2 Chapter 3 and 4

Night had fallen, but the children weren't sleeping. Instead, they stared out into the darkness, remembering the world that no longer existed. Longing for the friends and family that occupied their richest memories. They envied the souls still wound in the fabric of Heaven, coddled within an unthinking bliss.

No one seemed to notice that the dinner bell had never rung. God told me that dinner was canceled, but never offered a reason why. He was like that, impulsive.

The children seemed fine without though. Their first day back in human bodies didn't inspire much of an appetite, so they all just stayed in the cabins and listened to the Island, talked in whispers, and wondered at which questions they weren't allowed to ask.

The campground was only lit by a light post by the basketball court, a floodlight behind the mess hall, and a lamp in God's house. Those all flicked off precisely at 9 p.m. The children lounged on their bunks as the weight of the physical plane began to settle in their minds. The silence kept them awake.

God, in an effort to ease their transition, had placed a large, silver disc of a moon high above the horizon to make the Island more like Earth, but it wasn't nearly enough.

The trees rustled as the wind swept along the cabins. The lake lapped at the shore. There was no real life to the campground though. Not like they remembered it. Without the chirps of courting crickets, the mournful howls of distant wolves, or even the ever-present white noise of human society bustling around them, the children were left with an odd sense of isolation.

Voices surfaced over the breeze and Billy looked out the window to see children from other cabins venturing out into the night. He slid off his bed, pulled on his shoes, and opened the front door.

He breathed in the damp air, then exhaled the dust from the cabin. A lazy breeze was soaked with the sharp tang of pine needles. He began walking with no particular direction or purpose. The cabins reminded him more of the Marine Corps than the Boy Scouts, except there was no structure, no urgency. That was part of what kept him awake—if there was nothing for him to wake up for, why sleep at all? Also, he suspected that familiar nightmares awaited him. They'd been dormant since he died and they were due.

Billy found Edward sitting beneath the darkened light post by the basketball goal, now reading the Bible by moonlight. Edward looked up just enough to see Billy, wave, then bury his nose back into the pages.

A few children wandered the campground while others played a lethargic game of tetherball. For a moment, Billy considered joining them but instead walked on toward the lake.

Surveying the water, Billy wondered if he would know an angel if he saw one. As his eyes followed the waves toward the shoreline, he saw a figure sitting with bare feet just out of reach of the waves.

"Evening," Billy called. The figure looked over at him. It was the thin, brown-haired girl with a beaked nose. She'd taken off her shoes and socks so she could curl her toes in the sand.

"Good evening," she replied, her voice weary and tired.

She looked back at the water. Billy considered leaving her alone, but he couldn't stand the thought of returning to the cabin.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked.

She studied him for a few moments, then gave the faintest of shrugs. It wasn't much of an invitation, but Billy had never been easily dissuaded.

"Sophia, right?"

"Yes."

"I'm Billy. Those cabins were driving me crazy; I had to get out."

She smiled again, polite and distant, then let her eyes trail out across the water. He sat down on the sand just far enough away to make sure she wouldn't be threatened. He began searching his mind for conversation-starters.

He came up empty so just continued watching the water. He strained to see all the way across the lake but could only make out the blur of trees stained by the silver of the moonlight. The breeze cooled as it passed along the water. The pine mingled with the scent of algae, that lake smell that defined a large swath of his childhood memories. Billy wanted to find a rod and reel and head to the pier, even if there were no fish to catch. Just casting, hearing the whir as the line let out, then the lure plunking into the water. He never thought when he fished. Never. It was such a luxury to not think for a while. It was why he mostly fished alone.

Billy then wondered if killing a fish would be wrong. He didn't buy the bullshit that Christians should be vegetarians, but if food is taken care of, then killing was killing. Kind of.

Billy was also anxious to find out what the angels did when they caught someone screwing up. He hoped that some other kid would be the first to get into trouble so Billy could see the severity of God's wrath. That would help him gauge the cost/benefit of bending the campground rules. If he thought it was worth the risk, maybe he'd start probing the boundaries by making a homemade fishing pole.

"I miss the animals," Sophia whispered.

Billy nodded, not sure if she wanted him to answer. He guessed probably not.

"I keep on thinking I hear bullfrogs out there," she continued, eyes fixed on the dark waters.

"Maybe you do," Billy said, looking around and then leaning toward her. "Don't tell anyone, but one of the guys in our cabin said he saw a cardinal earlier. Then that creepy kid with the notebook …"

"Bali?"

"Yeah, him. He said the cardinal was from across the lake, but not to tell anyone about it. Birds are not supposed to come over to this side."

