“Would it be okay if I made myself eggs and some fruit?”
“Be my guest. I’m not sure if we have eggs though.”
“You do. I saw them yesterday.”
Matt cracks the eggs and scrambles them in a bowl. He puts a pan on with a little butter and cooks his eggs. He fishes some strawberries out of the crisper. The bottom berries are moldy. He washes the good berries and puts them on a plate with his eggs and grabs a glass of milk.
“Do you compost these?” Matt asks, showing Grace the container of moldy berries.
Grace crinkles her face. “Oh, heavens no. Throw that away.”
Matt sits opposite Grace, eating his breakfast. Abigail hops down the stairs in a low-cut floral sundress, her whitish-blond hair tickling her shoulders. She opens the pantry and grabs a chocolate Pop-Tart, then plops down next to Grace.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Grace says.
“Morning, Grace,” Abby replies, her eyes and hands fixated on the chocolate pastry.
Ryan and Madison slog down the stairs, bleary-eyed. Ryan’s dressed in oversize khakis and an oversize, untucked button-down shirt to hide his girth. Madison wears her typical all-black gothic gear. She grabs the box of Cookie Crisp and the milk. She prepares a bowl for herself and Ryan.
“You two look like you stayed up too late last night,” Grace says.
“It’s too early. I wanna stay here,” Ryan says.
“You say that every Sunday,” Abby says.
“Because every Sunday it’s early.”
“You’ll be fine once we get there,” Grace says. She stares at Madison, narrowing her eyes. “Would it kill you to wear something nice for church, instead of those darn devil clothes?”
“Well, I’m not going out dressed like the Christian slut over there, I can tell you that,” Madison says.
“Madison, don’t talk about your sister that way.”
“She’s not my sister. I barely know the girl.”
“With that attitude, what do you expect, young lady?” Grace turns to Abby. “Madison’s being very rude. I think you look just darling.”
Abby whispers to Grace; they laugh.
Dwight stomps down the hall from the master bedroom. His thinning hair and mustache are neatly combed; his pleated khakis are pressed, and his large ass fills the rear tightly. His pants are pulled up high, exposing a bit of blue sock. His blue short-sleeved, button-down shirt is tucked in tight with a Pittsburgh Steelers tie.
Grace smiles, revealing coffee-stained teeth. “Uh-oh, Dwighty bear. You’re gonna be in trouble today with that tie.”
Dwight laughs, mostly keeping his teeth covered. Matt catches a glimpse of bright yellow. “I can always start talkin’ about Super Bowls, if they give me a hard time. That shuts up those Eagle fans pretty darn quick.”
Grace glances at the clock on the microwave. “Matt, it’s almost time to go. You need to hurry up and get changed.”
“I won’t be going to church. I’m not religious,” Matt says.
“Well, that doesn’t stop us with Madison,” Grace says. “You may not know it, but you need God more than ever now.”
“I’d still rather not. Besides, I don’t have anything nice to wear.”
“Oh, nonsense. Dwight can give you anything you need. Can’t you, Dwight?”
“I’ve got tons of church clothes. I’ll go get you a few things.” Dwight exits the kitchen.
“I’d still prefer not to go, even with church clothes,” Matt says.
“Heavens to Betsy, you have to go,” Grace says.
“George doesn’t have to go,” Madison says.
“He’s older, and he has to work anyway.”
“Bullshit,” Madison mutters under her breath.
Dwight returns. “Here ya go, Matt. I’ve got the works for ya. Pants, a shirt, and a tie.”
Matt takes the clothes to his room. He takes off his jeans and puts on the pleated khakis. He runs his belt through the loops. The pants are baggy and a few inches long. He tightens his belt to make the generous waist fit. He puts on his boots, and the pant legs gather at his feet. He shrugs into the short-sleeved button-down shirt. It’s quite a few sizes too large, so he tucks it into his pants. He clips on the brown paisley necktie. He looks at himself in the mirror over the dresser and frowns. He thinks about Uncle toward the end in his oversize clothes. Matt treks back to the kitchen.
