“Well, you’re a boy, and my father would consider any hanging out with a boy to be a date.”
“But you hung out with me last week,” Curt said, a confused expression on his face.
“Yeah, but my father didn’t know about that,” Hannah said in a low voice, her cheeks reddening.
“Oh. Well, maybe he doesn’t need to know about this,” he whispered, a glint of mischief in his eyes.
“Sorry. I can’t.”
Sneaking out in the middle of the night when her father wouldn’t even notice her absence was one thing. But trying to avoid him in the early evening, when she’d have to lie in order to conceal her activity was another thing completely.
Curt bowed his head slightly. “Okay. No problem. See you around.”
He walked three steps before Hannah called him back. “Do you want to come to youth group with me?”
Jane happened to appear at this exact moment. She must have heard Hannah’s invitation because her mouth dropped open.
“As in like your church stuff?” he asked.
“Yeah.” Hannah’s cheeks burned even hotter. “We play games. Hang out. Talk about God…”
She waited as Curt did the mental calculations. What was he thinking now? Obviously, he knew she was religious. And Hannah normally didn’t struggle to identify herself as Christian. She was proud of her faith, proud of the way it had shaped her life. Even still, every second he remained silent increased her unrest.
Finally, he nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
She hadn’t expected him to say ‘yes’. What had she even wanted him to say?
“Yeah, sure. When and where is it?”
Hannah provided Curt with the start time and address as Jane looked on dumbfounded. She waited until he walked off to broach the subject with Hannah.
“Why did you invite him?” she asked in a terse whisper, even though by that time Curt was long gone.
“Because we’re supposed to invite non-believers to church, right?” Hannah asked, as if this was a normal thing.
“Yeah, but still, him? He’ll make fun of us. That’s the only reason he’d come. Unless he wants to score points with you so he can sleep with you or something.”
Hannah scoffed at the accusation. “I don’t think he’ll do any of that.”
She explicitly meant Curt wouldn’t mock them. The other possibility Jane had posited seemed too unrealistic to acknowledge.
“Are you sure? He’s friends with Greg and Tom. You remember the stuff they put us through earlier in the year, right?”
Greg and Tom, whom Hannah had witnessed make numerous disparaging remarks toward Christians in the past, did indeed often accompany Curt. That plus the fact that her first encounter with Curt involved him yelling at her made Jane’s suggestion extremely plausible. For a moment, Hannah imagined all the atheists in school barging into their youth group meeting and commandeering the stage. She shook off the possibility.
“It’ll be fine,” she assured both Jane and herself.
“Why are you doing this?” Kate asked over the phone.
Curt held his cell while wandering his bedroom, searching for better clothes to wear. What did people wear to church? Curt had only gone to a few functions at church over the years. He tried to remember what others wore when he’d gone.
“Hello?” Kate asked.
“I’m still here. I don’t know. These guys all think they know what atheists are like. I want to shatter those stereotypes.”
From his—and his dad’s—experience, it seemed Christians thought of atheists as arrogant know it alls, who drifted through life without purpose, other than partaking in whatever hedonistic pleasure they could find. And killing babies—as many babies as possible.
“On a certain level, I get you. But from my own experience, I can tell you people see what they want to see. You won’t change their minds.”
“Well, we’ll see.”
Curt glanced at himself in the mirror. He was wearing a dark-blue graphic tee emblazoned with a flock of flying birds and a pair of stonewashed blue jeans.
“So Hannah just invited you out of the blue?”
“More or less.”
He stashed his keys and wallet into his pockets.
“I still think this is a bad idea. You should take someone else with you.”
Curt chuckled. “What do you think they’re going to do to me, Kate? Jump me? Whatever else you think of Christians, I don’t think they’re going to get violent.”
“There are other ways of hurting people besides using physical force.”
Curt assumed she spoke from personal experience.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. I’ll give you a call later, okay?”
“Okay.”
Curt walked across town toward Beaumont Baptist Church. Kate’s concerns replayed in his mind, chipping away at his confidence. Demographically speaking, atheists were a significant minority in America. Curt couldn’t remember the specific figures his father sometimes cited but suspected they hovered in the single digits percentage-wise. He was used to feeling ideologically isolated. Still, there was something intimidating about waltzing into a place where literally everyone else believed. And knew that Curt didn’t. He’d be wearing a giant bullseye on his back.
By the time Curt reached the large brick church, his confidence had eroded to the point that he paced back and forth on the sidewalk in front of the entrance. Several other high school kids—some he knew and others he didn’t—walked past him on their way into youth group. The ones from Beaumont High gave him the side-eye, perhaps wondering if they were seeing things. Curt McDonald poised to enter their church? Impossible!
Curt was about to turn and leave when Hannah appeared at the door.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hi.” Curt stopped his restless wandering.
Hannah leaned against the door frame. “Someone said they saw you out here. Do you want to come in? No pressure.”
“Yeah, sure.”
Curt hopped up the steps but paused when he reached the threshold. Hannah looked back at him curiously. He stepped across the boundary between inside and outside. When he wasn’t instantaneously burned to ash, Curt decided it was safe to enter. Whether he’d feel that way at the end of the night remained a mystery.
