Jesus Freaks: Sins of the Father(57)

“Well. Seems our reputations have preceded us.” I’m fighting to ignore the heat in my cheeks. I don’t know how he knows my name. I’m certain we’re not in any of the same classes. And, even if we were, I keep a low profile in classes, not raising my hand much.

He shrugs. “I guess so.” He sets the burger down and leans back in his chair. “What’s up?”

Eyeing him, I’m relieved to see that, up close, he looks like every guy I went to high school with. Well, every jock guy I went to high school with. I’m sure his broad shoulders serve well whatever position he plays in football, and thick forearms make him look kind of like a giant in this dining hall. His hair is cut high and tight, like a Marine’s almost. Most notably, he doesn’t have the fresh faced, tender-footed look of most of the other guys around here. He looks like the kind of guy who swears, probably drinks, and has most definitely had sex. The problem, though, is my friends all think the same thing about him. And view it as kind of a liability. As if he’s some lost cause.

“I’d like you to come to Bible study with me tomorrow night.” When the words settle in his brain, Matt lets out a bellowing laugh that turns almost every head in our direction.

“Shh!” I chuckle. “It’s not funny.”

“Yes it is,” he says through laughter, wiping under his eyes. “I heard you were kind of out there, but this seals the deal.”

“I beg your pardon? Out there?” I’m instantly offended. “Who told you I was out there?”

Matt waves his hand and dives into his burger again, making sure not to speak until his mouth is brimming with food. “Look…” he swallows and continues, “if I don’t go to the Bible study with the team, I’m certainly not going to go with anyone else.”

I pull in my eyebrows and lean forward. “Who told you I was out there?”

“Strike a nerve?” He arches a thick eyebrow and grins.

“If it was Joy, I don’t care. But if it was someone else, tell me. Come on, we’re on the same team.” I pull out a mild sports analogy.

“What team is that?” he asks smugly.

“The normal people,” I whisper, less because I believe it, but I need him to believe me.

“Why are you here?” He takes a deep breath and leans forward.

“Here?”

“Carter.”

I’ve made it this far in the school year without anyone asking me directly why I’m here. If Matt really is on Team Normal, he won’t let me gloss this over.

I offer a mischievous grin. “I was tired of expectations. Valedictorians are supposed to go to Harvard, not Bible U.” As true as this statement might be, it doesn’t apply to me, though if Matt buys it, I’ll have to start using it.”

“Silas.” Matt blurts out after a few seconds of consideration. “He said he thinks you’re kind of liberal.”

I laugh. My cheeks hurt and I’m doubled over. Of course it was Silas. Poor, sweet Silas. I’m not mad at all. I mean, come on, I tried to get his sister to get her nose pierced. It probably scarred poor Silas for life.

“I’m guessing you’re not offended,” Matt asks wryly.

I shake my head. “Not at all.”

“What’s up Joy’s ass, anyway?”

“Matt!” My laugh is replaced by a high-pitched squeal.

He waves his hand again. “Look around, we’re the only ones for miles.”

I do as he asks, and realize that not only are we the only ones at this table, but we’re being watched with relative scrutiny by those nearby.

“Maybe they think we’re together,” Matt says.

I roll my eyes. “We better hurry up, then, before the chaperone police come after us.” It feels good to joke without fear of judgment. “Will you come with me on Saturday or not?”

“Why?” His voice is challenging, but his face seems humored.

I shrug. “Maybe you can learn something. Maybe you can keep yourself from getting kicked out of school. Maybe you can keep playing college football.”

“They won’t kick me out of here, Kennedy. They practically begged me to come.”

I stand, grabbing my tray. “And you don’t think there aren’t a thousand other Matt Wells’ out there who are missing out on their glory days and would give anything to play college ball?” I shrug and turn for the trashcan.

As the remainder of my salad hits the trashcan, I hear Matt’s fist pound the table we were sitting at.

Bingo.

If there’s one thing I know about “normal” guys, is that their ego precedes them and is as fragile as a newborn. Poke a hole in it and they’re all yours. They rest all their confidence in themselves and their abilities. Sure, it may have been cruel of me to play on his weakness, but it’s not my fault he’s not putting God first.

Would you listen to yourself?

I don’t turn around, because I can hear him walking up behind me.

“I’ll come,” he says, tossing his empty plate into the bin. “Just once.”

“Three times,” I counter. “You don’t know if you like something unless you do it more than twice.”

His eyebrow twitches and a dark grin forms on his mouth.