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      Each character in Text Messages from God was thought over carefully. Every word was chosen to make the person being read about come alive in the reader’s mind as a true individual.

      There’s Ryan, the dark-haired honor student who lets stress get to him. Ryan is high strung and depends greatly on his friendships, mainly his best friend Daniel and his girlfriend Jenna, for a release from that stress. He is not confident of who he is and so many high school students relate to Ryan and his confusion. He also doesn’t have any specific goals in life, but he’s very bright and is able and willing to make many friends.

      Next we glimpse into Patrick’s life, the party boy. Patrick is an aspiring musician who wants to live a little before "growing up." The boyfriend of Tanya, Patrick is not a snob, but he lives a guarded life even throughout his partying and rock-star lifestyle. Patrick gives off the impression of being new to Christianity because he is uncertain about certain verses in the Bible and how to interpret them. He is also suspicious of adults and is somewhat unwilling to talk with his youth pastor about personal thoughts and feelings.

      Jenna is a punk, no questions asked. She believes she can make her own decisions without the help of others – especially adults. No one knows why Jenna is so mistrusting, but she does love a good debate and is open to change, even if it means reconsidering what she has always believed. Although Jenna is not generally stubborn, she can be as a last resort. She refuses to let her life fall apart, as well as anyone else’s.

      Daniel is the "baby Christian" of the group. He displays the eagerness of a new believer in the way that he wants to worship God and serve him all the time no matter the consequences. However, what Daniel has yet to realize is that the path of Christianity isn’t always easy to follow or understand. He needs to surround himself with good influences and be willing to talk to older Christians for advice. He will eventually learn, but until then, Daniel has a few choices he must make concerning his faith.

      David has no connection with the other characters. Although he seems to be thrown in at random, this is not so. David teaches an important lesson about Christianity. He portrays Christians who are stubborn, prideful, and your basic modern-day Pharisee. While some people may look at David’s character and think that he is unrealistic, there is at least one David in every Christian organization. If we let ourselves act like David then we will gradually become him: no connection with other Christians to speak of and out of touch with God.

      Tanya is a thoroughly complicated character. She is a cheerleader and, she, like most teenagers, is a little rebellious and stubborn. She is troubled by some of her own characteristics and places a deep mistrust in most logic, feeling that Christianity says to take everything by faith. She is quick to judge but generally willing to repent. Tanya is not meant to be an unlikable character. Tanya is meant to be the character that everyone can relate to. She has friend troubles, school troubles, faith troubles, and the friends she needs to overcome it all.

      Megan, as the sole nonbeliever of Text Messages from God, is quite proud to make her beliefs – or lack thereof – known. Megan is the pride of this book, the character that brings completion. TMG, with all its short stories and morals, is really centered on Megan and her spiritual journey. She questions and tests God, but will she receive an answer? Though Megan does not have a chapter dedicated to her, the book begins and ends with her, she is mentioned throughout, and she is what I hope to be a truly unforgettable character.

      There you have it: the seven teenagers who compose Text Messages from God. Each possesses personal quirks and twists and each is likable and unlikable in their own way. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it.

      Megan was fed up with church. She had been starting to almost enjoy it, but that Wednesday night was horrible. The few friends she made in the past seemed to ignore her and the youth pastor’s message was a direct hit towards nonbelievers such as herself. So what if she didn’t believe in God? Tons of people didn’t and they seemed to be fine.

      "Besides," Megan muttered angrily. "I bet that half of those ‘Christians’ are just as ‘evil’ as I am!" But her argument felt flat even in her mind.

      That night, Megan couldn’t sleep. All she could think about was God. She firmly believed that there was no God because to her it wasn’t logical. Megan’s motto was to question what you hear. It helped her well throughout her fifteen years of life and she wasn’t going to give it up now.

      There’s no proof that God is real, thought Megan. There never has been. I mean, come on, the Bible? Christians always try to prove what they believe with the Bible, but how do they prove the Bible? You can’t use the scientific method to prove it, so how do I know that it’s real?

      Earlier that night, some girl, Tanya or something, had actually approached Megan and asked if she was saved. Megan looked her straight in the eye and flatly replied, "No." Tanya seemed a bit blown away and questioned why. Megan responded to her questions politely but with a certain coldness that Tanya definitely noticed. When Megan brought up her "no proof" argument, Tanya told her that Christianity was supposed to have a basis of faith.

      "I know how you feel," Tanya said. "I totally used to feel the same way. We’re not so different." Megan had a hard time believing that! Tanya always dressed in the latest fashions and wore a lot of pink. Megan, however, with her straight and short black hair, dark lipstick, heavy eyeliner, and fishnet stockings, was closer to a Goth. The only people she felt comfortable with at church were Jenna and her boyfriend Ryan. She could relate with them, since they were both "punk" and didn’t believe in forcing their ideas on anyone.

      Finally, around one A.M., Megan started talking to a God she didn’t believe existed.

      "If you’re real," Megan said. "Give me a sign. Send me some proof of my own! I’m not Tanya, why should I center my life on faith? I don’t do that, okay? I just don’t!" Suddenly she spotted her cell phone lying at the foot of her bed. "If you’re real," Megan repeated. "Send me a text message."

      Ha! Megan knew that there was no way "God" could text message her. And if he didn’t, he wasn’t real. Simple as that.

      For the first ten minutes of waiting, Megan was a little edgy. After thirty minutes, she became drowsy. Finally, after an hour, Megan couldn’t figure out why she was still awake. As she reached over to turn off her light, however, her cell phone beeped.

      New text message.

      Megan’s heart stopped as she looked at the screen. She picked up her phone to see the message and stared at it, openmouthed. After a moment she shook herself and started breathing again. It was her friend Jack from school, just texting to say hi. Jack had done that often, only never so late. Megan replied, "i’m sleeping u idiot" and rolled over to do just that.

      As she lay there, Megan tried to push away her doubts about why Jack randomly text messaged her so late . . . especially considering exactly what he had said.

      Ryan woke up, rolled over, and sighed. It was one of those days. He had been having more and more of "those days" as time went by. Days where he simply didn’t want to do anything.

      His youth pastor had a cool idea a few weeks previous to have students anonymously ask questions by means of note cards to be answered the following Wednesday night. Ryan asked why he didn’t feel like doing any of the stuff that he used to love anymore. His youth pastor, Bill, answered the question, but directed it towards depression. Not helpful – Ryan knew he wasn’t depressed. He wasn’t tired, he was eating, and he didn’t want to kill himself. He just wasn’t motivated.

      After a few extra minutes of gazing up at the ceiling, Ryan rolled out of bed and stumbled to his mirror. For a second he tried to fix his tousled brown hair, then shrugged and left it as it was. He knew exactly why he didn’t feel like doing anything: school. Ryan had so much happening in school that the stress was piling on hard. Occasionally he would relax, but then a school project that was due the next day would invade his thoughts and the empty pit in his stomach would rise again, conquering his throat and then head, awarding him a migraine.

      Ryan was not having an easy time in school. He was in almost all honor classes but falling desperately behind. He couldn’t schedule enough time to study and do homework, because not only did he have a job at Wendy’s, but Ryan also had his girlfriend, Jenna, to think about. He tried to plan "fun" things for the two of them to do in hopes that she wouldn’t get bored with him and leave. Not that Jenna was that type of girl, but you could never be too sure, and it was just one more concern for Ryan.

      Things for Ryan did not get better as the day progressed. After arriving at his plain-looking brick school he realized he forgot to bring in an English assignment – an important essay paper that was already late. His teacher had graciously given Ryan a week’s extension, and Ryan had worked hard to finish the paper and make it an A, but now he had forgotten it! Mrs. Stevenson was not pleased.

      "I’m afraid I shall be forced to take off a certain amount of points," she scowled at Ryan, who bit his lip in anger. Until his mother had pressured him into taking honors, Ryan had been an all-A student. Now Ryan was having a hard time in school. He tried to convince his parents to let him drop a few classes, but they were adamant that he stuck with it. Ryan didn’t see the point – wouldn’t colleges prefer to see Ryan making A’s in a normal class instead of C’s in an honor class? According to his mother, no, that was not the case.

      "It’s not the grades, it’s the achievements," Ryan’s mom berated him, but Ryan didn’t see himself making any achievements.

      Jenna approached Ryan at lunch and threw her arms around him.

      "Hey!" Jenna squealed excitedly. "How are you?"

      Ryan couldn’t figure out why Jenna was so excited. "Um . . . good?" he said in an unsure tone.

      Jenna pouted. "You don’t sound good. What’s wrong?" Even though her tone was consoling, her attitude at the moment was way too hyper for Ryan.

      "Nothing," he snapped, annoyed at himself for letting his attitude interfere with his girlfriend. "I’m fine, didn’t I just say that?"

      Jenna looked slightly taken aback, but she decided to let it drop. "You sitting with me today?" She asked cautiously.

      Ryan realized that he had hurt her feelings and forced a smile onto his face. "Of course," he said, planting a quick kiss on Jenna’s forehead. "Wouldn’t want to sit anywhere else."

