The Broken Ones (Jesus Freaks #3)

by Andrea Randall

  Jonah picks up his guitar and slings the strap over his head, fiddling with the strings, still smiling. “No. The band is actually here for the next few weeks to work with the New Life worship band for a while. We’re all going to a conference next weekend on leading worship. They’re going to go over what it means to be a worship band, how to incite the Holy Spirit through our music, all that…”

  “Oh, where is it?” Eden asks.

  “Nashville,” he answers with a broad grin. “I think if they reach a deal with the reality show thing, a crew will film us a bit there,” he says matter-of-factly.

  I look around. “So does everyone just kind of know about this?”

  Jonah’s eyes light up. “It’s huge. My parents are unsure, but they’re unsure about everything nowadays, and I’m nineteen anyhow, so…”

  I nod in approval. “Good for you.”

  He bites his lip a little, and I can’t stop staring at his snug blue T-shirt. He either bought smaller shirts, or he’s grown into himself and needs new ones.

  He doesn’t need new ones, I catch myself thinking dreamily.

  “Are you in?” he asks, setting his guitar down and focusing on the conversation.

  Eden elbows me. “She’ll totally be in. Promise.”

  My mouth drops open. “Assume much?”

  She rolls her eyes. “You’re going to do it even if it’s just to make a point.”

  I shrug. “I don’t know if I can take much more crafty editing of my life on the national level,” I say half-heartedly.

  “Oh!” Eden calls out. “I see Iris. I’ve gotta talk to her about something. I’ll catch up with you back at your dad’s for lunch, okay?” She gives me a quick hug and prances off.

  “Who the heck is Iris?” Jonah questions.

  “A prospective roommate, I guess. Bridgette’s parents requested a dorm switch before I fled, and I think Eden is okay with that. Bridgette’s moving to a quiet hall anyway, which isn’t really Eden’s style.”

  Jonah tilts his head to the side. “Why doesn’t she room with you? You’re coming back, right?”

  I grin. “Yeah,” I admit with finality. “But I’m not too sure what my living situation will be. Especially if I agree to this TV foolishness. I might ask Roland if I can stay with him or something. I don’t know…”

  “Well, wherever you live, I’m glad you’re staying. You were missed when you took off.” He picks up his guitar again, keeping his eyes on me the whole time.

  He’s kinda perfect, now that I get a real good look at him. Here in the middle of my dad’s church. I get what Eden was so over-the-moon about with this kid. He’s picture-book perfect. Romance book even, but I don’t know if she’s ever read any of those.

  “I’m sorry I took off so fast,” I stammer. “I was just really—”

  “Scared?”

  I nod. “Exactly. And my mom was so angry.”

  “So was your dad—Roland,” he corrects himself.

  I wave my hand. “You can just call him my dad. It’s all good. I’m not the first gal in America to have two dads.”

  He laughs. “I guess. But he was really mad at whoever sent the pictures. Do you guys know who it was?”

  I shake my head. “And I haven’t theorized with him, either. I’ve got some ideas, but I don’t even want to say them out loud until I have a shred of evidence above my paranoia.”

  “Wise,” he says. Then, out of the blue, he blurts out, “Would you consider singing with us?”

  “Huh?” I look around for a second to make sure he’s talking to me.

  “We only had one girl in the band, and she graduated in May. We considered making it an all-guy band—”

  “Progressive,” I tease.

  He twists his lips but doesn’t look wounded. Perhaps he’ll get used to my sarcasm yet. “But the sound is off. I’ve heard you sing in church before. You can not only match pitch, but you’ve got the sound we need.”

  “I mean… I sang in chorus in high school but… wait you were spying on my voice? Scouting me out without me knowing?” My voice is high and pitchy. Sure, Jonah and I sit next to, or near each other but I didn’t know he was listening to me.

  Jonah reaches out and puts his hand on my wrist, looking me straight in the eyes only the way guys from CU can. Perfect, respectful eye contact at all times. “You’re excellent. Come rehearse with us. You can see if you like us, if we like you… all that.”

