Misdirected (4 page)

A few hands go up. They walk up to the stage and line up.

The first kid says, “I thought we could do a food drive and help stock the soup kitchen. Then maybe they'll let us talk to people about God while we serve food.”

The second kid is Kenny, the blond guy who invited me to his church.

“Right now my brother is fighting the war in Iraq. He said they really like getting letters. I thought we could start a pen-pal program to show them they aren't forgotten.”

Suddenly I feel like crap for not having written to Pete in over a month. We talk on the phone every few weeks and I know my mom and dad email him. I've been so busy with the move that I've sort of ignored him. I'll write to him this week.

A tall upper-classman walks up to the mic and says, “I think we should put together a talent-show fundraiser to raise money for sick kids who don't have insurance at the hospital. And after we've raised the money, we should go and perform for all the kids when we give them the check.”

A few more students stand up and offer their ideas.

“We'll choose a few of these ideas and announce them soon,” Frank says. “Stop by and see me sometime this week to let me know which one you want to help out with.”

As much as the being saved thing weirds me out, this whole volunteering thing is pretty damn awesome. If we do that talent show, I could do magic for the kids. Though I don't really like the idea of Christians trying to convert people while volunteering. I mean, what's wrong with Buddhism or Islam or not believing? I'm a good person. Most of the time. To me, all the gods out there sound like Santa Claus. It would be great if he were real but I haven't seen any evidence.

After the assembly I book it toward the door. I want to get home. I want to call Seth or Margaret and tell them about what I've just witnessed. I want to know what being saved means.

 

 

Chapter 5

I May Not Be Saved, But I
'
m Nice

T
hat night I text Margaret and Seth and they agree. It's way different from our school in Mass. They think it's hilarious that I'm going to church on Sunday. And they're right. It's funny. Why would a kid who doesn't believe in god go to church? It sounds like the beginning of a bad joke. It's not. I need to make friends and if that's where the kids go, that's where I need to be. Otherwise, the next three years are going to suck.

Neither of them know what being “saved” means. I tell them about the girl's story and how god came to her or whatever. Margaret thinks they sound like they're in a cult.

I'm just about to Google the word
saved
when I look out my window and notice that Tess's light is still on. Her desk is in front of the window and I can see her sitting in front of her computer. I stand and start jumping and waving my arms to try to get her attention. After about two minutes when I'm almost out of breath, she finally looks up. She looks surprised for a second. Then mouths, “What?”

I point to the street and mouth, “Go downstairs.”

She looks at me like I'm crazy and says, “No!”

“Pleeeeeeaaaaase,” I say with my hands together.

Tess rolls her eyes, looks suspiciously to the left and right, and then holds her finger up as if to say,
one minute
.

I sneak downstairs and grab Holly's leash. If my parents figure out I'm gone, I can say Holly really had to pee. She looks a little confused, but excited that she gets an extra walk.

Tess takes a few minutes to come outside. We sneak away from the street lamp and sit on the edge of her yard, behind a big shrub.

“What could possibly be so important that you made me sneak out?”

“It's barely sneaking out. You haven't left your property.”

“I'm cavorting with a known atheist. And a boy. It's a big deal to my parents.”

“When you say it like that, it's like I'm a kitten killer or something.”

“I don't think you kill kittens, and I don't think atheists are bad people. What you believe is what you believe. Be proud of it.”

“Proud of my atheism? It is an
ism
, right?”

“Yeah,” she says laughing. “It's an
ism
. It's a belief even if it means you don't believe.”

“How would your parents know what I do or don't believe?”

“Obviously Angela told them.”

“Does that mean they don't like me?”

“It's not that they don't like you. They just think you'll be a bad influence. I guess I could tell them I'm trying to save you.”

“Okay, what does that mean? I had no idea what was going on at the assembly today.”

“In that faith, it's not good enough just to believe in God. Jesus died for our sins and to truly be accepted into heaven and show our love we have to have our moment. Our moment when the Holy Spirit comes into our bodies and we have felt touched by the Lord.”

“What if you don't get saved?”

“You go to hell.”

“Jesus Christ. Are you kidding?”

“No. And when you're around me, please don't swear.”

“Oh. At home it's not really thought of as a swear.”

“It definitely is here.”

“Sorry.”

“That's okay. It's just good to know the ropes so you don't offend people. Especially the people who are nice to you.” She smiles and pushes me in the shoulder.

Holly rolls over onto her back and Tess rubs her belly.

“What about Catholics and Jews and Hindus and everyone else?” I ask.

“What do you mean?”

“Where do they go when they die?”

“Hell. At least according to most people here.”

“That's messed up.”

