Miranda narrowed her eyes at him. “Yeah, maybe. You know Louisiana is just one state over, right?”
“Psh, of course I know that.” Chris quickly finished his first beer.
As he popped open another, Jessica asked, “Where are you thinking about going, Chris?”
It was a topic they’d danced around but never addressed: what happened if they went to different colleges? Broaching the subject with Miranda around felt somehow safer.
Chris seemed to consider his words carefully, which only made Jessica more nervous; Chris never considered his words carefully.
“I dunno. Been talking with a guy from Abilene Christian, one from Tech, one from Texas State, and one from SMU.”
“Oh wow,” Miranda said. “That’s a lot of guys. All for football?”
Chris nodded.
Miranda turned to Jess. “Those are the same ones you’ve been talking to, right?”
“Eh, some of the same. Tech, A&M, UT, then a few others.” She decided not to point out that the men from the Christian universities conspicuously passed her over, or that “a few others” really meant dozens—all of which were out of state. Destinee and Mr. Foster knew about the out of state ones, and she’d mentioned them to Miranda as the letters of interest came in, but always with a singular instruction: don’t tell Chris. She wasn’t sure how he’d take it, knowing places like Ohio State and USC were courting her but not him.
“What about all the out of state ones?” Miranda asked. “Like, didn’t USC call you up the other day, just about ready to sign you then and there?”
Jess shot Miranda a pointed glare but could feel Chris’s eyes glued to the side of her face. And then Miranda remembered. “Oh, wait. Maybe that was someone else.”
Jessica sighed. “No, it was me.” She turned toward Chris, and could tell he was attempting a poker face, but he wasn’t great at it. His expression was simply slack, like he was falling asleep. “You okay?” she asked.
He blinked rapidly and nodded as he looked away.
“Well hey,” Miranda said, “you two could end up at the same place. Wouldn’t that be fun if you got to play football together in college?”
“Yeah,” Jess said without looking at Chris.
“Yeah,” Chris said without looking at Jess.
Time for a new subject. This had entered into territory Jess didn’t care to explore any further. So she turned the conversation to a topic that was easier to discuss. “You know, I think that assassination attempt might have been intended for me.”
She’d given the notion plenty of thought before saying those words aloud, fearing that it would sound a little egocentric to assume that someone wanted to kill her more than Jameson, even though it wasn’t much of a stretch to assume that people who thought she was the Antichrist might want to see her dead.
Miranda and Chris avoided her eyes uncomfortably, then finally Miranda said, “Yeah, we were thinking the same thing.”
“We just didn’t want you to be all freaked out,” Chris added.
“Wait. We? Y’all have been talking about this?”
Miranda and Chris glanced at each other. “Yeah, but, like, not much,” Miranda said.
“Just right after it came on the news,” Chris added. “I mean, who would want to kill Jameson Fractal anyway? He’s dreamy … or whatever.”
Jess took a sip and leaned back farther in her chair. “He’s a lot less dreamy when he has a bullet hole through his head, I can tell you that.”
“I still think you should’ve gone to see him in the hospital the next day,” Miranda said for what had to be the twentieth time since the incident. “Wendy said he wanted to see you. You know, sometimes when someone saves someone else’s life, the two fall in love.” She paused, then, “Oh, sorry, Chris.”
“Listen, if Jessica left me for Jameson Fractal, I would understand. Dude’s a stud. He got insanely ripped for that movie that came out last year. What was it called? Jack …”
“Jack …” Miranda supplied, also trying to remember the title.
“Hoffman?”
Miranda locked eyes with him. “Jack Hoffman? That can’t be right.”
Chris shook his head. “No, but it’s something like that. Jack something.”
“Yeah,” Miranda agreed. “Jack something.”
“Point is, he was ripped. I wouldn’t even be mad if you left me for him.”