      Jenna seemed pleased as she led Ryan over to where she and their friends were sitting. Scanning the table Ryan saw that most of the people were to his liking. A new girl at his church, Megan, was talking.

      "You can’t prove God," she said. "Not really. You can give me all the evidence in the world, but you can’t prove His existence to me."

      "What do you call the Bible, then?" asked Daniel Rodriguez, Ryan’s good friend. Daniel and Ryan were almost nothing alike, but they had known each other for so long that the differences between them didn’t matter. Daniel was a jock, Ryan a musician. Daniel was ambitious and loved to debate and he seemed to think that he always had the right opinion. Ryan didn’t argue with anyone very often and when he did his temper always got the best of him.

      Ryan enjoyed teasing Daniel about his lack of girl followers despite his broad shoulders and comfortable height. Daniel never seemed to mind, only said that he wasn’t looking for love. Ryan was secretly suspicious that the truth was Daniel would love his football more than he would love his girlfriend.

      "The Bible is just evidence – if even. I’m not saying it’s not true, but once again, there’s no proof! Why should I believe in a God that I can’t even see?"

      "Why not?" Jenna asked curiously.

      "Because it’s not who I am!"

      "Well then who are you," Ryan joined in rudely. Megan stopped to look at him – she hadn’t noticed his approach.

      "I’m my own person," she said defensively.

      "Yeah?" replied Ryan. "Because, you know, I hear a lot of people say that. You would think that if someone really were their own person, they’d have something a little more original to say."

      Megan glared daggers at him in response. Jenna looked disapprovingly to her boyfriend. Ryan knew that she didn’t think he should be jumping down a nonbeliever’s throat, but he needed someone to vent on!

      Still, he realized he was wrong. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Bad day."

      Megan loosened up a little. "Yeah? Me too," she commented.

      "What’s wrong?" Jenna asked, looking to Ryan.

      "Bet I know," Daniel smirked. "School." Ryan nodded.

      "Parents still won’t let you drop a few classes?" asked Jenna sympathetically, and Ryan nodded again, feeling slightly better. He wasn’t venting, but it was comforting to know that his friends weren’t going to jump down his throat like his parents. The rest of lunch period was okay, better than he expected. In fact, Ryan almost forgot about the massive test coming up in his math class.

      After lunch Megan cautiously approached Ryan. "Hey," she greeted him.

      "Hey," he said.

      "Listen, I know I’m a couple of years younger than you and everything, but I know people who used to go here. They took honors." Ryan looked around at her. What was she saying? "So listen," Megan rushed on. "Those teachers never change their tests." Ryan still didn’t get it.

      "So?" he asked, confused.

      "So I can get you the tests," Megan replied impatiently.

      "What? Wha – no!" Ryan said, surprised.

      Megan looked as taken aback as he felt. "What, then, just the answers?"

      "No! None! I don’t need that! I can study and do all right on my own."

      "Oh," Megan smirked. "I get it. It’s against your religion or whatever, isn’t it?"

      "Actually, yeah."

      "Look, if you’re God is so forgiving, then I think he’ll forgive you for making a few A’s this year. You don’t even need all the tests, only the first few or even one or two for the class you’re having the most trouble with. Think of them as study guides. As long as you’re learning the material, what’s the problem? But anyhow, I have to get to class. Think about it, alright? Here’s my cell." And with that, Megan handed him her cell number on a piece of paper and walked off, leaving Ryan feeling utterly lost.

      

      Over the next week Ryan stressed about classes. The end of the quarter was arriving and his teachers announced that they would have exams soon. Ryan got some grades back and he was making two B’s and four C’s. His parents were not thrilled and threatened to ground him until he brought his grades up. Ryan couldn’t take it anymore – he called Megan.

      "I knew you’d call," Megan said when he told her what was up.

      "Yeah, well, like you said, they’re just study guides."

      "Exactly! Now, what tests do you want?"

      Ryan told her, but he couldn’t stop the guilt from rising in his chest – and this feeling was much worse than his previous stress.

      

      It was Friday when Ryan had called Megan, and she was supposed to bring him the tests on Monday morning at school. Meanwhile, Ryan tried to keep his thoughts about cheating out of his head. He did everything he could: played guitar, cleaned his room (well, a little), watched a few of his favorite movies, and went on a date with Jenna. Nothing worked. For awhile Ryan thought about asking Jenna or Daniel for some advice, but he knew what they would say.

      "You don’t need that, man," Daniel would comment with a serious look on his face, but he would offer no alternative.

      Jenna, however, would rant and rave about how teachers shouldn’t pile on so much work, and how could they, and that he should probably take the tests just to "fight the system." Jenna picked up her own maxim from That 70’s Show ("If you’re not fighting the system then you are the system!") and she would live and die for it. While it would be nice to have the support, he didn’t want to hear the rant that would follow.

      Ryan’s last option was to call Bill, but again, he knew exactly what Bill’s reaction would be. He would listen quietly, pause for a moment at the end, and then offer advice that was no real advice.

      "It’s up to you," Bill would comment. "I can’t stop you from doing that. Just ask God if what you’re doing is right. If the teachers found out, would they care? What about your parents?"

      As Ryan considered this in his head, he did imagine what his parents would say. He thought about what everyone would say if they found out. He thought about what God would say.

      

      "I can’t take them," Ryan told Megan on Monday before she even opened her mouth.

      "What? Why?" Megan asked, shocked.

      "’Therefore, do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own,’" quoted Ryan.

      "Who said that?"

      "Jesus. It’s in Matthew 6:34. It’s a good quote; definitely true."

      Megan paused for a moment before nodding. "Yeah," she said softly. "Okay. So now what?"’

      "I’m not gonna worry. I’m gonna study like heck and try to talk to my parents, but I’m not gonna worry."

      Megan tilted her head and sighed a bit. "You Christians," she muttered. "You’re so . . . weird."

      "Thanks," Ryan laughed. "Best thing I’ve heard all week."

      "Oh, crap, I’m late, I’m late, I’m late," Patrick muttered under his breath as realized he had less than ten minutes to take a thirty-minute drive to school to teach a guitar lesson.

      Patrick threw down the notebook in which he had been writing a song and ran to jam on some socks and shoes. It was normal for him to be late for important meetings because he was always writing a new song or learning something on his guitar. Guitar was Patrick’s passion, his life.

      "Patrick, you’re late!" Patrick’s older sister Shelley called to him as he ran out the door.

      "I know, I know!" Patrick yelled back, but he still stopped to carefully place his red acoustic into the back of his Explorer before hopping into the car and racing out of his neighborhood.

      Once on the road, Patrick blasted his favorite rock station and sped off towards school. He looked at the clock. 4:38. He might make it on time.

      As he drove, Patrick let his thoughts absorb him. He was taking on a new student, some sophomore whose name was Drew or something. Yeah, that was it. Drew Carlson. Patrick had seen him around the halls a few times, but Drew hung out with a crowd that Patrick tended to ignore. Usually Patrick was off somewhere with his girlfriend Tanya and they were more of a two-person group. Since they were in different grades, they had other friends, but as Tanya put it, they were just "school friends," a fill-in to waste the time when the couple wasn’t together.

      Patrick screeched into the school parking lot three minutes late and ran to the empty classroom where he was supposed to meet his new student. Drew was already waiting, quietly strumming "Wonderwall" on his guitar.

      "Good song," Patrick nodded, panting slightly. Drew nodded back. He played a few more chords before stopping and looking expectantly at his new teacher.

      Patrick considered him for a moment before speaking. "How long have you been playing?"

      "Just two years. Never really had a teacher. I kinda taught myself," Drew grinned. Patrick just looked at Drew again. There was something a bit off-putting about him . . .

      "So what are you gonna teach me?" Drew said almost playfully.

      "Uh . . . let’s see, you know a bunch of stuff already, right? So let’s hear you play first. Um, how about some more of that Oasis? Whatever you know, and then we’ll work on you a bit."

      Drew nodded and immediately resumed playing. When he played his guitar, Patrick could see his blue eyes burning with passion. He was a little surprised – girls told him all the time that he had the "most beautiful blue eyes" but he had never really noticed. Drew’s eyes, though, when he was playing guitar, shone with inspiration, although there were circles under them. In fact, when Patrick looked closer, he could see that they were also slightly bloodshot.

      "What are you looking at?" Drew asked, and Patrick realized that he had stopped playing.

      "Uh . . ." Patrick didn’t really know what to say. He knew a ton of stoners, so it wasn’t surprising, only none of his students had ever been drugged up during a lesson.

      "Bother you?" Drew asked with a lopsided grin. "Or do you want some?"

      Patrick stared for a moment, then mentally shook himself and responded. "You should be playing," he said forcefully.

      Drew looked back blankly for a moment, mouth slightly open, before laughing. "Right, man" he said. "Playing."

      What the . . . Patrick thought to himself. Is it just me or can I actually smell the weed on him?

      "Look," Patrick said brusquely. "We can’t do this today. You’re stoned out of your mind, man."

      "Yeah, so?" Drew laughed.

      "So you can’t focus! I mean, you played that Oasis really well, but did you smoke right before you got here?"

      Drew nodded with a huge grin plastered onto his face.

