by RJ Martin
“You zhouldn’t be here.” Father Svi glanced at Rusty and then set about removing his vestments. “Please leave.”
“You need a ride?” He seemed unfazed.
“My mom is coming.”
“I’m already here.”
“She’s on her way.” I felt tingly just being with him but angry too. Rusty came to my work and didn’t take it seriously at all. He embarrassed me and worse, almost got me caught. Give him up.
“All right, bye.” He backed up and nodded to Father Svi. “Thank you for letting me be here this morning.”
His sincerity temporarily disarmed the priest, and Father Svi forced a smile. “God be with you, zon.”
“I hope so.” Rusty gave me a slight wave and at last left. I didn’t even have a chance to sigh because Father Dom passed him in the doorway.
“Who was that?” He liked to greet the faithful, especially on holy days. Even among the parishioners not too many “kept kosher,” as he said.
“Angie’s boyfriend.”
Father Svi gave me a weird look, more odd than usual.
“His mother is a famous writer,” I told them both at once.
“Jace Naylor?” Father Dom sounded impressed.
“Yes, Father.”
“Was she here today?” Father Dom’s enthusiasm reminded me of my mother the day I met Rusty.
“No, Father.”
“Are they Catholic?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Perhaps I should contact Ms. Naylor. She may be looking for a spiritual awakening. Many people are.”
“And she’s rich.” Father Svi shocked me with his comment and I think Father Dom too. The tips of his ears reddened. I think because I was there, they didn’t say anything else. Father Svi grabbed his hat and coat. It was wintry mixing outside, but he left before putting them on. I kept quiet as Father Dom stewed.
“Have your parents met dis boy?” The Brooklyn was back in his voice. Now it was just a matter of for how long.
“Yes.”
“And day approve?” Father Dom rubbed the back of his pretty-much-bald head.
“You’d have to ask them.”
“He could use a haircut,” Father Dom chuckled and recaptured the upbeat, caring side that made him a good priest. “So could you.” He mussed my hair and shook away my crisp side part. Didn’t he know it took a good five minutes to get it straight?
“I’m too old for that, Father.”
“Hmm, you are.” He did it again. “But I’m not.” We both laughed, and I thought maybe the boss was having his employee let me know it was all okay. JC wasn’t mad as long as I did what he wanted. Give him up. Mom honked and Father Dom grunted. As she drove me away, I had every intention of doing so too.
“TODAY, WE leave the world of straight lines, rays, and segments far behind us. Well, until finals but between now and then, I am going to rock your worlds.” Mr. Strong slapped the laser pointer against his palm and sent a brief pulse of light against the wall. He was too into this, and with the visual, some in the class snickered.
“This is exciting, why?” Darcy sat beside me and rolled her eyes.
“Is it?” I smiled through the tense boredom that lately was my normal state at school. It was hard to compete with what had been going down when I was not there.
“Chad and I bailed after Communion or we would’ve given you a ride.”
“No worries.” I wanted to forget morning Mass.
“Chad thinks that guy is a tool.”
“I know.”
“She’s your sister. Don’t you have an opinion?”
“We will venture further into the world of mathematics to the place between geometry and the trigonometry you will be studying next year.” It seemed so far away. Junior year, I would drive. I’d take the SAT, but it wouldn’t matter because I was off to the seminary. Maybe that was as far as I’d let my mind take things. Maybe I should study more for it and try my best. If I scored high enough I could get a scholarship to a regular college if I ended up not following JC after all. No, of course I was going to be a priest. It was my calling. Still, doing well might help when they someday considered me for a bishop’s miter or later on, if the Vatican wanted me to get a master’s or doctorate. Yes, I would sign up for a prep class. Mom and Dad would like to hear that too. I’d tell them tonight. It could be just what they’d need to see the retreat as a good investment.
“Yes, today we enter the world of arcs.” Mr. Strong drew a curved line across the straight one on his graph. “And swirls, and spirals, and infinite movement in space.”