“Okay.” Jess waved her hand through the air to get them back on track. “First of all, I’m not going to end up with Jameson. I doubt I’ll ever even have another sex dream about him, after seeing his face like that. Second of all, we don’t know that the reason he wanted to see me was to thank me. He could’ve just as easily wanted to blame me for getting him shot. But mostly, I just don’t know that I want to meet him again. Like, you can’t make much of a worse first impression with someone than to be the last person they saw before they died. For all we know, he could’ve just started screaming when he saw my face and not stopped till he was sedated. I don’t think I could handle that.”
“That’s true,” said Chris.
Miranda smacked his arm. “No, it’s not.” She turned to Jess. “That wouldn’t have happened. But it was your choice to see him or not, and he’s fine now.”
“Besides the psychological trauma,” Jess said.
“Right.” Miranda paused. “Besides the psychological trauma.”
Filming for the third of the Ravaged series, starring Jameson Fractal, had been slated to start the week after Jessica’s endorsement, but it’d been over a month, and Jameson still hadn’t left his Austin condo. At least that was the rumor (which was substantiated by Wendy Peterman). It sounded like he was going through some sort of metamorphosis, and who even knew how he would emerge on the other side. Jess knew better than to hope for anything good, considering the transformation Mrs. Wurst had gone through post-resurrection. Now every time Jessica thought about her celebrity crush, she felt a pang of guilt in her stomach followed by a brief wave of nausea.
Miranda leaned over quickly and pulled her cell phone from the back pocket of her softball pants. After fiddling with it, she said, “Gotta go. Alicia Alejo won’t get off my ass about finishing our government project.” She tipped back the last of her beer. “Guess she does have a point. I gotta graduate before I can go to college.”
“It does help, I’ve heard.” Jess reached forward and took the empty from Miranda before tossing it into the recycling bin behind them.
Once Miranda had left through the side gate, Jess turned to Chris. “You have homework, too?” It was getting late, probably close to nine, and the sun had disappeared, but it wasn’t yet completely dark.
“Yeah, but I can do it later.”
He didn’t want to leave yet. Jess understood. She didn’t want him to leave yet either. It felt like there were things to talk about, but she wasn’t quite ready to bring them up.
Chris did her the favor of starting off conversation. “I’ve been noticing strange things lately.”
“Huh?”
“Like, um, feelings.”
This was not what she was expecting. She couldn’t imagine there was a good scenario where a boyfriend told his girlfriend he was experiencing strange feelings. Stay calm! “Okay?”
“It’s just like, when I look at people … I don’t know how to say it.” He scooted back in his chair, leaning forward, staring out across the McCloud back yard and beyond the chain-link fence to the Del Toros’ back yard, which was cluttered with a rotation of random objects Jess could never definitively identify. “So like, the other day. I was looking at Enrique, and I just … felt something.”
Oh. Shit.
If it’d been anyone but Enrique Gutierrez, a sophomore who was way hotter than should be allowed for a fifteen-year-old, Jessica might not have come to the conclusion that she did. But it was Enrique, with his perfectly symmetrical face, his lean soccer physique, his chiseled jaw and dimples and eyes that welled up with passion every time he spo
ke about his childhood in Guatemala.
“Okay,” Jess said hesitantly. She wasn’t experienced with this sort of thing, but she knew better than to make Chris feel guilt or shame—a lesson she’d learned from Greg, actually.
Freaking Greg.
“And it was the same thing with Quentin. And a few others. The same— I don’t know what to call it.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “I don’t think what you’re feeling is that odd, actually.”
Chris’s eyes lit up and he jerked his head toward her. “You don’t? You know what I’m feeling?”
“Well, I don’t understand it personally, but I’ve heard of it. I mean, it’s normal. And God’s okay with it, actually.”
“Huh? Why wouldn’t God be okay with it?”
Jess laughed. “Right? I don’t know why everyone says it’s a sin. It’s really not.”
Dammit! Dammit! Dammit! Why? Why did I have to fall for a gay?!
“Who says it’s a sin?” Chris asked, squinting intensely at her.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s not.”