      "Okay, so that would probably explain why you’re getting more stoned by the second," Patrick muttered, half to himself. Then, "We’ll do this tomorrow, okay?"

      "Okay," Drew said. "Tomorrow. Right. Same time, same place, yeah?"

      Patrick threw him a look and stalked out of the room. No way he was going to be caught with a stoner in the middle of his guitar class. It wouldn’t exactly look good for any other interested students.

      

      Patrick walked down the halls of his crowded, messy school the next morning looking for Drew. Before he could find Drew, however, Drew found and approached him.

      "Sorry," Drew apologized. "I know I was out of line. I was just getting myself psyched for this big party last night."

      Patrick looked at him hard. "Not much of an excuse," he said.

      "I know, I know." Drew looked slightly abashed. "I won’t come into lessons stoned anymore. So anyhow, we’re doing it again today, right? Same time, same place?"

      "Yeah."

      "So, um, you ever try any?" Drew dropped his voice to a conspiring whisper.

      Patrick looked at him, amazed. "What? Drugs?"

      "Yeah, man!" Drew laughed. "Drugs. Weed. Speed. LSD. Any of that crap, you know? It’s all good. Me, man, I prefer to stick with the weed, myself. Soft stuff, you know, but gives you a good buzz. Lot safer that what most people are doing."

      Patrick had to stop himself from laughing. Drew! The druggie Drew was actually talking about the safe usage of drugs! What was the world coming to?

      Of course, Patrick had always wanted to try something. He had been around the stuff at parties, and he wasn’t totally clean. Light stuff, he caught a cigarette every now and then, or would drink a beer, things like that. Nothing too heavy, he was always in control.

      But isn’t that exactly what Drew’s doing? Justifying drugs? Patrick thought. But it’s not the same! I’m not addicted, I don’t get drunk. I don’t need it.

      Patrick, lost in his thoughts, didn’t realize that Drew was staring at him expectantly. "Hey! Man! You there? You spaced out on me," Drew said impatiently, snapping his fingers in front of Patrick’s face. Patrick shook himself mentally and told Drew that he had never tried anything.

      "Well, you should," Drew replied. "Everyone should, even if it’s only once." And, seeing the unsure look on Patrick’s face, he said, "We’ll talk about it later, okay, man? See ya!" And with that, he walked away, leaving Patrick to be once more alone with his thoughts.

      

      Patrick wondered what Tanya thought about drug usage. She seemed so definite on where she stood, so sure of herself. It was one of her many personality aspects that he loved. You could ask anything and not only would she have an answer, but she would also give several reasons as to why her answer was better than yours was. Some people called her cocky, but to Patrick she was amazing. Red hair, green eyes, Tanya was the perfect Irish poster girl with a temper to match. The trick was to approach her cautiously.

      "Hey, Tanya, got a question for you," Patrick said as he greeted his girlfriend with a kiss.

      "Oh? What?" Tanya replied, sounding interested.

      "First I’ll tell you about my new guitar student, Drew," said Patrick, then proceeded to tell Tanya the whole story.

      "So he, like, actually offered you drugs?" Tanya sounded nothing short of amazed. "What did you say?"

      "Honestly? I never answered," Patrick said carefully.

      Tanya looked at her boyfriend in surprise. "What? Why not? Are you, like, thinking about taking them?"

      "Maybe." His voice was hesitant and unsure. "I mean, you know, what’s the problem with it?" Falsely casual, too.

      Tanya cocked her head slightly, and Patrick could see that she was chewing her bubblegum hard, trying to think of an acceptable answer.

      "’People do stupid things. People have always done stupid things, and people will continue to do stupid things, because people are stupid,’" Tanya finally spoke what Patrick knew to be her favorite quote. A viewer of Dan Abram’s had once sent it in and it got on the air. Tanya had memorized it and referred to it as everyone’s "life story" since.

      "So . . . it’s stupid? Or I’m stupid?" Patrick asked.

      Tanya smiled dazzling. "Both," she said. "But do whatever you want. Not yet, though. I think I might be able to find something to convince you."

      "Of what? That drugs are okay or that they’re bad?"

      Tanya shrugged and smiled mischievously. "Don’t know yet. Don’t care. I’ll find something, that’s all that matters." Then she leaned in to kiss Patrick.

      "Sounds good to me," he smiled.

      

      Patrick figured that when Drew said they would "talk about it later" he meant over the phone or something. Instead Drew wanted to talk about it in the middle of practice.

      He presented his idea by throwing down his guitar in the middle of playing "Bottom of a Bottle," and announcing that he was "bored." Patrick was, needless to say, slightly aggravated.

      "Okay," he breathed, trying not to lose control. "When you’re up on stage playing in a concert in front of thousands of people, you don’t just throw away your guitar and announce that you’re bored. The fans don’t usually go for it, you know?"

      "Right, sorry," Drew replied distractedly. "Anyhow, you want that weed or not? I’ve got some right now."

      "Wha – now? Here? Are you stupid or just insane?" Patrick asked, outraged.

      "No, not here. A friend’s holding it for me. Dude, he’d better not be using it. It’s a good stash that I’ve been reserving. Not too heavy, not too weak. And don’t worry about using your first time, if you want I’ll be there with you as your safety or something."

      Patrick’s mind was reeling so fast that he felt like he was already on drugs. "Uh, I can’t, man," he finally replied. "Promised my, you know, girlfriend I wouldn’t. She’d go insane. She wants to, uh, look some stuff up on the matter. Find out if it’s right or not."

      "Right," Drew replied, looking slightly put out. "If you need your girlfriend’s permission, fine."

      "Hey, why does it matter so much to you? It’s my body, right? My life? You know, not yours?"

      "Yeah, alright, that’s true. I only figured it’d be a good way to repay you for the lessons. You know, give you some stuff for free."

      "Don’t tell me you don’t have my money."

      "I got the money, okay? It’s just a . . . friendly gesture. But if you don’t want any, fine. No problem."

      "Great," said Patrick, slightly exasperated at this now pointless conversation. "Now, can we get back to playing?"

      

      Tanya called Patrick later that day. "I found something," she sang out in triumph.

      "For or against?"

      "Um . . . it’s, like, something in the Bible, right? Second . . . no, wait, first Corinthians 6:19 and 20. It says . . . ‘Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your body.’ But the thing is, it’s in a place that’s, like, talking about sexual immorality and stuff. So it might not have anything to do with drugs."

      "Yeah," Patrick said dully. "Good point."

      "Do you want to try the stuff?"

      "Do you?"

      "Not really."

      "Oh. I kinda do."

      "Oh."

      Just then, Patrick’s mom called him downstairs for dinner. "Oh, Tanya, I gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?"

      "Okay, bye!"

      "Bye."

      So I guess that’s it, thought Patrick. No drugs or whatever.

      But did Tanya have a point? Did that verse only relate to sex?

      Patrick ducked his head in a quick prayer. Lord, he prayed confusedly. I don’t really know if this crap is, like, right or whatever, so if you would just show me, that’d be cool.

      

      The next day Drew invited Patrick to a party that night.

      "Drugs there?" Patrick asked, already knowing the answer.

      "’Course. But you don’t have to try anything."

      "Time?"

      "Starts at ten."

      "Okay. I’ll come." And he did. When he arrived at ten thirty, the place was already full of smoke. Patrick decided that even if he didn’t try anything, he could at least get a contact high. Which might not be his fault. If it was wrong. Which it might not be.

      Drew found Patrick out in the crowd. "Sup, man?" He yelled, raising a glass and spilling beer on himself. Patrick found it to be pretty obvious that Drew was stoned out of his mind.

      "Dude, I am stoned out of my mind!" Drew yelled. Patrick laughed.

      "Couldn’t tell!" He yelled back.

      "For real, man? This stuff must not be as good as I thought, dude! I might need some more! Yeah! MORE!" With that, Drew disappeared out of sight. Patrick didn’t see him for another thirty minutes, but he mingled with the crowd. When Drew did return, he carried a bong with him.

      "Made it myself," he laughed. Patrick was impressed. He had never meant a … weed artist before. A weed artist? What? Patrick thought to himself. Eh, whatever. He and Drew went and sat on a couch.

      "So, dude . . . ever get caught with this stuff before?"

      "Uh . . . once, man. Got put in jail. Friends bailed me out, though. True friends." Drew nodded sagely.

      "Jail? For real?"

      "Yeah. Sucked. I’ve been to juvie before, too."

      Patrick got up suddenly. "I, uh, got to go."

      "What? You just got here, man!"

      "Yeah, I know. I got to go, that’s all. Um, later, dude."

      What was I thinking? Patrick asked himself as he drove home. I may not be sure about whether drugs are all right or not, but I know that doing illegal crap isn’t. Oh, man, I could have done it and gotten caught or put in jail . . . what would my youth group think? I don’t want that kind of reputation.

      As he drove home, Tanya’s verse kept coming back into his head.

      "Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God? You are not your own; you were bought at a price. Therefore honor God with your body," he recited quietly. He would never forget that verse again.

      What he said to Drew before was wrong. It wasn’t his body. It was God’s temple.