  “Now?” I blurt out ungracefully.

  He laughs. “You strike me as kind of a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants sort of girl.”

  I twist my lips in a wicked grin. “I don’t think you’re supposed to have an opinion about my pants.”

  “Come on,” he says again, blushing fiercely. “Just do it.”

  This feels like flirting. I think. Oh, Lord, I don’t know…

  I allow my lips to part slightly. “Jonah Cross, is this some bizarre form of peer pressure I’m detecting?”

  “It’s for Jesus,” he whispers, his mouth morphing into a Disney-esque Prince Charming smile.

  “Nice,” I reply dryly. “Really nice. Bring Him into this. When do you guys usually practice during the semester?” I ask, because apparently I’ve lost my mind and am actively considering his absurd proposal.

  “Saturday nights.” I make a face and he looks nervous. “What?” he asks.

  I shake my head. “Just… not the college weekends I had planned in my mind… but you know what? I think I’m okay with that.”

  I received about a dozen “hungover” text messages from Mollie last year. At first I was annoyed that I couldn’t share the experience with her since I don’t know what it’s like to be hung over, but especially after researching statistics about what college life can be like with rape and overdoses and all, I’m thinking I’m okay with not being put in that position. Although, the thought of the group against Dean Baker I met with last semester comes to mind. Caitlyn’s sister being raped while she was a student at CU is never far from my memory, and I need to get more information on the circumstances there…

  “Sure,” I blurt out to get out of my head. “Why not. I’m involved in zero groups. Wait… wait.” The panic sets in.

  “What?” Jonah lets go of my wrist but grins and bites his lip. I swear to you, he bites his lip.

  “This is… like… a big deal. You guys are the worship band. I…”

  “You’ve already said yes,” Jonah teases. “Plus, I’ll be here with you the whole time. There’s nothing to worry about. Now, come in the back with me so I can introduce you to everyone and we can run through some simple vocal warm-ups before rehearsing.”

  Looking over my shoulder, I see that Eden’s already left. I text her as I wind through the long hallways of New Life’s behind the scenes.

  Me: I’m joining Water on Fire. Apparently.

  Eden: Yes! I told Jonah you would!

  Me: You knew and didn’t prepare me? I hate you.

  Eden: Relax! You ARE good! I think you’ll love it. You’ll be famous… er. Famous-er.

  Me: You relax with all the exclamation points. I don’t want to be famous-er. Nice word, by the way.

  Eden: You’ll be famous one way or another. Control as much of it as possible. Wasn’t it you who said that?

  Me: I don’t believe I asked you to feed my words back to me.

  Eden: ;) Go. Rock it. Text me when you’re done and I’ll meet you for lunch.

  Me: But I’m hungry NOW. Who rehearses for more things AFTER church?

  Eden: It’s for Jesus ;)

  Me: I hate you and Jonah both.

  Before walking into the small room Jonah’s in front of, I spot Roland up ahead talking with the people I’d identified as network executives during church. They’re looking as relaxed as they can as Roland appears to be giving them a tour.

  “Give me a second,” I say to Jonah before breaking toward Roland. He nods and leans against the wall, politely waiting for me.

  “Hey,” I say to
Roland once I sense a lull in the conversation. “I’m going to hang out here for a while and practice with the band. Jonah asked me to. They need girls, or something…” I’m trying to sound as breezy as possible, but I’m insanely curious as to who these people are.

  Roland smiles broadly. “Excellent! I look forward to hearing you guys,” he says as if I’m a fully initiated member of the band. “Kennedy, I’d like you to meet a few people.” He gestures to the group, but one woman with shoulder-length blond hair and a red blouse that’s a little too tight across her chest steps forward. “This is Stephanie Williams. She’s an executive producer with NBC who will be working on the docu-series.”

  “Jesus Freaks?” I ask with a grin, extending my hand.

