“Lexi, find a seat, please,” he says so calmly it’s almost menacing. “And Matthew, please join me up front.”
Matthew sits in the chair Mr. Martin has pulled out for him at the head of the classroom.
I automatically glance at Carolyn, forgetting in the moment that we’re not friends anymore. Her face is distressed. Yeah, whatever’s going on here, it’s not good.
Mr. Martin wastes no time getting to the point.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he says. “It’s no secret that over these past five weeks, Matthew has been lacking in his commitment to the work we do at New Horizons. Though he hasn’t taken to the reparative therapy process as quickly as we would have liked, we have nurtured his need to find his own way on this journey.”
That is such a lie! But the other counselors are nodding sympathetically.
“But his waywardness reached a new level today. Matthew has disgraced this camp, its teachings, and most of all, himself. We had hoped that, given enough time, Matthew would give himself over to the Lord Jesus Christ, but it’s now clear that the devil is more firmly rooted in him than we first thought.” He points to his bandage. “Matthew attacked me today.”
Gasps and cries of shock ripple through the room.
Mr. Martin looks sad. “I was just trying to give him some extra attention and help him get on track with the rest of you—who are all doing so wonderfully in your therapy, I might add—by giving him some one-on-one tutoring, when out of nowhere, he came at me with a weapon and sent me to the hospital.” He stops and looks Matthew in the eye. “Isn’t that right, Matthew?”
Matthew stares back at him, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows. I desperately want him to disagree, to stand up and tell everybody what really happened, but I know he won’t. He won’t for the exact same reason that I’m not jumping on top of my desk and shouting Liar!—we’re scared.
And for whatever reason, Mr. Martin hasn’t kicked Matthew out yet. We can’t risk doing anything that would change that.
“Isn’t that right?” Mr. Martin repeats.
Slowly, Matthew nods. “Yes,” he whispers.
A brief smile flickers across Mr. Martin’s face. It’s so quick that I doubt anyone else even notices it. But its meaning couldn’t be clearer: he knows he’s back in control.
“Yes, what?” he demands, sure of himself now.
“Yes, sir.”
Mr. Martin turns back to the group. “Even though I was assaulted unprovoked,” he says, “and had to receive eleven stitches in my forehead, I have decided not to press charges against Matthew or send him home early. After all, it’s not his fault that the devil lives so loudly inside of him.”
There are more sympathetic nods, mostly from the counselors.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about what to do to help Matthew get rid of that darkness inside him, and after what happened today, I’ve come to a conclusion.” He pauses and looks down at Matthew. “We are going to have an exorcism.”
Chapter 29
An exorcism? People actually do those?
The silence in the classroom breaks at last, and everyone starts talking at once. From what I can tell, the reactions are a mixture of confusion and actual excitement.
I lock my eyes on Matthew. He’s sitting as still as a statue, his face blank, his eyes glossed over. I think he’s in shock.
Mr. Martin gets everyone to quiet down before continuing. “We’ve only had one other exorcism in the history of New Horizons, but that young individual turned out wonderfully. I truly believe this is the best thing for Matthew at this point in time. It’s extreme, yes, but this is an extreme case.” He gestures to his head again, as if to remind us that he’s just an innocent victim. “We still have three weeks left of the summer, so there will be some time after the exorcism to all work as a team to help Matthew get up to speed with the progress the rest of you have made thus far. Of course, the sooner we expel his demons, the better, so Brianna has made arrangements for the healer to come tonight. I would like for you all to join me as witnesses to this important event in Matthew’s life.”
Tonight? My mind is racing all over the place. What happens at an exorcism? I saw that movie at a sleepover in middle school and some of those scenes are forever seared into my brain…but I’m pretty sure Matthew’s head isn’t going to do a full 360.
Mr. Martin squats down so he’s eye to eye with Matthew. He speaks softly, like he’s talking to a small child who’s sad that his best friend has moved away. “Matthew,” he says. “Do you willingly agree to this course of action?”
Matthew gives a huge, defeated sigh. “Yes,” he says, looking down at his lap.
Mr. Martin tries to clap him on the shoulder, but Matthew shrugs him off. “You’ve made the right decision.”
Mr. Martin dismisses us for our pre-exorcism dinner, but he pulls me aside.
“Thank you for helping me this afternoon, Lexi,” he says.
I hate him. I hate what a disgusting, rotten liar he is, and I hate what he did to Matthew in the office, and I hate what he’s doing to him now. I refuse to look him in his disgusting, rotten, liar eyes, so instead I stare up at the thick, white bandage. “No problem,” I mutter.
“The doctor said I was lucky you got there when you did.”
“Oh. Well, good.”
“When did you get there, anyway?” he asks.
My ears perk up at the practiced casualness of his voice. Does he suspect that I overheard what was going on in the office? He can’t know that I know. If he thinks his secret is out, he’ll take it out on Matthew for sure. I decide to play dumb. “Do you mean, like, what time?”
“No. What did you see?” He shakes his head and tries again. “I’m just wondering how long I was there before you found me. Did you see Matthew?”