“Whoa,” Fred Granger said in a mocking stoner way. Thick of body and of mind, the red-headed dude was a Bart jock pal and therefore not one of mine. Then again, I had only two.
“Exactly.” Mr. Strong clicked the laser pointer and made the beam swirl in the air.
“Jonah?” Darcy asked again. “What do you think?”
“Whoa.”
“YOU KNOW why you’re here?”
“I just had geometry.” Sister Margo had stopped me in the doorway, and we stayed behind while Mr. Strong used his free period to slip behind the building for his midday smoke. He was mondo anal in all things. I guess that aided in his teaching of bullet points and lines or maybe was the result.
“Why you’re here now?” Her brown-bag eyes locked on me.
“No, Sister.” I was back in my seat. I guess so she could better hover over me. The principal nun pulled out the roster for the retreat and set it in front of me like a detective in the dimly lit interrogation room on TV cop shows: her smoking gun. “It looks pretty full.” I knew that I was the suspect in the chair. I still held out hope here was where she’d thank me.
“It would seem there are several new faces this year.”
“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” I suddenly found the sign-up sheet fascinating, but Sister Margo snatched it away before I could see more names than the first few. Chad and Darcy were one and two. I skipped down past the more loser-ly usual attendees like Callie Hayes. Karen had signed up, Maya too. Even Dwight was on there.
“Have you been soliciting your classmates?” Her hands came down on either side of the desk. “Jonah?” This was where the TV detective always yelled “Confess!”
“I just told people why I wanted to go.” True, kind of. Now was when she should’ve thanked me. Told me how my persuasiveness in JC’s name showed I’d be a great priest.
“I just hope there hasn’t been any misrepresentation here.” Her coffee breath wafted against the side of my nose with each word. “There is no room for ‘hanging out,’ in a schedule based on contemplation, discussion, and prayer.” Little bits of spit flew out of her mouth. “This weekend is to gird you students for the great challenges young people face in a secularized, hedonistic world, Jonah.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Sex again, what is it with her?
“If you convinced your classmates to attend without hoping to gain from it, that would be one thing, Jonah.” She had to make me feel worse: her job. “I can’t help thinking you did all this because you were hoping to somehow force me to give you a place when everyone else’s parents are paying. Yours is not the only family that is struggling, young man.”
“But I’m going to be a priest,” I whispered, like Chad.
“Well, I don’t think your actions here are particularly pastoral, Mr. Gregory.”
I really wished she’d pick one way to refer to me and stick with it. “Does this mean I can’t go?” I looked at her now. Rather than be intimidated I would meet her head-on: old servant versus future servant. “What if my parents pay for it?”
“If it were solely up to me, I’d have to say no, but I’ll need to speak with Father Dominick. This is a parish matter as well as one for the school.” She scowled and stepped back toward the door. Like my sinful presence offended her more pious sensibilities. “I think you should stay here during your lunch period and think about what you’ve done.” Not eating was a bigg
ie for the nuns too. All the way back at Holy R, the sisters would sell ice cream sandwiches on Fridays and then guilt us into putting our coins in the collection basket for the poor children that didn’t get ice cream. Of course that meant we didn’t get any either. It was kind of a brain pretzel for a nine-year-old. Me being, well me, I’d bring money for the collection for the starving and ice cream but then give both. Chad always gave me half of his, so it wasn’t that much of a sacrifice. I was only just starting my training.
A HAND flew in and slammed shut my gym locker. I spun around expecting it to be Bart, but Dwight Aaron was in my face. All at once everyone stopped changing into their gym clothes, even Bart. “Did you say it?”
“Say what?” With Bart already steaming about my trying to help with his dad, the last thing I needed was another basketball player mad at me.
“You told Karen I was into her.”
“No.” Out of the corner of my eye I could see Chad turning pale like Dwight always was. It was Darcy’s lie I’d let stand. Chad inched backward. His eyes stayed fixed on me. I couldn’t sell out Darcy. Doing so would end both of our friendships; I was sure of it.
