Chapter 8: Faith

"Faith is the substance of what is hoped for and the evidence for what you cannot see."

It was Saturday and Moze was at school. This wasn't a nightmare, or a cruel and unusual punishment. She was working at a fund raiser. Mr. Chopsaw had been asking for replacements for defective tools in the wood shop since the Nixon administration. He had finally decided to pony up the dough himself rather than try and get water from a dry well.

To that end, his students had been working for months to make woodcarvings and other products to be sold at this fund raiser. Tables were set up all over the gym displaying the premier woodwork of James K. Polk. Moze had personally made a rocking chair, two secretaries, and a spice rack.

In addition to donating pieces, she'd donated her time. She'd been there since eight in the morning and spent the next eight hours manning the cash box. Her duties were taking payment for goods, providing change, and keeping a record of how much was made and who bought what.

At present, she was adding up the profits from the day. Then she squared it. Then she divided by 1,234. Then she converted it to binary. These numbers weren't important, she was just trying to keep her mind off of something else. However, no matter how much she multiplied, subtracted, extrapolated or derived, her thoughts would wander from the logical comfort of math and settle on the pernicious confusion of Ned Bigby.

Last week, over a plate of fantastic curry balls, she had kissed him. To make matters more awkward, she had immediately ran out of his house and hid in her room. They hadn't discussed it since then. Since then, they hadn't talked much. They spent the classes they had together focused on their work. At lunch, they sat on opposite ends of the table while Cookie talked to fill the silence. When they were at home, they didn't visit each other. They had lived right next to each other their entire lives and now they were avoiding each other at all costs. She had heard from Ned's mother that he wasn't cooking at home anymore.

Moze realized this was ridiculous. They were best friends. They could work through this. They'd been through everything together, including Cheese Pants and Tiger attacks. One of them just had to confront the other and say: I just want to be friends. In spite of knowing this in her brain she wasn't entirely convinced she just wanted to be friends. Maybe Ned would say it first and she wouldn't have to bother hashing that out. So, she was resolved: He makes the first move.

Oh, God, what if he doesn't want to be friends?

"Jennifer." Mr. Chopsaw said. Moze's head jerked out of that horrifying thought.

"Yes, sir?" she asked.

"It's four o'clock. We're going to tear down." he said.

She saw behind him that students were moving away what few items remained unsold and folding up tables.

"What's the final tally?" he asked her.

Moze looked down to consult her ledger.

"We've made $1,523.00 in sales and someone turned in a nickel they found on the floor." she answered.

"Every nickel counts." said Mr. Chopsaw, smiling broadly. He took a key ring out of his pocket and handed it to her.

"I need to stay here and supervise. Can you put the cash box in the office for me?" he asked.

"Sure." she said taking the keys and picking the cash box up.

"Just put in in the bottom drawer of the filing cabinet closest to Crubbs office." he told her.

She took the box to the office as instructed. She unlocked the office door and found the filing cabinet. She unlocked the bottom drawer and put the cash box inside on top of two other boxes already in there. Locking everything back up, she went back to help in the gym.

Ned was sitting at his desk in Room #102 when Moze walked in on Monday morning. She gave him a quick good morning and sat next to him. She immediately buried herself in her algebra text book. Ned knew she just wanted to avoid talking to him. The rigid way she was sitting and the way her eyes kept flitting over to him were signs that she her mind was on something else. The fact that she was holding her text book upside down was another clue.

He didn't know what was going on, but he had the faint inkling it was his fault. It seemed perfectly straightforward to him. He was glad she was back, from the dead no less, so he had kissed her. That was to be expected. The feeling of relief carried on through the day so whenever he looked at her he felt a pervasive sense of joy. That was logical. He'd body blocked a tiger because the idea of her dying, again, was onerous. That was totally normal. Finally, when she'd kissed him that night he had felt a more static than ten million lighting storms. That was...he didn't know what that was.

At some point, he knew one of them would have to confront the other and say: I just want to be friends. He would have to be the one to do this since she looked about as eager to talk to him as skate on thin ice. It was strange. She never backed down from anything, but, just like when the rumor that he liked her made its rounds, she had avoided bringing it up until he cornered her. Her irrational fear aside, this had gone on long enough. Today, he would tell her they could stay friends and they could go back to how things were.

