{Jon}

When Cary was gone, Jon put his face on his knees. The things Cary said stuck in his chest--whatever Pastor Grant said, Jon didn't have answers. Or maybe his answers didn't work anymore because he was too angry to believe them. He didn't know why Jesus' good life was rewarded with a brutal death and he had no idea why Jesus didn't seem to care that Todd was everywhere, on him all the time. When Jon's family had moved, he had foolishly believed Jesus would listen to his prayers for friends and give him a good year in a new place.

But here he was, on the steps of his dad's church, losing his only friend over a stupid youth group event. Jon took a deep breath, shoving down tears. He was not crying at church. He was the pastor's son.

He went to find his dad. Pete's office door was closed. Jon was about to knock when he heard raised voices–one yelling, and his father's, quiet and even as he answered. Jon stepped back from the door and sat on a pew in the darkened church foyer to wait.

After a few minutes, Pete's door opened and a stocky man in a crisp white dress shirt stormed out. Jon knew the names of everyone in the church, so he recognized Todd's dad even though he'd never had the pleasure of meeting him. They seemed to have quite a bit in common.

Jon went and tapped on his father's open door. Pete glanced up and offered him a smile that didn't make it to his eyes. "Hey, how'd it go tonight?"

"I'm ready to go home."

"Okay. Just let me send an email and I'll be right with you." Pete glanced behind Jon like he was missing something. "Does Cary not need a ride home?"

"No," Jon said.

Pete hesitated, then shut his laptop without typing a word. "What happened?"

Jon hunched his shoulders. "He was upset. Grant showed a clip with Jesus dying and Cary left."

"Did you have a chance to talk with him after?"

"Yeah I gave him all the answers I knew." That snapped with more of his anger than he had intended for his dad to hear. Pete was quiet, looking at him.

Jon turned his face aside, afraid his dad would see all the things he wasn't telling him. "So I'll just get my things and we can go?"

Pete was quiet. He always saw too much. "Yeah," he said. "I'm ready when you are Jon."

///

Kurtis was still in the gym, packing up his guitar and cords when Jon came in to pick up his Bible and backpack. When he saw Jon come over, he vaulted off the stage, shaking his hair off his face. "Hey Jon, missed you at worship practice."

Jon held his Bible against his chest, his face heating. "Sorry, something came up." It wasn't Kurtis' fault his little brother was an asshole. In fact, he seemed oblivious to Todd.

Kurtis stood with his hands in his pockets, loose and cool. "I wanted to ask you—can you play for Friday night with me? Grant asked me to put together a band for the Jr. High event and everyone's bailing on me."

"You want another guitar?" Hope fluttered in Jon's chest. It was one thing for Grant to pay attention to him—he was the youth pastor, he had to. Kurtis didn't have to, and Jon had been trying to make friends his own age at youth group for months.

"I can play bass or keys, whatever," Kurtis said.

"Me too," Jon said.

Kurtis smiled. "Cool. So you're in?"

Jon tried not to let how much it mattered show in his face. "Who's your drummer?"

Kurtis rolled his eyes. "No idea—Todd has basketball. You know someone?"

"Nope, sorry." He couldn't keep the grin off his face.

"Practice is Wednesday, that work?"

"Totally," Jon said.

"Very cool. See you then."

Jon walked out of the gymnasium feeling a foot taller.

///

That evening, Jon sat cross-legged on his bed with his Bible open in front of him, reading it for the first time in weeks. He was in Luke, the part where Jesus sat on a hill teaching a crowd about the way things are in God's kingdom. Jesus' words practically jumped off the page:

But I tell you who hear me, love your enemies.

Do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you...

Then your reward will be great and you will be children of the Most High

because he is kind to the ungrateful and wicked. Be merciful as your Father is merciful.

The little bubble of happiness Jon had been riding since Kurtis talked to him at youth group burst. It sounded like Jesus wanted him to be Todd's punching bag. How could he ever pray for Todd? He doubted Jesus meant for him to pray that Todd would suffer a terrible accident and never come back to school.

Jon pushed the Bible aside and lay back with his arm slung over his face. The house was quiet; his sisters were already in bed. He pictured his room the way it was and Jesus there, in the flesh. This had been one of his favourite ways to pray when he had prayed every day, throughout the day.

