Winter of Grace (14 page)

Jay shook his head. ‘I'm not giving up on you, Bridie. You could be an amazing witness for Jesus. If you'd just trust Him, if you'd let Him right into your life, if you stopped pushing Him away …' ‘Jesus isn't a stalker, Jay!' I said, too loudly. Every head in the room swung round; no one was pretending to ignore us now.

Ryan came barging over. ‘Hey, hey, hey! Let's all take a moment here.' Ryan put one hand on my shoulder and one on Jay's, simultaneously connecting and separating us. ‘Simmer down, everybody. Gather round. Let's ask our Lord for some input here.' Ryan flung back his head and addressed the ceiling. ‘Lord, we ask for your special help for our beloved friends Bridie and Elliot. We ask you to drive out Satan from them, to drive out their negativity and their bad energy. We ask you to forgive their doubts and questions. We ask you to restore their faith and gather them back into the embrace of your love.'

I don't know if I've ever been so embarrassed, and indignant, too. As if asking questions was
wrong
– as if daring to feel doubt about something was a
sin
! If Ryan hadn't been gripping my shoulder so hard, I would have wriggled away. I'm sure he could feel me squirming; that's probably why he squeezed so tight. My face was bright red. As soon as the prayer was over, I escaped to the other side of the room. Jay tried to follow me, but somehow I managed to evade him for the rest of the meeting. All evening, his stare pierced me, pleading and reproachful.

‘You need a lift?' Chelsea asked at the end of the night.

‘No, thanks.' I knew Mish was outside. I couldn't wait to run out and scramble into the safety of her car; I was almost scared someone would jump in after me, that they wouldn't let me go.

We hadn't even pulled out of the carpark when my phone began to buzz. It was Jay. I switched it off without looking at the message.

For the next few days, while I was with the Kincaids, I did something I would have thought was impossible: I left my phone turned off. I checked it at the end of every day: there were always missed calls and texts from Jay, and from school people too, which meant most mornings I had to put up with
Didn't you get …

Jay had said he wouldn't give up on me, and he meant it. He sent a deluge of calls and messages; no doubt there was also a stack of messages piling up at home. I thanked God I wasn't there; sooner or later he'd probably turn up on the doorstep. It creeped me out a bit, but a tiny part of me felt flattered, too.

I felt safe with the Kincaids – staying with them was like taking a holiday from the rest of my life. I loved walking Tim with Stella again; I loved teasing Tark and doing the dishes with Scarlet; I loved meditating with Mish and joking around with Paul. I loved it, but it wasn't home.

Mish must have worded Stella up not to talk to me about Northside or God or anything; she didn't mention it once. I didn't think Stella had it in her to be so restrained. But then, she had to be restrained at school, too; she was still on probation. ‘But I haven't felt like stirring lately,' she admitted. ‘Just want to keep my head down, you know?'

That was the closest she came to saying she'd missed me.

Mum didn't ring. I knew she wouldn't; I knew she'd wait for me to make the first move. I knew it, but it still hurt. One afternoon after school, I went home to pick up some clothes. As soon as I pushed open the door, I heard Mum's voice from the living room.

‘Bridie?'

I froze. Mum was
never
home at this time of day. I glanced down the hallway and caught a glimpse of her rising out of an armchair. She looked dishevelled, and she had a
cigarette
in her hand. Mum didn't even smoke! It was so unlike her that I was unnerved. I retreated, yanking my key from the lock, and fled down the street. Mum didn't follow; she didn't even call out after me.

That night Stella and Scarlet and I heard Paul and Mish muttering about it on the other side of the bedroom wall. Paul thought Mum was weird, acting so detached. Mish murmured, ‘That's just Lisa. She's always been hands-off.'

‘Hands off?' rumbled Paul. ‘Well, I'm not hands-off.'

‘No, you're not,' Mish giggled, and Paul growled.

Scarlet hid her head under the blankets. ‘Eew! Make them stop!'

