And It Was Good (Jessica Christ Book 2) Read online

  She kept her eyes glued to the sketch of a dog’s digestive system that she was supposed to be labeling. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “You can’t,” he insisted. “I think you’d be great at it.”

  “Well I don’t and you can’t pressure me to do anything I don’t want to do.”

  “What?”

  “Sorry if I’m not what you wanted me to be.”

  He was silent for a moment. Then, “I don’t want you to be anything you aren’t. I just … Okay. No debate team.”

  Jess added the last few labels to her sketch while Greg drew a dog’s skeletal structure, and they worked in silence.

  Because of their exceptional focus, they finished their assignment early, which left them sitting together without anything to do.

  “I’m just going to end up failing again,” Jess said. “I’m tired of it.”

  “Hey.” Greg placed his hand gently on her shoulder. “I don’t want to pressure you into it. I don’t think you’ll fail, but if you feel like you will, you don’t have to do it.”

  Jess sighed and wished she could be angry enough to knock his hand off her shoulder. It was her exhaustion in its quest for the path of least resistance that eventually caused her to give in. “Fine. Okay. I’ll give it a shot.”

  “I think you’ll like it.” Greg squeezed her shoulder and then moved his hand back onto the table. “And if you don’t, you just leave. No worries.”

  “All right. Fine.”

  “The tryouts are in pairs. I tell you what. I was going to partner up with Drew, but if you’re actually willing to do this, I’ll be on your team instead.”

  The idea of being on a team with him—by choice, publicly—sounded like a quick way to piss off Sandra. But at the same time, she didn’t know who else was trying out and she didn’t want to be the only one without a partner. “You sure Drew won’t feel screwed?”

  “Psh, he’ll be fine.”

  So it was settled. She and Greg were a team.

  The decision only singed her nerves further, though, as a parade of new fears marched through her mind for the rest of the afternoon.

  In the fifteen minutes between when school let out and when the debate tryouts started, Greg managed to give Jess a fairly thorough review of the format. They’d be given a statement and would have five minutes to prepare an argument either for or against it.

  The debate teacher, Mr. Bauer, had set up a row of chairs against the wall in the hallway outside of his classroom, and pairs were brought in two at a time to debate. Waiting in the hallway did nothing to help her nerves.

  Drew was in the group ahead of theirs, and when he left the classroom wearing a smug expression, he flashed Greg and Jess a half grin and said, “Good luck.” Then he chuckled. Jess didn’t like that chuckle. Something was up.

  And when she walked into Mr. Bauer’s classroom and saw the statement on the board, she felt her heart sink: Claim: God does not exist.

  How was that even legal to debate?

  Apparently at least part of her reputation preceded her, because Mr. Bauer, whose class she’d never taken, did a double-take when she walked in, and his eyes flickered to the debate topic and then back to her again. Good. It wasn’t just her who felt awkward now.

  “Oh man. This is good.” Greg actually sounded excited and quickly called dibs on the affirmative side of the argument, leaving the other pair with the dissenting position. She’d seen both boys strutting the halls all year, always in their khaki shorts and pastel polo shirts, but she wasn’t sure of their names. One was probably Roger. The other was probably Brad. No, more likely Bradley. She passionately disliked both of them.

  The five minutes of prep started once the two teams split onto opposite sides of the room. “We’re going to kill this,” Greg said. Then, finally, it seemed to dawn on him who he was talking to. Jessica didn’t actually find the time it took for that realization to occur all that surprising, considering he’d never believed her claim about being the daughter of God. “Oh. Um. Well, the thing about debate is that sometimes you argue a side you don’t believe in.”

  “Don’t worry,” Jess said. “I’m not offended.”

  Greg nodded. “Okay, cool. How about this. You’ll be a perfect devil’s advocate, er, I mean … well, you’ll argue in favor of God existing so that I can come up with stronger counterarguments. That make sense?”

  Jess nodded.

  “Okay. First argument. God is defined as omnipotent. And as such, could He create a rock that He couldn’t lift?”

