(Jasper)
Mom nods at me to go. She does not try to help. I hurry to my room and curl up in the corner. I do not even know why I am getting punished this time. I did not lie. I did not sin. I only made a friend. Hudson and his parents seem like the kindest people I have ever met.
My dad does not come into my room until it is already dark. Waiting is its own kind of torture, and I think he likes it that way. He does not tell me why he is beating me with the belt. He just does it and then leaves. I cry until I fall asleep. I hate him. I hate him so much.
Sitting in church on Sunday is another punishment. The wooden pew hurts after what he did to me last night. He keeps giving me this knowing smile, like he is enjoying watching me suffer.
I spend the rest of the day grounded in my room. My stomach is growling because I have not eaten anything since my snacks with Hudson, but I do not even care. I am too hurt and sad about losing my new friend.
On Monday, as soon as Dad leaves for work, Mom comes into my room.
"May I go outside to play" I ask.
She shakes her head. "Your dad does not want you around that degenerate boy. Go finish your chores, then read a book quietly in your room."
I rush through the chores and hide in my room again. I lie on the bed and stare at the ceiling for hours. They do not even call me when they eat supper, and that is fine with me.
Around seven o'clock, the doorbell rings. No one ever visits us. I sneak down the hallway and peek into the living room. My eyes widen because Mr. Rutherford is standing on the porch with Hudson beside him.
"Mr. Matthews, I am Judge Rutherford, and this is my son, Hudson. May we come in"
Dad lets them in and puts on that fake smile he uses when he wants people to think he is a good man. "Please have a seat. This is my wife, Joy."
Once they sit, Dad asks, "So what brings you here"
"My son made friends with your son, and when he did not come out to play, he became worried. We met Isaac earlier this week and were very impressed. You have raised a polite and respectful boy. You should be proud."
For a moment, surprise crosses my dad's face. Then he smiles again, pretending everything is normal. "Yes, Isaac is a special boy. He had a stomach bug over the weekend, but he should be able to play tomorrow."
"That is wonderful. Since we are new to town, Hudson needs a friend, and he really connected with your son. We wanted to ask if Isaac could come for a sleepover tomorrow night."
"We have strict rules," Dad says. "No television or technology. No foul language. Isaac must behave according to our faith."
Judge Rutherford nods, although I can see how tense he is. "I will make sure those rules are followed. We also expect good behavior from our children. A father must be strict or the child becomes spoiled."
Hudson gives his dad a strange look, then starts scanning the room. His eyes land on me hiding in the shadows, and worry crosses his face. I pull back further, embarrassed and ashamed of how broken I must look.
"It is good to hear that," Dad says. "A man must follow Proverbs thirteen twenty four and guide his family in righteousness."
Mr. Rutherford gives a stiff nod. "Would it be alright if Hudson says hello to Isaac while we are here"
"I suppose I can allow that," Dad says. "Joy, show Hudson to Isaac's room for a brief visit."
I rush back to my room and flop onto my bed, wincing as the welts hurt whenever I press against them. The door opens, and Mom walks in with Hudson. As soon as she leaves us alone, he hurries over and sits next to me. I can't stop myself from crying into his chest.
"Are you okay, Jasper?" he asks over and over as I sob. I shake my head no, and he tightens his arms around me.
"Take a deep breath for me so you can talk," he says gently.
I try, forcing my cries under control. "I thought I had lost you," I whisper into his shirt, my voice breaking.
"Nah, I won't let that happen. I was so worried when you didn't show up all weekend. I was afraid your dad had done something to you." He leans back and tilts my chin up to look at me, a gesture I notice he's done before. "Do you really have the flu?"
"No. Dad found out I was hanging out with you."
"Did he beat you again?"
Fear keeps me from answering. I ignore the question and instead ask, "I really get to come for a sleepover tomorrow?"
His eyes narrow like he knows I'm avoiding the truth, but he doesn't push. "Yes, and we can stay up talking as late as we want."
"With food?" My stomach growls loudly, as if it can hear me asking. "Have you not eaten anything?"
I shake my head.
"For how long?"
"Not since the snacks we had," I whisper, looking down so I don't see the pity in his eyes, or I'll start crying again.
"I'll bring food for you," he promises, gently wiping my tears away with his thumbs.
His care makes my chest ache. "I don't want you to leave," I murmur.
That earns me another hug and a kiss on the forehead. "Just think, the sooner I leave and you go to sleep, the faster tomorrow will get here."
Right then Mom comes back, and I can tell she doesn't like the hug. We pull apart quickly, and Hudson gives me one last look before following her out.
I collapse back onto the bed, letting hope fill me again, and pray for tomorrow to come as quickly as possible.