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    â€œYou’re new here, right?”
    â€œYeah. Just moved here last week.”
    â€œWelcome. I think I’ve heard about you.”
    â€œReally? What have you heard?”
    â€œHow has everyone been treating you?” he asks, ignoring my question.
    â€œOkay, I guess.”
    â€œGood. Good.”
    â€œHas anyone signed up for the pen pal one with people in the service?”
    â€œA few,” he says. “Is that the one you want to join?’
    â€œNo. Just wanted to see if people were doing it.”
    â€œGot family in the service?”
    â€œMy brother.”
    â€œGod bless him,” Frank says, smiling at me kind of creepily. I just nod awkwardly until he looks back at his papers and says, “What committee would you like to join?”
    â€œI really liked the idea of doing a talent show for sick kids. Did that idea get chosen?”
    â€œIt did. Meetings start in two weeks. I’ll be posting the schedule next week. These things take a lot of planning. I’m glad you’re joining in.”
    â€œWe didn’t really have stuff like this at my last school.”
    â€œNo fundraisers?” he asks.
    â€œWell, we had a few bake sales, but the money always went to the school. I like that these projects help other people.”
    â€œThat’s what we like here. Service is a big part of this school. Whether it’s worshipping the Lord or helping those in need, we’re there. You know,” he says, squinting at me intensely, “in case you were wondering, good deeds aren’t what make you glorious in God’s eyes. I mean, sure, He loves good deeds. But if it’s heaven you’re worried about, just accepting Him and worshipping Him is all He requires. Good deeds alone don’t get you into heaven.”
    â€œActually, I just really like volunteering. But thanks. That’s, uh, really interesting.”
    â€œWell, if you have any questions about school or faith or anything at all, I’d like you to know that you can come talk to me.”
    â€œSure. Thanks. Well, I should get to my next class.”
    â€œThanks for stopping by.”
    I close his door behind me and shake my head. They really like reminding people about hell around here. How could it not matter whether or not you’re a good person? What the hell does Jesus want from a kid anyway? If being nice doesn’t even win me any points in this Christian town, how am I going spend the next three years here?
    After school, Tess and I pick up her little brothers from the elementary school and walk home together. Angela stays late and plays basketball, so it’s up to Tess to walk the boys home.
    Every day, once we hit our street, I hang back while they walk to her house. Tess said, “It’s just easier if they don’t know how much we’re hanging out.”
    Today her dad drives by as we’re walking, stops the car, and says, “Kids, get in.” Without hesitation, they do.
    No, Hello, new kid. Welcome to the block. Not even a nod in my direction.
    I walk the rest of the way home alone. About two minutes after I walk in the door my cell phone rings. It’s Tess.
    â€œI’m sorry about my dad.”
    â€œYeah, well. It’s a good thing he didn’t hear me talk in science today. He might have run me down too.”
    â€œI told him you’re going to church on Sunday.”
    â€œWas he impressed?”
    â€œIt was a start . . .”
    â€œWhat do you mean by a start?”
    â€œI kind of had to tell him that I’m trying to save you. And that you’re into it.”
    â€œOkay, sure. If that gets him off your back.”
    â€œI wish it were that easy. He wants you to come to dinner on Sunday to prove your dedication.”
    â€œCrap. Seriously?”
    â€œI wouldn’t ask, but I won’t be allowed to hang out with you anymore if you don’t.”
    â€œOkay. I guess I’ll be