“When Jesus refers to himself as the light of the world, he immediately offers us the opportunity to follow, not so we may grasp for that light, but so that we may become it, not just in the world, but in the kósmou, meaning ‘cosmos,’ the entire universe as an orderly and intentional system. ‘I am the light of the world, he who follow me shall not walk in darkness’ is a challenge to which we can and must rise. I see, in all of you, the light of the cosmos shining through. Arise, and fulfill your potential.”
When the service was over, Evan, Neesha, and Zaza waited by the benches for the area to clear, then snuck to the base of the cross. They chose a collection of rocks fifty feet away, where they’d be able to see anyone approaching, and watched as the last remaining students dissipated. Following them, most instructors and members of the clergy made the slow walk back to the staff building. Father Farke was the last to leave, hovering in the clearing outside the church. He stared up at the cross and whispered a silent prayer.
“You don’t think there’s any way this is a setup, right?” Zaza whispered. He sounded scared. “Like, the school leaves a message, then waits to see who shows up?”
“I don’t think they’re that smart,” Neesha said. “Besides, what are we guilty of?”
“I don’t know . . . thinking the school is lying?”
“We’ll tell them Evan made us do it. And they’ll believe us.”
Both of them continued ignoring him as they waited.
“Okay, you guys stay here,” Neesha said, ten minutes before nine thirty. “I’m going to check the perimeter. If you guys hear anything, let me know.”
Evan could feel Zaza watching him as Neesha walked away. He tried not to look over, but as soon as Neesha’s footsteps had disappeared around the back of the chapel—
“You might have fooled her for a minute. And she might still be entertaining you for God knows what reason. But I know exactly what you are, plebe.” From the sound of Zaza’s voice, Evan could tell Zaza was still staring straight at him. “I used to know guys like you, back in Santa Rosa. The creepy, obsessive kind. And you know where most of them are now? Prison.”
Evan didn’t say anything. Zaza’s S3—Intention wasn’t to help him. No matter what Evan said, the S8—Consequence couldn’t work in his favor. He spoke with the conviction of a person who had made up his mind.
“Here’s what I don’t get,” he continued, ignoring Evan ignoring him. “How come you can’t just yank one off to the idea of her every night, and then leave it alone? Why do you have to take this obsession of yours and make it everybody else’s problem? Get in her space, fuck everything up—can’t you see how it’s just hurting everybody?”
Evan checked his watch: 9:22 p.m.
“And honestly, man, it’s hurting you more than anything. You’re spending your entire life deciding to feel good about yourself or not based on the opinion of one person, who doesn’t even know you well enough to have an opinion of you? Is that really a way to live?”
He leaned back like he was done. But he wasn’t. “Finally, sorry, not trying to pile on or anything, but last question—what’s your plan, or endgame, or whatever, anyway? What do you think is actually gonna come from your peeping and following and . . . stealing her journal and shit? What if she was to turn around and notice you one day—what happens?”
Evan checked for Neesha’s return but she was nowhere to be seen.
“Whatever, man. I hope you find what you’re looking for. And I really hope that in the process, you don’t get Neesha expelled. And honestly, for your sake, I hope you never, ever have a conversation with Emma, ’cause I don’t think there’s any way that ends well for—”
“Most people are sad.”
“What?”
“Most people are sad,” Evan said. “And lonely. To those people, there’s no such thing as good love or bad love. All love is significant.”
Zaza was slow to respond. “Who told you that?” he asked.
“My mom.” He swallowed. “Something bad was going to happen to Emma. She didn’t have anyone to talk to about it and I could see that it was coming because it happened to my mom.
“If she turned around I would have said hi. I followed her because I wanted to know more about her. I stole her journal because I thought it would help me understand. I had a plan to introduce myself, but then I never got the chance.
