“No. I was out of town, remember? I told you we were going to my grandmother’s.”
“I forgot. Sorry. Anyway, some of us made a commitment to do everything the way Jesus would do it and it’s…complicated things.”
“I heard all about your complications,” Heather countered. “And I heard that you were offered to play oboe for the orchestra. Thanks for telling me yourself. Do you know how embarrassing it is to learn that your best friend had something exciting happen and didn’t tell you? But now that you’re part of this holier-than-thou club, I guess it’s too much to expect.”
Karen grimaced. “I’m sorry, Heather. I was going to tell you myself, but I haven’t seen you. Besides, I don’t know that I’m going to do it.”
“Too good for the orchestra now?” Heather asked sharply.
“Give me a break. That’s not it. Look, why don’t you come with me to Whit’s End? Then you can see what we’re talking about.”
“No, thanks. I already told the rest of the girls I’d meet them at the mall. Jesus would want me to keep my commitments, wouldn’t He?” She grinned sarcastically, turned away, and walked off.
“Heather, wait!” Karen called out. “You don’t understand.”
Heather didn’t look back or respond.
Karen grumbled under her breath, then remembered the many friends and family members that Jesus had lost due to misunderstanding. She made her way toward Whit’s End.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“SO, WHAT WOULD YOU LIKE to talk about?” Whit asked as he turned the sign on the front door of Whit’s End so the “Closed—Be Back In Thirty Minutes” faced outside. He didn’t want this meeting to be disturbed. “Well? Things aren’t going the way you thought?”
The five of them—Lucy, Karen, Jack, Matt, and Oscar—looked at each other across the table where they had gathered. No one knew who should speak first.
Lucy cleared her throat, then said, “One of the biggest problems is that we don’t know Jesus well enough to figure out what He’d do.”
Whit sat down at the table with them. “We said from the start that that might be a problem. We have to know Him to follow Him. But He didn’t leave us high and dry. We have the Bible and the Holy Spirit.”
“It’s not helping,” Matt complained. “We spent hours looking through the Bible last night and Oscar still got robbed by Joe Devlin.”
Whit turned to Oscar. “Do you want me to talk to Joe’s parents?” he asked.
“No,” Oscar said. “It won’t help. Unless you give me police protection 24 hours a day, Joe will get to me somehow.”
“Mr. Whittaker,” Karen said. “It might sound a little weird, but we don’t want you to do anything about what we have to say. We just need you to listen and…give us some advice.”
He looked into the faces of the five kids, then nodded. “Okay. But I reserve the right to advise you to talk to your parents. Now, let’s take this one at a time. Joe Devlin keeps picking on Oscar. What would Jesus do about that?”
“Hit Joe with lightning bolts from heaven,” Matt suggested.
“Hardly.”
Jack chimed in: “Jesus said to turn the other cheek and now Oscar’s got some whacko idea to—” He hooked his thumb at Oscar. “You tell him, Oscar, and see what he thinks.”
Oscar explained to Whit that he should act like Jesus did before they crucified Him. “He didn’t argue, He didn’t fight back, so that’s what I’m going to do with Joe. I’ll keep my mouth shut and won’t do anything.”
Whit stroked his mustache as if he was considering the idea. “For two thousand years people have tried to decide what Jesus meant by ‘turn the other cheek.’ And for that same amount of time, kids have been dealing with bullies and wondering if what Jesus said applied to their situation. I’ve talked to some parents who say that the only way to lick a bully is to knock him flat.”
“Yeah!” Matt said.
“Other people think that fighting only begets more fighting until someone gets really hurt.” Whit gazed at Oscar. “Chances are, you couldn’t knock Joe flat, right?”
“Nope,” Oscar replied.
“Then you should try your plan to see if it works. What have you got to lose?” Whit concluded.
“Is that it?” Jack asked. “That’s how you figure out what Jesus would do?”
