he didn’t appear to—that this had led some to say he was gay.
Cole found it a mystery that Clem wanted to preach even though he wasn’t good at it. But though he knew he didn’t have anything like PW’s gift, Clem said he couldn’t imagine any other life for himself.
“Ma tells how I used to talk about being a soldier or basketball star or some other thing, but I don’t remember any of that. In my mind I was always going to be a preacher.”
Also remarkable to Cole was that Clem had never seen Jesus or been spoken to by Jesus, not even in a dream. Jesus had never woken Clem in the night with a message for him or sent him any special sign. Not that this bothered Clem. The Lord shows himself to me every day, he said. He did not envy those who’d been granted signs and visions and face time. He did not feel lesser than any rapture child or baby preacher.
Though Cole couldn’t help feeling there was something truly weird about Clem, something that didn’t necessarily have to do with his calling, the two were usually at ease together. And now that he was over his embarrassment at not having answered the door, he was glad Clem had come. His presence warmed the kitchen like something in the oven.
“Are you hungry?” asked Cole, who’d just realized he was quite hungry himself. “Do you want some breakfast?”
“Actually, that sounds good. But why don’t you let me get it? I could make us some French toast.”
“Okay. I’ll help in a minute.” And as Clem took over the kitchen, setting out bread, milk, butter, and eggs, Cole typed a message to Addy.
The French toast was perfect: eggy and crusty and on the dark side, the way Cole liked it. Clem had microwaved some bacon, too, while Cole set the table. Mindful of those still sleeping upstairs, they moved quietly and kept their voices down, and in that hush, in the soft early light, they might have been performing some ritual.
They ate in silence, full attention on their food, hungry, growing boys first.
In his message to Addy, Cole had said, “I’ve been thinking over your idea about my coming to see you.”
In fact, he had been thinking a lot about it, and the more he thought about it, the more appealing the idea became. He had always wanted to explore the world. Why not start with Berlin, Germany?
What he hadn’t said to Addy was this: “I know you care about me, but I’m not the most important thing to you. I know that even if you never saw me again, you’d be okay.”
Otherwise, he thought, she would not have left without him.
Not that he was going to hold this against her. “I’d like to make the trip as soon as possible.”
Of course, PW wouldn’t want him to go, even if it was just for a visit. Cole would have to explain—as he was going to have to explain about another decision he had just made: when summer was over, he did not want to go on studying with Tracy. Even if he had to commute all the way to a different town, even if he’d be the only kid in Salvation City not being homeschooled, he wanted to go back to regular school. He knew that Tracy and PW would blame Addy for this. But in fact: It was the day Taffy had come to pick up Starlyn. After they left, a forlorn Cole sat in front of the TV, clicking the remote until his attention was caught by images of some kids around his own age, maybe a little older. It turned out to be a news program about a special school in Washington, D.C. Not a private school—the government paid the tuition—but not a school that just anybody could go to, either. You had to compete to get in, and ninety-eight percent of those who tried to get in were rejected. Those who were accepted studied subjects that were more advanced than what kids their age normally studied. The very top students took college courses.
The students, who came from all over the country, were shown in an auditorium at some kind of assembly. “You are looking at America’s next generation of great leaders and discoverers and Nobel Prize winners,” the TV reporter said.
Kids in classrooms or in the cafeteria or out on the school lawn discussed science and politics and even sports in a way Cole had