Riven - Jerry B. Jenkins [43]
Thomas smiled. “Oh, I’m clean.”
“Squeaky,” Jimmie said. “Trust me.”
“Well, that may be,” Russ said, “but if you’ve forgotten a speeding ticket, even a double parking rap, they’ll know.”
6 p.m. | Forest View High School
Brady had had a particularly good day on the boards, as Mr. Nabertowitz had instructed him to call the stage. Not only had he nailed all his lines, hit all his notes, and even shown more flair in his dancing, but he had also prompted more than one coactor on his or her lines. That drew a smirk from Alex North, despite that he was one Brady had helped, but it brought heaps of praise throughout rehearsal from the director.
“I need to talk to you before you go,” Mr. N. said as he dismissed the cast and crew.
“Okay, but I can’t miss my bus. I get home just in time to have dinner with my brother and get to my job.”
“Your job? You’re working now?”
“They let me do it on my own schedule, so it’s all right.”
“No, it’s not all right, Brady. I told you I was going to keep track of how you’re doing in class, and I’m not getting good reports.”
“I’m working as hard as I can, sir. I don’t think I’m failing anything.”
“You don’t think? You have to know, son. You can’t afford one F, or your GPA dips to where I can’t use you.”
“Man, I can’t let that happen!”
“No, you can’t. Because it’s not just you, Brady. It’s every other kid involved in this thing. And it’s me. I risked a lot going with you in this role, and I’ve told you and told you that if we have to make a late change, the whole thing becomes a mess. Now don’t let me down.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
“What’s your plan?”
“My plan?”
“See, that’s your problem, Brady. You don’t think ahead. You’re on the brink of failing three courses. What are you going to do about that to ensure it doesn’t happen?”
“I don’t know. Get all my homework done. Study harder, more, for tests and stuff.”
“You’ve got to be proactive, son. You know what that means?”
“I’m not stupid!”
“I wasn’t implying you were. I just mean you need to get to those teachers, tell them you know you’re in trouble and that you want help. They can assign tutors to help you during study hall. They’ll help you themselves. Believe me, almost any teacher would love to be asked for help. They want to see you succeed. Now will you do that?”
“Sure.”
Not a chance. I’m not playing preppy for anybody.
16
Peebles
Grace had sounded okay on the phone before Thomas pulled out of Adamsville, but he insisted on bringing home dinner. “You rest until I get there. We have a lot to talk about.”
“Give me a hint.”
“I’d rather not.”
“Please, Thomas.”
“Well, maybe you can think and pray about it before I get there. It’s a prison chaplaincy.”
“Oh, my.”
He chuckled. “My response exactly.”
Thomas spent the entire drive ticking off the pros and cons and soon began to weary under a burden of guilt. The situation, strange and exotic as it was, would clearly be a nine-to-five weekday job. He supposed he might be called in some evening for the occasional emergency, but otherwise, he would have a routine he had not enjoyed as an adult.
What kind of a man was he to long for that? Rising every morning at the same time, being able to have devotions and breakfast with Grace, getting home at a decent hour, not having to worry about the phone ringing, the endless committee meetings, the people problems he’d had to endure for so many years.
As he drove, Thomas found himself daydreaming about the structured existence he had always yearned for. He had felt called to preach and teach and pastor, but everything that went with it had proved a distraction. And his daughter was right; it wasn’t in him to fight all the forces that wanted to use and abuse him.
Could he make a difference in prisoners’ lives? He certainly couldn’t hurt, couldn’t make things worse for them. He imagined,