It’s amazing how opposite we are. I am a perfectionist and a neat freak. I say what I think people want to hear, and I hide what I’m really feeling. Ariele is so full of life, she lights up the room. She’s extremely funny and cheerful, celebrating every moment of life. She always manages to crack my frown, figure out my problems and decode my weird moods. I hate to admit it, but even though I am one year older, she knows more about what really matters than I could ever hope to. There was one experience where I really found out how important it is to take each day as a blessing, and how to make the best of it.
Only a year and a half after Ariele came to live with us, my father accepted a new job as head of a private school. The benefits were great, but the only problem was that we would be forced to move across the country to Boston. I was going to have to leave all the people that I had grown to love and care about. I felt helpless. My life was a roller-coaster ride of mixed emotions, and I was stuck aboard, unable to make decisions or get off. But the one person who really helped me through my pain was my stepsister, Ariele. She had the best attitude from the start. She had just left her life in New York and moved when our parents got married. And although she had grown to love her new home, she realized that Boston was good for the family.
A few months later, after selling our home and packing up, we drove with our parents from St. Louis to New Hampshire, where both of us would attend camp. We had to leave for the summer, knowing we wouldn’t be back for a long time. But the ride across the country was one of the most memorable few days. We were on the road in a stuffed minivan, filled with luggage and food, but Ariele and I loved it.
Because the car ride was so long, our parents went out of their way to stop at places to show us some of the country. At Niagara Falls, after observing the magnificent display, we decided to get even closer to the edge and climb to the point where people get soaked by the freezing waters. As Ariele and I neared this breathtaking waterfall, and as I watched my sister laugh with joy and shriek from exhilaration, I saw everything in a new light. I hadn’t been living each day fully with the excitement or joy that Ariele demonstrated to me.
With soaked jeans and high spirits, we climbed even higher, so that the foggy mist blinded us, and we huddled together to keep ourselves warm. Her shaking arms hugged me, and she told me that she loved me. Then she stood before the mighty waterfall, eyes closed, and arms spread out wide, to let the water soak her . . . giggling as dripping strands of hair tickled her face. She looked so beautiful. There was something so magical about that moment that it will always remain in my memory.
As I looked at her, I thought of how drastically my view changed when Ariele came into my life, and I remembered all the things she urged me to try. There were so many times she made me feel like a little kid, just having fun like the time in a park a few months ago. We went on a walk and passed by a large, sloppy puddle of mud created from the rain the day before. She started playing in it, covering her hands and legs with the mud, and urged me to do the same. I hesitated, because there were so many people around, but then I thought, Who cares? So, together, we slipped and slid in that mud and had the best time.
I thought of the many times we’ve been at the mall, and I’ve seen something I have really liked but didn’t want to spend my money for it. Her mouth will turn up in a mischievous grin, and she will say, “You only live once!” Then I end up buying the shirt or CD that I wanted so badly. And during these moments, I can’t help realizing how much I owe her for giving me another shot at life, another chance.
Before Ariele moved in, I was so scared of risking things and too shy to express myself as I wanted to. I was reluctant to step out of my preteen mind and enjoy those little pleasures. Even though she may not be aware of it, she has taught me that the person who risks nothing, will gain nothing. Pain and disappointment may be avoided, but one will simply never grow or learn. Without risks, one misses out on the incredible opportunities and experiences that make life worth living.
I owe everything to her. She is my better half and my best friend in the world.
So whenever we fight about our shared room, boys or simply how we’ve been acting toward each other, I remember all the times we’ve spent together and realize that no matter how hard and impossible it seems at times, we always find a way to work it out. And through all of our family ups and downs, we’ll be in it and stay in it— together. Two sisters who bring out the very best in each other, every single day . . . and in every possible way.
Miriam Bard, fourteen
The Gift
One day a handsome black tomcat appeared at our back door. His coat had a white bib and four snowy paws, making him look like he was wearing a tuxedo. His tail was as crooked as a corkscrew.
My four-year-old brother Daniel and I had never had a pet. We both instantly fell in love with the gentle black and white cat. All that first afternoon, the three of us played together. When it got dark, we begged our parents to let our new friend come inside so we could feed him. Mom shook her head. “It might confuse him,” she explained. “This cat looks too healthy to be a stray. He must have a home already.”
But the next morning, the tuxedo cat was still there. He waited patiently by the front door like a butler at a mansion. “Yea!” said Daniel. “He wants to be our cat!”
It did seem like he was telling us something. He stuck around all day, playing with Daniel and me outside. When we went into the house, he jumped up on the barbecue and watched us through the window. The last thing I saw that night were his green eyes, staring in at me.
The next day, our parents warned us that we needed to try our best to find his owners. My mom helped me make a flyer that said “Found: black and white cat with crooked tail” with our phone number on it. I drew a picture of the cat on each one and we hung them around the neighborhood.
The second day, I named him Alley, as in “alley cat.” The third day, our dad and mom let us put some food out for him. The fourth day, our parents broke down and we got to bring him inside.