Stella thumped the wall. ‘You're
disgusting
!' she yelled. Mish and Paul fell abruptly silent, then we heard stifled laughter.

‘Gross,' muttered Scarlet, rolling over.

I wriggled deeper into my sleeping-bag. A few minutes later Stella whispered, ‘Bridie?'

‘Mm?' I was nearly asleep.

‘Not that I want you to go home or anything, but … are you ever going to talk to your mum again?'

My eyes flicked open in the dark. ‘Yeah, I guess. One day.' The teenage half of me really wanted Mum, for once, to be the one who cracked first, but the kid half just wanted to run into her arms and bawl like a baby. So far the teenage half was winning, but the kid half was getting stronger.

‘I was thinking …' Stella's voice was uncharacteristically tentative, ‘that evolution forum's this week, the one where Lisa's speaking? I thought we could go, maybe. And you know, if you felt like it, you could say hi. And if you didn't, well, we could just … It should be interesting, Randall Martinez is speaking too.'

I was silent for a minute, then I said, ‘Yeah, okay.'

‘Oh, good!' Stella's voice in the darkness was breathless with relief. There was another pause, then she said softly, ‘Bridie? It's so cool to have you back. I mean, I really thought I'd lost you, you know? With all the Christian stuff … Bridie? Are you asleep?'

I didn't say anything, and then I heard her roll over and snuggle down, and soon her breathing was as deep and regular as Scarlet's. But I lay awake for ages, staring into the dark.

I remembered what Mum had said about having to choose sides. Well, I'd made my choice: I'd chosen Stella, and turned my back on Northside. Every time Jay's number flashed up on my phone, he nudged me further away. The weeks I'd spent hanging out at youth group already felt like a bizarre aberration, as if I'd been possessed or something. That wasn't me;
this
was me: the Bridie who joked with Stella and didn't wince when she exclaimed
Jesus
! So it was over; life was back to normal.

Since I'd come to the Kincaids, I hadn't tried to pray. For a second I contemplated crawling out of my sleeping-bag and kneeling on the floor of Stella and Scarlet's bedroom. But what would I say: thanks for only killing twenty people in the war today? Thanks for sending Jay to harass me? Please God, make my mum ring me and say she's
really
sorry? Of course, I was grateful to be friends with Stella again, but I could just imagine how she'd feel if I tried to make out that was God's doing.

I didn't want to lose God. I missed that warm, protective shield, that sense that someone was watching over me. How weird that the world seemed so much emptier now than before all this started. Suddenly a universe without God seemed a cold and brutal place.
Please, God, let me believe in You again. Please
come back to me.

Just then my phone buzzed. I must have forgotten to switch it off. Still in my sleeping-bag, I caterpillared over to the desk and grabbed it. A message had come through:
Bridie? U awake?
Elliot.

I stared at it for a long moment until the light on the screen died.

‘Bridie?' A sleepy mumble from Stella's bed. ‘What are you doing?'

‘Nothing,' I whispered. ‘It's okay.' I wriggled myself back onto my mattress and curled up with the phone under my chin.

It took me a long time to fall asleep.

ON THURSDAY NIGHT, Stella and I arrived at the lecture theatre an hour before the forum was due to start. Protesters were already gathering outside, about fifty people shouldering placards and casually chatting. They were mostly young and swathed in scarves and overcoats. I didn't see any monkey suits. A splinter group was singing
Free to Be Yours
, a song I recognised from Northside services. I recognised a couple of faces from Northside, too: Chelsea was there, and Adam. I was scared to look too hard, in case I saw Jay. I really, really didn't want to see Jay.

Someone yelled, ‘Equal time for intelligent design in schools!'

‘Then get an equal argument, moron!' Stella yelled back.

Restrained Stella had disappeared for the night, apparently. I lowered my head. The Northside gang hadn't spotted me yet, but they would. ‘Let's just go in,' I begged.

Stella shrugged me off. ‘Can't we stay out here and bait them for a while?' Then her face changed. ‘There's your boyfriend.'

