Over a late breakfast in the dining hall on our first Friday as CU students, everyone is discussing their first week of classes.
“My Old Testament class is going to be awesome,” Silas speaks emphatically. “It’s so awesome to see all the seeds of Jesus sprinkled everywhere in those books.”
I eye him curiously. I’m in his class, but his assertions make me feel as though I’ve missed something. I know I haven’t, and he’s just thoroughly more well-versed on the Good Book than I am. His enthusiasm encourages me that I might find some stuffed under my seat at some point.
“It’s gonna be hard though, too,” Jonah adds. “There’s a lot to remember.” He makes brief eye contact with me before returning to his triple-stacked pancakes and impossible amount of syrup.
We haven’t spoken since last Sunday when I basically admitted I wasn’t sure of the power of the Word of God. I don’t blame him for his cautiousness of me. The Doubter. I’ll cut myself some slack. I don’t doubt the existence of God, but I question his plan. None of my friends seem to, though. They all just keep asking to be a part of it.
“Lord, let me be a willing part of your plan,” Joy is often heard saying at our nightly floor prayer sessions.
Every night.
Every night we get together as a floor to pray. Pray and praise about the day that has passed and the one forthcoming. It exhausts me, honestly, to be spiritually dialed in all the time, which is interesting because it’s a thought that had excited me preceding my stepping on campus. I mean, who doesn’t want to be in constant contact with God?
Me. I don’t. I’m realizing that sometimes I need a little bit of space. Conflictingly, I’m finding that’s not really an option. There’s no space from God or CU.
In fact, I’ve only made it on Facebook once this week. Once. I logged on in the library on campus, but kept my message of I’m alive, no worries, just settling into my new environment short and sweet. I’m sure you can imagine the responses that status garnered.
Have they burned you at the stake?
Pray for me, from a guy friend whose profile picture showcased him flanked by two girls with Greek letters across their chests.
That I get laid soon! He completed his thought in another reply.
Am I allowed to visit, or will the pearly gates be closed?
I haven’t responded to a single one, nor have I accepted the budding Friend Requests from my CU crew. It’s hard enough to merge these two worlds in my head, let alone on social media.
It turns out that just as much as I don’t want my CU friends to judge me by what they see on my—or my high school friends—Facebook pages, I don’t want my “real life friends” to judge me or my CU friends. At all.
The thought alone of Greek Letters Guy—Sam—scoping the pages of Eden and Bridgette and the comments that would follow is enough to make me shiver. He’s a total pig…which had seemed kind of funny until last week. There’s a weak—but growing—desire brewing inside me to protect my CU friends from…something. I know it sounds self-righteous, but it’s real.
“We should go downtown today,” I suggest as I move the remnants of my omelet around my plate. “We haven’t had much time to explore our surroundings.”
There’s a stiff silence all of a sudden. Of course there would be. Even though Asheville is in the South, it’s still a city—and a fairly liberal one, at that. It clicks just then that that’s at least partly the reason for all the group and chaperone guidelines surrounding going off-campus. One wouldn’t want to be bit by a gay vampire, or something.
“Yes!” Bridgette answers excitedly, which was unexpected. “I want to get a nose ring!”
My eyes widen and a huge smile pulls at my mouth.
“Bridge!” Silas gasps. “Mom and Dad will—”
“Oh, calm down.” She waves her hand. “I’m eighteen.”
My eyes connect with Jonah, whose eyebrows are expertly lifted. We grin and return to listening in on the siblings’ discussion.
“Right,” Silas replies. “But we still live in Dad’s house. And his rules.”
Bridgette sighs an all-encompassing, deflating sigh. Her face falls. “You’re right.”
“You could always take it out before you go home, or before they come here,” I suggest helpfully.
Jonah bites his lip and turns his head away from the group, his shoulders shaking under a laugh.
Bridgette brightens again. “You’re right!”
“That would be lying.” Silas sounds constipated.
