Jesus Freaks: The Prodigal (Jesus Freaks #2)(25)

Matt’s idea seems to be working. We got to class just before it started, sparing me from most of the gawking that would have been done had I been the first in the room and everyone else had to file past me. Instead, we just slipped into the back row—Matt on one side of me and Eden on the other. Jonah, of course, is on her other side.

Titling my head forward slightly, I catch a glimpse of the young lovebirds holding hands. They’ll do so until the bell rings, and then it’s strictly down to business. No hanky-panky while discussing the Book of Daniel. I think Jesus said that.

Despite my personal jokes, I can’t wait to get back to being CU-normal again. I’m dying to know what, if anything, is new in the land of Jonah and Eden. It’s doubtful, though, because the heavily restricted physical contact makes for less to giggle about after date night. That’s actually kind of a lie. If there’s one not-so-obvious benefit to the lag-time in reaching second base and beyond, it’s that couples here learn things about each other. Like about each other. They’re favorite prayers, and how they handle stress and anger. Not the birthmark on the hip just inside the panty line. Not the ticklish spot on the upper, inner thigh. None of that.

Before my exile to the New Life estate last week, Eden regaled Bridgette and me with tales of deep discussions she and Jonah have been having over lunch, phone calls as they walk to class on the opposite ends of campus, and texts long after lights have been turned out for the night. While they certainly spent some time discussing Bible stuff, most of their discussions revolved around mission work they each wanted to do this year or in the coming years. Stories from their childhoods that they didn’t already know after spending years together at summer camp and issues they’re having with their families at home fill the spaces where Trent and I were busy making out and the minutes I spent slapping his hands away from my panties.

Admittedly, the bit about family issues piqued my interest, as I sensed a strong discomfort between Jonah and his dad during Parents’ Weekend. I didn’t ask any follow-up questions at the time, because I was still pretending I was only “pretty good acquaintances” with my roommates, rather than the true friends I need.

It’s time for follow-up. Not just to satisfy my curiosity, but to get to know them. The way they know each other, in ways I only know a few people. Especially boys.

“Dreams,” the professor’s bellowing, melodramatic voice commands my attention. “The Bible is drenched in dreams, and their interpretations. From the Old Testament through the Book of Revelation, God makes it clear that he often seeks people out in slumber. When their conscious mind might otherwise ignore or rationalize the voice of God as something else, God sneaks in the back door sometimes. When you can’t ignore him. Not only did God give people the gift of prophetic dreams, but he has given others the gift of interpretation. Sometimes they go hand-in-hand, but not always. That’s why, like in the Book of Daniel here, we see someone dreaming, and someone interpreting. And of course, the consequences of both.”

Dreams.

As my friends scribble down notes, cross-referencing with their Bibles, I’m thrown into the pit of a flashback of one of my own dreams. One from just a little over a week ago—though it seems much further back. I dreamt that Matt and Jonah were in the University Chapel—UC—with holes in their hands and blood coming from their foreheads, covering their faces. I haven’t told anyone about that dream, but I need to. Holes in their hands and blood on their faces is obviously some sort of reference to Jesus. One I may not have caught onto if this dream happened even six months ago. Now, though, it freaks me out on another level.

Do I think Jonah and Matt are going to be sacrificed for something? Do they have a “savior complex”, the term Eden used to refer to Bridgette? Or, do I think they’re so perfect and I’m left to stand at their feet with their blood splashing around me?

“Ms. Sawyer?” Professor Towne’s annoyed voice, paired with receiving dual elbows to the side from Matt and Eden, tell me I’ve been gone in my own thoughts for too long.

I clear my throat. “Yes?” Sitting up straight, I watch half the heads in the classroom turn back my way. Carefully eyeing my lack of attention.

“I’m aware, Ms. Sawyer,” Towne draws out in his syrupy-thick southern accent, “that you’ve had an unusual few days. This does not preclude you from active participation in your classes.” He lowers his nose, peering up at me from his bifocals. “Regardless of who your father is.”

Matt hisses a noise that sounds like a mixture of “ass” and exasperation. I take a deep breath and lift my chin. “What was your question, professor?”

“Once again, I’d like you to discuss one of your dreams, and how you interpret it.”

No freakin’ way.

As quick as I can, I conjure up every scrap of knowledge I know from the Book of Daniel. I’ve not read ahead yet—as I try to do with most text in this class—so I’m left to the teachings of my elementary school Sunday school class.

“No thank you,” I answer quickly. “I’m already in the lion’s den.”





CHAPTER ELEVEN





Hey Devil


Kennedy.




Hershel Baker is a wide, heavy, loud caricature of Colonel Sanders with a deep, deep southern accent. It has the kind of thick gravel to it that leaves me praying he’ll clear his throat. Just once. He does, but the after-effects remain in his vowels.