Sunday morning Justin sat brooding in the early church service. The minister’s voice was like the drone of a housefly on the edge of his consciousness as he mentally hashed on his problem. Someone right ahead of Justin noisily dropped a couple of songbooks and bent over to pick them up. He was suddenly again aware of where he was. He deliberately focused on what the minister was saying, more to see if he was nearing the end of his sermon, than out of any interest in his message. He was reading from Isaiah 59:17 and 18.
“For he put on righteousness as a breastplate, and a helmet of salvation on his head; and he put on the garments of vengeance for clothing, and was clad with zeal as a cloak. According to their deeds, accordingly he will repay, fury to his adversaries, recompence to his enemies; to the islands he will repay recompence.”
Idly Justin imagined himself in the role of the one who was zealously vanquishing evil enemies, who in turn took the forms of Brandon and Todd. Clad in the armor of the passage he thrashed the pair as they deserved until they cowered before him. As his attention wandered back into the building he realized that the vengeful one being spoken of was God. But he doubted that God would come down and help with Brandon and Todd, so he resumed his daydream and he didn’t even hear the words on forgiveness that invariably concluded every service.
Later that afternoon Justin practiced in his driveway, vaguely conscious of the fact that the drills they’d been taught were working, and that his skills were definitely improving. But most of his thought was focused on the problem with Brandon and Todd. In a daydream he fantasized about just knocking Brandon’s head right into a wall. In reality it seemed like he was the one beating his head against a wall. The more he had thought about it, the more he saw the truth of what Ernie and Matt had said. Talking to Brandon seemed useless, if not counter productive. Actually punching him would probably only blow his chances at ever making the team. As he went over these frustrating facts for about the hundredth time Shannon and Andy walked up.
“What are you mad about?” asked Andy when she caught a glimpse of Justin’s scowling face.
“Don’t worry about him.” Said Shannon, “He looks like that most of the time these days. I think basketball makes him cranky.”
“Who cares what you think?” replied Justin. Then, as her eyebrows went up and she nodded knowingly to Andy, he realized that he was cranky, and tired of it, himself. He hurled his basketball into a plastic tub inside the garage and stalked into the house determined to find something to get his mind off the whole thing for a while.
In the kitchen he opened the refrigerator and stared unseeing into it for about thirty seconds. Then he closed it and went into the family room. Grabbing the remote and jumping the back of the couch, he landed sitting with his feet on the coffee table and began aimlessly flipping through the channels. But after a couple of minutes Shannon and Andy came in with sandwiches and drinks, and a box of Popsicle sticks, glue and construction paper. They settled in the middle of the floor and began to talk about Mrs. Michaels’s little girls and how they were going to help them make pinwheels Monday morning.
“I can’t watch anything this way,” Justin snapped, turning the TV off and slamming the remote down.
Sorry, Justin,” Andy apologized. “Do you want us to go somewhere else?”
“No, forget it,” he muttered, realizing he didn’t even know what had been on the screen a moment ago. Also realizing he hadn’t yet succeeded in getting his mind off things, he got up and stomped up to his room. He flopped on his bed and stared straight up for a few seconds where spots of softly colored light covered the ceiling. Idly wondering about the colored light he glanced at the window where the evening sun slanted in. On the sill he noticed the strange book he’d borrowed from Ernie. The faceted jewels on the cover were catching the sunlight and throwing it all over the room. “That’s it,” he thought. “It’s hard to read without paying at least some attention. And if you’re paying attention to what you’re reading, you can’t worry about something else.” He also began to remember how much trouble Ernie had had describing the book, and then how strange he’d been at the end of their visit. To think he’d actually suggested that the old book could help their situation. Well, Ernie could be a little weird about things sometimes, and his attitudes were definitely not Justin’s, but his curiosity about the book was definitely building. He shifted and stretched in order to reach the book in the window without getting up. He examined the cover again before opening it. The way the jewels filled with light gave them the appearance of having flames inside. Justin glanced at the light switch across the room and back at the book. There was plenty of light coming in the window to read, even if it was the heavy, golden evening sun. He decided not to get up for the white electric light. He turned past the end pages for the first time to find that the warm light he’d chosen made the pages look creamy and softer than paper should be, almost like fabric. Turning the pages to where the print began he found a strange inscription preceding the actual book. It was in brown ink and looked like calligraphy instead of most printers’ type. He wondered if it had been hand written there by someone who had once had the book. It read:
Be Warned
Upon Turning this Page:
Those who seek a story
Will find one lies herein.
But for those who seek for answers,
An adventure will begin!
“Answers,” Justin thought idly. “If only I could find the answers to my problem in this book. But I seriously doubt it can tell me how to put Brandon and Todd in their places.” With a sigh he turned the next page and read.
