Misdirected (5 page)

 

 

Chapter 7

Jesus Was a Zombie

At 3 p.m. on Saturday, Tess comes over with her own Bible. Because we don't actually have one. I asked my mom and the best she could come up with was some self-help book about finding spirituality. Whatever that means.

My mom opens the door and invites Tess in. She asks Tess a few questions about herself. You know, the way annoying adults do sometimes. But Tess is like an adult expert. She's funny. She compliments one of the pictures on the wall and they talk about it. I mean, I'm polite with adults. Tess almost
is
an adult. She says to my mom, “Oh, really? A woodcut? The lines are beautiful.” I don't even know what a woodcut is and the thing hangs in my house.

I give my mom a look that says,
enough
, and she takes the hint.

“Well, I'll leave you two alone. Let your dad know if you get hungry. He'll throw together some snacks. I've got a few errands to run.”

As we walk upstairs, Tess asks, “Your dad cooks?”

“My dad is an awesome cook.”

“Wow. My dad can hardly make a sandwich.”

“He works from home, so it's easier for him to do stuff like that. Plus, my mom hates cooking. She'd order take out every night if she was left in charge.”

“That's what my dad does when my mom leaves to visit my grandma in Lone Tree,” says Tess.

I open the door to my room and Tess walks in ahead of me. She looks around, turning in a complete circle, and starts touching things on my shelves.

“What's this?” she asks.

“A poster I got at this show in Boston. They had the world's top magicians all together for one night. It was incredible.”

“Wow. Can you do any of the stuff they do?”

“The really easy stuff. But their easy tricks for the average person are really hard, so it's still pretty good. My friend Margaret is better though.”

“That's the girl you hung out with back home, right?”

“Yeah. She and I did magic together all the time.”

“Were you guys, like, an item?” Tess asks.

“No. Just friends.”

She sort of nods her head and then takes her shoes off and sits with her legs crossed on my bed.

I just sort of stand there. Do I sit next to her? Or on my desk chair? I mean, is it weird to sit next to a girl on a bed, even if it's your bed, and she sat there first?

“I could do some magic for you, if you want,” I say, still standing.

“Um, Ben? How about you sit?”

She moves over and pats the bed next to her and then takes out her Bible.

This is the first time any girl other than Margaret has been in my room, let alone on my bed, and the first thing she does is take out a Bible. Fan-fricking-tastic.

I sit down a few inches away from her. She sighs and inches closer to me so that her knee is touching my leg. My heart is racing a bit and I'm not sure if she knows it. She doesn't look nervous at all. I'm so nervous that I'm starting to sweat.

“So, what do you know about the Bible?” she asks.

“Um, just what I learned in Catholic school. How Jesus was born and how he died, and then came back to life like some do-gooder zombie and then died again.”

“Zombie?” she asks, shaking her head at me.

“A nice zombie.”

She laughs. “That is so incredibly disrespectful. And anyway, he can't be a zombie because zombies stay dead. Jesus actually comes back to life. And he eats food. Not brains.”

“I like that you're making an actual argument against Jesus being a zombie.”

“It's kind of funny even if it's totally offensive. Just please please please don't say anything like that at dinner!”

“Okay. Well, what else? I know about Noah and how god killed people with a flood and with disease when he got kind of pissed off at humans.”

“Wow. You really latched on to the important stuff, huh?”

“Some of those stories would make for a good horror movie. I mean, they talk about the people on the ark who were saved. Everyone else drowned and died a horrible gasping death. That's genocide. Shouldn't he have sent himself to hell for a move like that?”

“Well, that's the Old Testament. God was a little judgier in that one. What do you know about the New Testament? Do you know any of the Apostles? Or any of the Gospels?”

“Well, I only liked the bad-ass stories. The other stuff was kind of boring. I might have zoned out during those parts, if they taught them at all. It wasn't a super- religious school, not compared to here.”

“Well, I'm going to give you a quick rundown of the highlights.”

For the next thirty minutes, Tess starts talking about the New Testament like a teacher would. Totally full of facts and thoughts of her own mixed with stuff her parents and the church taught her. I feel like I'm cramming for a final exam. I even jot down a few notes.

After a while I get kind of bored, but Tess is so into it, so I decide that right now I've got a great excuse just to look at her. I don't think I was fair to her that first day we met. I mean, her hot sister was there so Tess probably doesn't get noticed as much around her. She's really pretty. She doesn't wear makeup or tight clothes like other girls so it's just not as obvious. She has hazel eyes, dark brown hair, and light freckled skin. And even though she wears baggy shirts, she still has boobs.

“Ben?”

“Huh?”

