Christianity. I didn't understand it then, and there are parts of it that I don't understand now.

I know why the humans cling to it. The concept of forgiveness, the idea that even after committing the most atrocious acts imaginable one can start anew is pretty attractive. The idea that life is transient, and that a glowing afterlife exists would make any life, no matter how miserable, bearable. According to Matt, in death everyone will be reunited with their loved ones in a mythical place called Heaven. In Heaven everyone is happy; there is no evil.

It's a wonderful fantasy.

Still there are things about Matt's Christianity that even now, I cannot accept. If the humans' God is god of all the universe, then why are humans the only species worth "saving"? What about the Geds or the Leerans or even the Andalites? What about the Yeerks? Matt says that being "saved" applies to everyone, regardless of what species they are. I say that if this is true, then why is Earth the only planet that knows about "God's plan"? If Matt's god really wanted all species to be "saved" then why hasn't Matt's god told the other species?

But this is an old argument between Matt and I, and it has little to do with my story.

I had now been in control of Matt's body for about a month. After the memory threatening incident, my host had finally ceased fighting me. In fact he had ceased speaking at all. I continued to go about Matt's daily life: going to the places Matt would go to, doing the things that Matt would do, speaking with the people Matt would speak to. Living Matt's life.

One of Matt's obligations included attending his twice weekly Youth Group. Youth Group, in a nutshell –as the humans say— is the authentic version of what the Sharing insinuates to be. Raised on Yeerk double agendas, it took me some time to realize that the Youth Group was sincere in its intentions; that the Youth Group's purpose really was just to help others. At the Tuesday Youth Group meetings, the human youth, led by the aging Reverend Thrower, would discuss all manner of their religion: love, compassion, forgiveness, charity. Then on the Thursday gatherings, the human youth were spurred to action. One Thursday the Youth Group served soup at the homeless shelter, another Thursday they traveled to a nearby nursing home and spent the evening interacting with the elderly, still another Thursday was spent entertaining the children in the children's wing of the town hospital.

I attended each of the meetings and all of the gatherings, and I kept waiting for the Youth Group's true motives to manifest. After all, the human youths gained nothing by "helping those in need". No personal gain. No gain for the humans as a group. So why do it?

"Come on Matt, get that hustle on, or we're going to be late!"

It was a typical Tuesday evening, and I was finishing my change-out in the baseball locker room while Matt's best friend Steve, already showered and dressed, waited impatiently on the wooden locker room bench.

Matt and Steve participated in the human sport of baseball. Matt was something called a short stop and Steve was something called a catcher.

"I'm going. I'm going. Just got to finish tying my shoes," I replied with an exaggerated sigh. "Don't get your panties in a twist, Super Steve. We'll be on time."

It was now easy for me to pretend to be Matt. When I had trespassed into Matt's mind to memory threaten him, on Yeerk instinct I had somehow absorbed most of Matt's mannerisms as well as a basic knowledge of Matt's likes and dislikes. I now knew how Matt shook hands. I knew what Matt liked on his pizza. I knew to call Matt's best friend Super Steve.

Steve was called Super Steve for a reason. An all-around exceptional human youth, Steve was on many sports teams and school clubs, and he was a very good student. Steve was in Youth Group with Matt, and as suspicious as I was of the Youth Group's motives, even I could tell at the time that Steve was genuine in what he did. Steve really did believe he could make the world a better place.

I am a poor judge of human aesthetics, but Terez once told me that girls thought that Steve was 'godawful handsome', whatever that means. Steve is taller than Matt. Steve's hair is the color yellow, and his eyes are the color green. When I first knew Steve he smiled a lot, and he laughed a lot.

It is my fault that he no longer does either.

"You know Super Steve," I finished tying the left shoe, "no one's stopping you from walking to Youth Group." In a very Matt-like gesture, I notched my head at the locker room door, indicating with Matt's blue eyes the obvious invitation.

Steve grinned good-naturedly. "Go ahead, rub it in. It's not my fault I don't turn sixteen until summer."

"It's not my fault either," I pulled on the right shoe. "And yet somehow it still falls on me to chauffer your lazy self around."

Steve laughed and raked a hand through his yellow hair. "Your burden to bear. Good thing you love me."

I snorted and rolled my eyes, a typical Matt expression. "Yeah, good thing."