  Jess waited for him to answer then realized he was waiting for her to answer. “Oh. I don’t know.” She shook her head vaguely.

  He waved her on enthusiastically. “No, you give me a rebuttal.”

  “But I don’t have one. Other than I can’t imagine him wasting his time with that. Also, he doesn’t physically exist, I don’t think. He has to become something else that physically exists, like a hog or … someone mentioned something about a bush once. Or who knows, maybe he could become a person. Or maybe that’s just demons.”

  Greg’s excitement was temporarily stifled as he squinted at her, trying to follow along. “But He could do anything He wanted, right?”

  “I honestly have no idea. I think at one point he could, but then he sort of let go of the reins a bit with Original Mistake, er, Original Sin. I’d ask him, but I haven’t heard from him lately.” Then it occurred to her. “Wait, is something terrible happening in Asia?”

  “Something terrible is always happening in Asia. Listen, we’re running out of time to plan. Oh, but that’s another good argument! If God can do as He pleases, why does He let suffering exist?” Greg looked expectantly at her again.

  And again, she shook her head vaguely.

  “Okay, new argument: People use miracles listed in the Bible as proof of God’s existence. If they were possible then, why don’t we see them now? Where are all the miracles?”

  She stepped back hastily, holding her hands out defensively. “Stop pressuring me! Who even cares about miracles anyway?”

  Greg, however, had clearly thought long and hard on the question of God’s existence, and he looked at her with concern, perhaps even pity. “Okay. Um. How about you just let me handle the opening statement, and then we can huddle again before our first rebuttal.”

  “Yeah, sure. Fine.”

  She let Greg do the talking and knew two things immediately. First, Greg would make the team. Second, she would not. Mr. Bauer kept looking at her to speak, and each time she had an opening but stayed silent, he scribbled notes on his pad. Well, so much for debate.

  As far as Jess could tell, Greg didn’t even need a teammate to whip Roger and Bradley (or maybe Charles and Heathrow?), and the victory was quickly awarded to “Greg! Oh and Jessica” once the debate was concluded.

  She was just glad it was finally over, and without adding anything new to her laundry list of physical injuries.

  As Greg and Jess made to leave, Mr. Bauer smiled politely at Jess before asking if Greg had a minute to chat.

  “Wait up for me?” Greg asked.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  It was strange being in the school hallways this late in the day. She could see the darkness creeping in from the few outside windows, and the only other people around were the eight or so waiting silently for their turn to debate.

  It’d never occurred to her to think through arguments for the existence of God, but she supposed it might come in handy, even outside a formal debate setting. Was she supposed to be convincing others of His existence? Was that part of the job description?

  I suppose that’s what miracles are for.

  BINGO.

  No, not You.

  YES ME. YOU DID ABYSMALLY IN THAT DEBATE.

  No shit.

  IT DOESN’T MATTER. ONCE YOU FIND YOUR FIRST MIRACLE, PERFORMING IT WILL CONVINCE OTHERS IN A WAY WORDS NEVER COULD.

  So are you going to tell me what it is?

  NOPE.

&
nbsp; Not even a hint? Please, Dad?

  EH … FINE. MANKIND, I’M A SUCKER. YOUR MIRACLES WILL HELP CONVINCE THOSE WHO NEED CONVINCING. WHICH MEANS THEY WILL BE OF USE TO THOSE AROUND YOU.

  Like Jesus’s fish?

  YES.

  It’s not a fish thing, though, right?

  YOU LIVE IN A VERITABLE DESERT. FISH SUDDENLY APPEARING WOULD BE MORE IN LINE WITH THE APOCALYPSE.

  Is that a no on the fish thing?

  THAT IS A NO.

  So what, then? What would be the fish equivalent to people in Mooretown?

  THE ANSWER IS SO OBVIOUS. THINK. USE THE BRAIN I GAVE YOU.

  Oh wow. You know exactly what to say. This whole time all I needed to do was think. Thanks for the stellar advice.

  I SENSE SARCASM.

