“Tell us again – exactly what happened!” Roger says hurriedly, scribbling down what Catherine says while she competently repeats the story.

“We – me and Jon – we’s in the same French class – AP French Lit… so he asked the teach to turn the heater off ‘cause it was damn hot in that room. But Madam Pomme is such an idiot, she kept the heater on – Frenchies,” she adds disdainfully, “And… I dunno, Jon was sweating and he started looking pale. I thought he was sick.”

Roger keeps scribbling every little thing Catherine says, occasionally stopping to flick his pen because it runs low on ink.

“You say he was really hot?” Roger asks.

“Yeah. I mean, he was sweating. It was hot but not that bad. And he looked pooped.”

“Spawn of Satan?” Henry whispers behind us.

“SHUT UP!” I scream. He jumps back waving his hands innocently.

“Jeez, Bev! Chill! The boys’ll know what to do, it’s nothing big! Jeez!”

“This is Elder Smith,” River says on my doorstep. He’s wearing a black suit, and behind him is a burly black man with a spiffy suit on and a friendly smile. I smile back and look at River.

“What?” I ask.

“Elder Smith is gonna help us. We need you to come to a service with us, though, that’s all he asks in return.”

Behind him is a black Lincoln with an old woman.

“That’s my mother,” Elder Smith says when he notices my attention. “Sister Bessie Smith. I’d like if you seven would attend a service with us.”

“Eh….”

“Bev, c’mon,” River whines. “And Henry, too.”

“Fine,” I grumble.

Fifteen minutes later, Henry and I are wearing our best imitation of church clothes and getting in to the back of the Lincoln with River.

“Where’re the others?” I ask him quietly while Elder Smith drives.

“Roger’s taking them.”

“How long does church last?” Henry whispers.

“Um…. I dunno.”

Elder Smith drives us quite a distance and I have to thank God for having Henry and River in the car; otherwise I’d freak out about the fact that we’re in a total stranger’s car.

We stop at a church called Emerson Memorial Church of God in Christ.

“C’mon,” Elder Smith says brightly. He gets out and goes around to help his mother while Henry fumbles with the door handle. As soon as he gets it open, the three of us tumble out and see the black hearse. The backdoor of the hearse opens and Catherine and Rodney come out looking very grumpy.

“It stinks in there,” Catherine grumbles. She’s got on a dress that’s nicer than mine and when Henry starts to give her a strange look that isn’t necessarily disgust, I pinch his arm and lead him behind the Rushmore boys.

“These Pentecostals have some badass services,” Rodney says behind us in a low voice while we pass a couple with their son.

“Really?” I ask.

“Yeah. Not as stupid as those conformist Catholic sons of –,”

“Praise Him! Bobby, you brought more youth!” A tall man thumps Elder Smith on the back and comes up to each of us. “Welcome to Emerson Memorial. Hey, Roger,” he adds. Roger and his boys nod professionally. “And who are these young ones? Have you all accepted Jesus Christ as your lord and personal savior?”

Catherine looks confused because he asked this very quickly, but I nod seriously because ‘yes’ seems like the best answer.

“Hallelujah!” the man calls happily. With that, he bids us goodbye and walks inside, humming an upbeat tune.

Strange.

I look around the parking lot and notice that everyone here has something in common that makes us seem a bit out of place. I can’t put my finger on it, though. I’d think it was height, but River and Rodney are the tallest amongst us and they can easily outstrip a few of the churchgoers. Maybe they’re all dressed differently? But no; the older women have on extravagant dresses and outlandish hats, but the younger ones are dressed like us. Some of them notice us, though.

“Everyone here is black,” Henry says thoughtlessly. A swift thump from Roger hitting Henry on the head silences my brother.

“They’re not all black, there’s some white people inside and one of the Jurisdictional President is Indian!” Toby whispers.

“I didn’t mean anything!” Henry groans while he rubs his head. I guess Roger can lay the hurt if he wants to. “It’s just… I noticed, that’s all.”

“Let’s get inside before Whitey decides to burn a cross,” Roger says, glaring at my brother.

We walk in and are greeted by ushers who hand us all programs and offer us fans. Toby takes one gratefully but the rest of us turn the offer down. I’m disconcerted when Roger and Toby head close to the front pews.

“Let’s get closer to the back,” I whisper. River shakes his head and seats the seven of us in the third row. Elder Smith is in the pulpit grinning broadly and shoots Roger a thumbs-up before talking to the old man beside him. Service hasn’t started yet, so I’m totally prepared to run my mouth off.

“Explain,” I whisper to Roger, who’s sitting on Henry’s other side. On my right are Catherine and Rodney, who are both being unnaturally silent, but Henry’s running his mouth off with Roger so I need to get a word in.

