki asked.

  “No, but for sure everybody’s gonna want to be telling where they were and what they saw and who they know who’s gone and all that.”

  Judd glanced in the rearview mirror and noticed Lionel nodding, but he was gazing out the window. Judd spoke softly to Vicki. “You gonna go to the office and see about getting new books?”

  “I guess,” she said. “They’ll probably charge me.”

  “If you need any mon—”

  “I know, Judd,” she said quickly. “Thanks. I’ll let you know. But I’m going to find a job soon.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Oh, yes I do. I’m not a freeloader or a charity case.”

  “Let me get out here!” Ryan said. “I see some of the guys!”

  “Just wait,” Judd said. “We’ve got to talk about what you’re going to say about your situation.”

  “My situation? What do you mean? My parents are dead. How else can I say it? You think I’m going to start crying or something? I don’t think I can cry anymore.”

  Judd pulled into the line circling the entrance, and they crawled along. “Both you and Lionel have to come up with some story about where you’re staying.”

  “You mean lie?”

  “’Course not. But you don’t have to tell people you’re living with other kids. Just say you’re staying with someone from church.”

  “Good idea,” Lionel said. “I’m not sure I’m ready to tell everybody that I’m the only one left in my family. But I’ll bet they try to get us talking about what we think happened. If they ask me, I’ll tell ’em.”

  Judd pulled over and shifted into Park. “You guys are sure you want to walk all the way home after school?”

  “It’s not that far,” Lionel said. “Anyway, it’s either wait here for you for an hour or go home. Nothing else to do.”

  Judd nodded. Vicki said, “We’re going to want to hear all about it, so try to remember everything.”

  “All right, all right,” Ryan said. “Let’s go already! Unlock the doors.”

  “They might ask kids whose parents are gone to fill out new emergency forms,” Judd said.

  “And we’ll put down Bruce Barnes’s name and the church’s phone number,” Ryan said. “We’ve been through this a gazillion times.”

  Judd unlocked the doors, and it seemed Lionel was out as quickly as Ryan. “All of a sudden I feel like a parent,” Judd said, pulling back into traffic. “I could’ve waited ten years to start worrying about what a couple of junior highers are going to do all day.”

  Vicki just smiled and nodded. She looked tense.

  In the parking lot at the former Prospect High School, teachers and coaches and office staff directed traffic and spoke through bullhorns. “Don’t worry about parking stickers today! We’ll deal with that later! Check the bulletin boards for class and schedule changes! We’ll be on a shortened program today, starting in the field house for an all-school assembly! Sit with your class!”

  “Homeroom?” Judd asked through the window.

  “No, your whole class. Freshmen in the west balcony, sophomores in the east balcony, juniors in the back on the main floor, seniors in front.”

  Vicki appeared pale and on the verge of tears as she got out of the car. “You want to stay with me for that opening assembly?” Judd said.

  She sighed. “I really would. You think they’d let me?”

  “You don’t look like a freshman anyway,” he said. “You may have to join your class if they go together, but otherwise, what are they going to do, kick you out?”

  Judd waited as she stopped to ask a teacher what she should do about her books. “If that’s all you lost, girl,” the teacher said, “consider yourself lucky. We’ll deal with that at the assembly. Don’t be late.”

  The halls were as crowded as ever until they got into the field house. When the opening bell rang it was clear that the place, usually jammed for an all-school assembly, was only 70 to 75 percent filled. The teaching staff was depleted by about the same percentage, made obvious because they were sitting in rows on the platform behind the lectern.

  As Judd and Vicki sat with the juniors, the principal, Mrs. Laverne Jenness, stepped to the microphone. “Welcome back,” she said. “I’m proud to announce, in case you were under a rock and missed the news or the brand-spanking-new sign out front, that you are no longer Prospect Knights. You are Nicolae Carpathia Doves!”

