And, I feel like I’ve finally settled in here. Despite everything going on, I’ve developed a routine of work, church, and home—as my grandfather used to say. Roland’s last couple of sermons have been completely Kennedy-free, and he’s stuck to the sermon series he’d begun when the semester started. Hundred-percenters is what he’s encouraging the students to be. One hundred percent for Jesus, one hundred percent of the time.
While I don’t know if I have a percentage attached to my enthusiasm, my focus on God has begun to shift from viewing him as a spiritual overseer to Jesus—the human and divine God walking among humans. And, what did he say? What did he instruct? That view-shift from God to the human Jesus has begun stirring my relationship with him in ways I couldn’t have imagined. I’m not sure what I’m going to do with all of that, yet, but it’s there. Churning just below the surface.
“When does your train leave?” Eden asks, packing her purple duffel bag.
I glance at the time on my computer. “Later this afternoon. Maggie’s driving me to the train station soon. What are you all doing for Thanksgiving?” I ask of my roommates.
They share the standard plans of hanging out with family and enjoying huge meals. Then, Eden pauses her packing and leans against the edge of her desk.
“Some of my high school friends have invited me to this party at a cabin in the next town over.” She sighs and looks down at her hands. “I guess a lot of people from my graduating class and the years before ours are going to be there. It’s some tradition that’s kept pretty well secret. I didn’t even know about it and I always know about social stuff.”
I chuckle at Eden’s admission of her popularity status.
“What’s the trouble?” Bridgette asks. “Is there, like, beer and stuff?”
Eden twists her lips and nods. “Yeah.”
I shrug. “You don’t have to drink it, though.”
“She also doesn’t have to go,” Bridgette adds a little hastily.
That, too …
Mollie called a few nights ago and directed me toward Facebook—which I decided to avoid for the rest of the semester-where my very own e-vite sat. This one hosted by my ex-boyfriend, Trent.
“Is that against the rules?” I ask, suddenly worried about my own Friday night plans.
“It’s not just about rules, Kennedy,” Bridgette snaps, earning her wide eyes from both me and Eden. “It’s about how it makes her feel in her heart and spirit, too. If she’s uncomfortable, she shouldn’t go.”
You know what …
“You know what, Bridgette?” I snap back. “Sometimes life is uncomfortable. Do you think it was easy-breezy for me to stand up in front of the school and half the nation to talk about Roland as my dad? Do you think it was comfortable for me to come here? No, but despite my misgivings, I felt like I needed to come here. And, most days I don’t know why. I don’t get it, and sometimes I just want to go home. But beneath my discomfort is something deeper. So back off.”
Ignoring Bridgette’s horrified stare, I angrily zip my bag and move in front of Eden.
“Look,” I start, breathlessly. “Go, or don’t go, but don’t over-think it. No one can force you to do anything you don’t want to do. Talk to your brother, maybe. He’s gone through the same stuff. Don’t not go because you’re afraid of what people will think, or whatever.” I eye Bridgette for a second. “Fear causes people to do some crazy shit. Just look at Joy. She was evidently afraid of me, and look where it got her.”
“That’s not fair, Kennedy,” Bridgette states with tears in her eyes. “Eden not going to a party is not the same thing as Joy bullying you.”
“I’m not saying it is, Bridge.” I take a deep breath and back toward the door. “I’m just suggesting maybe you all should start believing in the strength you ask for in your prayers every night.”
Eden holds out her hands. “Guys, I didn’t mean to cause such a problem …”
Bridgette and I look at Eden, then each other, then we drop our emotional weapons. As seems to be happening more and more with Bridgette lately, she breaks into tears. I roll my eyes, then shoot a quick look to my right and find that Eden caught me. She offers a tiny shrug and wraps an arm around Bridgette.
“Bridge,” I say inside another sigh, “what’s going on?”
“Something’s wrong with Silas,” she replies, wiping under her eyes. “I don’t know what it is, but he’s been just … so quiet and angry since we got here. More as the semester has gone on.”
I arch an eyebrow at a still-quiet Eden. “You mean he’s not always … reserved?”
She shakes her head. “At home he always cracks jokes and plays with our little brothers and sisters. He’s not this super uptight guy with no sense of humor.”