This Side of Salvation

by Jeri Smith-Ready

  Dad goes still for a long moment. “Not since I visited here,” he says just above a whisper. “Not once.”

  I was right, then, when I’d sensed a change in him after his “fishing trips.” “Will you ever come home to stay?”

  “Yes.” His voice dips in tone and volume. “I already miss your mother terribly. Mara, too. I have a lot of work to do to earn their forgiveness, and yours.”

  My first thought is, Yes, you do. But then I remember what Mr. Ralph told me that day in his office, though I was only half paying attention: It’s not our ability to get forgiveness that saves us. It’s our ability to grant it.

  I don’t care as much about being saved as I used to. But I do care about getting on with my life, and I can’t manage that with this rage festering inside me, at everyone from God on down to my parents. I have to start somewhere.

  “I can’t speak for Mara and Mom, but I forgive you, Dad.”

  He lets out a hard breath, speaking my name at the end of it. I search inside myself, expecting to feel magically lighter now that I’ve said the words. Maybe that comes with time.

  The singers in the village switch to “Amazing Grace.” There seem to be more of them now, so they must have gathered together for strength and solace.

  Dad lowers his chin and closes his eyes. He might be praying or just thinking. It occurs to me that I barely know the man standing beside me. If he stays for good, I may never know him.

  Finally, he looks at me, across the outside of the house. In his shining eyes I relive the moment we shared before that blank computer screen, when John’s screams echoed in our minds.

  Sometimes that moment still feels like yesterday. But maybe here Dad can find a decent tomorrow.

  CHAPTER 40

  NOW

  Remember the guy who built the world’s largest ball of twine? Turns out, he didn’t do it on his own. After he died and was “surpassed,” as Bailey put it, the people in his Kansas town built a gazebo over the ball to protect it from the weather. They kept adding to it themselves, even creating an annual twine-wrapping holiday, celebrated every August. It is now once again the world’s biggest ball of twine. He gets the fame, but his name would be nothing without the efforts of those behind him.

  Baseball is kind of the same way. Everyone thinks the pitcher stands on the mound all alone. We get credit for the win and the blame for the loss. But each pitch isn’t chosen only by us. The catcher and the manager give the signals, and if there are runners on base, the infielders signal whether I should try to pick them off.

  Pitchers may stand ten inches higher than everyone else, but we’re not alone. Until we throw the ball. Then the universe of possibilities narrows down to one outcome that we have to acknowledge and learn from, then move on.

  Off the mound, moving on has never been my strong suit, but I’m trying. Mom got me signed up for individual therapy for the first time. It’s not fun—I am seriously considering buying stock in Kleenex—but I’d be a hypocrite if I refused after I pushed my father so hard down that path.

  It’s a path I still pray he takes, because no Rapture is coming to take him away, I’m sure of that now. I have a hunch the Second Coming is a metaphor for a better world that we can make here on earth. Or maybe instead of coming to fix the world, Jesus’ll pop by to celebrate with us when we’ve fixed it ourselves.

  Despite my questioning and wandering, I still have faith, and I still believe in seventy-times-seven second chances—for me, for Mom and Dad, for Sophia. Even for the man who killed my brother, a man who battled his own demons and lost.

  Lucky for me, Coach Kopecki believes in second chances too—with consequences, of course. He made me a relief pitcher, because it wouldn’t be fair to guys who’ve worked hard all season, like Brendan Rhees, if I waltzed back in and took their starting spots. At this point, I’m willing to be a batboy just to have a place on the team.

  This evening is the Middle Merion Tigers’ final regular-season game, and my first regular-season game with them. If we beat Lower Merion tonight, we go to the playoffs; if we lose, our season is over. It’d be partly my fault for going AWOL for forty days.

  But I can’t dwell on that now, because Brendan has loaded the bases with no outs in the top of the seventh and final inning. We’re leading by a single fragile run. The visiting Lower Merion fans are clapping and stomping, dying for a comeback rally.

  A rally I have to save us from. No—a rally I will save us from.

  Kopecki gives me the signal. I come out of the bullpen fast, almost banging my face into the chain-link gate that sticks a little when I push on it. As I jog to the mound, I hear what sound like scattered boos but are actually fans shouting, “Coooooooop.”

  I try not to smile at the sight of Bailey stretched out against the chain-link fence, arms spread above her, shouting my name. Her posture reminds me of Juno playing Cat Versus Wall. She’s flanked by the equally enthusiastic Mara and Jonathan-not-John. I mean, Jon, since that’s what he really goes by.