Jesus was leaning against his desk, looking at him with a smile like a question in his face. His feet were bare, and his toes were long and brown.

Jon drew in his breath. He hadn't expected to be afraid to see Jesus. And it felt like really seeing Jesus, not just pretending he was there.

"Hey," Jon said. What was there to say, anyways? Jesus had been there for everything; he already knew about Todd and Cary and youth group.

"Jon." Jesus said. His voice was warm, like he was glad to see him. "I love when you share your stories with me."

Jon lifted a shoulder. "No good stories to tell. You know that."

Jesus' hand rested on the edge of the desk. His scar was white against his brown skin. "You could tell me your bad stories."

Jon made his mouth lift with a smile. "Thanks for sending Kurtis to me tonight. I've wanted to make friends with him ever since we came to this church."

Jesus was quiet.

It was Jon's imagination—he could pretend Jesus didn't say anything.

But Jesus words still hummed in his ears: "What about Todd?"

"What about Todd?" Jon finally responded.

"I gave you Todd," Jesus said.

Jon's whole body tensed and he turned his face away. "This is why we're not talking. You say things like that." Humiliation and anger made his skin prickle when he remembered the things Todd said to him when he pushed him around. "Does it make you happy that I'm not happy?" he asked Jesus.

"No," Jesus said. "I wish you knew me better than that Jon." He was looking Jon in the face; Jon couldn't hold His eyes.

"I thought I did," Jon said. He had loved Jesus so wholeheartedly it hurt him now to remember. He had given Jesus everything, completely trusting that Jesus would take care of him.

And Jesus gave him Todd.

Jon pushed the picture with Jesus in it aside and sat up, crossing his arms over the place that hurt. He still felt Jesus close, and that rubbed like sandpaper on his skin.

"Please just leave me alone," he said softly. And he wished he could believe Jesus would listen and take his painful, nonsense way of loving somewhere else.

///

Jon was deep in a stack of comic books when his father tapped on his open door. Pete's bearded face brightened in a smile. "Ready for bed?"

Jon nodded and slid under the covers.

"Can I pray for you son?"

The last thing Jon wanted was to waste any more words on the person who gave him Todd. "If you want," he said, without looking at his dad.

Jon felt the weight of his father settling on the side of his bed and in spite of himself, he remembered all the nights Pete's prayers had chased away monsters and he had gone to sleep knowing nothing bad would happen to him because his father loved him.

"Is there anything in particular you want me to pray for tonight?"

Jon made his mouth smile but he couldn't look Pete in the face. "Kurtis asked me to play for worship Friday. So that's cool."

The lines in Pete's face lifted with his smile. "That's an answer to prayer."

Jon could feel his dad's eyes on his face. He picked at the blanket on his lap. "What did Mr. Klassen want?"

Pete tried to speak lightly. "He's a board member." Jon understood that meant that he was like Pete's boss. "There are some things he's not happy about."

"Things about you?"

Pete met Jon's frown with a wry smile. "Well I'm not perfect."

Jon looked aside, anger bubbling in his gut. "You've done everything for this church. If you're working so hard to take care of God's people, he should make your job easier."

Pete laughed softly. "We've had that conversation."

Jon glared at his blankets. He had an idea of how that conversation had ended. "I just don't get why crappy things happen when all you want to do is serve God and do the right thing. That doesn't make any sense."

Pete bent his head. "I guess I don't... try to make things make sense anymore. God promised to work all things for our good, but he's God and his way of working is way beyond me."

Jon stared at him. He'd been hoping when he was as old as his father he'd have better answers.

"There's good parts though, right?" Pete asked. He put his hand on Jon's. It was still big enough for Jon's hand to fit inside. "I hang onto the signs that say God is still working, still listening. Coming home to you and the girls—you are my good part right now, Jon." He smiled into Jon's face and Jon was overwhelmed by how warm and open Pete was, compared to how Jon felt inside.

Pete bowed his head to pray and addressed God as their Heavenly Father. Jon kept his eyes open and his heart shut.

*What do you think Jon should do about Todd?*

1747 words.