“Oh, my God, he’s dressed like Dwight.” Abby laughs with her right hand over her heart.
At church Matt is sandwiched between Ryan and Madison. Madison scribbles in her notebook; Ryan plays with his Game Boy. Abby stares, fixated on the young pastor. Pastor Roberts is bearded, with long, wavy brown hair and large brown eyes, not unlike the life-size Jesus nailed to the cross behind him.
“Nine thousand years ago, when God created this bright blue planet in six short days, it was a miracle,” Pastor Roberts says. “Nonbelievers often ask me how He did it. Truth be told, I don’t know how He did it, but I have faith that He did, because I look around and I see miracles every day. Is a newborn baby not a miracle? How about the Rocky Mountains? Or Niagara Falls? Is it not a miracle that all of us are here today, full of faith in a world gone mad? I see all of you, and my heart swells with love for each and every one. Where does that love come from? Where does all love come from, if not from God? The love I feel for all of you is as strong and real as the heat I feel when I put my hand over an open flame.”
Matt and his foster family pile out of the pew and work their way down the crowded aisle. Grace and Dwight shake hands and bless their neighbors on the way. Matt freezes; his stomach plummets. He recognizes the face, but not the expression. The wide nose, big mouth, curly blond hair, and eyes almost on the side of his head like a hammerhead shark, are unmistakably Chief Campbell’s, but his smile and gregarious affectations are wholly unfamiliar to Matt.
The chief holds onto the hand of a dark-haired, blue-eyed, fair-skinned woman, reminiscent of Snow White. A younger version of the woman is close behind, followed by a familiar face in a blue suit that Matt can’t quite place. As the line starts to move, the athletically built boy struts with a hitch in his step. Matt’s mind flashes back to the gangster wannabe, Colton. Matt feels like he’s at a reunion filled with fire and brimstone. The Campbell family stops near the door to talk to the Hansens.
Chip Hansen holds Dr. Hansen’s purse, while she smiles and exchanges pleasantries with the chief. Tyler and Colton walk out together. Emily stands, eyeing the exit, in a sundress with a white sweater and flats. She is more beautiful than Matt remembers. He feels weak. He grabs on to a pew and sits down, camouflaged by the crowd. He peers around churchgoers to keep her in his line of sight. His heart beats quickly. She’s gone.
The church is mostly vacant. Matt trudges toward the exit, his pant legs scraping the ground and his short sleeves touching the middle of his forearms. Grace stands in front, flirting with Pastor Roberts. She flips her hair, laughs, and touches his arm in one fluid motion.
“I was wondering what happened to you,” Grace says to Matt. “Come over here and meet Pastor Roberts.”
“Hello, Matt. I’ve heard so much about you,” the pastor says, as he holds out his hand. “What did you think of the sermon?”
“It was good … for what it was intended,” Matt replies, as he lets go of the pastor’s hand.
The young pastor chuckles. “I’m not really sure how to take that, but I’ll just chalk it up as a compliment.”
“You’re gonna be late, if you don’t get your little bee-hind moving,” Grace says to Matt.
“Late?”
“Sunday school, silly. Follow those boys across the parking lot.”
Matt stands, like his feet are set in concrete.
“I’ll take him,” the pastor says. “I’ve got the high school kids today.”
Matt follows the pastor into the classroom. A collective roar of laughter from twenty teenagers fills the room upon Matt’s entry. His eyes meet Emily’s
, and she looks away. Colton and Tyler laugh and pound on their desks. Madison sits in the back corner, her desk moved away from the others, looking out the window. Matt takes the only available seat, dead center in front.
“All right, that’s enough everyone. Settle down,” Pastor Roberts says. “Let’s start with a verse from Mark 10:25. ‘It is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the kingdom of God.’ Anyone wanna try to explain this verse?”
Abby’s hand shoots up.
“Go ahead, Abby.”
“I think it means that poor people are more likely to get into heaven, and the rich are probably going to hell. You know, like ‘the meek will inherit the earth.’”
“Thank you, Abby. Anyone else?”
Colton raises his hand, leaning back, slouched in his desk.
“Colton?”
