Jesus Freaks: The Prodigal (Jesus Freaks #2)(61)

A mass of students crowds the sidewalk full within seconds, and I hope to blend into the crowd and make it safely to my stats class without much fanfare.

“Matt!” Kennedy calls over the crowd. “Wait!”

Crap.

I try to ignore her, but the honest concern in her voice is too much to ignore. She may deserve better than me as a friend, but that doesn’t mean I have to prove it every chance I get.

“Matt, stop!” she pleads again.

To avoid a pileup of annoyed students in the middle of the sidewalk, I step to the side and lean against a large tree as nonchalantly as possible.

“What’s up?” I ask casually.

Kennedy’s face tightens as she pushes my shoulder. “Don’t what’s up me. What the he—ck is wrong with you? You haven’t stopped by the coffee shop when I’m working, and you were MIA from Bible study last week. What’s wrong with you? Did I do something to ... I don’t know ... offend you? Though I find that hard to believe since you’ve been staring at me all weird for the last week.”

“Sorry,” I blurt out faster than I can think about it. “It’s just … break was … not really a break, and I just had a weird conversation with Silas …”

Her face relaxes slightly. “About his transformation?” There’s a pleasant hint of sarcasm in her voice.

“He’s talked to you about it?”

She nods. “Once. But its all Bridgette can talk about. She was legitimately freaked before Thanksgiving, but, apparently things are all Kosher—or whatever—with him now, and we’re supposed to walk around and pretend like he hasn’t been a giant f*ckwad for the last—” She slaps her hand over her mouth, stopping her words. “I’m sorry,” she whispers after a few seconds.

I shake my head. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not. I really need to get a grip. I can’t walk around here like the rules don’t apply to me.”

I chuckle. “You don’t walk around here like the rules don’t apply to you, K. Sawyer. You’re as much of a stickler for the rules as our RA’s are.”

She looks down. “Not in my head, I haven’t been. And, really, I’m sorry. I haven’t taken the whole culture here seriously enough, Matt. I haven’t been respectful to the rules and values you guys all have. Look, I don’t want to talk about this here … on Friday can you please go to Word with the other PK’s while they have their little emotional jam-session, or whatever it is y’all do?”

Laughing, I take my hand and rest it on her forehead, making like I’m checking her temperature. “Did you just say y’all?”

She winks and gives a small grin. “If I’m going to come spy on you in Georgia, I’ve got to blend in.”

I take the tip of my index finger and point softly at the almost invisible hole just below the center of her bottom lip. “I don’t think blending in should be a goal for you.”

My finger stays on her skin for a second longer than it should. Really, it shouldn’t have been there at all. Kennedy’s lips part as she takes a quick breath, and I move my hand to my pockets. Where they should probably stay when I’m around her. Her eyes seem to gloss over like she’s about to cry.

“Sorry,” I say quickly. “I didn’t mean to make you … uncomfortable.”

Clearing her throat, Kennedy shakes her head and tucks some hair behind her ears. “No, it’s not that, just … come to Word on Friday, okay? I need to talk to you.”

Turning on her heels, Kennedy moves back in the direction she came from, which is weird, since I know her next class is in the building next to mine. I stay in place long enough to crane my neck and follow Kennedy’s path, watching her duck into the University Chapel. I don’t think I’ve ever known her to go there—or any church—unless it’s been required.

Shrugging it off for the time being, I book it to class, and barely make it to my seat on time. My body stays in class for the entire time this time, but my mind is far, far away. Between resisting the urge to track Kennedy down in the UC, wondering what drove her there, and the unwelcome images from the strip club still swirling through my mind, I don’t have a hope of focusing today.

Sure, I could pray for God to rid my mind of damaging clutter, and restore me to a place of faith, but I won’t.

Faith is dangerous.

It’s like falling from thirty-thousand feet with the mere inkling that there might, just might, be a net to catch you before you splatter against the earth.

I think I’ll just stay in my perfectly good airplane.





CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO





The Monster


Kennedy.




I skipped my first class at CU on Wednesday. To pray. I skipped my first college class ever to sit in the silence of the ornately beautiful, stain-glassed UC and pray. Between my feelings of discomfort around my high school friends while at Trent’s house, Silas’ renewed commitment to following Jesus’ love walk, as he calls it, and things being a little weird with Matt—I just needed a minute.

I’ve become an active participant in my nightly floor meetings, thrilling my roommates and Maggie. But, you know what? I’m worn out from trying to live a double life. I’ve said it a thousand times over the last three months—that I’m diving in, or committing to a real life here at CU—but I’ve not changed my behavior or mindset in the least.