Whatever was in the potent drug, it was deadly poisonous.
One of the football coaches had found their bodies this morning. Lying on the bleachers in the same spot where they’d taken the drug. Their bodies had only been removed from campus minutes earlier.
In that moment Alicia knew what she had to do. She was finished with fear. Now there was only one way for the staff at Jackson High to get through this awful situation.
She looked around the principal’s office at the circle of teachers and she felt her heart beat fast against her chest. I am with you always . . . I am with you . . . Alicia cleared her throat. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to pray.”
And like that Alicia took a step into her future. A future of dependence on God and reliance on His strength. A belief that with Him she really could do anything. She kept that mind-set all day as she prayed with grieving teachers and crying students. And even as the parents of the two students came to the school and broke down in her arms.
God was with her everywhere she was needed, every hour of the day.
By the time she climbed into her car that evening she knew two things. First, she had never really lived until today. And second, if two were better than one, then there was someone she needed to see. Not just in her dreams. But in front of her, for the first time in a year.
Wendell Quinn.
7
The Raise the Bar program met Tuesday and Thursday that week, and even still Wendell couldn’t believe how the group had grown. After that first meeting, Wendell had moved the meeting to the band room. Two weeks after that they had so many students, they had to come together in the auditorium.
At the six-week mark nearly one hundred students showed up to hear about Jesus and His teachings, His promises, His gift of eternal life. Every week Wendell expected the phone call. Police were on their way to the school to arrest him. He would be fired for saying unthinkable things.
But the call never came.
Even his staff stayed quiet. The early handful of protests from his teachers gave way to busy schedules and classroom demands. Or maybe apathy. Perhaps they didn’t have the energy to put up a fight. Or maybe they saw the good the club was doing. Whatever it was, no one had formally complained.
And every week kids continued to show up. Wendell couldn’t explain the growth. Yes, he had believed the program would work, and yes, he felt called by God to step out in faith and lead it.
But almost a hundred kids?
The list of miraculous moments from the past year was too long to remember.
The young people in the club prayed for each other. They looked out for each other. One girl asked God that her dog would be found and by the time she got home from school, the pup was waiting for her. Another prayed for his mother’s cancer diagnosis. That it would be gone at her next appointment. At her next meeting with her doctor, the woman was given a clean bill of health. No more cancer.
Now it was the second week in October, and already new students were joining. Wendell walked into his office and found the report on his desk. The one he believed he would need one day. Yes, in the past year he could see the changes. They were obvious. There had been only one incident of gang violence. Arrests were down and so were teen pregnancies. Test scores were improving.
But Wendell couldn’t be completely sure that the Raise the Bar club was actually the reason for the changes.
So he had contacted a researcher from the School of Humanities and Social Sciences at Indiana University East. The school put him in touch with a master’s student who needed a significant social project in order to complete her degree. AnnaMae Williams was a brilliant girl with a bright future.
She was also an agnostic.
Wendell didn’t care. As soon as he explained the project, he saw the girl’s interest ignite. She was to take every statistic that made up Hamilton High and compare it, one year to the next. AnnaMae didn’t know about the Raise the Bar program. As far as Wendell was concerned, the girl didn’t need to know. At least not yet.
What she did need to know, she would learn through researching teachers’ grade books and police records. She could talk to the teen pregnancy center on campus and interview the nurse in the mental health office.
AnnaMae had been given the assignment the first week of school. And now, nearly two months later, she had finished the report and left it on Wendell’s desk. Wendell had been looking forward to this moment since the beginning of the semester.
He approached his desk and sat down. A yellow sticky note on the top in AnnaMae’s handwriting read: The results are amazing. Whatever you’re doing, keep it up! Way to go, Principal Quinn!
Wendell’s heart thudded against his chest. The report was titled “Hamilton High—A Comparison of Years.” Wendell stared at the words. A comparison, indeed. Lord, show me the difference You’ve made. Not just in lives, but in numbers.
In case anyone ever wanted to know.
He opened the front cover and pored over the table of contents. AnnaMae had done a thorough job. Her categories went beyond what Wendell had requested. She covered criminal activity, and broke the statistics into felonies and misdemeanors.
Next was the mental health part of the report. She researched everything from suicides to suicide attempts, drug abuse, reports of depression and even student absences. From there she included student scores on standardized tests and assignments, as well as papers, and tests in each subject.
The report couldn’t have been more thorough.
Wendell could barely breathe as he made his way from one page to the next. Arrests for violent crimes were down by seventy-five percent and misdemeanors were cut in half. Wendell let his eyes settle on the numbers. Tears gathered. God, You are so faithful. This is beyond what I had hoped.
And suddenly a slight gust of wind came through the open window behind him. My son, I am able to do more than you can ask or imagine. Trust Me.
The words blew across the surface of his soul, and Wendell held his breath. He was on holy ground here. But of course, God could do more than they could ever ask or imagine. His word promised that in Ephesians 3:20. And the report was absolute proof.
