Jesus Freaks: Sins of the Father(35)

Demerits.

“Can I plead insanity?” I lift my eyebrows and hold back a laugh until I watch Maggie stifle one of her own. “I know I shouldn’t have called her insane.”

“No, you shouldn’t have. But I can’t really write you up for that.”

I give a nice, long exhale. “You can’t? What are those for then?” I ask, gesturing to the papers she’s writing on.

“As you can imagine, Joy was quite upset. But I explained the rules to her and offered a concession.”

“A lesser sentence?” I ask hopefully.

Maggie chuckles. “Yes. I told her I would write you up for not checking out before you left campus. And that I wouldn’t write her up for the same exact offense.”

Oddly, this is satisfying. We all screwed up just a little bit in our effort to leave campus for the first time. Even Joy. Knowing that she’s not perfect fills me with slightly more gratification than I’m comfortable with.

Maggie separates the demerit sheet into its three parts. The white copy goes to the school’s disciplinary office, yellow stays with Maggie, and I am now the proud owner of my very own pink copy. I fold it and shove it in my pocket with a satisfied sigh.

“Pockets,” I say in my exhale.

Maggie laughs, then takes a seat next to me again. “Joy also happened to mention that you were going to apply for a job at the coffee shop?”

“Of course she did.”

Maggie shakes her head slightly. “Are you sure you’re ready for that?”

I scrunch my face and look at her. “Are you serious? Maggie—”

“I don’t mean it in the way you think I mean. I know you’ve spent your life free of the rules that govern this place. What I mean is, do you think you’re ready to live in both worlds and be able to adhere to the standards here? Sometimes for kids that are more secular, like I was when I first got here, having some of both places seems like a good idea, until the secular bleeds into your school life more than the other way around.”

I sigh, frustrated with the conversation already. “I don’t intend on having wild sex during my breaks at work, if that’s what you mean.”

Maggie’s face twists up like she’s sucked on a lime. “Kennedy…”

“I’m sorry.” I put up my hand. “I’m sorry. I am. No, I don’t think it will be a problem and, yes, I think I can handle it.”

She places her hand on my knee and gives it a gentle squeeze. “Just… Please come talk to me. Any time. In fact, I’d like to set up a weekly meeting time with you. To make sure you’re adjusting okay and to kind of check in.” She rises again and fetches her planner off her desk.

“Are you serious?” I feel like I’m in the principal’s office.

Maggie’s bright smile returns. “Mmm hmm. It’s part of our job, actually. We’re supposed to check in regularly with our floor.”

“Weekly? Or am I just special?” I sound rude.

Maggie sets her planner on her lap when she sits again. “I don’t want you to feel defensive. I’m on your side, you know. I’m thrilled you’re here. It’s been a long time since I’ve met someone on this campus who hasn’t grown up in this lifestyle, let alone one who seems to be willing to give it a real shot like you are.”

I’ve heard rumors that there are people out there on campus who are like me—some who aren’t even Christian at all. There are students here at Carter University who won’t ever go on a mission trip, will never hand someone a “Get Out of Hell Free” card, and who don’t necessarily believe in God. Some of them are athletes who want to play sports at the college level, and this was their best shot at lots of playing time. Others are local residents who want a decent education at a low cost. This is the place for them. I’ve heard they exist, much the way people hear billionaires exist. I haven’t met one, but I know they’re out there.

I clear my throat. “If we meet, can you teach me things?”

“Like what?”

“How to be…socially appropriate? I need a church kid social boot camp,” I admit.

Maggie laughs, flipping to a calendar spread in her planner. “Just because you asked that way, yes, I will. Honestly, I wish I had that when I was here. I had to be put on probation my second semester before I got a clue.”

“Really?” I gasp.

“Yep, really. My first semester I kept my t’s crossed and my i’s dotted. I applied every rule and regulation to myself that I could, even beyond the school rules. I didn’t want to step out of bounds even for a second.”

I get where she’s going with this, given my new habit of isolating and studying the rules and then studying them again. “What happened?”

“I snapped,” she admits, laying her calendar in front of me and gesturing to a day she has open. I nod and she scribbles my name in for Wednesday evenings at nine. She knows I’ll be in the dorm by then, since that’s our curfew on school nights.

“It was quite a sight,” she continues. “We had to give an oral report in our New Testament class. It was open-ended. We had to give a speech on a current social issue as if we were Jesus speaking on the topic.”

“Fancy,” I blurt out, rolling my eyes.