Sophia looked over at Billy, her eyes steady and skeptical. A slight grin curled up at the side of his mouth. "Really?"

"That's what they said. Who knows, though? Kids and their imaginations."

Sophia allowed her first full grin at that and Billy winked. He decided at that moment that this girl was alright by him.

Moments passed. The tiny lake waves rose further up the shore, almost kissing Sophia's toes.

"Why wouldn't He let them over here?" Sophia asked, her voice low and conspiratorial. Not really directed at him at all.

Billy shrugged. He listened to her breathe and tried not to look over. He wondered if they were sharing some sort of moment or if they were just sitting on the same shore looking at the same lake and feeling the same sort of lost. Regardless, he was not thinking too hard about anything at all. Not about the buddies who survived the war overseas but lost war at home. Not about his ex-wife. Not about his last moments on Earth.

It was nice. Just like fishing. Maybe better.

After a few minutes, Billy thought he heard a long croak, so he leaned over close and nudged her.

"Just heard a frog," he whispered. "You want to go out looking, see if we can find one?"

Sophia took time to consider. She looked across the shoreline, then at God's cabin. She turned to study Billy's face with a side eye that made Billy feel a fun kind of nervous. Finally, she shook her head.

"Suit yourself," Billy said, but knowing that she was nibbling. He leaned back, holding himself up with his elbows. Footsteps drew his attention from the water to someone approaching from behind. Tommy passed by them on his way to the water. He was barefoot, and walked into the gentle waves until the cold water reached his knees.

"Hey, Tommy."

"Hey," Tommy replied without looking back.

Tommy leaned down and lowered his hands to the waves, letting them reach up and cover his fingers.

Billy leaned close to Sophia, almost danger close, but not quite.

"He's having trouble adjusting," Billy whispered. "Not sure what I think of him yet. Hard to trust someone that looks like that. When you're ugly like I am, you learn to work for everything you get, but pretty people tend to be pretty worthless."

Sophia laughed politely and looked away.

"So, what's that say about me?" Sophia asked.

Billy grimaced. He looked at her and she glared back at him.

"Damn it to hell. Can you hold on a sec, cause I'm just gonna go drown myself."

Sophia giggled now, girlish, suddenly not seeming so old and distant. He was real sure that this girl was alright by him.

"I heard you were a nun," Billy said. "I've never actually met a nun face to face."

Sophia arched her back and folded her arms across her chest. Her eyes fell to the sand.

"I'm not a nun anymore."

Billy could sense he was in dangerous waters. He was annoyed at himself for being so bad at this. At women. Yet, he forged on.

"Well, I guess I'm not a Marine anymore," he said, forcing a chuckle. "But it doesn't quite feel that way yet. I still feel like I've got somewhere to be, something to do, and someone to yell at me cause I'm not doing it fast enough."

Sophia nodded, but some ghost was still lurking. If they had shared a moment, that moment passed. But she didn't get up. She didn't leave. She watched Tommy a while, watched the waves a while, then glanced at Billy. She looked away before Billy could meet her eyes, but that was enough to keep him casting into the still waters.

"Hey, guys!"

Billy turned to see Jay standing near the mess hall, watching them.

"Can you come over here?" Jay asked.

"You come over here!" Billy said. "We're comfortable."

"Please!"

Billy considered ignoring him, but when Sophia began shifting to stand up, he hopped to his feet and offered her his hand. Sophia didn't take it, didn't even look at it. Billy wasn't sure if she had noticed his gesture as she pushed herself off the ground and dusted off her shorts.

"You coming, Tommy?" Billy asked.

Tommy grunted, shook the water off his hands and trudged back to the shore. Sophia paused until Billy turned back from the water. She was waiting for him. He liked that. He tried not to smile to big as they walked toward the mess hall.

Jay was watching Tommy not be in any kind of hurry. Billy never knew a man who looked like that to ever be in a rush to be anywhere. He'd only known them to wait on the world to come to them. Sometimes it did. Sometimes it didn't.

"What can we do for you?" Billy asked.

Jay was transfixed by the waves, not in admiration, but trepidation. It seemed to Billy that Jay was waiting for something frightening to leap from the water. Jay broke off his gaze and looked over to Billy and Sophia.

"We don't mind you coming out for walks at night, but you do have to get some sleep," Jay said.

Billy and Sophia nodded. Tommy had already veered back to Cabin Five. Edward stood up from where he was reading and jogged to meet Tommy. Jay turned and quickly made his way back into the camp.

"Well," Billy said, turning to Sophia, not sure if he should shake her hand or maybe try to hug. No, too soon for a hug, he decided. "Thanks for letting me sit with you."