“I wanted her to talk to me and like me, but I didn’t care that much as long as she was okay. I wanted to be her friend or maybe her boyfriend so I could help her. I didn’t want to yank anything off; I don’t even know what that is. I just didn’t want anything bad to happen to her. I promised myself that I would help her. I watched her because it seemed like nobody else was.”
Zaza absorbed it. “All love is important?” he finally asked, and Evan nodded. “Yeah . . . I guess I’d tell you that if you were my kid, too.”
“Five minutes,” Neesha said, returning. “And nobody even close to the area.”
His mom had said that. Many, many times. There was a sermon once where the pastor had talked about imbalances of love; either a love that was given more strongly than the love that was reciprocated, or a love that was given by a person who seemed more worthwhile than the person receiving it and vice versa. But Mom had said she didn’t believe in that, and if you start believing in that, it becomes the root of everything that hurts you. She said you could measure and quantify every other part of the world, but when it came to love, there were no scales. The well wishes of a grocery store cashier aren’t made less important because some people write love letters; Zaza saying that someone was cute made that person no more or less cute than Evan saying it. All love is significant.
At exactly nine thirty, the door to the church closed, echoing across the back lawn. They stared at the spot.
It took a moment for anything to interrupt the light spilling out from the top of the cross, but slowly, a figure did, creeping in silhouette toward the platform.
“Hello?” Neesha called.
Whoever it was didn’t respond, inching closer to them, limping.
“Emma?” Neesha whispered, but there was no response. Evan took a deep breath and began to walk toward the approaching figure. Neither of them said anything as the distance closed, but it sounded like it was mumbling to itself, whispering incantations.
Evan stepped closer still, less than five feet from where the noise had come from. He pulled his flashlight from his belt and shined it, feet first, scanning up the body in front of him.
“Eddy?”
He was wearing the same light blue jeans, metal band T-shirt, and gray sweatshirt that he always wore. He looked as surprised as they were.
“What’s he doing here?” Zaza asked, as though any of them would have an answer.
As soon as Evan’s flashlight hit Eddy’s face, Eddy started blinking, shrinking away from the beam, a moan softly whimpering out of his mouth.
“Eddy, why are you here?” Every time Evan tried to advance, Eddy cowered backward. Evan checked his watch—it was exactly nine thirty, just like the code had said. “What are you doing?”
Neesha walked over, stepping between them. Slowly, she reached out her hand and held it there. After staring for a moment, Eddy reached back.
“The flood,” he whispered to Neesha. “Th-the flood.”
In the bounce of the flashlight, Evan could see that he was squeezing Neesha’s hand tight, crumpling her fingers together and turning their tips pale.
Her eyes stayed focused on his face. “What flood?”
“I-it took her,” he said quietly. “The flood.”
Every time Evan had observed Eddy, his face seemed incapable of registering a response, like his programming was controlled by a far-off system, a virus, that kept him in his own world. But he was actually listening to Neesha.
“What is the flood?” Zaza asked again. “Another code? Something in the Bible?”
Neesha wasn’t listening to any of them. She was staring bac
k into Eddy’s eyes. “It’s not a code. It’s a place.”
Aiden.
HE LED PETER around a sloping path toward the chapel, both keeping their heads low. The rest of the students had mostly filtered back to the dorms, but three times, Aiden and Peter had to reverse course quickly to avoid passing maintenance workers in the fog. It was clear there were extra workers patrolling the lawn tonight.
Neither of them spoke, but they both were breathing heavy. “Hey,” he whispered. “Sorry I called you a degenerate.”
“Shh.” Peter sprinted forward, his head below the cut of the grass, stopping at the mouth of a wide path to the chapel.
Aiden caught up. “Seriously, I don’t know what I was thinking. I was calling you a shitty person and a failure, meanwhile, I don’t even think I like basketball—”
“Seriously, shut up,” Peter spat back under his breath. “No time for a gushy redemption scene.” He turned around. “But thank you.”
They sprinted to the main doors, pausing for a second before slipping inside. It wasn’t an instructor or a secretary that greeted them.