“Following Jesus doesn’t mean you throw away your good sense, Jack,” said Whit. “You’ve studied your Bibles, you’ve explored what Jesus said, and now you’re putting it into action. This is what Oscar believes he should do. It’s his decision—not yours, or Matt’s. God will honor what’s in his heart.”
Both Jack and Matt slid down in their chairs and folded their arms. They didn’t agree, but they kept their mouths shut.
Whit looked at Lucy. “How are you doing, Lucy?”
Lucy shrugged. “Okay, I guess. I didn’t realize that this little experiment would make me feel so…so alone. I’ve got everybody on the Owl’s staff against me.”
“But you’ve got God for you,” Whit said. “And we’re with you in this, too. To listen, to pray…”
“Yeah, I know. And I appreciate it.” Lucy hesitated, then asked, “Do you think Jesus ever felt alone?”
The kindness in Whit’s eyes seemed to sparkle as he looked at Lucy. “I’m sure He did sometimes. In the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus was probably the loneliest person in all of history. But He still said, ‘Thy will be done.’ ”
Somewhere a clock ticked and one of the ice-cream freezers rattled and hummed.
“Karen?” Whit asked.
“It’s lonely,” she said. “And people don’t understand why we’re doing this. They think we’re trying to be better than everyone else.”
“Misunderstanding is part of it,” Whit said. “They misunderstood Jesus and they’ve misunderstood His followers for two thousand years. More often than not, we’re perfectly understood and they still don’t like what we stand for.”
“Isn’t there something else you want to say, Karen?” asked Lucy.
“No. I don’t have anything else right now,” she said.
Lucy looked surprised. “You don’t?”
“No,” Karen said simply, then glanced away.
Whit observed the unspoken argument going on between the girls, then said as if to change the subject, “Would it help if we met like this more often? I get together with some of the adults who made the pledge every couple of days. Mostly we pray. Would you like to do that?”
Each of them mumbled their assent.
Whit chuckled to himself. Their enthusiasm is breathtaking, he thought.
“Let’s spend a little bit of time in prayer, and then I need to open the shop again.”
They bowed their heads.
“What happened?” Lucy asked as they walked down the sidewalk away from Whit’s End. “Why didn’t you tell Mr. Whittaker about Mr. Laker?”
“I didn’t need to. I know what I have to do,” Karen said.
“What?”
“The thing I was supposed to do all along.”
Lucy navigated a step in front of Karen and stood directly in her way. “What are you going to do?”
Karen spoke on the verge of tears. “Did you hear what he said about Jesus? He was all alone in the Garden of Gethsemane. He gave up everything He had—even His life—to do God’s will. Why am I worried about playing for an orchestra? Why should I care if I’m president of the student council? ‘Thy will be done,’ He said. Those words burned inside me.” Karen fought to hold back a sob. “I’ve known all along what I was supposed to do, but I was being a coward. I won’t be one anymore.”
The dam of tears broke. Karen pushed past Lucy and ran down the sidewalk.
CHAPTER TWELVE
FIRST THING THE NEXT MORNING, Karen found herself pacing back and forth in front of Mr. Laker’s office door. He walked in through the main door, dressed in a heavy coat and furry hat. He stopped suddenly when he saw her. “Hi, Karen. What are you doing here?”
“I need to talk to you, Mr. Laker.”
“About the orchestra,” he said as he shoved his key into the door lock. He pushed the door open. “Come in.”
She followed him in, her stomach churning nervously. Did Jesus feel this way when He confronted the Pharisees? Did He want to throw up when He stood before Pilate?
Mr. Laker hung his coat and hat on the coatrack. “Did you talk to your parents?”
“No, sir. Not yet,” she said and swallowed hard. Oh why didn’t she talk to her parents first? She was afraid to, that’s why. She thought her dad would make a federal case out of it. She imagined him calling the police and making her go to court and sit on the witness stand. This way, she could talk to Mr. Laker alone and maybe he’d confess and promise to make amends and then she could forget about the whole thing.
Mr. Laker watched Karen for a moment. “Why not?”
“Because I wanted to talk to you again first,” she said.
