The Teacher

The Teacher: Part I Unchained, Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5

THE REST OF THE WEEK PASSED quickly. A 5-9 evening shift on Wednesday as a Starbucks barista, a gymnastics meet on Thursday right after school, then, off to cheer Lydia and Blaire on at their volleyball game that night. Home late, a few quick cold bites of leftover takeout teriyaki chicken, homework, and another long day was over as I fell asleep with my European history book open to page 227 and the clamp light over my bed still on.

On Friday everyone started those state-mandated tests. After school we met up at my locker.

"How did you do on the exams?" I asked.

"It was so hard to concentrate...I hate those tests anyway," Lydia admitted.

"The worst thing is what they do to our classes. If you get a teacher who teaches to the test, the drills can be so boring. I'm going through that in math this year," Blaire reported.

"Well, ladies, we've got more important things to worry about right now...are you both ready to head over and pick up Holden?" I asked, not without some considerable trepidation on my part.

"Can you stop at my house first, I've got to get my skis and bags," Lydia requested.

"No problem."

"I brought everything with me today, so can you just stop by my car," Blaire said.

"Sure...okay then, let's get going!"

On the way to Holden's we again agreed not to pressure him with the Billy-Graham side of the trip. Pastor Ben and the younger youth staffers were oh-so-gifted at reaching out to new kids and encouraging their participation in the social and spiritual aspects of the weekend. I knew our worship band as well as Pastor Ben would have a couple of supercharged services planned for us.

The youth ministry winter retreats always did something special for me. Getting away from all the typical distractions and everyday demands, seemed to make it possible for me to really tune in to God. Hopefully, something memorable would touch Holden's heart as well. We weren't going to stress, but rather just offer him our sincere friendship—letting Holden know we genuinely cared about what he was going through.

He was waiting outside on the porch as we pulled into his driveway. Without even a smirk, much less a smile, he shouldered his duffle bag, flung it in the Jeep, and took a seat in the back with Blaire. With his iPod blasting Three Doors Down through his earbuds, he didn't say a word on the way to the bus.

AS WE PULLED INTO THE CHURCH parking lot, it was evident that we were late. All the kids were on the bus and the chaperones were pacing waiting for us.

"Let's go you four! Hurry up! Everyone's here," the dad with the checklist said as he marked off our names.

From his front-row seat I was sure Pastor Ben would hit us with his standard line for tardiness as we boarded, and he didn't disappoint.

"One dollar charge from each of you ladies for the PB frappuccino fund!"

Of course he said it loud and proud with a sly grin and a wink so everyone on the bus got the point.

With everyone settled, Pastor Ben changed gears from ringmaster to serious pastor—a gift God seems to give to all called to minister—so he led us in prayer before we pulled out of the parking lot.

"Dear Lord, you've brought us all together to have a great time on the slopes. We're asking You to rock our socks off with an amazing retreat while getting closer to some serious powder and closer to You. As we begin our journey, please protect our bus, keep our driver alert to unexpected dangers, direct him to follow the GPS route to the nearest Starbucks on the way out of town, and get us all to the ski resort safely. This we ask in Jesus' name."