12
Ready
Justin sat in a creaky metal chair in a small meeting room in the local Humanist Society. The Humanist Society met in an old Quaker Church also shared by a small Jewish congregation. Not necessarily an atheistic group, the Humanist Society focused on discussing ethics and using reason to approach current events and problems. Not all atheists were humanists and not all humanists were atheists, though quite a bit of overlap existed between the two groups.
Matt had been an influential member of their society. He wasn’t the only leader but happened to be the most articulate and charismatic. Without him, their group lacked vocal leadership. That was the point of the meeting, specifically as it related to opposing the Ten Commandments monument.
“I’d like to take over leadership of the campaign,” Justin said as discussion rippled around him.
The conversation ceased and all eyes focused on him. Addison Langston, the group’s senior member, stroked his white beard.
“Are you sure you’re ready for that?” he asked in a gravelly voice. “And don’t take that as an insult—I’m not ready for it and I’m in my sixties.”
Justin met his gaze. “Do you have any particular concern with me?”
“Matt knew how to be civil and aggressive at the same time,” piped in Alexander Roberson, a decade younger than Langston but still twenty years Justin’s senior. Neither Roberson nor Langston relished speaking in front of people, though.
“You doubt I can be?” Justin countered.
“Well,” Langston started, “you’re bold. Articulate. I’m just afraid you might make this personal. And the church might spin your involvement in the case as sour grap
es.”
Ah yes, sour grapes. Many believers had asked who hurt Justin so much that he lost his faith. But they had the timeline wrong. Unbelief preceded the pain. After Justin decided he could no longer believe the tenets of the Christian faith he’d been brought up in, that’s when the pain really started: The pain of rejection. The pain of realizing his family’s love for him had always been conditional.
“What about Elizabeth McDonald?” Lisa Walters, a mother of two, asked. “She seems like an ideal candidate.”
Justin surprised the table of people by nodding. “I agree. She’s smarter than me and more composed than me. But she won’t do it.”
“Why not?” Walters asked.
“Well, for one, she’s grieving. But meetings like this aren’t her style. That’s why she never came when Matt was alive.”
Those last words caught in Justin’s throat. Still, he pressed on.
“Look, at this point we’re standing on the foundation Matt built. If the Ten Commandments monument gets passed, this becomes a legal issue, and we’ll need outside help to litigate it anyway.”
Langston nodded. “That’s true. I can contact the Freedom From Religious organization and update the situation. I’ve spoken with them before.”
“Good.” Justin folded his arms. “Don’t worry, when I’m in town hall, I’ll keep this a legal issue and won’t let it get personal.”
Roberson raised a graying eyebrow. “You qualified it.”
“I did?”
“Yes, you said when you were in town hall you’d keep it from getting personal. What about when you’re not in town hall?”
Justin shrugged. “I misspoke. I’ll keep it from getting personal wherever I go.”
Justin had already exacted a small measure of revenge. Though it didn’t satisfy him fully, for the sake of the cause, it would do for now. Unless the other side crossed the line. Then all bets were off.
13
Four Letter Words That Start With ‘F’
Hannah led Curt toward the back of the building. She smiled at him nervously a few times but said nothing. As anxious as Curt was, the experience must have been nerve-racking for Hannah, too. What would her friends say when she accompanied Curt into the group?
The carpet seemed to grow shabbier and more worn the further they progressed into the church. Bright fluorescent overhead lights cast everything in a harsh glow, though they failed to diminish Hannah’s natural beauty. They finally reached a back room filled with chatter. Hannah stepped in while Curt only peeked his head in.
The room had the same thin carpet as the hallway. The walls were painted a light blue and were adorned with various inspirational religious posters. Groups of people were scattered around the room, which might not have changed since the ‘90s. Most of the students looked like they were in high school and Curt probably could have identified fifty percent of them. However, Jake Ankiel and Samuel Wilson—along with some of their college cohorts—were also there.
Curt breathed in deep and followed Hannah inside. There was no record scratch when he entered, as there were too many independent conversations happening to all stop at once. One by one, eyes did focus on him, though. These were not welcoming stares, either. At best, people were curious or indifferent; at worst, expressions bordered on open hostility. Particularly in the case of Jake Ankiel and Samuel Wilson.
Curt began wishing he’d heeded Kate’s advice and brought back up. Maybe Greg or Tom. They would have put him at ease. The three could have pointed at the cheesy religious posters and shared a laugh. But then it would have become an us vs. them situation. Being alone forced Curt to play nice and immerse himself in this new subculture.
Hannah didn’t seem compelled to introduce him to people—not that he desired that. At one point, she moved away from him. It was only an inch and barely perceptible. Nevertheless, Curt wondered what that inch meant.
A fit man in his thirties with a neatly trimmed beard called everyone to attention. “Can we have a seat now, so we can get started?”
