“Should I call Noah?” I said.
“Noah Poulson?”
“Yeah.”
“Hell yeah. Shit, he might write this sermon for us!”
I called.
The dial tone lasted for a small infinity. And then it clicked over to the answering machine:
MR. POULSON: Well howdy there! This is Pastor Poulson!
MRS. POULSON: And this is Pam!
ESTHER: And this is Esther!
NOAH: (grumbling): Noah…
MR. POULSON: We can’t come to the phone right now because we’re busy spreading the good Word of God. Have you accepted Him into your heart? Leave your name, number, and a spiritual message if you feel so inclined, and we’ll get back to you as soon as we—!
There was click on the other end as the phone was lifted off the receiver.
“Hello?” said a voice that was distinctly Noah’s.
“Hey, just the guy I wanted to talk to!”
“Cliff?”
“That’s my name; don’t wear it out.”
Jesus Harold Christ, did I actually just say that?
“So…Aaron and I are participating in a Sermon Showdown against your evil sister.”
“Yeah, I heard about that,” said Noah. He laughed uneasily. “Listen, I know you have good intentions and all, but…are you guys insane? She’s going to eat you alive.”
“My thoughts exactly. Which leads me to why I’m calling. We want your help pulling this sermon together.”
Noah laughed. He kept laughing until he realized that it wasn’t a joke.
“You’re serious?” he said.
“Deadly serious.”
“I’m flattered. Really. But hell no.”
“Why not?”
“Mostly because I prefer not being crucified upside down by my sister and her cult.”
“And sitting on the sidelines is going to put her in her place?”
“It has nothing to do with that. It has to do with provoking the one person who can make my life a living hell. You know, aside from my parents.”
“Do you believe in God?”
Yes, I actually said that.
“What does that have to do with anything?” said Noah rather defensively.
“If you believe in God,” I said, “which I know you do, then you have to believe that he gives a shit that your sister is a psychopath bullying in his name. The question is: Are you willing to do something about it?”
Noah was silent on the other end. Aaron was in the middle of a conversation with someone else on his phone, but his words were a blur. All I could hear was Noah’s silence.
“Are you willing to do something about it?” I said.
“Why are you doing this?” said Noah.
“Because my brother is dead. And I have to believe there’s someone up there who gives a shit.”
I waited for him to say something until finally—tentatively—I said, “Noah?”
“I’m in,” he said.
“Oh. Okay.”
I was playing it cool on the outside, but I could feel something big inside of me, steadily growing bigger—this enormity that filled every empty spot inside of me, overflowing.
I gave Noah the when and where—Aaron’s house, ASAP—and hung up. When I finally turned my big, stupid grin to Aaron, I noticed he had set his phone down to graze through the HVHS directory for names.
My gaze stayed on Aaron’s phone far longer than it should have.
There comes a time when one’s self-confidence and purpose are so on point, the feeling of unstoppable-ness that usually follows ends up spiraling wildly out of control. That’s probably the best way to explain why I did what I did next.
“Hey,” I said. “Did you hear that?”
Aaron glanced up. “Hear what?”
“Your mom?” I said. “I think she was calling for you.”
“Huh.” Aaron stood up and exited the room. I heard his voice grow distant down the hallway. “Mom? Mo-om!”
I grabbed Aaron’s phone, fumbled through the contacts, and found Lacey’s name. I texted:
Hey, lacey, it’s cliff. Stole aaron’s phone. We’re getting people together to plan the sermon showdown at his house. I think you two need to talk.
“Cliff?” said Aaron’s voice, down the hall.
Shit. I texted:
Don’t reply. Just come.
I hit the Home button, turned the screen off, and set the phone where Aaron left it. I immediately scanned the room for some convenient distraction. Silly me. Every square inch of his walls was a distraction!
“Cliff!” said Aaron, entering the room. “My mom’s not even home. Her car’s gone.”