“Elder Smith has performed exorcisms,” Roger answers quietly.

“Are you serious? Like… like that movie?” Henry asks, already wide-eyed.

“Well… I guess… sort of. I’ve seen him work, though. He takes demons out of people. But they’re not all like… demons like Beelzebub and stuff. Illnesses, problems – he can heal. All of them can. One thing they believe is that if you need it and believe it, God can do it.”

“But we’re not Pentecostal!”

“But he is. Henry,” he turns to my brother. “You believe in God, right?”

“Of course.”

“You believe that Jesus died on the cross to save your soul? And all of ours – do you believe that Jesus died on the cross for our sins?”

“I – um – yeah, I guess.”

“During the altar call I need you to go up. Let Elder Smith – I already told him to make sure he does – let him touch you.”

Henry reddens in the face so Roger shakes his head.

“I mean on the – on your forehead. He’ll touch you with anointed oil.”

“What’ll it do?”

“We’ll find out.”

And, with those final words, Roger turns back to his two associates. Henry looks at me and I see a tinge of fear on his face.

“What d’you think it’ll do?” he asks me in a low voice.

“I dunno. It’ll help, I know that – they wouldn’t do anything to hurt you.”

“But… do they think I’m possessed?” when he asks this, Henry keeps a stoical expression as though he doesn’t care when I can tell he so obviously does.

“Of course not.”

He chuckles a bit so I smile and pat him on the arm.

“Henry, everything will be alright.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s just sorta creepy.”

Ignoring the babyishness of it, I half-hug him and kiss him on the forehead (he immediately wipes it, though) until he pushes me off, mumbling about how I’m making him look like a baby. I keep my arm around his neck, though, and start to crack jokes about how now he’s too tall for me to hug properly before Rodney coughs loudly and mutters something about church starting.

I may not learn anything from being hear except for one thing; these Pentecostals like their music loud.

“HALLELUJAH!” someone keeps shouting into a mic. Henry’s got a pained expression on his face while Rodney continuously mutters about how he won’t be able to hear afterwards. Catherine looks like she’s already gone deaf.

“These conformist – argh – turn down the goddamn –,” he catches himself and says, “goshdarn organ!”

But the organist only gets louder and the choir does its best to keep up. The drummer is having a blast all the while.

Whenever they’re not singing, they’re reading scriptures or saying some call to worship – something like that. Anyway, I can barely stand it and want out after the first hour and a half, but then a man goes up to preach, I assume, and really lets the Word get into us.

“HALLELUJAH!” he keeps shouting in between words. “HALLELUJAH!” or “PRAISE HIM!”

Henry’s focused on what the preacher’s saying while Rodney’s eyes have slid out of focus. Catherine is flipping through a Bible, looking for dirty scenes to amuse herself and occasionally showing them to Rodney or me to snicker about.

When the preacher finally finishes he does what we came for – the altar call.

Henry jumps up before anybody else and nearly trips over the Rushmore boys to get out of the pew. They follow him, not nearing his eagerness.

“Do we go?” I ask Rodney hesitantly. He’s paying no attention to the happenings and is instead staring at the back of an old woman’s hat. Catherine shrugs and stays seated beside him. I stand up but don’t move, as everyone else in the church is standing or going up to get a blessing.

“What’s your name son?” the preacher asks in the mic while Elder Smith stands behind him with a bottle of olive oil in his hands.

“Henry Watson,” Henry says.

“Henry – Brother Watson,” the preacher corrects himself. “And the Lord put it on your heart to come today?”

“Er… yes, yes sir,” Henry says. Jeez, he’s lying in church in front of all these people. I hope he doesn’t get struck by brimstone or anything like that.

“Praise the Lord…” the preacher gets some oil on his fingers and lays them on Henry’s forehead. Henry shuts his eyes and seems to be waiting patiently while the preacher says some prayers. The preacher jumps or shouts, “HALLELUJAH!” while he does this, but Henry seems totally fine.

“What’s going on?” I whisper to Rodney. He doesn’t answer me, so I turn to see if he’s gone to sleep; he’s practically smothering Catherine. Oh, Jesus. “Hey, you two,” I hiss. “We’re in church for Christ’s sake, don’t get all –,”

“Bevin, we gotta get outta here,” Rodney mutters, moving aside. He’d been fumbling with Catherine’s cast, which is shaking.

“What’s wrong?” I ask quietly; the people around us are starting to notice but the room at large hasn’t because they’re humming a song while the preacher works on Henry.

