Jesus Freaks: Sins of the Father(8)

“If you’ve read Not a Fan, then you have to read Follow Me next. It’s, like, bringing me to this deep place in my faith that I didn’t even know existed.”

“Have you heard Rand Collective’s new song? Brilliant, right?”

“Man, I hope God chooses her for me.”

The last one is said in the quietest whisper, and I only hear it because whoever said it did so just as my roommates and I walked past. I’m certain they’re asking about Eden, since she blushes, but it’s the strangest thing. The guy who said it is blushing just as much—his head down and his friends looking anywhere but at us. It’s like he really didn’t intend for Eden to hear him. I chalk this up to the biggest social difference between students here and those at any other university I applied to: relations with the opposite sex.

Rules are strict here—as they are at most other evangelical universities—regarding such relations. Couples are not permitted to kiss on the mouth or do any sort of intimate touching on or off campus. Hand holding is the maximum skin contact, and the kiss on the cheek needs to be discreet and respectful of each person and everyone around. Whatever that means.

We aren’t even allowed to go off campus with members of the opposite sex unless a bizarre set of requirements are met. For instance, according to the student handbook, if I want to go with a boy to dinner, we need to have a chaperone with us.

I’m serious.

Further, if groups of friends want to go out, they’re “strongly encouraged” to have an odd number. So, three boys and two girls, or two boys and three girls—you get the idea—I imagine to discourage that evil “pairing off” thing young people tend to do. The whole thing left my head spinning, honestly, and I decided before I got here that I was going to avoid the whole dating situation all together.

Maybe that’s their goal.

Once Bridgette, Eden, and I fill our plates from the salad bar, Bridgette directs us to a table smack in the center of the dining hall.

“Here’s Silas,” she calls over her shoulder as we reach a table that clearly holds her twin.

He’s the only redhead at the table, with has freckles across his face and arms. I watch closely to ensure she was speaking about this boy as her twin. When she gives him a family-like side hug, it’s confirmed. I love when twins don’t look alike. I know fraternal twins have as much genetic similarity as other siblings, but I still like it. I don’t bring up genetics, though, unsure what the scientific temperature at the table is.

I mean, they believe in genes. Right?

“Hey, guys,” Silas calls to the end of the table, “move down to make room for the ladies.”

“Gladly,” one of them murmurs from the end of the table, causing chuckles to erupt around him.

Eden and Bridgette shake their heads and sit. Bridgette sits next to her brother, and Eden and I sit across from them. Thankfully I only have a stranger on one side of me.

“Shh!” Silas commands, and the table listens. “I’m sure none of us want to start out with demerits before the semester even gets underway.”

The table goes startlingly silent.

Ah, yes. Demerits.

Remember all of the rules from the student handbook? Failure to follow them comes with its own disciplinary system. It isn’t three strikes and you’re out like at many other schools. In some ways, this is like God’s own little military school. Infractions are rated according to their severity and have demerits attached.

Minor offenses carry 5-20 demerits a piece, and include things like not following the dress code, being late for activities, or failing to check in and out of campus or wherever it is you need to be.

Major offenses will earn you 50-150 demerits each, and range from immoral or sacrilegious behavior—which includes failure to follow the dating protocols—to theft, profanity, drinking, and smoking.

Yep. Smoking.

Now, I’m not a smoker, and I’ve only tried about three cigarettes in my life, but reading that kind of made me want to buy a pack.

I wouldn’t dare, though, because earning 75 demerits puts you on all kinds of restrictions ranging from not being able to participate in activities to losing leadership positions. Earning that many demerits for two semesters in a row will put you in the running for not being invited back for the next semester. They basically give you a semester to get your act together.

For God.

Either way, given I’m fairly certain my mouth is going to get me into enough trouble as it is, I plan to follow every rule to the T. Soon there will be enough to make me stand out without my unintentional quest to win the most demerits. There are offenses that will cause one to be suspended immediately, but given the fact I don’t intend to drink or engage in a major moral failure, I give myself a break from thinking about them.

“Silas,” Bridgette pipes up, “these are my roommates, Eden and Kennedy.”

Silas sets down his fork, wipes his mouth and hands with a napkin, and extends his hand across the table with a broad smile. “Eden, it’s a pleasure. Kennedy.”

I shake his hand and feel myself smiling. He didn’t grunt a passive, “hey,” between forkfuls of mashed potatoes. He stopped what he was doing and looked me in the eye before giving a firm handshake. If the Stepford wives had Christian brothers, he would be one of them.

I stare at him for a moment longer. His posture is impeccable, his jaw is geometry’s dream of a square, and not a hair is out of place. Really, he looks like my gay neighbor from back home, though that’s a comparison I’ll definitely be keeping to myself. Forever.