Losing Faith (24 page)

He almost bumps into me as he walks, head down, for the door.

“Whoops.” I step back before he hits me. Focusing on his name tag, it takes several seconds to make out all the words:
ALBERTSONS. PROUD TO PICK YOUR PRODUCE.

No name.

“Can I help you with something?” he asks, and I realize I’m staring at his chest.

“Um, do I know you?” I conjure some sudden confidence when Tessa’s headlights flash through the doors.

A smile edges onto his face. “I don’t think so. Have you shopped here before? I’d remember you.” The words slide off his tongue like butter into a nonstick skillet.

A player. Right. My angelic sister hung out in a group
with a player. “I don’t shop here much. My mom does,” I say. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

He extends a hand. “Nathan.”

Bingo. When I reach my hand to his, his fingers slip into mine like a glove. He’s a pro hand-shaker. And maybe I’m just nervous, but he doesn’t seem to let go as soon as he should.

I pull my hand away and he readjusts his backpack over his other shoulder. As he switches it, I catch a glimpse of a round red sticker pasted to the back. It has the same scribbly cross design, but with two large words above and below it, easily readable from a distance.
LOVE. SERVE.

“And you are?”

It occurs to me all at once that the phrase sounds like an echo. Probably because he repeated it while I zoned out on the sticker.

“Annie,” I say, my alias coming to me quickly. “That’s a cool design.” I point to the sticker. “Where’d you get it?”

He ignores my question and says, “Well, Annie, are you just starting or just finishing?”

“Um. Just finishing.”

He looks down at my empty hands.

“They didn’t have what I needed.”

He glances out the front window. “You driving or walking?”

“Walking,” I say.

“Let me walk you. You shouldn’t be out by yourself at this time of night.”

Right. Much better to be with a total stranger who’s just been hitting on me. A honk sounds, and I look outside. Tessa zooms along the front windows, flashing me a thumbs-up sign while Nathan has his back to her. She drives across the parking lot and idles at the far side in the direction of my house.

I doubt she can still hear our voices unless Pooh-bear has bionic powers, but at least she’s within view.

“What do you see?” Nathan asks, following my eyes.

“Oh, nothing. Just thought I recognized somebody.” I shake my head. “It wasn’t them.” I shove my hands into my vest pockets, but when they hit my stash of electronics, I quickly pull them out again, not wanting to mess up the recording. Though I’m not even sure the point of the recording equipment. We can’t trust our own memories? I decide it must be Tessa going overkill on all the cloak-and-dagger stuff.

“Which way?” Nathan asks, and I direct him to where Tessa’s car has now disappeared.

“You don’t have a car, either?”

“I do,” he says, and then points behind us in the parking lot. “Right over there, but walking is good for the soul. I think
too many people rush from place to place and automobiles just breed busyness.”

Great. This guy’s a total creep. He could have just offered me a lift, but no, he wants to walk with me. Probably lead me down some dark alley. “So you don’t like busyness,” I say. “What do you like?”

“God. Women. Love,” he says so automatically I wonder how many times he’s been asked this before.

The three words repeat over and over in my head. The first and the last seem to go together, even resemble my sister’s views. And with the word “Love” I immediately think of the red sticker. But “women”?

“So you’re, like, a Christian, right?” This seems like the quickest way to get some answers. Plus, I’m not sure I’m interested in his view on women.

He nods. “Not the same as most, though.”

Why does that not surprise me? Though I’m not sure what “most” Christians are like anymore. Mom kidnaps statues of Jesus. Dad ignores his pain, running back to church like nothing bad ever happens. Then there’s Reena: preaching to senile senior citizens and painting a personalized crucifix on her ceiling. But I have to ask. “What do you mean, ‘not the same’?”

“God is all about love,” he says. “Most people have a hard time with that concept. Try to put so many rules on everything.”

I think back to the pages of Bible verses in Reena’s file folder. “What kind of rules?”

“Well, what do you believe, Annie?”

This catches me off guard. But if he was in the same group as Faith and Reena, I should probably play up the fervent religious thing. “I love God,” I say. “I’d do anything for him.”

He stares at me, and I feel a sudden need to study my sneakers.