  Behind them on the front row of bleachers, my mother sits, with Mr. Ralph and Mrs. Mr. Ralph on one side, and Eve and Ezra Decker on the other. Eve was also on that first boat back to civilization, and just as I predicted, she never asked me for another kiss once she had other options. She seems better off without her parents, which I can totally relate to.

  Soon the Decker kids and Bailey will go with Mara, Mom, and me to visit Almost Heaven. Dad’s promised to come home for good by Thanksgiving. I’ll believe it when I see it.

  The FBI caught Sophia trying to board a plane for the Cayman Islands a few days ago. She’ll be charged with embezzlement and money laundering, but, as Dad feared, it could be months or longer before the funds she stole will find their way back into the hands of the Rushers.

  We’re doing okay here, moneywise. Since Mom and Dad paid off the mortgages and the cars last year (so as not to leave any debts behind), the three of us are starting to climb out of the budgetary abyss. Mara will go to Penn State after all, on her own dime and federal loans. I might even go to Middle Merion High come September, since public school is cheaper than homeschool or community-college courses. But I’d rather not give up my independence.

  Once on the mound, I’m allowed eight warm-up pitches. Through the first six and a half innings, Brendan and the pitchers for Lower Merion have owned this pile of dirt. They’ve worn divots the size of their shoes near the pitching rubber, and the landing spots hold the patterns of their cleats, not mine. Being a reliever means taking someone else’s space and making it your own, fast.

  I’m ready in no time. All those weeks throwing long tosses for Lucy the “Lab-Hound” have strengthened my arm, and I feel like I could go seven innings. For the team’s sake, of course, I hope I need to go only one.

  From up here, I can see the oak sapling growing near the football field. The young tree was planted last week by the senior class as part of this year’s traditional gift to the school. The tree was Bailey’s idea, but Stephen Rice, as the MMHS senior-class president, made it reality.

  In front of the tree sits a marble monument with a plaque listing the fallen heroes of Middle Merion High: alumni who died as service members, cops, firefighters, or EMTs. My brother, John, is the most recent name, and I hope it stays that way.

  “Play ball!” the umpire shouts. I take Miguel’s signal for a changeup, then glance briefly at Kane covering third base. He offers the subtlest of nods as his second opinion. They’re both right: With my fastball’s reputation, this pitch is what they’d be least expecting.

  Inside my glove, my thumb and pinkie meet, pulling the ball deep into my palm. The batter is a thickset guy who looks like he could send the ball to Atlantic City with one swing. He stares me down, wanting so badly to be a hero.

  “Not tonight,” I whisper.

  What the pitcher wants most is nothing. If I retire these batters, Brendan’ll get the win, and he’d deserve it. I’ll get a save. I like the sound of that.

  But
life isn’t baseball. Life is life. So off the field, I’m coaching myself to save only me. It’s odd not worrying about everyone else, letting their mistakes and triumphs be their own. The future is as far from perfect and as full of errors as this baseball game, but at this moment, it’s all mine.

  And I guess that’s something.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  The beliefs or lack thereof portrayed in this book belong to the characters, not me. Those who comb these pages for a religious or antireligious agenda will be left scratching their heads. It’s just about this boy, y’know?

  One belief I share with David and Bailey concerns the awesomeness of Arcade Fire. This novel would not be the same without their second album, Neon Bible. While Funeral depicts the innocence of childhood and The Suburbs deals with adulthood’s longing to return to that innocence, Neon Bible is about adolescence, when many of us first learn that the world can hurt us. Neon Bible and this novel both chronicle the struggle to retain hope in the face of this revelation.

  All Scripture quotes are taken from the World English Bible, the only translation currently in public domain across the planet.

  I cannot recommend enough H. A. Dorfman’s The Mental Guide to Baseball. This sports psychologist offers wisdom that can be applied to any occupation, especially writing. It taught me how to tune out distracting thoughts and focus on the next sentence, and the next, and the next. Read it, even if you hate baseball.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I journeyed more deeply into the Writing Cave with this book than any before, so first thanks go to my friends, family, and readers who waited patiently for me to emerge.

  Beta readers abounded! I would’ve been lost without feedback from Amy Oelkers, Cecilia Ready, Lindsay Ribar, Erin Schultz, Rob Staeger, Jennifer Strand, and Matt Youngbauer. Extra kudos to those who read multiple drafts: Karen Alderman, Stephanie Kuehnert, and Frankie Diane Mallis. Thanks to TSgt. Mark Garton, USAF (ret.), for help with Air Force matters. Any remaining errors are totally mine.