  “That’s it,” she says with a professional smile and a firm handshake. “We’re hoping you’ll join us for a brainstorming meeting tomorrow on campus.”

  I look to Roland, who has a bizarre mix of relaxation and stress on his face. He smiles, but there aren’t any creases by his eyes like with almost all the smiles I’ve seen from him before. I briefly replay the conversation I heard between him and Dean Baker. They seemed to be holding things against each other. I also think back to the shady behavior other students have expressed to me about the dean. I call them “The Resistance,” and I’m suddenly wishing I could meet with them right now to figure out how we could use this series to our advantage.

  It’s not an undercover sting operation.

  You have to figure out what, if anything, is hiding in Dean Baker’s closet, and who he has on his side.

  There’s something in his closet all right. Probably a few somethings. And they’re big.

  I drop my hand and give Stephanie Williams a confident smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow after my volunteer shift is over.”

  I swear I hear Roland exhale in relief, but that could just be in my own head.

  “See you at home later,” I blurt out to Roland before turning back down the hall toward Jonah.

  Did I just say home?

  What in the name of…

  “You okay?” Jonah asks when I reach him. “You look like you’re going to be sick, or something.”

  I swallow hard and eye him seriously. “Nothing’s going to be easy for me here, is it?”

  Jonah cocks a sideways grin and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Nope. I don’t think so. You ready?”

  I shrug. “I hope so…”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Serve

  Kennedy

  “You’ve had a busy day,” Roland says as he cleans up our dinner dishes.

  I nod. “It was good, though.”

  “It surprises me that you want to sing with the worship band,” he says with raised eyebrows.

  “Yeah? Why?” I ask, knowing most of the answer, but wanting to converse with him anyway.

  He shrugs. “It’s just a very public sort of activity.”

  “You and Mom are all about the word public these days,” I say, clipping the end of my sentence as I catch my misstep.

  “What’s your mom saying about it?” he asks, furrowing his brow.

  In a split second I have to either betray my mother’s confidence or the school’s. Easy choice. “I’ve told her about the reality show. Don’t be mad.”

  He grins. “I’m surprised it took you this long. I suppose that means I can call her and she and I can walk through the ten thousand questions I’m sure she has?”

  “Yeah,” I chuckle. “That’s all you. I’ve gotta go call Mollie anyway.”

  “That’s your best friend from high school, right?”

  I nod. The fact that Roland has to double check only highlights the growing crevasse between me and Mollie. I don’t know how to stop it, or if it can be. I wander to my bedroom and shut the door behind me, my thumb hovering over Mollie’s name.

  “I was wondering when I’d friggen hear from you,” is how she answers the phone once I finally press “call.”

  I laugh, relieved at her sardonic tone. “How much time do you have?” I ask.

  “As much as you need.”

  ***

  “That’s awesome that you guys are talking again,” Mollie says of me and Matt. “But why do you still sound so sad about it?”

  I stretch out on my bed and stare at the ceiling. “Because I don’t know if he’s still doing all that stuff. He wasn’t at church, which is weird to me. None of us are required to go any particular place, but he wasn’t at New Life, and he went there all last year, at least until… you know.”

  Admittedly, I’m still riding the high of my practice with Water on Fire this afternoon. It was a lot more fun than I thought it would be, and I never once felt pressured to raise my hands in praise during the set like the other lead singers did. Maybe it’ll be different when I’m in front of actual people, but… I doubt it.

  Concern for Matt always lingers in my mind. We’ve developed a relationship like so many of my mom’s family members have: Loving the piss out of each other while moving like chess pieces around each other to avoid the really big issues. Yes, Aunt Claire is morbidly obese, but it wouldn’t be kind to talk with her about it. Sure, Uncle Paul might drink a little too much, but who are we to judge? Yes, Matt, I’m still your friend, so that means I won’t ask if you’re still slicing up your soul by staring at naked women day in and day out.