It was Zaza, cowering in the doorway.
“Are you serious?” he asked.
“What luck!” Peter shouted, pushing past him. “You guys again?” Inside, Evan and Neesha stood huddled in the back. “Wait . . .”
“What are you doing here?” Neesha asked.
“We just read this old blueprint—” Aiden noticed Eddy behind her. He pointed. “He wasn’t always like this! When he came to school here, he had the whole Bible memorized.”
“A theologian,” Peter said, jumping in. “Not messed up in the head.”
“Jesus.” Zaza took a step back. “How much Apex did you guys take?”
“That’s all you get from that?” Aiden shouted. “Look, the school is up to something, we’ve got crazy proof! There was a room here called the Reception Room, and . . .” He took stock of his surroundings. “Why are you guys here?”
“He told us to,” Neesha said, nodding to Eddy.
“He told you?”
“I know, it sounds ridiculous,” she said. “But he kept saying it, so I figured he wanted us to come . . .”
The group followed her eyes as her sentence ran out, into the ground and up the center aisle of the church. Without a word, lost in the crossing glances, Eddy had begun walking forward toward the moonlight entering the front enclave. Neesha’s eyes followed behind him, lifting to the enormous portrait at the front of the chapel, glowing blue in the reflection of moonlight off the pews. “The flood.”
As Eddy reached the front, he continued around the pulpit and behind it, disappearing underneath what looked like additional pipes for the organ.
They watched the spot where he had disappeared without a word. Ten seconds later, a shadow, a figure, with a walk that wasn’t Eddy’s, came out from behind the organ.
Aiden felt like the air had been sucked out of him. It was Emma.
Evan.
AIDEN WAS THE first to rush over to her and wrap her in an enormous hug.
“Oh my God!” Evan could hear him smothering Emma. “Where have you been? God, I’ve been losing my mind.” Aiden held her for a few more seconds before she took herself back, smiling at him but not saying anything, pulling away to take in the small group surrounding her.
She was wearing an oversized black sweatshirt, and leggings, torn at the bottom to reveal a patch of skin on her lower leg; the only skin visible, other than her face. The circles under her eyes were deep red, maybe from not sleeping or maybe from crying or maybe both. But her face still glowed at the front of the church.
Evan took a few steps back, behind Peter. He didn’t want to force their moment onto her.
Emma turned to Neesha next. “You found me,” she said softly, falling into an embrace. Evan watched Neesha’s face begin to shake, and then fully cry.
When they pulled apart, Emma was crying too. She scanned the faces around the room. She buried herself in Zaza’s arms and he offered her a “Holy shit” in return, patting the top of her head. Next, she turned to Eddy and lowered herself to meet his line of sight. “You did it,” she whispered.
“We found him back here, by the cross,” Zaza explained.
“No.” Emma shook her head, still focused directly on Eddy’s eyes. “He found you.”
She backed away, radiating outward to the rest of the room, passing over Evan’s face to Peter’s, then returning to Evan’s.
Evan’s eyes locked onto Emma’s. She froze and just looked at him. Nothing worked. Thoughts stopped. Body still.
Emma’s breathing began to pick up. “What the fuck is he doing here?” she whispered.
His heart froze. She was talking about him.
Zaza took a few steps over to her. “Evan?”
The wheels began to spin too fast. Information, she knew who he was. Subtext, she was angry. Subtext, she knows everything. Consequence—
Neesha was staring at him, too. “That’s Evan. He helped us find you.”
Emma looked around wildly. “Are you serious? He was following me!”
Aiden took a step toward him. “I told you, he’s fucked up—”
“Why would you bring him here?” Emma was shaking. He was making her shake.
“No, I know.” Neesha stumbled. “You don’t really know him, but . . .”
“He was spying on me!” Emma threw her hood over her head, blocking any view of her face.
