Point of No Return

by Paul McCusker

  “No,” Karen said quickly. “Telling them would be the same as telling everyone else. I’m not ready to do that yet. This is so serious. They’d make me confront Mr. Laker. I don’t know if I can do that.”

  Lucy turned to face Karen. “Jesus exposed the darkness in the world. He got after the religious leaders for leaving God out of all their rules. Isn’t it the same here?”

  “Maybe it is,” Karen said. “But they crucified Jesus in the end, remember?”

  “And God raised Him from the dead,” Lucy pointed out.

  Karen groaned. “But will He raise me after Mr. Laker gets done with me? I wish I could pretend I didn’t see anything. I’m a nervous wreck!”

  Lucy ached for her friend, but could only say, “I’m sorry, Karen, I want to help you. But I’m not the Holy Spirit. Is there time to go somewhere and pray?”

  “No! I have to go meet him now.”

  Lucy scratched her chin thoughtfully. “Maybe Mr. Laker won’t even bring it up. You know, he might want to meet with you about something else.”

  Karen looked at her friend hopefully. “Do you really think so?”

  “That could be your test. Why don’t you wait and see if Mr. Laker brings it up? If he does, then you’ll probably have to tell him what you know. You can’t lie. Jesus wouldn’t. But if he doesn’t mention it, then you’ll have time to think about what to do. You’ll have to tell your parents, you know.”

  “I know. And I will.” Karen backed away from Lucy to go to the office. “Pray for me,” she said.

  Lucy watched Karen disappear around the corner, then slumped against the wall. She was trying to be strong for her friend. She wanted to encourage her to do the right thing. Yet, in her heart, Lucy was deeply afraid of what Mr. Laker might do to Karen. If he was truly guilty of breaking the school’s policy—a policy that was put there for very good reasons—then he might try to protect himself. How, though? How far would Mr. Laker go to keep himself out of trouble? The possible answers worried Lucy.

  Mr. Laker waved to the metal chair just opposite to his desk. “Sit down, Karen.”

  “Yes, sir,” Karen said and sat down. She still held her books close, pressing them against her lap.

  “I’ll come right to the point. You’re an impressive young girl, Karen. Talented, too. You play the oboe, I know.”

  Karen wasn’t sure what to say. Discussing her oboe-playing wasn’t what she thought they were going to do. “The oboe? Yes, I do,” she stammered.

  “I heard you at the last school concert. You’re quite remarkable.”

  Karen blushed and said, “Thank you.”

  “Are you familiar with the Campbell County Youth Orchestra?” he asked, peering at his nails indifferently.

  Karen brightened. “Are you kidding? Sure I’ve heard of it. It’s the best there is.”

  Mr. Laker chuckled and said, “There’re probably one or two that’s better. But you’re right: They’re the best in this state for their age group. They take only the brightest students and the most talented players.”

  “Yes, sir. I hope to play with them one day. Maybe next year.”

  “How about this year?”

  Karen tilted her head, unsure of how to take the question. “I beg your pardon?”

  Mr. Laker sat forward in the chair again. “Karen, I’m pleased to tell you that you’ve been selected to play the oboe for the Campbell County Youth Orchestra.”

  “What?” Karen sat up so quickly that she spilled her books. As she retrieved them from the floor, she asked, “Me? Did you say me? Play in the Campbell County Youth Orchestra?”

  Mr. Laker nodded his head happily. “It’s a paid position, with money going to your future education. You, of course, know the orchestra’s sterling reputation—not to mention the many opportunities it presents.”

  Karen was genuinely speechless. “I don’t know what to say, Mr. Laker! How did it happen? I mean, why did they suddenly choose me?”

  “They had an unexpected opening and…” He paused and looked away as if he was suddenly embarrassed. “I shouldn’t say.”

  “Shouldn’t say what?”

  “Well, I’m a member of the orchestra’s selection committee. I put your name forward as a candidate. Just last night, as a matter of fact. The rest of the committee agreed unanimously.”

  “I can’t believe this!” Karen squealed and nearly dropped her books again.

  He raised a finger. “Oh—there’s only one tiny drawback.”

