The Lost Saint (16 page)

Pretty much everyone was in a flurry about the new religion teacher on Monday. Considering the median age of teachers at HTA was well over forty, having such a young (if only by appearance) new teacher was
something
to talk about.

“I hear he’s cute,” April said as we walked to senior religion studies—the last class of the day.

I was glad for her company, since Daniel and I were apparently avoiding each other today. Or at least I was, considering the fact that I’d chosen to sit next to April in the back of the art room since her tablemate was out sick. April had spent most of art class sketching out costume designs for me. Even though I didn’t much care for wearing a violet-purple cape with a big sequined
WG
(for Wolf Girl!) on the back, I didn’t have the heart to tell her I’d been grounded from training—and if Daniel, Gabriel,
and Dad had anything to say about it, I’d never have a need for any of her designs. But now I almost wished April would go back to the subject of optimal crime-fighting footwear, because debating the finer points of Gabriel, or Pastor Saint Moon, or whoever he was supposed to be, wasn’t exactly something I wanted to do.

April sighed as we walked through the classroom door. “Yep, he’s cute all right. Actually, I think
handsome
is more the word for him, don’t you think? Cute implies a certain boyishness, but …”

I leaned in close to her ear. “You know he’s, like, an eight-hundred-and-something-year-old werewolf, right?”

“What?” April asked about ten more questions in a single breath, but I have to admit I tuned her out.

Gabriel stood next to Daniel’s desk. They both looked over a piece of paper in Daniel’s hand. I knew I could switch on my superhearing—it really was getting quite easy to control that power—to overhear what they were saying, but I didn’t like the idea of using my abilities to spy on Daniel. I also knew I could probably just walk right over there and ask what they were up to. I usually sat next to Daniel anyway. But I honestly wasn’t ready to talk to either of them yet. And since Daniel hadn’t made any effort to try to talk to me since last night, let alone apologize for lying about his whereabouts and then turning his back on me, I pulled a babbling April to the opposite side of the room.

“Hey, Grace,” Miya Nagamatsu said after I sat down in front of her.

“Hi.” I smiled at her. Mostly because her presence meant April stopped asking me questions about Gabriel’s were-status.

“We never see you around anymore.”

I shrugged. That was the thing about when April and I stopped being friends. It was as if we’d had an unspoken agreement that she’d get to keep all our other friends, like Miya, Claire, and Lane. They usually ate lunch together at the Rose Crest Café while I stayed back in the art room to work with Daniel and sometimes Katie Summers. Only today, Daniel had taken off as soon as the lunch bell rang, so it was just Katie and me working on our paintings—and she’d definitely been less talkative without Daniel around.

“Yeah,” said Claire. “We miss you.”

“Thanks, guys.”

“Did you and Daniel break up or something?” Miya pointed at Daniel across the room. “You guys are usually glued at the hip.”

As if on cue, Daniel looked up at me. Our eyes met for a moment, and he gave me half a smile. More sadness laced his expression than I’d expected to see. It made my heart feel hollow.

What
is
going on with him?

“No,” I said to Miya, “I just felt like a change today.” But I suddenly felt the urge to close the distance between
Daniel and me. Yes, Daniel had lied, and he hadn’t backed me up when I needed him, but he was obviously going through something. I hated myself for being stupid and petty and not being there for him now.

But just then Katie Summers slipped into the empty desk next to Daniel, where I usually sat. She leaned over and asked Daniel a question. He took his eyes off me and answered her.

The bell rang. I begrudgingly turned my attention to Gabriel as he introduced himself to the class. He wrote the words
Pastor Saint Moon
on the dry-erase board at the front of the room. I wondered why he used that name. It was his sister’s married name—not his.

“I’m new to Rose Crest, but I imagine some of you knew my uncle, Donald Saint Moon. Though most of you probably knew him as Don Mooney.”

I almost let out a short laugh. The idea that Don had been Gabriel’s
uncle
was somewhat amusing—it was more like he was his great-great-great-multiplied-by-ten grandnephew.

“I want to jump right in where Mr. Shumway left off. Who remembers what you discussed last week?”

Katie’s hand shot straight up. “We had just started a discussion on the parable of the Good Samaritan. We read the scriptural account the last time Mr. Shumway was here.”

“Grace”—Gabriel turned toward me—“can you tell us what you know about the Good Samaritan?”

“What?” The only thing I could think of at the moment was how the guy in the leather jacket had called Talbot the Good Samaritan when he’d stopped the fight in the club. The image of Talbot leaning over me as I lay on the ground—offering his hand to help, fog swirling behind him—flashed in my mind. I pushed the mental picture out of my head. It was a stupid thing to think about, and surely not what Gabriel had meant.

“Can you summarize the story for us?” Gabriel asked.

“Oh yeah, sure.”

“Stand up so everyone can see you.”

I stood. “A Jewish man had been robbed, beaten, and left for dead on the side of the road. Two wealthy men of his own people saw him and did nothing because they were scared. But when a Samaritan—who the Jews hated—saw him, he took pity on the man and brought him to an inn and paid to make sure he was nursed back to health.”

“And what does that mean to you?”

I thought about it for a moment. “It means that if you have the ability and the opportunity to help someone, but you don’t do anything just because you’re scared or it’s inconvenient or something, then maybe you’re just as bad as the people who caused the problem in the first place.”

“Good analysis,” he said. “Thank you.”

I was about to sit back down, but something about
that explanation bothered me. “So doesn’t that mean if you have the
abilities
needed to help someone, then you should do it? I mean, the Good Samaritan could have just kept on walking like everyone else. But he chose to do something instead. That’s what makes him a hero. He didn’t let
fear
hold him back.”

