Ticket To Heaven

Tan Rak let out a long, heavy sigh. His eyes gazed blankly out the window situated high above the building's structure. A torrential downpour lashed against the glass from outside, like a storm of sin screaming to challenge the purity within.

The high school boy shifted uncomfortably; the fierce storm felt heavier than ever. He feared that the images of the saints on the stained glass would be shattered by the calamity.

"Hey!"

Someone among the group of novices shouted loudly at the same moment a thunderclap roared and the electricity in the entire cathedral flickered out.

The surroundings weren't completely dark, as the faint moonlight still filtered through the wide glass panels along the side of the church. Tan Rak was so startled he nearly cried out, but he managed to compose himself. His eyes, beginning to adjust to the new dimness, looked around to regain his senses.

He and his friends were preparing the venue for an upcoming ordination ceremony, but everything seemed to have come to a sudden halt.

"Are you okay, Ming?" Tan Rak whispered to his close friend.

"It's just a power outage, what would be wrong with me?" Khongdet replied jokingly.

"Hey, I saw you sitting there stiff as a board. You're still holding that candle," Tan Rak argued back.

"Get it together, friend, get it together," the other laughed.

Tan Rak shrugged, not wanting to drag out the conversation. Khongdet made a sound as if he were about to say something more, but before he could finish the sentence, the cathedral doors swung wide open.

Light from outside where the power apparently hadn't failed shone in, bright and dazzling, like a path to heaven. The boy squinted for a moment, unable to adjust his eyes.

At first, he saw the silhouette of Father Arnon, a familiar figure in white robes, before his eyes widened as he spotted another person standing blocking the light behind him.

Who...?

The question surfaced in Tan Rak's mind. The newcomer was a young man whose age seemed close to his own. He had wavy, jet-black hair and round eyes framed by thick, well-shaped eyebrows. His nose was prominent above thin, slender lips.

His face was sharp with a slightly wide jawline, and his shoulders were broad. His shadow cast against the light made the scene look more like a dream than reality.

For a split second during a flash of lightning, Tan Rak felt as if those eyes were staring coldly at him, but he wasn't sure if it was just his imagination in the heat of the moment.

"Hey!"

Before he could say anything, a loud crash vibrated through the floor, startling the group of students. Someone shouted, and they all looked at the same direction to find a large wooden cross, several meters high, prepared for the ceremony, had fallen to the floor.

The novices rushed to help lift it back up with frantic concern; it wasn't a good omen to see the Son of God face-down on the floor, even if it was just a statue.

Tan Rak was the first to reach it and quickly inspected it.

"There are no cracks," he said.

"Let Father have a look."

Father Arnon spoke,his voice unable to his concern as he rushed over. This remaining boys helped push the cross back into standing position; perhaps it had fallen because the ropes securing it to the pillar weren't tied well enough.

Tan rak stepped aside slightly to make room for the parish priest.

"There really are no marks," Father Arnon murmured. "In a moment, help me tie the ropes tighter than before. We might need to tie it at three separate points just to be safe."

As the elder gave his instructions, the other novices dispersed to their tasks with practiced ease. In truth, this cross wasn't heavy at all, as it was a processional cross used for important ceremonies. Tan Rak volunteered to steady the pillar while the others went to find more rope.

"I'll help."

A calm voice spoke up, slightly raspy but immediately composed. Tan Rak turned and found himself face-to-face with the newcomer, who was still backlit by the glaring lights from the hallway. He didn't look away for even a second. The eyes of the person in front of him seemed filled with a sense of refusal.

He just didn't know what he was refusing yet. A faint scent of sweat wafted over as the two boys worked together to steady the crucifix, while Father Arnon reached for his personal phone nearby.

"Thanks," Tan Rak replied under his breath.

"Bart..." the other said.

Tan Rak's brows furrowed in confusion until the speaker clarified.

"My name is Bart," the stranger said. "Want the full details? My name is Tinnapat Tangwong-sawart. Born in B.E. 2521. It's now B.E. 2539, so I'm exactly 18 years old."

Tan Rak's mouth twitched. He had many things he wanted to say but held them back. The person in front of him wasn't Khongdet, his close friend, but a stranger whose background he knew nothing about. It wasn't that unusual for someone to show up or disappear in the middle of the school year; that was just life for these students.

People came and went, though they usually left more often than they arrived. Life as a novice started in middle school, but now they were in Grade 12.

The person in front of him hadn't arrived for an ordinary reason, but perhaps out of a kindness that was difficult to explain.

"Bas...?" he repeated. "Bas, as in 'Look-Bas' (Basketball)?"

"No," the other replied. "Bart, as in Saint Bartholomew."

The person in front of him seemed reluctant to talk about it, yet he didn't exactly stop the conversation. Tan Rak was about to ask something else, but the priest had just finished his call and turned back toward the two boys holding up the pillar of the Christian faith.

"You've met then, I see?"

Father Arnon asked as the two boys looked at each other. It was a question aimed at both of them to see if they were acquainted. Tan Rak realized he hadn't introduced himself yet, so he gestured toward his school uniform where his name was embroidered as a silent introduction.