I search his disgusting, rotten face. I wonder, if I didn’t already know what he was asking, would I catch on to something fishy now? Probably not. He’s a very good liar. I’m sure he’s fooled a lot of people with this holier-than-thou, soldier-of- God crap.
“No,” I say. “You were all alone when I got there. I have no idea how long you’d been lying there.”
“And did Matthew tell you anything about what happened? What made him attack me like that, out of nowhere?”
“No. He said he didn’t want to talk about it.”
Mr. Martin nods, satisfied. “Well, in any event, thank you again.”
“Sure,” I say and hurry away to the dining cabin.
Matthew is sitting alone at our table, his forehead resting on the tabletop and his arms covering his head. Carolyn and Daniel are in line for food.
I sit down and bring my face close to his. “You don’t have to do this, you know,” I whisper.
He looks up slowly, his face all red and lined from the table markings. “You know I don’t have a choice.”
“Well…” I try to think of some way out. “What about Justin? Can he move off campus or something and then you can move in with him?”
Matthew shakes his head. “He’s on a full scholarship, covers his dorm expenses.”
“And there are really no other friends you can stay with?”
“For a whole year, until I can go off to college? Even if someone offered to take me in, I wouldn’t want to be a burden on anyone for that long.”
I guess he’s right—he’s pretty stuck. It’s either go through with the exorcism (God, even just the word sounds creepy) or leave the camp early with no home to go back to. “Well, it will be fine,” I say, though it sounds like I’m trying to convince myself more than anyone. “You’ll let the healer, or whatever they call him, bless you and pray for you and excise your demons or whatever and then move on. It can’t be that bad.”
“Famous last words,” he says.
***
Dinner goes by way too quickly. As the
overcooked meatloaf, biscuits, and apple juice gradually vanish from our plates and cups, the mood in the room shifts from jittery excitement to acute somberness. I guess everyone’s dealing with the suspense of what’s about to happen in their own way.
After dinner, Arthur and John take Matthew away to go “get ready” for the exorcism, while Mr. Martin leads the rest of us in prayer.
“Dear Lord, we ask that you shine your love on our friend Matthew today. He is standing on the brink of salvation, and he needs your help now more than ever to cross that finish line. Please, Lord, wrap Matthew in your loving arms and carry him away from the darkness. Amen.”
“Amen,” the room echoes.
Mr. Martin has everyone right where he wants them, but for the first time, it occurs to me that maybe his belief in God is a lie too. He knows better than anyone that Matthew isn’t evil—he knows exactly why he was attacked. Which means his prayer for Matthew was for show, just like everything else he says.
As we make our way to the carpet cabin, a faint whisper brushes my ear. “What happened?”
I spin around to find myself dangerously close to Carolyn. Her face is just inches from mine. “What?”
“I know something weird is going on,” she whispers. “And I know you know what it is.”
It hurts to look at her. I turn around and keep moving. “Nothing is going on.” I can’t tell her the truth—the more people who know, the more dangerous it is for Matthew. And she wouldn’t want to hear it anyway—not with how much she loves Mr. Martin and New Horizons.
“Matthew wouldn’t just attack Mr. Martin for no reason,” she insists.
“Carolyn, please,” I snap, thrusting a hand through my hair in irritation. “Stop. It’s nothing. Just…leave me alone.”
I catch a fleeting glimpse of her face before she walks away—she’s stunned and hurt. Serves her right.
The exorcism guy is waiting in the carpet cabin. He’s wearing all black and a clerical collar and is younger than I expected—maybe thirty or so. He’s a large man. Not fat, but tall—well over six feet—with muscles bulging under his shirtsleeves.
Matthew’s there already too. He’s standing alone at the back of the room, dressed in a shirt and dress pants and tie. I wonder where he got them from—they’re obviously not his. They’re unflattering and bland, and he keeps tugging at his collar like it’s too tight.
Daniel, Carolyn, and I go over to him.
“You’re going to do great,” Daniel tells him. “God is good.”
Carolyn just gives him a hug and a reassuring smile.
Once the two of them are gone, I grab Matthew’s shoulders and look him square in the eye. “Listen to me,” I say. “You’re going to be fine. Whatever happens, it can’t be worse than the Father Wound sessions, right?”
He nods.
“All you have to do is get through it. Then you’ll be able to stay for the rest of the summer and you’ll go home to your family and everything that happened here will be in the past.” I hope he was right about his father being satisfied with his just completing the program, regardless of whether it worked or not, and letting him stay at home.
He nods again.
“I’m here for you. And so are Carolyn and Daniel. You’re not alone.”
“Thanks, Lexi.”
I give him a quick hug, and then he goes up to the open stage area of the room.
The exorcism guy introduces himself to us all as Brother Wilson. “Thank you for being here,” he says.
Like we had a choice.
“Through prayer and the power of Jesus Christ, together we will heal this young man.”
And then he gets down to business. He exchanges a few words with Mr. Martin that are too low for me to hear then turns his attention to Matthew, who is standing awkwardly.
“Have you truly given your life to Jesus Christ, Matthew?” Brother Wilson asks.
Matthew stares up at him. He shrugs.
“I need an answer,” Brother Wilson says.
