Jesus Freaks: The Prodigal (Jesus Freaks #2)(60)

“Mr. Wells?” Professor Towne calls from the front of the room.

Because he can’t ever just leave me alone.

“Yes sir?”

“You’re looking a little ill. Are you feeling okay?”

Chairs creak as the entire class turns back to assess me. Casting a side-glance at Kennedy, I clear my throat and stand.

“No. Sorry, Professor Towne, but I have to go.” Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I step over the back of my seat and beat it to the nearest exit.

I have two hours to kill before my next class, and usually have lunch soon, but I’m far from hungry right now. Lowering my head, I begin my trek across campus. I don’t make it far before I hear Jonah’s voice.

“Matt, wait up,” he calls calmly.

I like Jonah, and have no reason to want to be an ass to him, so I stop my feet and turn around. Unfortunately, Silas is with him. It’s not like I don’t like Silas—okay, I don’t like Silas. He’s massively uptight and always looks at everyone like he’s better than they are. I should cut him a little slack, though, since he seems to have loosened up a bit since break.

It’s amazing what can happen in four days.

“You guys should still be in class.” I nod toward the building I just exited.

“Professor Towne excused us,” Silas says. “He wanted us to make sure you were okay.”

I meet Jonah’s eyes, look at Silas, and back to Jonah. Trying to ask Jonah what, exactly, Silas is doing here. Jonah shoots me a sympathetic grin and offers a shrug, seeming to completely understand my thoughts. I don’t even know what I would say to Jonah if we were alone, but I know it’s roughly a hundred-times worse than what I’ll say with Father Silas here.

“Look, Silas,” I huff, “I’m not in the mood for a mini sermon right now, okay?”

Silas’ eyes fall to the sidewalk and he closes his eyes, taking a slow breath.

“I know,” he says softly. “I’m sorry, man.”

Jonah and I look at Silas with identical shock.

“What?” Jonah asks.

Silas shrugs, making eye contact with both of us as he speaks. “I’m sorry for how I’ve acted so far this semester, guys. I’ve been working up the courage to speak out about it at the prayer meetings, but I’ve been afraid, honestly. I’ve acted so foolishly … I’m sorry. I think I was just overwhelmed by a lot of things when I got to school and I went into hyper-protective mode, or something.”

My mouth falls open a little as I watch Silas repent for being … Silas. Or, what I thought was Silas, which, it seems, was not.

“What changed?” Jonah asks, taking over for my inability to speak.

Silas folds his long, lanky body onto a nearby bench. Jonah sits on the other end of the bench, while I keep my feet in place, facing them.

“When I went home for break, I had a long talk with my dad. He’s been through all of this before—going out on his own and dealing with temptation, new situations … everything. We prayed a lot together and, you know my sister, man, she’s so great. Such a servant’s heart in her. She prayed with me a few times, too, and helped me see that I need to repent.”

Repentance.

Such a tenuous concept in the Christian tradition. While most people, Christian or not, recognize the term to mean admitting when one has done something wrong, most people—Christian or not—miss the second part. Changing the behavior that caused the need to repent in the first place. It’s not enough to say sorry. This. This is at the crux of my rapidly disintegrating relationship with my father. His in-friggen-ability to turn away from sin. Or his unwillingness.

But, in front of me, Silas exhibits what I deem to be the face of someone shoulder-deep in repentance. Humility rather than guilt, determination rather than condescension.

“I’ve been harsh and unforgiving,” Silas continues his confession as classes begin to let out around us. “And, in doing so, I’ve been putting blocks up between me and God, and me and you guys. Matt,” Silas stands and puts a hand on my shoulder, “I’m sorry. Even if I don’t agree with all of your words and actions, I shouldn’t have come down so hard on you every chance I got. I’ve been missing the point, man and I’m really sorry.”

I shrug, offering a firm handshake. “Thanks, man,” I reply. “I really appreciate it.”

“Me, too,” Jonah adds, standing. “We’ve all got to help each other, but I admit I haven’t done a great job of that myself. I should have pulled you aside and talked about what was going on with you, Si. I’m sorry, too.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Kennedy making a beeline toward us. Knowing her, she’s going to want to crawl inside my head and pick out all the reasons I’ve been standoffish in the last couple of weeks. I don’t want her to see what’s in there. She’s too good for that, and if she saw what was in there, she’d flee. And she’d be right to; my moods and actions have been inconsistent. While it’s unfair to her, I don’t really have any appropriate answers. So, I need to avoid her until I get my head on straight.

“I’ve gotta get going, guys. I’ve got Statistics now. See you at lunch?” I barely await their affirmative responses before turning back down the sidewalk for my next class.