Everyone sat down. Hannah made sure to leave room for Curt on her right. Jane sat on her left. Curt smiled at the high school girl on his other side, whom he didn’t recognize from his school. Granted, she was a little younger, so he might not have known her even if she did hail from Beaumont.
The adult sat in a folding metal chair in front of the rows of students. “I see we have at least one visitor,” he said with a smile. He eyed Curt. “Would you mind introducing yourself to the group? Maybe give us a fun fact about yourself?”
“Uh, yeah, sure,” Curt said, leaning forward. “My name is Curt McDonald. I go to Beaumont High School and I’m a senior.”
He rubbed his hands together. What would constitute a fun fact? My dad just died. No, too depressing. I’m an atheist and think belief in the supernatural is a bunch of garbage. No, too provocative.
“Next fall, I’ll be going to Binghamton University.”
That tidbit didn’t reek of fun. But it was something.
“Okay, Curt. Thanks. Welcome. I’m Jeremy, and I’ve been running the group for two years now.”
Jeremy radiated genuine warmth. Besides Hannah—and she seemed pretty iffy at the moment—he was the only one who appeared to want Curt there. Maybe Jeremy’s friendliness stemmed from his sense of responsibility as the leader of the group. Although it was also possible he knew who Curt was and realized what a get the irreligious son of a prominent atheist activist could be for God. Christians love converted atheists. Curt knew this from watching religious testimony videos on YouTube. A lot of these conversions began with traumatic experiences, like losing your father. And a bunch involved males being led to Christ through attractive and nice females. Both dynamics were presently at work in Curt’s life.
“To get warmed up, why don’t we play a little game? Does everyone know how to play Scattegories?”
Curt had played that game plenty of times. There were twelve categories, such as states, cities, or sports teams, and players had to come up with a word beginning with a designated letter that fit each category.
“We’re going to play in groups of three or four,” Jeremy announced. “The categories are up on the whiteboard, and your letter is...F.”
Curt wound up on a team with Jane and Hannah, plus the mystery girl on his right. At first, Curt let Hannah and Jane do most of the work. The mystery girl said very little unless Hannah asked for her input specifically. Eventually, as they progressed through the list, Curt started to participate more.
Hannah read the next category off the board: “Okay, four-letter words.”
“Well, there is the obvious one,” Curt suggested.
“You can’t say that,” Hannah blurted out, blushing.
He raised an eyebrow. “What? I can’t say ‘face’? That’s weird.”
“Oh, I thought...I thought…nevermind,” said Hannah, scrawling down Curt’s suggestion.
“Oh, I know what you were thinking,” Curt said, wagging his finger at Hannah. “Geeze, get your mind out of the gutter, Hannah,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.
Even Jane smiled at that one.
Two categories from the end of the list, they hit Bible characters.
“Filistines?” Jane suggested.
“No, that starts with a ‘ph’,” Hannah said.
The three girls struggled to come up with an answer.
“I don’t think there are any biblical characters that start with an ‘f’,” Hannah said after another minute of consideration.
“Felix.”
Everyone stared at Curt.
“Felix,” he repeated.
“Who’s Felix?” Jane challenged.
“I think he’s a Roman official whom Paul appears before,” Curt replied.
Hannah continued to give him a questioning look.
“What? I’ve read the Bible before. Trust me, it’s in there. But if you can come up with a better answer, be my guest.”
No one could, meaning Felix it
was. In the end, Curt’s team placed second. They were the only team to come up with a correct answer for a bible character beginning with an ‘F’. Even Jeremy was stumped by that one and almost didn’t allow Felix, thinking it was made up. But a quick google search confirmed Curt had been right. He smiled triumphantly, giving Hannah a nudge on the arm.
“Okay, I’ve been asked by leadership to address the unfortunate situation that arose during last Sunday’s service,” Jeremy said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sure that many of you were deeply upset or confused by it.”
“What happened?” Curt asked in a whisper, leaning toward Hannah.
She frowned. “Someone put something bad on the screen during the sermon.”
“Something bad?”
Her cheeks turned red. “People having sex.”
Curt recoiled in surprise. “Like a porno?”
Hannah nodded. Her face was almost glowing in embarrassment now. If they’d turned out all the lights, her cheeks might have lit up the room.
Jeremy droned on, his own face exhibiting a high degree of discomfort toward this topic. He spoke about learning to control their urges and avoiding temptation. Most of his audience avoided eye contact; it seemed everyone just wanted him to stop.
“What kind of porn was it?” Curt asked quietly.
Hannah gave him a dirty look. “Why does it matter?”
“Just curious. Was it gay porn? Or lesbian porn? Or straight porn?”
“It was two women if you must know.” Hannah turned away from Curt in disgust.
Huh, he thought to himself. Curt wondered how that scene played out. If statistics were accurate, a reasonable number of people in Beaumont Baptist Church’s sanctuary that morning enjoyed partaking in porn. Actually, reviled themselves for partaking porn was a more accurate assessment.
Gradually, Curt’s thoughts shifted to another question. It seemed most of the kids there were wondering the same thing because someone voiced that very question.
“Who did this?” asked one mortified girl in the front.
Across the Western Sky Page 7
