Daniel is staring at me in gym class for some reason. He ends up being assigned my partner and is holding my feet toward the ground as he counts how many sit-ups I do.

"Something's different about you," he says as I sit up.

"What do you mean?" I ask, going back down on the blue mat and up again.

"You've changed. Since you got back two weeks ago. I can't quite put my finger on it."

"I've been going through a lot of change lately. Doing things I wouldn't normally do."

"Nah somethings up," then a Devilish grin crosses his face, "You got laid didn't you?"

I don't know what he saw in my facial expression, because he read something on my face as I sat up.

"You gotta work on that poker face dawg," he says, "But I can't believe it. My boy Judas got his V card revoked!"

"Keep your voice down!" I order him.

I look around the gym and everyone is glaring at us. Some of them start to turn and whisper to each other.

"It just sort of happened," I start, "I don't wanna talk anymore about it."

"I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner. With the way Delilah be lookin' at you and all."

"Yeah—well—that was kind of my doing. I wanted to save myself till marriage. But—I don't know—it just felt right. I didn't feel guilty or anything afterward. I felt... complete."

"Awww. Shit sounds like a cheesy romance novel."

I get up off the mat and begin to make my way to the locker room. Daniel joins my side.

"If this is a cheesy romance novel I'm loving it so far," I tell him, "I just hope my inexperience isn't something that's bothering her."

"Trust me, dude, there are girls that would kill to have a virgin like you."

"Really? Wouldn't it make sense to want someone with experience?"

"You'd be surprised. Plus you guys entered the relationship without sex being important. This is something you'll both get to work on as you grow together. It's not like you guys are just fucking to fuck. You guys really care about each other. I can see that."

"No offense, but I didn't take you for the type to be observant about relationships and sex."

"'Cause I'm a fuckboy?"

We find our lockers which are right next to each other and begin to unlock them.

"I wouldn't use that vocabulary necessarily—" I start.

He laughs, opening his locker and taking his shirt off, exposing his chiseled body.

"Nah, it's okay," he says, taking his shorts off and revealing his muscular thighs, "I literally got a body count in the double digits and everybody knows me as the handsome jock womanizer. But I want things to be different with Stacy, you know? After seeing what you and Delilah have, it's inspired me. That's why she and I have been taking things slow. Which is really weird for me but honestly, kinda refreshing. I'm getting to know her as a person before I shove my meat missile in her."

"Ugh. Don't call it that."

"What? Is skin flute better?"

"God—"

"How about heat-seeking moisture missile?"

"These are just getting worse."

"Okay, okay, okay. Big hard throbbing cock. Take it or leave it."

"That one isn't even creative it's just crude."

We laugh, putting our normal attire on. I close my locker and begin to put on my regular shoes.

"Hey man, do you think you could help me with my material for the talent show after school?" Daniel asks.

"Sure. Delilah's going to Denver to visit her brother, so my schedule is clear."

"Tight. I'll see you after school."

I pick up Daniel in my car and we head over to a local coffee shop to discuss his comedy material. We're sitting across from each other near the window, both of us grasping our ceramic coffee mugs and pondering on what we want from this show.

Daniel's composition notebook lays splayed open in front of him with a pencil in the middle of the pages.

"You know what comedians are really good at?" Daniel asks.

"What?"

"Playing a character and telling a story. Think about it. Most jokes are stories. But that doesn't mean they have to be true stories."

"So we can make up a story? Or a joke?"

"I mean—write what you know. I was thinking of having a sort of persona on stage."

"Like an alter-ego?"

"Exactly! I would be an example of what not to be. Just the hugest asshole imaginable. But you can't help but laugh at him because of how miserable he is. Someone you wouldn't be friends with but you wouldn't mind laughing at."

"Hmph. Well, what do you got so far?"

"I still need to think of a way to open the show. And since you're here I wanted to pick your brain on the religious aspect of things. I want the theme behind this act to be faith. You ever volunteer at a church?"

"Yeah. Plenty of times. I remember this one church that had a fountain with sculptures of these marble angel babies peeing."

"What is it with fountain sculptors and little boys pissing? Are they all pedophiles or something?"

I look around to make sure no one just heard that.

"'Can you make me a fountain?'" Daniel starts to play out, "'Yes! I'll get started as soon as possible! Ugggggghhhh. Uggggghhhh yes! Yeeesss! It's finished!' 

And it's just little angels pissing onto the face of a man that looks eerily similar to him. 

'Ugggh, pee on me forever!'"

"Yeah—well—um—there was one of those in the courtyard of the church. My first week there I went down to the courtyard for the first time and—I didn't look too great. And I was sitting on a bench—feeling a little out of place and I noticed there was this girl looking at me from across the courtyard. And she was all dressed well and everything. She was looking at me like—well—I could tell she was thinking I don't go to the church. She thinks I just wandered in off the street. I could tell she was thinking about coming over and saying something. So she came over and asked, 'Excuse me do you go to this church?' And I told her I volunteered here and we laughed it off and that was it."

