Miranda stood. “Christopher Riley!” She put her hands on her hips. “I’m going to tell the teacher on you if you do that again!”
He paused for a moment, seemed to consider the threat, then grabbed another rock from the playground gravel and threw it, finally hitting Everest toward the middle and causing the quickly drying top half to crumble. He braced himself on one of the metal posts of the playscape as he cackled maniacally.
“Nooo! Stop it, stop it, stop it!” Jess yelled, clenching her fists and stomping a foot hard in the sand. Her whole body felt like it was on fire with anger and … something else that she was only vaguely aware of and had no name for.
Her wrath seemed to amuse Christopher, and he kept laughing, only now he was pointing at her while he did, which was worse for some reason. An older girl—perhaps even in second grade—paused in her game of tag to stare from Christopher to Jessica, undoubtedly trying to figure out what was so funny. Two more older kids paused nearby, too, and now that Jess’s anger and Christopher’s torment had an audience, it all felt even worse than ever. She could hear Miranda scolding Christopher, but her brain seemed unable to make out the words through the high-pitched buzzing that had begun in her ears.
Jess’s eyes flickered up to a grackle perched atop the blue metal pole, which Christopher was using to hold himself up as he doubled over in laughter. The bird stared directly at her.
Even the bird is laughing at me!
It was too much, and before Jess could understand a fraction of what was happening, a swell of heat rushed through her and tugged free of her body in one strong burst.
The grackle’s squawk was cut short by a sickening popping sound after the bird rapidly inflated like a balloon hooked up to an automatic tire pump then exploded in a puff of feathers that launched hollow bone shards and viscera in all directions. Nothing within a five-foot radius of where the bird had just perched was spared from bits of the gore, as blood and guts splattered onto Christopher’s hair and cheek, stained the white stripes on his polo shirt, and caused similar damage to the other kids who’d gathered round to watch the spectacle. Jess and Miranda, at least, were far enough away to avoid the mess, but that didn’t make the sight of it any less brutal.
All movement within earshot of the squawk ceased, and Jess froze wide-eyed, knowing with certainty that she was responsible for the bird’s gruesome end.
Then the crying started—a chorus of voices that was finally enough of a variation from the playful screaming to draw the teachers’ attention. Mrs. Thomas and Mrs. Gregory ran over toward the source of the cacophony, and Jess decided it was best if she turned back to her Himalayas and pretended to have no part in the situation. Miranda looked at her strangely for a moment and then followed her lead, and they silently set out to rebuild Everest.
“Oh Jesus!” Mrs. Gregory exclaimed, and Jess knew the teacher had finally noticed all the blood. It would be impossible not to. Who knew one stupid grackle could contain so much mess?
Jess tried not to listen to the commotion behind her, but that was difficult when there was nothing else to listen to.
“What happened?” Mrs. Thomas asked one of the nearby kids, not sounding angry so much as disgusted.
Luckily, most of the crying children seemed too distraught to actually say that a grackle blew up for no reason.
Crouched next to Jess rather than across from her, where she would have been able to see the crime scene laid out, Miranda leaned close and asked quietly, “Are you really the daughter of God?”
Jess nodded. “Yeah. Do you believe me?”
Miranda drew snow tops on one of the newly rebuilt mountains. “Yes. Did you blow up that bird?”
“I didn’t mean to. I’ve never done that before.”
“I believe you,” Miranda replied softly as she packed some of the sand together at the base of a mountain.
“And I smote it. I think that’s the word God uses.”
Miranda giggled. “That’s a silly word.”
Despite herself, Jess giggled too. “Yeah. I know.”
“Why did you smote it?”
“I didn’t mean to.”
“Did you mean to smote Christopher Riley instead?”
Jess had to think about that. She never would have wanted to do to Christopher what she did to the bird. In fact, she didn’t even want to do to the bird what she did to the bird. “No. I just wanted him to stop. I didn’t know I could do that.”
“That’s good. Can I tell you a super secret?”
Jess was bad at secrets. God had told her as much before. “I’m not good at keeping secrets.”
“Can I tell you anyway?”