"It was nice," Sophia said, dipping her head, concealing a smile.

"Are you going to be out here tomorrow night?"

"Not sure, maybe."

"If you are, mind if I join you?"

Sophia lifted her head and met his eyes. Her mouth twisted into that skeptical grin of hers.

"Nothing inappropriate, ma'am," Billy said, raising his hands as if he were proving he wasn't carrying a weapon.

"We'll see how I feel about you tomorrow night."

She ducked her head and walked back toward the female end of the camp. Billy grinned and turned toward Cabin Five. Ossie, Simon, and Petrov watched from the front porch. Ossie and Simon began clapping as Petrov smiled.

"Nice work, playa," Simon chirped.

Billy glanced back at Sophia. She was watching them. Billy guessed she'd heard the comment. She met Billy's eyes, then turned away.

"Damn it to hell," Billy said. He jogged back to Cabin Five.

"You've been here less than one day," Ossie called to him. "Well done, sir!"

"Shut up and get inside!" Billy growled as he reached the cabin. He grabbed Simon by the collar and shoved him through the door. Ossie dodged Billy and jumped inside, laughing. Petrov smiled and followed Ossie. Billy looked back toward Sophia, but she'd already disappeared into Cabin Eight.

"Goddammit," Billy said.

"Uh, oh," Simon sang. "Someone's got a potty mouth. Angels gonna get 'im."

Chapter 4

Edward woke the moment sunshine reached the cabin window. He nestled inside the scratchy white sheets, then opened the Bible open again, tilting his whole body around so the sunlight could illuminate the pages. He wasn't reading the book front-to-back, but skipping around, looking for clues, returning to any portions that might seem relevant. He quickly decided that "Revelations" was totally useless and the prophets of the Old Testament weren't that applicable, so he poured over the Gospels to see if any of the Messiah's parables might offer a hint.

The others slept heavily, bedsprings creaking with every movement, mouths agape and rumbling out snores.

Edward had noticed Billy's frightful sleep throughout the night. The ex-Marine would gasp, eyes shooting open. He would push up off the mattress to stare around the cabin while Edward pretended to sleep. After a few minutes, Billy would settle back into his sheets, grumble, and began snoring again.

Nightmares aside, Billy was a warrior and as long as he developed a sense of purpose, he would thrive. Edward, on the other hand was never one to simply live with confusion. And the Island was a land of confusion. He would need to read, to question, and to start assembling some sort of structure, a paradigm to shelter underneath.

So, a peaceful night of sleep would not come to Edward until he could find a way to allay his bitterness and doubt when it came to this new reality. A God in the flesh and an Island that betrayed his understanding of the Christian universe. He must find the reason, even if he did not understand or agree with it, because then he could feel safe again. There would be a plan, there would be a resolution, and Edward would again feel secure putting his fate into God's hands.

Edward closed the Bible and rubbed his eyes. He gazed out the cabin's window, studying the long, wispy clouds crawling through the sky. God was showing off.

Edward did not recognize them as God's vanity, so his mind flipped through various explanations for the clouds since there was no rain. He settled on two likely explanations:

1. They were an illusion created by God, much like the Island's rising and setting sun. God was just trying to make the Island seem more like a natural world, but the clouds had no real use. This seemed unlike God, but I had said the Island was a test run.

2. There was a new set of physical laws in place that, if studied thoroughly, would make sense just as the physical laws back on Earth were all tied neatly together so as long as you could recognize the strings. Perhaps moisture's natural cycle on the Island skipped the rain step.

Both explanations seemed equally viable, yet troubled Edward. He didn't like the idea of a new life without the pattering of rain on a roof, the thrill of lightning storms, and the smell of a morning shower. He also missed the songs of birds and insects rising after the rain. He used to walk out after rainstorms and look for earthworms trapped on the concrete. He'd cup them in his hands and walk them back to the grass. They wiggled and startled him every time. No matter how often he touched a worm, he never got used to how moist and firm they were, how alive and vulnerable they felt. The entire process was deeply satisfying to Edward, perhaps all the more for its futility.

The Island had no worms, roly-polies, ants, spiders or any other small things to protect. Or at least not on this side of the lake.

He began thinking of the cardinal again but was distracted by a shadow passing across the cabin floor. Edward sat up and looked out the window. His bed creaked, and he could hear Tommy yawn above him. A face appeared in the window, sending another shadow into the room.

Edward got out of bed. He stretched his legs and walked to the window. Boys from another cabin were migrating to the lake. Across the camp, three girls were also approaching the shore.

