Jesus Freaks: Sins of the Father(32)

“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 look 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.