“If you want to.”
Miranda leaned in and used a flat hand to direct the whispers straight into Jess’s ear. “I think Christopher is cute.”
She assumed Miranda was referring to the version of Christopher that wasn’t covered in giblets and goo and nodded as she waited patiently for the super secret, but Miranda didn’t continue. “Wait, that’s all you had to say?”
Miranda frowned and blinked quickly, staring thoughtfully at Jess like she was missing something. “Yes, that’s it. Don’t tell anyone.”
Ever since Jess had first understood language, the words “don’t tell anyone” had usually been accompanied by more serious things than thinking something was cute.
From her mother it was, “Don’t tell anyone that you talk to God.”
From her grandma it was, “Don’t tell anyone how much of a slut your mother is.”
From God it was, DON’T TELL ANYONE, BUT I WASN’T REALLY PAYING ATTENTION WHEN I CREATED AUSTRALIA.
But to think a boy was cute? Jess thought plenty of things were cute. She thought bunnies were cute. She thought baby giraffes were cute. She might even have thought that grackle was a little cute before it was nothing but guts and feathers. She supposed boys could be cute, too.
“I don’t understand why you don’t want me to tell people that you think Christopher is cute.”
Miranda looked at her like, come on, opening her eyes wide and tilting her head to the side. “Because I don’t want anyone to know I have a crush on a boy!”
Oh. Wait. That sounded familiar. “You have a crush on him?” She crinkled her nose. “So what does that mean?”
“It means I want to kiss him,” Miranda said, and then she cupped her hands over her mouth and giggled.
“Ew. That’s gross.” Jess looked back over at Christopher who was still covered in bird mush but had finally stopped crying. She imagined kissing him and the idea wasn’t terrible …
Then Mrs. Thomas turned Christopher to face them and gave him a gentle shove forward. His shoulders slumped and his head sagged as he approached them in the sandbox.
“I just wanted to say that I’m sorry I threw rocks at your sand mountains.” He looked like he was about to start crying again.
“That’s okay.” Jess wanted to add that she was sorry she smote the bird, but she decided against it.
“You shouldn’t make her mad, you know,” Miranda said, her hands on her hips. “Her father is God. She’s got magical powers. God powers.”
“Miranda!” Jess couldn’t believe what her friend had just said.
Christopher’s bloodshot eyes popped open and he took a small step back. “What?” He studied Miranda then turned to look at Jess. “You’re God’s daughter?”
For a moment, it was clear he was actually considering it, maybe even awed by the notion. But then his face changed, and he burst out laughing again. “You think God is your father!”
Jess’s eyes darted around to the faces that might have heard what Christopher had just shouted. A few of the other children looked puzzled, Mrs. Gregory seemed concerned, but Mrs. Thomas simply appeared amused.
Jess felt her face turn red, and she shut her eyes to try to calm herself down so that she didn’t smite something else. Maybe if she just didn’t say anything, everyone would go away.
But the oppo
site of that happened, and the worst possible person decided to show up on scene: Trent. He wasn’t even in Jess’s class, but she knew this cocky, snub-nosed, freckle-faced boy’s name due to the fact that every teacher and even some of the students shouted at him constantly. His face reminded Jess of her neighbor’s horrid Pekingese that never stopped yapping.
Trent went to stand by Christopher and similarly pointed and laughed at Jess. “God doesn’t have a daughter!” he said. “He only has a son! Anyone who thinks different is going to Hell, so there! Plus, girls stink!”
“Trent!” Mrs. Thomas scolded.
Miranda reached out, grabbed a fistful of sand, and hurled it at the boy. “You don’t know anything, Trent! Go away!”
“Miranda!” Mrs. Gregory scolded.
Trent laughed defiantly then shouted, “Earthquake!” and began stomping out the Himalayas one by one before Mrs. Thomas was able to run over, scoop him up under the armpits and carry him out of the sandbox.
But the damage was already done, and Trent cackled in satisfaction. “What? It was an earthquake. That happens sometimes.”
