The 92 Foster Avenue bus pulled to the curb as the automated female voice chirped to life. “Magnolia. This is Magnolia. Next stop, Broadway. Transfer at Broadway for the Red Line.”
“That’ll be us, guys.” Kat Davies slipped her backpack over one shoulder and stood up, grabbing for the nearest pole as the bus lurched forward once more. Her companions—two other young women and one guy—also vacated their seats and made their way to the back door of the bus as it headed toward the next intersection.
“Twenty-two stops,” muttered one of the girls, bumping up behind Kat. “Can’t believe this bus stopped twenty-two times before we got to our stop. Isn’t there a faster way to get to this church you like so well?”
Kat laughed. “Can’t believe you bothered to count every single stop. It’ll be worth it, I promise.” Pixie-haired Brygitta Walczak was her roommate at Crista University. Both were graduate students, Kat completing her master’s degree in education, Brygitta in Christian ed.
At the next stop the doors wheezed open and Kat and Brygitta hustled down the steps. Behind her Kat heard the other girl ask one of the passengers, “How do we transfer to the El from here?”
“Livie! I know how to get to the El! Come on!” Kat wagged her head as the other two CCU students—Olivia Lindberg, a sociology major, and Nick Taylor, a seminary student—joined her and Brygitta on the sidewalk. It was so tempting to stick Livie into a “dumb blonde” pigeonhole sometimes, the way she kept asking obvious questions. Livie was an undergrad, three years younger than the graduate students, but the four had ended up in CCU’s Urban Experience program and developed a Four Musketeers mentality on their assigned excursions into Chicago. “All for one and one for all!” they joked, though Kat suspected it covered up some mutual insecurity as they navigated unfamiliar “urban experiences,” such as the Manna House Women’s Shelter in Uptown and what was left of the notorious Cabrini Green public housing site. Manna House had been pretty cool—but Cabrini Green . . . Kat shuddered every time she thought about it. She couldn’t imagine living there, ever. Yet at one time fifteen thousand of Chicago’s poor had been crammed into the string of crime-ridden high-rises.
But the Urban Experience advisor had also given participants a list of urban churches to visit, at least three by the end of the school year. Definitely more inspiring. Stuck at the university during spring break, Kat and Nick had visited SouledOut Community Church in Rogers Park, Chicago’s northernmost neighborhood along Lake Michigan, and they’d insisted that Brygitta and Olivia come with them for a second visit. “It’s definitely cool! Like no church you’ve ever attended before,” Kat enthused.
Her roommate had been dubious. “But are they, like, you know, evangelical?”
“They’re Christian, Brygitta. Doesn’t the name ‘SouledOut’ say anything to you? Just . . . come and see for yourself.”
“Will we be the only white people?” Olivia had wanted to know.
“I told you, Livie. It’s multicultural. Black and white, and a few other somethings too. You’ll be fine.”
At least Kat hoped Livie would be fine. The sociology major was trying hard to adjust to the big city, but it was obvious she hadn’t strayed far from her small-town Minnesota roots before. Kat had to give the girl credit for signing up for the Urban Experience program at CCU. But there were times she wanted to smack her.
Like now. They were halfway across the intersection when Kat realized Olivia was still standing back on the curb. “Livie, come on! We gotta cross here!”
“But the Wait light is blinking!”
Arrgh. Kat ran back, grabbed Olivia’s hand, and pulled her across Foster Avenue just before traffic got the green light, then flounced ahead to walk with Nick.
“Livie’s just nervous in the city,” Nick murmured in Kat’s ear. “Go easy on her . . . Hey, your hair smells nice. What is that—coconut?”
Kat gave him the eye. Nick was a tease—okay, a borderline flirt—but it was just play between friends. She hoped. Nick wanted to be a pastor, of all things. No way did she want to end up a pastor’s wife. But . . . his compliment tipped the corners of her mouth. Her dark curly hair, thick and long, was her best feature. That, and her ice-blue eyes. It was nice of His Maleness to notice.
“Hey, guys, wait a sec!” Brygitta’s voice turned them around. She and Olivia were looking up and down the street they’d just crossed. “Isn’t there a grocery store somewhere near here? I didn’t get any breakfast and I’m going to be famished if I have to wait clear till church is over.”
Kat glanced impatiently at her watch. She’d told her roomie to eat something before they left. They had a whole stash of energy bars in their room. But . . . it was only eight thirty. SouledOut’s service didn’t start until nine thirty. She looked at Nick and he shrugged. “Okay. Guess we have time. I think there’s a Dominick’s a few streets over. Saw it from the El last time. It’s only a few blocks out of our way.”
The foursome changed course and walked east on Foster Avenue. Sure enough, the big chain grocery took up an entire block along Sheridan Road. As they wandered through the produce section, Kat noticed a couple of the employees loading up boxes on a cart with lettuce, broccoli, and other vegetables—taking them out of the cases where they’d been displayed and wheeling them through a pair of swinging doors into the back rooms. Curious, Kat followed, peeking through the plastic windows in the doors and watching as the carts were wheeled through another set of doors leading outside.
Outside? What . . . ?
Goodness. The stuff was being thrown out!
Kat tugged on Nick’s jacket sleeve. “Meet me outside when you guys get done,” she hissed. “Out back.” She pointed in the direction of the swinging doors, then spun around and hurried past the checkout lanes, out the automatic doors, and scurried as fast as she could around to the back of the store.
Sure enough, the two employees were dumping the boxes, produce and all, into a Dumpster.
Kat blinked. A few minutes ago shoppers could have still bought that stuff and taken it home to eat. Now it was . . . what? Out of date? Gotten rid of to make room for fresher stuff? Doomed to go to the garbage dump?
This was outrageous! The stores ought to at least give it to a local homeless shelter or something.
Food. Nothing got Kat’s dander up like the thoughtless way people just bought “whatever” at the store, never thinking about the horrific way chickens were caged to maximize egg production, or the chemicals used to make those tomatoes red. And the waste! All that plastic packaging. And now this! Dumping good food!
As soon as the coast was clear, Kat lifted the lid of the closest Dumpster and peeked inside. At least six or seven boxes of produce were in there!
“Kat! What in the world are you doing?”
Kat jumped at the sound of Brygitta’s voice, banging her head on the Dumpster lid she was holding. Brygitta and Olivia were staring at her openmouthed, and Nick was grinning with amusement.
“Look at this!” She poked her head back into the Dumpster. “Good food. C’mon, help me get this box out of here.”
“Oh, Kat! That’s stealing!” Olivia sounded truly panicked.
“Is not. It’s been thrown away.” Kat tugged at the closest box with her free hand. “Somebody help me here.”
“What do you think you’re going to do with it?” Brygitta demanded.
“I don’t know . . . take it to the church with us. They’ll know what to do with it.”
Nick joined her at the Dumpster, lugging out the box of lettuce and broccoli. “Hold the lid open!” he called to Brygitta and Olivia. “I can reach that other one.”
Five minutes later Nick and Kat were crossing the street at a brisk pace, laughing, each carrying a box, heading for the Red Line El station one block up and one block over. “Ha!” Kat snickered, glancing over her shoulder at Olivia and Brygitta, walking ten paces behind them. “They’re pretending they don’t know us.”