Daniel takes a sip of his coffee, his eyes scanning the paper.

"What if you lied to her?" He asks.

"About being a volunteer?"

"Yeah. Imagine when she was looking at you just started acting more gross. Like you start pulling up your shirt and being just a rank-ass individual. Then when she comes up to you and asks that question you just say, 'No.' 'Cause why not begin there? 

Then she'd be like, 'Then what are you doing here?' 

And you say, 'I just need to relax I'm having a difficult time.' 

She says, 'This is a respectable place of God.' 

And you say, 'Well I don't really believe in that.' Just the worst thing you can say from her point of view. 

Then she goes, 'Well if you don't leave I'm gonna go talk to security.' 

Then you go, 'Can I just stay like four more hours?' Then she goes over to security and you see her talking about you to security and she's pointing her finger at you. But the security guard just goes—'Oh no, that guy volunteers here. He's fine.' Imagine the look on her face. Just a beautiful combination of confusion and anger. It's like we've invented a new way to hurt a person's feelings."

"Write this down," I tell him. He picks up his pencil and starts to write.

"By the way, my comedy doesn't bother you, does it?" He asks.

"Why would it bother me?"

"Well, I sort of dawg on religion and God a lot. And I hate to admit it but you did have a hand in that. You're not like that anymore—you've changed—you're a good dude now. But I want to make it clear that I don't just blindly hate religious people. I just don't like the bad ones. I'll admit, our country is founded on religion—and I honestly don't want to find out what happens when you replace that with something else. But I feel like more and more religious people are falling to the dark side."

"More and more people are leaving Christianity. And it's not because of Christ himself, but his followers. The way they act. Their integrity. Their beliefs. The way they treat others. Gandi once said, 'I like your Christ. I don't like your Christians.' Nobody makes more Atheists than other religious people. As a Christian, I'm supposed to be as much like Christ as feasibly possible. If people can tell you're a Christian, it's either a good thing or a bad thing depending on if you're doing it right or not."

"You're the closest person to Jesus I can imagine, Judas."

"I still sinned."

"What? Fornicating? C'mon, Judy. I'm gonna ask you a question, and you have to be one hundred percent honest with me, okay?"

"Alright."

"Do you love Delilah?"

"I do," No hesitation.

"Then what's the problem?"

"It's clearly stated in the bible that sex is exclusively for marriage. It's two flesh becoming one, united by God."

"Well, why can't that happen without a ring? I mean, what really is a wedding? A spoken oath to God and an expensive ring? If you love her and she loves you and you both express that, what's wrong with having that together?"

"But the goal of marriage is to also start a family. Have kids."

"But what if she doesn't want kids?"

The question hits me in the gut. I never asked her before. I should have instead of assuming she was on board with my plans.

"Or she could not be able to have children," Daniel continues, "Or you could be infertile. Some couples have tried for years with no luck. What about those people? Is marriage for them?"

Before I can answer, Daniel's onto the next question:

"What about gay people?" He questions, "It clearly states in your bible that marriage is between a man and a woman only. And if marriage is for the sole purpose of starting a family, then why can straight couples that can't have children get married without it being a problem? Why can't gay people share that same love with God? They can start families! There are millions of orphans—like you and Delilah—that need parents. Why can't gay people marry and start families like that? Why—"

He stops, clenching his fist and bringing it up to his mouth.

"I'm sorry," he says, "I didn't mean to go on a tangent with you."

"No. You've brought up valid points."

"It's just—my little brother—I always called him Enano—he was gay. He got bullied a lot in school because of it. So he started looking for an escape. That escape ended up being Christianity. While going to Church, he met a boy and they fell for each other hard. But the church found out and kicked him out. He killed himself shortly after."

"Daniel—I'm really sorry."

"I didn't even know he was gay. I didn't know until I read his note," A tear falls down his face and he's quick to wipe it away, "I just—I should've fucking known! If I just knew—why the fuck didn't he talk to me?"

I get up out of the chair and hug him while he's still sitting down.

"All I know is this," I say into his ear, "You can't hate love and love God. Love and God are one and the same. What those people did to you're brother—they were wrong. I'm really sorry Daniel. I'm sorry on their behalf and on behalf of everyone who claims to love God and hate love."

His arms wrap around me and they press the air out of me. Jesus is looking in on the other side of the window. His expression looks pleased.

It's been a while since I've been able to talk to Jesus. Hopefully, I can flag him down soon for a conversation.

Daniel and I pull away and he pats me on the shoulder.

"You're one of the good ones," he says.

"I'm not that great," I breathe, moving a piece of his hair away from his eye.

"Modest. Like a real man."

"A man wearing a chest binder."

"Still a man to me."

I can't help but grin and laugh a little. I just hope I'm doing enough for everyone in my circle.