by Ali Berman
“I find it more comforting that my parents don’t know my every thought. As for creating me, my fifth grade Sex Ed class says that they did.”
Tess’s face goes red. “That’s not what I meant,” she says, smiling.
She takes out a sandwich and some carrot sticks. She offers me some and I grab a few carrots and dip them in the extra peanut butter globbed on my sandwich.
“That’s gross,” she says.
“Try it.”
She takes a carrot and rubs it across the bread and eats it.
“Not bad actually.”
She takes a few more bites and asks me about Boston, about Catholic school and about magic. She talks a lot more than I’m used to. Even Margaret usually just listened to Seth and me BS most of the time.
I can’t really figure out if Tess is just being nice or if she’s flirting with me. I’m not even really sure what I would do if she were flirting. How does a guy flirt back?
Wow. I’m pretty sure asking that question makes me pathetic.
Before I have time to figure out what’s happening, a cute girl with huge, curly, red hair walks over, stands a few feet away and points to her watch. Tess waves for her to come closer.
“Beth, this is Ben. He’s new here.”
“Hi,” I say.
“Nice to meet you,” she says. “Tess, I need to talk to you.”
Tess looks at me.
“It’s cool,” I say. “I’ll look for you later.”
“I bet you will,” Tess says, laughing. But it wasn’t a flirty laugh. It sounded more like a you’re royally screwed and you don’t even know it yet kind of laugh.
Tess and Beth walk away whispering to each other. When they get about fifteen feet from my table, Beth looks back at me and giggles. I’m pretty sure it’s a bad sign when girls just look at you and laugh.
I sit in the cafeteria for the rest of the lunch period by myself. If I were at my old school, Seth and Margaret and I would all be trading food and laughing about some stupid thing that happened the night before. I wouldn’t be alone watching everyone stare at me. I’d have friends. Plural.
I go through the next few periods smiling at everyone who looks at me to show that I’m not Satan. By the end of the day my face hurts. Now that I’ve got a plan to go to church with the guys on Sunday, I have an answer to the inevitable church question, and maybe people will stop looking at me and whispering. I’ve met a lot of people, but the only real conversation I’ve had is with Tess.
The last period of the day is a welcome assembly. The teacher doesn’t even say what it’s for. She just tells us to go to the auditorium. I sit toward the back in an empty row of seats. Nearly everyone else is as close to the stage as they can get. All except me and one other kid who sits in the row behind me and a few seats to the left. I feel him looking at me. He doesn’t say anything so I ignore him.
This guy in jeans and a button-down shirt goes on stage with a microphone and all the students cheer. Clapping, whooping, big loud cheering.
“Welcome back Christian Heritage Academy!”
A louder cheer blasts from every mouth around me. It’s like a pep rally, only there’s no football team.
“For those of you who don’t know, I’m Frank Howard, your school voice to spread the word of our Lord Jesus Christ. I hope you all had a great summer. I heard some of you were counselors at your church Bible camps. Good for you. Helping spread the word to younger kids and setting a good example. Seriously, clap for yourselves!”
The students clap again, and I can’t help but think that kids in my town would be laughed at for going to church camp. I always thought that was kind of stupid, making fun of kids just for going to camp, but clapping like it’s the coolest thing in the world makes me laugh a little. This Frank guy looks at me, smiles, and carries on.
“Today, I want to talk about the summer, and about something all of us faced. Temptation. The desire to do bad things even though we know those things go against the teachings of Jesus Christ. Who here has been tempted? That’s it. Raise your hands.”
Hands go up everywhere. Even Frank’s hand goes in the air.
“If you didn’t raise your hand, you’re lying. That’s right. All of us face temptation. And sometimes we fail. We choose the wrong thing. We’re human. Not a single one of us is righteous. Now, I’m guessing that all of you, yes I said all, have sinned during your time away this summer. You may not do it in front of your parents, or your friends, but when you turn your eye inward, and look at yourself, you know. You don’t have to tell me about it. You know. And God knows. Whether it’s indulging in lustful thoughts, greed, swearing, or any other sin, God knows what you did. And you know what? He loves you anyway. He knows that humanity is diseased and He died so that we might rise from our sins and be saved. Now, was anyone here saved this summer?”
A few hands go up.
“That’s right!” he says to those hands. “You may fail sometimes, but now that you’re saved, God is here to catch you. Anyone want to come up and tell us about it?”
A girl toward the back stands and approaches the stage. The other students cheer her on. I think I’m the only person in the room who has no idea what’s going on. Saved?
The girl walks up to Frank and he hands her the microphone.
“Hey everyone. For my entire life I’ve wanted to feel the Holy Spirit and be saved. All of my friends had gone through it and I could tell my family was getting nervous that it hadn’t happened yet. I loved church, but I had questions and doubts. That was until July when my family and I went to church and the preacher was speaking words that felt like they were coming from God himself. I opened myself and let the words in and then it happened. I found Him.”
