So I do because
the chair is close to the Kit Kats
and it looks like maybe he refilled the jar today.
“You haven’t been in here since
before you were baptized,” he says.
And I remember that he was the one
to baptize me,
to bury me under the water
but also
to bring me back out.
“I have been praying more since Jake left,” I say
because I know he will like that part.
“That’s good,” he says.
He tips the jar toward me,
and I reach in,
hoping it’s not a trap.
“I’m fasting,” I say,
and he nods.
“I am too.
But I thought maybe my fast
could count for both of us.
This is a day for us to do something
for your family.
For the rest of us
to take a little part of this
off your shoulders.”
“That’s a good idea,” I say,
even though I’m not sure
what he means about
the shoulders part.
Then he asks,
“Do you want to talk about Jake?”
“Yes,” I say
as I tear the wrapper open
and snap the bar in half.
Then I take a bite,
and we both wait
wait
wait
until finally he says,
“Jake…
…is a good brother, isn’t he?”
I think about that as I swallow my Kit Kat.
“You said
‘is’
and you almost said
‘was.’ ”
He nods.
“You’re right, Luke. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry,” I say,
and I mean it,
partly because
I’m reaching for another Kit Kat
and I want to keep things
good between us.
I’m still
just as hungry
as before.
“What do you think happened to Jake?” I ask.
Bishop Gregersen runs his hand through his hair
and lets out a long breath
as I down
one Kit Kat
after another.
“I don’t know, Luke.
I’ve been praying about it too,
and I just don’t know.
I wish I did.”
Now I have a fist full of Kit Kats
and a belly that’s even fuller, and
I’m starting to feel a little sick,
but I keep talking.
“The police think he ran away.
Some people think
he ran away
because he did something bad.”
Bishop Gregersen nods.
“I’ve heard people say those things too.
What do you think?”
“I don’t know,” I say.
And then I tell him the other part
that I wasn’t going to tell anyone.
“I’ve been praying to God
and Muhammad
and Buddha.”
I look down and twist the orange-red wrapper
of one of the Kit Kats I haven’t eaten yet
until the crunchy layers crush
when I say the next part.
“I’ve been praying to
the Force too.
I thought if God is real,
maybe He or She or It
wouldn’t care so much
about what I call Him or Her or It,
or maybe even which way I pray.”
Sometimes things make sense in my head,
but when I say them out loud,
they sound
so
stupid.
“But now I think
God isn’t answering
because whichever way is right,
the rest of the ways are wrong,
and that’s making God mad.
I’m making God mad.”
“No, Luke.
I don’t think anybody in heaven or on earth
is mad at you right now.”
I squeeze with both fists
until everything is ruined.
It feels good to crush something with my fingers
and let the dark side win for a minute.
Bishop Gregersen looks at the mess I’ve made.
And he slides the jar closer to me.
He really does.
Even though I already ate some
and ruined more.
And maybe that’s why I’m not afraid to ask him
what maybe I really came here to ask him.
“What if those people are right?” I ask.
“Will God be mad if Jake did something bad?
And then he ran away from it?”
Bishop Gregersen shakes his head.
“I don’t think so.
I think God feels a little like we do.
Like He wants to help.”
“So if God isn’t mad at any of us,
why isn’t anything getting better?”
“Maybe it is,” he says.
“Maybe it’s like Star Wars,
and we can’t see what’s going on
in that part of the story.
Maybe if we could flash to Jake’s part of the story,
we’d understand.”
I am glad he knows Star Wars
and even more glad
he might be right.
“Like Luke on the island,”
I say.
“How he wasn’t who he had been
or who he thought he needed to be,
so he left.
But then,
when it was time,
he came back.”
He nods. “Maybe like that.”
I hold the whole candy jar in my lap
and look down
until the wrappers all blend together
and my eyes fill and splash right down,
like filling an aquarium
with Kit Kats for rocks,
and I ask
one
more
question.
“If Jake ran away because he messed up,
can I still love him?
Even if he hurt somebody?
Can I still think he’s a good brother?”
Bishop Gregersen comes around the desk then.
Sets the jar back on the desk.
Takes the crushed candy bars
from each of my hands.
Puts a new Kit Kat on each of my palms.
“Whatever is wrong, God can make it right.
And Jake is one of the best brothers I’ve ever seen.”
He crouches down and looks right at me.
“Next to you, anyway.”
I slip those Kit Kats
into my pocket
and save them
for when I need them.
For now,
I am not so hungry
anymore.
The great thing about the weight room is that it smells like the Hulk’s balls. I mean, it’s not great when you first walk in, but after a while you don’t notice it anymore, and then when you remember what it first smelled like and realize that not only have you gotten used to it but you are contributing to something as unstoppably manly and powerful as the smell of the Hulk’s balls, you feel like you could lift a freaking diesel.
Technically, it’s a coed weight room, but last year they finished the new weight room in the annex. I’ve been to that weight room—it’s smaller, but the equipment’s new, and it doesn’t smell nearly as much.
Anyway, some unspoken rule has the girls going over there while the guys stay here, tucked underground with tunnels and storage closets that probably only creepy Caruso knows his way around. So I don’t even think twice before I go up to the mirror and pull down my waistband to check out a bump on my butt. Upper cheek, and I’m pretty discreet about it, so nobody else in the room even gives a crap.
What is this thing, though? Ingrown hair? Huge ugly butt zit? On anybody else, it would be disgusting, but when you find stuff like this on your
