And It Was Good (Jessica Christ Book 2)

by H. Claire Taylor

  It was spoken like a slur, which was probably how it was intended. “No! But so what if I do? You want to be popular too, or else you wouldn’t be dating your way through the popular girls!”

  He held his hands up in surrender. “Easy. I date who I date because I like them. Let’s just drop it.”

  “Done.”

  She reached for the microscope to slide it across the lab table, and felt a sharp pain shoot through her forearm.

  Maybe Greg was right about cheerleading. Maybe it was a terrible idea.

  But she’d be damned if she admitted that to him aloud. So tryouts it was. It was just cheerleading anyway. It couldn’t be that difficult.

  * * *

  “I don’t know much about chess,” Destinee said over breakfast on Wednesday morning, “but I’m pretty sure it uses mostly just your brain muscle. You’ll be fine.” She poured the milk into Jess’s cereal, something that would have been difficult for Jess to do with three of the fingers on her right hand taped together.

  “Why can’t God or Jesus just tell me what my freaking miracles will be?” She grabbed the spoon with her left hand, but even lifting it up to her mouth was painful. Everything hurt.

  “You’ll feel better about yourself if you figure it out on your own,” Destinee said dismissively.

  Jess stifled a growl. “I’d feel better if I stop getting injured.”

  School was going to suck. The only consolation was that she hadn’t completely humiliated herself at cheerleading tryouts. She hadn’t made the squad—that definitely would’ve taken a miracle—but she’d also managed to wait until after she left the gym to cry, which was realistically the most she could’ve hoped for, short of a miracle. She’s escaped the ordeal with only two jammed or possibly fractured fingers, a body that was sorer than she thought a body could be, and her dignity somewhat intact. That last bit was something, at least.

  Besides the excruciating ice bath that her mother had insisted would cure all that ailed her, Jessica had spent that night researching the rules and strategy of chess. The last-minute decision to try it was born out of a mixture of resignation, self-loathing, and maybe a little bit of hope that her miracle would at least be something that risked little physical injury, even if it would simultaneously obliterate her already unfortunate social standing. Or maybe it was because part of her admitted that Greg was right and she should play to her strengths, which were clearly weighted toward the intellectual rather than the physical.

  “I didn’t even enjoy chess that much last night. The computer kept kicking my butt.” She sighed. “Maybe I should just forget about finding miracles. Life wouldn’t be so bad as just a regular pers—”

  Destinee delivered a quick flick to Jess’s cheek underneath her swollen eye. It wasn’t hard contact, but it got the point across, and Jess yelped as her hands shot up to cup her face gingerly.

  Her mother showed no remorse. “You wanna be regular? You wanna live in this shit-hole town, popping out babies you can’t afford, working a shitty dead-end job all your life? Because that’s what regular life is for McClouds. Shut the hell up about it. You gotta keep trying, baby. You’re smarter than I am by a long-shot, but patterns are patterns, and it’ll take nothing short of a miracle to break the pattern of women in our family.”

  Jess knew better than to mouth off again if she didn’t want to end up in even more pain. “Sheesh. Okay.”

  Maybe Destinee had a point anyway. Not that Jess minded their doublewide, but it would probably be nice to someday have a dishwasher or furniture that didn’t have to be covered with clear plastic to keep from stinking up the house with the smell of old cigarettes. From what she’d heard of Grandma McCloud’s set-up out west in Fort Stockton, it wasn’t much better, and didn’t even come with plastic furniture coverings, though it was apparently in equal need of them.

  Had Jesus been rich? Probably. If he could perform miracles, why wouldn’t he be? In her dream, he’d mentioned attracting a bunch of fish. Seemed like a pretty good business tool. He could probably make a killing selling fish if all he had to do was whistle or holler or fart or whatever and they’d come swimming up like a bunch of dumb idiots. She’d have to ask him about that next time she saw him. Until then, she just needed to keep trying to find her own miracles. With no other leads, chess club would have to be the next place where she sought one out.

