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movie feels toward his girl. . . like every other normal boy in the world feels, except me.At the climax of the film, the girl discovered the truth about the boy, and they had a blowout of anger. He apologized. And she decided she loved him anyway, for who he was inside, not what he was outside. Happy ending, blah, blah, blah ... The moral eluded me. My life was no silly Hollywood movie.As I drove Angie back to her house, the moon was up, and little thin clouds were whipping across it, going south. Angie leaned close to me, light-voiced, her hair fragrant.I parked the car and laid my arm across her shoulder. Angie rested her head on my chest and hummed a little bit of some hymn.Eventually, we kissed. I didn't mind kissing her; I just wished that I felt more. After several minutes I pulled away and reached for the door handle, expecting Angie to climb out too, so I could walk her up the front steps--
    always the ideal gentleman. Except tonight she remained in the car seat beside me, studying my face.I let go of the door handle. "What's the matter?" She gave her head a little shake. "You're always the first to pull away." "Huh?""When we kiss," Angie explained, "you always pull away first." A faint band of sweat beaded on my forehead. Was she suspecting something?43"Um, sorry." I put my arm around her again and resumed kissing."Okay!" Angie pulled away, giggling.

    "You're so funny sometimes."I laughed too, from anxiety. Then I walked her to the front door. On the steps we kissed again, and once more I waited for her to pull away first.She gazed into my eyes and told me, "I love you.""I love you too," I echoed, meaning it.After one last peck she said,
    "Good night," and stepped inside. But as always she waited till I'd started the car before shutting off the porch light.And I drove home, thinking about the silly movie.44

Chapter 9
    SUNDAY MORNING I WOKE UP THINKING ABOUT OUR YOUTH CHOIR
    PERFORMANCE -- FEELING MORE EXCITED AND NERVOUS THAN EVER.In our town, the church that you went to defined what group you belonged to--kind of like whom you sat with at lunch. It seemed like we had a church on almost every corner. When meeting someone for the first time, folks would ask, "Where do you worship?"The I Am The Way Church was one of our area's largest congregations, holding English and Spanish services for more than two thousand members in a building bigger than our high school.Five years ago, when I first went with my pa and Angie, I had never been to a charismatic church before. At the solemn little chapel Pa and I had attended with Ma, people knelt in silent prayer, listening to the musty organ while waiting for service to start.Here, even before the service began, churchgoers stood and prayed out loud, some at full voice, raising their hands in the air. And when Pastor Jose strode in, a full-throttle band and jubilant choir accompanied his arrival, while people swayed their bodies, clapped to the music, and practically danced in the aisles.45That Sunday, Pastor Jose had preached about how Jesus softened our hardened hearts, quoting from Matthew: '"Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me; for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.'" People started speaking in tongues, received the laying on of hands, and fell backward ("slain in the Spirit," Angie later explained), while I shifted in my seat, a little nervous.When I gazed at Pa for reassurance, I was surprised to see a river of tears streaming down his face for the first time in the weeks since Ma had died. And when Pastor Jose invited all who wanted to be made new in Christ Jesus to come forward, my pa responded.I craned my neck to watch, not wanting to let him out of my sight. When he returned from the altar, he stood straight and smiled peacefully, his eyes no longer dimmed by Ma's death but glowing with light. It was uncanny. Had Jesus truly made him new?That afternoon I