BIble School Ambitions

I wore olive green slacks and socks, burgundy shoes and belt, and a white shirt. For an eleven-year-old, I looked pretty sharp. “’Blessed is he who believes in Me for though he may perish, he will not die but have ever lasting life,’” I said into the bathroom mirror. I knew my lines well. I should. For two weeks now, I had spent every night studying.

Tonight, The Church of the Nazarene would perform its annual vacation Bible school play. This year, we would do “Children unto Jesus” and I had the most lines. I’m not kidding. I counted. I had six more lines than Janice Timmons, and she’s good. I bet she was so jealous.

I brushed my teeth, bending over the sink so as not to get any toothpaste on my clothes. I then combed my hair. It’s short and black, but one clump of hair always stood up straight on the left side. Mom said it was a “cow lick.” I thought that’s kind of gross. A cow licking hair, it gave me the creeps. Running warm water from the sink, I scooped up a handful and rubbed it onto my head until my hair stayed in place. Ready as I’d ever be, I walked into the living room.

Upon seeing me, my mom stood up and yelled to my dad in the bedroom. “Dave, come in here and look at your son.”

“Hold on,” answered my dad. “I’m busy.”

“You’re so handsome,” said my mom, picking invisible lint off my shirt.

“I found it,” said my dad coming into the
living room. “My Frank Lloyd Wright tie.” He slid it around my shirt, and pulled it tight. I couldn’t breathe. “You’ll knock the girls dead with this,” he said.

“Dad!”

“Dave, don’t embarrass the boy,” Mom said. “Luke, you look very handsome.”

“Your Mom and I are going to pick up your grandparents.” My dad finished straightening my tie. “You and Brian head on down to the church.”

I looked over at my seven-year-old brother, who was sitting at the dinning room table scribbling in a coloring book. He wore a black suit and a yellow bow tie. He looked up at me, smiling that evil smile of his that everyone thought was so cute. “Oh isn’t he adorable. Look at that blonde curly hair and blue eyes. He’s just an angel.” That’s what everyone always said about him. I knew better.

“Dad, take him with you.”

“There’s no room in the car for all of us,” my dad said, grabbing his keys. “We’re late as it is. Just keep an eye on him and you’ll be fine.”

“He’s a changeling,” I told him. “Mark told me all about them. Fairies switched him at birth so he can do mean things to me.” My father gave me a funny look, raising his eyebrows, but I continued. “Just like at Bible school. I didn’t want him to go, but Mom said that he needed to learn about Jesus too. You know what he did? In front of everyone, he put two fingers together and pushed them against me. He said ‘break the cheese, you’re a naked Chinese.’ What does that mean? He kept doing it over and over. Everyone stared at us. A woman even came up and sat with us. He started doing it to her too. I was so mad. He even did it to the preacher!”

“I wonder where he got that from?” asked my mom, eyeing my dad.

“He must’ve picked it up at preschool,” said my dad, turning really red.

“I bet.”

“That’s not all, listen to this,” I said. “When classes started, he had Kool-Aid and cookies and then asked to use the bathroom. He went home and didn’t tell anybody. He never came back. The entire church looked for him. They even sent me home to find him.” I looked over at Brian. He just kept scribbling hard with a red crayon, not paying attention.

“Luke, I already told your father about it,” said my mom. “He thought he had to come home to use the bathroom. He just doesn’t know any better. Take him to the church. You’ll be fine and we’ll be there in a few minutes."

“Mom!”

“Just do it!” Mom snapped. “I’m in no mood to
argue with you,” she said in a softer tone.

We left for the church. I made him walk in front of me. That way he couldn’t do his finger thing. As we were walking through an alley next to a bank, Brian picked up a loose piece of the road. Black and the size of a tennis ball, he held it up and turned to me.

“If you hit me with that, so help me, I’ll knock the crap out of you.” I said, stepping away.

He leaned back, turned to the side, and sent it flying onto the rooftop above us. I hate to admit it, but I was kind of proud of the little guy. He had a heck of an arm. Something slammed me flat smack on the top of my head. Do you know what happens when you throw something on a roof and it doesn’t make it over the top? It comes right back at you.