“I think it means ballers be goin’ to heaven, knowamean?” A smirk spreads across Colton’s face.
Pastor Roberts suppresses a smile. “Anyone else? Anyone?”
Matt raises his hand, his jaw set tight.
“Matt, go ahead.”
Tyler and Colton cough into their hands. “Farmer.” Cough. “Faggot.” Cough.
“I think it’s simply a propaganda piece to make the downtrodden feel as though they don’t need wealth in this life,” Matt says. “That it’s okay to let those in charge in the church and in government take their money through donation and taxation, because they’ll receive their reward in a nonexistent afterlife.”
The room is silent, the kids motionless. Pastor Roberts paces, stroking his beard.
“Now, Matt, you seem like a smart kid, so I don’t wanna embarrass you, but you do know that Jesus was destitute. He gave everything he had to us, including his life. Now I can’t speak for the government, but I do know that the church does a tremendous amount to help the … downtrodden, as you say. We certainly do nothing to keep them down.”
“When you propagandize children, making them suspend disbelief, it confuses them and makes them more gullible for the rest of their lives,” Matt says. “It’s child abuse to send kids to church.”
The teenagers in the room erupt in a collective revulsion that manifests in groaning and random shouts of “Bullshit” and “Faggot.”
“Hold on, everyone. Matt is entitled to his opinion,” Pastor Roberts says. “It’s up to us to show grace and help him find his way.”
Tyler stands up. “Hold on, hold on. Is this little dirt ball saying that our parents are abusing us by taking us to church? And he thinks Jesus is a lie? That’s bullshit, because I saw on the History channel that He existed.”
“Let’s be respectful, Tyler. I don’t think that’s what he’s saying,” Pastor Roberts says.
“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Matt says.
The room erupts with taunts. Someone kicks the back of Matt’s chair.
“That’s enough!” Pastor Roberts says. “How can we survive tests of faith, if we can’t debate a young man in crisis?”
The room settles down.
“My heart goes out to Matt,” Pastor Roberts says. “I’ll never give up on him, but he has some pretty strong opinions and myths we need to dispel, for us and for Matt. Now, tell us how you could possibly know Jesus is a lie.”
“Jesus Christ may have existed as a man, but he was not the Son of God, because God doesn’t exist.”
The pastor chuckles to himself. “Just because you can’t see Him, doesn’t mean He’s not there. In fact He’s everywhere. How could you possibly explain the Rocky Mountains or Niagara Falls?”
“Niagara was formed by glaciers receding and the great lakes cutting through the Niagara escarpment. The Rocky Mountains were formed by tectonic plates shifting.”
“Matt, you’re missing the point. Who do you think caused the plates to shift or the glacier to recede?”
“Well, it certainly wasn’t your god, because you said today that the world was created nine thousand years ago. The Rocky Mountains were created three hundred million years ago.” Matt crosses his arms.
“I think you need to check your facts on that. I’ve studied religion my entire life. I can assure you, we know what we’re doing.”
“That, I can agree with,” Matt says, glaring at the pastor.
“Let’s take your other assertion that the church is abusing children. This is awfully inflammatory, don’t you think? Would you like to take a trip to our day-care center or watch as we help out at the children’s hospital? Have you ever been to a pediatric burn unit?”
“It’s not the charity work, it’s what you teach. If I had kids, and I made them go to church in my basement and taught them about a unicorn god that craps out rainbows but would send them to a fiery place for all eternity if they didn’t follow the unicorn rules plus give the unicorn 10 percent of their salary, then people would say that was child abuse or more likely that it was a crazy unicorn cult, and I’d probably have my kids taken from me by the state. That is no different than teaching kids about a god who heals the sick, walks on water, makes water out of wine, and scaring them with tales of hell, if they don’t do what the church tells them to.”
“We need to step outside,” Pastor Roberts says.
The teenagers let out a collective “Oooooo” and “Busted.”
The pastor guides Matt outside. “Now, I know you’ve had it rough, with your uncle passing, but this is not the way to handle it. I can’t let you poison the well here. Your uncle would not want you acting out in this way. He’s looking down on you right now, hoping you’ll make the right decision. Now what do you think he’d say?”