“Yes, but the Samaritan also didn’t try to hunt down the bandits and fight them. He helped the wounded man through charity and compassion. Violence and fighting are not the answer.”

“But what if you’re at war? What if it’s a battle between good and evil? Shouldn’t you ‘fight fire with fire’?” I looked at Daniel, because that was how he’d described the reason for God’s creating the Urbat in the first place. In the battle against the devil and demons, God had created His own warriors to protect humankind. He’d imbued them with the essence of the most powerful beast in their highland forests—ancient wolves—in order to “fight fire with fire.” I looked back at Gabriel. “When you’re at war with someone evil, then it’s totally different, right? Sometimes you have to use extreme tactics to protect the ones you love?”

Gabriel cleared his throat. “Believe me, Grace. I’ve been to war. That’s not a place you want to go.”

I didn’t know what to say in return, so Gabriel and I just stood there, staring at each other for a moment, until Claire asked from behind me, “Were you in the Middle East?”

Gabriel blinked and looked at her. “I’m sorry, what?”

“The Middle East? The war? My brother’s in Iraq.”

Gabriel took a step back. “Oh, yes. I’ve been to the Middle East.”

“What’s it like?”

“I don’t remember. It was a long time ago.” His voice was soft, and I wasn’t sure he said it loud enough for anyone other than me to hear.

I sat down in my chair and opened my notebook.

“How about we move on with the lesson?” Gabriel said to the whole class. “I understand that you’ve all been discussing gospel principles, but I’m a firm believer in moving past talk and actually
acting
on the lessons we’re supposed to learn. Practice what we preach, so to speak. And according to what Mr. Shumway had planned for the next few weeks, it seems like he was a man of like mind.” Gabriel went to the board and wrote in large letters:
Senior Religion Studies Project
.

“Mr. Shumway had plans to institute a new requirement for all seniors who wish to graduate this year. He wanted each of you to fulfill an intensive community-service project before midterm break. I think it’s a brilliant idea, and I plan on carrying out the arrangements he’s already made.”

I sat up straighter. This must have been the big surprise Mr. Shumway had teased us with before he quit.

“Before the break?” Chris Conway, the principal’s
son, stopped drawing flaming skulls on his notebook. I was surprised he’d been paying attention for once. “There’s only two more weeks until midterms. That’s impossible.”

“It’s not impossible, and I will be letting you out an hour early from school every day to report to your different projects.”

“Can we do anything we want?” April asked. “I could make jewelry for the kids at the children’s hospital.”

“Actually, Mr. Shumway already arranged your projects for you. We’ll be working with a group called the Rock Canyon Foundation.”

“They own the shelter in the city, right?” I asked.

“Very good, Grace.”

“I’m sorry, but there’s no way my parents will let me work at the shelter,” Katie said. “They don’t let me go into the city ever since those invisible criminals started running around.”

“That’s why we’ll be splitting into two groups. One group will be staying close to home. Mr. Shumway had originally planned for this group to volunteer with the Rock Canyon Foundation at their senior center in Oak Park. However, I’m going to make a modification to this. I assume most of you have heard about what happened at the local food market? I hear the proprietor needs help getting the store up and running again. There’s more cleanup and some light construction to do, and I imagine they could use a fund-raiser
and a few free man-hours in the next few weeks.

“Daniel Kalbi will be heading up that group since he already works for Mr. Day. Those of you who aren’t allowed to travel, or who have work directly after school, will be in that group. Mr. Shumway had already contacted each of your guardians for permission and divided the class into two groups. Daniel has the names of those of you who will be staying in Rose Crest.”

Daniel waved the slip of paper he’d been looking at with Gabriel.

“Daniel, you’ll need a co-captain.”

I started to raise my hand, but I swear Gabriel deliberately ignored me. “The young lady sitting next to Daniel, what’s your name?”

“Katie Summers,” she said. “I’d be happy to co-captain.”

“Good,” he said. “Help Daniel pass out instructions to each of the people on his list.”

Just perfect
, I thought. I raised my hand again. “I’d like to be in the Day’s Market group. I’ve already helped with some of the cleanup.”

“Actually, Grace”—Gabriel finally paid attention to me—“Mr. Shumway specifically named you as the captain of the second group, and I agree that you’d be the perfect fit. Your team will be working with the Rock Canyon Foundation as part of their Good Samaritan project. You’ll be split into pairs and assigned a driver, who will take you around to their various projects in
the city and the neighboring towns. Anything from delivering food for Meals on Wheels, working at the Boys and Girls Club, helping the elderly with household tasks … whatever they need. This group will really be getting out there and serving the needs of the community.”

“This is bogus,” Chris said. “My dad will never let us go off campus like that.”

“Actually, your father will be helping oversee your group today. And I think you’ll make a good co-captain for Grace.”

Even more perfect
. I doubted Chris had done a single school assignment in the last three years. The only reason he hadn’t been kicked out of HTA was because his dad was the principal. I could just picture myself doing all the work on my own.

I was about to protest and insist on being in Daniel’s group, but I realized this might be the perfect opportunity to look for Jude in the city again. Maybe I’d be able to sneak away at some point—stake out The Depot, more incognito this time, or some of the other surrounding businesses.

“Okay,” I said. “So when do we get started?”

ON THE SCHOOL BUS

Gabriel hadn’t been kidding about Mr. Shumway’s having made all the arrangements already. He had
permission slips signed by all of our parents, and we were set to get working immediately.

Half the class went to the market with Daniel and Gabriel, and the rest of us got on a school bus with Principal Conway. I thought we wouldn’t be getting started at least until the next day, but Gabriel said that the project was actually supposed to start last Friday, so the Rock Canyon people were eager to get us working. I didn’t have a problem with this sudden development, since it meant that I’d be able to get to the city sooner than expected.