He turned to talk to her just as the thought 'Oh, God. What if she doesn't want to be friends?' crossed his mind, stopping him dead.

"Good morning, class." Ms. Frizzle said from the front of the room.

"Good morning, Ms. Frizzle." the class answered back.

"Today, we're going to talk about Faith." she said. "Everyone has faith, whether they know it or not. You all practice your faith on a daily basis. You all walk on the sidewalk because you believe that the cars on the street won't swerve to hit you. You have no proof that they won't. They very easily could. But you have faith that they will abide by basic traffic laws and the philosophy of non maleficence."

She started walking up and down the rows of desks as she continued.

"Day to day life depends on the faith we have in each other. People put their money in banks only because they have faith that the teller isn't going to take the money and run. Faith in more vague concepts are also important. You come to school everyday and do your best because you believe in the future you will get a job, be financially independent, and useful to the community. Most importantly," she passed between Ned and Moze's desks, slowing down deliberately, "you believe the people you love, love you in return. Without this, life is a very terrible place. Without the strength faith gives us we could not function, not as individuals and not as a species. Faith is what gets us out of bed in the morning to keep fighting the good fight. Faith is the substance of things hoped for and the evidence for things not seen."

The classroom phone rang.

"The true test of Faith," she said without moving, "is holding onto it when all the evidence says to give it up."

The phone kept ringing, but she seemed transfixed on a point on the back wall.

"Jennifer," she said finally, "you are to report to Vice Principal Crubbs."

Moze peaked inside the Administration Office. If it turned out Ms. Frizzle was right about them wanting her, then she going to have to seriously reconsider her general disbelief in psychic powers.

"Oh, there you are, Jennifer." said Ms. Cope from behind her desk. "How did Ms. Frizzle know...I mean, she didn't answer her phone..."

"It's best not to question these things." said Moze. "Crubbs wants me?" she asked.

"Oh, yes." said Ms. Cope, her tone becoming serious. "Go right in."

Moze walked past her through the open doors of the Vice Principal's office.

"Good morning, Jennifer." he greeted as she walked in. "Do you recall what you did with the money from the wood shop fund raiser this weekend past?"

"I put the cash box in the filing cabinet." she said as she turned and pointed to the drawer.

"I was afraid of that." he said, looking down. "The money is missing."

"Eh?" she asked, despite having herd him clearly.

"I was supposed to deposit it this morning, but the cash box was gone." he expatiated. "Neither Ms. Cope nor Mr. Chopsaw have it either. This is clearly a case of theft." he put his hands in his pockets and shifted his weight uncomfortable. "Unfortunately, there are protocols we have to follow. Suspects must be compiled and the police will have to be informed."

"Um, why is that unfortunate?" she asked. It seemed well organized to her. She wanted that money going into the wood shop, and some one was in desperate need of a punishment.

"Because," said Crubbs. "You were the last person who had access to the cash box and one of only four people who knew it where it even was. As it stands, you are the prime suspect."

Keeping something a secret is the best way to make sure it gets spread around. Moze's meeting with Vice Principal Crubbs was confidential, so by third period everyone knew she was a dirty, filthy thief.

Another thing that spreads easily is hatred. Hate is infectious, and the more people who have it, is the faster it spreads.

Dozens of students from every grade in the school had contributed to the fund raiser. Countless man hours had been spent making the items that were sold. They had all shouldered the burden together believing that they were working towards a better wood shop that everyone could benefit from. Jennifer Mosely, in her greed and selfishness, had snatched that away from them at the finish line. Their resentment festered and grew. Their friends that didn't take wood shop became bitter on their behalf. The hate was spreading.

Moze had her head inside her locker. She wasn't looking for anything, she was just hiding from a thousand angry stares.

"They don't all hate you." said the recycling can in the corner. "They're just a little mad that they've had a set back. You're just a convenient outlet for their disappointment. This will all blow over soon."

"Thank you, Cookie." she said. "And thank you for having enough confidence in my innocence that you'd speak to me in public without a disguise." she added, laying on the sarcasm.

"Just because you're having a bad day," defended Cookie from the recycling can, "doesn't mean I have to commit social suicide."

As Moze reached around inside her locker for something offensive to throw in the traitorous recycling bin, her phone went off. When she checked it, it was a text message from Faymen.

Faymen: Can't believe what everyone is saying. Hope you're doing all right.