      Jenna arrived home from her date with Ryan in a complete bliss. He was so romantic! Greeted her at the door with roses, was always polite to her parents, took her to exactly the right places . . . and was an exceptionally good kisser.

      Occasionally Jenna would feel a little guilty about her dates with Ryan, because although her parents knew of their dating (and probably even knew that they were kissing), they most certainly didn’t have a clue about how much kissing.

      "But it’s not like we’re doing anything wrong," Jenna had told Megan sometimes over the phone. Megan always agreed, but Megan didn’t have a problem doing anything that was against her parents’ wishes.

      

      The following day, Wednesday, Ryan picked Jenna up for night church.

      "Hey," she greeted him happily.

      "Hey," he smiled back – Jenna loved that sexy smile that would appear on Ryan’s face so slowly. It made her want to kiss him immediately, so she did.

      "You look great," Ryan complimented Jenna, who smiled back and thanked him. She had picked out her outfit very carefully – it was getting colder, but she hated wearing big, bulky clothing. Jenna had found a comfortable balance between the two by wearing black pants she had gotten at Express, a red tank top from Hot Topic, along with a fishnet undershirt, also from Hot Topic. With her black boots, Jenna looked sexy and punk, just the way she liked it.

      She found it hard, but upon arriving at church Jenna managed to listen to the speaker. It was an interesting lesson, and Bill was a good teacher. He could relate to teens, seeing as how he had been one about five years ago.

      Near the end of the lesson, however, Jenna lost her focus a bit. She and Ryan had made plans to go out after church, and she was so excited about it! She was always excited about seeing Ryan. They had been dating for six months, Jenna’s longest relationship to date. She really felt that she knew Ryan, and she felt that she loved him, too. This thought distracted Jenna so much that she completely stopped listening to Bill to think about her and Ryan – especially about what a good kisser Ryan was. Not that they made out a lot or anything, they didn’t. She just really enjoyed it when they did. And it was happening more, but Jenna was pretty sure that wasn’t a problem. After all, that was the only thing that was happening. It’s not as if they were losing focus on God or anything.

      Suddenly, Ryan tapped Jenna on the shoulder. "Um, church is out," he said.

      Jenna looked around in surprise. How had she missed that? "Oh, right!" she exclaimed, hopping up. "So, where are we going now?"

      "Going now?" Daniel asked as he walked by. "Didn’t you two just go out? Last night?"

      "Yeah," Ryan grinned. "So what? Got a problem, Dad?"

      "Yes, I do! Son, you’re grounded! No dates!"

      Ryan turned to look at Jenna. "Looks like I’m gonna have to sneak out tonight."

      Jenna giggled, but she really wanted to get out of there. She had less than two hours to chill with Ryan because her parents always expected her to be back by ten.

      

      "So . . . where are we going?" Jenna asked Ryan in the car.

      "There’s a park there somewhere around here. It’s pretty cool, I think you’ll like it." Ryan responded.

      "Right . . . more details?"

      "Don’t worry about it! There’s a fountain and stuff. Trust me, you’ll love it."

      

      Ryan was right – Jenna did love it.

      "Oh, my gosh, it’s beautiful!" she gasped when she got out of the car. The site displayed a large field with fountains and a walkway. No one else was there, but the fountains, angels spitting water out of their mouths and various plant statues, were working.

      "See? I told you you’d like it," Ryan said to Jenna, and when she looked at him, that slow smile was creeping up on his face again. Jenna couldn’t resist; she just had to kiss Ryan, a sweet, lingering kiss.

      

      When Jenna got home that night, ten minutes past "curfew," she was relieved to see that her parents were asleep. Maybe they hadn’t noticed her prolonged absence. Besides, she really didn’t want to talk about her date with them. It had been great, but the date consisted of kissing, cuddling, activities of that sort. Jenna and Ryan had walked around the fountains for about five minutes, and then he kissed her, and she couldn’t help it, she kissed back, and for the next two hours, practically all they did was make out. Jenna loved it, Ryan was so good at it, but she was starting to wonder if what they were doing was right.

      Nevertheless, Jenna knew that she couldn’t talk this type of thing over with Ryan. He might get frustrated. She knew that it was really sweet of Ryan to make time for her in the first place, what with him being so busy its school.

      It was at times like this when Jenna almost wished that she got along better with authorities. She was always telling friends that if they weren’t fighting the system, they were the system, but sometimes she felt that a little help from the system might be nice. There was no way Jenna would ever go to a guidance counselor at school; that was just stupid, they never listened and soon after rumors would start. What she really wanted was to be able to go to her Sunday School teacher. Unfortunately, Jenna thought of Sunday School teachers the same she thought of regular teachers: people who used their position of authority to be as hypocritical as possible. Because of this, Jenna was always challenging her Sunday School teacher on all types of topics discussed in the Bible. Needless to say, her teacher was none too pleased with these challenges and often reprimanded Jenna in front of the whole class. No, Jenna would have to look elsewhere for the guidance she sought.

      

      That weekend Jenna decided to do a little research of her own. She didn’t exactly know where to start, but she logged online to www.bible.com and began looking anyway. Not really knowing what to put in, Jenna typed the first thing that came to mind: sin.

      Whoa! Jenna thought to herself 1189 pages of results came up. Let’s try that again. Next she typed in kissing, but that wasn’t found anywhere. Jenna supposed that was too modern. Finally Jenna decided on lust, positive that she had heard Bill speak about it. When a lot more results came up than she wanted, she decided to narrow her search to the New Testament.

      "Hmm," Jenna said as she scanned the results. The first verse, Matthew 5:28, seemed to say something interesting, but it was in King James Version. Jenna paused for a moment, biting her lip, but then copied and pasted the verse on a link for the New International Version. "Success!" she chanted as she read over the verse. "’But I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart.’"

      Okay, Jenna mused. I found a verse, and it seems to work, but what now? It seems to be talking to men, but it can’t just relate to them. Can it? And if it relates to a woman like me, what does it mean? Have I committed adultery with Ryan? But I love Ryan!

      And against her judgement, Jenna picked up her phone and dialed Bill’s number, something she had never done before. Bill gave his phone number and e-mail to everyone in the youth group on their fist day, assuring them to call him if they ever needed anything, but Jenna hadn’t taken him seriously. Now, though, she really did need someone to talk to.

      "Hello?" A male’s deep voice answered.

      "Um, is this Bill?" Jenna asked, a bit nervous. What if he was eating dinner? She hated interrupting people.

      "Yeah, who’s this?"

      "It’s Jenna McCarthy from church."

      "Oh, hi, Jenna! How are you?"

      "I’m doing good, how are you?"

      "I’m just fine."

      There was a pause. Jenna didn’t know what to say next.

      "Um, Jenna?" Bill asked. "Is there something you needed?"

      "Well, um, see, it’s like this . . ." Jenna stammered, then rushed on. "See, I’ve been dating that guy, you know, Ryan, for awhile, and of course we kiss and everything. But the thing is, see, we, um, make out, too. And I was just, like, wondering if that was okay or not. I mean, there’s this verse, Matthew 5:28, that talks about if a guy lusts after a woman or something, he’s committed adultery. So I’m kinda confused."

      "Oh," Bill said. "I see. Well, the verse applies to both guys and girls, if that’s what you’re wondering."

      "So . . . is it wrong?"

      "Well, let me ask you this: is your relationship with Ryan getting in the way with your relationship with God?"

      "Nooo, I don’t think so," Jenna replied slowly.

      "Okay, that’s good. What about your parents? What do they think?"

      "Ah, well, see, they kind of don’t really know."

      "And if they did know? Don’t you think maybe you should let them in on this?"

      "What?" Jenna was shocked. This was precisely why she never asked adults about anything. They just didn’t understand. "Are you kidding me? They’d flip! They might even make me break up with him!"

      "Okay, I understand that. I mean, believe me, I know that can be tough. But listen to me, Jenna: your parents have to know, or at the very least approve. And if they don’t approve, then it’s a sin. You may not think of it that way, and you may not even realize that it’s getting in the way of your relationship with God, but believe me, it is."

      Jenna sighed. "So, now what? I mean, if I don’t tell them, are you going to?"

      "Of course not. I believe that’s up to you. I can’t make your decisions for you; I can only guide you into God’s path. I know that it’s not always easy to see, but there’s a reason for everything that God commands us to do. He knows how it will all turn out. He sees the forest, you see the tree."

      "Okay, wait – what? What forest?"

      "Well, when an artist starts to paint a picture, he has the whole picture in his mind. Let’s say that picture is of a forest. When he starts painting, anyone who stops buy only sees a few trees. The artist sees the whole picture clearly in his mind. That’s the way it works with God and us. He has this entire plan for us all thought out, but as time goes on we can only see a section at a time. We won’t actually get to see the forest until we’re in heaven with him. Does that make sense?"

      "Uh, yeah," Jenna replied, although she was still a bit lost. "So . . . okay, right, I’ll think that over, I guess."

      "Sounds good."

      "Okay, well, thanks. Bye," Jenna said slowly and hung up.

      Great. Now she had a lot of stuff to consider.

      

      The next time she saw Ryan, Jenna had to pause and take a deep breath. Ryan walked over and greeted her with their usual kiss, which she returned only half-heartedly.