  At lunch later that day, Greg approached her small group from across the cafeteria and sat on the seat next to Chris, opposite Jess. “Hey, I convinced Mr. Fairbanks to give me an advance copy of the scene we’ll be using for auditions.” Greg slipped her a small rolled up script underneath the lunch table.

  Chris stared at Greg, clearly confused by his sudden appearance. He looked at Jess. “Are y’all friends?” He pointed to Greg.

  “Yes,” Greg answered for her. “Anyway, you should practice up on this. If you can go off book, even at all, Mr. Fairbanks will be super impressed.”

  She unrolled the paper and looked down at the title page. “Measure for Measure? Didn’t we read that in class last year, and wasn’t it one of the weird ones?”

  Greg nodded excitedly. “Yeah, super weird.”

  “Sounds like someone I know,” said Chris, nodding not-so-subtly at Greg then chuckling at his own joke.

  Greg ignored him. “I think you would make a good Isabella.” He smiled and winked.

  Unsure what on her Father’s green earth he could be implying, she smiled back noncommittally.

  “Who are you trying out for?”

  “The Duke. I actually played him in a youth production out in Odessa last year, and I still remember a lot of the lines.”

  “How did I not know you were in a play last year?” asked Jess.

  “I didn’t tell anyone.” He stood again.

  “A genuine theater kid,” Chris mused. “You don’t see a lot of them around these parts.”

  “Hard to spot them in the bulky sea of meathead athletes,” Greg replied quickly, before nodding at Jessica and heading back over to Sandra’s table. It was obvious from Chris’s furrowed brow that he was trying his best to think of a witty reply, but Greg had already moved on.

  She watched him return to his lunch table and it wasn’t long after he’d sat down that Sandra shot her a suspicious look and grabbed Greg’s hand territorially. He didn’t say anything to her, though, opting instead to chat with Drew, who sat across the table.

  When Jess returned her attention to her friends, they were both staring at her.

  Miranda fanned her face. “Phew! I didn’t know things were heating up between you two. Finally!”

  Jess suppressed a smile. “Shut up.”

  “It must be the black eye.” Miranda grinned mockingly.

  “Wait.” Chris blinked a half-dozen times in rapid succession. “You like him?”

  “I never said that,” Jess replied coyly. “What would be wrong with that anyway?”

  Chris pressed his lips together and shook his head, disappointed. “He’s a dweeby theater kid. You’re the daughter of God.”

  “What if I want to be a dweeby theater kid, too?”

  He rolled his eyes and puffed out air. “Please. You could never be a dweeby theater kid. Even if you did decide to be in a play.”

  It was perhaps the closest Chris had ever come to complimenting her. “I don’t understand how that works.”

  “I mean, sure, you’re not in the popular clique, but you’re still… kinda cool. Greg is … I don’t know, kind of a big pussy.”

  “Chris!” Miranda chastised.

  Jess held up a hand, palm out, fingers still taped together. “Just stop, Chris. You don’t know what you’re talking about. Greg has stood up for me more times than I can count. How many times have you done that, Mister Bravery?”

  Chris stammered through a few nonsense sounds before he was able to spit out, “I— A few!”

  When Jess looked at Miranda, both of them burst into laughter.

  Chris rolled his eyes.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up … But I have. I’m no pussy.”

  “We know, we know,” Jess said, settling him down. “Now both of you stop talking to me so I can look over this script.”

  She didn’t get more than a few yards down the hall the next morning before Principal Thomas caught up with her.

  “Jess.”

  The familiar voice stopped her in her tracks, and she turned to look at Mrs. Thomas. “Morning.”

  “You have a minute?”

  “Uh sure.” Was she in trouble? The tone made her think she was in trouble, but Mrs. Thomas never got mad at her. Maybe things changed when her former teacher and assistant principal was offered the principal position at Mooremont High. Maybe Jess’s streak of avoiding discipline was done. She tried to think of a reason why she would be in trouble but came up empty.

