Clubhouse Magazine

I’m in a bunker by myself on my birthday. Mom sent this tape recorder from California so I’m trying it out. Of course I wouldn’t be alone if my older brother, Lucas, wasn’t on his dumb band tour with his dumb tuba. And I’d at least be eating cake now if Dad didn’t have to take care of hostel guests.

“You’ll love Fort Prescott!” That’s what Dad said when we moved up to Washington to live with him.

It’s not bad. We live near the ocean and go hiking and clamming. I like showing the guests around.

Lucas and I play hide-and-seek in these bunkers. People might think it’s weird for your brother to be your best friend, but he is. At least he was, until he discovered that dumb tuba. I’m cold. I’m going to walk the beach.

I think these will be my secret tapes. I like that. Hey look, a starfish with one, two, three, four . . . 12 arms on my 12th birthday! You want to go back in the water, Little Brother? That’s what Mom would call you. But it’s not like you’re my real brother.

Lucas hasn’t called. It figures. He’s in California, and he’s probably visiting Mom every day and marching around in the sunshine with his dumb tuba.

My last birthday was absolutely the best—even though we were away from Mom. Lucas took me on the ferry at night, and we went to this fancy restaurant in Port Angeles. We ate spaghetti and talked a lot. But this year he didn’t even send a card.

Mom called last night and said she’d seen Lucas march in some parade. She said happy birthday, too. I know lots of parents are divorced, but I think it really stinks.

I’m up in the lighthouse. It looks stormy. I probably shouldn’t stay long. I met the guest family. They have a son Lucas’ age—Graham. He’s home-schooled, has long hair, wears a hat with stuffed Viking horns and listens to a CD player. He’s strange enough that Lucas would like him, but Lucas is on his band trip with his dumb tuba. And he still hasn’t called. Too bad for Lucas.

The sky was dark and the wind blew hard today. Dad threw me a slicker and took me to watch the waves. We stood by the beach wall as they jumped higher and higher. I felt like I would blow away, but Dad held me. The sea is stronger than anything I’ve ever seen.

Graham sat on the beach today, reading. I could tell it was him by the Viking hat. I asked what he was reading, and he said, “Galatians.”

Maybe I shouldn’t have said it that way. I always figured the Bible was about as exciting as a big, fat book of school rules.

But Graham said: “Nobody makes me, Cassie. I like it.” Then he closed it and asked me about the beach animals.

I showed him tube worms and three kinds of jellyfish. He didn’t treat me like a little kid, the way Lucas’ band friends do.

Today I showed Graham the bunkers and cannons. I told him about Lucas getting chosen for the band tour and he said, “Cool.”

I told him how Lucas doesn’t have time for me, and Graham just nodded. I don’t know why I told him all that, but he’s a good listener. I used to tell Lucas stuff like that.

Graham left today, and he did a really weird thing. He gave me his Bible. I told him not to, because it was his and he liked it. But he said: “I can get another one. Don’t worry about it. Just take it.”

Then he got in the car with his mom and dad, stuck his headphones into his ears and drove away. Like I said, he was weird.

Lucas is back, but he’s too busy to talk to me. He didn’t even ask about my birthday. Dad’s getting ready for guests, and Mom wasn’t home when I called. I wish I had friends at school, but I don’t. I don’t make friends fast like Lucas. I guess I haven’t got anybody but me.

I ran out of tape so I am using one of Lucas’ tuba practice tapes. He’s got a ton, and this one is old. I’ve been reading Graham’s Bible. It’s all marked up with highlighter pen, and he wrote in the margins. It’s cool. I didn’t think it would make me feel the way a poem does.

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made. In him was life, and that life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it.”

I’m in the lighthouse again. I just read this story about Jesus. He’s in a storm, and he’s asleep in a boat. His friends wake him up, and he just looks at the waves and says: “Peace. Be still.” And the storm stops!

Mom always said we belong to the Earth. But it’s like Jesus didn’t belong to the Earth—the Earth belonged to Him.

I couldn’t explain that to Dad, though. Or Mom. Or Lucas. Lucas would think I was crazy.

Lucas found my Bible because I accidentally left it out. He looked at me really funny and said, “What are you doing with a Bible?”

From now on, these tapes are absolutely top secret. That’s why I’m under the dock reading with a flashlight. There are so many stars tonight. Listen to this:

“He was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him. He came to that which was his own, but his own did not receive him. Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God.”

The world was made through him—through Jesus? Is that why he could command the storm? How come I want to cry? I don’t understand what’s happening to me. What if Lucas thinks it’s funny?

That “children of God” part keeps going over and over in my brain. Is there a God out there? Jesus, can you hear me?

Everything is different. I go to school, I walk the beach, and I feel like I’m glowing in the dark. In the Bible there’s this Nick something-or-other. He asks Jesus all these questions and Jesus says, “You must be born again.” I think that’s what’s happening to me. I feel different.

Lucas was talking about his band director during dinner. He said, “Mr. Higgins is kind of a Bible Thumper.”

Dad said, “Well, he can believe whatever crazy thing he wants as long as he keeps it to himself.”

I have a stomachache. I always used to laugh, too. But now I think I’m a Bible Thumper.

I’m in the bunker. I keep thinking about Lucas and Dad laughing at Mr. Higgins. Since it’s Leap Day, I took a leap of faith and prayed to ask Jesus into my heart.

Lucas can’t find out I’m a Christian. He’ll never want to be around me again. Tomorrow I’m going to make a pile of spaghetti out of these tapes. I can’t stop glowing in the dark, but nobody has to know.

Cassie, this is me, Lucas. Don’t destroy the tapes. I know they’re private, and I shouldn’t have listened. I’m sorry. I’m sorry about a lot of things. I blew it on your birthday. I’ve been with my friends and pretty much ignored you.

What I’m most sorry about is a secret I’ve been keeping. And by covering it up, I’ve hurt the most important person of all.

I know Jesus, Cassie. I’ve known Him since last summer. Mr. Higgins told me about Him. That “born again” thing? It happened to me. Even Mr. Higgins doesn’t know. I’ve been walking around for eight months with a Bible hidden in my tuba case. You’re the first person I’ve told.

I don’t know why Dad feels the way he does, Cass, but he needs us to pray for him. I was wrong to pretend I didn’t believe. Mom needs our prayers, too. We’ll have to stick together and just love them, even when we don’t understand them.

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