Matthew stays silent. He looks as if he’s deciding whether to tell the truth or just say what Mr. Martin wants him to say. Just cooperate, I think at him.
Finally, he says, “I’m not an atheist or anything…”
“Yes or no, Matthew.”
“No, sir.”
I hold my breath. Please.
“Would you like to?”
“Yes, sir.”
I exhale. Thank you.
“What is the nature of your possession, Matthew? What are you seeking freedom from?”
“Um…”
“It’s okay,” Brother Wilson says. “We are here to help you, not judge you.”
“I, uh…I’m seeking freedom from…being gay, I guess.” He cringes, like every word is causing him pain.
Brother Wilson nods. “The homosexual demon. When was the first time you noticed the existence of this demon inside you?”
“When I was young.”
“Do you know how the demon got inside of you?” Brother Wilson asks.
Matthew shrugs again.
“Actually,” Mr. Martin interjects proudly, “we have done quite a bit of work on this very matter.” And he explains about Matthew’s Father Wound and his growing up in the theater environment.
Matthew just stares at his feet, listening to the disgusting, rotten liar talk about him like he isn’t standing right there.
“Before we go further,” Brother Wilson says when Mr. Martin is done speaking, “you must close that doorway forever. There is no use expelling the demon from your soul if he will just be able to return as soon as we’re done. Do you promise to keep that doorway firmly sealed, Matthew? Do you renounce your life in the artistic world?”
Lie, Matthew. Lie with everything you have!
Matthew nods. “I do.”
“Very good. Now, Matthew, are you personally aware of any false religions in your family?”
Matthew looks up. “False religions?”
“Witchcraft, Satanism, Universalism, Islam?”
“No.”
“Good. Are you a faithful Christian, Matthew?”
“Um. Yes.”
But Mr. Martin clears his throat to get the healer’s attention and then shakes his head slightly.
“I see,” Brother Wilson says and purses his lips. He turns to the rest of us, sitting quietly in our neat little rows, like perfectly programmed schoolchildren. “I need your help, my friends. While I prepare Matthew for the acceptance of Jesus Christ into his life, I need you all to pray and bind the demon. Please, begin now.”
I look around the room—Daniel and several other campers, plus all the counselors, bow their heads and start praying, some at full volume, some fiercely whispering to themselves, some just moving their lips.
I glance at Carolyn and find that she’s already looking at me. She’s only two seats down from me, but the prayer-infused environment prevents us from speaking even a single word. So she just raises her eyebrows questioningly, as if to ask Why the hell is Matthew going along with all of this? I just shake my head. There’s no way to explain now, even if I wanted to.
While everyone prays, Brother Wilson asks Matthew to call upon Jesus for salvation.
“Um,” Matthew says, confused and miserable. “Jesus? Save me. Please.”
“May I place my hands on you, Matthew?”
Matthew nods. Brother Wilson looks to Mr. Martin for permission, and he nods as well. Brother Wilson rests one hand on Matthew’s forehead and one on the back of his head. “Jesus will save you, young Matthew! Jesus will set you free! I anoint you in the name of Jesus Christ!” he proclaims.
Hands still on Matthew’s head, he turns to us again. “Louder!” he orders. “Pray louder! Now is the time to cast this homosexual demon out once and for all!”
The prayers g
row from whispers to shouts. The muddled sound of overlapping words surrounds me, combining to form a sort of dissonant, chaotic symphony. The room is loud and vibrating with passion and tension and uninhibited faith.
“Keep going! More! He needs more!”
Even though there are a few of us, me and Carolyn included, who don’t participate, most people are feeding into the whole scene, wailing and raising their hands to the air and stomping their feet and shouting out.
An English class lesson on Julius Caesar flashes back to me—my teacher was trying to explain the concept of a “mob mentality,” and I never really understood it. I got the logistics, of Brutus joining the conspirators and killing Caesar because he got so wrapped up in the excitement of the moment, but I never understood how someone could truly get to the point of doing something that they wouldn’t normally do just because the group was doing it. But now I think I get it.
The cabin is filled with a noise so loud I have to cover my ears. The floor is pulsing, and the air is buzzing with energy.
I mean, yes, most of these campers are religious anyway. This is a church camp. And yes, we’ve all become accustomed over these last five weeks to doing whatever the counselors tell us to do without question. Even I still do that. Even Matthew is doing that right now.
But still. For these usually mild-mannered kids to suddenly transform into a bunch of howling, beseeching demon-casters who are actually taking the task of binding Matthew’s “homosexual demon” (something that, theoretically speaking, we all have) seriously…well, it all makes better sense now, the “power of the mob” thing. And it sucks.
While the praying grows stronger and louder still, Brother Wilson dives into the meat of the exorcism. “You, homosexual demon, come out in Jesus’s name!” he shouts, still gripping onto Matthew’s head. Matthew stands there, eyes squeezed shut, arms straight down at his sides, his hands pulled into tight fists. His chest heaves unevenly, his breathing ragged. I know he’s saying a prayer of his own right now—for this all to be over soon. “Homosexual spirit,” Brother Wilson continues over the cacophony, “I command you to vacate this young man’s body!”
The Summer I Wasn't Me Page 20
