“Notchurchchurch, but like a youth group. They meet in a building next to the church and it’s super chill—couches and string lights and pizza and soda. And the kids, Mom.” Emma let out a sigh that mixed appreciation and disbelief. “The kids wereso nice.”
Kate reached for her glasses on the nightstand, as though putting them on would help her see this situation more clearly. “Tell me about it.”
“Okay, so there were maybe fifteen kids, all around my age.” She tucked her legs under her, settling in for a chat. “Some a little younger. Seniors were the oldest of this group. And the youth pastor—his name is Derek and he’s, like, twenty-six and has this great energy—he did a Bible study on the book of Matthew. Which…” She beamed and put a weirdly proud hand on her chest. “Ihaveread, so I didn’t feel completely like a class dunce.”
“A…Bible study.”
“Yep, but it wasn’t like school or anything. We read a passage and talked about it. People shared what it meant to them, and it got deep.”
“Did you share?” Kate hated that her voice was stretched thin.
“You know, I did,” she admitted on a wistful sigh. “They were so encouraging and the study was about judging. You know, that famous line…judge not…”
“‘Lest ye be judged,’” Kate finished.
Emma’s eyes flickered in surprise that Kate could quote the Bible. “But the version we read doesn’t have the ye and thou stuff. It’s just like a regular book.”
Kate stared at her, deeply aware of a slow burn in her chest and the need to not react.
“Anyway, we broke into small groups and mine was just girls, like four or five them. So nice. And we all shared a time we’d been judged or had judged someone else. And I told them.” Emma swallowed. “I told them what happened. With the pictures. The fallout. The team. All of it.”
“You told strangers?—”
“They’re notstrangers, Mom. They’re kids who get it because they’ve been through stuff, too. One girl—her name is Ava—went through something almost identical last year. Only hers was worse because she…well, never mind. Personal. But she said the only thing that got her through it was knowing that God didn’t see her that way. That He saw her as forgiven.”
“Forgiven.”
“Because of, you know, Jesus.”
Kate managed a breath. “No, Emma, I don’t know Jesus.”
“Well, it wasn’t weird,” she continued, oblivious of Kate’s discomfort with the conversation. “Nobody looked at me like I was damaged or stupid or…the girl who sent the pictures. They just listened and then they prayed for me.”
“They prayed for you?”
“I know that sounds weird,” she acknowledged with a laugh. “But they didn’t say those memorized ‘Hail Mary’ prayers. They just talked to God. Does that make sense?”
Not one tiny bit, not even a shred of sense. All Kate could think was that the whole thing was…scary. She didn’t know why or how, but it absolutely terrified her that Emma could get swept up in something like this.
But, oh, she looked happy.
“I’m glad you had a good time,” Kate said carefully. “It sounds like the kids were kind to you.”
“They were amazing. And you know what I kept thinking? That if the kids at Eastmont were like this—if they went to youth group and actually believed this stuff about not judging—none of what happened to me would have happened.”
Kate couldn’t argue with that logic, which made it worse.
“Then I remembered FCA.”
“What’s that?”
“The Fellowship of Christian Athletes chapter at Eastmont. I never even thought about it, but some of the nicest kids in school are in it. I think when I go back?—”
“When you go back?” Kate did a doubletake. “As of this morning, you told me you would never darken the door of Eastmont High again.”
She laughed. “Okay, a little dramatic.” Her expression grew serious, her eyes certain. “But you know what? I can go back and finish high school there. I can and I will. Those girls and their group chat and their petition—they don’t get to decide who I am. God does.”
The words hung in the bedroom, and Kate felt something crack inside her—not her heart, not exactly, but her careful understanding of how Emma was healing.
