by JR Thompson
“That’s right,” Ericka asserted, shrugging her shoulders. “But… the piano’s startin’ to play. I’ve gotta go sit down. Church is about to st—”
Just as that final word tried to drip from her tongue, the sanctuary door opened. Ericka’s brother, Steve, barged in along with their old man. From the way their father carried himself, Titus was sure he must have formerly been a marine. His dark, piercing eyes seemed to be penetrating deep into Titus’s mind.
The piano was playing, but Mr. O’Malley paid no attention. He and Steve quickly approached and the man spoke right up, “Ericka, who’s this?”
Steve piped up on her behalf, “His name’s Twit.”
“Actually, it’s Titus,” Ericka interjected. “And he’s just a new friend.”
Titus stood at near perfect attention while Ericka’s father walked a circle around him, silently, menacingly inspecting him from head to toe.
Once he completed his inspection, Titus addressed him, “Sir, I understand we don’t really know each other, but I’ve been speaking to your daughter here and I was wondering if you’d mind if she and I talk on the phone to get better acquainted with one another.”
“Absolutely not,” Steve replied. “Stay away from my sister.”
The drill sergeant offered Steve a hateful eye for a moment before turning to Titus. “I will deliberate on it, son. Allow me some time.”
Sure, Titus thought. How much time? All I want is her phone number. How difficult is it to say yes?
19: Free Money
For once, Titus didn’t mind that Brock had given him a huge assignment. Grant it, it was his first time cleaning a church building alone, but Brock had provided him pretty clear instructions. He knew he didn’t have to tackle the chore until Monday, but figuring it would be just as easy to get it done right after the service, he stuck around after everyone else had left.
Grabbing a washcloth and some furniture polish, he made his way into the sanctuary and began wiping down the first wooden pew he came to. I wonder how often Ericka comes here? he pondered as he methodically dusted the seat. I hope she’ll be back Wednesday. That girl could quite possibly be my one and only. Titus found it a real struggle to concentrate on his chores, but he did the best he could.
The teen didn’t get far before the roar of a firetruck’s siren distracted him even further. Tossing down the rag, he ran to the window just in time to catch sight an ambulance whizzing by. I don’t see any smoke, he thought. A police car joined the parade. Must be an accident. Titus stayed glued to the window for a few moments just in case anything exciting happened. When it was clear things had calmed down, he continued dusting the sanctuary before grabbing the vacuum cleaner from the supply closet.
The church already looks presentable to me. I don’t see a speck on the carpet anywhere. What were Brock’s exact instructions? Oh yes, I remember. Run the vacuum. Titus chuckled as he plugged it in. Okay, Brock. As you wish. He started it up, let it run for five seconds, and shut it off. The vacuum has now been run.
After putting the vacuum away, Titus headed into the ladies’ room to take out the garbage, replenish the toilet paper, and wipe down the sinks and toilets.
Why does it feel so weird to enter the ladies’ room? I know nobody’s going to be in here. I’m the only person in the building.
Once inside, Titus felt uneasy. All of the stall doors were closed. Somebody could be hiding in here. He knew it was silly, but he always hated being in a room with several closed doors. He kicked the first stall door – whew! Nobody in there. He kicked the second one — empty! Opening the third door, he was amazed to spot a twenty-dollar bill laying on the floor. Twenty bucks? Free for the taking?
Titus picked it up and clutched it in his palm. It had been a while since he had twenty dollars. He meditated about what he should do with it. He could take it to Pastor O’Malley. He could slip it in the offering plate the next time it came around. But if God wanted it to be used by the church, surely He wouldn’t have let someone just leave it laying here on the night He knew I was going to be cleaning. God probably wanted me to have it — as a tip for working on His house maybe. Titus had no idea what he was going to use the money for, but the one thing he was sure of is that he was not going to tell anyone about it. It was between him and God.
Why is the ladies’ room so much nicer than the mens’ room? he asked himself, noticing how much larger the ladies’ restroom was. They even have automatic air fresheners in here.