"Isaah 1:18. 'Come now and let us reason together,' says the Lord, 'Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow.' " Reverend Thrower looked around the room, his aged gaze alighting on the thirty odd teenagers clustered in groups of five behind round wooden tables. "This passage is about foregiveness," the elderly priest explained. "It says that no matter how heinous a crime you commit, the Lord will forgive you, and free you from your sins. You can be made clean again.

Now, that being said I want you, at your table groups, to discuss how you can apply this passage to events in your own lives." Reverend Thrower raised gnarled hands in dismissal. "Discuss."

I found the Youth Group discussions extremely trying. The discussion topics always centered on the impractical, topics like compassion or forgiveness or sacrifice. In my lifetime I had never experienced these abstractions; I did not believe they truly existed. Seated beside my host's best friend, Steve, I tried to maintain the interest that I'm sure my host would have felt during such a discussion.

"Well let's see, forgiveness in our lives" Steve led the table. "Anyone want to go first?"

I gazed phlegmatically around the table at the other human youths, two females and a male, preparing for the long hour ahead of ongoing discussion. One of the females, shrugged in acquiescence to Steve's request.

"Last week my younger sister borrowed my favorite sweater without asking," the female began. "She spilled ketchup on it. I was really mad, but she apologized. So I let her off easy."

The others around the table nodded approvingly, and I mimicked their actions.

This seemed to encourage the other female at the table because she began her own anecdote. "The other day in English class, Mary Reed said that …"

Time seemed to pass cripplingly slow, and then it was Steve's turn to speak.

Steve smiled sheepishly and self-consciously raked a hand through his yellow hair. "I really don't have anything recent to draw upon. No one has done anything really bad to me, and I try hard not to do anything bad to anyone else," he admitted.

"Aww come on Steve," one of the girls cajoled. "That's a cop-out."

"Yeah Super Steve," I gave Matt's expected response, placing a friendly hand on Steve's shoulder. "You're Super Steve, not Saint Steve."

Steve chuckled good-naturedly, his green eyes flashing. "Yeah, yeah. But seriously, the only thing that happened this week is when Mrs. Gruyer added up my English quiz wrong. I brought it to her after class, she apologized, and I forgave her. There. Does that satisfy everyone?"

"Satisfactory, but lame," I replied, shaking Matt's head pityingly. "And actually, I was there, and it was even lamer in person."

Steve laughed. "Not that bad of an example."

"Yeah it was."

"Fine, fine." Steve conceded. "Although I still haven't heard your example, Matt. What's your exciting story about?" He pitched his voice dramatically. "Stealing? Lies? Rape?"

"Well—"

(All of the above,) came a solemn voice. My host. Matt.

I was so surprised to hear my host speaking, that for a moment I lost control, and the shock was etched onto my host's face.

"Dude, I was only kidding," Steve hastily apologized. "I know you don't do stuff like that."

I pasted a reassuring grin to my face. "Yeah, Steve no prob. I just—"

(No, I wouldn't, but the Yeerk would.) My host replied, speaking as if Steve could hear him. For a moment I wondered if Steve could. (But I forgive the Yeerk.)

It was really the last thing I had expected, and for some reason something inside me bristled with unexplained irritation. Forgive me? What did that mean? Was my host admitting defeat? Was the silence of the previous weeks an indication that I had broken his spirit?

But the human I had infested was a tenacious fighter; he would not accept the situation. Forgive me? Ha! What was the human trying to gain?

(What are you trying, human?) I leveled. (Groveling won't improve your situation.)

(I know.) The reply was icy, reminding me of a cornered Baska— subdued, but not broken. (I'm not doing this for you.)

(Why are you doing it then?)

But my host was done speaking, and the other humans at the table were waiting. I returned my attention to the Youth Group discussion.

"Sorry for the zone guys," I apologized in a flippant Matt-way. "I was just thinking about my example. So here's the deal. My best bud mooches rides off me all the time, but he's so pathetic that I can't help but forgive him for it. The end."

"Ha ha, very funny." Steve responded dryly.

"I thought so."

The rest of the Youth Group meeting progressed as normal, and I was able to play Matt's part perfectly. It wasn't until I was back at my host's residence, resting in my host's bed that night that I could think back onto what my host had said.

If my host wasn't maneuvering for his freedom, then what had the human been trying to gain? I did not understand, but at least my host was still intact. Subdued, maybe. Vanquished, never.

Why was the thought comforting?