"What's going on?" Tommy whispered, then yawned.

"I think they're going for a swim," Edward said, watching the kids kick off their shoes and walk to the bank's edge.

"Who's swimming?" Simon asked.

"Some kids," Edward said.

"Where'd they get swimsuits?"

"Doesn't look like they have any," Edward said. "They're just swimming in their clothes."

"I wanna swim!" Ossie exclaimed, pushing himself off his bed and walking to the door.

Tommy rolled off the edge of his bed and dropped down to the ground with the grace of cat pretending not to care.

"Are you going?" Simon asked as Tommy tugged his shoes onto his bare feet.

"Yup, I'm a beach bum, so I've got to get my fix. You coming, Eddie?"

Edward didn't want to; he had too much reading to do, but he reached for his shoes anyway. Tommy walked to the door, jerked it open, and took a long, overly exaggerated breath. He slapped his chest, exhaled and strode outside. The others in the cabin were tilting their heads up and looking out the door. Petrov rolled away from the warm sunlight, scooting close to the wall.

"Hold on," Edward grunted, tying his shoes in loose knots and pushing up off the ground. "Are you coming, Simon?"

"I'll be there in a little bit," Simon said, a bit of a devil's smirk arising.

"Well, I'm going," Ossie said.

"I thought black people can't swim," Simon said. Edward froze with his hand on the door. The rest of cabin was silent.

Ossie looked back at Simon. "I promise I'll stay in the shallow end."

Billy glared at Simon. Edward grimaced then turned to catch up with Tommy.

"A joke, just a joke," Simon said, throwing up his hands innocently as Ossie shook his head and followed Edward out the door.

Tommy strode with purpose towards the lake and Edward had to jog to catch up. Shrieks and laughter drifted through the campground. The morning air was crisp. Edward trotted behind Tommy, smiling at the tickle of the morning dew collecting on his ankles.

"This is going to be really cold," Edward said.

"If you're too delicate, you can go back to the cabin."

Tommy grinned back at Edward. Edward slugged Tommy in the shoulder, then reached down to tug off his shoe, hopping on one foot towards the lake. He tossed one shoe towards the shore, then the other, and they both sprinted towards the waves. As Edward ran into the water, his foot slipped on a rock and he fell. The frigid water sent a jolt through his body and his heart sped straight into a pattering hummingbird rhythm. He found his footing and surfaced with a gasp. The others laughed as Edward rubbed the water out of his face. His heart stammered but then continued beating fast and hard as it tried to stabilize his core temperature. He was soon laughing too as he trudged his way deeper towards the other kids. The boys were splashing; the girls were screeching. A few others were diving off the pier.

Tommy lunged on top of Edward. Before Edward could react, he was underwater with a mouthful of lake. He rose and spit the water at Tommy who was swimming away.

I watched from the shore, writing down notes while Jay leaned against a building, sulking.

"Wanna go swimming?" I asked, looking up from my organizer.

Jay sneered then walked back into the campground. I chuckled and returned my attention to my notes.

Watching humans reconnect to water following their time in Heaven is fascinating. The challenge of the Island is to get the campers to stop thinking of what they've left behind in Paradise or even what came before on Earth. They often seem stuck in their memories, tangled in their scars, but the water draws them back to the present. Every time. I don't fully understand why, but the effect is the same on the Island as it was on Earth. Maybe they were supposed to stay in the water, develop gills, flippers, and shed their hair in favor of streamlined bodies. The dolphins were the lucky ones. A Christian scientist once assured me that the Garden of Eden was not in Africa, but deep in the ocean among endless stretches of vibrant coral, abundant food supplies, and the simplicity of aquatic life, but after Eve's apple, God expelled them to the shore where only torment, greed, and hunger awaited.

Even if the scientist was wrong, I did like the idea.

Tommy swam far enough away from shore that his feet no longer touched the bottom. Edward followed him wearily.

"Hey," Edward struggled to say as he kicked to keep his head above the water. Tommy lazily stroked his arms back and forth.

"You okay?" Tommy asked, watching Edward lurch his arms up and down to stay afloat.

"Yeah," Edward gasped. "I haven't … swam in a … long time."

"Okay, well, don't drown," Tommy replied, turning in the water to look out toward the far shore. "When I was a kid, I swam every day in the ocean."

"Really?" Edward grunted, then fell below the water. Tommy didn't notice, and once Edward resurfaced, he was frowned at Tommy's apathy.

As he watched Tommy tread water and raise his face to the sun, Edward wondered if Tommy was placed on the Island and paired with Edward as some sort of test, that God had brought the boy from Heaven as a temptation to overcome.