“Oh?”
“Yes, sir.” She paused, wishing she had a glass of water. “I’m sorry but I have to say no about the orchestra.”
Mr. Laker looked genuinely disappointed. “That’s too bad. You’d be a wonderful asset, I’m sure. Why won’t you do it?”
“Because…I’m afraid there’s a price tag attached to it that I can’t afford.”
“A price tag? What kind of price tag?”
She’d practiced the speech a hundred times that morning. None of the words came to mind. “Let’s see…does the phrase bribery mean anything to you?”
He blinked a couple of times, but kept his face solidly straight. “You thought I bribed someone to get you on the orchestra?”
Karen tugged at her collar. It seemed awfully hot all of a sudden. “Mr. Laker, I don’t know how to start. But I saw some things in the Ballistic Printing file that you probably didn’t want me to see.”
“Like what?”
“Well…”
“Shall I get the file for you? Maybe that’ll help.” He opened the large filing cabinet drawer and pulled out a manila folder. “You have me worried, Karen. You’re acting like something is seriously wrong.”
He handed the file to her. She was stunned by his behavior and didn’t know what to make of it. Was it some kind of trick? Did he want to get in trouble? She opened the file and worked through the various documents. The papers looked similar, but not identical to the ones she’d seen before. In less than a minute she’d reached the bottom. The bids, the letter, and the copy of the check were gone.
“You took them out,” she said.
“Took what out?”
“Those bids—and the letter—and the check.”
“Bids? Letter? Check?”
Karen turned red. “There were bids in here to print our report cards. Two printers were cheaper than Ballistic Printing, but you went with Ballistic anyway. It’s against school policy to go with a more expensive printer when you have two who are less expensive.”
Mr. Laker chuckled. “I think you must be feverish, Karen. Do you want me to call the school nurse?”
“No, sir.” She took a deep breath to control her quavering voice. “You took a bribe, Mr. Laker. I saw the P.S. on the letter about your socalled gift. And I saw the check. Why would they pay you $2,000 unless it was to keep your business?”
Mr. Laker’s cheeks turned pink, then he forced a smile. “You don’t know what you’re getting into, Karen.”
“I…I want you to admit to what you did and talk to Mr. Felegy. Maybe they won’t fire you,” she said, trying to stick to her plan.
“Maybe they’ll send me to bed without my supper,” Mr. Laker said laughing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. And you can see for yourself that there’s no letter or check in the file.”
“They were there and you know it!”
“Don’t get hysterical,” he urged.
“You got rid of the evidence! I saw them with my own two eyes!”
“Then you better get your eyes checked.”
Karen’s mouth moved, but nothing came out. She could insist over and over, but it wouldn’t make any difference without proof.
“Now, can we stop this nonsense, please?” In the main office area, a door slammed. Someone had arrived. “Good morning!” Mrs. Stewart called from the other room. Karen could hear her drop her purse on the desk.
Mr. Laker spoke louder, as if having a new witness was important. “I don’t know what your problem is, Karen. I tried to do something nice for you by getting you on the orchestra and this is how you say thanks. I feel sorry for you. You need to see a counselor. Get some help.”
“But…but…”
“There’s nothing left to say. You’re going to be late for class.”
Karen turned to leave. All the feeling in her mind and body seemed to disappear.
“Karen,” Mr. Laker added in a low voice, “you’re in over your head with things you know very little about. I’d keep my lips sealed if I were you. Wild accusations will only come back to hurt you. Do you understand?”
Lucy discovered Karen crying in a stall in the bathroom. Recognizing her shoes under the short gray door, she knocked softly. “Karen,” she whispered.
The sniffling from the other side of the door suddenly stopped. “Lucy?”
“Yeah, it’s me.”
The door jerked open and Karen threw herself into Lucy’s arms. “It was awful!” she said. “Awful!”
“What was?” Lucy held her tight for a moment, then held her away at arm’s length. “You have to hurry and tell me—the bell’s about to ring.”
