Jesus Freaks: Sins of the Father(71)

Are you?

No.

“Thank you, though,” Eden adds when I sink back into my chair. “We didn’t know how to talk to them when they got angry and—”

“Seems to me you weren’t trying to talk to them at all,” I cut in.

“What are we supposed to do?” Silas asks, getting angry. “No one seems to listen unless you shove something awful in their face.

I shrug, standing. “They listened to me, didn’t they?”

The group follows me, inexplicably, out of Word and onto the sidewalk.

“Yeah,” Jonah counters, waving his hand in my direction as he catches up to me. “Because you looked like them.”

A burst of laughter surges through my chest and flies out of my mouth. Everyone at the table—including Matt—looks confused.

“What?” Bridgette asks, as we move toward the door.

“It’s what God did, right?”

“What’s that?” Silas snaps snarkily.

Reaching the bus stop, I turn to face them. “We weren’t listening, so he dressed up like one of us to get our attention. Like a human,” I prompt. “Jesus.”

They all seem to freeze on the spot, looking down as if considering my words. Really thinking about them. For the first time since I set foot on campus, I’ve managed to get the attention of my friends in a way they understand. Not by my dress or my attitude. But by speaking Jesus.

Matt grins, placing his hand on the small of my back while we ascend the steps of the bus back to campus. Everyone else is silent for the ride back, but I feel their eyes on me in measured intervals. I can’t look at any of them. My own actions and words over the last couple hours are as foreign to me as they seem to be to them.

“I’m starving,” I say when we get off the bus in the center of campus. I didn’t finish my lunch, after all.

“Me, too,” Matt echoes. “Didn’t really eat lunch.” He winks, seeming to board my wavelength.

“We’ll come, too,” Jonah speaks up, trailing just behind Matt and me.

It’s raining softly, so we make it to the dining hall quickly. Mission Hall seems oddly busy for this early dinner time. Sometimes I’m able to sneak dinner here quietly at this hour, but this evening it seems like the entire campus is there as we approach the door.

Before I can put my hand on the handle, someone opens it and speaks directly to me. “Are you Kennedy Sawyer?” he asks, seemingly out of breath.

I nod, wondering if the events from Planned Parenthood have already made their way back to campus, even though there wasn’t anything to get this worked up over.

He eyes me seriously and shoves a flyer in my face. Holding it a few inches in front of me, I see a picture of me and Roland hugging downtown after a run. The text beneath it reads, SECRET AFFAIR.

Holy. Shit.





CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO


Write Your Story


“Is this you?” The intense student points to the very crisp picture of Roland and I locked in an embrace.

I look just below the picture and find three smaller pictures that show us walking, talking at the coffee shop, talking on campus and, finally, walking out of his house.

My heart races, but I nod anyway, pushing myself into the crowd at Mission Hall.

“Excuse me,” I yell, snatching the flyers from disembodied hands. “Excuse me!” I’m searching for the source of the handout.

“Oh my…Kennedy?” Eden calls after me, but I ignore her. I ignore all of them.

My ears are ringing in rage and panic and I suck in my bottom lip. Shit. My lip ring is still in and, for once, I don’t care. I need it.

I reach the center of the cafeteria, where a table is stacked with what looks to be hundreds of the same exact flyer, my supposed sin splashed all over it. With the same look she had on her face that day at the coffee shop, Joy is distributing the papers at a rapid rate.

“Take a look at who is spiritually guiding us! A man who is having an affair with a student. See who CU accepts as students?” She points to my face as she says it.

A scream rumbles through me as I pull my hands back and push her with what could very well be all my might. “You bitch!” I scream at the top of my lungs.

Silence.

Silence so loud I want to cover my ears and duck under the table. My shoulders are rising with each erratic breath I take, and I’m barely conscious of Matt, who is behind me, reaching for my arm. I shake him off.

“You. Bitch,” I reiterate, in case any of these virgin ears didn’t hear me. Demerits can go screw themselves.

Joy lifts her chin in bitch defiance. “Well, here she is now. The harlot herself. The one who walks around here like she’s better than all of us but who is sleeping with New Life’s pastor.”

“Joy,” Matt growls as an apparent warning.

She’s unaffected. Her eyes widen. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is she sleeping with you, too?”

I put my hand up, stopping anything Matt is going to say next.

“You’ve lost your damn mind,” I spit out. I hate defending myself, but it’s beyond necessary at this point.

Only, I don’t know how far I’ll have to go. I don’t know where Roland is. And I don’t know if I wish he was here or not. My hand is forced in the most public way. More than if I’d let him just introduce me during a sermon. Staring at every face at once, I feel the scarlet letter forming. Burning on my chest.