Rapture Practice

by Aaron Hartzler

  “How was that?” he asks.

  “I don’t think Erica and I are… a match.”

  “No kidding,” he says, laughing. “She’s as buttoned up as they come.”

  “She’s really sweet and my parents love her, but I don’t think she’d ever sneak out to a movie with me.”

  “Wait,” Bradley says. “You have to sneak out to movies? Like, you’re not allowed to go to movies?”

  “Yeah, movies are right up there with P.M. Dawn.”

  “What do you do for fun?” he asks.

  “Hopefully, hang out with you.”

  “Done,” he says.

  Bradley parks next to my car. “Well, congrats.” He sticks out his hand.

  I shake it. “For what?”

  “You survived your first day at Tri-City,” he says.

  I smile, and nod. “Praise the Lord.”

  Bradley laughs as I climb out of his car and close the door.

  CHAPTER 13

  “Do Bradley and his parents go to church at Tri-City?” Mom asks. She’s all smiles this afternoon, very excited that I’m making friends so soon.

  “I don’t think so,” I say, biting into one of Mom’s first-day-of-school chocolate chip cookies at the kitchen table. Mom is a diabetic and a label reader. She believes in healthy after-school snacks like carrot sticks and apple slices, except for the first day of school: homemade chocolate chip cookies, fresh from the oven.

  “Did you hear Bradley say where they go to church in discipleship group?” I ask Josh as Dad walks into the kitchen loosening his tie, and kissing Mom.

  “No,” he says. “I didn’t.”

  I am dangling the discipleship group in front of Dad in hopes of distracting him from where Bradley goes to church. Here’s the deal: I know Mom and Dad will never let me go to Bradley’s house if they hear that his parents are divorced and living together, or that rock music is on the agenda. I’m sure Bradley’s mom and dad don’t go to church anywhere, and I’m sure if my mom and dad know all of this, Bradley and I will not get to hang out. There will be no TV, no movies, and no music.

  I hate lying to my parents, but if I want to hang out with Bradley, I don’t have a choice. I try to make the lies as small as possible. I try not to actually lie, but I don’t go into extended detail about the whole story. I try to mix as much truth as I can with some things that are probably true and only a few things that are probably not true, in order to get the answer I want from Mom and Dad. My goal is to keep the actual lie-to-truth ratio as low as possible.

  It’s my first day at a new school, and I’m already back to my old tricks.

  “Bradley is in your discipleship group?” Dad takes the bait.

  “He’s actually the leader of the group.”

  “It’s so great that he’s reaching out to you guys already,” Dad says. “He’s in the play with you, isn’t he?”

  I nod. “Bradley wanted me to spend the night on Friday so we can run lines before rehearsal on Saturday.”

  “Are his parents going to be there?” Mom asks.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Where did you say they go to church?” asks Dad.

  “I’m not sure. I’ll ask him tomorrow.”

  “Okay,” Dad says.

  I can tell he wants to say yes. He wants to know that I don’t hate him anymore. He wants me to have friends. This is the tricky part—the part where I have to make it seem certain that they can trust me, that I’ve had a fresh start at this new school—a spiritual awakening. I have to make it appear as authentic as possible, because the truth is, I don’t care what Mom and Dad think about Bradley. I just want them to let me go.

  I can feel the nervousness inching up at the back of my throat. This is delicate work, like defusing a bomb. I can’t go too fast, or it’ll get sloppy. I’ve seen Dad deal with people I know he thinks are a little wacky at churches or at the Bible college, and he has this way of speaking to them so sincerely. It’s not an act. It’s an incredible skill he has that makes every person he comes into contact with feel cared for, seen, and heard. I try to affect his people skills now as I try to persuade him that Bradley is the kind of friend he’d want me to have.

  “How long has Bradley attended Tri-City?” Dad asks.

  Bingo. This is my “in.”

  “He actually came over from Lee’s Summit last year.” (The true part.) “He didn’t have very many Christian friends, and they were teaching lots of evolution in his science classes.” (The might-be-true part.) Bradley probably didn’t have a lot of Christian friends at his public school, and they probably did teach evolution in his science classes. He hadn’t actually told me that, but it was very probable, and it was exactly what I needed.

