To Love What Draws Your Blood--8

She’d prepared herself. She’d prepared herself for khakis blue plaid, button-down shirts and penny loafers, a big white building, rich in combovers and pearl jewelry. She’d prepared herself regardless of the constant reassuring efforts Caleb offered on the drive.1

She’d even put on her spike bracelets along with the ever famous and slap-inducing black nail polish. Of course, her clothes were black. It was either black clothes or a church dress, ripped at the bust. Her bust had busted the dress. She’d figured she would probably have better luck getting accepted with her boobs hanging out of a dress two sizes too small than black clothes and accessories but she was testing the waters ... testing the phoniness level.2

When they arrived at the flat building with a rustic sign atop a pole, reading “Spirit Church,” Angli’s expectations did a 180, especially when she saw the people hanging outside and getting out of cars. She fought to keep her jaw from dropping in excited disbelief of what she saw the people, the church, the ... motorcycles.3

The first person she saw was a man with a chain hanging from his earring to his nose ring. He had more makeup than she did! There was a sea of gothic teenagers and adults, along with the grungy folk. She looked like a prep compared to most of them.4

“Angli,” Caleb called, trying to get her out of her trance. He snapped his fingers in front of her wandering eyes until she finally looked at him and smiled like a kid at Disney World. “Dad,” he said turning to the man in front of them, “Angli. Angli, my Dad.”5

She had to take a step back to see all of him. He was at least six-four with one gnarly goatee and had so many tattoos on his arms; you could barely see any skin that wasn’t drawn on. He smiled and stuck out his huge hand to shake. She was afraid to shake his hand for fear that it might not be returned to her with all five fingers attached and/or unharmed. He looked like a wrestler ... no ... he was a biker. She took a breath to prepare herself like a soldier heading off to war, knowing she was going to get horribly injured, and shook his hand. Surprisingly enough, she had a stronger grip than he did. She still knew he could have crushed her hand like a cookie if he’d wanted to.6

Next, she met Caleb’s mother. She was short, plump and blonde. Caleb didn’t even come close to resembling either of his parents. But before she could put more thought into it, Caleb swept her off past more goths and bikers, down one long hallway—introducing her to people so quickly she hardly got a look at their faces—stopping at a tall metal gate.7

Behind it was a bunch of couches and TVs, with Playstation consoles attached, three pinball machines and graffiti covering the wall that had once been obviously gray. Over a dozen teenagers—mostly dressed in black—were playing the games and sitting on the couches. Angli could hardly believe this was a church.8

Caleb and Angli entered through the six-foot hole cut out in the fence, lined with hard plastic to prevent injury, and squeezed into—with six other people—a rust-colored couch made to seat five.9

At the end of the couch, there was a handsome, plump boy wearing a purple jester hat and a Linkin Park t-shirt. He had that sort of funny laugh that would make you laugh. He was introduced as Brant.10

On his lap sat a girl introduced as Benny; a petite blond with dark purple and black streaks in her hair, she had two safety pins through one eyebrow, aligned side by side and three spike bracelets on each arm. She was introduced as Benny because she hated her birth name, Britney.11

Her legs were draped over another girl’s lap. She had long, curly fire-red hair, wearing a green trucker hat and braces. She was a live wire, like she was begging for Ritalin. She said her name was Libby.12

Beside her, she introduced a tall boy named Jordan, with his arm around her shoulders. He had Asian-like eyes but you could still see a sort of glimmer in them and he had the biggest smile that seemed to make them disappear.13

He had his other arm around another pair of shoulders that belonged to Benny’s sister they all called Kane. She was teeny and had spiky purple-black hair and a fake lip ring, a tight satin dress that went to her knees and combat boots.14

Atop her lap sat a pale blonde that looked anorexic. She introduced herself as Jade and quickly told Angli she ate too much to be anorexic and digested all of it, leaving out the possibility of bulimia.15

Angli decided she had now met his gang, his posse. They all seemed so laid back, so human; not like the people that went to her church, the cocky bible-thumping robots. After speaking with them for only minutes, Angli realized they were just teenagers who had faith in something more than singing hippie-Christian music, reading thirty-one chapters of the bible every day and spending six hours in prayer ... teenagers who had a relationship with their God and believed in going out there and speaking about him ... teenagers who were going to change the world.16