      "What’s up?" Ryan asked, sensing something was wrong.

      Jenna sighed and tried to look Ryan in the eyes. It wasn’t easy. "Look," she began, hating what she was about to say. "I hate to do this, but I need to think some things over."

      Ryan tensed. "Like what?"

      "Our relationship. My parents don’t know about . . . how physical we’ve gotten. And I talked to Bill about that, because it was kind of worrying me, you know, the guilt, and he says that it’s a sin. He says that my parents should approve. And the Bible backs him up on it, and so I would really like to keep going out with you, but I don’t think that we should make out anymore."

      Ryan paused. It wasn’t as bad as he thought, but it could still turn out that way.

      "And if we . . . don’t stop?" His voice was low.

      Jenna’s voice quavered as she answered, "Then we’ll have to break up. It’s wrong."

      Ryan looked at Jenna hard for a long time. Then he said, "Whatever you think is best," and walked away.

      Jenna looked after him, worry etched into her face. This was not going to be an easy thing to accomplish. She just hoped that God would give her the ultimate strength she needed.

      And who knows? Jenna mused to herself. Maybe I can get some more advice from Bill . . . then again, maybe not.

      quot;And where exactly do you think you’re going, young man?" Daniel’s mother asked him, hands on her hips, planting herself in front of the door like a linebacker would plant himself in front of the opposing team.

      It was a Wednesday night and Daniel had been about to leave to go to church.

      "Leaving to go to church," Daniel answered cautiously. He knew what was coming next.

      "Young man, you are not leaving this house! You have homework to do, not to mention that you could use with a little practice on your sports. Why not spend your time doing something valuable like studying or working out? Your father and I allow you to attend church on Sunday mornings and I think that is quite enough. It shouldn’t be cluttering up your life."

      Daniel was used to this type of lecture, but it didn’t stop him from arguing. "Sports take up more of my life than church does!" He protested.

      "Young man!" The favorite nickname Daniel’s mother used for him had a definite warning tone to it. "Do not argue with me! Church won’t get you into a decent college – sports will, and don’t you forget it. Now go back upstairs and do something productive! No church tonight!"

      Daniel stared at his mother, furious, then turned and stormed up the stairs. It was hard being the only Christian in his family. Not only did his parents not understand why he hated it when they cussed around him or took the Lord’s name in vain, but they rarely allowed him to go to church on Wednesday, proclaiming it to be a "useless social activity." They didn’t understand that Daniel, who had only gotten saved a few months previous, loved going to church not only to see his friends, but also to learn about God. Was that so hard to understand?

      

      The next day at school, Ryan asked his friend where he had been.

      "Mom wouldn’t let me go to church," Daniel scowled as he slammed his locker shut. He was still pretty mad.

      "Oh."

      "How was it?"

      "Alright."

      "Did you sit with her?" Daniel asked Ryan, referring to Jenna. Ryan shook his head silently. Jenna was still resolute on breaking up. At first she had just wanted to take a break from all the "physical" aspects of their relationship, but a few weeks later she had flat-out left Ryan, telling him that the temptation was too strong. The break-up had taken place nearly three weeks prior, but Ryan was still trying to get Jenna back. Daniel could tell that it had really messed him up.

      "Don’t worry about it, man," said Daniel. "She’ll come back to you."

      Ryan sighed. "I don’t know. She seems to mean it. But whatever – why wouldn’t your parents let you come?"

      "I don’t know! My mom said something stupid like it was a waste of my time. Can you believe her? She lets me go on Sundays but not on Wednesdays. She gets mad when I do ‘too much Bible study’ or when she comes into my room and I’m praying. Why can’t she understand?" Daniel ranted.

      "Listen," Ryan said. "Why don’t you just come to church with me next week? Tell your mom that we’re gonna, I don’t know, study for a test or something. She can’t argue with that, right?"

      Daniel looked at Ryan for a second, then grinned. "That’s a really good idea."

      

      Next Tuesday, Daniel pitched the idea to his mother. "So, is that all right?" He asked when he was finished.

      Daniel’s mother studied him for a long second, then briefly nodded her head. "It’s better than that church stuff you’re getting into," she muttered.

      Daniel sighed and thought about retorting, but decided against it. At least he was getting to go. Not that she knew, but Daniel didn’t see a problem with that. Sure, he was lying to his parents, but it was for God!

      The next day Daniel walked to school, planning on riding home with Ryan afterwards. They hung out for a bit, shooting hoops, then hopped in Ryan’s car and went to church.

      Daniel always felt immensely welcomed at his church. People went up to him and asked how he was doing, asked why he hadn’t been around, and Bill made a point of greeting Daniel with a grin. Bill had led Daniel to Christ and had also baptized him, so Daniel felt extremely close to him.

      Daniel and Ryan chose their seats in the back, far away from Jenna, who was ignoring Ryan. About halfway through the service, however, Daniel heard a noise in the back. He turned his and – his stomach jolted – there was his mother. She beckoned to him furiously. Daniel felt his stomach drop as he studied her tense face and thought about the punishment that was coming.

      "Crap," Daniel muttered under his breath.

      "What?" Ryan muttered back.

      "My mom’s here! I gotta go. Later," and with that, he got up as discreetly as he could and walked to the back. Simply by looking at his mother he could tell she was absolutely furious with him. She waited until they got into the car and exploded at him, lecturing for nearly ten minutes.

      "Lying to me! Sneaking away to church! Not doing school, or sports, or anything productive! I didn’t know where you were! You could’ve been lying to Ryan’s mother about going to church! No phone, no TV, no computer, and no church!"

      "No church? None!" Daniel said, outraged.

      "For two weeks! Not even Sundays! How dare you lie to me! You should know better, young man! What kind of a God would tell his supposed . . . followers to disobey their parents!" They had arrived home.

      "Jesus’ parents never stopped him from preaching the Word of God! They understood him!" Daniel shouted, getting out of the car. "You don’t understand anything about me!"

      "No, I just don’t understand what this obsession with church is! It is pointless, young man, and if you don’t watch it, you will never be allowed to go again! Now go to your room and get to bed!"

      Daniel threw his mother one more furious glance and retreated upstairs.

      

      As soon as he was able to, Daniel called Bill on the phone.

      "Yeah?" Bill answered.

      "Bill, hey, it’s Daniel."

      "Daniel, hey! Haven’t seen you around lately, where’ve you been?"

      "Uh, grounded. Still am, actually, I got a few more days left. Um, listen, really quickly, I have to ask you something."

      "Shoot," responded Bill, and Daniel launched into the whole story: how his parents weren’t saved, they didn’t want him going to church, and how he had to sneak out last time he went.

      Bill was silent for a minute after Daniel finished his story. Daniel was starting to get panicky; he didn’t want his mom to come home and find him on the phone.

      "Listen, Daniel, you know the Ten Commandments, right?"

      "Uh, yeah . . ."

      "Well, God tells us to honor your mother and father. Even if that means you can’t always come to church when you want to."

      Daniel was shocked. "What?"

      "Look, it’s great that you want to worship God, but lying to your parents isn’t the way to go. It could destroy your witness with your parents. Tell me, what did your mom think?"

      Daniel paused and felt his face grow hot. "She said something about a God that told his followers to lie to their parents."

      "Mmhmm. See what I mean? By obeying her, you can witness to her. Besides, you don’t need to go to church to have a relationship with God, you know."

      Daniel had never thought about it. "Really? Well, what do I do?"

      "Have a Bible study at home. Not just on Wednesdays or Sundays, have it every day. Just take about ten minutes out of your day to pray to God and read your Bible."

      "I already do that," Daniel responded, slightly aggravated.

      "Well, do it on Wednesdays. And sing praise and worship songs. Go through the exact same routine you would at church, just do it at home. Don’t argue with your mom or make it an ‘in your face’ type thing. Just worship God quietly. It doesn’t matter where you do it just as long as you are doing it. And that’s the best advice I can give you."

      Daniel thought he heard his mom’s car pulling in the driveway. "Um, okay, but I gotta go now. Thanks, man."

      "No problem," Bill said as he hung up.

      

      The following Wednesday after he got ungrounded, Daniel’s mother came upstairs to visit him. "You’re not going to church tonight," she said flatly.

      Daniel was disappointed, but he was ready, too. "Okay," he responded quietly.

      "You should study."

      "Okay. Is it okay if I read my Bible and stuff afterwards? I’ll still study," he added quickly.

      Daniel’s mother looked surprised and studied his face for a few minutes. "Fine," she said grudgingly, and left.

      Daniel grinned to himself as she left and sat down to do his homework. He wanted to do it as quickly as possible so he could get to his own Wednesday night service.

      First, though, he looked up the Ten Commandments. There it was in Exodus, in pure black and white.

      "Honor thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the LORD thy God giveth thee."

      Honor your mom and dad. Now that Daniel thought about it, that verse made sense. After all, if he followed his mom’s rules, she would be less likely to kill him before he turned seventeen.