“Then why does she think that?”
“I don’t know.” The tote board was gone, destroyed by my abundance of recent sins, so there was no way to keep track of them anymore. I hoped that didn’t mean I’d gone beyond the reach of salvation.
“Don’t friggin’ lie.” Dwight slammed his fists into the locker doors on both sides of my head.
“I said you might go on retreat, that’s all.”
“You said I asked if she was going.” He leaned closer, and I could see my reflection in the pupils of his bloodshot eyes. Was it from anger or stress? My doing either way, and they reminded me of what purgatory would be. “Didn’t you?”
Really Darcy said it but only because she was trying to help. I had no choice but to take her sin as my own. “Yeah,” I said and nodded too.
“Yeah?” Dwight uncorked a fist, but the punch never connected. His knuckles stopped so close to my nose, I could smell the hint of fragrance in the lotion on his hands. Dwight moisturized.
“If I knew, I wouldn’t have signed up.” His pale skin pinked up with his anger. “Now my parents already paid.”
“So get a refund.” Fred returned to changing. No punches were going to land so why watch.
“No.” Dwight backed off. “I already told them how great it was going to be with the hiking and stuff. They think it will be a good way to ‘acclimate’ at my new school.” Dwight shook his head to release some of the pent-up anger that tensed every muscle including the ones in his neck. “They won’t understand.”
“Karen’s going?” Bart engaged long enough to ask.
“Her and all her friends,” Dwight said as more of a sigh.
I didn’t want to look at Chad, but I couldn’t stop myself. His expression might’ve seemed stoic or scared to an untrained eye. I was his best friend, and the slight twitch of his lip and squinting of his eyes meant my spy had just gotten great intel. He would pass it on to Darcy as soon as he could. I hadn’t confided what happened with Sister Margo. As far as they were concerned, this was a best-case scenario. They wanted me on the retreat and now there was hope. Even better, they’d help make it happen. Maybe it was true friendship or part of their plan to see which of them could get in my pants. For the moment I chose the first reason and hoped I wouldn’t ever again have to consider the second.
“I’m sorry.” I was too but also afraid for my face. I wanted him to understand and for me to survive. “I just wanted to get as many people to sign up as I could.”
“What’s it to you?” The veins in his arms popped like he’d just done push-ups and his pecs flexed without him trying. This close and shirtless I could see why Karen liked him. Also, how easy it would be for someone that fit and pissed off to really make a mess out of me.
“Never mind,” was all I could think to say because I was too embarrassed to admit I was probably the poorest guy in our class.
Jack shut his locker. “She’s hot anyway, dude.” He stretched his furry arms and grunted like the little bigfoot he was.
“I decide who I like.” Dwight drove his pointed finger into the gap between my shoulder and chest. “And when to tell them.”
Brrrrrrrrrrr! The long, annoying blast of Coach’s whistle spun everyone back around to their own lockers like he’d given a cue.
“Fence run, boys!”
“It’s raining,” Chad said.
“Then we’ll go around twice.” Coach blew his whistle again and jogged over to his waiting scooter.
Dwight was going. Karen and her posse were too. Bart was into her, pretty obvious to see. He might even sign up now, and he thought I was full of shit. My plan worked. I just had to get there, and then NC3’s elite would see me at my best. I’d go up the mountain a skinny loser and come back the holy cool kid. He was providing, now I just had to be worthy.
CHAPTER TWENTY
THE RAIN faded into more of a mist and a lumpy quilt of dingy clouds smothered the sky. As I huffed over the gravel path, spring was still a dream.
“Sister Margo didn’t go for it.” Chad kept pace, and I noticed his shorts looked baggy. I wanted to ask about his diet, but that would’ve meant letting him know I looked at his body, and that I couldn’t do.
“How do you know?” How did he always know?
“What’s plan B?”