“I said, you're going to need a favorite Apostle. I was thinking you could like Peter since he's my dad's favorite. That okay for you?”

“Is it like baseball? You need a favorite team?”

“It will give you stuff to talk about, if he grills you on the Bible. And he might.”

“It will be easy to remember anyway. That's my brother's name.”

“Where does your brother live?”

“He's stationed in Iraq right now but he'll be coming here in December.”

“That has to be hard for you.”

“I'm here. It's easy for me. It's hard on him. I don't think his idea of being in the army turned out to be what he expected. He says there are two emotions in the desert. Bored and scared.”

“I think I'd rather be bored,” says Tess.

“Even when you're bored, you're still kind of scared, right? I mean, war is about waiting for bad stuff to happen, or knowing that it might happen.”

“Your brother must be really brave.”

“I don't think he has much of a choice. He makes a lot of jokes about it though. He says that for a bunch of eighteen to twenty-five-year-olds holding guns and facing the possibility of death, there is a surprising amount of laughing that goes on.”

“People can't deal with being scared all the time,” says Tess. “It would be too much. Making jokes must help keep their minds off the scary stuff.”

“I feel bad sometimes. You know, I'll be doing magic or watching some stupid movie and I'll forget, for even like an entire day that he's over there. Then I feel like this bad person for living my life while he's risking his.”

“It's exactly what your brother is doing though. Occupying his mind with something else because it's too hard to think of what could happen every second of every day. Don't feel bad about it. You need it. Otherwise you'd just sit here and worry.” Tess kind of smiles sadly at me and puts her hand on mine and says, “Soldiers want everyone to live their lives. That's why they're there, right? He probably just wants you to be a kid. ”

We're silent for a few seconds and Tess's hand is so obviously on mine. I don't think either of us knows what to do, so she lifts it off and I say, “Can you leave your Bible here so I can read up on this Peter guy?”

“Yes. That's probably a good idea,” she says, rubbing her hands together.

“You're my first friend that came with homework, you know that?”

“You're the first friend I've lied to my parents for.”

“You win.”

“So why don't you show me some magic?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I'm interested.”

“Prepare to be amazed. Or, you know, mildly entertained.”

 

 

Chapter 8

Sunday is Church Day, Not Sleep until Noon Day

On Sunday morning, my mom wakes me up, sets down a respectable shirt and pants (because obviously I can't be trusted to dress myself), and tells me to get in the shower. I need to be ready in half an hour when Kenny picks me up for church. I just finish eating some cereal when there's a knock at the door. It's Kenny and his mom.

“Hi, Ben. I'm so glad you'll be coming with us today,” she says. “I was hoping I could just say a quick hello to your mom.”

“Sure, hang on.” I run to the bottom of the stairs and yell, “Mom!”

She comes downstairs, whispers “Don't shout” as she passes by me and then puts on a big smile as she greets Kenny's mom. Kenny motions for me to follow him out to the car.

I feel a little overdressed. Kenny is wearing jeans and a T-shirt while I'm in khakis and a dress shirt. We get into the car and he introduces me to his dad, a tall, fat, bald man wearing a bowtie. There's some rock music playing, but the more I listen to the lyrics, the more I hear that even though it's rock, it's not the kind of rock I might listen to. It's rock devoted to god. All the same, I say, “Cool music.”

“Thanks. This band is awesome. I'll burn you a CD if you want,” he says.

His dad gives him a look.

“Actually, I can just lend you my copy.”

Kenny's dad asks, “Have you ever been to a mega church before?”

“Just a Catholic church back home. It wasn't called mega or anything.”

“So you're Catholic?” he asks.

“Um, well, not really.”

“Perhaps you'll find that Southern Baptist suits you better, although there will be many different denominations there today.”

Kenny's mom gets back in the car and we hit the road.

After about twenty minutes, I ask, “So, how far is this place?”

“It's in Colorado Springs, so about an hour away,” says his mom.

“It's kinda far. Most people from Forest Ridge go. You'll see, it's awesome,” says Kenny.

I kick off my shoes in the backseat and dig in for a longer trip than I expected. This place had better be impressive.

When we finally pull in, I see why they pass on the small church in town and drive out to this thing. The parking lot alone could be for a concert or a movie theater. It's huge. We ditch his parents and Kenny texts Stan and Arty to meet us in the front of the building. Now that I'm looking around, I see a lot of familiar faces. Tess wasn't kidding. Even though we're an hour away from home, everyone is here.

I walk in with the guys. We head over to the first seats we find open closest to the stage. Yes, I said stage. Not pulpit or platform. There is a microphone, drum set, keyboard, and guitar up there. This church could host a Coldplay concert. I can't even begin to guess how many seats are in here. Thousands?