Students all around stand up and cheer.
“It felt like I was connected to the world, to Jesus and all the reasons He died to save us. All my doubts were gone. I just felt so thankful. I thought my heart was going to explode. And I knew the Holy Spirit had come to me.”
She smiles while the other students continue to cheer, and hands the microphone back to Frank.
“Thank you, Laura,” says Frank. “That’s what I’m talking about, people. Letting Christ’s love into your heart. You can’t just expect it to show up. If you have a party and don’t invite anyone, do you think anyone is going to come? No! You have to send the invitations, ask people to visit. Same with Christ. He needs to know you’re ready for Him. That you know He died so that you might be saved and then, only then, will you feel the wondrous feeling that Laura described. Only then will you truly be saved. Let’s all pray to God that those of us who may not have been saved yet will be able to open themselves to the Holy Spirit soon.”
I’ll admit, at this point, I’m freaking out. I want to raise my hand and ask, What the hell does getting saved mean? But that would point out that I don’t fit in here at all. I have that awful feeling in my stomach, like when you’re at a party and no one talks to you. As Emily would say, it’s like being the only vegan at a pig roast.
Frank talks for a while more about being saved and about the importance of loving Jesus. I clap when other people clap, but all I want to do is go home. Catholic school was nothing like this. Kids there barely talked about god.
“Now a bit of housekeeping,” says Frank. “I want us to do some brainstorming. It’s day one and everyone is excited to be here with their friends. It would be so easy to go about our daily lives, enjoying all that we have. Of course, we have to recognize that not everyone has all the joy we have. Not everyone is as fortunate as we are. That’s right. It’s time to start throwing out ideas for our fall service projects. Let’s help people and spread the word of the Lord. I know you’ve all been thinking about it, so who wants to come up here first and share their ideas?”
A few hands go up. They walk up to the stage and line up.
The first k
id says, “I thought we could do a food drive and help stock the soup kitchen. Then maybe they’ll let us talk to people about God while we serve food.”
The second kid is Kenny, the blond guy who invited me to his church.
“Right now my brother is fighting the war in Iraq. He said they really like getting letters. I thought we could start a pen-pal program to show them they aren’t forgotten.”
Suddenly I feel like crap for not having written to Pete in over a month. We talk on the phone every few weeks and I know my mom and dad email him. I’ve been so busy with the move that I’ve sort of ignored him. I’ll write to him this week.
A tall upper-classman walks up to the mic and says, “I think we should put together a talent-show fundraiser to raise money for sick kids who don’t have insurance at the hospital. And after we’ve raised the money, we should go and perform for all the kids when we give them the check.”
A few more students stand up and offer their ideas.
“We’ll choose a few of these ideas and announce them soon,” Frank says. “Stop by and see me sometime this week to let me know which one you want to help out with.”
As much as the being saved thing weirds me out, this whole volunteering thing is pretty damn awesome. If we do that talent show, I could do magic for the kids. Though I don’t really like the idea of Christians trying to convert people while volunteering. I mean, what’s wrong with Buddhism or Islam or not believing? I’m a good person. Most of the time. To me, all the gods out there sound like Santa Claus. It would be great if he were real but I haven’t seen any evidence.
After the assembly I book it toward the door. I want to get home. I want to call Seth or Margaret and tell them about what I’ve just witnessed. I want to know what being saved means.
Chapter 5
I May Not Be Saved, But I'm Nice
That night I text Margaret and Seth and they agree. It’s way different from our school in Mass. They think it’s hilarious that I’m going to church on Sunday. And they’re right. It’s funny. Why would a kid who doesn’t believe in god go to church? It sounds like the beginning of a bad joke. It’s not. I need to make friends and if that’s where the kids go, that’s where I need to be. Otherwise, the next three years are going to suck.
Neither of them know what being “saved” means. I tell them about the girl’s story and how god came to her or whatever. Margaret thinks they sound like they’re in a cult.
I’m just about to Google the word saved when I look out my window and notice that Tess’s light is still on. Her desk is in front of the window and I can see her sitting in front of her computer. I stand and start jumping and waving my arms to try to get her attention. After about two minutes when I’m almost out of breath, she finally looks up. She looks surprised for a second. Then mouths, “What?”
I point to the street and mouth, “Go downstairs.”
She looks at me like I’m crazy and says, “No!”
“Pleeeeeeaaaaase,” I say with my hands together.
Tess rolls her eyes, looks suspiciously to the left and right, and then holds her finger up as if to say, one minute.
I sneak downstairs and grab Holly’s leash. If my parents figure out I’m gone, I can say Holly really had to pee. She looks a little confused, but excited that she gets an extra walk.
Tess takes a few minutes to come outside. We sneak away from the street lamp and sit on the edge of her yard, behind a big shrub.
“What could possibly be so important that you made me sneak out?”
“It’s barely sneaking out. You haven’t left your property.”