"Father is entrusting Bart to your care, Tan Rak."

The man who served as their headmaster in both the secular and spiritualworld spoke firmly. Tan Rak could only knit his brows, completely bewildered. He looked at Bart's face, but the other boy acted as if he didn't know the meaning behind the request either. Tan Rak felt he would have to ask Father Arnon for the truth directly.

"Entrust him to me for what exactly, Father?"

"Bart had to transfer here due to a necessary reason," Father Arnon began.

"Tan Rak, you know that our novice community is strict and has many more limitations than usual. But our school doesn't have time for a full orientation for him anymore. Since you are the head of Grade 12, I'm entrusting Bart to you. He still has a lot of adjusting to do."

The priest turned to give a reassuring smile to the newcomer. Tan Rak was certain he hadn't misread the look on the boy's face; Bart's expression was full of resistance. Even if it was buried deep down, the boy couldn't hide it from his peers.

The newcomer shifted his shoulders and moved slightly away from the speaker, his brows knitting together faintly, though he didn't voice any disagreement and accepted the Headmaster's words in silence.

Father Arnon briefly explained to Tan Rak that Bart would be transferring in as a novice for the final semester of the final year as a special case, with approval from the diocese. Father Arnon didn't disclose the specific reason, but it was likely something better left unsaid.

For now, the request was simply to help the new boy look after himself until he adjusted especially regarding the daily life of a novice, which involved many more details than that of a typical boarding school student.

"Tan Rak, let Bart borrow a novice uniform for now. We'll have a tailor make a new one for him later, though it certainly won't be ready in time for this Sunday's service."

The priest said his final words before excuse himself, just as the other students returned to finish securing the cross firmly to the pillar once more.

Before long, the electricity returned to normal. Bart introduced himself to the other friends, but no one seemed particularly interested in talking much.

The humid weather throughout the evening had made their school uniforms damp with sweat, especially after the power outage and the chaos of solving the immediate problem. Right now, everyone was thinking about the showers more than anything else.

"Have you ever used a communal shower?"

Tan Rak asked as he led Bart back to the dormitory after the students had finished their tasks and dispersed. Everyone seemed indifferent toward the new kid, except for those who were forced to deal with him by duty.

"Never. But I can learn. It's not a big deal," the other replied.

"Good. There are many daily routines here, but for now, you probably won't have to do much because we have to prepare for the big event this Sunday. In the meantime, if you need anything, just let me know. Just do what the others do for now. On Sunday morning, wear the novice uniform and meet at the church.''

''Actually, the Master has written the daily schedule on the board in front of the dorm, just follow that. If you need anything, tell me. We probably don't need to teach you every single thing; just watch what people do and follow along."

Tan Rak gave a long-winded explanation to the newcomer, but in truth, he didn't want to go into detail at all. He didn't intend to be that way, but the defiant look in the other's eyes made him feel like Bart didn't want any help or intimacy aside from coexisting according to duty.

Bart didn't show that he needed friends or anything of the sort. Both his eyes and his posture were full of cold indifference. When they reached the dorm, they separated without Bart even asking which bed was his.

In reality, the story of this new friend who seemed to have descended from the pages of an Apostle's creed should have just been one ordinary chapter in Tan Rak's life as a novice. That's how it should have been.

But the truth was not like that at all. The boy knew that his life was now partially intertwined with Bart's, at least by the duty assigned by Father Arnon. However, throughout the following days, Bart kept himself detached from everyone's perception, to the point that Tan Rak almost forgot what he was supposed to remember about this new friend... until the day of the important ordination ceremony arrived.

The new boy arrived at the cathedral in a jet-black suit.

Amidst the clean white uniforms of the majority of the attendees, especially the novices who were all in spotless white, Tan Rak saw the other boy the moment he stepped into the church. Due to the chaos of the ceremony, no one had been able to check on him in detail, including the guests who were dressed in various colorful formal outfits.

That jet-black suit didn't look out of place to most, but it was striking nonetheless. Because when the moment of the ritual arrived, Tan Rak's peaceful world felt as if it were collapsing before his eyes.

"The Lord be with you."

"And with your spirit..."

The priest, kind and generous, began the opening prayer, and the rest of the congregation knelt in reverence before God except for one person. Bart, in his solid black suit, stood alone, a defiant figure in the midst of total, humble silence.

Every eye in the room was fixed on the lone outlier. Tan Rak's heart sank to his stomach. He hurriedly handed his thurible to Khongdet before rushing over to drag the source of the trouble out of the sanctuary as quickly as possible.

Muttered voices rose from all directions, but Tan Rak had no composure left to listen. At first, Bart struggled against him, but he eventually gave in to the anger of the boy who gripped his arm tightly and pulled him away.

The two young men stood face-to-face in front of the cathedral. The one who had been dragged away shook off the other's arm, refusing to back down once they were out of the public eye.

Tan Rak asked him, frustrated, what his problem was. But the answer he received from Bart left him cold, as if he'd been drenched in ice water to his very core.

"I hate God... because God has never helped me with a damn thing!"