In Book 1 of the new series by writer Mack Ames, follow along as primary character Jack Bannister wrestles with issues of life, loss, trust, and faith.
From losing his trust in God when his mom dies in an accident, to witnessing the effects of abuse in the lives of friends, Jack is challenged over and over with life’s greatest mystery: Trust in God or reject faith forever.
Will Jack Bannister stay lost, or will he find the Way?
1: Jack Bannister
I missed my old house. I liked living in the city. Everything a kid could want to do was close by. I could ride my bike to school, to the park, to the store, or to a stream for fishing. We were in the state’s biggest city; people knew it when I said where we lived. My dad had a good job, and I could get anything I wanted, pretty much. Life was good there, until it wasn’t.
My dad Joe had to change jobs for some reason. I don’t know why. He remarried after…well, he remarried, and things weren’t the same anymore. He and I didn’t get along as well as we had before. We didn’t go camping like we used to. I was really on my own a lot. Not latchkey alone, just no one to entertain me or play with or hang out with. Dad didn’t like the kids I started hanging out with at that point, and the decision was made to move.
And boy, oh, boy, did we ever move! We went from the state’s biggest city to some podunk country town on the other side of the state. Nothing close by. Anyplace worth going to can only be reached by car. Dad says it’s ‘good for me’ to live in the country, like he did growing up. Plus, his wife got a job at a Christian school, and part of her contract requires me to attend there. They think that’ll be good for me, too. I can’t stand the idea, but there’s no getting out of it.
This is a lame, lonely place to be. We had been here for less than a week, and I was struggling to find any good reason for staying in this godawful house, and I finally gave up. I wandered outside to go exploring and headed into the trees out back to get away from people; I had no desire to see anybody.
In a few minutes I found myself on winding paths under the trees. It was curious that so many of them had no branches within three feet of the ground, but I didn’t think about it for long. It was too much fun to pretend they were tunnels created somehow just for me. Dad wouldn’t be able to find me out here, and neither would that wretched woman he’d married so soon after Mom–
The distraction of tree tunnels wasn’t enough to keep me from tumbling into a heap under a giant pine and breaking down in tears. Why? O, God, why? Thoughts failed as I sobbed and tried to catch my breath. After several minutes, my heaving chest slowed, and I was calm once again. I tried to do as Mom had taught me when I was little. Dear God, she loved you, and she said you loved her, and you love me, so why, God? Why did you let her die? I don’t get it. She told me you’re always there, and that you never leave me, and that you always listen, b-b-but, God? W-where w-were you when that drunk driver k-k-killed my Mom? Huh?
As I tried to pray, I just got angry. God wasn’t there! If he was, then he sure didn’t care, and I was done with him. You know what, God? I’m not so sure Mom was right about you. In fact, I think you fooled her into thinking you were good, which is really sad, ‘cuz she’s gone now, and she was the only person that ever cared about me, and it’s all YOUR FAULT! I HATE YOU!
I didn’t feel any better after shouting at God in my “prayer,” but I’d finally acknowledged my true feelings. I wasn’t sure how to tell Dad, though. He’s not the kind of man to take disrespect toward God lightly. I shrugged my shoulders. I’ll let him deal with it. I don’t care anymore. I got up and continued exploring the woods. It wasn’t really a forest, but it was cool for what it was.
The deeper I went, though, the more the roots became tangled above ground, messing up my footing. I looked for paths to follow, spotting one that ran to the left. I took that one for a few minutes, and it led me to a small clearing. I was surprised to see that some trees had been cleared there, and a makeshift fort had been assembled. It was clearly the work of other kids, because it was such poor workmanship, but hey, if it means there are other kids my age around here that did this, maybe I can join them and improve it. Just then, I heard voices behind me.
“Hey, kid! Who are you? What’re you doing in our fort?” Two boys, about my height and age approached me threateningly.
“I-I’m Jack.” Startled, I stammered at first, but then asserted myself. “This is your fort? You sure your sisters didn’t build this?” Then I laughed. “Who are you, anyway?”
The two boys looked at each other and back at me. The first one spoke again. “I’m Blake Harris, and that’s Vince Jackson, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll clear off.”
“Make me.” I wanted to make friends, but I didn’t like their attitude.
With that, Blake nodded at Vince, who charged at me. I sidestepped Vince, tripping and shoving him as he went by. When Blake saw that, he took a swing at me, but I blocked it and threw a counterpunch, nailing Blake in the stomach. He doubled over, gasping for air. Vince got up and ran at me again. This time, I met him with my fists up, and in moments, Blake’s friend was also on the ground, gasping from a blow to his face.
I was ready for more but didn’t need trouble when it was 2 against 1. However, it was put up or shut up time for these jerks. “Well? You gonna make me leave, or can I stay?”
“All right. All right,” panted Blake. “You can stay.” He and Vince sat down on one of the logs. “Where did you learn to fight like that, Jack?”
