“Yeah. It’s gonna suck, but I want to win.”
He nodded. “Shit’ll get crazy when this goes through.”
Jess’s laugh came out as a high-pitched squawk. “Have you looked around this place? People I don’t even know sat in their homes and made mean signs about me to bring out here. I have reporters trying to ruin my life and an entire church dedicated to holding me up as an example of how people are no better than pigs. I’d argue that shit is already crazy, Chris.” Maybe it was the adrenaline, but it felt like things were finally coming together… the way two cars traveling in opposite directions came together on a highway when one of them veered over the double yellow line.
Chris cracked his knuckles nervously. “You got a point, I guess. So are you ready for it?”
She laughed, and it felt good in her chest. “Of course I’m not ready.” She thought back to her mother’s advice when they’d first discussed this unfortunate miracle: Wrap that shit up and go to town.
No, not that. The part after that. Jess tried to remember Destinee’s exact words. You don’t get to wait till you’re ready.
“You know,” she added, “besides a few quirks that aren’t much more than party tricks, a direct line to a Father who thinks He’s the center of the universe, and a literally miraculous ability to kick field goals, basically all I get from being who I am is grief. Maybe I could change that later on down the road if I tried, and maybe not. I don’t have control over what everyone else does.
“But I can actually win us a championship right now. That’s something I can control. Maybe it would make all this madness worth it. And maybe not. It doesn’t matter. I don’t think any of this is about me and my life, anyway. So yeah, I’m going to kick the shit out of this ball, watch it sail through the uprights, and let this little world we live in collapse in its own insane bullshit. So the question is, are you ready for it?”
When Chris stared at her blankly, she wondered if she’d finally scared him off by presenting him with perspective on her life.
“Well shit,” he said. His face was impossible to read, but then he added, “You bet your ass I’m ready for it,” and went down on one knee in front of her, positioning himself for the snap.
The Hilltoppers charged onto the field again, and she took two steps back, one to the side, and waited.
Then the ball appeared underneath his finger.
For the record, I’m still mad at You for this test.
She hit the ball just right—though obviously her form was simply an added bonus—and it shot out from underneath Chris’s finger so quickly that her foot felt sucked forward by the air currents.
The clock ticked down to zero before the ball finally found its way between the posts and the crowd turned into a mob. A completely frenzied mob.
Jess pulled off her helmet and sighed as Chris stepped in front of her, his helmet already removed as he stared down into her eyes. “Bring on the shitstorm,” he said, and when she smiled, he lowered his lips toward hers, and she met him halfway, wrapping her arms around his neck and closing her eyes against the camera flashes. She’d concede this incriminating picture, which would no doubt appear above headlines about how she was dating two boys—maybe they’d even call her a slut or say something about acorns not falling far from their tree. Those were all later problems.
She wished she could’ve made out with Chris on the field all night, but they were only allowed a few seconds of solitary bliss before the ground beneath her shook like an earthquake and a tsunami of teammates enveloped them and began tossing her in every direction.
And as Chris beamed down at her and her teammates chanted McCloud! McCloud!; and as she looked over and saw Destinee, her arms waving wildly as she led the jubilant rush of spectators onto the field; and as she spotted Mooremont students she knew only by face rather than name taunting Jimmy Dean and the other protestors from the White Light Church; one clear idea began to take root in Jessica’s mind:
Life can only get shittier from here.
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It's a Miracle!
16 A.G.C.
Midway through dragging the straightening iron down a chunk of her ash-brown hair, Jessica McCloud paused to focus on the voice coming through the television in the living room. She recognized the speaker instinctively, despite how long it’d been since she’d last spoken with him in person. Maybe her recognition had to do with the voice belonging to one of the first faces she ever saw. Maybe that was why it was lodged in the recesses of her mind like a piece of spinach between unbrushed teeth.
A rancid burning smell reminded her of what she was doing. “Shit!” She pulled the iron the rest of the way down the strand and then dodged out of the bathroom and into the dim living room.
The first thing her eyes landed upon was Destinee and Coach Rex on the couch, his arm slung over the back and around her mother’s shoulders, their eyes glued to the television, their after-dinner Dos Equises still nearly full, sweating and forgotten on the TV tray in front of them.
“What’s he doing on the news?” asked Jessica, positioning herself next to the couch to get a better look.
Destinee shushed her. “Just watch.”