The sound of feet coming down the stairs suddenly startled him. Oh, man. The only thing worse than being alone in a room full of doors is knowing someone else is in the building with you when it’s supposed to be empty.
Titus crept out of the restroom and into the hall. A moment later, Keagan sneaked around the corner and was taken back when he saw Titus. “Whoa! What are you doin’ here, man?”
Titus balled his fists. “You guys ran off on me. I thought you were my friends. The question isn’t why am I here? The question is… why are you?”
“Look, man. Adam and I thought you were gonna be sent back to your parents. We thought that guy might get you to rat us out and we didn’t want any trouble.”
“Rat you out? You think I’m a snitch?”
“Nah, man. It’s not like that. But things happen,” Keagan replied.
“So what are you doing here now? And where’s Adam?”
“I’m… uh… wait. I asked you first. Why are you here?”
“I’m cleaning.”
Keagan smirked. “Same reason I’m here, man. How about that? You must’ve beat me to it.”
“I think we’re talking about two different kinds of cleaning, Keagan.”
“Right… Titus, a changed man? Where’s the loot, guy?”
“I’m straightening up my life, dude. Really, I am. I go to church here now and it’s my turn to clean… Where’s Adam?”
“He got some erratic idea that people were onto us, so he split. I guess all of us are on our own now, huh?”
Brock’s voice suddenly boomed down the steps from the sanctuary. “ABOUT FINISHED IN HERE, TITUS?”
“You didn’t see me,” Keagan whispered. “Just go back upstairs, tell the guy you’re done, and I’m as good as outta here.”
“TITUS? YOU IN HERE?” Brock hollered again.
Titus glared at Keagan for a short moment. A part of him wanted to see him fry. On the other hand, he was ready to move on with life. “YEAH, I JUST FINISHED UP. BE RIGHT THERE!”
“Thanks, man,” Keagan replied.
20: Thumper
“Hey Bible Thumper,” a cruel classmate called out to Remington Monday morning. “Do you think Saint Peter’ll let me into Heaven when I get there?”
“Saint Peter has nothin’ to do with it. Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life. If you believe in Him and ask Him into your heart, He’ll let you into Heaven.”
“So even though everybody else says Saint Peter’ll be standing at the gates, you’re smarter than they are?”
Here we go again, Remmy thought. How does this always happen to me? “Let’s not argue.”
Just as the last word dove off of his tongue, a girl’s slobber-covered finger forced its way into his ear. Remmy’s eyes widened as he knocked her hand away. Several other kids began mocking him.
Sometimes I hate my life, he thought. Seems like everybody’s always bullying me.
Another girl seemed to read his thoughts. “Quit letting everybody treat you that way,” she suggested. “Stand up for yourself once in a while.”
Remington considered her statement, but didn’t utter a word; he didn’t have to. He, like everyone else in the room, knew he was too straight-laced to do anything that could possibly get him in trouble at school. He wasn’t about to get in a fight — no matter what.
Fortunately, Mr. Rhymes marched in before things could go any further. “Morning, Class. Please take out your assignment books.”
As Remington reached into his desk, a series of n
egative ideas stampeded through his mind. Why do I always get picked on? Why do I always get made fun of? I don’t have to be so different. I don’t always have to talk about the Bible. I don’t have to be the obedient kid all of the time. Maybe people would leave me alone if I wasn’t such a nerd. Maybe if I would just, on occasion, do something to get detention… or to at least have a teacher yell at me.
Mr. Rhymes wandered around checking everyone’s assignment books to make sure they had filled them out properly from the previous week. Remington waited patiently as he heard Mr. Rhymes lecture students about sloppy handwriting, incomplete written logs, misspelled words, and poor grammar usage. Then, as he suspected, Mr. Rhymes patted him on the top of his head, “Excellent job, Remmy. I thoroughly enjoy checking your assignment book. Your writing is invariably as neat as can be. Your spelling is right on target. Everything is so detailed! You are going to go somewhere in life young man.”