“I’m cavorting with a known atheist. And a boy. It’s a big deal to my parents.”
“When you say it like that, it’s like I’m a kitten killer or something.”
“I don’t think you kill kittens, and I don’t think atheists are bad people. What you believe is what you believe. Be proud of it.”
“Proud of my atheism? It is an ism, right?”
“Yeah,” she says laughing. “It’s an ism. It’s a belief even if it means you don’t believe.”
“How would your parents know what I do or don’t believe?”
“Obviously Angela told them.”
“Does that mean they don’t like me?”
“It’s not that they don’t like you. They just think you’ll be a bad influence. I guess I could tell them I’m trying to save you.”
“Okay, what does that mean? I had no idea what was going on at the assembly today.”
“In that faith, it’s not good enough just to believe in God. Jesus died for our sins and to truly be accepted into heaven and show our love we have to have our moment. Our moment when the Holy Spirit comes into our bodies and we have felt touched by the Lord.”
“What if you don’t get saved?”
“You go to hell.”
“Jesus Christ. Are you kidding?”
“No. And when you’re around me, please don’t swear.”
“Oh. At home it’s not really thought of as a swear.”
“It definitely is here.”
“Sorry.”
“That’s okay. It’s just good to know the ropes so you don’t offend people. Especially the people who are nice to you.” She smiles and pushes me in the shoulder.
Holly rolls over onto her back and Tess rubs her belly.
“What about Catholics and Jews and Hindus and everyone else?” I ask.
“What do you mean?”
“Where do they go when they die?”
“Hell. At least according to most people here.”
“That’s messed up.”
“It’s only messed up if you believe it,” she says.
“You don’t?”
She pauses for a minute, looks back at the house, and then straight into my eyes. “Look, I’m going to tell you something I’ve never told anyone but my brother. Can you keep a secret?”
“Yeah. Of course.”
“I think the Christians around here have it wrong.”
“But you still believe in god?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think I’m going to hell?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I believe that Jesus died for our sins and that counts for everyone. You don’t have to be saved to go to heaven. We’re all going no matter what we believe.”
“You think your parents would be mad if they knew? You’re still religious.”
“They would think I’m going to hell and I don’t want to put them through that. They’ve already lost one son. I don’t want them to think they lost me too.”
“They chose to lose their son. It’s not like he died.”
“It’s really complicated. I know it’s devastating for them but they don’t want him to be a bad influence on the rest of us.”
“Isn’t it harder on your brother than it is on your parents?”
“Probably equal.”
“Do you still talk to your brother?”
“I’m not supposed to but I email him all the time. I haven’t seen him in two years though.”
“Where is he?”
“Denver.”
“That’s not so far.”
“It’s really far when you’re me.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, unable to think of anything else.
“Well, in a few years I’ll be in college and then I’ll be able to see him.” Tess looks nervously back at her house. “I should get back inside,” she says.
“Tess?” I say.
“Yeah,” she whispers.
“Thanks for coming out here and for, you know, being so cool.”
She smiles and moves her hair away from her face. “No problem.”
Chapter 6
Chimps Have Feelings Too
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br /> Tess and I hang out every lunch period for the rest of the week. She says that everyone knows I’m an atheist. No one has said a single thing to me about it and that‘s fine by me. Different beliefs cohabitating in the same school. That’s how it should be.
No one besides Tess has really made an effort to get to know me. Kenny and the other guys I’m going to church with this weekend give me a high five or pat me on the back whenever we pass each other in the hall and say, “Sunday!” But that’s about it. Back at home if someone did that, they would be excited about a Red Sox or Patriots game, not church.
We start getting homework assignments and things are pretty similar to my old school, although the teachers always seem to find a way to connect the day’s subjects back to the Bible. It’s annoying but I just ignore those parts. I even find that I’m not swearing. Without hearing it all the time in the halls, it’s just fading out of my vocabulary. I’m even making an effort not to say Jesus Christ. Not because I think I’m offending god or anything. I don’t want to offend Tess.
The teachers seem pretty good. For our first book in English class, Mrs. Daniels gave out copies of Beowulf. I’ve already read the graphic novel version so it should be easy. We get to pick some of our own reading. Sadly, I doubt Mrs. Daniels would let me bring in Bone or Y: The Last Man. It’s annoying that teachers still don’t think graphic novels are real books. I’ve learned more about math from Logicomix than I learned from any teacher.
Up until Friday, I’m able to get by without offending anyone. I’m feeling like a model student. Even if I barely talk. Then Mr. Thompson, the science teacher, answers a kid’s question about creation during fourth period.
Mr. Thompson says, “Scientists try to explain God’s creation as something that came from a big pile of goo instead of from the Almighty. In my class, we’re only going to study science that is proven and that hasn’t been poisoned by evolution. You know,” he says with a frown, “the belief that humans evolved from monkeys.”
All the students in the room (except me) crack up like that was the funniest thing ever.
