Free The God Box by Alex Sanchez

gave a little smile and laughed. "I'm glad you're over your bias against him."On Saturday nights she and I continued going to dinner and the movies, and afterward parked outside her house. In the car I'd lay my arm across her shoulder and feel her warmth. A different boy might have tried to feel something else, too. I felt proud that I72didn't, and yet it also continued to worry me.One afternoon with Angie something happened which I doubt I'll ever forget: She and I were eating PBJ sandwiches and watching a movie in her family room, when something slammed into the plate-glass window.
    Bam! Loud, like a softball. "What was that}" Angie and I looked at each other.Suddenly her eyes widened in fear. "Oh, my God!" She bolted to the window, slid it open, and quickly knelt on the outside landing.I leaned over her shoulder and saw a tiny bird--a sparrow or something--
    motionless, tumbled over. "Is it still alive?"Angie scooped it into her palm, gently folding its wings, and pressed its tiny breast to her ear. Then she did something I never imagined possible: She cupped her lips over its teeny beak, breathed and paused, breathed and paused...I stared in wonder. Could she actually bring the little creature back to life?Its chest began moving. It shook its head, blinked its eyes open, and gazed at Angie.She set it down on the ground. It hopped a few steps, turned to look back up at her, and then fluttered away."Thank you, Jesus," Angie said, as the sparrow circled and flew to a birdhouse. Then she took my hand, and we returned to watching the DVD--or tried to. I felt too in awe of what she had done. My heart swelled with love for her, more than ever.When I got home that night, I prayed again: "Please, God. Please make me feel the only thing missing in my love for Angie." But when I climbed into bed and closed my eyes, it was Manuel's face I saw leaning over me, and his wavy hair.73

Chapter 16
    DURING LUNCHTIME AT SCHOOL I CONTINUED TO SIT WITH ANGIE AND DAKOTA,
    BUT ELIZABETH NEVER REJOINED OUR GROUP. WHEN I SAID HI TO HER IN THE
    HALL, SHE ARRANGED HER MOUTH CAREFULLY INTO A SMILE, BUT HER "Hi"
    SEEMED FORCED AND COLD.I wanted to talk to her about coming back to our group, but what if she confronted me about where I stood on homosexuality and Manuel? I decided, Better just leave it.In the cafeteria Manuel now sat with a hodgepodge group he'd brought together one at a time--the kids that most people in school avoided. First, there was Rufus Santana, a starry-eyed stoner who reeked of marijuana and always wore a goofy grin. He was nice enough, but severely spacey.Across from him sat Gerald Grissom, a quirky, self-proclaimed atheist Goth boy who'd worn a black trench coat every day during freshman year till he got nicknamed Columbine, provoking Mr. Arbuthnot (our principal) to institute a "no coats during school hours" policy. But even without the coat Gerald still seemed weird.Next to him sat Maggie McGhee, whose name was scrawled on boys' restroom stalls for supposedly "putting out." Gossip was74she'd already had one abortion, marking her with the equivalent of a scarlet letter--at least during school hours.Beside her sat Janice Salazar, who had definitely gotten pregnant but opted to have the baby. And yet, in spite of her decision, people now avoided her, too, as if pregnancy might be contagious. Actually, I didn't hang out with her either.And last was Stephen Marten, the boy from middle school whom other boys had beaten up and called "queer"--while I turned away.I never would have expected a group of such different personalities to sit together, but I guess it made sense: They were all outsiders, just like Manuel.Some afternoons he would invite me to hang out with him and one of them, but I always made up some excuse. He must have gotten the message, because eventually he stopped asking. Nevertheless, he still wanted to hang out with my friends.
    At his house one evening he asked, "When is your group having its next Bible study?""Um