  She may have expected an enthusiastic response, because she appeared taken aback at a smattering of boos and laughter. But when the teachers jumped to their feet in applause, most of the students began cheering too. Judd thought at first that they were just mocking the teachers—as usual—but it soon became clear the celebrants were serious.

  Mrs. Jenness beamed. “I’m so pleased that you’re pleased,” she said. “We recognize that this decision was made without your input, but there was nearly unanimous support at the administrative level. Really, your response is most gratifying. There had long been talk that our school name, steeped in history as it was, was unimaginative, merely echoing the name of the town in which we reside. And a knight is, of course, a warrior, which has long been an offensive mascot.

  “To be named after so great and humble a leader and pacifist like UN Secretary-General Nicolae Carpathia, well, that should make us all proud.”

  The students chanted, “Nicolae High! Nicolae High! Nicolae High!”

  Mrs. Jenness smiled, then raised her hands for silence. “I recognize that we reconvene only weeks after the most tragic event to ever curse our planet. Many of you lost friends and loved ones and will be grieving. Thank you for recognizing the importance of returning for your education, regardless. As you can imagine, the counseling services offered by our school district have been taxed beyond their limits. But as you see a need for a professional to talk to, please put your name on the waiting list. Don’t be ashamed or afraid to ask. We’re all trying to get through this.”

  Judd felt a nudge, and Vicki nodded toward a couple of seniors several rows ahead. “Are those Bibles?” she said.

  “Looks like it,” Judd said. “You know them?”

  Vicki shook her head. “Hey, look.”

  A football coach Judd recognized approached the seniors and knelt in the aisle. He spoke earnestly to them, smiling, but came away with both Bibles. As he hurried past, Judd reached out and whispered, “What was that all about, Coach Handlesman?”

  “Mind your own business, Thompson,” Handlesman said. “We haven’t allowed Bibles here since before you were born.”

  “But even now, after what happened?”

  “Especially now,” the coach said, moving on.

  “Remember what they look like, Vicki,” Judd said. “We’re going to need all the friends we can get.”

  Mrs. Jenness droned on about the difficulties and trauma, the mixed classes, the complicated inconveniences. “Bear with us as we try to regroup and reschedule. The ratio of missing students and faculty seems fairly even, so class size should remain approximately the same as before.

  “Those of you who lost textbooks, deal with that in each class and make your purchases in the bookstore by Friday. Now before I dismiss you, I would like to ask for your help. After an international tragedy that has struck so close to home, it’s only natural to want to talk about it. It’s therapeutic, and our counselors have advised me to let you have at it. Today in your abbreviated classes, we have asked faculty to get the housekeeping announcements out of the way, the book business taken care of, and any outlining of new class expectations dealt with quickly. Then they are free to supervi
se group discussions. Some of you will need to tell your stories of loss and fear. Others may choose not to speak of their ordeals. Please be respectful of those students and don’t badger them for details before they’re ready to be forthcoming.

  “Now, here’s what you can do for me. As you know, there has been widespread speculation about the cause of the vanishings. According to our consultants, part of the healing process—the making sense of this—involves forming and expressing your opinions on this. But I must remind you of the strict rule of the separation of church and state that has helped make this country great. We are a public institution, and this is not a forum in which we should espouse religious views.

  “I am aware that one of the many explanations for what happened is religious in nature. I’m not saying it has no validity. Like most of you, I lost extended family members. Their closest relatives reminded me that those who disappeared predicted this and told us exactly what to make of such an occurrence.

  “Though this happened among my own kin, and while those stories may even bear some scrutiny, I will not discuss them on school property during school hours. I’m asking that you not either. Even if I believed with all my heart that this was the best explanation for the disappearances—which, you may rest assured, I emphatically do not—I would maintain that this is the wrong venue in which to propagate that view. Thank you for understanding. I urge you to hold your questions until class time, unless anyone has something pressing that is appropriate to ask in front of the corporate body.