Chris cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. “Wait. What’s not?”
“Being …” she looked at him. What was going on here? “Being gay.”
Chris’s arms flung back, spilling beer down his front. He cursed and wiped away the liquid before looking back up at Jessica. “I’m not gay. No, that’s not even— That’s not at all what I was saying. I mean, I’m glad God’s cool with it, but damn, Jess. You thought … ? Fuuuck. ”
“Wait, then what were you saying about Enrique and Quentin?”
“The colors,” he said plainly.
“I don’t think you’re supposed to call them that.”
“No. I mean”—he paused, shut his eyes tight, crinkling his nose, and then finally had the words for it—“I see colors. Around people.”
“You what?” She set her beer in the cup holder of the chair so it didn’t fall out of her grasp.
“Colors. It’s this weird thing. I’ve … sort of always seen them, here and there, and I guess I kinda figured everyone did but that it was one of those things like sex and addiction and gun control that nobody’s supposed to talk about with others. But lately I’ve been seeing it pretty much constantly with certain people. The ones around Enrique are just the strongest I’ve seen in a while.”
“Ah.” So that explained nothing.
“I mean, it’s probably just a brain thing, right? I’ve had a few concussions. And then the weird dreams … that’s just a brain thing, too.”
“Right,” Jess said, unsure of what else to say. “A brain thing. Probably just a brain thing.”
“You think I should get it checked out?”
She shrugged. “If you want to. Maybe it’s just your retinas or …” She shook her head vaguely as she tried to think of some similar ability in the animal kingdom and came up short.
“You don’t think I’m crazy, do you?” he asked.
“Of course not.” She chuckled. “I’m just glad you’re not gay.”
“Me too.” He reached his hand out for hers and she took it. “Me fuckin’ too.”
“Grab me another, would you?” she said, wiggling her bottle at him. She downed the rest as he let go of her hand and reached back into the cooler.
It was now or never. They were already talking openly, which they hadn’t had a good chance to do in a while, and Chris wasn’t gay. She had momentum, basically.
When he handed her the beer, she went for it. “Hey, can I ask you something?” She couldn’t look at him.
“Of course.”
“Are you mad that we haven’t … you know.”
“Made love?”
She snorted and looked up at him. Oh, he was being genuine. “Uh, yeah. That.”
“No, I’m not mad about it.”
She looked back down at her beer bottle. “I mean, would you want to?”
“Would I want to?!” he echoed incredulously. “Uh, getting nasty with you in the bed of my truck—”
“Well, it doesn’t have to be there—”
“—Is all I think about.”
“That’s all you think about?”
He shrugged. “Well, okay, no. That and football. Those two things.”
“Then why aren’t you mad that we haven’t yet?”
Now it was his turn to dodge eye contact. “I don’t think your Father would approve.”
“Uh. I don’t think that matters.”
He clutched the arms of his chair like he was holding himself in place. “Of course it matters!”
“Okay, so maybe it matters a little bit.”
Chris leaned toward her and whispered, “He could smite me for it.”
“He can hear whispers, Chris, and I don’t think He has much room to judge, considering my mom was a few months younger than I am right now when He … you know.”
He still didn’t seem convinced. “Maybe.”
“I mean, I can talk to Him.”
Chris set his jaw and nodded. “Yeah, do that. But don’t tell him I wanted you to. I don’t want him to think I’m pressuring you. Because I’m not. Really, it’s okay.”
Jessica sighed. Poor Chris. “Okay, I won’t tell Him.”
Chris seemed appeased, and he slapped the armrests of his chair. “I should get home.”
“Yeah.”
As he stood, so did she. “Want to make out a little first?” she asked.
“Hell yeah, girl. You. Me. Backseat of my truck. Right now!” He reached down, scooping her up with an arm under her shoulder blade and one under her knees, and carried her hurriedly through the house toward the front door, darting by Destinee, who sat on the couch watching TV and shouted distractedly as they passed, “Use protection!”