Wendell turned the page. Category after category, the results were beyond dramatic. Not a single suicide. Attendance was up and reports of depression were down.
Looking at the results, it was clear only God could have done this for Hamilton High School. And to think the Raise the Bar program had been kept a secret from the media all this time.
“All You, Lord. . . . Only You.” He whispered the words, his eyes still on the report.
But while things had turned around at Hamilton High, Wendell’s personal life was still only about his children. Some days he missed Alicia with every heartbeat.
The two of them had liked having dinner at quiet cafés and catching a movie every now and then. He missed the happy, lighthearted approach she had with his boys, and the kind way she related to his girls. Times when anxiety seemed the furthest thing from her. No question, Wendell’s heart was still hooked.
But there was no point thinking about her. Alicia had moved on. He hadn’t heard from her since last fall. Whatever her life these days, she clearly wasn’t looking back.
And she apparently had no idea of how her absence had hurt him. How it had left a gaping hole in his life.
Wendell made it through AnnaMae’s entire report, and then he saw the one beneath it. The one put together by senior Cami Nelson. Wendell smiled as he picked it up. Cami had been attending the Raise the Bar meetings since the first week. In that time she had come to believe in the Lord and love Him.
She was a changed person, and she was just one of so many. A few weeks ago it had occurred to Wendell that statistics were only part of the story.
The results—no matter how stunning—would never take the place of personal testimonies. Cami Nelson was a journalism student. She loved writing the way some people loved singing. The way his own son Jordy loved running the football i
nto the end zone. Writing was something Cami Nelson was born to do.
So Wendell gave her an assignment.
Starting with herself, she was to capture the stories of students who regularly attended the Raise the Bar club. Ask them what life was like before, and how it was different now. Then write a one-page narrative on each of them. Place them together in a single folder and get them on his desk by this Monday morning.
Wendell would see that she got extra credit for her work.
And sure enough, there beneath AnnaMae’s report was Cami Nelson’s. The presentation wasn’t as professional, but Wendell was certain the information it contained would be powerful. Numbers and percentages were proof that Hamilton High was improving. But the students’ stories were proof that lives were actually being changed. Not only changed, but saved. Wendell opened the cover of Cami’s report and saw that the first story was her own. Hers and every account that followed appeared to be written in first person.
As if Cami had merely let the students tell their stories, and she had done her best to capture them. The one after Cami’s was titled: “Dwayne Brown, Hamilton High Junior.”
Wendell was gripped from the opening sentence.
It wasn’t whether I was going to kill myself before I started attending the Raise the Bar program. It was when and how. The story went on to tell about Dwayne’s life of drug abuse and meaninglessness. Football had become my whole life. Other than that, I had no hope, no future, no direction. No one who cared whether I lived or died. Then I learned about God through the Raise the Bar program and everything changed.
More tears blurred Wendell’s eyes. He brushed at them with the palms of his hands and kept reading. Over the next hour he read through every story. The Raise the Bar kids had a whole new perspective on life.
They lived the Gospel.
Students in the club had developed initiatives to do peer counseling and tutoring, and they were responsible for so many positive changes. They volunteered as study partners with the elementary kids down the block, and they picked up trash and painted over graffiti at Hamilton. The ripple effect was obvious. They had made Hamilton High a better community.
Both reports proved it.
By then he’d gone through several tissues. If he cared for his students before, Wendell loved them even more now.
“I guess this proves You right, Father. You told me to start this program, and I obeyed.” Wendell spoke softly. “Now look at the results . . .”
The program had come with a cost—though not the great cost Wendell had pictured when they started meeting a year ago. The most difficult part for him was, of course, the loss of Alicia Harris. He couldn’t change her fear. Only God could do that.
Enough about Alicia. Wendell drew a deep breath. Parents’ Night was in a few hours, and Wendell had already decided to share the good news.
Like the Bible said, a person couldn’t light a lamp and put it under a bowl. God had changed the students at Hamilton High. Now it was Wendell’s job to tell the world. Whatever the cost. In doing so, maybe other kids would join in. Parents might get behind the program.
He would talk about the club in basic terms, then Jordy and Cami would share their experience. It was important that the community of parents know the truth about how God was working, and how a voluntary program was doing so much to affect Hamilton High.
Wendell was ready for possible pushback. He would go into the meeting with more than AnnaMae’s report. He had his own research from the summer a year ago. If anyone had any questions, they could pore over the material themselves. There was no denying the reality that helping students find faith in God had changed their lives.
Wendell took a deep breath and settled back into his chair. He was about to read through the statistics of AnnaMae’s report once more when there was a knock at his door. And there, like a vision from an already perfect day, stood Alicia. She looked beautiful, but she’d been crying. And something else. Her eyes looked different. Despite her sadness, they seemed stronger.
He went to her and opened the door. Everything in him wanted to take her into his arms and tell her how much he’d missed her.
But he did none of that.
“Alicia . . .” He searched her eyes.
