Jesus Freaks: Sins of the Father(72)

“Sex aside,” Joy nearly purrs. “Your relationship with Pastor Roland Abbot is clearly inappropriate and needs the attention of this school and the congregation at New Life.”

No. Roland can’t lose his job. Not over this. Not when there’s a simple answer.

Simple my ass.

God, please help me. Please.

I take a deep breath and open my mouth, my eyes unwavering from Joy’s stupid face. “You’re right,” I start. “Pastor Roland and I do have a relationship. But it’s not what you think.”

Joy places her hands on her tiny, insignificant hips and cocks her head to the side. “Well, I can’t wait to hear your explanation.”

Just loud enough for everyone to hear, I say in the sharpest tone I have in me, “He’s my father.”

A collective gasp sucks the air from the room. Joy’s eyes widen and then her face turns white, though her eyes still retain traces of venom.

I put my head down and run for the nearest exit, which dumps me out onto an open field at the topmost point of the hill on which CU sits. When the door closes behind me, I let out a bloodcurdling scream and start running.

It’s pouring. For the first day since I’ve been on campus, rain lets go from the clouds in impressive buckets. The cold November rain has me soaked in seconds. My bones feel the chill instantly.

“Kennedy!” Matt’s gravelly voice shouts above the deafening rain. It competes with the thunder that’s just started up.

I don’t turn around, and I don’t know where I’m running. Just away. I probably should call Roland, or my mom, or both, but all I can focus on right now is getting as far away from Mission Hall as possible.

“Agh! Would you stop?!” He catches up to me and forcefully grips my shoulders, spinning me around.

“You knew!” I scream, facing him with sheets of water coming down between us. “You f*cking knew Roland is my father!” Slamming my fists against his chest, I’m grateful for the release the profanity is providing me in this instant. I have control over nothing right now except my words. And I’m using whichever ones I please.

“Yeah, I knew,” he shouts back. “So?”

I hold my hands out. “So? So?!”

“What was I supposed to do, Kennedy?” His eyes are fierce as he retains his grip on me.

“Say something, maybe? Help me…I don’t know.” Lightning brightens the sky and a startling crack of thunder causes me to jump. From the corner of my eye, I can see a small drove of students leaving the dining hall and heading in our direction.

Matt sees them, too, and takes my hand. “Come with me.”

“Fuck off.” I pull my hand back, an action made easier by my soaking wet hand.

“Take it easy, Potty Mouth,” he tries to tease, but is still yelling. “I’m helping you now. Take it. Trust me.”

“Trust you? Oh, that’s rich.”

Matt sighs and shakes his head. “I didn’t want to have to do this…”

“Do wha—” In one swift motion, Matt hoists me over his shoulder. “Matt! Stop! Put me down!”

Matt says nothing, but picks up his pace until he’s in nearly a run for the dorms. I feel like some prop used at football practice. You know, the ones the guys push across the field—only I’m being carried. And he doesn’t put me down until we’re standing in front of a door inside Matt’s dorm.

“Oh, perfect. The boys’ dorm. What’s a few more demerits at this point?” My teeth start to chatter and I wrap my arms around my body. It’s no comfort—everything is soaked.

Not really the baptism I’d planned, frankly.

“Just…shh.” Matt knocks on the door in front of us, which I take to be his RA’s door, given it’s in the same placement in the hall that Maggie’s is in ours. “Jack, it’s Matt. Open up if you’re in there.”

A second later, the door opens. Jack looks at Matt, then at me, and then back at Matt, who rolls his eyes.

“I know, I know,” Matt says in a huff. “Let us in and we’ll explain.”

“Can’t wait,” Jack grins through his reply. It seems he’s well versed in the inner workings of Matt. “Who’s your RA?” he directs to me.

“Maggie,” I say, voice shaking through my frozen throat.

I walk in and am offered the desk chair. Matt says he’ll be back in a minute, and returns exactly forty-five seconds of silence later with sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt.

“Here.” He dumps them on my lap.

“K…I, uh…where?”

Matt and Jack look at each other in a moment of silent conversation before Jack turns to me and speaks.

“We’ll wait in the hallway while you change,” he says.

Once the door clicks, I peel my drenched clothes off my body and revel in the warmth of Matt’s soft cotton sweats. I have to roll the waistband over twice, and the bottom of the pants up three times, but they’ll do. And his shirt, while clean, smells just like him. A fact I’m alarmed I know. It smells like a combination of some Armani cologne I’m vaguely familiar with and Tide Sport laundry detergent.

“Okay,” I call after one more deep inhale of his CU Football shirt. “I’m ready.”