Part 14 (1/2)
”Before that,” the teen replied. ”You were in the alley behind the bakery on Halloween!”
”You're right, I was,” the Wors.h.i.+per replied, suddenly serious. ”You saw me?”
”Kinda hard to miss, with those glow-in-the-dark pajamas,” Ransom replied. ”What were you supposed to be in that get-up?”
”What did I look like?”
”Radioactive.”
The redhead broke into a huge grin. ”I like that!”
”Really, though ... how did you put out so much light?” Ransom asked curiously.
Laying a finger beside his nose and winking, Baird replied, ”Trade secret.”
Prissie had already resigned herself to the fact that Ransom would probably be sitting with her family during the service. Her folks arrived, and her dad was all smiles to find his part-timer mingling with his lot. During the scramble for seats in the gymnasium, Prissie filed in from one end of the row Tad had reserved only to meet Ransom in the middle. She turned around to march right back out, only to run up against her father.
”Trade?” she begged.
He firmly replied, ”Sit.”
Her pained expression was still in place when she slunk into her seat, but Ransom was too busy talking with Neil on his other side to notice. Leaning forward, she looked for her usual companion only to spot Koji sitting with Milo on the end of the row ahead. Twisting the end of her braid around her finger, she wished she was sitting with them instead. Ransom was too close for comfort.
As if to confirm this, the teen b.u.mped her with his elbow. ”I have no idea what I'm supposed to do,” he confided in a low voice.
”You've never been to church before?”
Ransom shook his head. ”I had to go to a wedding once, but I don't think that counts.”
Prissie shrugged. ”Just do what everyone else does.”
”I'd rather know why everyone else does what they do.”
”Well, this isn't exactly my church,” she explained. ”We do things differently than they do here.”
Her cla.s.smate's eyebrows quirked. ”So you don't do what they do? Huh. Do you think they're doing it wrong?”
Feeling a little defensive, Prissie replied, ”No, I just don't do everything they do because they do some things I don't want to do.”
”I thought you said I should do what everyone else does,” he challenged. ”Strange advice from someone who doesn't!”
This was getting ridiculous. With a stern look, she demanded, ”Are you doing this on purpose?”
”Doing what?” he asked innocently.
Prissie flapped her hands in exasperation. ”This!”
”Yep. Totally on purpose.”
Rolling her eyes, she muttered, ”I'm done.”
His brown eyes were s.h.i.+ning. ”It was fun while it lasted. But seriously, though ... I might have questions.”
”Why me?” Prissie folded her arms. ”You could ask Neil.”
The music started, and the only answer she received was a shrug and a crooked smile. Something told her it was no use. Ransom was determined to pick her brain ... or maybe just plain pick on her.
He behaved all through the first part of the service, standing and sitting at all the right times. It made sense that he didn't know any of the songs, but he wasn't rude about it. As far as Prissie could tell, Ransom mostly gazed with curiosity around the gymnasium while drumming his fingers against the side of his leg. Then Pastor Kern jogged to center stage and launched into a brief recap of his Christmas series.
Almost immediately, Ransom leaned over and asked, ”Is he serious? 'Naughty or Nice'?”
Prissie frowned at him. It wasn't polite to talk during service.
”Don't give me that look. I warned you I'd be asking questions,” he whispered back.
”Just listen. He'll explain himself better than I could.”
Ransom tilted his head to one side, then nodded, conceding the point.
Dennis Kern was saying, ”Naughty and nice, good and bad-they sound cut and dried, but there are times when everything isn't as it seems.”
Stealing a peek at her angelic friends, Prissie nodded to herself. It was true. Appearances could be deceiving.
”Take reputations,” the pastor continued. ”There are those who have good ones; they're respectable citizens with all the appearances of righteousness. We have a prime example right here in the Christmas story-Herod! This king in his castle greets the wise men from the east, telling them he wants to wors.h.i.+p the child of prophecy, the same as them. Herod says all the right things, but there's murder in his heart.”
Ransom muttered, ”Yeah, I read about him. He was bad news.”
Prissie s.h.i.+vered and whispered back, ”I don't like lies ... or liars.”
”On the other hand, you have someone like Mary, the young woman chosen by G.o.d to give birth to His Son. She did nothing for which she should be ashamed. Nowadays, Christians consider the role she humbly accepted to be an honor, calling her favored by G.o.d. But was she praised for her choice at the time? Her family, her friends, her fiance - they all believed that she'd sinned. Scandal nearly cost her upcoming marriage, and although the rumors and speculations were unjust, I'm sure they hurt. The poor girl's reputation was shot.”
”Relate much?” Ransom whispered. ”They're giving you c.r.a.p at school, but it's a farce.”
”I haven't done anything wrong,” Prissie muttered.
Jostling her again, he pointedly replied, ”Me, either, but some people can't be reasonable.”
”There's another reputation to consider in the Christmas story!” Pastor Kern exclaimed, scanning the congregation. ”The good and the bad are easy to peg, but have you ever considered those with no reputation? They were right there, in the thick of things, the rabble of the hillsides-lowly men with humble livelihoods. No one expected anything from a bunch of men who watched over the herds. No fame, no status, no skills, no expectations-yet these were the ones to see the sky fill with angels, to hear the heavenly chorus, to learn the good news!”