Aaron caught me staring a little too intently at the nearest swimsuit model. Maybe I was trying a little too hard because my face was like six inches from the wall, level with her breasts.
“Well, then,” said Aaron. “Should I give you three a moment?”
“Sorry,” I said, feigning embarrassment. “Boobs. You know.”
Our committee trickled in like the steady drip of a faucet. First Tegan, then Jack and Julian, then Noah. We congregated in the Zimmermans’ living space like patients in the waiting room of a scientific study. Expectations were, more or less, incomprehensible.
“So…what are we doing here again?” said Jack.
“We’re assembling a committee to discuss the Sermon Showdown,” said Aaron.
“Ah. Right. That’s what it sounded like over the phone.”
“You could say,” said Julian, “that you’re assembling a team to combat the forces of evil.”
“What?” said Aaron.
“Like the Avengers.”
I appreciated Julian’s enthusiasm.
“Evil is a strong word,” said Noah. “The JTs are more like a tumor—destructive, but morally disconnected.”
“Like Galactus,” said Julian.
“Uh…” said Noah.
“Dude,” said Tegan. “If we’re the Avengers, I totally got dibs on Batman.”
“Wrong universe,” said Jack. “What you want is the Justice League.”
“Um, he’s Batman. Pretty sure he can be in whatever the hell universe he damn well pleases.”
“No, Jack’s right,” said Julian. “What you’re suggesting is interdimensional travel, which is highly improbable. If anyone could do that, maybe Doctor Strange could—but even that’s questionable.”
“Your mouth is moving, but all I hear is ‘Wah-wah-wah, I wish I was Batman.’” Tegan opened and closed her right hand like a talking duck to help illustrate.
“Cliff,” said Julian. “Can you please explain to Tegan that Marvel and DC are nonintersecting universes?”
“I refuse to participate in this conversation,” I said.
“Who else are we waiting for?” said Noah.
“Niko!” Aaron exclaimed, all too eager to change the subject. “We are waiting for Niko. But maybe we can go ahead and get started if he isn’t—”
Knock, knock, knock.
Everyone in the room appeared visibly relieved—everyone except for me. Because I knew about one more guest whom Aaron was completely unaware of.
“I’ll get it!” I said, leaping up from my seat, probably a little too anxious. I left the living room and veered into the entryway, which—thank God—was out of the living room’s line of sight. If it was Lacey, I figured I should take any sort of control over the situation I could get.
I opened the door. It was Niko. And his face actually didn’t look like an asymmetrical abomination, which was the highest praise I could give, all things considered.
I don’t think anyone had ever been so relieved to see Niko.
“Hey,” he said. “I’m here for the…Sermon Shootout…thing?”
I simply nodded and directed Niko into the living room.
Aaron was sitting in the recliner, and Jack and Julian were on the love seat whispering indiscernibly to each other, although I was pretty positive I heard the word la
rping. Which left the sofa for Niko, Noah, Tegan, and me. Noah decided to take his chances with the larping and moved to the love seat. Tegan scooted all the way over to make room for the combined circumference of my and Niko’s butts.
“All right,” said Aaron, clapping his hands together. “As you all are well aware, Cliff and I are participating in a Sermon Showdown against Esther Poulson.”
“Which is suicide,” said Noah.
“Which is, in fact, suicide,” Aaron agreed. “Which is why all of you are here. Now, contrary to popular belief, Cliff and I are not very good at public speaking.”
“Is that a popular belief?” said Julian.
“He’s being sarcastic,” Jack whispered.
“Not to mention,” said Aaron, “we have no clue what we’re going to say. That’s where you guys come in. We need help. Aaaaand that’s all I’ve got. You got anything you wanna add to that, Cliff?”
“Help us,” I said. “Please.”
“Question,” said Julian, raising his hand high. “I have a question.”
“Yes, Julian?” said Aaron.
“What is a Sermon Showdown?”
Everyone else nodded their agreement/confusion. Even Noah.