Couldn't be, Edward decided. Not here.

But the thought would not go away that easy.

"I was a great swimmer," Tommy said, laying back in the water and floating on his back. "I bet I could make it all the way across the lake."

"I don't know," Edward said between puffing breaths. "That's a … long way."

"Wanna bet me?"

"No … not really. I'd rather you stuck around for a while."

Tommy smirked, turned to Edward, and grabbed his arm to begin pulling him back to shallow water. Edward's body was buzzing in a lot of confusing ways. The chaos of adolescence but with the knowledge of a fully grown adult. Edward wasn't sure yet if it was better this way.

"Eww!" a group of girls on the shore shrieked. The wooden boards of the pier thudded as Simon ran toward the edge. He was naked, wearing only a proud smile. Girls standing in his path jumped down into the water, screaming until they submerged beneath the waves. Simon leaped off the edge of the pier, tucked into a ball and flipped wildly down into the water. His chest and stomach smacked against the water. I grimaced.

Kids laughed and clapped. Once Simon rose to the surface, he howled in pain. A group of girls near him were giggling, so Simon began swimming toward them. They shrieked and swam in different directions like a scattered school of fish. He released a monstrous growl as he cleared out a large, empty circle of water around him.

A large, shimmering object plunged into the lake behind Simon, sending water high into the air. A wave washed over Simon. He surfaced and turned toward a mass of light under the water, like a giant, glowing jellyfish skimming toward him. The water crested into waves ahead of the angel. Simon frantically swam away.

The light overtook Simon and he was pulled underwater. The angel, burst from the water with Simon in its grasp. The angel's form was still hard to discern, more a luminous, sparkling fog possessing something like wings. Simon floated within the light as it approached the shore where his clothes were piled up. The clothes floated up into the light as the angel swept Simon into the campground. The door to Cabin Five opened ahead of the light and Simon and his clothes disappeared inside.

The lake was silent. The swimmers glanced around at each other and then at me.

"Don't give it a second thought," I called to them. "Simon will be fine. Though it might be best if you come out—we'll be eating soon."

The children started trudging through the water towards the shore. They were already shivering, a few of them a pale shade of blue.

Edward swam closer to the shore, but stopped when he noticed Tommy still staring toward the other end of the lake.

"Please don't swim across the lake," Edward said, trying to keep his tone light but failing.

Tommy didn't respond at first but eventually leaned his head into the water and began a casual backstroke. Despite Tommy not expending much effort, he still beat Edward's awkward doggy paddle back to the shore.

"You'll find fresh clothes in your footlockers," I called as they passed.

Edward grabbed his shoes but didn't put them on as he walked over to me.

"Is Simon going to be okay?" he asked.

"What can they do to him?" I replied, patting him on his wet shoulder. "Send him back to Heaven?"

Edward smiled and nodded.

"You going to write down that he got in trouble?"

"Of course. Streaking deserves at least a footnote, don't you think?"

******

"There's your powdered eggs, Ossie," Tommy said as they watched the steam rise from the unnaturally smooth scrambled eggs piled on his tray.

Ossie jabbed his fork at the rubbery beige globs. "They look like gelatinous bile. Or maybe someone microwaved a Stretch Armstrong toy."

Tommy looked at the female camper serving behind the sneeze guard. She was pale and soft-faced with short, brown curls named Martha. A little too scowly, as Simon said the day before.

"How are you doing this morning, you fine young thing?"

Tommy punctuated with a wink that annoyed Edward.

"What else do you want?" Martha said.

"Just a smile."

"The only person who deserves my smile is God who sent His only son to die for our sins."

"Can I just have some bacon, then?"

She used tongs to pick up a piece of bacon that was as flat and round as a large coin. She tossed it onto Tommy's tray and it spun briefly before rocking around like a quarter.

"You know," Ossie said, "you could hold onto that bacon and we can play shuffleboard with it later."

"Or use it for currency if we ever go to a Pre-hispanic South American nation," Edward added.

Ossie and Tommy laughed, which made Edward smile. He was never good with jokes and savored the victory.

"Who cooked this?" Tommy asked.

"Doesn't matter, just eat it," Martha said, then motioned with her tongs for him to move down the aisle.

"Thank ya, ma'am."

Martha nodded and looked to the next in line.

Tommy grabbed a biscuit and made his way through the tables, following the others. Chattering voices filled the mess hall. Some campers ate ravenously; some couldn't stomach the smell of the food and just nibbled on biscuits. None of it tasted quite like the food they remembered, but it wasn't far off from what they'd eaten on Earth. It had all the nutrients it was supposed to but just didn't come from the same sources. God chose not to let any of the children know the true source of their meals, which I suppose was for the best.