For the first time since interacting with these people, I feel like I have something to offer. “Oh, come on, Silas. How is it lying? Did she tell your parents she wouldn’t pierce her nose?”
“No.”
“Okay, then how will her taking it out for visits—sparing them anxiety, or whatever it is—be lying?”
His jaw pulses against his skin. I’ve pushed far enough.
“I mean,” I add to pull the tension back to me, since poor Bridgette looks conflicted, “I haven’t told you guys I got my lip pierced last year. But have I lied to any of you about it?”
Eden smacks the table to my left. “You have your lip pierced?” she asks in the loudest whisper possible.
“Well, it’s empty at this exact moment, given the rules and all, but…” I press my tongue against the inside of my lip to highlight the hole. It’s tiny, but when you look for it, it’s easy to spot.
Eden leans in so close it could look like we’re about to kiss. I briefly consider doing it just to cause a small riot. When her eyes find the hole, she leans back and shakes her head, a mix of awe and uncertainty across her face.
“I can’t believe you have your lip pierced.”
I shrug. My eyes search the table, and they’re all looking at me with a mix of emotions. Bridgette gleams like I’m some shiny toy. Joy curls her lip the moment my eyes connect with hers. Figures. While Silas’ look is unreadable, when my eyes land on Jonah, he looks away quickly, moving his fork around a completely empty plate. Red. His cheeks are red.
“Anyway,” I clap my hands, “there are four girls and two guys,” I note. “Do you guys have any other friends from your floor or whatever that want to come? Either one or three more?” I add to highlight my understanding of the rule that there needs to be an odd number of people in a mixed-sex group.
As if that’s ever stopped people, I quip in my head.
Jonah stands and addresses Silas. “Let’s ask Brent, he seems like he should get out.”
Silas throws his head back, breaking his stiffness with full-chested laughter. “You’re right on that, brother.”
The group stands and dispenses of their dishes and trash. A mix of pure excitement and nervous excitement ripples through the crowd.
“Okay,” I say when we’re outside. “Meet at the bus stop in a half hour?”
Everyone agrees and goes off in different directions. Silas and Jonah head to their dorm to collect this Brent character and Bridgette and Eden are off to the room to get their money. I always keep mine on me, in case I feel the need to flee at the drop of a hat, so I walk excitedly to the bus stop.
As I lean against the chipped and slightly rusted post holding up the bus stop sign, I wonder how much of the outside world has changed since my week in the fold.
CHAPTER TEN
This Is the Stuff
“This isn’t so bad,” Silas says in near-relief as we wander the streets of downtown Asheville.
“Told you.” I grin and gently elbow his side.
Taking a deep breath of freedom, I lean my head back and observe the insanely blue sky. I’m relieved to see the trees blushing with the signs of autumn. It was one of the first things I’d researched when I decided to come to school here—did they have a normal fall? Being a New England girl, it’s an extremely important detail, and one Asheville seemed more than happy to deliver. Bright oranges and yellows highlight our walk past art vendors and clothing stores.
It just feels so go
od to be out in public. I feel about as giddy as my friends seemed on the bus ride down here. Well, there were a mix of nerves, for sure. Silas spent the ten-minute bus ride looking out the window and wringing his hands for a few seconds at a clip. Joy rode quietly, her permanently sour expression plastered on her face. I would have avoided asking her to come, but that would have been rude. And, after Silas and Jonah invited Brent, I literally couldn’t ask Joy to stay behind.
Oh, poor, sweet Brent.
Brent is the oldest of six siblings, and the first in even his extended family to go to college. From a tiny town I can’t remember the name of in Texas, this is the furthest Brent has traveled from home. Especially without his parents. He’s a ball of sweat, the poor kid, walking with his head down and barely making eye contact with any of us.
“Still wanna get your nose pierced, Bridge?” I slow down as we come across Lucky You Tattoo and Piercing.
Peeking inside the window, I find your standard cast of characters for such a place. A large, almost comically beefy man smeared in tattoos. Bald head, naturally. There’s also an equally tattooed female with shockingly short shorts and a tube top which reveals a soft showing of tattooed skin across her midsection.