“A fair question,” said Aaron. “I think the general idea is that we give a sermon, and Esther gives a sermon, and whoever gives the better sermon wins.”
“Who determines which is the better sermon?” said Jack.
“Um…” said Aaron.
He looked at me. I shrugged.
“You don’t know?” said Jack.
“I mean,” I said, finally, “when Esther proposed the idea, I think it was to deliver the Sermon Showdown to her congregation. Which, I guess, would make them the judges?”
There was a long silence in the room. It was only amplified when Tegan whistled like a bomb was dropping.
“Well, when you say it like that, it makes us sound like dipshits,” said Aaron.
I doubted anyone would argue that we weren’t dipshits.
“Okay, here’s what needs to happen,” said Noah. “You need to clarify the rules with Esther. Tell her that the winning sermon is determined by the audience. And the audience is everyone in attendance at the Sermon Showdown.”
“Everyone in attendance?” I said. “Won’t that just be the JTs?”
“What? No. Of course not.”
Aaron and I exchanged confused looks. Everyone else just seemed confused by our confusion.
“Oh, come on,” said Tegan. “I already told you everyone’s talking about you and your crazy-ass List. So of course everyone’s talking about the Sermon Showdown, too.”
“Define ‘everyone,’” said Aaron.
“Okay,” said Jack. “Let’s pretend that there’s a circle that represents the student population of HVHS. Now let’s cut a slice of that circle, color it pink, and say that that pink slice is the percentage of HVHS that isn’t talking about the Sermon Showdown.”
“Okay,” said Aaron, nodding.
“There is no pink slice.”
“Ah.”
“Talk to Esther,” said Noah. “Clarify who determines the winner of the Sermon Showdown. It’s so public at this point, if Esther tries to throw a stink, it’ll only make her look bad. She has to agree.”
There was a knock at the door—putting our planning session to a grating halt.
“Who’s that?” said Aaron. He glanced at me. “This is everyone we invited, right?”
“Uh…yeah,” I said.
Unfortunately, I wasn’t wearing my lying face.
Aaron’s eyes narrowed to a squint. “You’re saying yeah, but it sounds like a no.”
Forget that someone just knocked at the door. Everyone turned to study my face like some progressive art piece at the local gallery.
“Oh yeah,” said Tegan. “He’s lying. I know. He’s my boyfriend.”
“Tegan!” I said.
“What, it’s true. You’re blushing hard-core.”
“Am not!”
“Bruh,” said Niko. “I could cook a Hot Pocket on your face, you’re blushing so hard.”
“Cliff,” said Aaron. His tone was a channel of controlled suspicion. “Who did you invite?”
The knocking continued. The jig was up.
I sighed. “Look at your recent sent texts.”
“My recent…sent…?” Aaron’s eyes expanded. “You didn’t.”
He pulled his phone out of his pocket—tap, scroll, tap, scroll—and then—
“You did,” said Aaron.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Sorry doesn’t unsend the text, Cliff.”
“I know, I know. But I’m sorry anyway. I only did it for your well-being.”
Aaron exhaled like he was breathing out sandpaper. “You know what? It’s fine. I told you the story, I asked for it. Don’t worry about it.”
“Should we just not answer the door?” I asked.
“No, we’ll answer it. We’ll invite her in, and we’ll move forward with the meeting, as planned. And we will not bring up anything else. If she asks, the Sermon Showdown is the only reason you invited her. Is that clear, Cliff?”
“See-through,” I mumbled.
I didn’t notice anyone had left the room until Julian was already walking back. “Jeez, you’d think you guys were talking about Emperor Palpatine or a communist or something. It’s just Lacey.”
All around the room, everyone groaned and rolled their eyes.
Aaron, meanwhile, looked like he’d just had the wind sucked out of him. “Did you open the door?”
“What?” said Julian. “Nah, I just looked through the peephole. C’mon, this isn’t my house.”