“It's only messed up if you believe it,” she says.

“You don't?”

She pauses for a minute, looks back at the house, and then straight into my eyes. “Look, I'm going to tell you something I've never told anyone but my brother. Can you keep a secret?”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“I think the Christians around here have it wrong.”

“But you still believe in god?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think I'm going to hell?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I believe that Jesus died for our sins and that counts for everyone. You don't have to be saved to go to heaven. We're all going no matter what we believe.”

“You think your parents would be mad if they knew? You're still religious.”

“They would think I'm going to hell and I don't want to put them through that. They've already lost one son. I don't want them to think they lost me too.”

“They chose to lose their son. It's not like he died.”

“It's really complicated. I know it's devastating for them but they don't want him to be a bad influence on the rest of us.”

“Isn't it harder on your brother than it is on your parents?”

“Probably equal.”

“Do you still talk to your brother?”

“I'm not supposed to but I email him all the time. I haven't seen him in two years though.”

“Where is he?”

“Denver.”

“That's not so far.”

“It's really far when you're me.”

“I'm sorry,” I say, unable to think of anything else.

“Well, in a few years I'll be in college and then I'll be able to see him.” Tess looks nervously back at her house. “I should get back inside,” she says.

“Tess?” I say.

“Yeah,” she whispers.

“Thanks for coming out here and for, you know, being so cool.”

She smiles and moves her hair away from her face. “No problem.”

 

 

Chapter 6

Chimps Have Feelings Too

Tess and I hang out every lunch period for the rest of the week. She says that everyone knows I'm an atheist. No one has said a single thing to me about it and that‘s fine by me. Different beliefs cohabitating in the same school. That's how it should be.

No one besides Tess has really made an effort to get to know me. Kenny and the other guys I'm going to church with this weekend give me a high five or pat me on the back whenever we pass each other in the hall and say, “Sunday!” But that's about it. Back at home if someone did that, they would be excited about a Red Sox or Patriots game, not church.

We start getting homework assignments and things are pretty similar to my old school, although the teachers always seem to find a way to connect the day's subjects back to the Bible. It's annoying but I just ignore those parts. I even find that I'm not swearing. Without hearing it all the time in the halls, it's just fading out of my vocabulary. I'm even making an effort not to say Jesus Christ. Not because I think I'm offending god or anything. I don't want to offend Tess.

The teachers seem pretty good. For our first book in English class, Mrs. Daniels gave out copies of
Beowulf
. I've already read the graphic novel version so it should be easy. We get to pick some of our own reading. Sadly, I doubt Mrs. Daniels would let me bring in
Bone
or
Y: The Last Man
. It's annoying that teachers still don't think graphic novels are real books. I've learned more about math from
Logicomix
than I learned from any teacher.

Up until Friday, I'm able to get by without offending anyone. I'm feeling like a model student. Even if I barely talk. Then Mr. Thompson, the science teacher, answers a kid's question about creation during fourth period.

Mr. Thompson says, “Scientists try to explain God's creation as something that came from a big pile of goo instead of from the Almighty. In my class, we're only going to study science that is proven and that hasn't been
poisoned
by evolution. You know,” he says with a frown, “the belief that humans evolved from monkeys.”

All the students in the room (except me) crack up like that was the funniest thing ever.

I raise my hand.

“Yes, Ben?”

“We did evolve. I mean, there is proof. I watched a documentary about it and they had all sorts of skeletons that show what human ancestors were like hundreds of thousands of years ago.”

The class is silent. Mr. Thompson smiles at me.

“Ben, Earth is just under six thousand years old. That's when it was created. That's when man was created. That's fact. What you saw was scientific propaganda.”

“But they have things like carbon dating that prove Earth is way older. Like a few billion years older. The creation stuff in the Bible is just a myth, right? I mean, every religion has one. A story that tells how the universe was created.”

“And you believe you're related to primates?” he asks.

“Well, yeah.”

The class starts laughing.

“You're new here, Ben, so you'll need some time to adjust. I recommend you pick up a book at the school library on creationism so you can get the facts down. Otherwise, you might find yourself saying incorrect things without meaning to. Because right now you're saying things that will get you a seat in detention . . . and in hell. And I don't think any of us want that, now do we?”

At this point, I decide to stop talking. I keep my head down and avoid eye contact with the rest of the class. I feel them staring at me. Like I'm stupid and maybe even a little bit evil. Like after class, I might just go sell some drugs in the cafeteria.

When class ends, I grab my stuff and get out of there as fast as possible. But not before hearing some kid making “Ooh oooh” monkey noises as I run by. Fan-freaking-tastic. I'm going to be the monkey-atheist kid heading for hell at top speed.

