The Devil Goes To Heaven

A Welcome Surprise

It's not surprising that I don't have any friends at school. Senior year has just started, and my only friends are my mom and dad—on a good day. I wouldn't put Delilah in that category because I barely know her, and she doesn't attend this school. I would've noticed for sure. I don't have friends at school for many reasons, but the main one must be Jesus. I didn't try to hide that I could see and hear Jesus, freshman through junior year. And since nobody else can see or hear Jesus, I look crazy. They've given me a title besides Judas. Yes, they don't call me Judas at the Catholic school of Hawkings High School. They call me "Jesus Freak." Creative, I know—although, I don't mind that nickname. I don't like my real name.

If you know nothing about Jesus's story, Judas betrays Jesus and turns him in for some silver coins. The amount he got was enough for a few meals at most. I know Jesus loved Judas as much as anyone, but I don't like my name being tied to the most iconic betrayal in history. It makes making friends at church hard.

"Hi, what's your name?"

"Judas. You? Oh. You're walking away now. OK."

That might be slightly exaggerated, but I've gotten my fair share of looks because of my name. One might wonder what kind of a mother would name her child after the man who's responsible for killing God. Well, I chose this name. But my biological mother—I call her by her name, Jenny—was devout in her faith. She loved God intensely. So much, in fact, that if I ever sinned or made a mistake that was seen as against God or if I said the Lord's name in vain, she'd lock me in a room for a day without food or water. Sometimes longer. There was nothing in that room. It had one window and was empty except for a Bible.

"Jessica, you will read the words of God until you've learned your lesson!"

I had nothing else to do in that room. So I read from Genesis to Revelation. I don't remember how many times I read the Bible, but I know I was thrown in that room ever since Jenny taught me how to read. She homeschooled me. And boy, was it fun. I can still feel the sting of the ruler hitting me for using my left hand to write. I'm right-handed now but not by choice. It was so bad once that she cut off a piece of my left ring finger. It's shorter than my pinky, in fact.

"Hey, Jesus Freak!" A pair of hands clap in front of my face, and I return to reality.

I'm in my first class of the day, and the one clapping is Daniel Martinez. Daniel is the star quarterback of the Hawks, our high school football team. Calling him handsome is an understatement. All the girls want him, and all the boys want to be him. He's wearing his letterman school jacket over a tight gray shirt that fits his muscular body well.

"Yes, my friend?" I say to him, gazing into his piercing brown eyes.

"Did you see the new girl? She's gonna sit right in that empty seat to your right. I checked the seating chart."

"No. I can't say I've seen her."

"Well, she's hot. And I'm not exaggerating when I say people are calling her a goddess."

"OK."

"OK? That doesn't excite you at all? She's gonna sit right next to you. If I were you, I'd make a move. And quick. The boys are gonna be all over her once they get a glimpse of that scrumptious a—"

"I've already met a girl. At Chick-fil-A."

"Really, now? What does she look like?"

"She's ... well, the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. And a nerd, too."

"Huh. Why do I get the feeling you just made that up?"

"I don't like lying."

"'Cause it's a sin, right?"