Well, that was nice of him. Not as nice as coming to support her in person, but she was in no position to complain.

"Moze." said Ned. He had walked up to her but was keeping a good distance away. "I know you would never steal anything." he said, at an unnecessarily loud volume. "You're a better person than that, you're more involved in the wood shop than anyone else, and anyone who thinks you'd do that is a gormless idiot!"

His voice carried down the hall and literally everyone stopped to stare at him. Quite a few people glared. He did not flinch. Eventually, the hallway contraflow started again and the students hurried on to their next class. Moze gave Ned a smile. In spite of all the awkwardness, he was always there for her.

"Thanks, Ned." she said.

"Are you doing alright?" he asked, now at normal volume.

"Not really, but I guess it'll all blow over soon." she said. "What's the worst that could happen?"

"Theft exceeding a hundred dollars is charged as a felony." said the recycling can. "The offense is punishable by a minimum of a year in jail."

"Nothing you don't deserve." someone said from behind Ned. More specifically, above Ned.

Moze recognized him. His name was Chad Rolle. He was a seventh grader in wood shop. He had given a coffee table with spectacular buttress work. Ned, who hadn't met him before, was wondering who had taught a rhinoceros to walk and dressed it in Abercrombie and Fitch.

"Everyone knows you took the money, Mosely." Chad said in condemnation.

"Hey!" said Ned, getting in his face. At least, as close as he could get without a stepladder. "Back off!"

They glared at each other. It looked like a David and Goliath redux. Facing down a tiger had redefined his concept of fear, but the fact was he didn't even have any pebbles to throw.

The bell rang. Chad turned away and lumbered off to class.

Later that day, Cookie was maneuvering down the halls. He had to avoid the high traffic areas. He'd been careful to avoid being seen talking to Moze, but some people still considered him retroactively guilty by association.

His current round about route took him past the Administration Office. As he passed the door, he saw Crubbs inside talking to two uniformed police officers.

Oh, this was bad...

"Oh, this is bad!" Moze cried.

"Where did you even find a vending machine disguise?" Ned asked Cookie.

"eBay." the vending machine answered.

They were outside the cafeteria. A vending machine was sitting innocuously against the far wall, all though no one could remember it being there a hour ago.

"This can't be happening." Moze said. She was starting to loose her grip and was pacing back and forth. "I'm going to get arrested. And sentenced to life. And die in a prison riot. And -"

"Moze!" Ned grabbed her before she could pace any farther off the deep end. "You didn't do anything! You aren't getting arrested!"

"Technically," said the vending machine, "she could still be arrested, she just couldn't be indited."

Ned turned and gave the machine a good kick. A can dropped down and it gave a groan.

"Ned is right." Moze said, mostly to herself. "I'll just explain everything. They'll see I had nothing to do with -"

A large dark mass went splat against the back of her head. The shock rendered he speechless, and she could do no more than stand there with her mouth hanging open. Went to look at the back of her head to see what it was. Someone had thrown a lump of gristle at the back of her head, probably scraped out of one of the stoves in the kitchen.

Ned looked down the hall and saw Chad with a smug look on his face. The bell rang and lunch let out. As the wave of students swept Chad away, he didn't see Ned charging at him and a vending machine holding him back.

Ms. Singer was in her classroom, getting all the items ready for the sewing club fund raiser. Taking a leaf from Mr. Chopsaw's book she and her students had made some outfits and accessories to sell. She had just finished folding all the scarves and was holding up a particularly stunning gown to appreciate it. Jerry Crony did good work. The things he could do with tafeta were nothing short of miraculous.

She lowered the gown and Ms. Frizzle appeared form behind it.

"Whoa!" she cried. "I didn't hear you come in."

"I did knock." Ms. Frizzle lied. "Do you have everything in hand for the fund raiser?"

"I think so, yes." said Ms. Singer, looking around her room. "All the items to sell have been up here all week. I brought some display racks from home. I got the cash box from the office this morning. We should be able to hold the fund raiser tonight as planned."

"Good, good." said Ms. Frizzle. She reached over to and picked a scarf of the table. "My this is stunning. How much do you want for it?" she asked.

"Oh, well, I'm not ready set up to sell anything yet." Ms. Singer floundered.

"You must seize every opportunity." said Ms. Frizzle. "I think twenty is fair."

