Jesus Freaks: The Prodigal (Jesus Freaks #2) (21 page)

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.

Sitting on my knees for an hour in the UC helped me fully commit to that transition. One in which I’ll let go of my old behaviors while I decide which new ones to adopt. The inner struggle will be a daily one, I’ve reasoned. I can’t let go of my political beliefs—and shouldn’t have to—and I’m constantly reminding myself not to view every interaction I have as a
me vs them
conversation.

In short, I’m going to stop talking about it to myself and just start doing it. Step out in faith, or whatever it is I hear everyone talking about all the time. I’m doubting that I’ll ever have all my ducks in a row, so I should stop waiting for that as the moment where I can truly explore God. I just have to start putting one foot in front of the other.

We’ve spent a great deal of time in our OT class talking about repentance. The methods by which people repented for their wrongs before Jesus involved a many-tiered system. The ways in which people were expected to repent depended on the wrong they had done, and often involved a bloody sacrifice of some kind. Alas, the teacher taught ahead without a spoiler-alert, God sent Jesus as the ultimate in final sacrifice so we wouldn’t
have
to do that stuff anymore. Of course that’s only one of the many things Jesus came for, but it got me thinking about what repentance looks like now.

Turning away. A change in behavior.
These are terms both Silas and Bridgette have used in discussing Silas’ emergence from whatever hole he’s been in most of the semester. I had
n
’t meant to sound sarcastic about it when talking about it with Matt the other day, because, honestly, whatever Silas is doing is working. He’s smiling more, doesn’t spend so much time alone, and talks more when he
is
around people.

While moving through my shift at Word, I keep looking at the clock and watching the front door, waiting for my chance to repent to Matt.

“You’re all serious,” Asher says, nudging next to me while he steams milk. Chelsea is out sick, meaning Asher’s working the floor with me tonight.

I shrug. “Just … contemplative, I guess.” I pull a word from a book about prayer life I’ve been reading.

“Where’s Roland been? I haven’t seen him in a couple of weeks.”

I blow some hair out of my face and move to the sterilizer to dry and stack cups. “After Thanksgiving he had a conference in Louisiana, I think. Then some interfaith symposium at Columbia this week.”

I’ve stayed in loose text-contact with Roland over the last two weeks but, as it turns out, my PK friends have been one-hundred-percent right: Pastors are just
busy people
. A true 24/7 job that extends way beyond Sunday morning and sermon preparation. Instead of feeling like I’ve taken a back seat, I’m kind of relieved to have some space, to be honest. Roland and I have had near constant-contact with each other since the beginning of the semester, and I think we both needed a break in order to go about our regular lives. At least until we figure out how our relationship will fit into our “regular lives.”

“Tell me about your prison ministry,” I ask.

“What do you want to know?” Asher sets the last of a large order of drinks on the counter and leans against it, both of us enjoying the sudden, temporary lull.

“Anything.” I chuckle. “Like … when you started it, how you started it, what you do … and why you’re so secretive about it.”

He chuckles, his large shoulders shifting up an
d
down. “I’m not secretive about it, Kennedy.”

“Then why did I not know about it
and
find out about it from my friends, who spend far less time with you than I do?”

Asher playfully growls and shakes his head. “I don’t talk about it here unless there’s an opening.”

I lift my eyebrows. “And me going to CU wasn’t enough of an opening for you? I call baloney.”

“Baloney?” he repeats, comically.

“Yes. Baloney. I think you intentionally kept it from me, in order to create a situation where you could blow my perception of you
and
Jesus-people out of the water.”

“Jesus people?”

“Stop repeating the last word I’ve said.”

Asher runs his hand over his shaved head before holding his hands out. “You got me.” He winks.

I stick out my tongue. “Fine, now that we know you’re as big of a hypocrite as I am, why don’t you tell me about the ministry?”

After a brief interruption to fill a croissant and tea order, Asher turns back to me.

“It started when I was a
j
unior at CU and got arrested.”

My mouth falls open and it’s hard to hear anything but the shocked gasp in my head. “Your … your what? And you got what?”

He arches an eyebrow. “Guess I should back up, huh? What are the odds you can stay late after your shift tonight?”

“Zero to zero.” I sigh. “I’m on a watch list.” I’m half teasing, but recalling Dean Baker’s snarly voice reminds me that I
do
need to keep my act together.

“I’ll come have lunch with you on campus sometime this week, okay? We’ll talk then.” With a sly grin, Asher eyes the door, then nods to it. “Your boyfriend’s here.”

My cheeks heat and
my
pulse races at the word as I look at the group of guys walking in and taking their usual table in the corner. Jonah, John, a couple girls whose names I don’t know, and, of course, Matt drape their coats over chairs and slowly make their way to the counter.

“He’s
not
my boyfriend,” I hiss. Sheepishly, I look up at Asher. “Once I finish their order, can I take my break
?
”

He snorts. “Yes. You can make your non-boyfriend a drink and then go talk to him.”

“I hate you,” I whisper-growl, begging my cheeks to stop burning.

Asher takes over putting the dishes away, not saying another word.

“Hey Jonah,” I say a bit more cheerfully than usual. An epic fail in trying to cover up my butterflies.

Jonah’s ever-pleasant face seems a bit grey. “Hey Kennedy.” His tone is just as cloudy.