  I’ve never thanked a novel in a novel before, but after reading David Levithan’s Every Day, I jotted this in my journal: “Note to self: Write this book with all your heart. Write it to make people feel the way you felt after reading Every Day. Write it with beauty and compassion and empathy. Don’t hold back. Feel. Love.”

  To the amazing YA authors at our desert writing retreat who shared their wisdom or just listened to me angst over my new endeavor: Kelley Armstrong, Holly Black, Kimberly Derting, Nancy Holder, Sophie Jordan, Alma Katsu, Stephanie Kuehnert, Melissa Marr, Sarah Rees Brennan, Beth Revis, Carrie Ryan, and Rachel Vincent.

  To the Simon Pulse team for saying a hearty “Yes!” to something new and different: Bethany Buck, Mara Anastas, Katherine Devendorf, Anna McKean, Paul Crichton, Lucille Rettino, Carolyn Swerdloff, Stephanie Evans-Biggins, Jeannie Ng, and Kaitlin Severini.

  To my visionary agent, Ginger Clark, for replying to my text on May 20, 2011 (Harold Camping’s predicted Rapture date)—“Calling dibs on teen novel abt kid whose parents make him ditch his friends/gf & blow off homework to get ready for the Rapture, which never comes”—with “Ok! Call that dibs on Twitter, and it’s official.” It wasn’t, of course, until a few months later, which brings me to . . .

  Annette Pollert, who believed my crazy idea would work! I’m deeply grateful to her for giving me the kind of creative freedom and trust most authors only dream of.

  Always, always, always . . . biggest thanks to my husband, Christian Ready, for his love and patience; and for reminding me that every manuscript is always “the worst book ever,” until one day it isn’t.

  JERI SMITH-READY is the award-winning author of the Shade trilogy, the WVMP Radio series, and the Aspect of Crow trilogy. She lives in Maryland with her husband and two cats. Like many of her characters, Jeri loves music, movies, and staying up very, very late. Visit her at jerismithready.com or follow her on Twitter at @jsmithready.

  SIMON PULSE

  SIMON & SCHUSTER, NEW YORK

  Watch videos, get extras, and read exclusives at

  TEEN.SimonandSchuster.com

  authors.simonandschuster.com/Jeri-Smith-Ready

  Also by Jeri Smith-Ready

  Shade

  Shift

  Shine

  * * *

  Thank you for reading this eBook.

  Find out about free book giveaways, exclusive content, and amazing sweepstakes! Plus get updates on your favorite books, authors, and more when you join the Simon & Schuster Teen mailing list.

  CLICK HERE TO LEARN MORE

  or visit us online to sign up at

  eBookNews.SimonandSchuster.com/teen

  * * *

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  SIMON PULSE

  An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division

  1230 Avenue of the Americas, New York, NY 10020

  www.SimonandSchuster.com

  First Simon Pulse hardcover edition April 2014

  Text copyright © 2014 by Jeri Smith-Ready

  Jacket photograph copyright © 2014 by Thinkstock

  JACKET DESIGNED BY KARINA GRANDA

  JACKET PHOTOGRAPH COPYRIGHT © 2014 BY THINKSTOCK

  AUTHOR PHOTOGRAPH COPYRIGHT © 2014 BY GEOFFREY S. BAKER

  Book designed by Karina Granda

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  SIMON PULSE logo and colophon are registered trademarks of Simon & Schuster, Inc.

  The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event. For more information or to book an event contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com.

  The text of this book was set in Adobe Caslon Pro.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Smith-Ready, Jeri.

  This side of salvation / Jeri Smith-Ready. — First Simon Pulse hardcover edition.

  p. cm.

  Summary: After his older brother is killed, David turns to anger and his parents to religion, but just as David’s life is beginning to make sense again his parents press him and his sister to join them in cutting worldly ties to prepare for the Rush, when the faithful will be whisked off to heaven.

  [1. Grief—Fiction. 2. Family life—Pennsylvania—Fiction. 3. High schools—Fiction. 4. Schools—Fiction. 5. Missing persons—Fiction. 6. End of the world—Fiction. 7. Cults—Fiction. 8. Pennsylvania—Fiction.] I. Title.

  PZ7.S6634Thi 2014

  [Fic]—dc23

  2013019948

  ISBN 978-1-4424-3948-1

  ISBN 978-1-4424-3950-4 (eBook)