Matt stands silent for a moment. “I know exactly what my uncle would say.”
The pastor’s face softens.
“He’d tell you to stick it where the sun don’t shine.”
[ 9 ]
School Daze
“You’re not gonna wear that again, are you?” Grace asks.
“It’s clean,” Matt says.
Matt stands by the front door, dressed in generic jeans and his gray JDCAP T-shirt, with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Grace wears her blue ankle-length nightgown.
“That’s not the point,” she says. “You don’t want everyone to know that you were in juvie. It’s a bad first impression. And, after yesterday, you need to make a good impression.”
“I appreciate your concern, but it doesn’t matter to me.”
“It should, mister. Pastor Roberts banned you from church.”
The corners of Matt’s mouth turn up for a split second. “For how long?”
“I really don’t know.” Grace throws her hands up. “You’re not gonna lie around here on Sundays, when we all go to church. You’re gonna have chores to do, mister.”
“I think I can handle the chores.”
“Well, you’re gonna need to get a job too. I expect you home today at three o’clock sharp. I’m gonna take you over to the Hardee’s. Dwight will set you up with an after-school job.”
Matt exits the front door. A sparkling black Ford Mustang with tinted windows idles in the driveway. Through the front windshield, Matt sees George and Abby kissing. George’s hand is up her shirt.
Matt passes the Mustang and meanders on the concrete sidewalk. He searches for honeybees in the close-cropped, chemical-laden lawns. He sees none. Matt hears the pounding of boots and the shuffling of shoes not tied. He looks over his shoulder to see Madison and Ryan.
“Hey, Matt,” Ryan says, his hair wet in the back and front to keep his cowlicks down.
Matt stops, waiting for his foster brother and sister. “Hey, Ryan, Madison.”
Madison lifts her chin in acknowledgment. She walks next to Matt in silence for a block. Ryan follows closely behind.
“I liked what you said in church,” Madison says, looking away, her jet-black hair covering one eye.
“I don’t think anyone else did,” Matt replies.
“I really hope you don’t gi
ve a shit what they think.” Madison’s one eye is focused on Matt’s face.
“Of course I care. Don’t you?”
Madison recoils, as if opening a package of spoiled fish. “Then why did you say that shit about church being all about brainwashing and manipulation? Everybody who’s anybody in this town goes to church. You can’t be that dense to not know what you’re doing. You could just go along with it, and your life would be much easier. The way you look, you could get yourself some decent clothes, and, with an attitude adjustment, you’d fit right in.”
Matt doesn’t respond.
The throaty roar of a V-8 engine interrupts the silence. “Bitches,” Abby says, with two middle fingers hanging out the passenger window of the Mustang.
Madison glowers at the greeting. Matt’s unfazed.
“I said that stuff about the church because it’s true,” Matt says. “The truth is more important than fitting in.”
“Really? That’s what you care about?”
“More than anything.”
Madison laughs. “Good luck with that.”
The trio arrives at Jefferson Elementary. Buses line the curb at the main entrance. Cars creep along, jockeying for a closer spot to drop off their precious cargo. Ryan hides behind Madison, his chin tucked into his chest.
“Let’s go, Ryan. We’ll do this together,” Madison says.
“Maddy, no, I can’t,” Ryan says, his voice trembling and unsteady.
“It’s gonna be fine. We’ll do it together.”
“Matt too?”
Madison and Ryan look at Matt.
“Sure, why not,” Matt says.
The trio walks toward the elementary-school entrance. Matt leans toward Madison.
“What are we doing exactly?” Matt whispers.
“Just helping the little man get to class.” Madison flashes a wicked grin.
Children bustle up and down the hallways. A few girls lock arms and skip down the corridor. A group of boys trade football cards like riverboat gamblers. The hallway is decorated with finger paintings, sketches, and papier-mâché art projects. Teachers sit at their desks, oblivious to the chaos outside their classrooms. The card-trading boys glare at Ryan. Matt and Madison stop at a classroom doorway.
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