“So what do you think He wants from you?”

I try to let Faith’s words flow through me. Her humming is still so clear, but her words, I can’t find them anymore. “Well, he wants me to pray and sing to him. And always think about him.” I cringe. It sounded nothing like Faith.

Nathan shakes his head. He must be able to see right through me. “No, that’s not it. He doesn’t. It’s just about the love.”

The way he says it makes me think of hippies stumbling out of a smoke-filled van.

“Well, yeah,” I add. “Of course, love and all that, too.”

“No.” He stops in front of me and takes both my hands in his. “
Love
.”

I’m not sure what to say to that. Trying not to be obvious, I scan the streets around me. I can’t see Tessa anywhere.

I squeeze his hands and smile, trying to give a back-off
signal. But he looks into my eyes and I feel like I’ve already given him the wrong idea.

A second later, he turns and starts walking again. He doesn’t let go of my right hand, and since I’m so relieved he didn’t try to come any closer or kiss me, I don’t retract it just yet. A little rejection at a time.

“You see,” he goes on, as if our little moment hadn’t happened, “most church leaders ignore the Scriptures that don’t suit them, adding their own narrow-minded spin on things. And of course, there’s more good instruction out there besides the Bible.”

Besides the Bible?
This sounds like the polar opposite of something Faith might have said. Though I could see it with Reena maybe.

“You remind me of someone,” I say.

“Yeah? What’s his name?”

“Well, actually, it’s a girl. You don’t look like her or anything.” I try to force out a casual laugh, but it doesn’t help the tense knot in my stomach. “She runs this prayer-group thing.”

He stares at me so intently that I have to just blurt it.

“Her name is Reena Monachie.”

His quiet reaction scares me at first, but then he readjusts his backpack and clears his throat. “You know her?”

I swallow. “I met her once, when I was visiting my grandma.”

“At the senior center?” His voice lightens.

“Yeah. You know her?”

He nods.

I suppress a smile. “She was telling me about her group. But then she never called. Do you know anything about when they meet?”

He stares around at the trees for a few seconds. “The group … isn’t really happening at the moment.”

“Oh, that’s too bad.” I rub a sweaty hand on my jeans. But he must be lying or not part of it anymore. Reena told me she was going to invite me to a meeting. “I’ve been looking for something like that. Do you think it’ll start up again?”

He looks me up and down, and I feel like my figure might be the deciding factor. “Maybe. I’ll talk to Reena. Does she have your number?”

“Uh-huh.” I try to keep my voice calm, even though the sudden progress makes me so nervous and so excited at the same time.

“We’ll give you a call when we get set up again.” The way he says “we” makes it sound like he and Reena run the group together. He winks. As we turn the corner into my housing development, Nathan’s eyes settle on the large, engraved
ARLINGTON HEIGHTS
sign. “You live in here?”

“Yeah. You look like you’ve been here before.” I quickly calculate a different route in case it looks Faith-familiar.

He gnaws on his lip. “Yeah, my girlfriend used to live in here.”

My mouth drops open, but only for a millisecond. There’s no way it could be Faith. She didn’t bring boys home or date. Ever. In fact, she didn’t believe in dating until she was ready to get married. The sudden realization that she never would marry now seems so sad. I push myself back to the moment to get my mind off of it.

“Girlfriend? Really? But she doesn’t live here anymore?” I say it as casually as I can muster. When he doesn’t respond, I add, “Did she move away?” I lead him past the turnoff for my street and onto the next one.

“Um, yeah.” He nods, but his voice is hesitant.

I stop just before the driveway of the house behind mine. Through their open yard, I can tell my parents have turned in. Only the porch light shines. “I live over there.” I point the opposite direction. “But my dad, he’s kind of—”

“No, I understand.” He squeezes my hand. I still feel odd, letting him hold it, but if that’s the worst he tries, I’m not going to break out the pepper spray over it. I squeeze back and he gets a glint in his eye. A small smile breaks.

“I should probably go.” The trees in the neighbor’s yard
move in the wind. Even though my house is dark and Tessa’s car is nowhere in sight, strangely, I feel like I’m being watched. Protected.

