The hug that came was swift and warm and prolonged and wholly expected. JC was likely the touchiest over-five year old on the planet. No one hugged or held hands with friends and strangers alike more than JC did. He was tactile in ways that made grown men, who all grew up in a culture where they were not supposed to be doing such things with one another, more than all right with the experience. People tended to come away saying that JC smelled good. Or hugged them the way that someone important but now gone from their lives use to. It all had to do with that charisma, surely, but it made no difference.

He was a magician without doing much more than offering a smile and a touch.

That lingering hug eventually broke off and JC bounded back to his feet so he could fish his phone from the pocket of his skinny jeans. He wanted to tell everyone all together. Tomorrow, after Judas found a suitable RV or an old tour bus or something for them to buy. He sent a group text informing the Twelve to meet at the beach for pizza at dinner tomorrow. The sound of the sent message, followed by the buzz of Judas’ phone, made JC smile dazzlingly.

“Everyone heard the same calling,” JC said, several long minutes after Judas had actually asked him if he thought the Twelve would be willing to travel. “This is what we’re supposed to be doing. See you tomorrow!”