  Well, maybe what had happened in the chess club tryouts the afternoon before, but that seemed minor enough …

  Mrs. Thomas led her the short distance into the admin offices and away from the noise of the hallway. “I heard about what happened yesterday,” she said once the door behind them had shut out most of sound from outside. A few other students Jess recognized but didn’t know by name sat in the waiting room that served the principal’s and assistant principal’s offices, but most of them looked too high or angry to care what was being said only feet away.

  “What do you mean?” Jess asked, feigning innocence as long as she could.

  “Chess club. I heard you lost your temper. Did I hear correctly?”

  Jess exhaled and her shoulders slumped. “Yeah. Chess is just way more boring than I thought it’d be, and Jarod was taking forever to make a freaking move.”

  Principal Thomas’s gaze traveled from Jess’s black eye, which had started to turn yellow around the edges, down to her bandaged hand. “I assume all that isn’t simply from flipping over the chessboard.”

  Jess shook her head. “No, the eye is softball and the fingers are cheerleading.”

  Mrs. Thomas had to lick her lips to keep from smiling, which might’ve left Jess embarrassed were she not so relieved to realize that she wasn’t in trouble. “Yeah, Sandra mentioned that you’d tried out for cheer. I almost didn’t believe her …” She paused then leaned in a little closer. “I know I haven’t really gotten much of a chance to chat with you since I took this position, and for that I’m sorry.”

  That seemed like a silly thing for her to be sorry about. Her life didn’t revolve around Jess. “It’s fine. And I’m fine. I was just a little frustrated, and chess was the final straw, I guess.”

  Mrs. Thomas crossed her arms casually. “So what’s all this about?” She motioned in small circles with the palm of her hand at the entirety of Jessica’s injuries.

  Jess shrugged. “I’m trying to find my … niche. I don’t really have anything I’m great at.”

  Mrs. Thomas’s expression softened as a warm smile settled on her lips. “That’s okay. Your value isn’t determined by what talents you have.”

  “But … I mean, you know my situation, Mrs. Thomas.” She wasn’t about to dive into an in-depth play-by-play of the Jesus sex dream with so many possible eavesdroppers nearby. And even if there weren’t eavesdroppers, she wasn’t sure she wanted to have that conversation with her former teacher.

  Mrs. Thomas didn’t seem to require further explanation, though, and nodded comfortingly. “Yes, I know. And doesn’t that knowledge alone make you feel special and worthy? You don’t have to kill yourself trying to figure out where you fit in or what you’re the best at.”

  Now there was a novel idea Jessica could get behind.

  “Is your eye okay?” Mrs. Thomas bit her lip, clearly trying to hold back another smile.

  This time Jess couldn’t help but laugh at herself. “Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

  “All right. Think about what I said, then, and you know I’m always here if you need anything.” The woman tilted her head forward, eyebrows creeping up her forehead as she stared seriously at Jessica. “And I mean that. I’ve known you so long you’re like one of my children, and I always have time to help out my children. Understand?”

  The similarity to what Jimmy had told her back before he betrayed her in grandiose fashion wasn’t lost on Jessica, but this was Mrs. Thomas. If there was an opposite of Jimmy Dean, it was her, so Jessica decided to shove the nagging discomfort of the parallel from her mind and focus on the more important part, which was that, regardless of how busy she might be in her new role as principal, Jess had a strong ally. “Yeah, I understand. Thanks.”

  “No need to thank me, Jessica. That’s just what people do for those who are important to them. Now have a good day. It’s almost Friday, which is almost the weekend!”

  Jess nodded bye then headed back out into the hallway toward first period.

  As she turned the corner where the main halls converged, she spotted Greg with his back to her, waiting outside the door to her AP World History class, which was strange, since he didn’t have that class with her, but maybe he’d decided to wait for her there anyway to chat about debate or theater. But when she got closer, she discovered the real reason he was standing there. Oh right. Sandra had that class.

  The girl was still short despite finally hitting a late puberty, which seemed to have only affected her breasts while the rest of her body stayed childlike and rail thin, and she was easily hidden behind Greg’s tall frame.