  “Drawback?” she asked anxiously.

  “Yes,” he said. “You’ll have to resign as president of the student council. The orchestra puts in an awful lot of practice hours, you know. That’s why they’re so good. You wouldn’t have time for both.”

  Karen was awash with relief. “Is that all? Who cares about being on the student council when I can perform with the orchestra!”

  “I thought as much,” Mr. Laker said with a smile.

  In her excitement, Karen suddenly wondered why she had always been so afraid of Mr. Laker. He’s a nice man, she thought. She’d misjudged him. Maybe even the file had an easy explanation; it was a mistake; she had misunderstood what she saw. Who cared about it now? She was going to play for the Campbell County Youth Orchestra!

  Unexpectedly, a small voice whispered in the back of her mind: What would Jesus do?

  The answer this time seemed obvious to her. Jesus would use His God-given talents to play for the orchestra. It wasn’t as if being president of the student council had anything to do with her future anyway. Jesus would say yes.

  Would He? The question made her terribly uncomfortable.

  Mr. Laker’s smile faded. “Karen?”

  “I need to talk to my parents,” she suddenly heard herself saying. Even as the words came out, she wanted to stop them. She was afraid he’d take the offer back just because she didn’t say yes right away.

  “I’d never let you do it without talking to your parents first.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Laker.” She stood up to leave and said again awkwardly, “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” He thrust his hand out to her and she shook it.

  It was cold and clammy. A chill went up and down her spine.

  CHAPTER TEN

  JACK FINISHED THE LAST of his French fries and pushed the plate and the cafeteria tray aside. Matt was still eating his hamburger.

  “Where’s Oscar?” asked Jack, scanning the large room and all the students who were eating their lunches.

  Matt glanced around. “Is today when he meets Mrs. McKenzie in the library? She’s been helping him with his reading lately.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Joe Devlin, a large kid with greasy dark hair, walked up to the table with a lunch tray. He was followed by a couple of the members of his gang, whose sole purpose in life was to laugh at Joe’s jokes and win his fights. “It’s Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum,” Joe said to Jack and Matt.

  Joe’s pals snickered obediently.

  “And you must be the Three Stooges,” Matt said.

  “Do we want to make these two clowns move so we can sit here, boys?” Joe asked his cohorts.

  “You’ll have to wait until I’m finished eating,” Matt said.

  Joe reached over and shoved his forefinger through the top of Matt’s hamburger. “Feels cold,” he said with a smirk. “You don’t want to eat the rest of that anyway. Get lost.”

  Matt leapt to his feet. “That’s not funny, Joe!”

  “You gonna do something about it?” Joe challenged him.

  “Yeah…” Matt sneered, then quickly grabbed the hamburger off of Joe’s tray and took a bite out of it.

  “Hey!” Joe shouted and slammed his tray down on the table.

  Matt laughed at him until Jack suddenly said, “What would Jesus do, Matt?”

  This was enough to stop Matt—and Joe, turning to Jack, asked, “What did you say?”

  “Is everything all right here?” a deep baritone voice aske
d. It was their principal, Mr. Felegy. He stood well over six feet tall, with a barrelchest, thin sandy-brown hair, and piercing eyes that defied anyone to rebel against his authority.

  “No, sir,” each of them mumbled.

  “Then I suggest you find a table and eat your lunch before the bell rings,” he said and was gone as quickly as he’d arrived.

  Joe forced a chuckle. “It’s okay. Keep the hamburger. I have plenty of money for another lunch today. Compliments of the First Bank of Oscar.” He laughed viciously and his two friends cackled along with him as they walked off.

  Jack and Matt exchanged looks as the meaning of Joe’s words sunk in. They raced out of the cafeteria.

  Jack and Matt found Oscar at the end of the hallway beyond the gym. He sat with his arms wrapped around his bent knees and rocking slightly.

  “Oscar,” Matt called out as they got closer.

  “Are you all right?” asked Jack.

  He looked up at them with pain in his eyes.

  Matt knelt next to him. “Did they hurt you?”

  He shook his head no.