I'm going to have to do something to reverse my rep here. If I were Seth, I'd just be a starter on the soccer team and make friends that way. There is no magic club. I could start one, but I doubt anyone else would join.

So on Friday I go to Frank's office to sign up for one of the community service committees. I'll have something to do after school and be seen as a good guy at the same time. I knock on the door and he invites me in.

“Hi, I'm Ben. I wanted to volunteer for one of the committees for the community service project.”

“Yeah, of course. Take a seat.”

I sit down and he takes out a few lists attached to a clipboard.

“You're new here, right?”

“Yeah. Just moved here last week.”

“Welcome. I think I've heard about you.”

“Really? What have you heard?”

“How has everyone been treating you?” he asks, ignoring my question.

“Okay, I guess.”

“Good. Good.”

“Has anyone signed up for the pen pal one with people in the service?”

“A few,” he says. “Is that the one you want to join?'

“No. Just wanted to see if people were doing it.”

“Got family in the service?”

“My brother.”

“God bless him,” Frank says, smiling at me kind of creepily. I just nod awkwardly until he looks back at his papers and says, “What committee would you like to join?”

“I really liked the idea of doing a talent show for sick kids. Did that idea get chosen?”

“It did. Meetings start in two weeks. I'll be posting the schedule next week. These things take a lot of planning. I'm glad you're joining in.”

“We didn't really have stuff like this at my last school.”

“No fundraisers?” he asks.

“Well, we had a few bake sales, but the money always went to the school. I like that these projects help other people.”

“That's what we like here. Service is a big part of this school. Whether it's worshipping the Lord or helping those in need, we're there. You know,” he says, squinting at me intensely, “in case you were wondering, good deeds aren't what make you glorious in God's eyes. I mean, sure, He loves good deeds. But if it's heaven you're worried about, just accepting Him and worshipping Him is all He requires. Good deeds alone don't get you into heaven.”

“Actually, I just really like volunteering. But thanks. That's, uh, really interesting.”

“Well, if you have any questions about school or faith or anything at all, I'd like you to know that you can come talk to me.”

“Sure. Thanks. Well, I should get to my next class.”

“Thanks for stopping by.”

I close his door behind me and shake my head. They really like reminding people about hell around here. How could it not matter whether or not you're a good person? What the hell does Jesus want from a kid anyway? If being nice doesn't even win me any points in this Christian town, how am I going spend the next three years here?

After school, Tess and I pick up her little brothers from the elementary school and walk home together. Angela stays late and plays basketball, so it's up to Tess to walk the boys home.

Every day, once we hit our street, I hang back while they walk to her house. Tess said, “It's just easier if they don't know how much we're hanging out.”

Today her dad drives by as we're walking, stops the car, and says, “Kids, get in.” Without hesitation, they do.

No,
Hello, new kid. Welcome to the block.
Not even a nod in my direction.

I walk the rest of the way home alone. About two minutes after I walk in the door my cell phone rings. It's Tess.

“I'm sorry about my dad.”

“Yeah, well. It's a good thing he didn't hear me talk in science today. He might have run me down too.”

“I told him you're going to church on Sunday.”

“Was he impressed?”

“It was a start . . .”

“What do you mean by a start?”

“I kind of had to tell him that I'm trying to save you. And that you're into it.”

“Okay, sure. If that gets him off your back.”

“I wish it were that easy. He wants you to come to dinner on Sunday to prove your dedication.”

“Crap. Seriously?”

“I wouldn't ask, but I won't be allowed to hang out with you anymore if you don't.”

“Okay. I guess I'll be there.”

“One more thing . . .”

“What?”

“It would be helpful if you started reading the Bible.”

“You've got to be kidding me.”

“You don't have to read much. Just enough to show that you want to learn.”

I hesitate.

“We can do it together. I'll help you.”

“Deal.”

I hang up and immediately call Seth's house. He's going to laugh his ass off.

There's no answer. Then I call Margaret. Neither is home. I try Seth's cell. He picks up and I hear giggling in the background.

“Hey, dude,” I say.

“Hey, man. What's up?”

“Nothing. Just calling to see how the first week went.”

I hear a girl's voice in the background and then it sounds like the phone is being muffled under someone's hand.

“Hello?” I say.

“Yeah, Ben. Actually I've got to go. Busy night.”

“Oh. Okay. Are you with Margaret?”

“Um, yeah. Look, I'll give you a call tomorrow.”

I open my mouth to say,
cool, later,
but he already hung up. Uh, yeah. Missed you guys too. My week was strange and I have to lie to everyone in order to fit in. Thanks for asking.