Jimmy’s face grinned from the TV. His teeth looked whiter since the last time she’d seen him, and she suspected that was from no lack of effort on his part. With the money he was now pulling in from his religious enterprise, he could afford the best teeth whitening Midland had to offer, she was sure. His hair, though, looked just the same, slicked back into a perfectly gelled swoop that never moved but somehow also looked natural and like it’d been style by the hand of God Himself. Of course Jessica knew with certainty that wasn’t the case.
“… And so it seemed there was really only one thing that I, a humble servant of the Lord, could do to put God back in government,” Jimmy said.
“Put God back in government?” Jessica echoed.
YEAH. NO THANKS.
“Shh!” Destinee hissed. “Listen.”
“So on this glorious Texas day in May, before all of you, many of whom have been loyal members of the White Light congregation for years, I’m officially announcing my candidacy for Mayor of Midland, the godliest city in the godliest state in the greatest country of the world. Thank you.” And just like that, Jessica was nauseated.
Jimmy was making a play—there was no doubt in her mind about that—but she had absolutely no idea what the play was working toward.
I should have spent more time learning chess.
“So is this bad?” Coach Rex asked hesitantly.
THIS GUY. WHAT AN IDIOT.
Hush!
“Yeah,” Destinee said, “it’s bad.”
Rex nodded slowly like he understood, then said, “So it’s bad because …”
Destinee sighed. “God only knows.” Then it seemed to occur to her what she’d said and she turned to Jessica. “Does he know?”
Do you know why this is bad?
OF COURSE.
Why is it bad?
BECAUSE JIMMY IS THE WORST.
Could you be more specific?
SURE YOU
WANT ME TO SPOIL THE ENDING FOR YOU?
She thought about the last divine spoiler he’d given her, how it’d left her stomach churning and her heart racing for the duration of the state championship, how she’d developed severe acid reflux in the days following the victory—though perhaps that was more from the fallout of kicking a hundred-yard field goal and kissing two different boys in the course of one evening on what turned out to be a national stage than it was from God’s spoiler.
Six in one hand, half a dozen in the other, really.
No. Please don’t. Just let me know if the shit’s about to hit the fan.
She returned her attention to her mother, who was waiting patiently. Rex seemed concerned. He was still having difficulty adjusting to Jessica’s regular mental lapses while she spoke to her Father. “He said it’s bad because Jimmy is the worst.”
“Amen,” Destinee said. “At least he’s got that right.”
KINDLY REMIND HER OF THE MANY THINGS I GOT RIGHT THE NIGHT WE MET.
Nope. Go away.
TELL HER.
Isn’t one of your commandments about jealousy?
COVETING. AND SHE’S NOT HIS WIFE, THANK ME. BESIDES, THAT DOESN’T APPLY BECAUSE I AM GOD.
So you keep saying.
SO YOU KEEP FORGETTING.
I wish.
Jessica returned to the bathroom to finish her hair and put on a touch of mascara before she left for the night. There were a million ways Jimmy could use politics against her (and she had no doubt that was part of whatever dangerous web he was spinning), but there really wasn’t a point in worrying about it yet, especially when she had more immediate things occupying her mind …
To say she was nervous about attending her first kegger would be a gross understatement akin to saying Jesus had an okay pain tolerance or Moses had a poor sense of direction. Junior year had been such a whirlwind of football, media (mis)management, AP classes, and, whenever she had time, trying to maintain relationships, that parties never quite made it onto her radar. The busyness had served her well, though, when it came to avoiding drama. Sandra and Courtney and even Greg had tried to start it multiple times, prodding her with rumors and admittedly creative accusations to get a rise, but she’d been too preoccupied to ever address the nonsense, so nothing had stuck. Finally her antagonizers gave up on using her as a source of sadistic entertainment and simply began ignoring her, which Jessica much preferred.
A knock on the front door pulled her from her anxious preening, and she heard her mother exchange casual greetings with Chris.
Best not to leave him alone with Destinee and Rex too long, though, so she hurriedly brushed her teeth, grabbed her shoes, and ran out into the living room to meet him.
“Hey.” He looked her up and down and grinned. “You look… pretty.”
Pretty? She wanted to look hot. But maybe that’s what he meant.
“Now remember,” Destinee said in a lecturing tone that sounded one-hundred-percent synthetic, “no drunk driving.”
Rex added, “Or tipsy driving.”
Destinee’s head hitched slightly to the side. “Well … Yeah, probably that too. But you don’t want to be a square at the party.”
