Jesus Freaks: Sins of the Father(48)

I shrug. “He was beefy big. Like, looked like a football player. A good four inches taller than the other two.”

“Wells,” they say in unison.

“But the other one was encouraging him,” I add.

Eden sits at her desk. “Matt Wells—the beefy one—is a football player. He’s from Georgia, or Alabama, or something like that. CU gave him a full ride for their football team. I don’t even know if he’s a Christian. Or anything, really.”

Ah, one of the fabled athletes that attend CU without having to go through the regular application process, as described to me by Maggie several weeks ago. They don’t need to be Christian, technically. But they have to agree to uphold the same code of conduct the rest of us are subjected to.

“Silas says he really pushes everyone’s buttons, like this is all some joke to him.” She looks a little less wounded than her words would suggest.

“Doesn’t he get the same demerits we all do?” I question.

“He knows just the buttons to push,” Eden pipes in. “Sure he gets demerits, I’m guessing. But there’s no way CU is going to kick him out. He’s too valuable to the team, from what I hear. I mean, unless he starts having sex and throwing parties in his room, I’m guessing CU is stuck with him.”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute…” I wave my finger in disapproval. “You guys are acting like he was the only one there. The other kid—John—was laughing, too.”

“Was Jonah?” Eden asks with a fresh wave of childlike optimism in her eyes.

“Of course he was.” I chuckle. “He laughed for, like, a second. Then he saw me looking at them and he put his head down. Then apologized later.”

“Right,” Bridgette says. “He apologized while the other two hightailed it, right?”

“Who’s this John Stevens?” I ask, groping around to make my point that God kids aren’t perfect.

Eden takes a deep breath. “He’s a PK from a few towns away.”

Preacher’s Kid.

“See?” I say with the enthusiasm of an attorney winning their case. “Even he’s not perfect.”

Bridgette laughs. “No one said anyone was perfect, Kennedy. It’s just that Matt is kind of…difficult. Silas said he and Jonah have been trying to hang out with him more to calm him down a little so he doesn’t get kicked out.”

“Why wouldn’t they want someone who does stuff like that out of their hair?” I sit on my bed, leaning back on my hands. I think of all the jock-jerks I didn’t hang out with in high school for precisely that reason.

Eden shrugs. “They just want to give him a chance to do better, I guess. To show him a better way. We can’t spread the word of Jesus by only talking about it with people who already believe.”

I nod. A month ago that statement would have either offended me or not made much sense. I get it now, and passively wonder if that’s how Bridgette and Eden view me. Someone to set an example for. Again, a thought that would have incensed me a month ago doesn’t bother me at all now. Whether that’s what they did/are doing, I don’t care. I know that I’m on a journey and need all the help I can get.

“How do you two know so much about what’s going on with the guys?” I ask. “Just from Silas?” Apart from classes and meals, I haven’t heard of much co-mingling happening.

“The Bible study group,” Bridgette answers matter-of-factly.

“The what?” I respond, eyeing both of them curiously.

Bridgette retrieves a sheet of paper from her desk drawer. “Flyers all over campus. They’re on Saturday nights and you work then.”

Now that I think about it, I guess my “put your head down and get through the year” mentality has left me at a social disadvantage. One I didn’t think I’d care about, but now I do.

“Does Matt Wells go to this Bible study?” My wheels are turning slowly now.

Eden shakes her head. “No. We’d like him to, though. The guys have asked him a couple of times, but they don’t want to be pushy.”

I take a deep breath. “I’ll talk with my boss, Asher, and see if I can come in an hour earlier on Saturdays so I can leave in time to join the Bible study.”

“Really?” Bridgette’s face lights up.

I nod. “After all, I want my relationship with God to be more than good enough, right? I can’t get that out of my head since you said it, Bridge.”

It’s not a lie. Despite my cynicism when she said it, she was right. Is right. I want my relationship with God to be more than good enough. I want it to be more than a part of my life. All of my friends and classmates are always asking God to fill them and to guide their will. They might be onto something.

Bridgette’s face doesn’t look as relieved as I expected it to be.

“Kennedy,” she says softly, “I didn’t mean it in offense…”

“Oh!” I walk over to Bridgette and grip her upper arms, pouring as much sincerity into my gaze as I can. “I didn’t take it as offense. Well, I did when you first said it, but not now. Not only do I want my relationship with God to be more than good enough, I want it to be a relationship.”

A firm rapping on the door interrupts our moment. “Knock knock!”