The away game against Andrews High had made it a late night for Jessica. Normally, that wouldn’t be an issue, but this was not a normal Saturday morning. This was the SATs, a high-stakes game of academics, where the winners were showered in scholarships while the losers were left to research which community college they wanted to drop out of in the next couple years.
Jessica dragged herself through the front doors of Mooremont and groggily headed toward the testing classroom to see if she couldn’t sneak in a quick nap in the hallway before they were allowed inside.
Chris was already there when she turned the corner and saw the long line of students, all of whom appeared to have fallen against the wall and slid straight down, their knees tucked up toward their chest, many still wearing their backpacks.
When he saw her, he used his shoulder to shove Drew Fenster away from him, creating a small space for Jessica to slide down the wall next to him.
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
He wove his fingers through hers and let their clasped hands fall limp between them without another word said. Jessica closed her eyes.
She tried to stay focused on the test ahead, but her brain was too foggy, and before long her mind began crafting fractal patterns of thought, each one branching out into some other more nonsensical topic, until she lost all awareness of where she was in space and time.
“Miss McCloud,” said a familiar voice that was way too alert for the hour. Jess’s eyes shot open and she realized her mouth had been gaping. She looked up and spotted Mrs. Thomas, who was heading down the hallway in her direction. “You have a minute?”
“Of course.”
She pulled her fingers gently away from Chris (also sitting with his eyes closed, mouth gaping) and followed the principal farther down the hall until they were out of earshot of the others. “You eat breakfast?” Mrs. Thomas asked.
“I had an orange.”
Mrs. Thomas pressed her lips together tightly to hold back whatever disapproval Jess knew she probably deserved. “Here.” She held out a granola bar. “From the cafeteria.”
“Thanks.”
“How are you feeling this morning?”
“Nervous, I guess.”
; Mrs. Thomas smiled. “Don’t be. You’ll do fine. In fact, I imagine you’re probably the student with the top chance of a perfect score. But, between you and me, if you find that you know the answers to all the questions, maybe just omit one or two so … you know.”
“Colleges don’t think I used God powers?”
“Right.” Mrs. Thomas winked. “Other than that, I just wanted to check in. I know we haven’t spoken since the assassination.”
Mrs. Thomas’s willingness to call it what it was—unlike most other people who skirted around the brutal truth with things like “incident” and “endorsement thing”—brought Jessica to a higher level of alertness immediately. “And I just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay. That’s a lot of trauma for someone your age to go through.”
“Yeah, I suppose so. I’m fine.”
Mrs. Thomas cocked an eyebrow. “Really? You know you can tell me.”
Jessica sighed. “I mean, it sucks. And if I’m being honest, the more I think about it, the less I believe that bullet was intended for him.”
Mrs. Thomas nodded, apparently getting Jessica’s meaning immediately. “I was wondering if you’d come to that conclusion. I have my concerns as well. It was incredibly brave of you not to run off the stage before the area had been secured.”
“Huh?”
“Oh, well, just … you know. One person was shot by an unknown gunman, who, for all we know could’ve fired off a few rounds without any trouble, but rather than ducking for cover, you ran to help the wounded.”
“Oh. Huh. I didn’t even consider that.”
Mrs. Thomas tilted her head to the side and smiled. “Well, not sparing a thought for your personal safety is part of bravery, I suppose. And I wouldn’t expect you to worry about it, seeing as how you have someone watching out for you.”
“Who?” Then, “Oh, right.” She really should have gone straight to bed after the game. She fidgeted with the granola bar wrapper. “I can’t help but wonder if I’m not endangering all the people around me every time I go out in the open.”
Mrs. Thomas nodded sympathetically but said nothing.
“Last night, at the Andrews game, I thought I saw a sniper crouched on top of the announcer’s box. I almost had a heart attack. Turned out it was just a big vulture.”
It's a Miracle! Page 13