      David was furious. He worked hard, constantly read his Bible, volunteered for his youth group whenever he could, and he didn’t get the job that he had been waiting for, to be a counselor on a church trip. David realized that he was a freshman and would only be a sophomore when the trip happened, but he felt it was better that way. After all, who could relate better to upcoming freshmen other than someone who knew them? Hadn’t he been in a youth group with them the year before?

      Obviously Bill didn’t feel the same way. And David couldn’t figure out why.

      Besides, it wasn’t as if this was the first time something similar to this had happened. How many times had other people gone to David for advice? He gave everyone the same advice: Talk to God. It worked for him, it was godly, it was Biblical, it should work for those baby Christians. But they told him that that kind of advice didn’t work, went to others for different advice. Eventually people just stopped asking, and it made David furious. Those Pharisees! Why couldn’t they understand he was right?

      Furiously, David swiped at his brown hair. He wanted to find his girlfriend, Rochelle, from the midst of the crowd. However, glancing at his watch, David realized that Rochelle wouldn’t be there yet. Another disappointment.

      In his disgust, David surveyed his church. There were times when he absolutely loved being there and there were times when he took a look around the drab, whitewashed walls and felt absolutely repulsed. How was God supposed to use him here? How could he work his appointed mission from God if Bill wouldn’t even appoint him to do his job, to be a leader to younger Christians?

      Suddenly, someone put their hands around David’s eyes from behind.

      "Guess who," a cheery voice said. David didn’t need to hear her sweet voice or feel her soft hands to realize that Rochelle had arrived early. He felt a connection with her.

      "Hey, Rochelle," David smiled and turned around, only to stop smiling abruptly. He stared, somewhat horrified, at Rochelle’s cut and dyed hair. "Your hair! What did you do?"

      Rochelle cute grin quickly faded. "I’m sorry?" she said, sounding hurt. "What don’t you like?" And she ran one hand through her new shoulder-length black hair. What was that cut called? A shag? Something like that. Well, whatever it was, David hated it.

      "It’s not you," he stated.

      "It is now."

      This blunt statement made David angrier. "What do you mean, ‘It is now?’" he spat. "No, it’s not. Or at least it won’t be. You’re growing it back and getting your original color back, too. As soon as possible!"

      He could tell Rochelle was aggravated. Sometimes David felt that Rochelle, while immensely good-natured, sweet, and unbelievably beautiful, was a little too forward for him. What about the verse that said women needed to be quiet in church? When David was a pastor, he was going to marry a nice, quiet girl that would take instruction properly.

      "We’re supposed to make decisions together," David stated staunchly. "It’s biblical."

      Rochelle sighed and said, "I am so sick of your biblical crap!"

      "What?" David yelled, unbelieving. "I thought you were a Christian!"

      "Oh, don’t give me that! You know I am! But you with you’re stupid hypocritical attitude – you’re such a legalist, you know that? Always having to play by the rules – except the rules aren’t there! You make them up to suit you!"

      Now people were starting to watch. "I do not!" David retorted. "The problem is you don’t know how to follow God. In fact, I don’t even know why I would date such a … a brazen woman!"

      "Fine!" Rochelle snapped. "It’s over!" And with that, she flounced away, leaving David to feel angrier than before.

      David stood there and felt completely shocked that Rochelle even thought she could make such a decision. Since the male was supposed to be the leader in a relationship, he was obviously supposed to decide when the couple ended their relationship.

      "First the counseling position, now this," David muttered angrily before slamming his fist into the wall next to him.

      

      After the next few days, things got worse. David would never have believed that Rochelle could be cruel, but her recent attitude changed his mind. He was sure that people were talking about him behind his back. Clearly Rochelle was spreading rumors about him.

      And what was she thinking? He had tried calling her over the next few days, but even when he knew she was there, Rochelle’s parents lied for her! Was the family nothing but sinners? The Bible stated that lying was wrong, anyone could see that!

      One day after David felt particularly satisfied with his daily quiet time, he picked up the phone and called Rochelle again. This time he got exactly what he wanted: an answering machine.

      "Rochelle, it’s me, David," he paused a beat and waited to see if she would pick up. No answer. "I wanted to let you know that, well, you’re wrong. You’ve been lying and also having your parents lie for you, and they’re wrong too. Clearly you do not seem to understand that the male is supposed to make important decisions in the relationship, and that’s okay, I understand. But seriously, Rochelle, you need to take some time out and talk to God. I mean, I know that you’ve been saying mean things about me, and again, I forgive you because I know that you’re a weak Christian like that. But just take some time out and talk to God, okay? And that’s all I have to say to you." Hanging up, he felt entirely satisfied with himself. Hopefully by tomorrow, Sunday, Rochelle would already be realizing that she needed to learn some humility. Maybe she would even apologize.

      

      "David, I think I need to talk to you," Bill said to David at church the next morning.

      "Sure thing, Bill," David responded cheerfully, still in a good mood about the previous day. It hadn’t happened yet, but David knew that God was telling Rochelle to apologize, and unless she was a complete heathen, there was no doubt in his mind that she would before the day was over.

      "It’s about Rochelle." Bill stated. That confused David. Was Rochelle too scared to apologize, or was she so humbled she felt she had to get a more godly person to do so for her?

      "Yes, sir, what about?"

      "I, um…I got a call from her parents yesterday and it seems to me that you’ve been treating her pretty badly."

      David was floored. What was Bill taking about? Immediately he tried to fix the problem. "Sir, I see that Rochelle must be telling you the same things that she has been telling everyone else, and I apologize on her behalf."

      Bill studied David for a moment, jaw tight. Then he went on. "I heard that you left a message on her answering machine yesterday. I listened to that message, and in my professional opinion, there was not one drop of godliness anywhere in it. Instead, it made you come across as proud and rude."

      "I’m sorry, sir?" David couldn’t believe he was hearing this.

      "Apparently Rochelle’s been pretty upset over you two breaking up, and while at first I thought it was normal teenage stuff, she seems to be acting quite a bit differently. She said that you called her ‘brazen,’ is that right?"

      "Yes, but if you had only heard – "

      "Not to mention the message that you left. I also heard some things from her parents about how you used to tell her not to start Bible studies or even get her hair cut without your permission?"

      "Sir, it wasn’t like that!"

      "Wasn’t it?"

      "I’m the leader! She needs to come to me!"

      "No, she does not. She needs to go to her parents for important decisions. Nowhere, and I mean nowhere, in the Bible does God give you permission to tell Rochelle what to do. Now I was up most of last night praying about your problem," Bill went on, and David felt his fury growing. A problem? He had no problem! "And I found some verses for you. First of all, James 4:10, which says to ‘Humble yourselves in the presence of the Lord and He will exalt you.’ Also check out Ephesians four verses thirty-one and thirty-two. Do you know what those verses say?"

      "No," David mumbled.

      "They say that we are to ‘Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice.’ They also tell us to ‘be kind and compassionate to one another’ and to forgive each other like God forgave us. Now you are not ‘humbling’ yourself at all. I don’t see you being very kind or compassionate with Rochelle, and I have to tell you that if I don’t see a change in behavior, we’re going to have a problem. Do you want to have a problem with me?"

      "No," David said. "But I think that you are looking at this in clearly the wrong way. I also know that you should talk to God again and give him the chance to tell you the right thing, since you missed it the first time."

      Again, Bill was silent for a minute, staring at David as if he was trying to keep his emotions under control. When he finally spoke again, it was in measured tones. "Well, that may be," he said. "But you need to understand that I may not be the one who needs to listen to God.

      David stared at Bill. "I always listen to God," he said, then turned and walked away, hardening his heart once more to God’s clear instruction.

      

      As Bill still stood there, watching David walk away, he saw Rochelle approaching him out of the corner of his eye.

      "He doesn’t care, does he?" she asked sadly.

      "No, I’m afraid not," Bill responded. "But remember, if he bothers you again, I want you to call me and we’ll have a little meeting. If need be, I’ll get Pastor Williams to join in with us, okay?"

      "Okay, Bill," Rochelle smiled. "Thanks."

      "Dear Lord, help me to understand what I have read from you today," Tanya prayed quickly as she shut her Bible to get ready for school. She had finished reading Matthew chapter two. Matthew was one of her favorite books of the Bible, and ever since Tanya had decided to read the Bible in a year, she had been impatient to get to Matthew. The chapter she read that morning consisted of various lessons and parables, such as following your government and not excluding others.

      Tanya decided to make Matthew 2:36-39 her memory verses. They read, "’Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?’ Jesus replied: ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.'"

      Tanya thought she was usually nice to others. The only people who really bugged her were those who were against her and her cheerleader friends, and of course people who were totally opposed to Christianity, even if it didn’t concern them.

      

      At lunch Tanya was looking for a seat when she saw her friends sitting with whom she considered a total loser – Megan. Megan was new to Tanya’s church, but Tanya could not figure out for the life of her why Megan attended on the rare occasions she showed up. She seemed to hate everything she heard and was not nice to anyone. Just a month or so ago, Tanya, trying to do the right thing, had asked Megan if she was a Christian. Megan had stared at her and coolly replied, "No." Tanya was a little put off by her show of attitude, but didn’t want to give up so easily, so she asked Megan why. Of course, Tanya had not been expecting the tirade against her! Megan was concerned with facts and proof. She wasn’t willing to take a leap of faith for anything.

