Jesus Freaks: Sins of the Father(76)

“Well,” Roland takes a deep breath, “we need to come off the property at some point. The good news is Thanksgiving break is next week, and then school is only in session for three more weeks after that before winter break. So everyone thinks we should just make a joint statement and try to make it through till the end of the semester with as little commotion as possible.”

I laugh. Hard. It’s completely appropriate but, honestly, it’s the most absurd thing I’ve heard in a while.

“Seriously?” I barely squeak out between the laughter. “That’s the plan?”

Roland chuckles nervously. “Do you have…something better?”

“Anything. Anything is better than that. This story, as big as it already seems to be, won’t die down just by us ignoring it. And we certainly can’t ignore it for the next month. Here. Look.” I open the Facebook app on my phone and hand it to Roland, allowing him to scroll through my page.

“I know,” he mumbles without looking. “I’ve seen it. Jahara told me not to respond to any of the comments.”

“Well, that I agree with.” I stand and walk back inside, Roland trailing me by a few paces.

Before I say anything else, Jahara waves her cell phone in the air. “And that, guys, was The Today Show.”

“Shooooot,” Matt sounds out slowly. I know he was dying to say the other word.

“What’d you tell them?” I ask.

Jahara eyes me curiously. It’s the first thing I’ve said to her since she showed up. “That we’d be in touch.”

I turn to Roland. “Let’s do it.”

His eyes widen. “Kennedy…”

“Go big or go home is what I always say.” I’ve never once in my life said that. “Look what school I’m at, for the love of…” I trail off, sensing the elder church members staring at the back of my head. “My point is, let’s cut out all the middle men and go national from the get go. I can’t believe they’ll do more than send a reporter out here for a filler piece.”

“Actually,” Jahara steps in, “they want you in New York. A headline interview.”

My eyes shoot to Matt, who is engaged in a heavy exhale that puffs out his cheeks. “Fantastic,” I mumble. “Why is this so big? What is the big deal?”

Everyone goes to answer at once, but Matt’s deep voice bellows over them all. “If I may…” he trails off until everyone quiets down. “I think I can best fill Kennedy in on what the big deal is.” He puts air quotes around my phrase. “Roland, can I take her to your office and use your computer?”

Roland nods. “I’ll work with Jahara on preparing a statement to go out to the New Life congregation. They’re the ones I have to answer to. Then we’ll produce something for Carter.”

I follow Matt back into Roland’s office, looking over my shoulder to see Roland diving into business mode, preparing a statement to be delivered to his congregation. I wonder if they’ll be forgiving regarding his omission of my identity—even as I sat among them most Sundays over the last couple of months. Regardless of my emotional issues with Roland, I never intended to negatively affect his career.

“Okay,” Matt says, opening Roland’s laptop. “Here’s the big deal.”

Over the next forty-five minutes, Matt leads me to blog after blog in the teenage evangelical community. I don’t know how I never stumbled upon these in my prep for coming to CU. They’re filled with amazing entries of young people on a journey to Christ and the roadblocks they face along the way.

It’s not the blogs themselves that have Matt so interested. It’s that every single one of them has more than one post on Roland. Since his rise to national fame, adolescents for Jesus all over the country have expressed either their excitement or nervousness about a relatable man of God, one who seemed more like their friend than fire and brimstone preacher. Once Roland started preaching on me, however, the posts looked more like detective blogs.

Posts spanning the last four years highlight great speculation over my identity and even my existence.

What if he’s making this all up for ratings?

Where is this so-called kid of his? Why can’t she be seen?

What if she hates him and she’s a drug-using stripper?

“Charming,” I muse about the last entry.

“They’re not all bad,” Matt assures.

He leads me, finally, to a slew of bloggers who support my anonymity. A lot of them are Preachers’ Kids who wrote about how they wished they could stay nameless and faceless in their own communities, let alone on a national stage.

“Leave Baby Abbot Alone” is the title of one post that makes me feel weird, given that’s not my real last name.

Another begs to keep my identity a secret with the headline “Don’t Out Her!”

“What’s the big deal with being a PK?” I ask Matt, who I recently learned is the carrier of such a title. “I thought it was kind of a badge of honor, or bragging, or something?”

Matt growls and runs his hand over his face a couple of times before closing Roland’s laptop. “That’s what everyone on the outside thinks. Like it makes us some teacher’s pet for God or something.”

“Doesn’t it?” I ask, trying to take the attention off of me for a moment.