Bridgette hesitates, but Silas leans forward and anchors his elbows on the table. “It is code, but not in that way. It’s how we look out for each other when we’re out in the world. If we see someone who is dressed immodestly, or engaging in immoral behavior of some kind, we say ‘Rocks’ so our siblings know to avert their eyes. It’s more polite than yelling to look away.”
“You have to be careful about what you let your eyes see,” Bridgette adds. The table has gone quiet and the siblings have taken center stage. “What you see can turn to thoughts and thoughts can turn to actions. When you look twice, that’s where you get in trouble, I think. I’d just…rather not stare at half-naked men until that man is my husband.”
I take this opportunity to look at the people around us. Those walking the streets, enjoying their Friday afternoon—that guy running without his shirt on—all blissfully unaware that they might be causing dirty thoughts in the minds of the disciples of Jesus.
Admittedly, there is a lot of indecency. I’ve never been one to show a ton of skin, but it’s never really mattered to me what other people wore. Sitting on this sidewalk, it suddenly feels like a skin-fest—the warm weather an excuse for some women to wear little more than they might wear in the bedroom. I quickly put my “regular world” eyes back on and pretend like it doesn’t matter.
“I like that you guys do that,” I finally say, returning to my coffee.
“Really?” Bridgette looks at me with wide eyes. I swear she always looks like a four-year-old on Christmas morning.
I nod. “Yeah, I do. I think it’s great that you look out for each other.” All eyes at the table are on me, but no one is saying anything. “What?!” I exclaim. “Look. Yes, I’m from Connecticut and I’m Episcopalian and I was baptized as a baby and haven’t been since, but…” I sigh and run a hand through my hair, leaning back. “But that doesn’t mean I disagree with everything you guys do. I don’t know if you’re all judging me or whatever, but I want to say that I’m sorry for judging you guys. That’s all I’ve done since I walked on campus, honestly. And I’m sorry.”
Eden slides her arm across my shoulders and pulls me close to her in a side hug. “I’m sorry, too,” she says as she rests her head on mine.
“Yeah. Me, too,” Bridgette and Silas answer together, causing a chuckle to ripple through our table.
Brent and Joy are noticeably silent. Brent I can excuse, given we met about a second ago. Joy…well, I’m not surprised. I think she wants to keep judging me. Which is fine, because I want to keep judging her. I’ll pray about it, I guess, since that’s what we’re supposed to do, but I just don’t like her.
Noting Jonah’s silence, I sneak a glance his way and see him looking at me with that endearing half grin. He nods, seemingly in approval of my judgment confession, but says nothing. It looks like he wants to say more than has been offered by our friends, but his mouth won’t open more than his grin. To be frank, I feel some sort of connection with Jonah. I don’t know if it’s romantic, or friendly, or just a general kinship. Exploration of my feelings around him seems unlikely given the rare circumstances men and women are allowed to be alone together during their time at CU.
Before I can give this more thought, Eden speaks up. “Oh! Hey, look. It’s Pastor Roland!”
Naturally.
I don’t hesitate with my game face. It was practiced before I’d even met him in the first place, so putting it on is no more challenging than putting on socks. Just one foot, then the other. I crane my neck a bit to see the sidewalk and, sure enough, down strolls Pastor Roland, looking unremarkably similar to how he appeared on stage on Sunday. Jeans, short-sleeved shirt, Converse sneakers. He earns an A in image branding, if you ask me. Completely approachable one hundred percent of the time.
He spots me when he’s a few paces from the table, and I note the rise and fall of his shoulders in a deep breath. The smile widens and he stops and rests his hands on the wrought-iron fencing that delegates the outside seating area of Word.
“Hi, Pastor Roland,” Eden greets brightly. She stands to shake his hand, and the rest of our tablemates follow.
I’m one of those tablemates, and I do the same. He greets everyone, mostly by name, which I count as impressive given we’ve only been in school a week, then he gets to me.
“Kennedy, right?” he play-acts.
“Mmm hmm.” I nod and produce a tight smile. “Good to see you again.”
