Jesus Freaks: The Prodigal (Jesus Freaks #2)(36)

“Amen,” we say in unison, separating our hands and returning to our previous tasks.

Mine is to get on a train, fall asleep, and wake up in Connecticut.

“Bridge,” I smile, slinging my bag back over my shoulder, “I think this break will be just what you need. Go home and love on your parents and siblings. Silas, too. I think it’s just been a tough transition, is all.”

“Thank you, Kennedy.” Her smile returns and she gives me a soft embrace before stepping back. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a mess lately.”

I give her a quick wink. “No need to apologize for being human. You girls have my phone number, so make sure you text me over the next couple days, okay? Call, too.”

I give them a wave and exhale a premature breath of freedom as I head downstairs where Maggie and the other hall residents who are going to the train station will be waiting in a campus van. I get there before a few of them, so I secure a window seat on the front bench. I make quick work of buckling my seatbelt, and then I lean my head on the window and stare at the rain as it rolls down the glass.

“Looking forward to going home?” Maggie asks with a wry smile.

I say nothing, but look at her and return the smile. She’s been good about checking in with me over the last couple of weeks, but our conversations have been highly relegated to text messages. There have been a few “crises” on our floor that have required enough of her time that we haven’t been able to schedule meetings on a regular basis. I air-quote crisis because none of them have involved drugs, violence, or the police, so I’m thinking that’s an area where my definition deviates slightly from theirs. Still, I am looking forward to meeting with her on a regular basis, but it looks like that might be something we work toward for next semester, since when we return from Thanksgiving break, we’ll all be studying like crazy for final exams.

Once the other girls are in the van, Maggie starts our journey toward the Amtrak station. Unfortunately, the closest station is nearly two hours away in Gastonia. And, from what I saw online, it barely qualifies as a station at all. More like a brick hut that looks like something out of an old Western film. Amidst the chatter of five other girls—some excited to see their high school sweethearts, and others looking forward to getting back to their home church—I begin to doze off. Before I slip fully unconscious, my phone dings.

I’ve changed his title in my phone from “BF” to his real name, but it’s still kind of a shock when it pops up.

Roland: I’m sorry we didn’t connect before you left. Have a Happy Thanksgiving.

I smile while I read the message. It seems Roland and I had the right idea in encouraging Jahara to push off the more in-depth interviews for a while. Media interest seems to have died down quickly, though not quick enough, which is why I’ve avoided all social media. We’ve been able to slip back into our previous roles of student and pastor—his making him far busier than I am—and we’ve only really seen each other in passing on campus or the one intervening Sunday since the Today Show interview.

Part of that is my doing, though, because I really needed to curl into myself for a while. There was far more exposure there than I’m typically comfortable with, and I really just wanted to keep my head down and make it through Thanksgiving in one piece. The rest of the semester will be a piece of cake, and then I’ll get six entire weeks away.

Me: I’m sorry too. Was studying like crazy, but got an A on the OT exam, so … I’m heading to the train station now. See you next week.



Roland: See you then. Stay safe.



It always makes me a little uncomfortable when he offers parental advice like this. Sure, these concerns were shared with the student body by teachers, RA’s, and friends through the last couple of weeks, but coming from him I know he’s trying on a parental role. It’s not that I don’t want him to, I don’t think, but we’ve got a long ways to go there.

I let his last message end our conversation and I fall quickly to sleep for the remainder of the ride.





“Kennedy,” Maggie calls me from my slumber. “We’re here. Wake up.”

Wincing as I try to right my neck after almost two hours in a car-sleep position, I sit up and stretch my arms.

“That felt good,” I admit. Between work, prayer groups, and the excessive studying I need to do to stay afloat, there is little time to sleep at night, let alone steal hours from the day.

Maggie smiles. “Have a good break. Make sure you go to church Sunday, okay?”

Rules.

I nod. “Fine, fine,” I playfully reply.

“Have you checked out evangelical churches in your hometown?”

I laugh. “I don’t think they exist, but I’ll give it a whirl.”

Maggie shakes her head. “Just keep your head on, okay?”

Sliding across the bench toward the door, I flash her a thumbs-up. “You got it.”

She shakes her head, dramatically rolling her eyes. “You’re going to give me a run for my money this year, aren’t you?”

Planting my feet on the ground I give her a circus-worthy smile. “What?” I ask, batting my lashes.

Maggie laughs and turns the key. “Just … stay out of trouble?”

“I will,” I concede, despite the question at the tip of her voice.