Bad Connection (3 page)

Emma nods and smiles, and I get this feeling that she's holding something back. Like a poker player who's got a couple of aces, she's waiting for the right moment to lay down her hand.

“Okay,” I say to Emma. “What is it? What do you know that you're not telling us?”

“Yeah,” says Brittany. “And don't tell us Kayla got pregnant online either.”

We kind of laugh again. But I can tell the laughter is getting thinner and weaker. Maybe humor worked for us on Monday, when we all just assumed that Kayla had pulled a fast one. And even on Tuesday when we figured she was holding out to punish her mom over this latest boyfriend. But now that it's Wednesday, well, I think we're all getting pretty worried.

“Okay, this is the deal,” Emma says as if she's divulging a big secret. “This Colby guy is in his twenties. He's not our age at all.”

Everyone looks properly shocked, and it's obvious that Emma is pleased. I suspect she's enjoying all this attention. No wonder she keeps dragging it out.

But now that I think about it, I remember something like this. “Yeah, I kind of recall Kayla saying the guy she met was older, but I assumed it was just like a year or two. Are you sure he's really that old, Emma?”

“Well, according to the e-mail I read, he's a graduate of UCLA, and he has a good job and a nice apartment and a cool car and everything.”

“That's just weird,” I say. “Why would a guy like that be interested in someone like Kayla?” Okay, even as I say this, I realize it could be taken all wrong. Still, it doesn't make sense.r>

“Kayla's a pretty girl,” offers Brittany. “And you gotta o admit she looks great in a bikini. Didn't you say that they met on a beach, Emma?”

“Yep. That's what she told me.”

“She said that to me too,” I admit. “Seems like he was a surfer.”

“Kayla went on and on about what a great time they'd had'at the beach,” says Emma.

“Even so,” I say, “if this Colby dude really is a college grad with a good job and everything, well, why would he get involved with a minor? There are laws against that, you know.”

Olivia shakes her head. “It really doesn't make much sense.”

“Maybe Kayla told him she was older,” suggests Emma. “I mean, she could easily pass for twenty-one. Don't you think? Any of us could.”

“Yeah.” Brittany points at Emma. “And some of us even have the fake ID to prove it.”

“Shut up!” Emma shoots back.

Brittany just laughs. “But it's true; Kayla could pass for being older.”

“Still, why would she go down there now?” I ask. “It's less than a month until winter break. She could've gone then.”

“She was obviously desperate to see him,” says Emma. “Remember she said he was hot? Maybe she was worried that some other chick was going to turn his head and steal his affections.” She laughs.

“Yeah,” Brittany says in a sarcastic tone. “Wonder where she'd ever get an idea like that,
EmmaT

“Hey, I went out with Parker before Kayla did.”

“One date does not count as
going out
with a guy, Emma,” says Amelia.

“But I really liked him.”

“Whatever!” Olivia shakes her head, and I can tell she's losing patience. “Back to Kayla now.”

“That's right,” I say. “Back to Kayla. Seriously Emma, do you really think she went down there to
marry
this Colby guy?”

Emma smiles, perhaps a little too smugly. “I think so. And furthermore, so does Kayla's very own mother.”

“But on the news last night,” Olivia reminds her, “her mom was so broken up. She was falling apart.”

“Duh.” Emma nods. “It's not like she's going to tell the whole world that her sixteen-year-old daughter ran off to marry a man in his twenties. Ya think?”

“Maybe not…” I frown as I consider this. “But something still doesn't quite ring true.”

Olivia gives me a curious look. “What do you think, Sam?”

I kind of shrug. “I don't know, but it just seems a little freaky that this Colby guy… I mean, this grown man who supposedly has it all together is seriously interested in Kayla, wanting to marry her? Even if she was pretending to
be older, it still doesn't make sense. Surely he could tell that she was, well, you know, kind of immature.”

“Ya'd think,” agrees Amelia.

“Unless he's really a nerd,” suggests Olivia. “Kayla might've exaggerated his good looks.”

“I wonder if there are any photos.” I glance at Emma.

“Nope. The police already searched everywhere. Nothing like that was found.”