My head whipped round before I could stop it. There was Jay, between Oliver and Ryan. He hadn't noticed me – he wouldn't, unless I went over. He couldn't see very well in twilight.

‘He's not my boyfriend,' I said. ‘You know that.'

Stella was watching me; I knew what she was waiting to hear. I took a deep breath. ‘I'm finished with Northside. I'm not going back.' As soon as I'd said it, I felt awful, like Peter pretending he didn't know who Jesus was.

Stella's face split into a huge smile. ‘Yay!' She squeezed my arm, then her smile vanished. ‘Look out, he's coming.'

One of the others must have spotted me. Jay weaved over to us, squinting. His face didn't light up until he was right in front of us. His eyesight must have been getting worse.

‘Bridie! I knew you'd change your mind!'

I swallowed. ‘Oh … no. No, I've come to hear my mum speak.'

‘But you can come out afterwards. Everyone's going to be here.'

‘I don't think so,' Stella butted in. ‘She doesn't want anything to do with you. Get it?'

‘Hang on,' I began.

Jay's face was soft with hurt and sadness. ‘Is that why you haven't answered any of my messages?' he said quietly.

‘I – I was going to …' I stammered.

Stella put her hands on her hips. ‘I'd say if she hasn't replied to your messages, it's because she doesn't want to. It ain't rocket science.'

‘Wait a minute.' I put my hand on her arm. Stella was back in her familiar role of speaking on my behalf, and clearly loving it. The only problem was, I didn't want her to do it any more.

Suddenly I realised: it wasn't a choice between God and no God, between Northside and science, between Stella and Jay. It wasn't about finding a person, or a set of rules, to follow; it was about working it out for myself.

I seized Jay's hands. ‘I'm sorry, Jay. It's not you; it's nothing to do with you. But I just can't be part of all this.' I gestured helplessly at the eager-faced protesters, the singers – who were now belting out a chorus of
He Made Us All
– at Ryan and Shanelle and Oliver.

‘I'm not giving up on you, Bridie,' said Jay. ‘I believe in you.'

‘Don't!' I held his hands tightly between mine. ‘Please, don't believe in me! I don't want you to.'

‘You can walk away from me. But you can't walk away from Jesus. He won't let you.'

Stella prised my hands from Jay's. ‘She can, and she is. Sheesh. What part of the word NO do you people not understand? Come on, we're going in.'

‘Bridie?' Jay reached for my fingertips.

‘I never wanted to hurt you,' I said. ‘I'm so sorry.'

I don't know if he even heard; Stella was dragging me away. I saw him crane his head helplessly as he lost sight of us in the crowd, then the doors swung shut and I couldn't see him any more.

I shook Stella's hand from my arm. ‘I hadn't finished.'

‘Yeah, you had,' said Stella briskly. ‘There's no point trying to have a rational discussion with these people. You're too nice, that's the problem.'

Jay
is too nice, that's the problem
, I thought. I was annoyed with Stella, but our newly repaired friendship was so fragile I didn't dare to risk telling her, so we lapsed into a strained silence.

The lecture theatre was almost full, humming with staff and students and very hot after the wintry chill outside. Technicians buzzed round with cables and sound equipment to record the forum for national radio. We managed to squeeze into seats toward the back. I was nervous; it was weird to be nervous at the thought of seeing my own mum.

Stella wriggled out of her coat. ‘I can't wait to hear Lisa. We'll go and find her afterwards, yeah?'

‘Yeah. All right.' I wondered what she'd say when she saw me; I wondered if she'd hug me. She never does hug me in public.

Stella said, ‘Randall Martinez is supposed to be brilliant. He gets protesters everywhere he goes, so he must be doing something right.'

‘We were protesting ourselves a couple of months ago,' I reminded her.

‘Don't wreck my argument.' Stella's cheeks were flushed with heat and excitement. She'd left her beret on, hoping to be mistaken for a uni student. ‘Are you narky with me?'