“You, too.” His eyes look so pitiful, I have to look down and return to my seat. They’re creasing at the edges—seeming to simultaneously smile and cry. I wasn’t counting on seeing him again until Sunday. So close.
“Enjoying this gorgeous day, I see,” he continues when we’ve all returned to our seats. “I’m glad to see it. Make sure you don’t get stuck on campus for too many days at once. There are lots of service opportunities in the community.”
“What do you recommend?” Joy asks in a purely business tone.
Roland rattles off the names of shelters, soup kitchens, and opportunities involving young children in the community. Joy actually takes out a notebook and writes down names and information. My chest aches a bit as I listen to the passion in Roland’s voice. He seems to know a great deal about each organization he discusses, from Mercy House Homeless Shelter to an afterschool program for underprivileged kids. He has such a good heart.
And I didn’t get any of it.
“Some of those places have employment opportunities, too,” Roland says, wrapping up. “There are very few off-campus jobs available—especially for freshmen—so check them out before they’re all gobbled up.”
Gobbled up? We’re not first graders.
Despite his corny turn of phrase, this perks my interest. “There are still off campus jobs available?” Obviously, this section isn’t highlighted in our student handbook.
Roland’s eyes connect with mine and he nods. “Even this place.” He tilts his chin behind me.
“The coffee shop?!” My voice rises to pre-shriek and I practically jump to my feet. One part of the handbook I managed to pay attention to regarding off-campus work pointed out that there were off-campus jobs available, but they had to be approved by the university. Obviously, it hadn’t occurred to me that Word would be one of those places. You know, with all the half-naked patrons and all.
He nods, his full-wattage smile—complete with dimple—nearly blinding me. “Just this one, though. I think a couple of retail stores and a bookstore…”
I don’t listen to the rest of his list. Ignoring my manners and failing to excuse myself from the table, I race inside and weave my way back to the counter.
“Can I help you?” the pixie-haired barista with electric blue eyeshadow nearly sings at me. She’s clearly met her caffeine intake quota for the day.
“Hi. I’m Kennedy Sawyer and I’m a student at Carter. I hear you’ve got jobs for us.” I’m speaking so quickly that my words are spilling around each other, barely coming together in time to make me sound coherent.
I’ve never wanted to work at a coffee shop more than I do at this exact moment. As enticing as it sounds to work as a receptionist in the New Testament library on campus, I just…can’t.
The barista, whose name is Chelsea, as evidenced by her name badge, which is pinned on her apron—and is draped over gigantic breasts, I might add—breaks into laughter. Which, of course, jiggles her name.
Chelsea, Chelsea, Chelsea bounces in my vision and I throw up a quick, completely selfish prayer that she doesn’t send me on my less-than-merry way.
“Man,” she composes herself, “if I had the power, I’d hire you right now. You need to come back tomorrow and meet with Asher. He’s the owner and does all the hiring.”
My shoulders sink, feeling slightly deflated and cornered. What if someone else gets to this Asher guy before I do? “Can I, like, leave my name and number? I really want this job.”
Chelsea extends her hand across the counter and grips my wrist, an animated lo
ok still on her face. “Breathe. Come back tomorrow afternoon. Two o’clock. I’ll tell him you’re coming. Kennedy Sawyer, you said?”
I nod like a maniac and breathe my first real breath since arriving at the counter.
“Okay, Kennedy Sawyer,” Chelsea repeats with a wink. “See you tomorrow.”
Relief floods me and I thank her several times. I pray harder as I turn back toward my party, begging God for this much-needed space away from campus and its inhabitants each week to help keep me level. To help keep me from going off the deep end.
God’s sense of humor has frequently mirrored mine, and it couldn’t be more evident than in this moment, when I walk right into Pastor Roland and spill half his iced coffee all over him for good measure.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Hero
“Oh, God, I’m so sorry!” I’ve lost any sense of composure I once had, groping for napkins on the corner of the counter and awkwardly blotting Roland’s shoulder and arm.
He chuckles, placing his hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay, Kennedy. Take a deep breath.”
“You’re the second person to tell me that in, like, thirty seconds,” I mumble, surrendering the napkins to him.