  The bell rang, and he leaned down and kissed Sandra overzealously before straightening back up and noticing that Jess had moved to stand behind his girlfriend. When he made eye contact with her, she rolled her eyes and went into the class.

  Let him think about that for a while.

  Jess settled in at her usual spot and, to her surprise, Sandra sat down next to her. The girl leaned in like she had a big, juicy secret she couldn’t wait to spill. “Greg and I have been talking about having sex with each other.”

  Considering Sandra hadn’t directly addressed Jessica in at least a year, maybe longer, she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to react to being let in on this little secret. “O-kay …”

  Sandra was getting at something. Did she know Jess had a thing for Greg? She’d only ever told Miranda and Mrs. Thomas (and yesterday Chris, but she was sure he’d forgotten already). Well, she supposed the odds were good between her well-meaning but big-mouthed best friend and Sandra’s own mother that one of them had let it slip.

  Sandra didn’t stop there, though. “I just feel like our relationship is ready for it, you know? And between you and me, he has a huge cock.”

  “Oh wow. Um … should you be telling me this?”

  “You want to know how I know?” Sandra cocked an eyebrow and worried the corner of her lip.

  “Not really.”

  She whispered, “I’ve sucked him off.”

  “Jesus Christ, Sandra. I did not need to know that.” Jess leaned away as Sandra laughed.

  “Oh Jess. If you ever want to have a boyfriend, you need to grow up. Guys aren’t going to want to be with you just for your mind.”

  Either from jealousy or the idea of putting a guy’s genitals in her mouth—or possibly the combination of the two—Jess’s breakfast tried to make a break for it up her esophagus. Sandra’s work was clearly done, so she grabbed her bag and moved to the back of the classroom where she usually sat, and Jess was left easing herself into the idea of putting a penis into her mouth and then … doing stuff. What did one do once the penis was in the mouth? Surely it didn’t just sit there. Brainstorming a few ideas, she shut her eyes and tried to imagine what it would actually be like to do any of them.

  Nope. She couldn’t do it. Too weird. Did that mean Greg would never go for her? Probably. She was way out of her depth if that’s what guys her age needed from girls. She hadn’t even kissed a boy before, let alone put her mouth …

  Gross. Gross, gross, gross. Ew.

  What was she doing? Why even bother trying out for debate? Mrs. Thomas was right. She
shouldn’t have to work so hard. How about a little divine intervention to help her figure out her miracles?

  With hope fading into the distance, her heart was faced with a reality that her mind had already known: any miracle worth discovering would have nothing to do with debate or acting. The only reason she was trying out those things was for Greg, and it looked like that was a no-go anyway, unless she was willing to …

  The image surfaced in her mind again, only this time it was clearer and his penis was more cartoonish, like the ones she’d seen in sex ed. She imagined the cartoony phallus rising up like an inflating balloon. Then images of the most wart-covered ones from the slideshow swirled with it, and she gagged.

  A penis couldn’t possibly be attractive to any woman, could it?

  Whatever Sandra’s plan was, it’d worked. And by the time Jess choked down lunch and made it to biology, she could hardly look at Greg.

  Obviously he couldn’t have known what was on her mind, but he wasn’t an idiot, and her body language must have told him something was off.

  “So you’re not mad at me?” he asked.

  “For the last time, no, I’m not mad at you. Please stop talking to me, though.”

  “It seems like you’re mad at me.”

  If he didn’t drop it, she thought she might have to club him with her taped fingers. “I’m not. I’m just trying to focus on this work.” She scrawled a few more notes as best she could with her limited dexterity.

  He dropped it until Ms. Kensington, on her way around the room to check on the students’ progress, paused by their table and asked, “Everything okay, Jessica?”

  Jess plastered a smile on her face and assured her teacher everything was fine. As soon as Ms. Kensington had moved on, though, Greg started in on it again.

  “Ha! See? I’m not just being crazy. She noticed it too.”

  “I’m just tired. It’s been a really long week and I just want it to be over.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “What?”

  “I have a feeling I know where this is headed. You’re about to back out on debate tryouts.”