  “Then what happened? They got your lunch money, right?” Jack asked.

  He nodded.

  Matt looked him over. “But they didn’t beat you up. You just gave it to them?”

  He nodded again, then buried his face in his arms and cried softly.

  “Aw, don’t do that,” Jack said as he sat down next to him.

  Oscar sniffled. “You don’t know what it’s like. They pick on me all the time, no matter where I am. They don’t even have to beat me up anymore. I just give them what they want so they’ll go away.”

  Matt clenched and unclenched his fists. “I’m getting pretty tired of Joe. I think it’s time he got taught a lesson.”

  “No,” Oscar said, then lifted his head and spoke louder. “No. You can’t do anything.”

  “Who says we can’t?” Jack growled.

  Oscar looked at Matt, then Jack, and said, “Would Jesus get revenge?”

  Jack groaned. Matt hit his fist against the floor and complained, “I knew you were going to say that!”

  “We made a promise,” Oscar reminded them. “What would Jesus do about this?”

  “I wish we never went to that meeting,” Jack said under his breath.

  Matt stood up and paced angrily. “I won’t ever make a promise— ever again.”

  “I thought you guys were Christians,” Oscar said.

  “Don’t start preaching to us, Oscar,” Jack said. “It’s bad enough that I didn’t see the rest of my movie last night.”

  Oscar shook his head. “I’m not preaching. I’m just saying that we promised to try to follow Jesus. Why did we spend two hours reading through the Bible last night? What did we say? We said that Jesus knew what He was talking about and we should listen to Him.”

  Matt looked at Jack and spread his hands. “He’s preaching to us anyway.”

  Oscar slowly got to his feet. “Getting revenge isn’t what Jesus would do. He said to turn the other cheek. He said to pray for guys who persecute us. He said that people who live by the sword die by the sword.”

  “My dad has a Civil War sword in his den,” Matt said thoughtfully, as if he meant to use it on Joe.

  “So what do you suggest, Reverend Oscar?” Jack asked irritably. “How are we going to stop Joe Devlin? You’ll never eat another lunch as long as he’s around. Unless you want to tell on him.”

  “No,” Oscar said. “I don’t want to be teased for being a tattletale. Besides, he’ll just pick on me when the teachers aren’t around.”

  “So what should we do?” Matt asked. “This isn’t right!”

  Oscar looked at Matt and Joe and spoke sincerely. “Don’t do anything. Don’t even say anything.”

  “I don’t get it,” Jack said.

  Oscar picked up his schoolbooks. “Remember? Jesus didn’t say anything to those guys who crucified Him. He didn’t fight back. He didn’t argue. That’s what I’m going to try with Joe and his gang. I won’t fight back and I won’t fuss. He may get what he wants from me, but it won’t be any fun for him.”

  Though it was a cool autumn day, Lucy and Karen ate their lunches on the patio behind the cafeteria. The air had a hint of winter around its edges, as if it was snowing somewhere far away. Lucy pulled her jacket around her.

  “So, they don’t like any of your ideas?” Karen asked Lucy. They had been talking about Lucy’s meeting that morning with the staff of the Owl.

  “They think I’m crazy.”

  Karen shook her head. “You want to do positive articles. You want to have a more healthy attitude about the news. Why is it crazy to want to do good things?”

  “Because they don’t understand,” Lucy said. She put her sandwich down on the plastic wrap that served as a plate. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot this morning. Y’know, I don’t really know any of the kids I work with. I don’t know if any of them are Christians—”

  “Mike is, isn’t he?”

  Lucy shrugged. “I don’t know for sure. Funny, he’s probably the loudest about me being out of my mind. He said I should resign before I ruin everything and lose all our readers.”

  “Don’t listen to him.”

  “But I know why he’s so mad,” Lucy said. “I understand how they feel. I’d feel the same way if Mrs. Stegner suddenly walked in and said, ‘I’m a Buddhist and I want the Owl to write about Buddhist ideas.’ ”

  “That’s not what you’re doing,” said Karen.