He cleans himself off the best he can and discards the caffeinated napkins.
“Thanks for the heads up about the job,” I say, hitching my thumb behind my shoulder to the counter. “You did that on purpose,” I assert, hoping my reading of him is getting more fluent.
Roland nods. “I figured you’d appreciate it.” He reaches past me and I see Chelsea has remade his coffee. She winks at me again and I throw her a thumbs up before returning my attention to Roland. He’s taking his sip at a safe two paces back.
“Why are you being nice to me? I was such a—jerk. I was a jerk to you.” I shift on my feet, silently cursing that I’m constantly nervous around him.
He shrugs, tilting his head to the side. “I was one to you, too.”
My eyes shoot up. His admission of being anything but perfect shocks me. “Yeah?”
He grins sympathetically. “Yeah. I pushed too far too soon. I’m just really excited that you’re here, Kennedy.” He takes one step closer and places his hand on my shoulder again, leaving it there while he finishes his thought. “Your instincts are right, though. We do need to take our time with each other.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Joy and Bridgette throwing their trash away about five feet from where Roland and I are standing. I take a step back, shaking his hand off my shoulder. Bridgette heads back outside immediately, but Joy seems to be lingering over the trash.
“Well,” I clear my throat and nod toward where Joy is stationed, “thanks again for the off-campus job information. I look forward to seeing you at New Life on Sunday.”
Roland takes a sharp breath through his nose. “Any time, Ms. Sawyer. Though I hope you’ll consider one of the assistant positions in my office on campus?”
I can’t tell if this is part of the undiscussed act we have going between us to keep our connection a secret, or if he’s serious. I’d chuckle either way, so I decide that’s the most appropriate reaction.
“Probably not. I’d love some time off campus. But I’ll tell my floormates. I didn’t realize you had an office on campus.” My nostrils flare as I tilt my head to the side.
He shrugs. “I teach a New Testament class, and a few others, so it’s easier to have a base on campus.”
“Right on,” I concede, growing more uncomfortable by the minute seeing that Joy has found people to talk to that are standing even closer to Roland and me than the trashcan is. “Well, see you Sunday.”
“See you Sunday.” Roland turns and exits the coffee shop, and in a move of self-preservation, I walk over to Joy.
Sidling up next to her, I hear her urgent tone as she addresses people I gather quickly are strangers.
“Eternity is a long time,” Joy pleads. “And hell is hot.”
Casting a quick glance to the people she’s lecturing, I find them staring at her with a mix of humor and contempt.
“Okay.” I clap once and plaster on a gigantic smile. “Joy,” I smile wider, linking my arm through hers, “we’ve gotta go.”
I mouth sorry to the unsuspecting coffee-goers and lead Joy outside.
“What are you doing?” I hiss once we’re outside, shaking her arm from mine.
“Saving souls while you’re trying to get a job at a coffee shop,” she answers so matter-of-factly it causes my jaw to drop.
I point behind me to the door of Word. “You can’t just accost people with threats of hell, Joy!” Our friends, who had been standing at the edge of the sidewalk waiting for us, close in around us now.
Joy’s long hair, which is tied in a tight ponytail, whips over her shoulder as she places her hands on her tiny hips. “That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do, but I wouldn’t expect you to know about that.”
“Okay, okay, okay,” Eden steps between with a nervous twitter. “What’s going on?”
Joy opens her mouth, but I cut her off at the pass. “Joy approached two strangers and started telling them they’re going to hell. I got her out of there before they dumped their drinks on her head.”
Joy quirks her mouth into a condescending grin, rolling her eyes. “Get a grip, Kennedy. We were in a public place and I was trying to rescue people. That’s what we’re supposed to do.”
“You’re insane,” I spit out and push my way through the crowd of immodest sinners, relishing in the touch of their bare skin against mine as I barrel down the sidewalk. With no plan.
How dare she? Just when I thought Joy couldn’t get more stereotypical, she interrupts a couple’s perfectly normal coffee-going Friday afternoon with threats of eternal damnation.
