So far, John, Kailey, and others felt impressed to begin a Bible Club at their high school. Dr. Westman, the principal of the 1500 student school, was fully supportive. In the last part many of the Bible club members were introduced and a typical club day offered.

            “Christmas break, everybody,” John unnecessarily announced to the 39 attendees of the last Monday meeting before their recess. He didn’t expect to have so many in attendance with all the church and family events of the season.

            “Everyone be sure to take a copy of Really Real? by Elliott Smith. It’s some great reading. Takes about an hour the first time through, and about three hours the second time.” John chuckled aloud, knowing how dumb but true his comment was. “Give it to an unsaved relative and we’ll get you another copy when we come back on… January 9. We love you guys. Be safe.”

+++

            On New Year’s Day John couldn’t focus on the football college bowl game his family was gathered to watch. Fitful dreams, nearly nightmares had troubled his sleep. He woke with a start, not sure that he’d rested at all. Too embarrassed to say it aloud, he felt as if his spirit had been in battle the whole night long.

            The next night was a repeat.

            He got up and stared at his phone, hesitant to call anyone that early – not quite 5:30 A.M. Suddenly it rang. Only one of his favorites, which was nearly everyone he knew, would have rung through.

            “Hi Kailey.”

            “Hi. Sorry about so early, but I knew you were wanting to call me… right?”

            “Yeah. You too?”

            “Yeah. We have to meet.”

+++

            The informal meeting at 10:00 at the school flagpole on January 2 resulted in a gathering of thirty-one kids, more than either John or Kailey hoped.

            “Hey guys. Thanks for coming,” John began. “It’s cold out here so this won’t take long. God’s been talking to us, probably all of you too. I feel like we have to change our focus and I hope I’m not disappointing you all. Justin is still going to lead on his study and stuff on the book of Timothy, but after that, let’s… let’s turn this to a weekly prayer meeting. I don’t want to sound…”

            “We’re with you,” Brett interrupted. “We’ve had the same thoughts.” He nodded toward Corey. “Corey even said he thought we might go to more than only Mondays.”

            Others nodded assent.

            John continued, “I hate to, but we need to scale back our plans to recruit. New members are welcome, of course, but…”

            “You’re right,” several said, more or less in unison.

            “We should ask our churches to pray for us,” Chelsea added. “I know they already are, but…”

            Everyone agreed.

+++

            --T.J. Adams’ fun Christmas break had ended on the morning of January 1 with the realization that the recess was mostly over and the hassling would start back up in a matter of days. He grew sullen, disdaining the idea of school, not bothering to even look for the school books he still had homework in.

            --Jimmy Orr didn’t get the dog he’d hinted about for Christmas. Though he could have talked his mother into allowing him to get one from the pound, he imagined only the worst for the animal after he was gone – dead and gone.

            --Anthony Prescott made a count of his encouraging words, words of praise or even acceptance from the nearly three-week recess. Zero. Adding them up was easy. Every day was worse than the last. His only pleasure was darkening his face for trips to the mall, Gothically grossing out women and children.

            --Life was still good for James Pentecost. When Amy wasn’t at his house, he was at hers. Every day was a holiday, every meal a banquet. Life was good.

            --Philip Andrews dove deeper into his books.

+++

             The first day back at school, T.J. heard the expected words as he entered his home room class: “Here comes Dipstick. Everybody pretends you don’t see him. Talk like he ain’t even here.”

            What was he to do? “Teacher! They called me Dipstick. They’re pretending they don’t even see me! Make them stop.” T.J. imagined the reaction. He controlled the ridiculous urge.

            At his next class: “Hey, faggot.” This from the only varsity ballplayer in any of his classes. In this class, English Lit, all the girls swooned around the name-caller, practically slobbering. Who he liked, they liked. Who he dissed…. Well, they didn’t abuse him, but their expressions were sufficient. T.J. was not gay, but it was true that he would probably be thirty before he needed to shave. What was he going to do? “Teacher! He called me gay!” “Well, are you?” No, he would not offer himself on a platter to anybody – kid or teacher. Another stupid idea that he stifled. Such was T.J.’s life, that and worse every day. Not all were jerks and he did have friends, but all his friends had A list friends, and little time for the B list that included his name.