  “All right, then. Oh, yes, son. A question from a junior boy. Please stand and state your name and your question loudly enough for me to hear and repeat it into the microphone. And if it is not something that pertains to the whole school, I would ask—”

  “It pertains, ma’am!” Judd called out, rising, his heart thundering. “Judd Thompson, and I was just wondering if you would clarify this then!”

  “Clarify which part, Mr. Thompson? What is unclear?”

  “Why freedom of speech is extended only to those who hold certain views of what has happened?”

  “This is not a freedom-of-speech issue, young man. It’s a church-and-state issue. Thank you for raising it, but please don’t make something of it that it is not. Dismissed!”

  Judd was short of breath and knew his face was red as he gathered up his stuff. “I can’t believe you did that,” Vicki said, and he looked close to see if she was embarrassed or seemed to disapprove.

  “That wasn’t me,” he said, shaking his head. “That was my evil twin. I’ve never done anything like that before in my life. I don’t think I ever even paid attention in an assembly before.”

  “Hey, Judd, way to go, man,” one of his classmates said, punching him on the shoulder. “Way to be raucous!”

  Judd wanted to tell the boy he had been serious, but the guy was lost in the crowd. Coach Handlesman shouldered his way through to Judd and Vicki. “I liked you better when you made trouble by being a no-account, Thompson. Now you’re angling to be a smart aleck, eh?”

  “Nah. I just don’t think there should be restrictions on people trying to figure out the truth.”

  “Cry me a river,” the coach said, disappearing in the crowd.

  “Be careful,” Vicki said as they prepared to split up. “We don’t want to be too conspicuous.”

  “What’s your first class?” Judd said.

  “Phys ed,” she said. “Yours?”

  “Psych.”

  “Should be interesting,” she said.

  Judd nodded but noticed Vicki was distracted. She was looking past him, and her face paled. “Shelly?” she said. “Shelly! Is that you?”

  Judd had wanted to tell Vicki he would be praying for her, but that sounded cheesy, and she was preoccupied anyway. And his psych class with Mr. Shellenberger was at the complete other end of the school.

  EIGHT

  Opposition

  VICKI had not intended to ignore Judd or abandon him, but he was gone before she knew it. She had not seen or heard from her former neighbor Shelly since the day they both discovered what had happened. To Vicki’s horror, Shelly looked the same as she had that day. She stared into the distance as if she had seen things unspeakable.

  “Are you all right, Shel?” Vicki asked.

  Shelly looked at her, flat brown hair straight and lifeless, her pale green eyes vacant. “I don’t know you,” she said.

  “Sure you do, Shelly. It’s me, Vicki.”

  Shelly furrowed her brow and squinted. “No way,” she said. “Vick, what happened to you?”

  “To me?” It was out before Vicki could rein it in. Shelly was the one who didn’t look like herself. Vicki may have been made up differently and dressed differently, but Shelly looked as if someone had punched her in the stomach.

  “It’s really you, Vicki?”

  Vicki nodded. “Shelly, I know what happened. I lost my whole family, and—”

  “I don’t want to talk about it, OK? I really don’t.”

  “But as awful as it was, Shelly, I—”

  “Don’t,” she said, trembling.

  “Leave her alone,” an older girl said, glaring at Vicki. “Don’t you know what happened to her?”

  “No! What happened?”

  “Don’t tell her, Joyce!” Shelly said.

  “You just get to class, Shelly. And don’t let anybody make you say anything you don’t want to say.”

  Shelly looked apologetically at Vicki and moved away. Joyce turned on Vicki. “Are you Byrne?”

  “Yes, Joyce. Just dressing a little different these days.”

  “I’ll say. Your trailer burned, right?”

  Vicki nodded.

  “So where you livin’?”

  “Mount Prospect, with people from my church.”

  “That explains the threads. They makin’ you dress that way?”

  Vicki shook her head.