“I don't buy that,” says Amelia. “Why would Kayla be so eager to run down there and marry this guy if he really was a nerd? Kayla is definitely not into nerd-types.”

“Good point.” Brittany nods.

“Okay, maybe it's just a hunch,” Emma says, “but I remember this time when Kayla and I were talking—back before the thing with Parker happened—and Kayla was saying how much she hated living at home. And you guys know how weird her mom's been since her dad left. Anyway, Kayla told me that the first chance she had to leave, she'd be outta there. She even told me how she would imagine Prince Charming coming to take her away. And yeah, it seemed silly at the'time, but looking back… I think that's just what she was looking for.”

“And you think she found her Prince Charming in Colby?” Olivia asks.

Emma nods. “And that's what I told the police.”

“Did they buy it?” I ask.

She shrugs. “I think they're looking into it.”

“Have they called her aunt in San Diego?”

“Of course, Samantha.” But Emma just shakes her head. “She hasn't heard a word from her.”

“Yeah,” I admit. “I guess that wouldn't be too smart. I mean, if she really does want to get married and not © be found.”

“So is that it?” asks Olivia. “We just figure Kayla has married Colby and that they'll live happily ever after?”

Amelia laughs. “Yeah, right. What are the odds of a marriage with a sixteen-year-old and a UCLA grad making it?”

“Maybe if it's just about the sex?” Emma suggests with a devious twinkle in her eye.

“You
would
say that,” says Brittany.

“Well, I think it's very sad.” Olivia frowns.

I nod. “I think it's tragic.”

“You mean the part about the sex?” teases Emma.

I shrug. “Whatever.”

“Okay, here comes the sweet little Christian lecture about how we should all be saving ourselves for our future husbands.” Emma looks directly at Olivia and me.

I glance at my watch. “Don't worry,” I say as I stand and pick up my tray. “There's no time for a sermon right now, but if you'd like to schedule something for, say—”

“No, no. That's okay.” Emma winks at me.

“Thanks for enlightening us about Kayla,” Olivia tells Emma. “I think…”

“I personally don't know what to think,” Brittany admits as we walk over to dump our trays.

“Yeah.” Amelia nods. “It's pretty bizarre.”

As I walk toward the science department, I'm thinking do about the “sermon” that I'd really like to give Emma. I'd like to explain that the reason God wants her to save sex for q marriage is only because He loves her so much that He wants her to have the best life possible. I'd like to say the same things my dad said to me back when I had just 5” turned twelve. Of course, it had seemed a little premature at the time, but then not long after our little talk, he was gone.

M
y first unusual dream involved a guinea pig and my dad. Oh, my dad wasn't in the dream, but he helped me to resolve it. I was about six at the time, and I had this vivid dream where I was actually the lost brown and white rodent.

The next morning, I explained to my dad how I'd been stuck in this cement tunnel-like thing. At first he didn't take me too seriously, but when I couldn't let it go and went on and on with detailed descriptions of how it felt to be trapped and how it was cold and damp and scary and how I knew that it was Porky—my neighbor's missing guinea pig—who was really trapped in the tunnel-like thing, Dad actually started to listen.

Suddenly he remembered some new houses that were going up on the street behind us, and he'd seen a truck just a few days before bringing in some of those “tunnel-like” things—he told me they were called culverts.

So he and I walked
over
to the site, and he explained the situation. I'm sure the construction guys never would've taken me seriously, but Dad, ready for his shift, was wearing his police uniform, and maybe the workers actually thought he was doing an official investigation.

Whatever the case, we went straight over to the one culvert that had been partially installed, and Dad talked them into moving some rocks and stuff. And there, trapped inside the cement tube, was Porky, the lost guinea pig.

“You got ESP or something?” one of the guys asked me as I cuddled the shivering guinea pig up to my chest.

“ES what?”

Dad just laughed. “It's a gift,” he told them. I had a few more dreams after that, not terribly dramatic, but when they turned out to be true, my dad took notice.

I was about twelve, not long after my Dad gave me his little sex talk, when I experienced another unusual dream. I didn't really understand it at the time, but I could tell it meant something.