Mrs. Thomas began giving him an earful, and when Jess looked at Christopher, he was staring at her in terror. Was he worried she’d smite another bird, or worse? So maybe he did believe her after all. And if so, he was right to worry, because she felt heat inside her about to boil over, and it was all aimed squarely now at Trent.
Mrs. Gregory looked at her watch, inhaled deeply and mouthed thank you to the sky before announcing that recess was over and it was time for everyone to head inside.
“Except you two,” came Mrs. Thomas’s voice from behind Jess. She turned slowly, worried she’d somehow managed to upset her favorite teacher, only to realize that Mrs. Thomas wasn’t talking to her or Miranda; she was, of course, talking to Christopher and Trent.
Christopher, at least, had the decency to slink over, shoulders hunched. Jess almost felt sorry for him when he walked like that, still covered in grackle bits. But she didn’t feel bad for Trent—not even a little—who bounced around with a stupid grin and had the nerve to repeat back everything Mrs. Thomas was trying to say to him.
Mrs. Thomas’s patience grew as thin as her lips, which curled into two tight lines just below her flared nostrils, and Jess knew that if her teacher had been able to smite Trent in that moment, she definitely would have.
Turning her back on them, Jessica jogged to catch up with Miranda, who was already headed toward the cool AC.
“I hate Trent,” she vented.
Miranda nodded. “At least Courtney was out sick today.”
Courtney was Trent’s prissy twin sister, and while she was in Mrs. Gregory’s kindergarten class and therefore had recess with Mrs. Thomas’s class every day, Jess had yet to actually talk to the little girl, who clearly thought she was too good to relate to the likes of Jess and Miranda. But Jess would take snobbery over Trent’s abrasive bullying any day.
“Yeah, they’re both the worst.”
Miranda giggled. “That’s a funny joke.”
They crossed over into the cool air of the kindergarten hallway and Jess pushed her sweaty hair from her face. “No. I’m serious. They’re the worst kids in kindergarten, maybe even the whole school.”
“Ohhh … I thought you meant because of their last name.”
Jess shook her head, feeling like she was missing something. Because she was.
“Courtney and Trent,” Miranda filled in. “Their last name is Wurst, so I just thought … I thought you knew that when you drew the picture of their dad.”
Jess shook her head adamantly before Mrs. Gregory lined up both kindergarten classes against opposite walls and asked them to be silent.
So Trent’s dad was a sinner, huh? She’d have to keep that in mind next time the stupid bully tried to pick on her. She didn’t quite understand what being a sinner meant, but she knew saying it to Trent might shut him up, which was all she could ask for.
Mrs. Thomas appeared, hurrying down the hallway from the direction of the principal’s office with a much pleasanter expression than Jess had last seen her wearing, spoke quietly to Mrs. Gregory, who nodded, and then the teachers each led their classes back into the classrooms to start the day’s math lesson.
It wasn’t until after school let out that Jess spotted Christopher and Trent again, and she was satisfied to discover that Trent’s stupid grin was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he and Christopher both sat on the steps of the school, shoulder to shoulder, sulking quietly as they waited for their parents to pick them up.
Trent’s ride arrived first, and when he got up to leave, Mrs. Thomas waved to the woman in the minivan—presumably Mrs. Wurst—and hollered, “Hey Trent.” He turned to look at her, his eyes brimming with a fear that Jess hadn’t expected to see in such a cocky little brat. Mrs. Thomas simply smiled at him and added, “Don’t forget what I told you.” Trent’s eyes went even wider, and he nodded frantically before practically leaping into the backseat of the minivan and slamming the door behind him.
Jess turned to Miranda, who was struggling futilely to braid a chunk of her blonde hair, and said, “I hope I never make Mrs. Thomas angry.”
Miranda gave up and let go of the strands, which she swept back from her face. “No way. Mrs. Thomas loves you. I don’t think there’s anything you could do that would make her be angry with you.”
It had only been a week, but it did seem that way. Questions started to form in Jessica’s mind that she felt too embarrassed to speak aloud. Did Mrs. Thomas believe Jess was God’s daughter? Was that why she seemed to like Jess so much? She desperately wanted to be liked by Mrs. Thomas, so maybe she should just stop asking questions and appreciate how things were.
