The Pebble Package
Originally published in Edify Fiction.
It was December 8th. I had been enrolled at Asbury Christian Academy for 3 weeks. My dad had gotten a last-minute job offer to teach computer science there and surprise, surprise – I got “blessed” with free tuition.
“Dad, why do I have to go to that dumb school?” I had asked him. “Do I look like the type who sings hymns and wears plaid skirts? I mean, we’re not even Christian.”
“Because they have a great technology and communications program and other educational perks for children of employees,” he replied. “You know, Dara, someone has to pay for your college one day, and that person is me. Besides, it will do you good to interact with friends who believe differently than you.”
I had trudged through weeks of classes, but I still didn’t have any friends. I mean, people were nice and all, and my roommate was the quiet type, so we got along fine. It did leave me with plenty of time after class to work on my novel about Harvey, the crime-fighting worm (yes, really), but it was a drag not to connect with anyone. And I didn’t understand their Jesus stuff. Like, not even a little bit.
The worst was convocation. Once a week, we met in the basketball gym for a sermon and “praise singing.” Praise singing was a big deal at Asbury. Most people would not only sing but also raise their hands and faces towards the sky like they were waiting for God to give them a hug or something. I definitely didn’t get it.
As I packed up my laptop after English Comp, I noticed a small envelope of folded tissue paper sitting in my bag. It was tied with a curled ribbon. What in the world is that? I wondered.
I opened the package and saw a handful of small, amber-colored pebbles. The pebble-things reminded me of gravel. I took a small sniff. They smelled pretty good, kind of like pine tree mixed with lemon. Suddenly, I froze. Wait! What if these things are drugs? I quickly searched my brain, frantically trying to remember if my dad had ever told me anything bad about amber pebble-things. Nothing came to mind, so I relaxed. No one’s trying to give you drugs at this school, I told myself, these Christian kids are way too sweet for that. Remember the girl in Chemistry who actually cried for you when you told her you lost your goldfish to an accidental flush last year?
I retrieved a piece of paper I saw at the bottom of the pile.
A GIFT FOR YOU, I read. WE’RE WATCHING YOU!
Watching me? I thought. How boring for them. “Hope you like watching someone make hilarious comments about old movies, ‘cause that’s what I’m doing tonight,” I said aloud. Was this some kind of weird way to say hi? I mean, the note did say the pebble-things were a gift. But what were they? And who were they from? I stuffed everything in my bag and left.
The next day, I watched to see if anyone snuck anything into my backpack, but no one did. Same with Wednesday. By Thursday, I had practically forgotten the whole thing, until I saw another identically-wrapped package in my bag after Comp.
My classmates filed out after class. “Who keeps doing this?” I said angrily. Bekah, the girl who sat behind me, flinched as I yelled and threw the package on the table. “Sorry, Bekah,” I gulped, “that wasn’t meant for you.” She shook her head slowly at me as she slid past.
I opened the package. This time, I was greeted by darker pebble-things that smelled like licorice. Once again, a note was attached. ANOTHER GIFT FOR YOU! COME FIND US!
I crumpled up the note and tossed it aside. “Yes, as I matter of fact, I will come and find you,” I exclaimed. “I’d like to know who keeps sending me chicken feed!”
Determined to track down whoever was responsible, I rushed out of the classroom. I nearly knocked Bekah down. She was standing right outside.
“Dara, please wait,” Bekah said. “I heard what you said in there. Look, I owe you an apology.”
“Do you?” I replied.
“Yes,” she began. “I’m the one who’s been sneaking those gifts into your bag. I’m a member of Asbury’s creative writing club, the Skillful Scribes. We’ve been trying to figure out a cool way to get you to check us out. I’m sorry that we made you mad.”
“How did you know I liked to write?”
“Hannah told us. She said the only thing you like better than old movies is writing,” Bekah said.
I had to give my roommate credit. She was paying attention.
“Well, I’m not mad anymore, I guess,” I told Bekah, “but why not just come and talk to me in person? Why send me a bunch of driveway pebbles?”
“Sorry,” Bekah apologized, “I guess we’re not as creative as we think we are. Right now, we’re working on a project where we have to describe Jesus’ birth story through the eyes of the manger animals. We sent you frankincense and myrrh. It’s what the wise men brought baby Jesus as gifts.”
“Ok, I get it now. But wait. Didn’t they also bring Jesus gold? You could have given me that, too, you know.” We both laughed.
“So…would you like to come to our next meeting? We’d really like to read some of your stuff.”
I thought about what Bekah and other Christians believed about Christmas and decided that it was ok to check it out; to maybe get to know them better, even if I believed differently. Maybe I could learn what all the fuss was about with Jesus. I began to think about all the animals that might have been in the barn that night – sheep, donkeys, maybe even a crime-fighting worm?
Inspired, I packed up my gear and walked back to the dorms with Bekah.
