Before Xia had the chance to answer, an extremely bubbly blond dressed in
a Santa hat knocked loudly on our table. I found the gesture not only odd, but
unbelievably annoying.
“Hi guys,” she started, without any observance for our former
conversation. “I’m Brittany and I’m collecting donations for ‘Change for
Jesus.’ Get it?” Her resulting chuckle was so condescending that I had to
suppress my desire to punch her.
“Anyway, this year the Christian students have teamed up together to
collect money to renovate an old church somewhere in the city. We’ve collected
over three thousand dollars just on campus. Will you donate?”
I smiled. “The money is going to renovate a church? Not feed the hungry
or clothe the poor?”
A look of complete seriousness fell over her face, “By helping Christians
here you help Christians everywhere.”
“We aren’t interested,” Xia glared sharply.
“But Thanksgiving is just a few days away,” Brittany pointed to her Santa
hat like she was making some sort of coherent statement, “now is the time for
giving.”
Her sugary-ness was too sweet to handle.
“We don’t believe in Jesus. Xia’s Wiccan, and I’m not religious,” I said
tersely.
Brittany’s eyes grew big, but not in shock or surprise… I was pretty sure
it was anger.
“But without Jesus you cannot be saved, for no man can enter the kingdom
of God but by him. He performed many miracles, healing the sick and turning
water into wine—”
“Here,” I interrupted, reaching for my cup. “Will tea do?” I shook the
cup three times, and peeled back the lid. Alcoholic dregs slid slowly back down
the sides. “Now it’s wine. See? Nothing special.”
Brittany wasn’t fazed. “It was always wine.”
I reached for Xia’s cup angrily. She graciously traded me for the wine
and snickered.
I repeated the trick, this time showing Brittany the tea first. When I
showed her the transformed liquid, she glared at me with cougar-like intensity.
“You dare mock God?” she
screamed loudly enough that half of the cafeteria stopped to stare, and the
other half, wondering why the whole place just went silent, stared too.
“Yup,” I replied, as matter-of-factly as I could. I wasn’t upset or
annoyed anymore. This was actually sort of fun.
Brittany took one step backward and pointed a finger at us. “He will
judge you,” she said, shaking uncontrollably. She glared at us a moment longer
as if trying to leave us with a lasting impression of guilt before she then
turned and stormed off.
“Too bad she didn’t cry,” Xia said, chuckling, once Brittany was out of
earshot.
“If she would have, I might have felt bad. I don’t mind religious people,
it’s the hypocrites I can’t stand.”
Xia took a sip of wine, her eyes deviously questioning.
“Brittany, for example,” I continued, “really, really, enjoys her fornication.”
Xia’s brilliant smile flashed before her mouth burst open into
uncontrollable laughter. “How could you possibly know that?” she chided.
I grinned back. “The wind told me.”
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