Tommy slid down next to Edward, who kept the Bible in his lap. Across the table, Billy was chomping away at an egg, bacon and gravy sandwich.

"How can you eat that?" Tommy asked.

"You spend any time in the Marines," Billy mumbled through a mouthful of slimy eggs, "and you can eat damn near anything. Just put it between two pieces of bread and you're good to go."

Tommy chuckled, picked up his fork, and began cutting the eggs into pieces. The front entrance of the mess hall swung open and Simon leaped in like a superhero. The mess hall settled as the campers watched Simon stand proudly. He glanced back out the door, kicked it closed, and raised a hand in triumph.

Some of the children, mostly boys, cheered and Simon soaked in the adulation. He took a grand bow, which inspired laughter.

"I guess Bali was right," Ossie said. "What are they going to do to us?"

"I wouldn't test them too much," Billy said, then downed his glass of milk in one gulp. He wiped his mouth and grabbed his empty tray. "We're meant to be stupid kids, so as long as we only do stupid kid crap, they probably won't do anything."

"Makes sense," Tommy said, still stabbing his fork into his eggs. He watched Billy stand and walk away, then leaned toward Edward.

"Now it's just a matter of figuring out what exactly we can get away with," Tommy whispered.

Edward inhaled sharply and he felt his face glow. Biscuit crumbles tumbled down his windpipe and he began coughing and hacking violently. He took a drink and choked it all down.

"Not going to throw up are you?" Tommy said.

Edward shook his head, then swallowed hard as Simon approached the table. Simon paused as he saw the only available seat next to Ossie.

"Hey," Simon said. "Sorry about the whole swimming remark earlier."

"Don't apologize. Makes it hard for me to feel superior to you."

Ossie motioned for Simon to sit down.

"I'm fully aware that I am the black guy," Ossie said. "Let's not spend any more time pointing it out than necessary, okay?"

"But that's weird right?" Simon asked. "All these kids but only one black guy. Kinda makes you wonder if God's a casual racist. Like an old TV executive who is not at all comfortable with the rising popularity of the Jackson Five or by how attracted he is to his Asian secretary."

"Simon!" Edward said.

"Or maybe he is a Thomas Jefferson kinda racist," Ossie said. "Loves the idea of liberty almost as much as having human livestock he can stick his penis inside."

"Shhh!" Edward hissed, then looked around for any sign of authority.

"Oh shush yourself, mister," Simon said, his voice a mocking mother's.

Ossie smiled and winked. "Yeah, relax Edward, I only said 'penis'. That's kosher with even the staunchest censor boards."

"That Raul kid is Latino," Edward said. "And there is that kid over there that might be some kind of—something."

"Some kind of something?" Ossie asked.

"I, just," Edward tried, but failed.

"Oh, stop being a God apologist, Eddie," Tommy said. "You won. You got into Heaven. You aren't obligated to kiss His butt any longer."

Edward couldn't stop the smile from rising above the shock and humiliation. Edward just shook his head and ate his biscuit so words would stop coming out of his mouth.

"What'd they do to you?" Tommy asked Simon.

Simon glanced around the mess hall and then leaned over to Tommy.

"Not much, just got lectured by the Big Man," Simon said, then sighed. "That little punk Jay was there too, I think he liked watching me get bitched out."

"So, God lectured you?" Edward asked. "Was it weird?"

Simon shrugged. "Yeah, but oh, well." He leaned back from them and picked up his circular bacon. He dipped it into a pool of syrup and crunched into it.

"Is that good?" Edward asked.

"Who the hell cares?" Simon said as he chewed.

Edward and Tommy glanced at each other. They dipped their bacon into Simon's pool of syrup and chomped into the dry and sugary concoction.

Edward grunted with mild surprise. "Not bad."

"So, what's on the schedule for today?" Simon asked.

Edward drank the rest of his milk to force the last of the bacon down. "Arts and crafts, I think."

Simon chuckled and shook his head. "I hope it's not something lame like making macaroni pictures or beading necklaces."

******

God was scribbling on a clipboard as the children sat outside at long picnic tables wedged between the mess hall and the volleyball courts. God wore orange flip-flops over calf-high black dress socks. His pale blue polo shirt stretched over His gut and hung halfway over His bright pink swim trunks. His eyes were hidden behind silver reflective glasses.

The children had gathered in the center of the campground next to the volleyball pits while some campers passed out the arts and crafts supplies. The children had sat down with their cabinmates, and Edward's group glared at the thin, sickly boy who placed a bowl of dry macaroni in front of them.

