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cn u cum 2 my pRT satdy?

by Angela M. Baker-Bridge  
10/24/2007 / Teen Issues

jst got hom. wl ask bout prt satdy. let u no n an hour.

"Stop texting and look at me when I'm talking!" demanded Tiffany's mother.

"Why? You got something new to say?" scoffed Tiffany, walking right past her mother.

"Oh yeah," she yelled back without turning, "there's a party Saturday night at Jeff's. I wanna go."

jst drpd d bomb. 5 4 3 2 1 :0

"This Saturday? No way. It's the Family Reunion!"

"You're so lame. Why do I have to go?" Tiffany shouted, slamming her backpack on the kitchen counter.

"I don't know half those people. The ones my age are geeks. I'm not going."

"Enough. You've known about this for months. Why must there always be an argument? You're part of this family you're going! We don't ask much of you Tiffany. When's the last time you ate dinner home? If you pull any kind of stunt, you're grounded the rest of the summer."

This time Tiffany's mother slammed the kitchen counter. Foolishly, she used her fist, hurting herself.

Furious, Tiffany grabbed her backpack, preparing to leave.

"And another thing young lady," continued her mother, "that make-up and hair's being toned down, piercings stay home, and I'm shopping with you for an acceptable outfit."

Hysterical, Tiffany lashed back, "I hate being part of this stupid family. You want to know why I don't do stuff with you? Because all you do is criticize me! You're tired of arguing with me? Well, I'm sick and tired of listening to your nagging. My friends like me just the way I am, unlike you. Nothing I do is ever good enough. You're always trying to change me, comparing me to your up-tight relatives. I don't want to be like them or you! Once I'm eighteen I'm s-o-o-o out of here."

With that, Tiffany stormed out of the kitchen, heading upstairs.

nt goin gud. h8 my mom. wn 2 run awy. nd ideas hw

Staring out the kitchen window, her mother prayed, Lord, what happened to my sweet little Tiffany? Where's her long beautiful hair? Why does she wear that gel-spiked helmet? Hide her flawless skin? The hopes I had for her the potential wasted. Lord, where's my baby? How do I get her back? I don't know what to do I'm giving her to you manifest yourself in Tiffany."

gud. il go thru my wndw. mt u dwn d st 12pm. ive $450.

At midnight, Tiffany quietly slipped out the house, walking to the agreed location.

i'm hre. whr r u?

ans me n tel me w^

ur scaring me.

ur an hour l8 n no wrd.

ans me

Shivering and shaken, Tiffany picked-up her duffle bag and walked home. It was harder climbing up to her bedroom window than it had been getting down. Her mind and heart raced. Earlier she swore she'd never return to this pink palace. Now she longed for its sweet embrace.

im hom. ur really scaring me. sa somit!

Phone in hand, still dressed, Tiffany fell asleep on her bed. The message she awaited never arrived.

Hours later, her mother knocked. "Tiffany, can I come in? We need to talk."

"Not now Mom! Give me a break!" she moaned.

Opening the door, her mother walked in, sidestepping clothes, candy wrappers, soda cans. No wonder this room smells, that's not important now.

"Tiffany," her mother gulped, "I've got bad news."

"It's Daddy!" Tiffany cried. "Where's Daddy?"

"He's fine. It's Jeff. He died in a car accident last night around midnight. The police think he was text messaging while driving, lost control, crashed into a pole, dying instantly. The messages indicated he was meeting someone."

Tiffany was numb, then bewildered, finally guilt-ridden with grief. I killed him! He was reading and answering my messages. I KILLED MY BEST FRIEND!

She cried uncontrollably, her sobbing mother held her. The doorbell interrupted.

It was the Police. "We're tracing a cell message texted around midnight. The number's registered to this address."

"Oh?" responded Tiffany's mother. "What number?"


"That's ours, but no one used it that late," answered Tiffany's mother.

"We've proof madam. Please come with us."

"NO! I texted him," cried Tiffany, "asking for help. He died coming to rescue me not even knowing I loved him. I'll never let this happen again. I won't be ashamed* of those that love me or that I love, like you Mom, our family, and especially God. Forgive me?"


*Philippians 1:20 (NIV) "I eagerly expect and hope that I will in no way be ashamed, but will have sufficient courage so that now as always Christ will be exalted in my body, whether by life or by death."

Author's Note: Tiffany means "Manifestation of God"


Married to a minister for 30-yrs, Angela has two sons, a daughter-in-law, and two grandsons. She's passionately creative with a versatile portfolio. Out of hurt and pain, Angela writes from her heart and life. She touches others as she gives God the glory. She married a former pastor in '03.

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