She didn’t look down. Again he sensed a new resolve in her, a determination that hadn’t been there before. She held his gaze. “I need to talk to you. Please, Wendell.”
When they had dated more than a year ago, they would sometimes talk at their favorite place on campus. The baseball bleachers. Off to the far side of the school, the baseball field was the perfect place to meet. A line of trees separated it from the rest of the campus, so the two of them could talk without being spotted.
And if they were, that was fine, too. They had nothing to hide. Now, with school out and football practice under way, Wendell figured their favorite spot was exactly where they would go. At the last minute, he grabbed AnnaMae’s research report and the two of them walked to the baseball field.
They didn’t talk until they were seated next to each other. Wendell turned and studied her. Sitting this close to her, he missed her more than he could say. They’d lost so much time together. “It’s good . . . being with you here.”
Alicia nodded. Her expression was heavy, more troubled than before. “My school . . . it’s falling apart, Wendell. The kids are as bad off as they were here.” She stared at her hands for a minute and then looked straight at him. “Two kids died in the football stadium last night. They took some kind of street drug. Pinky, it’s called.” She shook her head. “Whatever was in it, they both died.” Her voice broke. “Two of them, Wendell. They took that poison together.”
Wendell felt the gravity of the situation. Losing two students in one day would be a terrible blow for any campus. Wendell groaned and lifted his eyes to the cloudy sky. “God, help their families.” He looked at her again. “I’m so sorry.”
She stared at him, like she was trying to figure him out. “I’ve been reading my Bible.” Her smile was sad, but deep at the same time. “All the time.” She hugged one knee to her chest and looked straight ahead at the empty baseball diamond. “Today when I saw everyone crying in the hallway and in the principal’s office, it’s like . . . I don’t know, like the Word of God came to life inside me.”
“Hmmm.” No wonder her eyes looked more resolute.
“I had this . . . boldness. I prayed with teachers and students and the parents of the kids who died.” She paused. “When the day was over, I knew I had to find you.”
His head was spinning, trying to take it all in. “I’m . . . glad you did.”
“Me, too.” She looked ahead again, like she was seeing answers that had evaded her before. “I was wrong to walk away from you. Even with my panic attacks.” Her eyes narrowed as she faced him. “But there was more to the story.” She sighed. “The day before I broke up with you, Jack Renton threatened to kill me. You, too. Anyone who got in his way.”
“What?” Understanding dawned in Wendell’s heart. Another reason why she had requested a transfer. “Did you call the police?”
“No.” Another sad smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “I talked myself out of it. What would they do to Jack Renton? I even considered a restraining order, but that would mean I’d have to see him in court.” She paused. “Then the calls stopped.” She seemed to think for a moment. “Jack’s married now. He’s out of my life for good.”
Wendell had known nothing of this. “You wanna catch me up?”
She angled her pretty face. “If you wanna listen.”
“Of course.” He moved to take her hand, and then stopped himself. He had to be careful not to blur the lines. Never mind the ache inside him, or the way it hurt to sit this close and not reach out for her. He folded his hands and waited. If he’d known about Jack’s threats, he would’ve been there for Alicia in a heartbeat. They’d missed out on each other’s lives, and Wendell regretted it.
He didn’t blink, didn’
t look away. “I still care, Alicia.”
He stopped short of telling her how much he had thought about her. Nothing good could come from that. Not now.
“I know.” A quick half smile tugged at her lips. “Thanks, Wendell.” She drew a deep breath and then she began to tell him all he’d missed. She filled in every detail. How back then she couldn’t afford to lose her job because she had lived beyond her means for Jack. But no longer. She was paying off her debt, but there was one purchase she’d had to make.
A new Bible.
When she was finished, Wendell had just one question. “How are you? Really?”
Alicia nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving his. “Better. I’m still on the medication, but I’m coming off it. I just feel, I don’t know . . . stronger.”
Hope ignited in Wendell. His prayers for the past year had been answered. “So Jack . . . he’s the reason you took so long to come see me?”
“Yes.” She hesitated. “Wendell, I didn’t want to mess up your life again. I figured you deserved someone braver than me.” She faced him. It seemed like she might have more to say, something deeper about her feelings for him. But instead she lifted her eyes to the horizon and then turned back to him. “What happened today . . . it changed everything.” Her eyes held his for a long time. “It made me realize . . . we have no guarantee of tomorrow.”
He imagined her telling him she still had feelings for him. How his heart would have loved that. Like it had been given a second chance at life.
Instead Alicia looked at him. “I talked to Jenny Anders.”
Wendell nodded. Jenny was a history teacher at Hamilton High. She was a regular attender at the Raise the Bar meetings. “Jenny’s been a big help.”
Alicia squinted against the glare of the clouds. “She told me how the kids are improving here. In every possible way. How things have changed.”
Was Alicia really just finding out now? He kept his tone gentle. “You could’ve asked me. Things started changing as soon as we began the program.”
A Moment of Weakness Page 8