Jesus Freaks: The Prodigal (Jesus Freaks #2) (20 page)

I’m not sure I want to be one of
those
people either, thinking through my classes and the people in them.

Sigh.

I miss Matt.

One might think that an entire semester of Old Testament class might be able to cover, you know, the whole Old Testament.

That person would be wrong.

Fighting to keep my eyes open in the middle of our second week back from Thanksgiving break, I’m also fighting to rid my mind of the images from that night at
The Pink Pony
.

I can’t ever do that again.

Whatever high I
thought
I felt that night while falling asleep was obliterated by sickening regret as soon as the sun rose. I didn’t sleep much that night, and what sleep I did get was littered with dreams of images I shouldn’t be seeing anywhere, never mind my subconscious. The next morning it was easy enough to lie my way out of why I hadn’t shown up at the Homecoming party.

Of course, Brad Jenks
’
mom had called my mom, asking where I’d been. With a simple wave of my hand, I told them I ended up going out for a drive, exhausted from a long semester at school.

I couldn’t look my mom in the eye.

Right now, though, the only thing keeping my eyes open and focused during class is Kennedy. She’s taken to sitting next to me every class, and even though I haven’t talked that much with her since we arrived back on campus, it’s comforting to have her nearby.

With her eyes forward on the professor, she lightly elbows me and slides her notebook to the left side of her desk, allowing me to see her writing on the page:
You’re staring at me. Don’t be weird.
Flickering my eyes back to her face, I watch half of her mouth turn up into a grin.

To be honest, I’ve thought she’s been a bit weird since break. Quieter, not scrunching her eyebrows and forehead as much, and seemingly more peaceful. Not that I don’t want any of these things for her, but she’s not really indicated a reason for the sudden change in her demeanor.

I have a million things I want to write back to her. Like,
of course I’m staring at you, you’re gorgeous.
But, that would be inappropriate. I have no business going after a preacher’s daughter. Not when I think God can take a flying leap. Even if I don’t know exactly where Kennedy’s heart’s at right now, I know where
mine
is, and no one should come within ten-feet of it.

I haven’t prayed in weeks. During nightly floor prayers, my mind keeps going back to the girls on the stage at the strip club. How did they get there? Why are they staying there? What did I hope to find there? I know I said I could never go there again, but, really, I’m visiting that place in my mind every few minutes—seconds—during the day. Maybe I really am exactly like my father, after all. Some sick anti-hero in God’s bullshit of a play.

“Mr. Wells?” Professor Towne calls from the front of the room.

Because he can’t ever just leave me alone.

“Yes sir?”

“You’re looking a little ill. Are you feeling okay?”

Chairs creak as the entire class turns back to assess me. Casting a side
-
glance at Kennedy, I clear my throat and stand.

“No. Sorry, Professor Towne, but I have to go.” Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I step over the back of my seat and beat it to the nearest exit.

I have two hours to kill before my next class, and usually have lunch soon, but I’m far from hungry right now. Lowering my head, I begin my trek across campus. I don’t make it far before I hear Jonah’s voice.

“Matt, wait up,” he calls calmly.

I like Jonah, and have no reason to want to be an ass to him, so I stop my feet and turn around. Unfortunately, Silas is with him. It’s not like I
don’t
like Silas—okay, I don’t like Silas. He’s massively uptight and always looks at everyone like he’s better than they are. I should cut him a little slack, though, since he seems to have loosened up a bit since break.

It’s amazing what can happen in four days.

“You guys should still be in class.” I nod toward the building I just exited.

“Professor Towne excused us,” Silas says. “He wanted us to make sure you were okay.”

I meet Jonah’s eyes, look at Silas, and back to Jonah. Trying to ask Jonah what, exactly, Silas is doing here. Jonah shoots me a sympathetic grin and offers a shrug, seeming to completely understand my thoughts. I don’t even know what I would say to Jonah if we were alone, but I know it’s roughly a hundred-times
worse than
what I’ll say with Father Silas here.

“Look, Silas,” I huff, “I’m not in the mood for a mini sermon right now, okay?”

Silas’ eyes fall to the sidewalk and he closes his eyes, taking a slow breath.

“I know,” he says softly. “I’m sorry, man.”

Jonah and I look at Silas with identical shock.

“What?” Jonah asks.

Silas shrugs, making eye contact with both of us as he speaks. “I’m sorry for how I’ve acted so far this semester, guys. I’ve been working up the courage to speak out about it at the prayer meetings, but I’ve been afraid, honestly. I’ve acted so foolishly … I’m sorry. I think I was just overwhelmed by a lot of things when I got to school and I went into hyper-protective mode, or something.”

My mouth falls open a little as I watch Silas repent for being … Silas. Or, what I
thought
was Silas, which, it seems, was not.

“What changed?” Jonah asks, taking over for my inability to speak.

Silas folds his long
,
lanky body onto a nearby bench. Jonah sits on the other end of the bench, while I keep my feet in place, facing them.

“When I went home for break, I had a long talk with my dad. He’s been through all of this before—going out on his own and dealing with temptation, new situations … everything. We prayed a
lot
together and, you know my sister, man, she’s so great. Such a servant’s heart in her. She prayed with me a few times, too, and helped me see that I need to repent.”

Repentance.

Such a tenuous concept in the Christian tradition. While most people, Christian or not, recognize the term to mean admitting when one has done something wrong, most people—Christian or not—miss the second part. Changing the behavior that caused the need to repent in the first place. It’s not enough to say
sorry
. This. This is at the crux of my rapidly disintegrating relationship with my father. His in-friggen-ability to turn away from sin. Or his unwillingness.