Kenny, Stan, and Arty are talking about the school football team. They are all on it and from what I can tell, they think they're pretty damn good. They talk about plays and the coach and a whole bunch of other stuff before Arty realizes I'm just sitting there staring at the back of the head in front of me.

“You play any ball?” asks Arty.

“No. I'm not really into sports.”

“What are you into?”

“I like magic. Games. Comics. Mostly, I like practicing new tricks.”

“Cool,” says Kenny. “Maybe you can show us some sometime.”

“Yeah, sure. And I'll definitely make it to some games.”

Kenny says, “So I've seen you around with Tess a bunch. Are you guys together?”

“Oh no. Just friends.”

“She's cute though,” says Stan.

“Not as cute as her sister,” says Kenny.

“So true. Angela is smoking,” says Stan.

“And if you tell her she's hot, she might meet you behind the bleachers.”

“So, you guys can date?” I ask.

They laugh. “What do you think we are, dude?” asks Kenny.

“I just didn't know with, you know, your religion and stuff, if you were allowed to date.”

“Yeah, man, we can date,” says Stan.

There is an awkward silence for a minute. I'm trying to think of something to say but nothing comes to mind. Then I remember.

I say to Kenny, “That's awesome they chose your pen-pal idea. You know, writing to soldiers?”

“Yeah. My brother likes getting letters,” he says. “Especially from girls.”

“My brother is in Iraq too. He's coming home in early December though.”

“Cool. Mine is coming home in mid-December. Just in time for Christmas.”

“It's gonna be my brother's first time to Colorado. Maybe they could hang or something,” I say.

A man steps up to the microphone and starts talking. The room immediately goes quiet. Everyone is focused on him.

The guy starts out decently enough, talking about scripture from some place in the Bible. Arty gives me a book and points me to the page. It's like opening
Moby Dick
in the middle. If you haven't read what comes before, you're not going to have a clue what's happening. Not that I've read
Moby Dick
, but my sister has.

Eventually he gets to the stuff I keep hearing about. How Jesus saves people. How we have a choice. The way he phrases it, it doesn't sound like we have much of a choice. It's more like, if you love Jesus, you're golden. If you don't, you might as well reserve your spot in the burning hellfire now.

He says either we can walk around like half-dead people with nothing good inside of us. That is to say, live without devoting our lives to Jesus. Or, we can accept Jesus and be happy.

I wish I could say I'm making this stuff up, but that's seriously what he's saying. That I'm half dead and not worth anything because I don't believe in god.

Now, I wish I wasn't here at all. In a room where everyone basically thinks I'm an awful person because I don't worship the god they worship. I don't worship anyone! (Maybe Houdini.)

The guy on stage goes even further and says that if you haven't been saved, you're an enemy of god. An enemy! Now that I'm in a room surrounded by people, thousands of people who think that I'll be bunking with Satan, it feels awful. Stan, Arty, and Kenny keep nodding their heads in agreement. At least when they aren't checking out the girls in the seats in front of us.

I look around and there are kids all over the place. Babies, toddlers, all the way up through teenagers. They come here every week and hear about how bad they are up until the moment they're saved. If I heard this stuff when I was five, I'd have been freaking terrified! Of course they say they believe in Jesus. The only other option is to be a half-dead enemy of Christ who goes to hell.

No wonder no one at school talks to me. I
am
an atheist. I don't believe this crap. I mean, a god? Really? And why this one? Why not any of the thousands of others throughout history? Cupid was a god once. Or worshipped as one. Now he just sells greeting cards. It's stupid.

After about forty-five minutes of talking and repeating the same things over and over—seriously, there is a ridiculous amount of repetition—the guy finally introduces the next act. A band goes up, the lights dim and here I am at 11 a.m. on a Sunday watching a rock concert. Everyone stands up and sings along to the music. It's like what was playing in Kenny's car. Rock music laced with the message of god. Kenny even does some fist pumping into the air.

I look for Tess in the crowd and eventually find her sitting with her family. Angela is a few rows over with a group of friends. Tess chooses to stay with her brothers. Her friend Beth is sitting next to her too.

Tess isn't swaying back and forth like other people, or giving the
I love you
look that other high school girls are giving the band. Parents stand, interested, but lacking the enthusiasm of the teenagers.

The band plays a few songs, there are a couple more prayers, and then, it's over. The band was way more fun than the sermon, but I couldn't imagine doing this every week. That preacher guy was basically saying I would burn in hell. Was he trying to scare me into believing? Or just shame me into it?

