Grace

2. Backpack Rescue

Jordan really hated school. He didn't have any learning disorders or anything, he just loathed having to sit still for seven hours a day while teachers tried to cram unwanted information into his head. Math gave him migraines, social studies was boring, Science was too complicated, and English he loathed. He found reading laborious and would rather do a hundred squats on the soccer field than write a paper. He was never going to need any of this stuff in life. As soon as he graduated he was going to play soccer professionally and travel around the country. School was a hindrance, not a help, to his goal.

Inevitably, this attitude resulted in poor grades, frazzled teachers, and summer school. Summer school was the only reason Jordan was a sophomore this fall. If he had not barely caught up over vacation, then he would've had to repeat ninth grade all over again. His mom might have lectured him more about his schoolwork, but she didn't seem to care about anything except her writing nowadays.

It was a very relieved boy who surged with the rest of his class out of Social Studies at the ending bell. As usual, he barely remembered a word of what the teacher had said. Something about how the Native Americans lost much of their culture when the missionaries came to convert them. He had briefly made the resolution that he would never let anyone impose their beliefs on him, thanks very much, then had let his mind wander off. He had not heard another word until the bell.

Jordan fairly flew down the two flights of stairs to the main floor and out of the building. It was a perfect Texas October day: the sky was clear, the sun was shining just enough to make things pleasantly warm, and the grass on the school grounds was still green. He filled his lungs with suburban air and turned his thoughts to the evening ahead. He would stop by his mom's house and check his email to see if there was anything from Caleb. Then he would change for soccer and get on the field.

Tossing a few friendly insults to some of his teammates, Jordan made his way over to the bike rack and unlocked his bike. He was just about to ride home when he heard a girl's voice yell "Stop it!" in a tone that made him pause and look around to see where it had come from.

It took Jordan a few moments to locate the girl through the bustling crowd. When he did, he did a double-take as he recognized her as the same one from lunch. A tall, beefy boy with a rat-like face was taunting her, dangling her backpack just out of her reach. When she tried to lunge for it, he shoved her roughly against the brick wall of the school building and ran around the corner to where the dumpsters were. The girl didn't try follow. She just stood there rubbing her shoulder where it had hit the wall.

Without thinking Jordan dropped his bike and ran to her across the school grounds. Up close he saw that she wore a tiny silver cross on a chain around her neck and a light dusting of freckles over her nose. Her face was flushed and her eyes were filled with angry tears.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked awkwardly.

She wiped her eyes and brushed a stray bit of hair out of her face. "Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks for asking." She took a shuddering breath and tried to smile at him. "When he leaves I'll go get my bag out of the trash."

Watching her, Jordan felt a surge of anger in his chest. True, he was wary of girls. True, he had no respect for Christians. But he hated to see people bullied, regardless of who they were or what they believed in. He knew all too well what it was like for life to sock you in the gut and then taunt you when you couldn't do anything about it.

He balled his fists.

"Wait here," he told the girl. Then without waiting for a reply, he took off around the side of the building, where he had seen the rat-faced kid run off with the backpack.