*Trigger warning: bullying, violence.*

{Cary}

Monday LA class, Cary looked for Jon. He found Jon's bent head a few rows up. He was wearing different clothes: a hooded sweatshirt and black cargo pants. The sweatshirt had a skull on the back, printed in dark red. Cary knew camouflage tactics when he saw them.

Three of the guys who had mugged Jon were in the back row with Cary, flicking elastics at each other and playing games on their cell phones under cover of their desks. Cary held still. At class bell, the guys flanked Jon and caught him in the hall again.

"Hey gay boy, you owe us twenty bucks today."

Jon's face was flat, as close to angry as Cary had seen him. "Actually Todd, I think you're the one who owes me. I'd like my fifty dollars back."

That made them laugh. "Let's make it another fifty." They shoved Jon against the lockers and dumped his backpack on the floor. There was nothing in his wallet, so they pushed him around a bit and left.

Jon's bag lunch was strewn on the hall floor all the way to Cary's feet. Cary put everything back in the paper bag and held it out to Jon, who was shoving his books back into his backpack.

Jon looked up quickly to see who was standing over him.

"Nothing's squished." Cary said.

Jon took it, colour rising in his face. "Thanks."

"Coming to the doors for lunch?"

"Sure."

///

Cary stretched his legs on the grass having a smoke while Jon ate his lunch. He glanced sideways at Jon. "You gonna fight those kids?"

Jon crumpled his lunch bag and tossed it. "Are you kidding? No."

Cary frowned. "The one in front, who knew you—"

"Todd." Jon turned his face aside.

"If you got him alone you could take him."

Jon looked like someone had thrown a bag over his head and rubbed out his smile. "I doubt it."

"You could hurt him anyways," Cary said.

Jon shrugged. He wasn't looking at him. "I was hoping I could talk to him. Figure something out."

Cary frowned. "Don't do that. Keep your head down like you are. He'll get bored."

Jon crossed his arms tight, like something was hurting him. "It's been two months."

Anger sparked hot in Cary's chest. Probably cutting Todd open to let his guts fall out wasn't an option. But for a second, he considered it. He looked at Jon's down-turned face and wondered why he didn't tell his dad. He didn't ask.

He looked up the narrow alley between the school and the rec center, looking for a change of subject. "I've been thinking about our project."

Jon smiled. It looked like the real thing, if a little dimmed. "Yeah?"

"I thought we could make it so when you look inside, you see some rooms and stuff."

Jon laughed a bit. "How would I get a project that big on the bus to hand in?"

"Maybe 1 to 250 scale?" Cary showed with his hands how wide and tall the model would be.

"Do we have to wait until Mr. Ryerson hands our drafts back?"

"No. Let's start now."

Jon sighed. "I can't tonight. I have youth group at the church. I'm supposed to bring a friend."

That hung in the air a second while Cary waited for him to ask. He didn't ask. "I could come."

Jon looked at him with that open, hopeful face. Cary looked back. It was an easy thing if it made Jon feel better. "Or whatever." Cary said.

"Okay." Jon said. "I don't know if you'll like it."

This seemed funny to Cary. "Why are you supposed to bring a friend then?"

"It's like an outreach event." The word didn't mean anything to Cary. "Pastor Grant said we'll watch a movie about Jesus and then talk about who he is and why that matters."

This actually interested Cary. Conall talked a lot about God and other religions, but Cary had never had a chance to hear from someone else on the topic. "Tell me how to get to your church."

///

Jon's church was a large stucco building in a residential area, stained by decades of rain and snowfall until the walls were stained as a water-color. Cary went in the double front doors the way he saw other kids do. Jon was waiting beside a coat rack, smiling and saying hi to the kids who passed. His smile slipped when he saw Cary. "Hey, you made it."

Jon was still wearing his clothes from school. Cary had changed into the sweater and dress pants his mother made him wear to her church. He watched the other kids in the foyer warily. "You have friends here?"

"Sort of." Jon said.

The double doors opened on a pair of boys. One was carrying a guitar case. The other was Todd. He had a pair of drumsticks in his hands, and he clattered on the handrail and the coatrack as he passed. He flashed Jon a grin and did a drumroll on his forehead before Jon could jerk away. "Hey Whitey."

"Hey Todd, hey Kurtis." Jon's voice was distantly friendly, like they hadn't just seen each other at lunch.

Cary watched the boys pass, wishing he had his knife in his pocket. When they were out of earshot, Cary growled, "He goes to your church."

Jon nodded. He didn't look at Cary; his ears were a little pink. "So this thing is in the gym; I'll take you there."

Cary stuffed his anger under his stone face, ready for anything.

The gym was dimly lit with lamps and Christmas lights strung from basket to basket. Kids milled around a table of chips and boxes of donuts. Todd was at one end of the juice table, the center of a group of older guys. By unspoken agreement, neither Jon nor Cary went for snacks.

There was a stage with lights and a big screen, and folding chairs set up. Cary found them seats at the end of the back row where he could see everything. An older man was threading his way toward them. Cary braced his legs against the floor. Jon's smile looked strained.

