Free Faking Faith by Josie Bloss Page A

corner where we found each other.”
    “Right,” I agreed. “It is a pretty nice corner.”
    As Abigail was uploading a goofy picture of us to the blog post, she glanced at me.
    “Faith, do you remember the first question you ever sent to me?”
    Uh oh.
    “Hmm, I don’t know,” I said. “It was such a long time ago.”
    “About the being-very-lonely thing,” she prompted. “Because you did something wrong?”
    I started playing with some paperclips on the desk, compulsively hooking them together and taking them apart. “Oh, yeah, I guess I remember that.”
    She put her hand on my hands, gently ending my fidgeting.
    “Will you tell me what that was about?” she asked. “I mean, now that we’re real-life friends.”
    Well, this was great. Time to come up with something tame and logical on the spot. I’d never really filled in this part of Faith’s back story in my mind. I’d hoped that somehow Abigail had forgotten about it. What a total mistake.
    “It’s kind of a long story,” I said, stalling for time. “And aren’t we eating dinner soon?”
    “We have a few minutes,” she said, looking at me worriedly. “But … you know, it’s perfectly okay if you don’t want to talk about it.”
    I sighed. Her being so sweet and understanding made me feel even guiltier. I’d just have to wing it.
    “Um … so, I used to have these two friends. At … church. And we were super close and did everything together for a long time … ”
    “And what happened?”
    “Well … I started hanging out with … another friend. Who they didn’t like very much. They thought my new friend wasn’t very, um, virtuous or faithful. So my old friends got really angry and yelled at me and then stopped talking to me.”
    Abigail’s mouth was hanging open.
    “They yelled at you? That’s terrible!” she said.
    And also not very fair. To my friends.
    “Well, I mean … I stopped speaking to them, too, I guess. Because I was mad at them for not trusting me. So it was sort of mutual.”
    “I see,” she said, looking confused. “But … what did you mean when you said you did something bad?”
    I shrugged awkwardly.
    “The thing is, they were totally right about the new friend and I should have listened to them,” I admitted. “The new friend was … not a kind person. At all. We aren’t talking anymore either, which is definitely a good thing.”
    “But your old friends still don’t want to be friends with you? Even after you realized you’d been wrong?”
    “No,” I said miserably. “But it’s okay. I don’t deserve it anyway.”
    “Faith!” Abigail admonished. “Of course you deserve it. Did you ask their forgiveness?”
    I shook my head, folding and refolding a paperclip, not looking at her.
    “Did … did you ask the Lord for forgiveness?” she asked softly.
    “No,” I said, suddenly feeling like I might cry.
    “ ‘If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness,’ ” she quoted. “You know, from John. God knows that we all make mistakes, and we all deserve forgiveness if we own up to our failings and always strive to be better. Right?”
    For once I felt like the flowery words actually spoke to me. Not that I was going to immediately call up my old friends and admit that I’d been wrong and they’d been right all along. But the concept of accepting that I wasn’t perfect, and then asking for forgiveness, being cleansed, and moving on—instead of stewing around and then pretending it hadn’t happened—was … something to think about.
    Though in the more immediate sense, the guilt I felt about lying to Abigail was starting to grow and fester and become a heavy anvil hanging precariously over my head. She was so good and kind and believed all this stuff with her whole heart. And I was such a dirty liar who in no way should be here polluting her.
    My mistakes were obviously not entirely in my past.
    Abigail smiled at me and