      Since that night, Tanya had rarely tried to talk with Megan, seeing as how the two of them obviously had nothing in common. However, it was becoming increasingly clear that some of her friends – even a few of her fellow cheerleaders – were getting closer with the strange Goth girl.

      Despite her animosity for Megan, Tanya resigned herself to sit near her.

      "What’s up?" She asked her closest friend, a pretty black girl named Anna, who was not a cheerleader but had grown up with Tanya.

      "Nothing. We’re talking about Mrs. Stevenson’s upcoming English project."

      Tanya groaned. "Is it time for that already?"

      "Yeah, I know!" Anna grinned. "It’s rumored that this year she’s going to put us with partners, though. Like, maybe we’ll be together. That’d be cool, right?"

      "Oh, totally, but you and I know that we won’t get anything done!"

      The two girls laughed together. Maybe Mrs. Stevenson’s English project won’t be that bad this year, Tanya thought.

      It was then that Tanya got chills on her neck. Turning her head slightly, she saw Megan staring at her.

      "What is that girl’s problem?" Tanya muttered disgustedly.

      "Who?" Anna asked, and Tanya told her.

      "Megan? I kinda like her. She’s alright once you get to know her. Doesn’t seem to care much for cheerleaders, though," she added with a significant look for Tanya.

      "I’ve noticed," Tanya replied, disgruntled. "I don’t see why! We’re alright! We’re more than alright – we’re icons for this school."

      "Yeah, she mentioned something about that. Said something about an elitist attitude, actually."

      "Elitist? Right, sure, whatever. Megan doesn’t know what she’s talking about, obviously."

      Anna just shrugged and went back to eating her lunch.

      

      Whatever Tanya thought at lunch, she quickly forgot as Mrs. Stevenson assigned partners for the projects.

      "Anna and Kyle," Mrs. Stevenson announced with a dramatic flair. Tanya groaned on the inside but could tell that Anna was thrilled – she had a major crush on Kyle.

      "Megan and Tanya."

      At this, Tanya’s mouth completely dropped open. She was sure she misheard. What kind of teacher would be stupid enough to put two obvious enemies together? An English teacher, evidently.

      Mrs. Stevenson was done announcing the partners. "This year the project is incredibly easy," Mrs. Stevenson said. The rest of the class groaned. Whatever Mrs. Stevenson thought was easy was bound to be excruciatingly hard. "All that you must do," she continued, ignoring the groans and glares. "Is write," here she paused. "Something."

      "Something?" A girl asked sarcastically. "Like a sentence?"

      "Indeed, Miss Plunkett, if you believe that writing a sentence will reward you a passing grade. You may write whatever extravagant piece of writing you wish and make it however long you wish. Simply get the point across. Now then, why don’t you all go sit with your partners and start brainstorming."

      

      In a huff, Tanya stood to sit with Megan, who looked particularly displeased.

      "We’re not doing some stupid article about cheerleaders," Megan sneered.

      Tanya fought hard to control her temper. "Okay, well, I wasn’t planning on it. But if you have any ideas, I would love to hear them."

      "Yeah, I have an idea. Why don’t we write about something meaningful?"

      "Like what?"

      "I dunno."

      ‘Well then, that’s not much of an idea, is it?" Tanya snapped.

      "I don’t see you coming up with anything!"

      "Girls," Mrs. Stevenson said warningly. The two fell silent.

      "Are you, like, at all good at writing?" Tanya asked, trying to soften her voice a bit.

      "I’m going to be a journalist."

      "Oh." Silence. "Do you want to write an article?"

      "Sure. What about?"

      "What do you think is meaningful?"

      After another minute or so of silence, Megan shrugged. "I don’t know."

      Tanya quickly lost her patience again. "You said you want to write something meaningful – you don’t have anything meaningful to say. You get on my case about not having ideas – it’s only been five minutes and I’m the one who suggested an article. If we pass, it’s going to be because we both worked for this, not just me."

      Megan rounded on Tanya. "As you said, it’s only been five minutes. Just because I’m not full of peppy cheerleading attitude doesn’t mean I can’t pull my load, okay? I don’t have to think at the same pace as you, and you had better not expect me to. I do my own work in my own time. Got it?"

      "No, I don’t ‘got it,’" Tanya said hotly. "In case you missed it, this assignment has a deadline. So get thinking. Now."

      

      "It was a total waste of time," Tanya complained to Patrick. "That stupid freak couldn’t think of anything. I made all kinds of suggestions – animal cruelty, new shops that are opening up, Christianity –"

      "Wait a second – you suggested Christianity to a Goth?"

      "Yeah, so what? She’ll get used to it."

      Patrick tilted his head and smiled slightly. "Bit brave of you."

      "No, not really. It’s not like I was witnessing to her."

      "Why not?"

      "Why not what?"

      "Why weren’t you witnessing to her?"

      Tanya looked to Patrick, disbelief etched onto her face. "I’ve tried that, remember? Hello, where were you that night she totally blew me off?"

      "Yeah, I remember. It’s just not like you to give in so quickly."

      "I didn’t ‘give in,’" Tanya glared. Patrick wisely dropped the subject.

      

      Tanya was up late that night – it was almost eleven thirty. She was studying for an exam in biology when her cell phone rang. Unknown number, so Tanya ignored it, but they kept calling back. Finally she answered, and an unfamiliar voice asked if it was Tanya.

      "Yep, who’s this?" Tanya retorted.

      "Megan."

      "Oh." Tanya’s voice dropped a few octaves. "How’d you get this number?"

      "Does it matter? Listen, we should write about Christianity. Both views."

      "What?"

      "The paper," Megan snapped. "The stupid end-of-the-year paper we have to do? English teacher, Mrs. Stevenson, assigned it? Remember?"

      "Yes, I remember," Tanya replied testily. "I guess I just wasn’t expecting a phone call about it in the middle of the night."

      "Get used to it. I think best at night."

      "Not saying much," Tanya murmured.

      "Excuse me?" Megan said.

      "Nothing. Sounds like a good idea. Start writing your view and I’ll write mine."

      "Fine. Don’t use ‘I.’"

      "What?"

      Megan sighed, obviously frustrated with having to explain simple grammar to another. "In a professional piece, one does not use contractions or personal words, such as ‘I,’ ‘you,’ ‘me,’ etc. Got it?"

      "Whatever. Bye."

      "Later," Megan hung up.

      "That girl," Tanya muttered. "She totally deserves to be slapped."

      Oh well, she thought. I better start writing.

      

      The next day was a Saturday, so Tanya called Megan and invited her over. "We can, like, compare notes or whatever."

      "Fine. Give me your address and I’ll be right there."

      Within ten minutes Tanya’s door rang, and Megan was standing there, binder in hand.

      "You live close," Tanya commented, not too pleased about that.

      "I live closer. I walked."

      "Don’t you have a car?"

      "I’m only a sophomore, Tanya, same as you."

      "I meant your parents."

      Megan stared at Tanya, offended. "Of course we have a car. My mom’s at work. You implying something?"

      Tanya felt herself blush. She had been implying something, but Megan didn’t need to know that. "No, it was just a question."

      Just then Tanya’s mom walked in. "Hello, girls," she smiled. "I whipped up some lemonade if you both would like some."

      Tanya winced, expecting the worst from her guest. But Megan just smiled politely and said, "Thank you, ma’am," causing Tanya’s mom to beam at them before leaving the room.

      Tanya was more than slightly shocked. She had never seen Megan smile or talk politely before. If Megan smiled, it was sardonic, and it was well known that she could not stand most adults.

      Hypocrite, Tanya thought to herself.

      As each grabbed a glass of lemonade and sat, Megan pulled a few papers out of her binder.

      "Let’s switch our papers and work on editing grammar. No personal opinions or anything."

      "Okay," Tanya agreed. Sounds easy.

      As she read over Megan’s papers, however, she could see some problems. Most of the grammatical work was correct, but her morals were so different that Tanya couldn’t see how she could stand working with such a – a pagan!

      She believes in homosexual freedom, is a supporter of evolution, and thinks that most Christians are pompous? Thought Tanya incredulously. This girl is insane!

      When she was done, however, Tanya silently handed Megan back her paper. She looked at hers and saw blue ink stains all over it. Megan had a good eye for editing, Tanya could tell, but she thought she was being just a little too critical. Half the stuff Megan pointed out Tanya doubted that even Mrs. Stevenson would care about.

      "Don’t you think you’re being a little harsh?" Tanya asked pointedly, gesturing to her paper.

      "No," Megan said bluntly. "And I could be worse."

      "Oh, yeah? How?"

      "By saying everything that is wrong with your ideas. However," Megan rushed on before Tanya could jump in. "We’re correcting grammatical errors, not each other’s opinions. I think that we should keep these. We can make a document about beliefs. Your beliefs versus mine. Not a debate, just some ideas."

      Tanya was burning with anger at having been insulted, but she surly agreed.

      "I have my writings saved on a disk. Where’s your computer? I could edit mine now."

      Tanya pointed silently to the next room. While Megan edited her work, Tanya looked over her own.