"Hey Pastor Grant."

"Good to see you here Jon." Pastor Grant had trendy, thick-framed glasses and greying hair buzzed up the sides. "You brought a friend?"

"Yup, this is Cary."

Pastor Grant turned a chair around to join them before Cary could figure out if he was supposed to stand and shake hands or what. "Glad you could come Cary. Where do you go to school?"

"Eastglen. With Jon."

"Okay, awesome."

Cary had been trying to interpret Pastor Grant's careful expression. He realized that of the two of them, Jon looked like the punk kid. Cary's church clothes fit right in.

"So Cary, if you have any questions after, Jon's your answer-man."

"Sure, thanks," Cary said.

They sat in silence when Pastor Grant left, watching girls with shiny hair find seats together. Other guys stood around in awkward groups. Lights came up on the stage and everyone took their places in a hurry. Cary thought he recognized Todd behind the drum set. The band played songs Cary didn't know, nothing like the hymns at his mother's church. The kids sang and lifted their hands up. Jon didn't. Sometimes Cary could hear him singing softly, like it was just to himself.

The band was tight and Cary liked the way the woman leading the singing closed her eyes and tipped her head like she was totally, beautifully high. If he hadn't been aware of Todd in the room all the time he might have let his stone face down. When the woman prayed at the end with her hand up, Cary felt something loosen inside. He was sorry when that part was done and Pastor Grant bounded onto the stage.

Pastor Grant talked a lot, and even told some funny stories. Mostly he talked about Jesus and how He healed people and taught people about God. Jesus collected a bunch of working class guys to tramp all over the country with him. Jesus was smart about words like Conall, but so easy to be with crowds followed him and children climbed into his lap.

Cary listened for the part that might explain the way Jon's house was so full of peace, that even when Jon got mad nothing got broke. He thought Jesus sounded like a man who made peace wherever He went.

At the end of the talk Pastor Grant said he wanted to show them a clip from a movie about Jesus' life. "Guys, if Jesus was just a good man who said some good things and lived a good life, I wouldn't be standing up here talking to you. Jesus didn't just talk the talk, he walked the walk all the way to death on a cross. Jesus' death changed everything."

The lights went out and the screen came to life with a dusty road and a crowd in robes and sandals. They were yelling, their faces were twisted with anger. A man's face filled the screen. His eye was swollen shut. After a minute of watching Cary had to conclude it was Jesus. He had no idea why everyone was so angry at him or why his hands were tied.

When they stretched Jesus over a post and stripped him to the waist, Cary stopped breathing. The whip crack bounced against the concrete walls of the gym. They beat Jesus' skin off, then put a massive piece of lumber on his bleeding back. Cary was frozen in his seat. Jesus stumbled up a dusty road under the weight of the crossbeam. By the time the soldiers hammered stakes into Jesus' hands Cary didn't feel anything. Jesus hung on that piece of wood from the nails in his hands. He cried out and he died.

Cary got up and walked out. He kept going until he hit a door that opened to the outside. He didn't have a smoke, so he just sat with his knees drawn up, his mind a blank. When the door behind him opened, he turned his face aside.

Someone joined him on the step. Black cargo pants. Jon White. The gears of Cary's thoughts started to grind again. "What. The hell. Was that." His voice was all flat.

"What... what part?"

Cary still didn't feel anything, just like when his father pulled his belt free of his waistband. "The part where they beat the shit out of Jesus and killed him on a piece of wood."

He saw Jon clench his hands together like he was praying. His knuckles showed white. "I guess Jesus was a threat to them. Politically. And religiously. So the leaders of his people wanted to get rid of him. And that's the way they killed people then. On a cross."

"He was the son of God? That's what Pastor Grant said?"

"Yes."

"He could have stopped them. God could have stopped them."

"Yeah, that's true. Jesus chose to come and die that way. To get to us, that had to happen."

Feeling returned. Anger prickled like a foot that had fallen asleep. "You let your sisters watch that?"

"No."

"But that's what you believe—that's the story they'll hear when they grow up. Jesus dying like that."

"That's what really happened."

Cary turned on him. "I know it's real. I don't know why you would – make a religion out of it. I would rather believe in nothing."

Jon's forehead creased. He was white-faced in the twilight. "Cary, that's not how the story ends. Jesus didn't stay dead—he rose again. He's alive."

Cary looked for the lie. Jon believed that. "That's a kids' story Jon. Dead is dead." He got up and walked to the bus stop.

*So I have been in many church youth groups over the years, and this is a mash-up of a couple bigger ones that did a youth-style worship service.  It's not terrible, but the thing youth pastors don't often think about is how this all hits a kid like Cary who has a whole different set of triggers and life-experience than the church kids in the room, and zero exposure to the context of the Jesus stories. If youth group leaders genuinely want the friends their church kids bring to stay and find something life-giving, they need to broaden their imagination!

What do you think about Cary's response to what he sees at Jon's youth group?*