Nathan leans in, which catches me off guard. I snap my head to the side, so he ends up planting his lips almost on my ear.

“Thanks for walking me,” I say, backing away. “I’ll drop into the store again soon. And tell Reena to call me.”

He lifts his hand for a casual wave. By the time I fall into the shadow of our neighbor’s house, I turn to look for him and he’s halfway down the street, jogging in the direction we came from.

Looking both ways, I ball my hands into fists. I can’t believe Tessa left me on my own with that guy! What if he didn’t stop with a kiss on the cheek?

On my way up our front steps, something catches my eye behind Mom’s rosebushes. A few feet closer, and the flash of red is unmistakable.

Alis’s bike.

“Alis,” I whisper-call around the side of our house. When he doesn’t answer, I try the other side. I look inside and around Dad’s van, but I can’t find him anywhere.

I don’t want to shove the bike in the garage where he can’t get it in case he’s still around somewhere. Instead, I push it a
little deeper into the bush so it can’t be seen. Then I circle the house once more, calling his name.

Finally, I give up and head inside. When I shut the door behind me and see movement in the dark, a scream comes up my throat and almost leaves my mouth.

“Oh, Dad. Hi.” I wonder how long he’s been standing there waiting for me. Seeing the worried look on his face, I sense his pain. I feel so sad for him, and so horrible for all the sneaking around I’ve been doing.

“Good night,” he says. He touches my back and heads up the stairs to bed without another word.

I stand there, stunned. If he’s so worried, why doesn’t he yell at me or do
something
about it?

chapter
TWENTY-SEVEN

t
he next morning, Alis’s bike still lies buried in our rosebush. I wonder if something happened, if he came to try and find me for some reason. Maybe he heard about Reena planning another meeting. Or what if she found out about our snooping in her room? I take a slow breath to clear that thought. But why would Alis leave his bike behind?

When Tessa shows up at her locker, I turn and give her as hard a glare as I can muster and then angle into my own locker to grit my teeth.

“Wow, someone woke up on the wrong side of the Midol,” she says.

I don’t reply. Maybe she thrives on hanging out with strange guys in the middle of the night. Doesn’t mean I’m stupid enough to.

She goes on as if nothing’s wrong. “So I guess I pictured your family as the huggy/kissy type. The curt ‘good night’ was a curveball.”

I turn and scowl at her. “What?”

“Your dad. He doesn’t say much, huh?” She pulls a binder from her locker. “Hey, can I get that receiver back? I don’t want my dad going out and buying another one.” She holds out a hand.

My mind quickly fills in the blanks. The Pooh walkie-talkie. Which is still in my vest pocket at home. I make a show of patting my pockets anyway. Tessa must have stayed with me right until I got in the house.

“’Course, I shouldn’t be surprised. Your boyfriend doesn’t say a hell of a lot either.”

She’s lost me again. “You saw Alis? Where were you?”

“The guy walks like a cockroach on uppers. Found him halfway down Marshall.”

Marshall. The street adjacent to mine at the end. No wonder I didn’t see her.

“I give the guy a ride home and all he does is scowl the whole way. I thought we were making progress.” She shakes
her head and shuts her locker. “At least he said thanks.”

“You gave Alis a ride home last night?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” She clicks her lock on and walks away.

I dig out my books for first class. Hopefully Alis will call after school, and translate all that into English.

Through the day, I’m surprised that Steph and other ex-friends actually make eye contact with me. It’s nice to walk through the halls no longer the school pariah. But at the same time I know it’s so superficial. They’d all so easily turn against me again.

When the last bell of the day sounds, I reach into my purse and scroll the ringer volume on my cell up.

“Miss Jenkins,” Clairvoyant Clancy bellows over the stream of students leaving his classroom.

I nod and wave, but don’t divert my path toward the door.

“I’d like you to stay for a moment, please,” he calls.

With my back to him, I purse my lips, and then turn around with a forced smile.

“I’m concerned about you catching up with the rest of the class,” he says.

He’s not the only one. And maybe it would help keep my focus if I had a teacher watching over me. I nod.

“I think we need to come up with a plan—,” he says, but he’s interrupted by the sound of John Mayer. Coming from my cell phone.