  Mouthing off to God was probably not a great strategy for anything, but the week had felt like one failed test after another, and her patience for hints and guessing games had worn thin.

  I have one more question for you.

  YES, ONLY BEGOTTEN DAUGHTER?

  Could you create a rock too heavy for you to lift?

  OOO … I COULD JUST … MMM.

  You could just what?

  Silence in her skull. Good. That’s what she’d been aiming for.

  Greg appeared again and nodded down the hall, and she began walking alongside him.

  “I owe you an apology,” he said.

  “Um, no. I think I owe you an apology. That was terrible. I bombed completely.”

  “No, no. You didn’t … Well.” He seemed to consider it then decide against the blatant lie, going instead with, “I didn’t listen to you, Jess. You’re good at a lot of things, and you have every right to focus on those. I shouldn’t have pressured you to try it out. I put you in a bad position. I’m sorry.”

  She didn’t know what to say. He had a point.

  Of course he does! He’s a master of debate!

  “Do you forgive me?” he asked.

  His apology was so sincere that she couldn’t stay mad at him. He’d always been, and continued to be, her protector. She suspected he saw himself as that, too, and he’d failed in the duty.

  “Yeah, I forgive you.”

  Greg stopped in his tracks. “Whoa.”

  “What is—oh shit.” It’d been so long since anyone had asked for her forgiveness—she was usually the one making the apologies left and right—that she’d forgotten about what happened to people who were on the receiving end of those words. So far, though, it’d only been Sandra once, and then Miranda a handful of times. Never a boy.

  Greg’s eyes darted around without his head moving at all. He extended his arms loosely in front of him so that he could examine them.

  “Um … what’s wrong?” Maybe he hadn’t drawn the connection between her forgiveness and the sensation.

  “I … nothing. Maybe I pinched a nerve or something.”

  “Are you in pain?”

  “No, it didn’t hurt. It kind of felt … never mind.” He began walking again. “What were we talking about?”

  “How I forgive you.”

  He stopped in his tracks again. “That’s … that’s strange.”

  Her mind was split. While there was something incredibly appealing about Greg’s refusal to believe she was anything outside of a normal human female, part of her desperately wanted him to acknowledge that she had some sort of power. Maybe it would pique his romantic interest despite her dismal debate performance. “What’s strange, that I forgive you?”

  When she said it a third time, his head jerked to look at her. “Are you … No. Sorry. I guess I’m tired.”

  “My uncle’s a doctor,” she lied. “What are you feeling? Maybe I can help diagnose you.” It was a sick curiosity that drove her now. From what she could gather, the feeling was pleasant, but she wanted to hear it from Greg’s lips. Maybe this was a way she could give pleasure that no one else could, not even Sandra with her filthy mouth.

  “It’s like a tingling. Maybe.”

  She inspected him closely, feigning intense academic interest, as if he were a complex math problem that needed to be solved. “Go on.”

  The halls around them were completely vacant, but in the distance she could hear a loud conversation between teachers that echoed unintelligibly from a classroom on the far end of the hall.

  “Um. It starts in my chest, like around my heart, and then sort of vibrates out from there.”

  “Yeah? And where does it vibrate to?”

  “Uh, the rest of my torso. And my arms, down to my legs.”

  “Would you say it affects your groin?”

  His eyes went wide and he dragged his fingers through his short, dark-chocolate curls. “Why? Does that mean something? Do you think it’s serious?”

  “Depends. Does it affect your groin?”

  He nodded. “Yeah.”

  “But it’s not painful?”

  “No. Not at all. The opposite, actually.”

  “Hmm …” She struggled to hold back a satisfied grin.

  “What? Do you have an idea of what it is?”

  She shook her head. “No idea. I’ll have to ask my uncle. I’m sure you’re fine, though.”

  Greg didn’t look so certain. “I think I should go see a doctor or something.”

  “No, no, I’m sure you’re fine.”

  They made it to the front doors and out into the tepid late-summer air. It was going to be a long walk home, but it might be nice to have a little time to herself to decompress before her mother grilled her about her day.