I looked at the piece of road now lying in front of me, where it had landed after bouncing off my skull. Everything looked hazy. I felt warmth flowing down my face. Blood dripped onto the road. I could feel a pulsing coming from my head. I touched it. It stung, and felt sticky. It really, really hurt.

I ran for the church. One of the volunteers, Belinda, let out a gasp when she saw me. She grabbed me and rushed me to the bathroom. She held a towel that somebody brought from the kitchen onto my head. She said that it wasn’t that bad. Evidently head cuts bleed a lot.

Once it stopped, she cleaned my clothes off with paper towel, leaving small pieces of it all over me. I wiped my face as best as I could. When I looked in the mirror, I could see dried red specks and brown gunk covering my messed up hair. Bloodstains covered my tie and shirt. I looked like a zombie.

The show was about to start. I couldn’t go home and change. I took a seat on the bleachers where all the kids sat during the play. I saw Brian next to a group his own age. He didn’t even look at me. I asked God for a favor. I won’t tell you what, but it hasn’t happened yet.

To my right, sat Janice Timmons staring at me as if I had lice. She scrunched her nose and scooted away. She, of course, looked good. She
wore a pink dress with gray bows creating pigtails in her hair. She may have dressed pretty, but I still had the most lines. I was the star, not her. Not even my brother could change that. When everyone found out what had happened to me, I would get even more attention. They would also know the truth about Brian.

I played the narrator. I started the whole thing. The lights dimmed, the loud crowd immediately grew quiet and the curtain opened. I stepped down from the bleachers and walked onto the stage. I heard my mom say: “What happened?” I looked up. There must have been five hundred people there.

My belly felt as if worms crawled through it, and my knees got really shaky. I moved up to the microphone, getting my mouth as close as possible and said in a loud voice:

“God. . .”

“Man. . .”

“God. . ."

"I don’t know what in the hell my next line is.”

No one made a sound, except for my brother giggling.

Reverend Carmichael whispered to me from behind the curtains. “’I will make you fishers of men.’”

I leaned back and looked over at him. “What?”

“’Fishers of men’” he said in a voice
loud enough for everyone to hear. “’I will make you fishers of men.’”

Everyone laughed. I turned to see my dad squirming, and my mom hunkering down in her seat. I leaned back into the microphone. “What he said.” The crowd laughed even harder at me, even Grandma Carp.

Eventually, they stopped. I stood and waited, not sure of what to do next. After a minute, they started laughing again. I hadn’t even done anything.

“’If you follow me,’” the reverend screamed from offstage.The crowd started in again.I leaned back to see him. He frowned, and held the play wadded in his fist. “'Follow me!’” he screamed.

“Where are we going?” The crowd laughed so loud I couldn’t hear. The curtains closed.

“I think he may have a concussion,” yelled Belinda as she ran up to us from the right side of the stage.

“I can do his lines,” Janice Timmons said from her place on the bleachers. “I’ve learned everyone’s lines.”

Oh, if I just could have gotten hold of a pigtail. A quick jerk, was that too much to ask?

Belinda got my parents. My mom took me to the hospital. My dad stayed to watch Brian, and walk all the grandparents back to our house. As my mom drove, I bawled to her what Brian had done. I said that he had ruined my big night; my chance to show up Janice. By the time I finished, I breathed heavy and fast.

She pulled a small packet of Kleenex from the driver’s side door and handed it to me. “Blow,” she said, “and wipe your face.”

I blew my nose, and wiped my hand over my eyes. “Do you hate me now? I embarrassed you didn’t I?”

“Luke, I love you. I could never hate you.” She smiled. “Don’t you see what you did was wrong? It’s not Christian to want to show up people and you shouldn’t think evil thoughts about your brother or anyone. Brian loves you too. He didn’t throw the rock at you, or hit you on purpose.” She reached over and ran her hand around the back of my head. “It’s not about having the most lines, or being the star. It’s about working together and having fun. In a way, you could look at it like this: God cares about you so much that when He saw you thinking bad things, He decided to teach you a lesson. He wants you to be humble before Him. Every now and then God has to put us in our place, and dish out some tough love. I’d say you got yours tonight. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I said, and burst into tears all over again.

I understood everything. I’m so stupid. Why didn’t I figure this out before? Not only was my brother a changeling, but Janice was in on it too. I’d get both of them back.