  Dad nods thoughtfully. “That’s quite a sacrifice for parents to make. Tuition is expensive at Tri-City. The only reason we can afford to have you kids there is because they give me a discount for being employed in a full-time Christian ministry.”

  “Bradley really likes Tri-City,” I tell Dad. “He says it’s a lot easier without all of the peer pressure.” (The not-true-at-all part.) I cringe a little on the inside, but I know I’m speaking Dad’s language. I know what he wants to hear.

  “Sounds like Bradley really has a heart for the Lord. I think it’d be okay.” Dad turns to Mom. “Honey, what do you think?”

  Mom is starting dinner. “I think it sounds fine,” she says. “Can you bring your brothers home from play practice on Saturday if I drop them off?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I’m really glad you’ve made a friend already,” Dad says, and smiles.

  Relief floods over me, followed by a torrent of guilt. I got what I wanted: the buy-in on Bradley. Something else hits me: Mom and Dad don’t know anyone at this new school. They don’t know who the “good” kids are—the ones my dad would say “have a heart for the Lord.” They don’t know which families go to church where. They have to trust me to tell them the truth.

  But they shouldn’t.

  After dinner, I practice the piano for an hour and then call Daphne.

  “You survived,” she says. “How was it?”

  “Weird. I missed you.”

  “Likewise. I’m not sure who is going to plan the junior/senior banquet now that you’re gone. When the committee met today to select themes for the evening, Dan Krantz suggested ‘A Night at the Bean Dip Ballroom.’ Any new-friend prospects?” she asks.

  “Well, Erica was there, of course.”

  “From the Valentine’s Day banquet two years ago?”

  “That’s the one.” I sigh. We’d double-dated with Daphne that night. It was weird. Daphne’s date was the son of her mother’s friend, and he didn’t speak to her the entire night. “The night of Silent Joe.”

  “Eighteen months, and I still wake up screaming,” says Daphne.

  “The only thing more strange was Erica’s dress.”

  Daphne laughs. “Well, it matched your cummerbund perfectly.”

  “Yes,” I say, and sigh again. “All seventy yards of fabric.”

  “It was certainly a full-coverage banquet gown,” Daphne agrees. “Where do you think she bought it?”

  “Her mom made it.”

  “I remember I was glad you didn’t get her a wrist corsage,” says Daphne.

  “Yeah, because you couldn’t see her wrists.”

  “Or her ankles.”

  “I’m surprised it didn’t come with a hood.”

  “Still, Erica was very sweet,” she says.

  “Yes, at least she could talk,” I agree.

  “Her mouth was the only thing on her body the dress didn’t cover.”

  Daphne and I have to stop talking for a minute because we are laughing so hard. Finally, she takes a deep breath. “Okay. Other potential friends?”

  “There’s this senior named Bradley. He asked me to come over and hang out this weekend.”

  “See? I knew it’d be no problem for you.”

  “Well, the jur
y is still out. We’ll see if Dad and Mom let me go.”

  “How are they doing with all of this?”

  “Happy as clams,” I say. “It’s weird. I realized today that they don’t know who the good kids are, so they sort of have to…”

  “Trust you?” Daphne asks. I can hear her smile over the phone.

  “Yeah.”

  “I smell trouble.” Daphne knows me better than anyone.

  “I will not stand for these wild allegations.”

  Daphne sighs. “I have to start reading Silas Marner.”

  “I have to start reading A Tale of Two Cities.”

  “Keep me posted,” she says.

  “I will. I have some ideas for the Bean Dip Ballroom.”

  She laughs and tells me good-bye.

  “The person with the dirtiest towel wins.”

  Coach Hauser is speaking in our Friday chapel service. Between second and third period each week we all walk down the hall to the giant church auditorium, sing a few hymns, and listen to a sermon. It’s like a mini church service, in addition to our daily Bible class. Coach Hauser is the PE teacher and basketball coach. He’s been speaking about John 13, where Jesus washes his disciples’ feet at the Last Supper.