All Evan could see of Emma was the up-and-down of her deep breaths, the movement of her hoodie. She was whispering something into Neesha’s ear. “With them . . . know where I am,” was all he heard.
His breathing went manic. He could feel his windpipe closing.
It didn’t make sense. He didn’t deserve this reaction. He was helping. He hadn’t lied. Everything he’d done, he’d done to help her. All he’d ever done was show her that he loved her, in exactly the ways that people love each other.
Everyone was staring at him. They hated him. Everyone thought he was a bad guy. Now he was going to have to escape the people he’d thought were his friends. Now he’d never see Emma again. He wanted to scream something, yell at someone, but his mouth was short-circuiting with a perpetual “I—I—”
His eyes landed on Neesha. “Yeah.” She was looking at him like she was in pain. “He wasn’t working for anybody. He’s the one who found you. And he led all of us here.”
Emma turned to Neesha, slightly back to him, enough to see the outline of her profile. “But . . .”
Neesha continued before Emma could figure out her question. “He solved your Bible messages.”
Zaza leaned in, his hands in his pockets. “I can confirm that. He’s super weird, but . . . he’s harmless.”
Emma buried her face into the sleeves of her hoodie. Evan stared at the back of her hood, the place where her face should be.
“You were following me, just . . . for fun?” she asked into her sleeve.
Evan felt his lungs find their rhythm again and took his first true breaths since entering the church. “It—” He paused for a moment, planning his sentence. “It j-just seemed like you needed someone.”
Emma took a deep breath, scrunching her face together, then released it with an audible exhale. “God, that’s so weird.”
“Let us take care of you.” Aiden stepped toward her, but she jumped back.
“No—I’m sorry.”
Aiden looked crushed.
Her eyes shot frantically around the church again. “No one knows you guys are here, right?”
Every head nodded.
“You?” Zaza asked.
“No one except Eddy.”
“Is it safe for us to be here?” Zaza asked. “People might be looking for us. Should we hide out until there’s a better time—”
“Fuck that,” Aiden said. “We’re here now. I’m not letting you disappear again.”
Peter nodded. Neesha stared forward at Emma.
“Zaza’s rig
ht.” Emma bit her lip. Evan had forgotten she did that. “I can’t really explain why, but . . . it’s better for you guys if you go back.”
“Come on.” Aiden groaned. “Is it that bad?”
Everyone’s heads turned back to Emma once more. “I can’t tell you . . . because—”
“Say it,” Aiden said.
“I can’t tell you . . . because once I tell you, you won’t be able to go back.”
It was silent in the church.
Aiden raised his head and walked a small loop around Neesha, past Evan, past Peter, and past Emma, to the front of the church. He stopped in the very front pew, turned to look directly at Emma, and sat down.
Aiden.
THEY SAT ON the floor in the center nave of the church.
Even though all six were hidden from the front door by pews, to be safe they set up a small, cascading security system to protect Emma. Neesha and Zaza would sit in the center aisle, ready at a moment’s notice to assume some kind of praying position; they might be able to kill suspicion there. Next were Peter and Evan, who could roll under a pew, who would play the alcohol angle: they’d just come into the church to drink. After that, Aiden would try to charm them, and if not, he was willing to drop a teacher in a minute. He wasn’t going to let anyone get to Emma, even if it did seem like she’d forgotten how to be close to him. Finally, Emma and Eddy sat against the altar, ready to slide back beneath it and drop the cover.
Emma talked just louder than the wind whipping the roof of the chapel.
“I’m not sure how to tell—”
“Everything,” Neesha insisted.
“Um. Okay. I’ve been here four years, and I haven’t left that entire time. And that’s always been okay, because . . . I felt like there was some reward coming, like the school always promised it was going to get better. And this summer, I realized that wasn’t going to happen. I got really detached, I stopped talking to people, I kept trying to write poetry and failing and . . . I don’t know. I ended up just writing in my journal, all the time.
Redemption Prep Page 19