“He’ll go somewhere all right,” a boy toward the front of the class retorted. “Probably to his home planet, wherever that might be.”
“That’s enough,” Mr. Rhymes fussed. “Another insult and you’ll spend your lunchtime in detention with me.”
“For what? Joking about the teacher’s pet?”
“Congratulations Alan, you just got yourself detained for the remainder of the week. See you at lunch.”
Serves him right, Remington thought, while trying not to smile.
Alan was far from being done with Remington. When it was time to change classes, he sneaked up behind Remmy and knocked his books out of his hand. “Oops!”
Another boy coming toward him said, “What happened, BIBLE THUMPER? Seems like you can’t ever get to class without dropping something.”
Without answering, Remmy squatted down to pick his books back up, but before he could, a girl gave the stack a good kick, spewing them everywhere.
Great! Remmy thought as he watched his books and homework assignments getting trampled. I hate this school.
Alan harassed him as he gathered his books. Stomping his foot in rhythm, he began chanting, “THUMP-ER, THUMP-ER, THUMP-ER.”
Remmy hoped no one else would join in, but the thought was useless. Two or three boys joined in, then a couple of girls, and before he knew it Remmy had his books in his hands and was making a mad dash toward the stairwell with more and more students chanting, “THUMP-ER, THUMP-ER, THUMP-ER.”
Entering the hall on the third floor, one of the football players plowed into him and laughed menacingly. His books flew out of his hand again. Come on! Remmy thought, letting out a sigh and trying to gather his books as they were being kicked around like a soccer ball.
By the time he got to class, Mr. Davenport was in the middle of taking roll. “You’re tardy, Russell.”
Remmy felt like crying, but he knew better than to let his emotions show.
“Everything okay, Russell? You’re not being bullied, are you?”
Remington glanced at his peers who were already sitting in their desks. Oh, what evil glares he received! “No, sir. I just had to… I don’t have any good excuses, sir. I’m sorry for being late.”
✽ ✽ ✽
While the boys were at school and Brock and Titus were working, Victoria was busy in her detective work.
Talking to civilians is no use, she told herself, driving around town hunting for the police officer who had prayed with her.
After half an hour of searching, she caught sight of her strolling down Main Street.
Taking no chances on losing her, Victoria pulled her car over to the curb. Rolling down her window, she said, “Hi, do you remember me?”
The officer smiled. “I sure do. How are things going in your new line of work?”
Huh? Victoria thought. “My line of work? You mean the ministry?”
“No,” the officer teased. “I mean your private detective work.”
Victoria blushed. How does she know about that? “What do you mean?”
“Don’t worry about it, sister. I’d probably do the same thing if I were in your shoes.”
“You would?”
“Probably,” the officer replied.
“Will you help me, then?” Victoria asked.
The officer smiled. “Of course. My job is to protect and serve, remember? How can I help?”
“I don’t know. Just feed me some information. Give me a place to start.”
The officer giggled. “I’m bound by a code of ethics. I can’t release personal details of what I know about individuals if that’s what you’re asking for.”
Victoria hesitated for a moment. “No, I’m not asking you to do that. Just to give me a lead or two I can follow up on.”
“Ma’am, we’re doing everything we can to solve this case. I promise you it’s all being looked into.”
“Do you have any serious leads?” Victoria asked.
“We do.”
“Are they affiliated with the ministry?”
“Code of ethics, ma’am. Code of ethics.”
Victoria looked flustered. “Please. Our family could be in danger. We need to know what’s going on. Please. Surely you can tell me something.”
The officer laughed. “You’re a persistent little thing, aren’t you, sister?”
Victoria didn’t answer. Instead, she sat in silence awaiting a real response.
“I’ll tell you this and nothing else. We have reason to believe the arsonist who has been targeting our town has moved on and a copycat has now picked up where he left off.”