  “I want to see the most popular kids in our school being the biggest servants to others. That’s what Jesus taught us by his example: Humility is not weakness. It’s using your power to serve others. Jesus was the Son of God, the creator of heaven and earth. But the night before he died, he grabbed a cloth and a basin and washed the dirty feet of the men who followed him. As we start a new school year, let’s see who can be the biggest servant among us. How dirty is your towel? Whose feet will you wash today?”

  Walking out of the church auditorium, I head back toward my locker to grab my chemistry notes. Bradley intercepts me and pulls me over toward the bulletin board outside the office. The list is tacked directly in the center:

  SENIOR HIGH SELECT VOCAL ENSEMBLE

  Twelve names are listed, including Erica’s, Bradley’s, and mine.

  “So glad you’ll be there,” Bradley says. “See you eighth period.”

  When we meet back up in the choir room that afternoon, Erica is about to explode. “I knew you’d make the ensemble. This is so great!”

  “Yeah, wait’ll you see the outfits Mrs. Friesen picked out.” Bradley sighs.

  “Outfits?” I ask.

  “Just saw her squealing over them in the office. This year it’s mauve polyester blazers to match the flowers on the girls’ dresses.”

  “Mauve?” I whisper, blinking, horrified.

  “We’re going to look like a country craft.”

  Mr. Green, the music teacher, walks in and starts class as the bell rings. “Welcome to senior high ensemble,” he says, adjusting his glasses. “I hold auditions for this group so we can sing music more challenging than ‘Mr. Whole Note Takes a Walk.’ ” He tells us to start thinking now about duets, trios, and quartets. “We’ll need some song selections of your own for the tour in the spring, and anyone who plays an instrument should be working on a solo of some kind as well,” he says.

  I nudge Erica. “Hey,” I whisper. “Maybe we can do that song we sang at camp this summer?”

  Erica frowns. “I don’t know about that,” she says slowly.

  “What song is it?” Tyler Gullem, a senior, pipes up from behind us as Mr. Green passes out sheet music and folders.

  “It’s this great song that—”

  “That you’ll have to wait to hear until next week!” Erica cuts me off.

  “You sang it at camp last summer?” Tyler presses.

  I open my mouth to say something, but Erica leaps in again. “Yep. We did—right before Aaron’s dad preached at the evening service.”

  She turns to me with a grin even larger than her standard smile, and her eyes go a little bit wider than usual. Without moving her mouth, she whispers through her teeth at me, “We’ll talk about it later.”

  After singing for an hour, the bell rings, and Erica follows me to my locker.

  “Aaron, you have to be careful,” she says earnestly.

  “About what?” I ask, loading up my backpack. I’m headed to Bradley’s tonight, and I want to get out of here.

  “Nobody can know that song we sang at camp was a Sandi Patty song, or else they won’t let us sing it in chapel,” she whispers conspiratorially.

  Sandi Patty is a contemporary Christian singer whose recordings are sometimes a little jazzy even for my parents, but as long as I sang them accompanied by a piano, there wasn’t a problem. “Sandi Patty is off-limits… completely?” I ask in disbelief. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “It’s just the way they are here,” she says.

  “Fine. I’ll Wite-Out her name on the music and photocopy it before I bring it in.”

  “I don’t know,” Erica says. “Isn’t that… lying?”

  I heave a sigh as I stuff books into my backpack. “My parents are the most conservative people I know, and if they like this song, why is it a problem?”

  “Okay,” she says. “I don’t want to be deceitful.”

  I shake my head. “So tell them the truth.”

  “They’ll never let us do the song, then.”

  I sigh. “Feels like a lot of hassle to sing a song. Let’s just pick something else, then.”

  “Hartzler!” Bradley pops around the corner, making Erica jump at least a foot in the air. “What’s up? You ready to head out?”

  “Sure,” I say. “Give me a second.”