I shrugged. I didn’t feel like being buddy-buddy with these guys just yet, so I changed the subject. “So, you guys obviously live around here. Whereabouts?”
The boys told me which houses were theirs and then one of them said, “So you just moved into that house that was for sale? Where did you live before?”
“Yeah. Portland.”
“Oh, why’d you move here? What grade are you in?”
“Uh, family reasons. Going into sixth. What about you guys?”
“Same. We’re going to be classmates, huh? That’s cool. We’ve already gotten our fighting out of the way, so we might as well hang out, right?” Blake and Vince laughed. “That’s how we became friends.” They gestured toward each other. “First time we met, we had a knockdown, drag-out, and next thing you know, we’re best buds.”
“Yeah, I could use some friends,” I muttered, “but I don’t think we’ll be in school together.”
“Why not?”
“My stepmom is a teacher at a religious school, and I have to go there. Her contract says so.”
“Oh, brother, that’s rich.”
“You’re telling me. I don’t even want to go there.” I kicked at the dirt. “It’s gonna be so lame!”
We talked a little longer and then I went back to the house, where I got to thinking about Blake and Vince. I was glad enough to have made friends out of the neighborhood kids my age. It made life a little easier to cope, but I was dreading the start of school in a few weeks, even though the Dragon kept saying I’d like it there. “You’ll make friends there, too,” she said. “Good ones. They’ll be positive influences on you,” as if to say Blake and Vince weren’t good enough for her. Dad was gone to work by the time I woke up each morning, so I only saw him at supper most of the time, when he was too tired to say much. Besides, he took the Dragon’s side most of the time, so I didn’t listen to him, either.
A couple of days after I met Blake and Vince, I was out in my yard trying to fix a flat tire on my bicycle when they rode in on theirs. “Hey, Jack, what’s up?” Vince asked.
“Flat tire. Not sure how. Stuck here till I can fix it.”
“Lemme see that,” Blake said. “Your dad been putting new shingles on the garage or something?”
“Yeah, why?” I replied.
“You’ve got a nail in your tire, dumbo,” Blake laughed. He pointed to it. “That’s easy enough to fix if you have a patch kit. Do you?” When I shook my head no, Blake continued, ” Well, I’ve got one. I’ll be right back. While I’m gone, why don’t you and Vince pick up all the other nails you can find so we don’t all get nails in our tires? I don’t have that many patch kits, dumbo.” He laughed again as he rode off.
I don’t know why he called me ‘dumbo,’ and I hope he doesn’t keep doing that, ’cause I’m not dumb, but I shrugged it off and started looking for other nails with Vince. I found one. “Got one,” I said to Vince.
“Got three!” said Vince. “Nyah, nyah, nyah, nyah, nyah.” He laughed. “I’m winning!”
“Oh, no you don’t. I’ve got two more; we’re tied! No, here’s another one. Got four!” I squealed.
“All right, girls, enough!” Blake interrupted our game. “Geez, your dad sure got careless with the nails, Jacko. He’s lucky he doesn’t have one in his car tire. Let’s get your bike fixed, and then make sure there aren’t any more nails around. What a pain in the a–I mean, neck.”
I clenched my fists and stared at Blake. “Whaddyamean, girls?”
“Oh, quit your bellyaching, Jack. I ride away for five minutes and come back to you two squealing like a couple of girls, that’s all. It was just a joke. Jeezum, what are you, three years old? Don’t be such a baby!”
My face reddened. “Sorry,” I mumbled.
“Aw, forget it,” Blake said. “Come on, Vinnie, help me fix this tire.”
When the tire was fixed, Vince turned to Blake and said, “We’ve still got time today, should we show him?” Blake nodded, so Vince said, “Say, Jack, have you been to Whitman’s yet?”
“Whitman’s? What’s that? I’ve been stuck here since we moved, except for going to church with dad and the dragon–I mean–my stepmom.”
“It’s a general store a little bit of ride from here, Jacko,” Blake said. “They’ve got all kinds of stuff there–candy, soda, baseball cards, potato chips, beef jerky, that sorta thing. Think you’re up for it?”
“I can do it!” I said, hoping I didn’t sound too whiny. “I just gotta tell my stepmom where I’m going to be. I’ll be right out.”
“Try to get some money from her while you’re at it, Jacko,” called Blake as the other boy ran into the house.
When Jack was gone, Blake turned to Vince. “Are you thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?”
Vince looked at his friend. “You mean, if he doesn’t bring any money we’ll see if he’ll still get something from the store? Yeah, of course! But if he brings coin, we’d better be careful with him; he goes to church, you know. He might be a goody two-shoes.”
A couple of minutes later, I was back and ready to go. “She gave me a couple of quarters. It ain’t much, but she said she’s been to that store already and they’ve got some stuff that’s cheap. Let’s get going.”
