Jesus Freaks: Sins of the Father

Roland takes a sharp breath through his nose. “Any time, Ms. Sawyer. Though I hope you’ll consider one of the assistant positions in my office on campus?”

I can’t tell if this is part of the undiscussed act we have going between us to keep our connection a secret, or if he’s serious. I’d chuckle either way, so I decide that’s the most appropriate reaction.

“Probably not. I’d love some time off campus. But I’ll tell my floormates. I didn’t realize you had an office on campus.” My nostrils flare as I tilt my head to the side.

He shrugs. “I teach a New Testament class, and a few others, so it’s easier to have a base on campus.”

“Right on,” I concede, growing more uncomfortable by the minute seeing that Joy has found people to talk to that are standing even closer to Roland and me than the trashcan is. “Well, see you Sunday.”

“See you Sunday.” Roland turns and exits the coffee shop, and in a move of self-preservation, I walk over to Joy.

Sidling up next to her, I hear her urgent tone as she addresses people I gather quickly are strangers.

“Eternity is a long time,” Joy pleads. “And hell is hot.”

Casting a quick glance to the people she’s lecturing, I find them staring at her with a mix of humor and contempt.

“Okay.” I clap once and plaster on a gigantic smile. “Joy,” I smile wider, linking my arm through hers, “we’ve gotta go.”

I mouth sorry to the unsuspecting coffee-goers and lead Joy outside.

“What are you doing?” I hiss once we’re outside, shaking her arm from mine.

“Saving souls while you’re trying to get a job at a coffee shop,” she answers so matter-of-factly it causes my jaw to drop.

I point behind me to the door of Word. “You can’t just accost people with threats of hell, Joy!” Our friends, who had been standing at the edge of the sidewalk waiting for us, close in around us now.

Joy’s long hair, which is tied in a tight ponytail, whips over her shoulder as she places her hands on her tiny hips. “That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do, but I wouldn’t expect you to know about that.”

“Okay, okay, okay,” Eden steps between with a nervous twitter. “What’s going on?”

Joy opens her mouth, but I cut her off at the pass. “Joy approached two strangers and started telling them they’re going to hell. I got her out of there before they dumped their drinks on her head.”

Joy quirks her mouth into a condescending grin, rolling her eyes. “Get a grip, Kennedy. We were in a public place and I was trying to rescue people. That’s what we’re supposed to do.”

“You’re insane,” I spit out and push my way through the crowd of immodest sinners, relishing in the touch of their bare skin against mine as I barrel down the sidewalk. With no plan.

How dare she? Just when I thought Joy couldn’t get more stereotypical, she interrupts a couple’s perfectly normal coffee-going Friday afternoon with threats of eternal damnation.

“Kennedy!” Bridgette’s frantic voice calls after me. The way the syllables bounce out of her mouth, I can tell she’s running, but I don’t turn around. “Kennedy, wait!” she calls again.

I slow to a stop, but don’t turn around. When she reaches me, Bridgette is breathless, and I start moving again. Not race-walking this time, but still moving away from the scene of the social crime.

“What?” I huff after a few seconds of silence.

“Come back with us. We’ve still got to go to the mall.” Her voice is that of a small child. Uncertain. Pleading. In fact, so much about the way Bridgette carries herself is like a child that I feel guilty and annoyed at the same time. On one hand—grow up. But, on the other hand, I feel guilty for my outburst. Justified, but guilty.

With a sigh, I stop my forward march to nowhere. “I don’t think I should hang out with Joy. I’m like a sentence and a half away from more demerits than my enrollment can handle with her,” I admit. “I’d kind of like to head to the mall by myself.”

Bridgette knots her fingers in front of her, looking at me as though she already regrets the words she’s about to say. “You…you can’t go to the mall by yourself.”

Of course not. The rules. Freshmen can’t go off campus—except for work—by themselves until they earn the right through good behavior and things like that. Goodness I’m rapidly losing my grip on.

My eyes fill with tears and I’m thankful there’s a short brick wall behind me, outlining the perimeters of a flower vendor. Clutching my coffee in one hand, I use the other to balance myself to sit on the wall, lowering my head. Bridgette sits next to me and offers a gentle arm around my shoulder.

“Does everyone think I overreacted?” I ask with a sniff. “I mean, is that really what we’re supposed to do? Solicit the public with fear? I honestly don’t recall reading Jesus’ speech on that.”

Bridgette laughs. “I don’t think you overreacted. I can’t speak for anyone else, but, no, I don’t think so. You probably shouldn’t have called her insane, though.”

“She’ll tell on me to Maggie,” I say.