I'm not unlike other people in that I have lots of dreams. And as far as I know, lots of my dreams don't mean a thing. They're just plain old dreams. Learning to differentiate between what is purely my brain entertaining itself while I'm catching z's and something that's meant to be a message from God hasn't been easy. In fact, I still don't have it totally figured out.

But the dream that caught my attention that time was about my dad. It wasn't exactly a bad dream, but I did wake up feeling extremely sad. I think I was actually crying. Although I wasn't-even sure why. I mean, the dream really wasn't that big of a deal. Or so I assumed at the time. I suppose I just brushed it off as nothing.

In that dream, Dad and I had been walking together along the top of this big stone wall. At first I'd been holding
his hand because I was afraid I was going to fall. The wall was so tall and steep that I couldn't even see the ground below us, just mist. But after a bit I started to relax.

It was fun hopping along from rock to rock, and I must've let go of his hand. And maybe I'd been talking or just not paying attention, but after a while I looked up and realized that my dad and I were no longer walking together. We were walking on two separate walls, about fifty feet apart, and between these walls stretched this huge gulf of just nothingness.

My dad waved to me from where he was walking on the other side, and he seemed perfectly fine. But I was confused and scared and couldn't figure out how I would get over there to join him. Not only that, but the more we walked, the farther apart the two walls became. There seemed no way to get back to him, and I woke up totally frustrated. But thinking it was just a weird dream, I never told anyone about it. Just mulled it over myself and then sort of forgot it.

Until three days later, when my dad was killed while on duty, shot by some creep who got caught cooking meth in his basement. Dad died instantly, and we never got a chance to say good-bye or I love you or anything.

The minute I heard the news, I remembered my dream. That's when I knew that it had been a warning. But I also knew that I had failed to heed it. I had failed my own father—the only person who really understood my gift, the only person who really got me. Consequently, I was drowning in guilt. And I was mad at God.

During the next couple of years, I didn't completely turn my back on God, but I was so hurt and confused that I tried to ignore Him. I also never wanted to experience that “gift” again. The “gift,” I had decided by that time, was actually a curse in disguise. Something to be avoided at all o costs. I wanted no part of it.

For the first time in my life, I felt very much alone. I deeply missed my dad, and I was pushing away my heavenly Father too. And as a result, I was totally miserable. My whole family was suffering over the loss of Dad. My older brother, Zach, started getting into trouble, and I began to get into ridiculous fights with my mom. And not unlike Porky the guinea pig, I felt trapped in this cold, dark hole that only seemed to get deeper. There seemed no way out, and it was lonely down there.

Finally I got tired of my depressed isolation. And as much as I missed my dad, I began to miss God even more. I had just turned fifteen, and it was the summer before our sophomore year, and somehow Olivia talked me into going on a youth group retreat with her. I hadn't been involved with youth group for a couple of years by then, and Mom had long since given up trying to get me to go. Her hands were already full with her job at the park district, plus Zach and his problems. I'd pretty much been doing as I liked. Which wasn't anything exciting.

Anyway, I reluctantly went with Olivia to the retreat, and after several days of stoiclike resistance to the programs and messages, God got to me. God got to me in a very big way, and I knew that I'd been a fool to think I could
avoid Him. More than that, I knew that I'd never ever
TL
leave Him again. And it was shortly after that retreat that I experienced the gift again. But this time I was wide awake. It wasn't a dream. It was a vision.

It's hard to describe what it was like. I mean, my eyes were wide open, and I was just sitting out in the backyard, in the old tree house Dad and Zach had built ages ago, actually praying, when it happened. Suddenly I saw something unreal—like something that was lit up. But it wasn't like watching a movie exactly. It was more like this flash, like an image I saw in my mind as much as it seemed like I saw it with my eyes. And I suspect it happened really fast.

At first I thought I was having a stroke or an aneurysm since it was kind of like a burst of light inside my brain. But as I focused and concentrated, trying to recall what I'd actually seen, I got this strong sensation of peace. And I knew what I'd experienced was a God-thing. And as weird as it sounds, it's like I got this sneak peek into heaven, and I know that it was my dad standing there in front of me, and I know that he was happy. As simple as that, and yet it was so incredibly strong arid vivid and real. Amazingly cool. And right there, sitting in the musty old tree house, I lifted my hands and praised God.