Alley let me carry him like a baby, from room to room. Daniel built LEGO castles all around him. He followed us all around the house and at bedtime he jumped on each of our beds while we got tucked in, as if he was saying good night to us.
Alley was a dream pet.
Our family woke up from the dream about two weeks after we adopted him. That was the day a big, tattooed man appeared at our door holding one of our “Found Cat” flyers. Before anyone could say anything, Alley strolled over to the man and rubbed on his leg. It was obvious that they knew each other.
“My name’s Mark Johnson,” he announced, casually picking Alley up. “I see you’ve met my only roommate, Dewey. He kinda wanders when I’m out of town. Can I offer you good people a reward for watching him?”
“No,” Dad said with a sigh. “It was a pleasure to have him as our guest.” The rest of us were completely silent. At the door, Mr. Johnson turned back and faced us kids. That’s when he must have seen the tears in my eyes. “Wow. I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realize you kids had gotten so attached. Hey, I only live a few blocks away. If you two would ever like to visit old Dewey . . .”
“His name’s not Dewey!” Daniel yelled at the top of his lungs. “It’s Alley!” He ran sobbing to his room.
Mr. Johnson’s eyes widened. The full meaning of his visit had sunk in at last. He slipped out awkwardly. Over his shoulder was slung Alley. Alley’s unreadable green eyes looked back at me all the way down the walk.
For days, I found myself staring out of the window at the barbecue as if Alley might suddenly rematerialize there. Daniel went through spells of bursting into tears. Our parents tried to console us by keeping our family schedule full and entertaining. They even talked about going to the pound to pick out another pet.
Then one day, I heard Daniel yell, “He’s back!” We all hurried into the family room. Sure enough, Alley was there by the door nuzzling Daniel, his crooked tail lashing Daniel’s legs.
/> He had found his way home.
My heart was jumping with joy. Then Dad said, “Daniel. Sarah. He can’t stay. He’s not ours, remember?”
Daniel and I both looked at him like he was crazy. “But Dad . . .” Daniel began.
“Do we have to tell that Mr. Johnson guy?” I asked, looking into my dad’s eyes.
Dad nodded his head. Even though I could tell it made him sad to do it, he looked up the name and left a message on Mr. Johnson’s machine. “Your cat is here again,” Dad said. “Would you please stop by and pick him up?”
I felt like this would be the last time we would ever see Alley. I figured Mr. Johnson would lock him up in his house. For the rest of the day we played with him; making cat fortresses out of cardboard boxes, dangling strings around corners, petting him and feeding him treats. Alley went along with it all, just like he expected that kind of treatment and wanted nothing less.
When Mr. Johnson arrived at 8:00, I had made a decision. I waited in the hall behind Daniel and our dad, holding Alley in my arms. As soon as Dad opened the door, I said to Mr. Johnson, “I think he wants to live with us.”
“Sarah . . .” Dad began.
But Mr. Johnson nodded at me, letting me know it was all right. Then he squatted down, so that he would be at the same level as Daniel and me.
“You know, Sarah, I think you’re right. He seems to have made a decision. I think he must like kids,” he said with a wink. He set down a small cardboard box. “I didn’t come to take him. I just came by to bring you these.” Inside was a bowl and several cans of cat food.
“You’re letting us have him?” I asked, stunned. “Like a gift?”
“Well, kind of,” he said with a shrug. A tattoo-scrawled arm darted out as he petted Alley. “Bye, Dewey. I’ll miss you. But I have a feeling you’ll be in good hands.”
And, just like that, Mr. Johnson was gone. None of us ever saw him again.
From then on, the tuxedo cat was ours. In no time at all, he became a respected member of our family. He was a fierce hunter, yet he remained extremely gentle with us. Whatever room the family was in, Alley was there. Whenever Daniel and I were ready for bed, Alley popped in to say goodnight.
Sometimes I wonder what made our cat decide to stop being Dewey and want to become Alley. We will never really know, but it gave us all an example of what giving is all about. Because the truth of the matter was that Mr. Johnson hadn’t given his pet away.
Alley had given himself to us.
Sarah Strickland
As told by Craig Strickland
9
ON CHOICES
I don’t wish I were in a different family
Or pick my friends by their popularity.
I don’t change my looks so people will like me
Or make fun of people who are different.
I won’t do drugs with you
Or lose my virginity at a young age.
This is how I choose to be.
Do you know why?
I know right from wrong, and choose to do right.
I choose to be me.
Nicole Koah, eleven
Hidden in Plain Sight
The real acid test of courage is to be just your honest self when everybody is trying to be like somebody else.
Andrew Jensen
It was a Thursday, and school was almost out. Our teacher was out of the classroom. Our homework sat on our desks. I fiddled with my pen while I listened to Joel and Bryan talk about a certain group of girls that we all knew.
“I like them,” Bryan said, “but none of them would ever try drugs or even drink.”
So what? Nobody does that stuff, I thought, but I didn’t say it.
Joel just nodded.
“Actually,” Bryan continued, “Lisa wants to try them, so she’s talking to me about it. Everyone thinks I’m the biggest druggie in the school.” He paused. “Well, basically I am.”