"Oh, well, sure." Ms. Singer agreed.

"Can you break a fifty?" Ms. Frizzle asked, handing her a bill.

"Um, I'll check." said Ms. Singer. She went around behind her desk and pulled a cash box out of one of the drawers. She opened the box to look for a few tens then fainted dead away when she saw what was in the box.

Moze walked out of the locker room, her hair still damp. Coach Dirga had let her use the showers to get the gristle out of her hair. Most of it was gone, but the smell of charred animal fat still lingered.

She just needed to hold on long enough to get home, climb into bed, and never get up again. She didn't think she could manage one more thing happening today. She felt like she was walking a precipice where one fickle wind could send her crashing down.

She had made it halfway across the gym when she heard him.

"Hey, Mosely!" it was Chad. "You think you're getting off that easily?" he came toward her. She turned to run away. She made it to the door when she heard him roar with pain behind her. Curious as to what could make a juggernaut feel pain, she turned back to see what happened. Her jaw hit the floor at what she saw.

Ned had managed to vault on top of Chad and had a death grip on his head. Chad was clawing at Ned's arms trying to get him off.

It was hardly a fair fight. Chad was bigger than Ned, stronger, more durable, but Chad wasn't anywhere near as pissed off as Ned was.

Later, Moze was seated in the Administration Office. She was keeping a blank expression on her face, and staring straight ahead. Ned sat on the other end of the bench, holding a cold compress to his black eye and a paper towel to his busted lip. Despite how bad Ned was, he was more worried about Moze. The calm, collected look was a sure sign that the damn was about to burst. Vice Principal Crubbs came striding out of his office. He gave them both a hard look.

"You two want to explain why Chad Rolle is unconscious in the nurses office?" he asked.

Moze took a deep breath, opened her mouth to begin, and burst out in tears. As she buried her face in her hands, Ned abandoned his ice pack and bandage and slid across the bench. He pulled her face into his chest and held her while she let it all out.

Crubbs continued in spite of this outburst.

"Look, Mosely. You aren't making a very good case for yourself." he said. "You're under suspicion of grand theft and getting involved in fights on the same day isn't going to help -"

"Stop!" yelled Ms. Singer, as she ran into the office, cash box in hand. "I stole the money!"

Hearing that, Moze shoved Ned off of her and lunged at Ms. Singers throat.

"YOU MALICIOUS WITCH!" she screamed as Crubbs held her back. She was very determined to replace her old felony with a new one.

"Let me explain!" said Ms. Singer as she hid behind Ms. Frizzle, who had just walked in. "I came down here this morning to get a cash box for our fund raiser. I picked up the one with the money in it by accident. I'm so sorry!"

"Well, no lasting harm was done." said Ms. Frizzle. "We have the money back, everything was cleared up, and we can go back to business as usual. Right, Jennifer?"

"I'M GONNA RIP YOUR SPINE OUT THROUGH YOUR MOUTH!" Moze shouted.

"Let's go see the nurse about a sedative, why don't we?" said Ms. Frizzle and she hefted Moze over her shoulder and walked out.

Moze was flopped down on Ned's couch. By the time they got home, she was dead on her feet and couldn't find her keys. Ned let her stay there until her mother came home or if she ever found the strength to move. The day had been physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausting. She didn't think moving would be a good idea for the rest of this week.

She felt some approach and opened her eyes. Ned was standing there, holding a plate of Angel Food Cake with strawberries.

"I thought you could use a pick-me-up." he said, setting the dish down on the coffee table.

Her craving for sugar overpowered her exhaustion and she sat up and inhaled the dessert.

"Thank you." she said.

"It's nothing." said Ned "I hadn't made anything in a while and I wanted to -"

"No." interrupted Moze. "I mean, thank you, for everything."

Ned sat down next to her.

"If it was me being harassed like that," he said, "you would have stood by me. And beaten up more people."

Moze gave a small laugh. Ned reached out to her and held her in a hug. The two leaned back into the sofa and Moze made herself comfortable on Ned's chest.

"Moze?" he asked.

"Yeah?" she said.

"Can we be friends again?" he asked.

She knew there were some things she hadn't figured out yet. On the other hand, those could wait 'till tomorrow. She could put them off for whole weeks if she wanted. Ned wasn't going anywhere.

"Sure." she said, and they both fell asleep on the couch.