  “I’m sure it seems like it to them. Out of the blue, I come marching in with a whole different way of doing things and it’s like I’m forcing everyone to follow what I believe.” Lucy nibbled at her sandwich, lost in her thoughts, then said, “You see, when Jesus went into various towns and villages, they didn’t know who He was. But when they heard the kinds of things He said, and saw the love He had and the way He healed people, they figured He was someone to listen to. What am I showing the staff of the Owl ? It’s not like I took time to get to know them, or do anything except throw my beliefs at them.”

  “What were you supposed to do, walk on water? Heal their acne?”

  “Somehow I should’ve shown that I care about them—the way Jesus cared. Then maybe they’d be more open to my ideas.”

  A somber silence followed for a minute. Both of the girls seemed to realize the significance of what Lucy was trying to do. The stakes were high. It was entirely possible that it would end with Lucy having to resign.

  “Forget about the Owl,” Lucy abruptly said. “I want to hear your news. You’ve been bursting to tell me ever since we sat down, and I haven’t given you the chance.”

  Karen looked at her coolly. “Oh, it’s nothing special.”

  Lucy raised her eyebrow like a question mark.

  With growing excitement, Karen said, “It’s only that Mr. Laker has asked me to play oboe with the Campbell County Youth Orchestra!”

  Lucy dropped her sandwich. “What?” she squeaked. “Is that why he wanted to see you?”

  Karen nodded quickly. “Yeah! Isn’t that great?”

  “Congratulations!” Lucy said as she half-hugged Karen across the table.

  “The only problem is that I’d have to resign as president of the student council. But I don’t care. Though…”

  “Though what?”

  “I remembered to stop and ask myself what Jesus would do,” Karen said proudly. “So I didn’t tell Mr. Laker yes or no.”

  “Good for you. What do you think Jesus would do?”

  As with so many situations they’d already encountered, Karen gave the standard answer: “I don’t know. Would Jesus play for an orchestra? Would He use His talents like that? Y’know, we keep running into this same brick wall. ‘What would Jesus do?’ ‘I don’t know.’ It’s enough to drive me crazy. I didn’t realize how ignorant I was about Jesus until now.”

  Lucy took her glasses off and cleaned them with a napkin. “There’s something else to conside
r. What if Mr. Laker is doing this to cover himself.”

  Karen said she didn’t understand.

  “What if he’s afraid you looked through the file? What if he’s doing this to sort of bribe you to keep your mouth shut?” Lucy asked.

  Karen’s face fell. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  Lucy said, “Just because he got you a place on the orchestra doesn’t mean you should forget what you saw.”

  Karen blushed. Whether she meant to or not, she had put the file out of her mind. She was ready to drop it. “Oh, Lucy,” she said in despair, “what are we going to do? If I blow the whistle now, I’ll never get to play with the orchestra.”

  “If you blow the whistle, some people will call you a tattletale,” Lucy added. “You could lose your position as president of the student council, too.”

  Karen put her face in her hands. “What am I going to do?”

  Lucy gently touched her arm. “Maybe it’s time we went back to Mr. Whittaker and asked him about some of this stuff. He’s the one who started this situation in the first place. He might have some answers.”

  Karen agreed. “Let’s go after school.”

  Heather Carr caught Karen just as she was headed out the door after school.

  “I’ve been looking for you,” Heather said. They were best friends, though Karen hadn’t seen her since the “pledge.”

  “Hi, Heather. Sorry, but I have to go. I’m late.” Karen was in a rush to get to Whit’s End. She was meeting Lucy there. She had also bumped into Jack, Oscar, and Matt earlier in the hall and they agreed they’d go to Whit’s End for a few answers of their own.

  “A bunch of us are going to the mall,” Heather said. She sounded annoyed. “Do you want to come with us?”

  Karen replied, “I can’t. I have a meeting.”

  “With who? Lucy?” The accusation was unmistakable.

  “Yeah, with Lucy. Why?”

  “It just seems like you’ve been hanging out with her a lot. You don’t have time left for your old friends—like me,” Heather said testily.

  “Cut it out, Heather.” Karen didn’t have the patience for this encounter, but she wanted to explain anyway. “Weren’t you in church last Sunday?”