“It’s – Cat’s arm –chill,” he adds to Catherine, whose eyes are watering. She’s biting her lip, apparently to stifle any sobbing noises she may make, and looking from me to her cast as though something is inside of it and gnawing her skin.

“HALLELUJAH!”

“Get it off!” Catherine starts whining. Rodney hits the cast with his palm in an attempt to numb the feeling while Catherine keeps struggling to get her fingers in. “Get it off, Rodney, get it off, it hurts!”

“What is it?” he whispers urgently.

“I dunno, it’s like –,”

“GYEEEEEEEEEEYAHHHHH!”

Everyone in the building startles and some men rush forward to the preacher who’s on all fours; Henry, who pushed him back, is shouting things unintelligibly.

“Get him, get him down!” Elder Smith shouts. The Rushmore boys are already at his side, lowering Henry to the ground so Elder Smith can rub more oil on his forehead. People begin to mutter or cry out, “Hallelujah!” or scream incoherently, like Henry is. My brother writhes under the weight of the Rushmore boys and screams loudest whenever Elder Smith touches his skin. I nearly run to his side when I remember Catherine, who’s begun to cry and moan for Rodney to break the cast.

“Cat, I – I dunno – Bevin, get a fork – I dunno –,”

Catherine doesn’t wait for him – she gets up and squeezes out of the pew to run, crying, outside. Rodney is after her in a heartbeat.

“Bevin! Bevin!” I look up and see Toby waving for me. I leave the pew and go to him to see my brother, still babbling, with Elder Smith praying over his jerking body.

“What’s wrong with him?” I ask anxiously, touching Henry’s knee. “Why’s he making that noise?”

“He’s – ow, get his foot – he’s speaking in tongues. Same as those people,” he adds, nodding to the people who are hollering behind us. “Elder Smith might be the one who can finish this for Henry.”

I nod and tighten my grip on Henry’s ankles. He keeps going on in tongues until Elder Smith finishes and Henry’s eyes gain their typical awareness. He groans loudly and coughs dryly before taking deep breaths and blinking.

“Praise God,” Elder Smith mumbles, patting Henry’s shoulder. “Praise Him….”

“Henry,” Roger says, grinning. “You feel better?”

My brother keeps blinking until he sits up and rubs his eyes.

“I… yeah, I feel fine,” he says blearily. The room stays loud and noisy, full of people praising God, so I pull my brother into a quick hug.

Elder Smith and the preacher start blessing others while the Rushmore boys and I move Henry into a backroom. He seems weak on his feet, but that’s all.

“You feel better?” Roger repeats once we’re in the back.

“Yeah… I mean… I feel… sorta… weird. Spent up. Like…after… y’know,” he stops and looks at me before raising his eyebrows at the Rushmore boys. I frown when Roger and River both go, “ahh,” while Toby still looks baffled.

Boys.

“Where’s Rodney?” Toby asks to take attention from his exclusion regarding the feeling Henry felt.

“He and Catherine left – her arm hurt. Oh, God, let’s go check on her –,” I say suddenly, marching for the door. The boys follow me and we head outside.

“Rodney!” Roger shouts.

“Catherine!” River calls.

We don’t get any responses, so we just keep walking around, looking for our friends, until Henry calls us from behind a big van. I have to kick off my heels to run over and see what he’s talking about.

“Is it them?” I ask stupidly, stumbling over. It is. Kneeling behind the large minivan are Catherine and Rodney, the former apparently passed out.

“What happened?” I ask breathlessly.

“Her arm,” Rodney says through his teeth. “It started bleeding.”

Roger is already looking at her hand. Catherine’s blood is staining the ground and her fingers. I feel my throat start to itch.

“Is she dead?” I ask dryly.

“No. She said it hurt,” Rodney sounds very odd, like he’s doing his best not to kick something. “She kept crying about how it hurt. And then she passed out.”

I stare while my eyes start to well with tears as Roger guesses that Catherine passed out because she was in pain. The boys agree.

“Can we take her to the hospital now?” Rodney asks darkly. It sounds like he’d been wondering why nobody suggested this beforehand. "And not some conformist hospital?"

“Yeah – yeah… yeah, get her in the hearse.”

Rodney winces at the word hearse, but gets Catherine up on his own and follows us to the hearse. He puts her in the back and gets in beside her. Before I climb in after him, Elder Smith comes outside to see us.

“Boys,” he says to the Rushmore boys. “Come back.”

“Yes sir,” they say nicely. Elder Smith grins and waves to me and Henry. We wave back and get in the back. The Rushmore boys climb in the front and soon we’re off again. For the second time, I’m heading to a hospital with Catherine, passed out, in the back of the Rushmore hearse.

Author's Note: sorta short