      She could see why Megan might disagree. Her Christian beliefs revolved around acceptance, peace, and faith. Megan doesn’t accept anyone, and she’s probably in a gang or at least does drugs. Tanya sat there, brooding over her unwanted partner, until Megan came back.

      "Finished," she announced. "Your turn."

      After Tanya was done, she walked back to the kitchen, but Megan had left.

      "Sweetie?" Tanya’s mother called. "Your friend left. She’s very polite, you know. I wouldn’t mind you having her over more often."

      "Mom!" Tanya yelled exasperatedly. "You don’t understand anything!"

      

      Monday at school, Mrs. Stevenson asked for a review over the students’ papers.

      "And what are you girls doing yours on?" She asked Megan and Tanya.

      "Contradicting beliefs," Megan said promptly. "Tanya’s a Christian and I’m not. She wrote a paper about why she’s a Christian and I wrote mine about why I don’t believe in Christianity. We’re going to combine them. Here," she said, thrusting her paper towards Mrs. Stevenson. Tanya hastily took out her own and handed it to her teacher.

      Mrs. Stevenson reviewed both papers then looked up, lips pursed. "I don’t know, girls," she said.

      "What?" Tanya asked.

      "What’s the meaning of this?"

      "The paper?"

      "Yes, yes, the paper, of course! What point are you trying to make? That’s the whole objective of this assignment, you see. To make a point. As I said before, I don’t care if you write one sentence, just so long as there’s meaning to it. No, this won’t do at all," she sighed, handing back their papers. "It’s a good start. But there’s no clear objective."

      

      "What does she mean, ‘no clear objective?’" Tanya fumed after class. "Stupid adults! I swear, they’re always acting like they’re the ultimate authority on things – like teenagers are so stupid."

      "For once, we agree," Megan spat. "I think it’s a great paper. We’re giving two very different, very real perspectives on something, what more could that woman expect? The point is that people are different and that there are no clear answers."

      Tanya paused.

      "What?" Megan asked.

      "Nothing. I hadn’t given much thought to our point or whatever, but yeah, that does seem to fit. How can she not get that?"

      "She’s biased?"

      "Obviously."

      The bell rang, a warning for the students to get to class.
"I’ve got to run," Tanya said abruptly. "Come with me to my house after school."

      "Don’t you have practice?" Megan asked.

      "Oh, right. Okay, come to practice."

      "No thanks," Megan sneered. "I’ll meet you at your house afterwards."

      "Whatever," Tanya rolled her eyes as she strode off to class.

      

      "We need a new objective," Tanya said as soon as she saw Megan.

      "I know. I’ve been thinking I should have come with you to cheerleading practice."

      "What does cheerleading have to do with anything?"

      "Well, I figured that can be our mission. Two different girls, different perspectives, different religions. Rewrite your paper. I wrote mine again. This time, write about what’s important to you, but work your religion into it. Then I’ll go with you one day to cheerleading practice and church, and you can come with me to two activities of my choice that explain who I am. After that, we’ll write another paper together about the results."

      "And what will the results be?" Tanya asked, more than a little cautious. What if Megan dragged her along to a cult meeting or something? A rally against pro-lifers?

      "I don’t know, I’m not psychic," breathed Megan impatiently. "Are you in or not?"

      "Well," Tanya hesitated. "What will I have to go to?"

      Megan laughed a quick, sarcastic laugh. "Whatever I want. I was thinking that you could hang out with my friends and me at the mall or something one day and then hang out with me on a Sunday morning or Wednesday night."

      "Miss church?" Tanya asked, incredulous. "I can’t do that?"

      "Can’t or won’t?" Megan clarified. "Because I think it’s perfectly acceptable. If anyone asks where you were, tell them that you were working on a school project. Or does your church not believe in doing school?"

      "You’ve been. You know perfectly well it’s okay to miss church. I mean, come on, it’s not like you’re a regular attendee yourself, and does anyone get on your case? Other than asking where you were?"

      "No, I guess not, I just wanted to make sure that your moral standards weren’t being compromised."

      "Thank you so much for caring. Now, can we, like, get on with this? You wrote your paper? Let me see it. I’ll write mine today or tomorrow and give it to you Wednesday afternoon, when you come home with me from school and before we leave for church. Then I’ll go with you and your friends to a hangout of your choice on Friday, but only after cheerleading practice. Next week, you come with me to practice, and then the Wednesday after that I’ll chill with you. I suggest that it’d be at home, considering that you’ve spent time with my family."

      To her credit, Megan looked impressed. "That’s decent organizing. Your hangouts, then mine, then yours, and end up with mine before rewriting the paper. Sounds great."

      "Cool. Now give me that paper."

      

      "So how are things going with the Goth chick?" Patrick asked his girlfriend later that night.

      "Better than I thought. She’s actually working without putting up too much of a fight. I swear, though, that girl is, like, so weird. I’ll be so glad when this project is over."

      "Yeah, I’ll bet. Listen, honey, I have to go, but I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?"

      "Alright. Bye."

      "Bye."

      

      "Megan, are you sitting with me tonight?" Jenna asked Megan at church that Wednesday.

      "Actually, I’m going to sit with Tanya for the night," Megan nodded towards her partner.

      Jenna looked momentarily surprised, but stuck out her hand and introduced herself with a smile nonetheless.

      "Hey, Tanya, I’m Jenna."

      "Hi! I think we have a science class together." Tanya smiled back.

      "I think you’re right. Well, I’d better go grab a seat. See you in school tomorrow, Meg," Jenna nodded and ran off.

      "What was that about?" Megan asked, watching Jenna disappear into the crowd.

      "What?"

      "Your niceness."

      "It’s called being polite. Really, you should try it sometime," Tanya said, then winced. She didn’t want to fight at church.

      For once, though, Megan let it slide. "You weren’t that polite to me when we first met."

      "Yes, I was! I introduced myself and –"

      "And immediately started pressing me for information. You didn’t even find out anything about me first."

      Tanya fell silent for a moment before speaking up again. "We should find a seat."

      "Okay. Where to?"

      "I always sit on the front row. You know my girl Alyssa, right? You can sit between me and her."

      The rest of the night went without incident, and Tanya noticed that Megan was being very observant throughout the night. Once she asked if all Tanya’s friends were Christians.

      "At church? Yeah," Patrick smiled. "Not at school."

      "Like some of the cheerleaders and a few people I talk with in class," commented Tanya.

      "Are you friends with anyone like me?"

      "What does that mean?"

      "Well, I’ve seen the people you talk to and I’m not sure any of them have ever worn anything outside of Abercrombie & Fitch, Hollister, and American Eagle. Certainly they don’t wear much black."

      "Oh, like that? I don’t know, I don’t, like, usually judge people on how they look," Tanya said, somewhat confused. What did her friends look like? Surely they shopped at Target or somewhere like it occasionally. Tanya never did, but her parents had decent jobs enough to pay for numerous clothes coming from the mall.

      "Where do you shop, Megan?" Patrick asked.

      "Wherever. Mainly Hot Topic, Old Navy, the works. I like Aeropostale."

      "Yeah? Me, too. Of course, my sister Shelley loves to pick out clothes for me, and Tanya does too. Are all girls like that?"

      Megan smiled slightly. "I don’t pick out clothes for anyone unless they ask. I like to, though. It’s a form of creative expression."

      "Yeah, chick art on a live canvas. Nice, Megan."

      After church Tanya asked Megan what she thought.
"I’m reserving judgment until my paper gets written," Megan replied cryptically. "It was okay, though."

      

      Over the course of the next week, Tanya and Megan wrote, rewrote, and conspired together. Megan had almost both sides of her paper written, but she was refusing to let Tanya see until she went with her to practice.

      Finally, on Monday, Megan attended practice. She sat on the sidelines and watched the girls work. When they took a break, she walked over to where Tanya was standing.

      "Hey, freak," one of the girls called out as Megan approached. Megan sneered but didn’t reply.

      "Don’t be mean," Tanya implored.

      "Whatever," the girl said. "She doesn’t belong here. She belongs with her other pot-smoking friends."

      This time, Megan did feel the need to reply. "Excuse me?" she responded, obviously angered. "Don’t talk about my friends. You don’t know anything about us."

      "Oh, really? Why don’t you tell me all about you? Let’s start with the drugs. Like, how many do you take in a day – no, in an hour?"

      "Screw you, you ignorant piece of trash," Megan replied. "I’m straightedge as well as most of my friends. Which is more than you can say about yourself when you go out to those parties. How many times a week do you get drunk, exactly?"

      The girl, whose name was Marisa, shouted something that Tanya was shocked to hear. Things had gone so well at church that she hadn’t expected a riot at practice. A few other girls told Marisa to be quiet.

      "Really? Should I? Come on, Tanya, are you telling me this is all totally new thinking for you?" Marisa countered. "I know you’re only hanging out with the freak because of school. Tell me, what is she like?"

      Tanya was stunned. Of course she had similar thoughts about Megan, but she never would have voiced them. And as she thought about it more, she didn’t think Megan was like that after all. She didn’t party or skip school, she was just different.

      "Just stop, Marisa," Tanya defended Mega