Cal blinks. “Fine.”
“How’s Lanz?”
Cal doesn’t answer. Just fidgets with a little piece of paper he’s ripped off the edge of his notebook. He looks up, but doesn’t meet my eyes. Stares, instead, at one of the books in my pile.
“Nag Hammadi,” he says.
I blink. “Come again?”
Cal nods, indicating. “The Gnostic library of Nag Hammadi?”
It’s one of the bigger books, an elephant folio, one I hadn’t yet cracked because of its sheer size. I push around some of the other ones and drag the blue-covered text in front of me, considering.
“I, uh, wrote a Religion paper on it in high school.” Cal gets up and circles around to my side of the table, while I get out of my seat so I can actually see the whole thing properly. “All thesescrolls found in this archaeological dig. Stuff like the Gospel of Judas, the Gospel of Mary Magdalene, a ton of prayers.”
“Oh. Hm. How veryMichelangelo Matrix.” I flip open the front cover, although not without some effort. “Didn’t realize I had anything Christian in that stack.”
“I mean…depending on your definition.” Behind me, Cal shrugs. “Like, yeah, we studied them at Catholic school, but as apocrypha. Not like, actual canon. They really emphasize an individual spiritual knowledge of God instead of, you know…”
“The authority of the church?” I offer, rolling back the thick title page, then the table of contents.
“Yeah. Very influenced by Plato.”
I stop turning pages so I can glance back at Cal. “And you claim not to be a scholar,” I say, smiling.
Cal just blushes.
“I heard they’re doing a sequel” I say. “Maybe they need a strapping young undergraduate research assistant to assist Fabienne?—”
Cal’s face reddens. “I don’t have a crush on Fabienne De La Croix.”
“OrDr. Montgomery,” I amend, shrugging. “Whatever floats your boat.”
“I mean I don’t have a crush on her because she’s abook character,” Cal clarifies. “Not because she’s a girl.”
As he says it, he puts his hand at the small of my back. Now I feelmyface go red.
“Having crushes on book characters is perfectly normal,” I mutter, but I lean over the text and refocus. I see now that there’s a section earmarked—well, set off with a bookmark—and I flip ahead, to a page that proclaims THE THUNDER, PERFECT MIND.
“This doesn’t look very Gospel-y,” I mutter.
Cal says nothing, and I realize he’s just reading. I do, too.
I was sent forth from the power,
and I have come to those who reflect upon me,
and I have been found among those who seek after me.
And there it is. Fully in keeping with the form. I groan a little, try not to feel disappointed that I’m for yet anotherI am she who brought forth plentiful fields, or whatever this one is about, but I keep reading.
For I am the first and the last.
I am the honored one and the scorned one.
I am the whore and the holy one.
I am the wife and the virgin.