“Pretty sure God’s got me covered,” Jess said, itching to get out the door so she could, firstly, not have to worry about something embarrassing coming from her mother’s mouth, and secondly, make out with Chris, who she hadn’t seen in a good twenty-four hours since school let out for summer the day before.
“Be that as it may,” Destinee said, “you can still wind up in a heap of trouble getting caught, even if you don’t hurt nobody.”
“I understand,” Chris said. “You don’t have to worry about it.”
Destinee nodded, pacified, and Jess took that as her opportunity to herd Chris out the door.
“Oh wait!” Destinee said before they could even take two steps. “Wait here.” She hurried into the kitchen and then came back out with a twelve-pack of Dos Equis cans. “You don’t want to be the asswipes who show up empty-handed.”
Jess shut her eyes, although, on the scale of embarrassing things Destinee could say or do, encouraging teen drinking was incredibly mild. She sighed and looked at Chris. He didn’t seem embarrassed at all. “Thanks, Mrs. McCloud!” He stepped up and grabbed the case from her, grinning dumbly.
“Uh,” spoke Rex from the couch, “I hate to be the one to say this…”
Destinee turned toward him. “Then don’t.”
“But the football team has a strict no-alcohol policy.”
She threw her fists onto her hips. “Is it football season?”
“Uh, no. But I mean.”
She waved him off and then turned back to Jessica and Chris. “Go have fun. Tell Colton I said congrats, too.”
“Will do,” Chris said, but Jessica knew it probably wouldn’t happen. From what she’d heard of Colton’s graduation party, everyone from Mooremont and their cousins would be there. Chris and Jessica would be lucky if they even got a word in with Colton the whole night.
Chris opened the door and headed out toward his truck, and Jess paused when Destinee whispered her name. She turned back to look at her mother, wondering what it could be now.
“You got your …” Destinee made a ring with the thumb and pointer finger of her right hand and then poked the pointer finger of her left hand through it.
It took a second, but once Jess realized that her mother was pantomiming rolling a condom on a penis, her eyes darted over to Coach Rex. He squinted, still puzzling over the gesture. Jess shot her mom a harsh look and waved for her to put her hands down. “Yes. You put them in my purse this morning.”
Destinee nodded. “Oh, that’s right. Almost forgot.”
Jess hadn’t forgotten. Not that she would need condoms with Chris. Not yet, at least. Though she didn’t know how much longer the center would hold on that.
She’d hardly set her purse down on the floorboards of the F-350 before Chris grabbed her and pulled her head toward his for a kiss. After almost a year and a half, simply making out with him was still good enough for her. She was about seventy percent sure it was still good enough for him, too.
When he finally disengaged, he breathed in deeply and said, “I’ve missed you. I almost wish we didn’t have to go to this party so I could have you all to myself.”
Jess laughed. “We better get going. Miranda’s gonna be pissed if we pick her up late again.”
Chris frowned slightly, his brows pinching together as he shook his head. “No, we’re not picking her up.”
“I thought we were.”
“No. I texted her to ask, but she already had a ride. Figured you knew.”
“Oh. With who?”
“Quentin.”
“Quentin Jones.”
“Yep.”
Jessica leaned back in her seat, staring vaguely ahead. “Huh.”
“That’s what I said, too.”
So maybe she hadn’t kept up with Miranda the past few weeks like she should have. She’d have to ask her once they arrived at the party. And speaking of which …
“You ever been to one of Colton’s famous bonfires?” she asked.
Chris shook his head. “Nope.”
“I don’t know why,” she said hesitantly, “but I’m kind of nervous.”
She’d expected his reply to be the usual confident chuckle, followed by an assurance that he wouldn’t let anything happen, maybe even a demonstrative flex of his biceps.
But instead, he said, “Yeah, me too.”
CLICK HERE to get the rest of It’s A Miracle! (Jessica Christ, Book 3) from Amazon.com
H. Claire Taylor has lived in Austin, Texas, since the eighties, and now there’s really no reason to leave. She started writing her first novel at age ten and has been making things up ever since. Nowadays, she shares a home with her husband and two black-and-white mutts and suffers from an unhealthy dependency on Post-It Notes. When she’s not working on her novels, she’s blogging and re
cording comedy podcasts.
You can find out more at www.hclairetaylor.com
More from H. Claire Taylor
The Beginning (Jessica Christ, Book 1)
The Fraud
Wimbledon, Kentucky
A Single’s Guide to Texas Roadways
And It Was Good (Jessica Christ Book 2) Page 21