Karen dabbed at her eyes with some toilet tissue. “I talked to Mr. Laker.”
“This morning? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wanted to handle it myself—like Jesus did.” Karen walked over to the sink and despaired of her looks. Her eyes were puffy and her nose rubbed raw from the cheap toilet paper.
“What happened?” Lucy asked as she watched Karen get herself cleaned up.
“He cleaned the file out,” Karen said. “In fact, I’m not even sure it was the same file we saw. I looked like an idiot.”
Lucy leaned against the sink and folded her arms. “What did you think he’d do, break under the truth and confess everything?”
“Yeah, I guess maybe I did,” Karen said, half-smiling. “But he denied everything and said I was ungrateful and needed to see a counselor and…and it’s all true! I must’ve been crazy. What could I do without any proof?”
“Did you tell him about the copies?”
“Copies?”
“The copies we made,” Lucy said. “Remember?”
Karen pressed her hand to her mouth from shock and embarrassment. “My brains have been so tied up that I forgot all about them! I kept thinking about what Jesus would do. And I didn’t think that Jesus would ever need proof.”
“Oh, Karen…” Lucy put her head in her hands and shook her head.
“Where are they?” Karen asked, grabbing for this shred of hope.
“I gave them to you,” Lucy said.
“You did?” She thought about it a moment. “No, you didn’t. You kept them.”
“Honest, Karen, I don’t have them. Check your desk, your notebooks, everywhere. You must have hidden them.”
Karen looked panicked again. “But I didn’t. You made the copies and kept them with you! I’d remember!”
Lucy eyed her skeptically. “How could you remember that when you didn’t even remember there were copies at all?”
“Don’t yell at me,” Karen said. “I’m feeling fragile right now.”
Lucy groaned. “Okay. Maybe I’m wrong. Let’s both check. One of us hid them somewhere!”
“Hey, look! It’s our old buddy Oscar!”
Oscar stopped on the playground and turned to face Joe Devlin and his gang. Out of the corner of his eye, Oscar saw Jack and Matt step through the door into the school building with the rest of the class. Joe and his pals surrounded Oscar lik
e they always did.
“How’s it going, Osc?” Joe asked as he poked a finger into Oscar’s shoulder. “Did you have fun playing soccer in P.E.?”
Oscar took a deep breath, then merely gazed at him.
“What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?” Joe laughed. The gang chortled with him.
Oscar didn’t reply. He simply looked at Joe and waited.
Joe eyed him carefully. “What’s the matter with you? You got laryngitis? Say something.”
Oscar didn’t move, didn’t twitch a face muscle, didn’t react at all.
Joe pushed him. “I said say something.”
Oscar stared at Joe like a little lamb.
“You heard him,” one of the other gang members suddenly said, and shoved him in another direction. “Speak!”
Still no sound from Oscar.
The gang began to taunt him, pushing and jabbing from all sides until he bounced between them like a pinball in a machine. Still, he didn’t say a word. When they tired of that little game, Joe grabbed Oscar by the front of his shirt and pulled him close.
“Say something,” he hissed.
Oscar looked into his eyes, but wouldn’t obey.
Joe thrust him away. “This is getting on my nerves. I’m tempted to give you a good pounding for being so rude.”
Oscar reached into his pocket and silently held out his lunch money.
Joe slapped the money away. “I don’t want your stupid money. I want you to talk to me!”
Oscar continued to look at him without a sound.
Clenching his fists, Joe stepped forward as if he might slug Oscar. “That’s it!”
Oscar closed his eyes and waited for the blow.
It never came. Joe snarled, then turned and marched away. With a few extra shoves for good measure, Joe’s pals brushed past Oscar and followed their leader across the playground toward the school.
Oscar slowly slumped to the ground, tense from fear but happy at the same time. He slowly picked up his lunch money.
At lunch, Jack and Matt weren’t as pleased as Oscar about the encounter with Joe.
“He still pushed you around,” Jack complained.
Matt agreed. “The point is his bullying has got to stop!”
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