“WHAT?” Victoria exclaimed. “That’s crazy!”
21: A Dirty Bet
Brock set his paddle on the hood of the car as a reminder that he was not going to take anything whatsoever off of Scottie. He knew the boy had just gotten out of school, it was Monday, and he was tired. That didn’t excuse him, however, from being required to work harder than he had ever worked in his life. The thirteen-year-old would not be permitted to take a break until the entire clean-up job was complete.
Scottie, as surprised as Brock was, continued to insist he was wholly innocent. He claimed he had no idea what had happened to the work site, but Brock didn’t care. His actions spoke a lot louder than his words did. Just as he got Scottie started with his work, Remington showed up and asked how he could help.
“We’re going to go about things a bit differently today, bud,” Brock told him. “I’m going to be maintaining a close eye on Scottie, so you will be working exclusively with Titus. Titus, that means I’m trusting you to guide Remmy as to what needs to be completed in order for things to get cleaned up.”
“So I’m in charge?” Titus asked.
“No. I’m saying I’m ordering you to guide him.”
Titus smiled and said, “Same difference. Come on, Remmy. Help me pick up all of these broken pieces of 2x4s. I’ve been stacking ‘em up along the edge of the driveway.”
At first, the two boys worked almost in silence so they could overhear the discussion between Brock and Scottie. But eventually, they began to do a little conversing themselves.
“So is this all you’ve been doing today? Straightening up this mess?” Remmy asked.
“Yeah. But I’d rather be working on this than doing school work any day,” Titus replied.
Remington tossed a few broken boards onto the stack. “I kind of like doing school, but I hate being in class.”
“Why’s that, big guy?”
“Cause everybody makes fun of me. They call me Bible Thumper and say I’m too afraid to be a real boy.”
Titus picked up a few more boards and repeated Remmy’s phrase, “Afraid to be a real boy? What is that supposed to mean?”
“They say real boys don’t regularly do everything their teachers and parents tell them to. They live on the edge.”
Titus stopped walking for a moment. With a smile he said, “Well, I can see where they’re coming from. You are a little on the… well… studious side.”
Remmy didn’t say anything for a mome
nt. He added a few pieces of broken lumber to his armload. He could hear Brock commanding Scottie to work faster and insisting he put his best foot forward. Brock was threatening to wear his backside out if he didn’t stop loafing. So Scottie’s a real boy, Remington thought. He gets in trouble and lots of it. I’m not a real boy because I do what adults expect of me. I guess if adults like a kid, he’s not a real kid?
Titus’s chuckle crashed his thought train. “How much you wanna bet he gets his behind toasted before the day’s out?”
“I don’t bet,” Remmy replied.
“Why? Cause you’re afraid of gettin’ in trouble?”
Remmy hesitated for a second before answering, “No, cause I don’t have any money to wager.”
“Oh, is that all that’s stoppin’ you? Let’s bet something else then.”
“Like what?”
“Like… if he gets his pants set on fire, tonight you and I are gonna sneak out and see what we can get into.”
The look on Remington’s face was priceless. “Sneak out? Like… outta the house?”
Titus showed him a mischievous smile and nodded, “Yep.”
Remmy’s words left him for a moment. He wanted to fit in with the other guys. He was tired of being a square. But leaving home behind his parents’ backs? That was a bit extreme.
Remington decided he would rather contemplate the alternative. “What happens if he doesn’t get spanked?”
With a sly grin, Titus replied, “In that unlikely event, I’ll sneak out by myself… and if you wanna snitch, you can without fear of repercussions.”
Appearing and sounding doubtful, Remington questioned, “So I can tell on you, and if you get in trouble, you’re not gonna beat the snot outta me?”
“Nope.”
Remmy turned around to face Brock and Scottie in the distance. “I don’t know... I’ve never sneaked out before.”
“First time for everything. You wanna be a real boy or not?”
The power of peer pressure was immeasurable. “Of course I do... It’s a deal,” Remmy grumbled.