"Unbelievable," Simon said.

Ossie's high-pitched, ridiculing laugh sailed through the camp. Edward elbowed him to stay quiet. Ossie calmed down but kept smiling.

"Sorry, Dad," Ossie said to Edward.

Edward smiled a little.

Petrov took a handful of macaroni and piled them beside his piece of brown construction paper and a bottle of glue. He scratched his face as he stared down at the paper. The others dipped their hands in the bowl and grabbed handfuls of pasta.

"Okay, I'm going to say it and I don't care what any of you think," Ossie said, scooping up his own macaroni and glue. "I love macaroni art. It's just so deliciously awful."

"This is so gay," Simon whispered, but Edward kicked him under the table.

God stood up and handed his clipboard to Jay.

"Art is the human skill that is most like my own," God said. "I want you to do something to celebrate Me and the world I created for you."

"With macaroni?" The voice was from a female camper, but Edward didn't see who specifically asked it and couldn't tell if she was serious.

God scanned the table, also not sure who'd said it. "Yes. Why not?" He adjusted his glasses, then God leaned toward me. "Write that down. That bit about art being like Me."

I nodded. I opened my organizer and pretended to write but instead just drew wavy lines. Recording God's talking points was not the purpose of my organizer.

God motioned for the children to start on their projects, then he pulled out a cloth handkerchief. He held it over His nose and honked loudly. The children's eyes widened as they held their heads down and tried not to laugh. God honked two more times, sucked the remaining snot down His throat, and put the handkerchief back into His pocket. From the same pocket, He pulled out a whistle and hung it around His neck.

"Let's set up the volleyball nets," God told Jay.

"Oh … my … God!" Tommy mouthed to Ossie, who exclaimed "I KNOW!"

Edward hushed them both.

"Sorry, Dad," Ossie said.

God walked to the volleyball net, grabbed it off the ground, not noticing His foot was on it. It snagged around His ankle. He then began hopping on one foot while Jay tried to pull it off God, who then fell over on Jay. Ossie's eyes were red and watery; his face was purple brown and he hiccuped another laugh. The other campers burst out, and soon their whole table was laughing.

I turned my back to God so I could write in my organizer.

"Need any help there, Champ?" Tommy called.

"No!" Jay shouted, struggling to untangle God's foot from the net. "Get to work!"

The kids ducked their heads, trying to stifle their snickering. Edward noticed that Petrov wasn't smiling. He was staring down at the paper, his face stern and confused.

"Hey," Edward whispered. "Are you alright?"

Petrov didn't answer.

"Billy," Simon said. "Check it out."

Simon lifted his paper, showing a naked woman made out of macaroni with circles of white glue for the breasts. Billy chuckled but cut his laugh short as a light dropped from the sky, plummeted toward the Island, sped through the campground. The children jumped away from the table as it came to an abrupt stop behind Simon.

Simon turned to look just as the angel lifted him into the air.

"Oh, come on!" Simon growled as he floated up above the table. "It's Eve in the Garden of Eden! It's biblical!"

God finally kicked free from the net, then walked over to the table and picked up Simon's picture. He shook His head and tore up the paper. "Do you think this is why I brought you here?"

"No, sir."

"This is the second time today that I have had to deal with you."

Jay dropped the volleyball net and ran over to God.

"Sir," Jay called, keeping his eyes lowered to the ground.

"Not now!" God snapped. God floated off the ground, raising above the heads of the campers as he glided closer to Simon. "What do I need to do to get through to you, child?"

"I'm sorry, sir," Simon gasped, trying to jerk free.

Simon rose almost as high as the roof of the mess hall. God followed him, stopping only an inch from Simon's nose. God removed his glasses and narrowed his empty eyes on Simon. Simon's eyes widened and he struggled with the angel to free himself.

"Sir!" Jay called again.

God didn't look away from Simon. "Are you mocking Me?"

"No."

Simon felt the temperature drop to freezing. None of the other children could feel the cold air, but they saw Simon's breath forming white plumes and his skin paling. Simon's lips turned blue as he began to shiver.

"I'm … sorry," Simon struggled.

"Sir!" Jay shouted.

God looked down to Jay, frowned, then floated away from Simon and lowered back to the ground. Simon's skin warmed and he stopped shivering.

"Take him to his cabin," God said, looking at Jay, and then to me. "He will sit out the rest of arts and crafts."

"Hrrmmph!" the angel bellowed and then swept Simon away towards the cabin.

"Make sure you spell my name right, Bali!" Simon yelled.