  I trust him when he says he’s working on it, and he looks so much better than he did a couple of months ago, not to mention he has a resounding recommitment to the football team. But, my curiosity is nagging me to dig into his brain and his emotions. I really should just leave it up to his therapist.

  “Like the strip clubs?” Mollie pulls me back into our conversation.

  “That, and the porn he mentioned… all of it.”

  “So what’s the big deal about him missing church?”

  I sigh. “I don’t know if he missed it, and it’s a big deal because it’s rules and it’s something most of the kids here do, just like getting up and showering in the morning. I just can’t ask him about it because then he’ll think I’m, like, checking up on him and not in just a friend way either.”

  Mollie sounds frustrated. “What’s the big deal about porn, again?”

  Rolling onto my side, I situate myself into a lax fetal position. I shrug as if she’ll see. “I don’t know…”

  I do know, but it’s hard to translate to an outsider.

  “Look,” Mollie interrupts brightly, “if the poor boy can’t have sex until he’s married, there’s nothing wrong with a little window shopping first, is there? To see what he likes, and stuff?”

  “Mollie!” I sit up, settling on my elbows.

  “What?” she huffs, sounding more impatient than ever.

  “You don’t get it,” I mumble after preparing a huge monologue in my head about everything I’ve learned in the last year, and the last few months, that highlight exactly why it’s not okay.

  “So, explain it, then.”

  I wince, feeling the strain of being stretched away from my best friend by more than distance. We haven’t been talking as much, in part due to our schedules, but there’s something more stuffing itself between us. What we talk about. I’m not talking about parties and hookups and abs. That’s not all that Mollie talks about, either, but they are part of her conversation. I’m also certainly not talking about who I rubbed up against at a party and who I woke up next to. Mollie’s only done that two or three times since she started at Yale, but…

  Only?

  “Sorry,” she says before I can say anything. “It’s just kind of hard to communicate lately, since you go to school on a different planet.”

  I chuckle. “Why am I the one on the different planet?”

  “You know what I mean…”

  “I do, but it still hurts my feelings a little. These kids aren’t all that different from us and our friends, anyway. They’re just not drinking or having sex… and if they are they’re not telling anyone. But they want to. And the
y want to get married, and have jobs, and have kids and all that. Mollie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “What are the rape stats like on your campus?” I’ve already Googled this.

  She pauses. “I don’t know, it’s probably like most other college campuses, I guess.”

  “It’s higher than average, actually,” I challenge.

  “So why’d you ask?”

  “Because I want you to be safe.”

  She clicks her tongue. “And I want guys to keep it in their pants. I am safe. Hardly ever alone on campus, and all that.”

  How much easier would it be if that were a rule for her?

  I yawn. “You know rape isn’t about sex, it’s about power.” My mom would be proud of me recalling that bit of women’s studies information.

  “Yeah? What about your campus?”

  “There might be one rape reported every couple years,” I admit, though I’m not sure.

  “Reported.” She catches the hole in my honest answer. “And, I bet they’d challenge your sex and power theory.”

  “It’s not a theory, Moll. You know that.”

  “Yeah? Ask some of your friends, and see what they say. You’re not the only one who has the Internet, Kennedy. I know all about your friends trying to keep men’s intentions in check. Helping to keep them pure because they can’t control themselves, especially not if women are flaunting themselves everywhere.”

  I run my hand over my face. “It’s so much more complicated than that, Mollie.”

  “You’re right,” she says in a tone that tells me this conversation is on its last leg. “So, before you call me and accuse my school of being full of porn-riddled rapists, maybe you should check your side of the street? Didn’t you say that one girl’s sister was raped and the school did nothing?”

  Caitlyn’s sister. And no one did anything about it. More egregious than the rape itself must be the feeling that you’re being told you’re lying. Or wrong. Or to shut up.

  “It wasn’t the school who did nothing, Mollie. Christians aren’t pro-rape, you know.”

  She huffs, and so do I.

  “Things are weird,” she finally says.

  “They are. I feel like I need a sabbatical, or something.”