Jesus Freaks: Sins of the Father

“Still wanna get your nose pierced, Bridge?” I slow down as we come across Lucky You Tattoo and Piercing.

Peeking inside the window, I find your standard cast of characters for such a place. A large, almost comically beefy man smeared in tattoos. Bald head, naturally. There’s also an equally tattooed female with shockingly short shorts and a tube top which reveals a soft showing of tattooed skin across her midsection.

The group goes silent behind me, and I turn around to find them looking anywhere but the shop. Bridgette’s fingers are knotted around each other and she’s biting her lip. Linking my arm with hers, I hurry the group away from this destination.

“Another time, maybe,” I whisper as I set my head on her shoulder.

She squeezes my hand. “Thanks,” she whispers back.

We walk for a few more minutes, rounding the corner to what I take to be the food district. While I’m not hungry, I smell fresh roasting coffee and breathe it in deeply, suddenly needing it. There’s coffee on campus, but I’m almost positive they weaken it.

“Rocks,” Bridgette calls over her shoulder as we weave through the crowd shouting orders for gyros at the man in a food truck.

“Thanks,” Silas mumbles.

“Rocks?” I ask Bridgette.

She shrugs and looks a little sheepish. Chalking it up to an inside family joke, I don’t question her any further.

“So, Joy,” I hear Eden ask behind me, “what do you like to do for fun?”

“Mission trips,” she answers flatly.

Eden doesn’t respond, but I can hear her deep breath behind me. Bless her heart, she tries so hard to find the good in everyone.

Crap! I slap my hand over my mouth even though I haven’t said anything out loud. I thought the phrase, “Bless her heart.” I’ve heard the words uttered no less than twenty times in the six days I’ve been on campus, and that’s a conservative estimate. But I’ve never said it. Or thought it.

I’m turning into one of them, I think comically. And semi-seriously.

“Coffee!” I shout, stopping our visual tour.

We follow the smell of roasting beans as we make our way down the street, stopping in front of a large storefront that hosts several outdoor tables and chairs, and floor-to-ceiling windows that open up to the inside of Word. “Coffee and Books” is in smaller type on the sign.

I turn to the group. “Coffee. Books. How bad can it be?”

“Sounds good to me,” Jonah pipes up for the first time since we dismounted the bus.

“That’s two,” I reply playfully. “Any more? Come on!”

Laughter sprinkles through the group.

I smile. “I take that as a unanimous decision. Let’s go.”

Walking into Word, I stop again and take a deep breath. Looking around, I’m bursting with excitement. It’s a locally owned coffee shop—as are all of the shops in this section of Downtown—filled with wall-to-wall shelves of used books. The only style element here is that of a garage sale, it seems. Mismatched tables and chairs fill the large space, segmented only by bookshelves. It’s amazing.

“It looks like it’s getting busy in here,” I note to the group. “I don’t mind ordering for you guys if some of you want to snag a table for us. Maybe one outside since it’s so nice out?”

“Sure,” Eden replies, handing me a five dollar bill. “Just a small chai for me.”

“Bottle of water,” Joy mumbles, giving me two dollars. She handed me her money, which makes me think she might just be changing her mind about me.

Bridgette hands me a ten. “Decaf for me, full-strength for Si.”

“You got it.” I turn and find that Jonah is retrieving money from Brent.

I take my place an ever-growing line, and Jonah sidles up next to me.

“Rule breaker,” I mumble, scanning the board and appreciating all the choices before me.

Jonah laughs. “What?”

“I mean, if you wanted a date with me, you could have asked,” I tease. “But we’d still need a chaperone.”

He shrugs. “They’re all fifteen feet behind us.”

“Is that a university-sanctioned distance?”

Jonah’s eyes crease as he delivers a full-wattage smile. I do appreciate his shaggy hair—oh so very much. “What’s gotten into you?” he asks.

“Huh?” I step forward; he follows.

“Ever since breakfast you’ve been all, I don’t know…bubbly. I’ve heard you talk more in the last hour than I have all week.”

I roll my eyes. “Says the man of many words. This is the most I’ve heard you talk.”

With his hands in his pockets, Jonah swings his elbow out, nudging mine. “I mean it,” he insists.

“I don’t know. I guess I just feel… free. We’re out, like, amongst my people.” I hold out my hands my eyes scanning across the crowd.

“We’re not all like her, you know…” Jonah half-mumbles.

“What? Like who?”

“Joy.”

My cheeks feel flushed as my heart flutters slightly. I hope I haven’t given away my suspicion of her. “I don’t know what you’re ta—”

“Oh, come on!” Jonah’s eyes widen and he flashes another smile. “She’s pretty intense.”

I look up at him from the corner of my eye. “You’re all pretty intense.”