The group goes silent behind me, and I turn around to find them looking anywhere but the shop. Bridgette’s fingers are knotted around each other and she’s biting her lip. Linking my arm with hers, I hurry the group away from this destination.
“Another time, maybe,” I whisper as I set my head on her shoulder.
She squeezes my hand. “Thanks,” she whispers back.
We walk for a few more minutes, rounding the corner to what I take to be the food district. While I’m not hungry, I smell fresh roasting coffee and breathe it in deeply, suddenly needing it. There’s coffee on campus, but I’m almost positive they weaken it.
“Rocks,” Bridgette calls over her shoulder as we weave through the crowd shouting orders for gyros at the man in a food truck.
“Thanks,” Silas mumbles.
“Rocks?” I ask Bridgette.
She shrugs and looks a little sheepish. Chalking it up to an inside family joke, I don’t question her any further.
“So, Joy,” I hear Eden ask behind me, “what do you like to do for fun?”
“Mission trips,” she answers flatly.
Eden doesn’t respond, but I can hear her deep breath behind me. Bless her heart, she tries so hard to find the good in everyone.
Crap! I slap my hand over my mouth even though I haven’t said anything out loud. I thought the phrase, “Bless her heart.” I’ve heard the words uttered no less than twenty times in the six days I’ve been on campus, and that’s a conservative estimate. But I’ve never said it. Or thought it.
I’m turning into one of them, I think comically. And semi-seriously.
“Coffee!” I shout, stopping our visual tour.
We follow the smell of roasting beans as we make our way down the street, stopping in front of a large storefront that hosts several outdoor tables and chairs, and floor-to-ceiling windows that open up to the inside of Word. “Coffee and Books” is in smaller type on the sign.
I turn to the group. “Coffee. Books. How bad can it be?”
“Sounds good to me,” Jonah pipes up for the first time since we dismounted the bus.
“That’s two,” I reply playfully. “Any more? Come on!”
Laughter sprinkles through the group.
I smile. “I take that as a unanimous decision. Let’s go.”
Walking into Word, I stop again and take a deep breath. Looking around, I’m bursting with excitement. It’s a locally owned coffee shop—as are all of the shops in this section of Downtown—filled with wall-to-wall shelves of used books. The only style element here is that of a garage sale, it seems. Mismatched tables and chairs fill the large space, segmented only by bookshelves. It’s amazing.
“It looks like it’s getting busy in here,” I note to the group. “I don’t mind ordering for you guys if some of you want to snag a table for us. Maybe one outside since it’s so nice out?”
“Sure,” Eden replies, handing me a five dollar bill. “Just a small chai for me.”
“Bottle of water,” Joy mumbles, giving me two dollars. She handed me her money, which makes me think she might just be changing her mind about me.
Bridgette hands me a ten. “Decaf for me, full-strength for Si.”
“You got it.” I turn and find that Jonah is retrieving money from Brent.
I take my place an ever-growing line, and Jonah sidles up next to me.
“Rule breaker,” I mumble, scanning the board and appreciating all the choices before me.
Jonah laughs. “What?”
“I mean, if you wanted a date with me, you could have asked,” I tease. “But we’d still need a chaperone.”
He shrugs. “They’re all fifteen feet behind us.”
“Is that a university-sanctioned distance?”
Jonah’s eyes crease as he delivers a full-wattage smile. I do appreciate his shaggy hair—oh so very much. “What’s gotten into you?” he asks.
“Huh?” I step forward; he follows.
“Ever since breakfast you’ve been all, I don’t know…bubbly. I’ve heard you talk more in the last hour than I have all week.”
I roll my eyes. “Says the man of many words. This is the most I’ve heard you talk.”
With his hands in his pockets, Jonah swings his elbow out, nudging mine. “I mean it,” he insists.