The preacher ends the sermon with a sentence that makes me cringe. He says, “If you want to know about having everlasting peace, come on up to one of our people and they'll direct you to someone who can talk to you about it.”

Damn.

“We can wait around for a bit so you can talk to the preacher, ” says Kenny.

“Maybe next time,” I say carefully. “I don't want to hold anybody up. It's a long drive home.”

“Your eternal soul doesn't like to wait. Come on. Don't be a coward.”

Kenny grabs my arms and pulls me up toward the front, around the side of the stage and into the back. We stop in front of an office with the door open. He gives me a push into the room and then I'm standing in front of a preacher, a different one than the guy who spoke. He's smiling at me like a Miss America pageant contestant.

“Welcome. I don't think we've met. I'm Christopher.”

“Uh. Hi. I'm Ben.”

“Welcome, Ben. Would you like to have a seat?”

I look out of the office window to see Kenny smiling at me.

“Oh. Actually, my friend just wanted me to come in here, but I'm okay.”

“If your friend thought you needed to see me, maybe you do. Have you been saved, Ben?”

“Oh god. I mean, um, well, I'm, uh, I've got to go. Thanks and everything. This just isn't my thing.”

I awkwardly back out of the room. Christopher is still smiling his creepy artificial smile. I don't even look behind me as I shuffle backward and end up walking straight into Kenny.

“That was fast,” he says.

“Yeah. I think it's a bit too soon for me. Maybe next time,” I say.

“None of us knows when it's our turn. There won't always be a next time.”

“Thanks, dude. I just, I think I want to get home. I've got a lot of homework.”

Kenny shrugs and we walk back to the other guys.

I see Arty and Stan looking at Kenny, and Kenny giving them a disappointed head shake.

Kenny says, “So, church again next week?”

It all feels like being force-fed rotten Brussels sprouts and being expected to act like you're being offered cake.

“Let me talk to my parents. I'll let you know.”

The guys are looking at me like they're let down. Like they really thought two hours in church was going to make me believe. Maybe if the preacher wasn't such a jerk to people who aren't saved, I could handle it. Spending two hours out of every weekend listening to some guy tell me I suck isn't fun. And if ten years of Catholic school didn't convert me, why would two hours of this? I mean, Catholics have hell and damnation too. They just get their point across with boring church music instead of with the Christian version of Nickelback.

Kenny, Arty, Stan, and I continue to shuffle through the aisle with all the other people to get outside. A few steps in front of us is that freshman kid who was sitting behind me and staring at me during the school assembly. He's holding his mom's hand. Just as I notice, I see that the guys are looking at him too.

Suddenly Kenny starts staggering and pretending that he's drunk. He even mimes holding a bottle up to his mouth to drink. The kid in front of us hears Arty and Stan laughing and turns to look back for just a second. Long enough to see what Kenny is doing, and then he speeds up a little.

“Dude,” I say angrily.

“What? That kid's mom is a drunk. Plus, I think he's a queer.”

“So?” I ask.

“Don't tell me you're a homo. Is that why you haven't hooked up with Tess?”

“I'm not gay,” I say. In my mind I add
there is nothing wrong with being gay
but the words never leave my mouth.

Kenny says, “Man, you really do need to come to church. You're even worse off than I thought. A freaking fag sympathizer.” Kenny stops walking, faces me, and takes hold of my shoulders. “I'm going to let you in on some truth, straight out of the Bible. Faggots are disgusting. They are filthy sinners and they should all be kept away from us normal people.”

I remove his hands from my shoulders and say, “You've never even met a gay person, have you?”

“Heck no, I haven't. What do you think I am?!”

I want to tell him he's an ignorant, homophobic moron. Instead I flake out. I shake my head and walk back to the car without looking at any of the guys. I want to get away from them, but there are too many people, including the kid who they were teasing. I want to tap the kid on the shoulder and say
I'm not with them
, but he pulls his mom back into the rows of seats and heads for a different exit.

I keep walking and hear Arty say, “Maybe he's a fag too.”

The car ride sucks. Kenny's parents ask me how I liked church and say they don't mind picking me up if I want to go again.

I say, “I can't next week but thanks.“ What I really want to say is,
did you raise your kid to be a bigot? Or did that massive, hateful church make him that way?
I still say nothing. My sister would think I'm a wuss. Maybe I am.

They pull up to my street. The first thing I do is look at Tess's house and think
damn
. I'm having dinner there tonight and I'm supposed to pretend to be on the road to conversion. It's either lie, or lose the only friend I've got.

I don't even know if Tess's version of Christianity is cool with gay people. What if she's not? What would I do?