We got on our bikes and began riding toward the store, which was two miles away. We immediately hopped off to push our bikes up the one hill that we’d face going to the store; it wasn’t a long hill, but it ran down to just before my driveway, and there was no way to get a running start. When we got to the top, we resumed riding and enjoyed coasting for the next half-mile. It was nothing but farmland on either side of the road, with little traffic to disrupt our ride.
Halfway to the store, we crossed the town line. Blake explained that kids from this other town attended our town’s high school, but that the two towns had their own elementary and junior high schools. We rode for about 20 minutes, and then I saw a four-way stop just ahead. On the right was an old, clapboard-sided building with a sign above the door that read, “Whitman’s Corner Store.” The other boys gestured to a grassy bank on the left where we tossed our bikes before crossing the road to enter the store. A bell jingled as we walked in, and a man in his mid-forties called out, “Welcome to Whitman’s. How can I help you?”
“We’re just here to buy some candy and stuff and show a new kid the place,” Blake said.
“All right. Holler if you need anything.” The man went back to whatever it was he was doing. I couldn’t tell. I was fascinated by everything in the store. There were tools hanging on the first wall I saw, and small engine parts in boxes and displays there, too. On another wall there was a display case of refrigerated meats, cheeses, butter, and ice cream, and on a third wall were bread, crackers, peanut butter, jams and jellies, dog and cat food, and all kinds of other dry goods. In the middle of the store there were short racks of candy, baked goods, peanuts, popcorn, baseball cards, gum, nails, screws, pens, pencils, notebooks, and so many other odds and ends I couldn’t keep track of it all. I wondered if Mr. Whitman could, either, or if that was even the guy’s name.
“So, whaddya think, Jack?” Vince asked. “You like the corner store?”
“Yeah, this is cool! I’m going to check out what I can get. Are you guys getting anything?”
Vince nodded. “We never come here without getting at least one or two things. Why ride all this way for nothing?”
I looked around the store. The array of candy was impressive, and it was so cheap, too. Penny candy, five-cent candy; if I counted right, I could really take a lot home. But I also wanted some baseball cards, and some bubble gum, and those were more expensive. Fifty cents wouldn’t get me baseball cards; I needed a dollar for that. I sighed. Well, I could get a pack of gum for 35 cents and then spend the rest on penny or 5-cent candy. The baseball cards would have to wait. I made my selections and went to the cash register.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” the man asked.
I nodded. “Kind of. I mean, I found everything all right; I just didn’t have enough for the baseball cards. I’ll have to bring more money next time.” I paid for the gum and candy and left the store. Moments later, the other boys joined me.
As we got on their bikes to leave, another boy about our age arrived at the intersection from a different direction. Blake shouted at him, “Hey! You, fat boy! This is our store! Get outta here!”
The other boy looked startled and scared. He turned his bicycle around and rode back in the direction he came from. “That’s right, little four-eyed boy,” hollered Blake, “and don’t let me catch you here again or there’ll be hell to pay!” As the stranger rode away, Blake and Vince cracked up laughing. “D-did you see his face?” Blake sputtered. “Oh, my God, I-I thought he was going to pee his pants! What a riot!”
“I think he might’ve done just that, Blake!” Vince replied, roaring with laughter. “Isn’t that a puddle on the road over there?”
I just looked at them, puzzled. The other boy hadn’t said anything or done anything wrong, as far as I could tell, but my new friends had made it clear that Whitman’s was their territory. I shrugged. It had nothing to do with me, so I got onto my bike and began riding for home.
The easy ride to Whitman’s meant a harder ride home. The long coasting ride there became a forever incline on the return. Blake and Vince had been riding this route a lot longer than I had, so their legs were used to it, but I found it exhausting. Still, I didn’t want them to think I was a wimp, so I stood up to pedal and kept going, even after my legs screamed “no more.” It took almost 40 minutes to get home, and I realized I was going to have make that ride a lot to shorten it. I had to be as tough as the other two, or I’d end up like the kid they’d bullied at Whitman’s.
When we finally got home, we went to the fort to hang out. Blake turned to me and said, “What did you get at Whitman’s?”
I showed him. “I wanted to get baseball cards, too, but I didn’t have enough, so I just got gum and some penny candy. I’ll get baseball cards another time. What did you get?”
Blake said, “Well, I just got a pack of gum. I think Vinnie got more than I did this time. Vinnie?”
The third boy smiled. “Funny about those baseball cards, Jack. I heard you talking about them, so I checked ’em out for you. How’s this?” With that, Vince pulled two packs of cards out of his pocket and tossed them to me. “They’re all yours, bud.”
“I can’t take these, Vince! I can’t pay you back!” I protested.
“No payback needed, Jack.” Vinnie said. “Just enjoy ’em.”
“Gee, thanks, Vince.” The smile on my face kept growing. “Man, I’ve been dying to get some good cards all summer.”
“Well, open them up and let’s see who you got, Jacko,” said Blake. “You got any Red Sox in there?”
And that’s the end of Chapter 1! To read more of this book, visit amazon.com:
Mack Ames Books and Maine Moose Patrol 