  “So you didn’t hear Shelly’s story ’cause you haven’t been back to the park?”

  “Right.”

  “She was baby-sitting for the Fischers. You knew them.”

  Vicki nodded, moving toward the girls’ locker room.

  “One of the kids starts crying just when the parents get home. Shelly goes in to check on her, and the kid’s really wailing. She picks her up, and that gets the little guy crying, so she picks him up too. Now she’s got two squalling kids in her arms as the Fischers come in the door. She’s about to explain that they just then woke up when both kids disappear and the parents too. Mom and Dad, poof, clothes in a pile right where they stood. The babies, gone with their pj’s draped over Shelly’s arms.

  “Tell you the truth, it would have scared me to death, Vicki, but I wish I’d have seen it. Well, you know Shelly. She can’t let it go. She’s playing it over and over in her mind. I saw her the next afternoon, wandering through the trailer park, not saying a word to anybody.”

  “I saw her late that morning,” Vicki said. “Same thing.”

  “I finally got her to tell me. Now everybody knows and nobody talks to her, figuring she doesn’t want to talk about it. Which is true. But I think she feels like it was her fault somehow.”

  “Where you headed, Joyce?”

  “Health. Next door here.”

  “You know what happened, don’t you?”

  “The disappearances? Sure. Jesus came back. What else? It’s not like we haven’t heard that all our lives.”

  “You believe that?”

  “Sure, don’t you?”

  “Well, yeah,” Vicki said, “but I didn’t know you did.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna get saved or anything. But look who went and who was left. Your mom and dad, right? And your little sister. But you were left. So was I. My whole family. How about Eddie? Bet your brother’s still around.”

  “Gone,” Vicki said.

  “No kiddin’? Disappeared?”

  Vicki nodded.

  “That might prove me wrong. He was no Holy Joe, was h
e?”

  “He became a believer after he got to Mich—”

  “See? I knew it! What else could it be, Vick? Huh?”

  “But that doesn’t make you want to be a Christian?”

  “No way! I still think the whole thing sounds wacky.”

  “Even though you believe it’s true?”

  “Especially because I believe it’s true. Hey, I know it’s true. If that was God’s idea of how to do things, I want no part of it. How about you?”

  “I believe it too. And I plan to be included when Jesus comes back again.”

  “Well, good for you, girl. You’re not going to set your sights on me, are ya?”

  “Well, I wish you would—”

  “Oh, you are, aren’t you? I’m going to be a project, just like my mom was to Mrs. Fischer. Save your breath. I don’t need any convincing. I believe, and I’ve chosen. So turn those Bible guns on somebody else. Like Shelly. She’d be perfect. Gotta go.”

  Psychology was one class Judd had actually enjoyed, and Mr. Shellenberger was the reason. He was a tall, fleshy man with a generous nose and receding, wavy hair. He had a sonorous voice, a superior manner, and he loved to bestow his opinions on one and all. He was in rare form today.

  “OK, class,” he began, “listen up. Parking-lot stickers in the office, new books in the bookstore—title, if you forgot already, is on the board. Now let’s do some practical psychology. Let’s vent our traumas and deepest fears for the benefit and enjoyment of all. I’ll start.”

  The class chuckled.

  “First, is there anyone in here who will turn me into the thought police if I discuss the religious theory? Anyone? No one? Don’t be intimidated. If you’re going to gum up the school year with an expensive lawsuit, tell me now, and I’ll avoid the subject. Speak now or forever hold your peace. Very well, the God thing:

  “Jesus didn’t come to get the good people and leave the bad. There are some who actually believe that, you know. Anyone here want to stake claim to that view? Nothing to be ashamed of. Some very respected people have fessed up to it. Come on. Anyone? No one? Mr. Thompson! Really? I thought you acted the agitator this morning just to get a rise out of our fearless leader. That was out of character for you, though. Well, isn’t this just too interesting? Do you care to discuss it?”