  But Greg’s health concerns clearly hadn’t been put to rest. “How can you be sure it’s nothing? I had an aunt who had a heart attack and died at, like, thirty. I’m over halfway there, now. Maybe it was that.”

  Jessica jumped in front of him and placed a hand on each of his shoulders (only grimacing slightly as she lifted her right arm) to force him to stop and look her in the eyes. “It’s not a heart attack.”

  “How can you be certain?” He looked genuinely afraid, and she didn’t like that at all. He was supposed to be her knight.

  She sighed. “Because. I … well. Here. I forgive you.” With her hands on his shoulders, she could feel the tremor run through him.

  “I don’t … I don’t understand.”

  “Really? You don’t get it yet? Okay. And again. I forgive you.”

  One of his knees buckled, and a small moan escaped his lips. “How are you doing that?”

  Poor guy. “How do you think?”

  He shut his eyes and shook his head dismissively. “No, but seriously, how does that work?” He looked down into her eyes, waiting for an answer that made actual sense to him.

  “I have no damn clue, Greg. But it happens. One of my … superpowers.”

  What was his problem? She’d just given him pretty solid evidence that she was at least a little bit powerful outside of basic human abilities. How had it not punctured his denial at all?

  But rather than responding directly to her statement, he asked, “Do you want a ride home?”

  She wasn’t sure what she’d expected him to say. Oh okay, I believe in God now, or maybe something even as simple as, Maybe there’s more to you than I thought. Her mind flashed back to the realization she’d had at White Light Church, close to four years ago. People would only ever believe what they wanted to believe.

  Well, except for her. She didn’t have a choice. God made sure of that each time He showed up inside her skull, provided her with information she wished she didn’t know, and then split.

  Anyway, a lift home sounded good. “Yeah, okay.”

  She didn’t know how Destinee would feel about her getting in a car with a teenage driver—they hadn’t broached that subject yet—but she figured as long as she didn’t get pregnant, her mom didn’t have much room to preach.

  They crossed the empty parking lot in silence until they finally arrived at his ride. She’d seen it in the parking lot before but somehow never realized it was Gr
eg’s. The sight struck her as funny, but she thought maybe she shouldn’t laugh. She knew how guys were about their trucks … if that’s what this was even considered.

  “This is yours?”

  Greg nodded coolly, but she could tell it required a lot of effort for him not to geek out.

  “A ’78 El Camino. My dad fixed it up and gave it to me for my birthday last month.”

  Obviously he was proud of it, so she decided not to voice her actual opinion. “Awesome. I like the … color.”

  He ran his hand over the top of the cab on the driver’s side. “Yeah, I would have gone with black, but my dad thought sky blue was more appropriate for her.”

  “Her?”

  “Yeah. Janice.”

  “You named your car—”

  “Truck.”

  “You named your truck Janice?”

  He nodded subtly and narrowed his eyes at her like she was the one not making sense. “Yeah. I— What are you not getting?”

  “Um. Nothing. I get it. I just misheard the name,” she said, trying to backtrack. “I wasn’t sure if you said Janice or Janet.”

  He tossed his head back and guffawed. “Psh! Janet. That would’ve been a stupid name.”

  She forced a grin and nodded agreeably, and then loaded into the passenger’s side, throwing her heavy backpack on the bench seat between them.

  It took a little extra love to start the engine, and when it began to purr, Jessica felt like the truck was coming to life around her, vibrating strongly like there was too much power to be contained for long.

  Greg threw it into drive, but before he let his foot off the brake, he said, “Listen, Jess, I don’t want you to think I’m an asshole. I believe that you believe you’re the daughter of God or whatever, but I just can’t believe it. I’m sorry.”

  “I forgive you.”

  “Stop it!”

  She started laughing. “Sorry.”

  Greg started laughing too. “I just don’t understand!” And he continued laughing as he took his foot off the brake and pulled around toward the exit.

  “If it makes you feel any better,” Jess added, “I don’t understand either. I’ve been told believing isn’t about understanding.”

  “Hm. Maybe so.”