“Oh,” said Aaron, visibly relieved. “Well. Can you open the door?”
“Sure thing, El Capitan.” Julian disappeared into the entryway once more.
Aaron looked at me and raised a warning finger. “Not one word.”
I nodded, lips ziplocked.
The door opened, awkward greetings were exchanged in the entryway, and Julian and Lacey entered the living room.
“Hey!” said Aaron, jumping up from the recliner, a little too amped. “You got Cliff’s text. Perfect. Glad you could make it, Lace. Here, take a seat.”
He gestured elaborately to the recliner like it was some cleverly disguised trap.
“Oh,” said Lacey. She seemed standoffish—understandably so. “Okay.”
As she started for the recliner, she shot me a questioning look. I deflected it with a sudden, unbreakable fascination with the carpet.
Lacey sat down and pursed her lips, resigning herself to her current fate.
“All right, all right, all right,” said Aaron, clapping his hands together. My God, he was turning into Matthew McConaughey. “Lacey, we were just discussing a plan for this Sermon Showdown we’re having against Esther. I’m sure you’re well aware of it?”
“Yep-p-p,” said Lacey, popping her lips on the p. There was zero amusement in her ice-cold stare.
“Good. So, we already addressed one issue: the judging of the Sermon Showdown. Are there any other issues we need to take into account?”
Lacey raised her hand. “The possibility that you have a concussion from the boat accident?”
Oh boy. Shit had just hit the proverbial fan.
Aaron’s smile—without moving a millimeter—hardened into something irritated and slightly crazed.
“Well,” he said, choosing his words carefully, “I don’t think the doctors would have released me from the hospital if they thought I had one. But I appreciate your concern. Now—”
“But do they know you think you saw God?” said Lacey, cutting him off. “Because that’s insane.”
I shoved my hands under my ass and grabbed the couch cushion. Everyone else in the room was like a gawking bystander, mesmerized in the wake of a horrific collision. Only it was happening in slow motion so you could appreciate every detail. The soft implosion of metal, the spray of glass, smoke p
luming into the sky, filling it with gray.
Aaron stood silent for a long moment, but his body language had plenty to say—back rigid, muscles taut, jaw threatening to crush his teeth into his gums.
“I think you should go,” said Aaron.
“Really?” said Lacey. She stood up from the recliner, but she was far from going anywhere. “Because I think I should stay. I think we need to have an intervention.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Lacey—”
“No, Aaron. For your sake—not God’s. God is the problem, because you didn’t see him, because he isn’t real!”
“Is that what this is about? You want to have a pissing contest over the existence of God?”
“No. I want you to go to a doctor, because you hit your head on a boat, you were in a coma for three days, and now you think you’re Jesus Christ.”
“You don’t know anything!” said Aaron, throwing his hands in the air. “I’m doing something important. What are you doing with your life? God, you’re so fucking oblivious to the world, I don’t even know how you survive.”
Okay. In the short amount of time that I’d known Aaron and his unfortunate history with Lacey, I would go on record saying this:
That was the dumbest thing he ever said.
Something snapped inside of Lacey. Something big. Something furious. I saw it in the way her fists curled and trembled. In the way her glossy upper lip tweaked and her left eye twitched beneath her mascara.
“I’m oblivious, huh?” said Lacey.
“You done messed up, A-Aaron,” said Tegan.
Only Tegan would quote Key and Peele at a time like this.
“So I guess I wouldn’t know anything about you cheating on me,” said Lacey. “And definitely not with my best friend. And especially not at my birthday party.”
I had to say, Aaron walked into that one. And unfortunately, he deserved every bit of the shitstorm headed his way.
“Oh,” said Lacey, touching her lips. “Did you not know that I knew that? That’s surprising. I mean, I did walk into the room while you were fucking her!”
Aaron’s defense had all but crumbled. His mouth floundered, and his wide eyes seeped with regret.
Neanderthal Opens the Door to the Universe Page 15
