"I just have to make one more stop," Mom says, slowing down in front of Winthrop Town Centre. "Is that all right?"

"Where?" I ask.

"Publix."

"Um... Can you... drop me home first?" I search my mind for an excuse. "I have a lot of homework to do."

Flatly, Mom replies, "It's summertime, Abigail."

"Self-imposed homework," I say, hoping my quick response won't cause suspicion.

"It'll be quick, Abby. I promise. Especially if I have your assistance."

I sigh, knowing I've been defeated, but then I find a spark of hope. "Can I stay in the car, please?" I'll beg if I must!

Mom scrunches her nose, and I can already guess what she's going to say. "You know I don't feel comfortable with that..."

"Mom, I'm sixteen - almost seventeen. Next year I'll be old enough to drive by myself."

"Yes. Soon, but not quite yet."

I give my mother the "dead goat eyes" but then remember how much she dislikes that. I replace it with a pleading look, and she finally agrees. As she hands me the keys, I say, "Thanks!" and lock myself in as she's always taught me.

To occupy myself, I turn on my phone and click on the Safari app. The first page that pops up is Facebook. After refreshing the page, I scroll through my friends' posts, which consist of events they're going to, new pages they've liked and more, but then one particular post catches my attention, so I stop scrolling. One friend (who is also one of the other volunteers), Grace Holcomb, has liked a video. I instantly recognize the side profile of the boy in it.

Chase.

My mouth agape, I stare at the picture of him sitting in front of a piano with his fingers on the keys and his mouth open as if he's singing! I bring the phone closer to my face and squint. Surely this can't be Chase.

My thumb hovers over the play button. Should I? Nothing good could come from it... but nor could anything bad. With that in mind, I press the 'play' arrow. The recording begins before he even touches the piano. It starts with an introduction; he explains that he posted the video because a friend of his "forced" him to, and then says the name of the song: But a Dream. I'm really intrigued now.

"Without further ado..." Chase appears as if he doesn't want to do this. "Here it is." But then he pauses. "By the way, this isn't a true story."

"Yes, it is," says a louder voice with a wide smile in it. It sounds as if it belongs to someone standing behind the camera.

Chase rolls his eyes. Rather than arguing, he places his fingers on the piano and begins to play. The beginning is sweet, yet sad... Bittersweet, and I can already imagine what the lyrics might be.

"If life were but a dream, I'd have a heart to give. You'd see right through my scheme: chasing the innocent. But I'm a shattered mess; therefore no good for you. But I can't stay away; I'm chasing after you, 'cause I'm a hopeless fool. How many times do I have to tell myself it'll never work? You're into someone else. I can't let go, no matter what I'm told... How many times until I finally see you'd never want somebody who's like me? I can't give up, no matter how I try. I should go ahead and say goodbye. If life were but a dream, you'd show me how to live. I'd let my walls fall down. Freely to you I'd give; I'd give my heart to you, but it has been in two. I'll stay the shattered mess no matter what I do."

As the music fades, so does the video, and I'm left staring at the screen of my phone in amazement. He can sing. Really sing. And play. Really play.

There's a firm knock on my window, startling me to the point that the keys and my phone are suddenly released from my hands and fall to the floor of my mom's Mercedes. The oversensitive car alarms immediately upon feeling the key hit the floor. Just in case, I decide to let it alarm, then look around for whoever knocked. I'm being ridiculous; it has to be Mom. No one else would knock. But then, to my horror, I peer into the steely-green eyes of the same boy I was watching in the video. How long was he standing there? Did he see what I was looking at?

No!

I can't fight the glare that instantly comes to my face, nor would I. He mirrors my expression as he raises his hands, showing me that he has a legitimate reason for me to open the door. Where is my mother? I look past him, searching for her as if he could possibly have harmed her and used her groceries as a way to come and bother me. Ridiculous. But I'm still looking for her.

"Are you going to open the door, ABC," he says sarcastically, "or would you like me to place these bags on top of the car?"

Presence of mind returns and I scramble to unlock the doors. Desperately trying to recover from the shock of the video, I try for a quick comeback to his snide question. "Did you lock my mom in the back room somewhere and steal her groceries so you could come out here to bug me?"

"You know me so well, ABC," he sneers, setting the groceries on the seat behind me, "but not this time." Then a sudden chill runs down my spine before I even understand why, and warm breath tickles the back of my neck. "What?" Chase says near my ear in a low and uncharacteristically soft voice. Slowly, I raise my head and look up into the mirror. His moss-green eyes, which appear darker now than even a moment ago, instantly catch mine. I can't seem to tear them away from his gaze. "Were you too busy watching my video to come in and say hi?"

I decide to play innocent. I struggle to find my voice for a moment - why? - but am finally able to say, albeit quietly, "What video?"

Chase's humor-filled eyes respond to my question before he does. They become smaller, showing that he's smiling. My gaze lowers to his lips, and I find myself studying them. The corners are lifted into a smile that appears genuine, and his lips are slightly parted, displaying teeth. My eyes remain fixed on his smile as my heart begins to act as if it's in a race and is set on winning. It's ridiculously gorgeous.

Wait, what? No!

His eyes are intense as he continues to stare into mine. I still can't seem to take my eyes away from the mirror.

Disliking this strange sensation of butterflies in my belly and a racing heart, I clear my throat. "Um, so..."

"You're a very unconvincing liar," he says, retreating to gather more groceries.

"That's a good thing."

"Thank you very much for bringing out the groceries, Chase," I hear my mother say. "Sorry I'd forgotten the eggs. I trust Abigail kept you company."