God turned to Simon, then looked over at me. I lowered my eyes and closed my organizer. The others hunched down over their papers. Ossie held his hands over his and glanced over to Edward. Ossie raised his hand just enough to reveal he had made a naked man with his macaroni. Ossie hid the paper under the table.

God's scowl lifted to a smile, as if the event had never happened. He walked to Petrov and leaned over the boy's shoulder. Petrov shrunk away slightly as his fingers were sliding nervously through the pile of macaroni. His construction paper was still blank.

"Nothing yet?" God asked warmly while patting the boy on the shoulder. "I expect great things from you. You were always one of my favorite artists, Petrov."

Petrov nodded without raising his head from his paper. God couldn't see that Petrov was crying.

"Well, I'll let you get back to it," God called to us all. "Remember, do your best. It took me six of the hardest days of My Existence to create your world for you. Here is your chance to repay Me."

God looked over at me, and motioned for me to write down what He had just said. I nodded and opened my notebook. God turned to return to the volleyball net and I closed my organizer without writing.

Ossie crinkled up his picture and threw it under the table.

*******

Simon returned just in time for volleyball. The teams were divided up by cabins, except with male and female cabins combined. God sat on a raised umpire chair, his face hidden behind the reflective glasses and the whistle hanging loosely from his lips.

He was officiating all three courts simultaneously, but wasn't particularly effective. I suspected He might be napping.

There were seven players on each side, with the others rotating in. Edward's cabin was down two players—Simon, who wasn't allowed to play the first game as punishment, and Petrov, who was still sitting at the arts and crafts table. His paper was still blank.

Edward wished he could switch places with Petrov so he could read instead. Sports were never one of Edward's strengths.

Tommy and Billy were the only players on the team with athletic ability. The first time that Tommy dove head first to save the ball and emerged with a face full of sand, Billy helped him up and said "There may be hope for you yet." Ossie was normally a passably decent volleyball player, but kept getting distracted by God's black socks.

Edward heard a thump without seeing the ball. He turned towards the net just as a white blur consumed his vision.

"Whap!" Then a fountain of stars.

Edward heard the laughter before his vision returned. Finally, a white pool of light grew as he blinked to clear his watering eyes. Tommy and Billy were looking down at him. Edward realized he was laying in the sand. His nose was aching and he tasted salty blood in his mouth.

"You're not supposed to hit it with your face, son," Billy said, holding his hand out to Edward. Edward took it and was yanked up onto his feet. The kids clapped and Edward raised one hand while the other pinched his nose to keep the blood from dripping.

"Leave the court until the bleeding stops," Jay said.

God didn't ever look down from the umpire chair.

Edward stumbled off the court and towards the arts and crafts table. As he approached, he saw that Petrov was still crying. He turned toward the others, seeing that they had restarted the game with Simon in his place.

"Are you okay?" Edward asked Petrov as he sat down. Petrov didn't look up. "Why don't you take a break and play volleyball."

"I don't know how to play," Petrov said, his Russian accent strong.

"Well, you couldn't do any worse than me."

Petrov glanced up at Edward, whose face was splattered with blood and sand. "Does it hurt?"

"Not as much as I thought it would. Not like it would on Earth. The pain went away pretty quick."

Petrov nodded and lowered his eyes back to his paper.

"You can't worry too much about that," Edward said. "If you can't think of anything, it's not the end of the world."

"No! You heard God, this is why I am here. He only asks one thing from me—to create."

"You can't create with macaroni shells. No one can. Well, aside from Simon and Ossie. Be patient and He'll let you work with paint or something."

"Do you know this for a fact?" Petrov asked. "How do I know I will ever see a paintbrush again, or clay, or a canvas? This could be it for me, these macaroni shells."

Edward shrugged, then looked back at the volleyball court. His team was cheering for something; Simon was dancing around with his elbows cocked behind him like a rooster. God whistled repeatedly until Simon stopped. The entire court grew quiet until God blew the whistle and motioned for the teams to continue the game.

"What if I can't think of anything to create?" Petrov asked. "That is all I am—an artist. If I can't do that, then there is nothing else for me."

"You're in a new place," Edward whispered. "You're not used to it, but once you normalize, it'll get better. I knew this guy who was a musician and went into seminary. The first few months, he couldn't get interested in music because he was so consumed with trying to get used to his new life and being away from home. After a while, he got used to it and began playing again."

"What did he play?" Petrov asked.

"Clarinet."

Petrov grunted and slid all the macaroni onto the construction paper. He took the glue and squeezed a long stream down onto the pile.

"There," Petrov sighed. "I'll call it Creation of the Universe. I hope He likes it."