But, in front of me, Silas exhibits what I deem to be the face of someone shoulder-deep in repentance. Humility rather than guilt, determination rather than condescension.

“I’ve been harsh and unforgiving,” Silas continues his confession as classes begin to let out around us. “And, in doing so, I’ve been putting blocks up between me and God, and me and you guys. Matt,” Silas stands and puts a hand on my shoulder, “I’m sorry. Even if I don’t agree with all of your words and actions, I shouldn’t have come down so hard on you every chance I got. I’ve been missing the point, man and I’m really sorry.”

I shrug, offering a firm handshake. “Thanks, man,” I reply. “I really appreciate it.”

“Me, too,” Jonah adds, standing. “We’ve all got to help each other, but I admit I haven’t done a great job of that myself. I should have pulled you aside and talked about what was going on with you
,
Si. I’m sorry, too.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Kennedy making a beeline toward us. Knowing her, she’s going to want to crawl inside my head and pick out all the reasons I’ve been standoffish in the last couple of weeks.
I don
’
t want her to see what
’
s in there. She
’
s too good for that, and if she saw what was in there, she
’
d flee.
And she’d be right to; my moods and actions have been inconsistent.
W
hile it’s unfair to her, I don’t really have any appropriate answers. So, I need to avoid her until I get my head on straight.

“I’ve gotta get going, guys. I’ve got Statistics now. See you at lunch?” I barely await their affirmative responses before turning back down the sidewalk for my next class.

A mass of students crowd
s
the sidewalk full within seconds, and I hope to blend into the crowd and make it safely to my stats class without much fanfare.

“Matt!” Kennedy calls over the crowd. “Wait!”

Crap.

I try to ignore her, but the honest concern in her voice is too much to ignore. She may deserve better than me as a friend, but that doesn’t mean I have to prove it every chance I get.

“Matt, stop!” she pleads again.

To avoid a pileup of annoyed students in the middle of the sidewalk, I step to the side and lean against a large tree as nonchalantly as possible.

“What’s up?” I ask casually.

Kennedy’s face tightens as she pushes my shoulder. “Don’t
what’s up
me. What the he—ck is wrong with you? You haven’t stopped by the coffee shop when I’m working, and you were MIA from Bible study last week. What’s
wrong
with
you
? Did I
do
something to
...
I don’t know
...
offend you?
Though I find that hard to believe since you’ve been staring at me all weird for the last week.”

“Sorry,” I blurt out faster than I can think about it. “It’s just … break was … not really a break, and I just had a weird conversation with Silas …”

Her face relaxes slightly. “About his
transformation
?” There’s a pleasant hint of sarcasm in her voice.

“He’s talked to you about it?”

She nods. “Once. But its all Bridgette can talk about. She was legitimately freaked before Thanksgiving, but, apparently things are all Kosher—or whatever—with him now, and we’re supposed to walk around and pretend like he hasn’t been a giant fuckwad for the last—” She slaps her hand over her mouth, stopping her words. “I’m sorry,” she whispers after a few seconds.

I shake my head. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not. I really need to get a grip. I can’t walk around here like the rules don’t apply to me.”

I chuckle. “You
don’t
walk around here like the rules don’t apply to you, K. Sawyer. You’re as much of a stickler for the rules as our RA’s are.”

She looks down. “Not in my head, I haven’t been. And, really, I’m sorry. I haven’t taken the whole culture here seriously enough, Matt. I haven’t been respectful to the rules and values you guys all have. Look, I don’t want to talk about this here … on Friday can you please go to Word with the other
PK
’
s
while they have their little emotional jam-session, or whatever it is y’all do?”

Laughing, I take my hand and rest it on her forehead, making like I’m checking her temperature. “Did you just say
y’all
?”

She winks and gives a small grin. “If I’m going to come spy on you in Georgia, I’ve got to blend in.”

I take the tip of my index finger and point softly at the almost invisible hole just below the center of her bottom lip. “I don’t think
blending in
should be a goal for you.”

My finger stays on her skin for a second longer than it should. Really, it shouldn’t have been there at all. Kennedy’s lips part as she takes a quick breath, and I move my hand to my pockets. Where they should probably stay when I’m around her. Her eyes seem to gloss over like she’s about to cry.

“Sorry,” I say quickly. “I didn’t mean to make you … uncomfortable.”

Clearing her throat, Kennedy shakes her head and tucks some hair behind her ears. “No, it’s not that, just … come to Word on Friday, okay? I
need
to talk to you.”

Turning on her heels, Kennedy moves back in the direction she came from, which is weird, since I know her next class is in the building next to mine. I stay in place long enough to crane my neck and follow Kennedy’s path, watching her duck into the University Chapel. I don’t think I’ve ever known her to go there—or any church—unless it’s been required.

Shrugging it off for the time being, I book it to class, and barely make it to my seat on time. My body stays in class for the entire time this time, but my mind is far, far away. Between resisting the urge to track Kennedy down in the UC, wondering what drove her there, and the unwelcome images from the strip club still swirling through my mind, I don’t have a hope of focusing today.

Sure, I could pray for God to rid my mind of damaging clutter, and restore me to a place of faith, but I won’t.

Faith is dangerous.

It’s like falling from thirty-thousand feet with the mere inkling that there might, just might, be a net to catch you before you splatter against the earth.

I think I’ll just stay in my perfectly good airplane.