"It's my pleasure, Mrs. Coulson," Chase says with a smile. "And I could have gotten the eggs for you, but I enjoyed talking with your daughter." My mind returns to the conversation we just had regarding lying. He seems to do it so effortlessly. "I'd better get back inside."

"Yes, we'll see you soon, sweetheart," Mom says. She seems so enamored of him, and it makes me sick. "Take care."

"You too, ma'am. Abigail." He nods to us, then turns to leave. I'm left puzzled as to what that feeling was that I was experiencing just a moment before Mom returned.

♥ • ❤ • ♥

After taking my seat in the youth services building, I scan the room again. I haven't seen Claire yet. I'm both excited and nervous. Excited because her parents are coming to church, but nervous because I'm not sure what to expect. Claire has never really talked about them other than to say that they burnt her previous bible when they found it.

The time on the large screen above the stage says we have one minute remaining to find our seats. I've made sure to sit in a seat belonging to an empty row for Sierra, Mandy and Devon when they arrive, and just in case Claire would still like to sit with us.

My friends soon arrive. Sierra sits on my left while Mandy claims the seat on my right, and Devon sits beside her. When I see Claire and her parents walk through the doors in the back, I call them over. Claire, though, seems hesitant for a moment, but brings her parents to sit with us anyway.

This week's message is entitled, "The Almighty's Shadow." Pastor David begins the sermon by reading Psalm 91 from the screen. A few of us have our bibles out and are reading it with him. But then, when he reaches, "Surely he will save you from the fowler's snare," he pauses, turns to face us and is silent for several seconds. He begins to pace. "Repeat this after me, if you would, but I'm going to change it up a little bit." He gestures to the people in the media booth and, almost immediately, Psalm 91 reappears on the screen. "All right, so it's simple. We're just going to change every 'you' to either 'I' or 'me', and every 'your' to 'my'. Ready?"

A great portion of the other teens, including Devon and Sierra, respond with "Yeah!" and "Ready!"

"I love the enthusiasm I see in this church," Pastor David says, his green eyes brightening as he smiles. It brings me back to earlier at Publix, and the simple thought of those specific green eyes and incredible smile cause the butterflies to return. They rush in as if they know they were never invited. Ugh! "It rocks. But anyway, let's go. Repeat after me, please. 'Surely He will save me from the fowler's snare, and from the deadly pestilence. He will cover me with His feathers, and under His wings I will find refuge; His faithfulness will be my shield and rampart. I will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday." He speaks slowly enough for us to repeat, saying only eight or so words at a time.

"A thousand may fall at my side," he continues, "ten thousand at my right hand, but it will not come near me. I will only observe with my eyes, and see the punishment of the wicked.'" He stops again. "What an amazing promise. I'd like you to really think about that guys... about what it means."

"It's my favorite passage," Mandy says. "It's our family scripture, actually."

"You know," the pastor continues, "I received a letter by email just recently... maybe about two days ago, actually, from a young man who is struggling to believe in God's love. He doesn't attend this church, but I'm not going to name names. He's actually what inspired today's message, as I'm positive he's not the only one with this insecurity and the question that was asked in the email. I'm hoping he's watching online now. Anyway, he explained that his imperfect past is probably what caused this internal struggle. Now, I don't remember his exact words, but the summary of them is this: 'Why am I different?' In fact, that's the subject of his email.

"You see, he basically feels as if he's somehow different than everyone else, as if God would choose everyone else before him, but not because of anything he might have done. When I was in my early teen years, I used to feel the same way, but it was because of the things I'd done. I had many reasons to feel as if God would suddenly drop me like a hot potato, so this part of his email puzzled me. It caused me to really think. He explained to me that his harsh past is what causes him to doubt God's existence, and that he used to be a Christian but can no longer call himself one.

"He quoted Psalm 91 and asked how it could be true. He feels as if the prayers he said as a child were never answered by God because it was 'too late' when he was removed from the situation he was in at such a young age. The damage had already been done, scars were left and his belief in God's goodness just disappeared. Or, at least, his belief in God's love for him. He was so beat up by the world that he lost belief in the only One he should trust with all his heart.

"All I could do for a while was just sit with the laptop open, staring at the empty space where I'd later typed my reply. Honestly, I didn't know what to say. It was obvious that this young man has been through a lot in his life, so I wanted to handle the subject with care and really concentrate on the response I gave him. But you know what I told him? I told him that God is always on time and that it's never too late. Not for anyone, and that includes him.

"I told him that yes, I do understand, not because I'm a pastor and it's what I'm 'supposed' to say, but because I'm a human just like he is. I know what it feels like to sit waiting in silence after earnest prayers, expecting God to perform a crazy miracle when and where I want Him to. I understand that sometimes we just feel... we feel as if we're being ignored. We can feel as if we're being given the silent treatment because of something we've done, or even just because of who we are.

"But listen to this. I'd like to see everyone's eyes so I know you're paying attention. Okay, good. If you get nothing else from today's message, let it be this that you receive: There are no exceptions to the truth that God's love is for everyone. He created each and every one of us, and we're all incredibly special to Him. He proved that by sending His only Son, Jesus, to die in your place. He suffered so you wouldn't have to. It breaks His heart to know that there are people in this world who either don't understand, don't believe or can't accept the fact that they are loved by God.

"And I know it breaks the heart of God to see girls, boys, women and men giving themselves away in search of love. They are in search of someone who will love them when that Someone has been patiently waiting right there with open arms all along.

"I know I don't usually give you all homework assignments, but this week I'd like you to consider the promises in Psalm 91. Reread it if you have to, and come back and share which part of Psalm 91 is your favorite. Sound good?"