“Usual?” I ask. He nods, and I speak to him over my shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” he tries to sound reassuring. “I’m just kind of stressed.”

“Amen to that,” I respond without a hint of snark.

With finals just over a week away, most of my friend
s
are on edge. I, however, am happily living in denial that my entire first semester at CU is about to be put to the test, academically speaking.

“Oh yay,” I say, eyeing the PK table while handing Jonah his drink. “You guys have a lot of people tonight. Some girls, too.”

“Yeah,” he offers a weak smile, “are you coming over on your break?”

“Coming over? Like, with you guys?”

I’m struck speechless for a moment. While I’d intended on sneaking a side-conversation with Matt, I didn’t intend to chat it up with the group. And hadn’t considered that they even wanted me to.

Jonah cracks a weak smile. “Yeah, the group wants to invite you.”

I sigh. “Are there some bizarre university requirements for group involvement? I’m in
zero
groups, so … I don’t know how it all works.”

“This isn’t a CU group. It’s kind of … under the table.” Jonah looks down for a minute before casting a cautious glance my way.

I nod approvingly. “A black market PK group? What do they want with me?”

“Honesty.” Matt’s voice cuts through the conversation before I realize he’s come up behind Jonah.

Jonah nods toward Matt. “What he said.”

I stare at them, skeptical. “And you trust them?
All of them
?” Craning my neck, I’m uncomfortable with the fact that I don’t recognize more of them than I recognize.

Jonah nods, looking more tired by the minute. “I trust them.”

“I do, too,” Matt agrees. “And I don’t trust anyone.”

I scan the group once more and find the two girls staring back at me as skeptically as I’m sure I’m staring at them.

What the hell …

“I’ll be over in five, okay?”

My answer satisfies my two best guy-friends on campus, and they shuffle back to the table, bringing an extra chair into their group for me.

“Have fun,” Asher harasses from behind the coffee grinder.

Rolling my eyes, I pour myself a cup of coffee, toss my apron on the back counter, and slowly approach the group. Matt spots me, pats the open seat next to him, and I happily comply to being sandwiched between him and Jonah.

“Guys,” Matt starts, sounding quite serious, “this is Kennedy. Kennedy, this is John, Marla, and Caitlyn.”

John, the guy I saw the first time I laid eyes on Matt, still retains the cocky-sexy smile I think he’s always had. “Hey.” He extends his hand across the table, and I shake it.

I wave and smile politely to Marla and Caitlyn, then lean back in my chair. The three who I don’t know stare at me for a few seconds, causing me to feel the urge to speak.

“So,” I say, sitting forward, “you’re all PK’s, huh?” Silently, I continue to wonder why they want me here at all.

“Sort of,” Marla, with short, tight curly hair, speaks first. Caitlyn giggles at yet another joke I seem to have missed.

“You see,” John plants his elbows on the table and leans forward, “we’ve all got … interesting relationships with our … title.”

I shrug. “I’ve had the impression that all of you kind of hate it for one reason or another. I mean, there are like three CU-sponsored PK groups and you guys are in some rogue one. I’m assuming it’s not a gilded path to walk. What I don’t understand is why you want me here.”

“We like you,” Caitlyn adds. “And, from what most of us can tell, you have a dad most of us
wish
we had …” she trails off, likely sensing my displeasure with the conversation, which is pushing me away fr
o
m the table to standing.

“Kennedy,” Matt touches my wrist for a split second—enough to get my attention—then puts it back in his lap.

Like Trent should have done.

I hold out my hands. “I’m not really in the mood to head up a Roland Fan Club, guys—”

“No,” Jonah cuts me off, “that’s not what she meant.”

The tired look in his eyes, mixed with the intensity of his voice, causes me to take my seat and pay attention.

“What, then?” I ask, taking a second to eye each member of the group.

Jonah continues. “We have
this
group because, yes, we all have issues with our upbringing, but like Matt told you before, you have kind of a clean slate. Something else each of us wishes we had.”

“And,” Marla interjects, “we just kind of want to help you. And … have you help us.”

“Help
you
?”

For the first time I can recall, John looks uncomfortable. “We know your meeting with Dean Baker a few weeks ago didn’t go so well.”

My eyes shoot around the table. I haven’t told a single soul about that conversation, except Mollie, who wouldn’t have told anyone, least of all a random collection of CU students. I face Matt, the only person I can think of that may have said
anything
, and I didn’t tell him, either.

“What are they talking about?” I ask him directly.

Matt looks over my shoulder to Jonah, then back at me. “After our study group, that day you and I ran into Dean Baker on the quad, I mentioned to Jonah that you seemed
really
uncomfortable around him. Then you wouldn’t even tell me what it was all about, and kept changing the subject a million times.”

Turning my head to the left and right, I grin sardonically. “Gossiping like little girls?”

“No,” Jonah defends uncomfortably, “that’s not it.”

Sighing, I pacify him. “I didn’t mean it like that … guess my sarcasm isn’t on point today.”

“Anyway,” Matt continues, “Jonah works in Dean Baker’s office.”

I whip my head back to
Jonah
, pushing my chair back slightly to reduce the whiplash. “This is news.”

“Work study,” he answers plainly. “It’s one of the easiest jobs on campus. I just kind of maintain student files.”