I didn’t want to admit I didn’t have one other than a firm belief JC would somehow provide. I just needed to stay on the path. The idea made me smile a little because I was actually on one when I thought it.
“Hey, Father Gregory!” Rusty waved from the edge of the low forest. “Jonah!”
“Oh, man.” Chad stopped just after I did. “That guy again.”
“Why do you care? You don’t even know him.” I didn’t either, not much anyway. After this morning I reassessed what I did.
“I don’t trust anybody not working or in school.” He made it sound like an omen. The same way geezers in slasher movies warned horny teenagers not to go to the cabin, rapids, caves, or ever-popular blood-soaked sleepaway camp. They always went anyway, did it, and died. Only the virgins survived. Did nuns write horror movies?
“Jonah, come on!” In his too-ripped jeans and shearling-collared coat, Rusty yelled and took a few daring steps onto the field. If I didn’t go to him, he was coming to me.
“Jonah, don’t.” I knew Chad was right. My feet, on the other hand, just wanted to get one step closer: just one and they’d be good. I imagined hearing the menacing tinkling of a pair of piano keys, the same notes repeated over and over, but my eyes needed to confirm what my brain told my heart. After the way Rusty had humiliated me that morning it should have been so easy. Coach Danetto rode his scooter too fast into the open garage door that led to the equipment room. It was his one attempt at being a badass. Dwight’s long legs gobbled the ground, and he was first to go back inside to the gym. Bart trailed with Fred and Jack at his side. None of the rest of my classmates either posed a threat or would care. They were all ahead of us now anyway.
“I’ll be right back.” Several keys played at once: atonal terror. In the movies, here was where the clueless horndog teen walked right into a scythe, axe, or chainsaw swung down across the frame. Blood flowed, victims screamed.
Chad said something else I didn’t hear because I was transfixed by a retreating, laughing Rusty as he led me deeper into the stand of still budless trees.
THE GEARS ground again, and I squeezed harder on the shifter of the sweet ride Rusty had gotten back only a few hours ago. He patted my hand. “It doesn’t respond to pressure.”
“I know how it feels.” The sun had burned off the fog, and the day turned clear if not warm. We had the top down anyway and ran the heater full blast.
“You’re doing fine. Just let out the clutch a little slower. Make sure you’re in gear.” The stretch of road we were on was probably not five
miles from my house, and still I didn’t know it. There was no line down the middle, and it cut right through the heart of state forest land the paper companies once logged. They, like my dad’s favorite job, were long gone. The trees had grown back in a dense, if not tall, forest of oaks, maples, birches, and pines.
I eased off the clutch. “You don’t have to do this.” This time the gears engaged, and we moved forward.
“I only do what I want, Jonah.”
“And I don’t, right?” I clutched, shifted, and made it into second. We turned back and forth on so many of these country roads I didn’t know if we were headed home or not. “Is that why you came to church and made fun of me this morning?”
“Jonah, are you mad at me?”
I shifted into third with ease and pressed the accelerator. The old logging road had lots of switchbacks as it worked its way up the mountain. Rusty’s angry mauler of a car had been conceived for a route like this. I really didn’t know yet what to do, but I wouldn’t crawl along and pussy out either.
“Slow down.”
“I’ll stall.”
“That’s what happens when you’re learning.” He started to tousle my hair. I ducked his grasp.
“You are mad.” Rusty backed off. He still had an amused smirk when he turned from me and looked out the window. When he faced me again, he had a totally different expression. “If you’re so pissed off, then why are you here?”
“I wanted to drive a stick. I might never get behind a wheel like this again. I’m poor, remember. A poor, pathetic, gay kid that believes in a lot of stuff you probably think of as fairy tales.” It was buried in the middle of a tirade, but I came out, at least to him. Rather than a free line, I felt kind of like an unhinged wave.
“You don’t know that.”
I sped up. “I know you acted like a real jerk this morning.” I made the engine growl on its way to a roar.
