Page 4 of Theoretically Straight

“She’s going to have that post-mission trip high,” Harrison adds quietly, turning his gaze back to his phone. “I’ve been trying to mentally prepare myself all morning.”

I sigh and scroll aimlessly on my phone. “I think she’s still upset that I didn’t go.”

“To South Africa? Seriously? She knows those trips cost money, right? Like, acrapton of money? And not everyone has rich parents and rich family friends that can just–”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” I interrupt. “But apparently, there were some fundraising things I could have done, you know, like the yard sales and car washes and stuff. I don’t know. God would have provided the funds if I had just had a little faith, right?”

Harrison scoffs. “Yeah, sure,” he replies, sarcasm dripping from his tone.

I shrug again. “I don’t know, maybe she’s right. Maybe I should have gone. I’ve been needing some…” I trail off, trying to find the words. “Spiritual recharging? I don’t know. I didn’t even try.”

Should I have tried?I pray silently.Did You really want me to go?

Unsurprisingly, I don’t get a discernible answer.

“I don’t think your parents would have gone for it,” Harrison adds. “Mine wouldn’t have.”

“I don’t know. With the right convincing, they would have, right? I mean, if God called me to go on a mission trip, I’m pretty sure my parents would drop everything to make it happen.”

Harrison chuckles dryly. “Mine wouldn’t.”

I consider this for a moment. The guilt—conviction, I should say—makes my stomach tighten. Did God try to call me to South Africa? Would I have even realized it?You would have made it obvious, right, God?

“Theodore!”

I recognize the sing-song voice immediately, and my heart lurches in my chest—ugh, I really wish it would stop doing that. I pocket my phone and awkwardly scramble to my feet. Sienna is skipping over to me with a big toothy smile, her rich copper hair bouncing with every step. “Ahh, I missed you so much!” She practically tackles me in a hug, almost knocking me back down.

“Sienna! I missed you, too!” I wrap my arms around her and give her a light squeeze. She reeks of vanilla and sugar—so sweet it’s almost sickening. “How was the trip? Was the flight okay?”

Sienna pulls herself out of the hug and beams at me, her blue eyes sparkling. “Oh, Theo, everything was amazing. God is doing so much in that little village, and I’m just so, so blessed that I was given the opportunity to witness it!” She pokes me solidly in the chest. “We need to have coffee one night this week to talk about how the Spirit is moving and what He’s laid on my heart about what we can do right here in Specter!”

I nod eagerly, wearing the most genuine expression I can muster. “Oh yeah, definitely! I just need to check my work schedule. I’ll text you!”

She arches an eyebrow. “You better, mister!” Her eyes finally release their hold on me, and her gaze turns to Harrison. “Aww, Harry! Good to see you too!” She wraps her arms around Harrison with a little less enthusiasm than she had with me.

“Hey, Sienna,” Harrison says, his eyes meeting mine as they embrace. He gives me a sympathetic expression, and I immediately look away. I know what he’s getting at, and I refuse to acknowledge it. Nope. Not today.

“Well, I’ve got to go get ready for worship, but save me a seat for the lesson, okay?” Sienna flashes me another perfect smile, and I nod in response. With that, Sienna takes off towards the front of the room where the band is setting up.

“You good?” Harrison asks.

“Yes, dude, I’m fine,” I grumble. “It’s been like two months at this point. You’re the only one that ever brings this up, and quite frankly, that makes it weirder than it already is.”

“Okay, okay,” Harrison raises his arms defensively. “My bad. I’m just trying to look out for you, man.”

I can feel my jaw clench, and the twist of guilt in my stomach is acting up again. The temptation to drive home or escape to Starbucks for a while is strong, but I shake it off. I choose to change the subject instead. “Is Elise coming today?”

Harrison slides back down to sit on the floor again. “Nah, she’s with her dad this weekend.”

Ah, the woes of being a child of divorce. That, and Elise doesn’t have her own car yet. Harrison and I are the only ones in our friend group who were fortunate enough to gain our freedom right away. Harrison’s car—a fifteen-year-old white Toyota Corolla—was a hand-me-down from his older brother. Mine was a product of good old-fashioned hard work, surprisingly legal teenage labor, and a small loan from my dad. The deal was that as long as I started working part-time at fifteen and was responsible enough to keep that job for a year while also maintaining decent grades, my dad would help me put a down payment on a car of my choice (within reason). It’s the American way, after all. Who needs a childhood when you can have a car? And to his credit, my dad kept his word. I applied at a local restaurant as a busboy a week after my fifteenth birthday and worked a couple of nights a week and almost every Saturday for over a year, saving almost every penny I earned. Then, about a month after my sixteenth birthday, I finally found an affordable but sleek used red Honda Fit. It was love at first sight. I named her Eileen after my favorite song from the 80s. My mother was not pleased, but I thought it was perfectly appropriate.

Not long after Harrison and I resettle on the floor, Chase is at the microphone on the stage up front. “Good morning, Foundation family! Let’s gather around for worship!”

Worship is honestly what makes going to church worth the effort. Worship is where it all feels more real, more tangible. The music starts playing, and it feels as though the presence of God is no longer a question. He’s just…herewith me. He’s here with everyone, and sometimes, it even makes everything else fade away. All the stress about school, about work, about my future, about social media, about my love life—or enormous lack thereof—everything all takes a backseat to simply being present in the moment with God. And it makes it all worth it.

So, as the music plays, I lose myself in the best way. I close my eyes, sway to it, even occasionally feel my hands lift into the air. Sometimes, I’m a little self-conscious about how the music affects me, worried others might think I’m putting on a show for attention, but I’m honestly not. In fact, attention is the last thing that I want. Music justmovesme. It always has. For some reason, God chose not to give me any musical talent, so unfortunately, I can’t really sing or play any instruments, but man, does music still move me. It’s the best part—maybe even the only good part—about church, and I never want to miss it.

Today, however…

---