8 A.G.C.
It was a dream come true. Jess was only in third grade, but she wasn’t sure how life could get better from here. Her fingertips gripped the chain-link fence that stood between her and the two giraffes—a mother and calf grazing serenely from a tall bush, despite the hellscape of an enclosure where they spent their lives—and she pressed her face against the metal so hard that when she pulled away, two red diamond-shaped imprints framed her eyes.
This field trip Mrs. Thomas had orchestrated was even better than Jess had dreamed it might be. It was like her third-grade teacher had planned it especially for her, though obviously that wasn’t the case. But part of her pretended it was.
“Giraffes are awesome!” said Christopher Riley from beside her.
She wanted to tell him no duh, but when she was only twenty feet from her favorite animal, it was impossible for her to reply with anything but an awed, “Yeah …”
“It’s like they have little antennas,” Chris said earnestly, pressing his face against the chain-link almost as enthusiastically as Jess was.
“They’re called ossicones,” she informed him, “and the males use them to fight.”
“Why do giraffes have such long necks?” said a shrill, nasally voice from the other side of her. Jess shuttered at the sound. Luke McAllister. She wanted so badly to be mean to her pale, gangly, sour-breathed classmate so he’d leave her alone and let her enjoy this special moment, but she didn’t for two reasons. The first was that she wasn’t very good at being mean and usually just made herself look stupid, and the second was that Luke’s uncle, Randy, had been assigned as the field trip chaperone for their small group, which consisted of Jess, Christopher, Luke, and Courtney Wurst.
“They have long necks, Luke”—she stressed his name so that maybe he could pick up on how stupid he was—“so they can eat leaves that no other animal can reach.”
“Nope,” said Luke in a teasing voice.
“Yes,” Jess replied, pulling her eyes away from the beautiful beasts to look at the twerp who was ruining everything.
“Nope,” repeated Luke, wearing a dumb grin on his stupid face. “They have long necks so they don’t have to smell their stinky feet!” He cackled at his own joke, and then turned to the enclosure, grabbed the fe
nce and began rattling it and hollering, “Hey giraffes!” over and over again, like they might actually understand English.
The jarring noise caused the calf to start and then scamper behind its mother so that Jess could only see it from the middle of the neck down.
“You’re an idiot,” Christopher said to him.
Jess agreed wholeheartedly, though she refrained from saying it.
When Luke cackled again and continued shaking the fence, Christopher hopped around Jess and shoved Luke hard, catching him off guard and sending him flying. He only just managed to get his feet under him enough to keep from tumbling onto his stupid bony butt.
“Quit being a punk,” Christopher said.
Once Luke’s shock evaporated, he turned tail and ran over to the bench where Randy sat, to tattle to his uncle. But Christopher didn’t seem concerned and returned his gaze to the giraffes. “I hate Luke. He’s so annoying. I can’t believe I had to sit next to him on the bus.”
“That stinks.”
“You have no idea. You got to sit next to Miranda.”
Even still, the drive from Mooretown to the Dallas Zoo had felt like forever. But if she’d been stuck next to Luke, or anyone other than her best friend, really, the drive might have become unbearable.
“Why didn’t you sit next to Trent?” she asked.
“He wanted to sit next to his stupid sister.”
Jess couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to sit next to Courtney Wurst. Trent spent most of his time as a nightmarish blur, but at least you knew what he was thinking because he never stopped shouting it. Courtney, though, while slower moving and quieter than her twin, never lowered her snub nose from the air and preferred to hold her tongue until she was able to accurately identify whatever a person was feeling most insecure about at that moment before unleashing a perfectly executed jab at said insecurity. Jess had never met anyone so good at getting away with being cruel.
“Where is she anyway?” Jess pulled her eyes away from the giraffes to search for their errant group member and spotted her sitting on the bench next to Randy—not Mr. McAllister; he’d corrected them on that right away when he’d introduced himself earlier that morning.
The Beginning (Jessica Christ Book 1) Page 5