“How in God’s—how do you know this?” It’s dangerously easy for me to let my guard down around Matt. I need to remember the rules and the etiquette. Not just CU’s rules, but, like Matt said, words are power and suddenly I don’t want Matt to think I’m casual about my use of God’s name.
“My dad and Roland are friends, and around the time I found out you were coming to CU, they were also talking about the prison ministry. I asked them both if I could work at it when I got here, but they said I’d have to wait until I was older, more mature, and the program was more solid.”
“Why wouldn’t Asher tell me that? He was all evasive during our conversation earlier. Couldn’t he have just told me he was a super-Christian?” I joke.
Matt laughs, and I’m continuously grateful my lame attempts at humor are finding an audience here at CU. “I haven’t talked much about you with him, but Asher’s the kind of guy that likes to challenge people’s perceptions. Like he’ll sit back and wait for you to have everything figured out then—Bam! He shows up with how it really is.”
I sigh. “Kind of seems like a lot to go through to make someone feel like a jerk for their assumptions.”
“Eh,” Matt shrugs, “it’s kind of a part of his whole ministry. He doesn’t have to do much work to get people to assume. He doesn’t lead them to believe things that aren’t true. He just is constantly challenging people to be better. Think better.”
While I’m at first annoyed that I couldn’t see straight through Asher, it forces me to examine my perceptions further, and start thinking about how I want people to view me. Of course, I can’t control what people think, but I can control how I present it. What they do with it after that is between them and God—and how they grew up, I suppose. It seems that’s what Roland does, too. He says more in the space between his words, sometimes, than he does in the actual sentences.
“Oh, shhhhooooot,” I hiss, really drawing out the second word to prevent myself from falling into using the swear.
Matt lifts his head. “Wh—uh-oh.”
With our feet stopped, our eyes are fixed on the same thing—my mom and Roland walking at breakneck speed down the trail. Right toward us.
“Kennedy! Are you crazy?” Mom shouts.
Before I can respond, Roland holds his hand out as if to tell her to calm herself. Despite the sour look on her face, discernible the closer she gets, she obliges.
“Great,” Matt rumbles, taking a deep breath. “I think our time as fugitives from the CU guidelines has just come to a swift end.”
Judging by the stern look on Roland’s face, I’d say Matt is spot on. Luckily, we don’t have to wait long for confirmation.
“Kennedy,” Mom starts again. “You cannot just storm off like that and not tell us where you’re going and not answer your phone.” She’s breathless from however long she and Roland have been tailing me.
“Actually, Mom, that’s exactly what storming off is.”
“Watch your tone with your mother,” Roland cautions sternly. Not a full-on disciplinarian tone, but one that sinks my stomach, and my self-righteousness, in a heartbeat.
Noticeably, Matt stiffens at my side. He stands even straighter; though I didn’t realize that was possible, and his shoulders seem to involuntarily pull back as he lifts his chin.
Interesting.
“Sorry,” I answer, eyeing both adults.
Mom opens her mouth to speak, but Roland gently cuts her off. “Look, we know that everything has been up in the air over the last few days, and rules have been bent and overlooked to accommodate all of us while the dust settles. But, that ends now. We’re all accountable to the rules and not taking advantage of the courtesies offered to us.” His eyes move between me and Matt.
“I’m sorry, sir. Ma’am.” Matt’s southern accent seems thicker as he formally addresses my parents with a polite nod.
Immediately I’m beating myself up for Matt having this face-off with Roland. Sure, it was his idea to take this walk, but if he hadn’t gotten himself mixed up with me, he’d probably be studying in his room or the library right now. Just like everyone else.
“Sorry,” I whisper to Matt.
“Don’t do that,” he whispers back while we’re in front of our two-person firing squad.
Mom speaks up, taking a deep breath before she does. I’m thankful Roland kept her quiet for so long. She tends to be a bit excitable unless she has a minute to collect herself. “Kennedy, you’re going to come back with me to Roland’s where we’ll gather your stuff and take you back to your dorm. Roland is going to walk with Matt back to campus.”
Roland nods, “I’m willing to cover for you two right now, but this is the last time. I can’t—won’t—do it anymore, is that clear?”
“Yes, sir,” Matt and I answer at the same time.
I’ve never called anyone sir in my life, and Matt seems to sense this, judging by his sly grin.
“Matt, we’ll go grab a coffee and have a chat before heading back.” Roland straightens his shoulders and a curtain of calm falls over his face. He’s once again regained his composure, putting an arm around Matt’s shoulders and turning him around to exit the trail from where we’d entered.