Jesus Freaks: The Prodigal (Jesus Freaks #2)(19)

“Well, when can I get a chance to talk to her? Shouldn’t I be able to talk with her at some point before she returns—if she returns?” I lean against Eden’s bed and cross my arms in front of me.

“Of course,” Maggie assures. “The university will remain in contact with the Martinez family to receive updates on Joy’s treatment, and then we can schedule a time for peer counseling for the two of you—”

“Treatment?” Bridgette butts in. She never butts into anything, but this whole situation clearly has her on edge.

“She will be receiving counseling from her home pastor, but that’s all I know.” The way her eyes fall to the floor tells me that’s not all Maggie knows about Joy’s exit-plan from CU.

I move back to my bed and vow to finish my dinner before I stand again. It’s getting cold, and the last thing I need is mediocre comfort food. “When do I have to talk with the Dean of Students? Who is the Dean?”

“Hershel Baker is his name, and he said he’ll meet with you on Friday morning. I suggested to him that with the interview you’ve got tomorrow, along with settling back into classes this week, it might be wise to wait a few days.”

“Thank you.” My eyes meet Maggie’s and I find a motherly love staring back at me. She truly cares for her floor charges, and sometimes I feel like she works overtime to make me feel welcome.

She smiles, rising to her feet and moving to the door. “You’re welcome. Don’t forget to bring your food trash to the large bins at the end of the hall so your room doesn’t smell like a dumpster.” Instantly slipping back into practical RA-mode, Maggie offers one more smile before closing the door behind her.

“Bridgette,” I blurt out, watching her staring into space while Eden goes back to her dinner. “You know that this isn’t anyone’s fault, right?”

Shaking her head, she nearly whispers, “I know better.”

“About what?”

Her eyes flash to mine. “Being a good Christian friend. Supporting people. Had I taken a few minutes a day to connect with her—”

“No way, Bridge,” Eden cuts in. “There’s nothing we could have done. She comes—came—to Bible study with us, remember? And we always ask her to sit with us or go get coffee, or whatever.”

Bridgette maintains her soft denial-laden head shake while she puts on her coat. “No, it’s not whatever. There’s more we—I—could have done. There’s always more that can be done to save people from that kind of behavior.”

“I thought—” I start, but Bridgette raises her hand, cutting me off. With a smile, though.

“Ladies, please. I need to take a walk and think about all of this.”

“You’ve got half an hour before you’ve got to be back,” Eden offers plainly.

Bridgette nods, opening the door. “I know. Thank you.”

Once the door closes, I wait a few seconds before speaking again, trying to organize my thoughts.

“Eden?”

She chews some awful-smelling pork dish. “Yeah?”

“I thought. I thought, like, Jesus was the only one who can save people. Eternally and from … stuff.” I know, logically, that those who believe in Jesus are called to be his hands and feet, and while I’m still trying to organize the implications of that, I get the basic meaning.

Eden grins. “Yeah, basically. If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Bridgette so far this semester, it’s that girl has one massive savior complex.”

It’s the closest thing to gossip I’ve heard from my beauty-queen roommate. “Is that a … bad thing? I mean, aren’t we all supposed to be like Jesus?”

Eden stuffs her empty containers into the take-out plastic bag, and walks to me, holding it open so I can toss mine in. “Like Jesus,” she seems to repeat.

“Yeah …” I prompt.

Eden puts her hand on the door, the trash from our less-than-comforting food in her hands. “We’re supposed to try to be like Jesus. Not be Jesus. The position’s been filled. It’s a fine line to walk, and some of us have …” she trails off, taking a deep breath.

“Have what.”

“Some of us have an easier time separating the two. Bridgette and Silas, though? Sometimes I think their sheltered upbringing has left them unprepared in some ways. I know Bridgette is quieter than Silas, but she’s just as fervent. Thinking about those who are unsaved keeps her up at night sometimes, Kennedy.”

I huff through my nose, but suddenly it dawns on me like a black sun. “Do you think it was the same way with Joy?”

Eden tilts her head to the side, knowingly. “Yes.”

“And that’s why Bridgette is so inside-out about all of it? She somehow looked up to Joy’s intensity and sees where it can lead?”

Eden shrugs, opening the door. “I think we need to spend a lot of time praying for Bridgette. And with her. She’s scared, Kennedy. That I do know.”

In the span of a couple of seconds, I’m alone in my room for the first time since I left it Friday morning. When everything was still relatively normal. Now I’m officially Roland’s kid, Joy has gone MIA, and my Jesus-loving, sweet-as-pie roommate is falling apart on the inside.

And tomorrow morning I’ll be on live national television.