“I don’t know. I guess I just feel… free. We’re out, like, amongst my people.” I hold out my hands my eyes scanning across the crowd.
“We’re not all like her, you know…” Jonah half-mumbles.
“What? Like who?”
“Joy.”
My cheeks feel flushed as my heart flutters slightly. I hope I haven’t given away my suspicion of her. “I don’t know what you’re ta—”
“Oh, come on!” Jonah’s eyes widen and he flashes another smile. “She’s pretty intense.”
I look up at him from the corner of my eye. “You’re all pretty intense.”
Jonah chuckles. “So are you.”
Turning to face him, he meets me with a pointed stare, smile still dialed up.
“It’s the lip ring, isn’t it?” I joke.
He laughs. I like how much he laughs. And I like that he thinks I’m funny. “Some of it.”
It’s our turn at the counter. Jonah orders a hot apple cider and a half-caff coffee. I don’t know which is for him and which is for Brent. Both strike me as the cider type, really. I order the drinks I’m in charge of and we move down to the far end of the counter to wait.
“Sorry about the other day at lunch.” I lean against the counter and tuck some hair behind my ear.
Jonah shrugs and shakes his head, truly a universal sign for “what?”
“Our discussion of the Word,” I prompt.
“Oh, right.” He shifts on his feet and looks down. I look, too, and find Converse sneakers. I grin but don’t say anything. “That’s not really…something to apologize for?”
“Was that a question?”
He lifts his chin and, while the smile’s gone, his face remains bright. “I don’t know?”
“Well, that clears that up.” I roll my eyes and we both laugh.
I realize he’s the only person I’ve really laughed with since I arrived on campus. A quick look over my shoulder shows our friends at a table outside, Eden seeming to do her best not to stare openly at Jonah and me at the counter. She’s talking with Brent and Joy, but every three seconds exactly she shoots a quick look our way. Jonah, having the manners he does, won’t notice this because he’s focused only on our conversation.
Jonah nudges my elbow when the barista begins setting our drinks on the counter. The touch feels warm and slightly scandalous. Maybe because I know the rules—which this touch doesn’t break—or maybe because I actually like Jonah.
Bummer for me, I res
ign to myself with a soft sigh. You aren’t his type, Kennedy. He’s basically Jesus and you aren’t even saved.
“Anyway,” Jonah continues as we navigate through the crowd to the patio outside, “I wouldn’t spend too much time thinking how different you are from the rest of us, if I were you. I’m willing to bet we’re more alike than different.”
“Yeah? What’s that supposed to mean?”
Before he has a chance to answer, Eden leaps to her feet to be oh-so-helpful in distributing the drinks. Jonah takes the half-caff. There’s hope for him yet.
I grab my full-strength latte and settle myself in the black cast iron chair, sandwiched between Eden and Bridgette. Frankly, they’re perfect social buffers. They like me, which is more than I can say for Joy. After taking a gratuitous sip, I close my eyes and lean my head back, letting the sun soak my face. “It’s such a nice day.”
“Thanks for suggesting we head down here, Kennedy,” Eden says. “I’ve heard that freshmen at CU sometimes get caught up in…whatever…and stay on campus more than they go off.”
I open one eye toward Eden. “What’s whatever?”
“Fear, probably,” Brent answers. “That they’ll get sucked into all the sin.”
Sin. Sigh. I’ve never, ever heard the word used so much. Maybe because I’ve been living in it, some of my tablemates might say.
I lower my chin, eyeing Brent. “All the sin?”
“Rocks,” Silas mumbles to Bridgette, who then leans down and seems to fumble with her sandal.
“What is that?” I say to both of them, not wanting to stress out poor Brent with all the sin.
Bridget looks up and shakes her head. “Nothing.”
I arch my eyebrow at her, looking to the rest of their table who shrug or offer nothing.
“Rocks,” I articulate. “You’ve each said it to the other since we’ve been down here. Is that, like, sibling code for something? Twin code?”
Jesus Freaks: Sins of the Father Page 9