  “Cool—meet me down in the parking lot. We can leave your car here tonight, and I’ll bring you back for rehearsal tomorrow.”

  “You’re going to Bradley’s house?” Erica asks, frowning.

  “Yeah, we’re going to run lines tonight.”

  “Oh… well… have fun,” she says. “Is anybody else going over there?”

  Her question irks me for some reason. “I don’t really know what he’s got planned.”

  Erica stands there, staring at me.

  “What?” I ask, zipping my choir folder into my backpack. “I’m just getting to know Bradley.”

  “But his parents aren’t… married… and they’re living together.”

  “So?” I snap. I am annoyed with this conversation. I already have to finesse everything I want to do with my parents. I don’t need this from my friends, too.

  “Well… I guess I didn’t think you’d be hanging out with people who…”

  “Who what? Who asked me to come hang out my first week at my new school?” Crap. That came out wrong. I feel guilty instantly. Erica’s been nothing but nice to me. She blushes, and looks at her shoes.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, quickly. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  She turns to leave.

  “Erica… wait.”

  She stops as I close my locker and sling my backpack over my shoulder.

  “You aren’t going to be my only friend here,” I say quietly. “But you were my first friend here. And that’s important.”

  She looks at the floor, then down the hall past my shoulder and sighs, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Don’t forget to bring the music Monday,” she says. Then she turns around and walks down the hall.

  “You in a hurry?” Megan has materialized at my locker again. It’s strange how I never see her coming.

  “Headed down to meet up with Bradley.”

  “Bradley?” she asks. “That’s trouble.”

  “Don’t worry, I already got the lecture from Erica.”

  “Oh, jeez.” She laughs, and I can’t help joining her. She laughs with no reservations, daring anyone to hear her. “Do you have any idea how into you she is?”

  I look up at her, a little surprised. I thought I was the only one who noticed.

  “I don’t wanna know.”

  “Let’s just say that the picture of you two at the Valentine’s banquet at Blue Ridge is still in her locker. From two years ago.”

&nb
sp; “Please tell me it’s the wallet-size shot.”

  “Five-by-seven, handsome.” Megan is enjoying this. “So, I’ll see you at rehearsal tomorrow?” she asks.

  “Yeah. Bradley and I are running lines tonight.”

  “That’s what I hear,” she says, breezily sweeping her curls behind her shoulder.

  “From whom?” I ask. News travels fast around here.

  “Angela was telling me at practice. One of the JV girls wanted all the details when your name came up. Ashley? She’s a sophomore—in your geometry class.” Megan says this like an indictment.

  “Oh, yeah… Ashley.” I pretend I haven’t really given her much thought. She’s as curvy as Megan is lean and athletic. They couldn’t be more different. “She seems nice.”

  “She seems about ten pounds too heavy for a basket toss.” Megan laughs. “Sturdy, that one. She’s a base until further notice.”

  “She said she was the captain of the squad at her public school last year.”

  “She says lots of things,” Megan replies a little too sweetly.

  We walk down the stairs and out the back door to the parking lot. The late August sun shimmers off the sweltering blacktop like an unholy ghost. Angela is sitting in the front seat of Bradley’s car and jumps out as she sees us coming.

  “Hi, Angela.” Megan smiles, then waves at Bradley. “You two going to cause some trouble tonight?” she asks.

  “Gonna try,” Bradley says. “Maybe we’ll cruise Nolan. See what the public-school girls are up to.”

  Megan laughs. “Angela, you better keep these two on a short leash.”

  “Don’t worry,” says Angela, her hands on her hips. “The public-school girls will be up to nothing at all tonight,” she says pointedly. Then she smiles and says, “At least not for Bradley. Aaron, on the other hand…”

  “Public-school girls terrify me,” I say. “Don’t they eat Christian schoolboys for dinner?”

  “Why do you think we’re gonna cruise Nolan?” Bradley laughs.

  I get into the passenger seat and buckle up.

  “Have fun tonight,” Megan says.

  Bradley backs out slowly as Megan and Angela head back inside to change for cheerleading practice.