“Kennedy!” Bridgette’s frantic voice calls after me. The way the syllables bounce out of her mouth, I can tell she’s running, but I don’t turn around. “Kennedy, wait!” she calls again.
I slow to a stop, but don’t turn around. When she reaches me, Bridgette is breathless, and I start moving again. Not race-walking this time, but still moving away from the scene of the social crime.
“What?” I huff after a few seconds of silence.
“Come back with us. We’ve still got to go to the mall.” Her voice is that of a small child. Uncertain. Pleading. In fact, so much about the way Bridgette carries herself is like a child that I feel guilty and annoyed at the same time. On one hand—grow up. But, on the other hand, I feel guilty for my outburst. Justified, but guilty.
With a sigh, I stop my forward march to nowhere. “I don’t think I should hang out with Joy. I’m like a sentence and a half away from more demerits than my enrollment can handle with her,” I admit. “I’d kind of like to head to the mall by myself.”
Bridgette knots her fingers in front of her, looking at me as though she already regrets the words she’s about to say. “You…you can’t go to the mall by yourself.”
Of course not. The rules. Freshmen can’t go off campus—except for work—by themselves until they earn the right through good behavior and things like that. Goodness I’m rapidly losing my grip on.
My eyes fill with tears and I’m thankful there’s a short brick wall behind me, outlining the perimeters of a flower vendor. Clutching my coffee in one hand, I use the other to balance myself to sit on the wall, lowering my head. Bridgette sits next to me and offers a gentle arm around my shoulder.
“Does everyone think I overreacted?” I ask with a sniff. “I mean, is that really what we’re supposed to do? Solicit the public with fear? I honestly don’t recall reading Jesus’ speech on that.”
Bridgette laughs. “I don’t think you overreacted. I can’t speak for anyone else, but, no, I don’t think so. You probably shouldn’t have called her insane, though.”
“She’ll tell on me to Maggie,” I say.
Bridgette shrugs. “Probably. You’ll deal with that if it happens.”
For a child-like person, Bridgette su
re is calm. Maybe I have more to learn from her than I gave her credit for.
“It’s going to be awkward going to the mall now,” I admit with a grimace.
“I guess,” she admits. “But it’s better than going back to campus, right?”
My eyes widen. “You’re so right. Thanks for coming to get me, by the way,” I say as we stand and brush the brick dust from our skirts.
“Of course,” Bridgette says, as though I’ve stated the most obvious thing in the world. “We have to stick together, you know.”
I think she’s speaking metaphorically, or something, but I’m grateful for her friendship either way.
On our walk back to the group, which has now started moving our way, I notice the absence of Brent and Joy.
Eden approaches us with a cautious smile. “Brent and Joy met up with some kids heading back to campus.”
I nod, then face the embarrassing task of addressing my friends. “I’m sorry, guys. I just… I’m so far out of my element and, honestly, the guy Joy was talking to looked really ticked off.”
Silas, surprisingly, chimes in first. “It’s okay. She shouldn’t really be doing that by herself, anyway. For just that reason, too. It’s not safe sometimes.”
Eden winces and nods. “My brother got punched once in college during a spring break mission trip to South Beach.”
“Really?” My jaw drops yet again. Both at the violence and trying to figure out what kind of mission trip there might be to South Beach.
“I remember that,” Jonah adds, casting a sideways glance my way. “That was scary.”
Eden shrugs. “He was fine, thankfully, because he was in a group. But, if he’d been alone…”
The unspoken end of her sentence slithers its way around the group, strangling any responses we might have.
“So,” I say with as much humor as possible after a few seconds of silence, “mall?”
The tension breaks its hold over the group and we make our way to the bus stop that holds our ticket to a few more hours of freedom.
We return to campus well after dinner, which is fine since we ate some greasy—so deliciously greasy—mall Chinese food. Eden, Bridgette, and I say goodbye to Silas and Jonah and we make our way back to the dorm. I clutch my shopping bag like it’s the most precious thing I own. It holds three CU approved length skirts. With pockets. Well, two new skirts since I wore one out of the store. Dear, sweet pockets.
Jesus Freaks: Sins of the Father Page 10