+++

            Jimmy Orr thought briefly that the streak might be broken and he’d be out one Coke. Someone was about to actually greet him. The bell had rung to signal the end of the first day back. Not one kid had made eye contact all day – the day he’d resolved to initiate and ask their name. Not one. Then, passing the library on his way to the buses, a girl turned in front of him as she was going into Room 412.

            She looked him square in the eye and said, “Oh, sorry. Hi.” Jimmy anticipated her follow-up; certain she would be the first that entire year. By her smile, there was no way she would sneer or smirk. Her cheeks couldn’t make such a face. Then her attention snapped to another student that bumped into Jimmy as he stalled in traffic. “Hi, Corey. How was Seattle?”

            “Cold,” the girl called Corey responded.

            As Jimmy angled past, he mentally finished Corey’s description, morphing Seattle to himself – “and bleak, and rotten, and ugly, and take your sorry and stick it.”

+++

            Anthony Prescott skipped school the first scheduled day back. “So what. Who cares.” The last thing he wanted to hear was a bunch of 90210’s, all the pretty people describing their Christmas presents to each other.

+++

            Life was still good in James Pentecost’s world. Amy was on his arm. His ring was on a chain around her neck. They’d already decided to go to McD’s with their crowd after school. This senior year was shaping up just as good as he’d imagined.

           “James,” Amy said one evening later in the year in early May, nearly an entire gestational period since the advent of the Bible Club. Her long pause finally got his attention. “Since we’re going to different colleges next year, uh, um, why don’t we go, you know, fresh, clean? So we can, you know, not be all guilty talking to other people.”

           “You mean like parties… and dating?”

          “Well, I suppose, you know, whatever.” Unspoken, were Amy’s thoughts that once out of High School and turned eighteen, and at their stage of coupledom, sex was the next logical progression. She did not want that hook to burden their separate social lives. Childhood and grade school would be behind them.

          James didn’t ask her to spell it out. He silently accepted his class ring. Without a kiss or another word, he walked from Amy’s door to his car, not returning home until certain his mother would be asleep. He spent the night determining not to confess anything, that Amy might change her mind before he had to tell his mother anything. He wondered why she had to break up even before summer started. They both turned eighteen during the summer. He’d even considered that she would hint toward their marriage, despite the college separation in order to cement their bond.

          “Where’s Amy?” James’ mother asked several days later. “I haven’t seen her and she hasn’t returned my calls. I wanted to know what she was wearing to the graduation party.”

          James had yet to tell her that there would be no Amy at the party his mother was throwing for the extended family.

         All through the school year, up until that fateful day in May, life for James had been good.

          James was heartbroken. As the case with many youngsters, he was unprepared for such a blow. James’ mother may be a story of a similar color. She married Amy prematurely. In his mind, James played out a conversation with his mother: “What do you mean, you’re not together anymore? What did you do? What did you say to her? You must’ve done something! You didn’t… You get over there right now! Take flowers, she likes carnations best. Get on your knees.” James’ mother’s sense of abandonment mirrored, and fed, James’.

          Uncle Earl had guns. Among them an AR15. When his uncle went on vacation, James took care of the lawn, sometimes even dog and house sitting. He knew the door security code and where the spare key was hidden. And the dogs liked him. The gun would be no problem. The surveillance system wouldn’t even be looked at until everything was over.

         Amy would be spared, allowed to live with the reality of her choices. Everyone she knew would not fare as well. James focus on life changed dramatically. James imagined his mother dissolving before his eyes. He would lose his life, and so would his mother… at least that was the way his juvenile thinking moved him.

          But that was all yet to come. Earthquake Day was months off. On this January day, life was good.

+++

            Philip Andrews was prepared. Unfortunately, it appeared Emily was as equally prepared. From overheard conversations he surmised she’d not skipped a beat, not lost a step in their competition quest for top grades, mononucleosis notwithstanding.