Bridge to Terabithia

Jess turned to Leslie in unbelief.

“It was better than a movie.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No, I’m not.” And she wasn’t. He could tell by her face. “That whole Jesus thing is really interesting, isn’t it?”

“What d’you mean?”

“All those people wanting to kill him when he hadn’t done anything to hurt them.” She hesitated. “It’s really kind of a beautiful story—like Abraham Lincoln or Socrates—or Aslan.”

“It ain’t beautiful,” May Belle broke in. “It’s scary. Nailing holes right through somebody’s hand.”

“May Belle’s right.” Jess reached down into the deepest pit of his mind. “It’s because we’re all vile sinners God made Jesus die.”

“Do you think that’s true?”

He was shocked. “It’s in the Bible, Leslie.”

She looked at him as if she were going to argue, then seemed to change her mind. “It’s crazy, isn’t it?” She shook her head. “You have to believe it, but you hate it. I don’t have to believe it, and I think it’s beautiful.” She shook her head again. “It’s crazy.”

May Belle had her eyes all squinched as though Leslie was some strange creature in a zoo. “You gotta believe the Bible, Leslie.”

“Why?” It was a genuine question. Leslie wasn’t being smarty.

“’Cause if you don’t believe the Bible”—May Belle’s eyes were huge—“God’ll damn you to hell when you die.”

“Where’d she ever hear a thing like that?” Leslie turned on Jess as though she were about to accuse him of some wrong he had committed against his sister. He felt hot and caught by her voice and words.

He dropped his gaze to the gunnysack and began to fiddle with the raveled edge.

“That’s right, ain’t it, Jess?” May Belle’s shrill voice demanded. “Don’t God damn you to hell if you don’t believe the Bible?”

Jess pushed his hair out of his face. “I reckon,” he muttered.

“I don’t believe it,” Leslie said. “I don’t even think you’ve read the Bible.”

“I read most of it.” Jess said, still fingering the sack. “S’bout the only book we got around our place.” He looked up at Leslie and half grinned.

She smiled. “OK,” she said. “But I still don’t think God goes around damning people to hell.”

They smiled at each other trying to ignore May Belle’s anxious little voice. “But Leslie,” she insisted. “What if you die? What’s going to happen to you if you die?”

NINE

The Evil Spell

On Easter Monday the rain began again in earnest. It was as though the elements were conspiring to ruin thei

r short week of freedom. Jess and Leslie sat cross-legged on the porch at the Burkes’, watching the wheels of a passing truck shoot huge sprays of muddy water to its rear.

“That ain’t no fifty-five miles per hour,” Jess muttered.

Just then something came out of the window of the cab. Leslie jumped to her feet. “Litterbug!” she screamed after the already disappearing taillights.

Jess stood up, too. “What d’ya want to do?”

“What I want to do is go to Terabithia,” she said, looking out mournfully at the pouring rain.