My pen fell out of my hand and bounced on the floor. I stared at him, waiting for him to laugh, to smile—do anything—just to show that he was kidding. No one our age did drugs. No one did drugs except for those huddled people on the sidewalks who were so lost in their minds that they didn’t even know who or where they were anymore. Bryan’s mouth stayed in a straight line, though. No smile tugged at the corners.
“We’re meeting at the park tonight,” Bryan continued. “I’m not gonna charge her anything this first time. I just want her to like it. I’m bringing some friends, too. Joel, Lance, you wanna come?”
“Sure,” Joel said. My whole body locked up. What could I say? What should I say?
Then, the door flung open and our teacher reentered the room. We all turned to our homework and began scribbling.
I turned and looked at Joel. No, I thought, this isn’t happening. I always knew that Joel wasn’t the perfect child, but who was? He certainly wasn’t like Bryan, who ditched school, stole and even did drugs. But Joel had agreed to go to the park. I had known his family since I was born. He was always smiling, cracking jokes, and we hung out together almost every day. Yet he expected me to go to the park with him.
Don’t worry about it, I said to myself. My parents won’t let me go to the park that late at night anyway.
That night after I had finished dinner, I sat on the couch watching TV. The doorbell rang. When I opened the door, Joel was standing there. “What’s up, Lance?” he asked.
“Not much,” I said.
“So, are you coming to the park tonight?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I have to ask my parents.”
“No, you don’t,” he said, making a face as though he had just eaten something rotten. “Ask if I can spend the night and we’ll just sneak out.”
I frowned. “Why don’t you just spend the night, and we don’t sneak out? We’ll have more fun here, anyway.”
He groaned. “Well, I should have known that you wouldn’t want to do anything slightly risky. I guess I’ll find someone else.” He turned and began walking away.
“No, no,” I grabbed his arm. “I’ll go.”
He smiled.
It was ten-thirty. Lying in bed, I stared at the ceiling. In my mind, I kept thinking of ways to phrase the question, Aren’t you surprised that Bryan does drugs? Or, Do you think many kids are doing them? Or even, Do you do drugs, Joel? I couldn’t be sure now that I even knew my lifelong friend anymore. Am I the only one who didn’t know about Bryan’s drug habit? Was I the only one who thinks that it matters? I turned and stared at Joel. Is there a side of him that I didn’t even know about? His sleeping bag ruffled as he crawled out.
“Let’s go,” he whispered. I opened the window, grimacing at the sound.
It was ten-fifty. We walked until we were about one hundred yards from the park. A heavy silence laced the air. I glanced at Joel. He was staring toward the dark playground.
“We don’t have to go, Joel,” I said.
“What’s wrong with you?” he turned and faced me. “You worry about everything. We’re not little kids anymore, Lance. It’s time to realize that not everything adults tell us is true.”
He turned and walked forward. I followed.
When we arrived at the playground, slides and swings were the only things there. I glanced at my watch. Ten fifty-seven. “Maybe they aren’t coming after all,” I said.
Joel groaned and kicked the sand into the air.
I stuffed my hands into my pockets and gazed out at the lights in town. I looked back at Joel. We had come to this very park so many years before. We had spent endless hours on the swings. He always boosted himself so high into the air. I wanted to be like him, to be able to swing that high, but I couldn’t do it. He was the risk taker. I looked at him again. I guess it’s only fitting that he’ll take the big risk tonight, I thought. It’s just his nature.
A laugh erupted through the silence. Joel and I turned.
“It came from the creek,” Joel said. We ran through the forest toward the water. We st
opped when we got to the dense trees. I squinted to try to find footprints that led somewhere. Where was the brown, wooden picnic table that I had eaten lunch on so many times? Indented lines in the dirt caused by the legs of the table showed that it had been dragged deeper into the trees. I looked at Joel and saw that his eyes were focused on the tracks as well. “Come on,” he whispered.
We followed the tracks until we reached a clearing surrounded by trees.
A white, powdery substance covered a mirror that lay on the picnic table. Jim, the kid I did a book report with in third grade, lay on the ground next to the picnic table. He trembled as if he were having a seizure. Beads of sweat lined his face. He squeezed a straw that he held in his hand. His eyes stared up into the sky. They looked as if a layer of Saran Wrap covered them. My eyes darted around. The people I grew up with were passing a pipe around in a circle. Robert, the first kid who talked to me in preschool, was taking shots of alcohol.
Bryan approached me. He squinted at me with his red eyes. A smell that made me want to gag surrounded him. “Come with me, Lance,” he said. “We’re taking some pipe hits.”
I looked around me. This is reality, isn’t it? I thought. Everyone was doing it, and I never even knew about it. This is what I’ve been missing out on.
I followed Bryan. The kids in the circle turned and looked at me. I stared back. These were the kids I had played with since preschool.
Something tapped my shoulder. I turned and saw Joel.
“Where are you going?” he asked. I pointed at the circle. “Let’s go,” he whispered. I shook my head.
“You were right, Joel. Everybody we’ve ever known is here. This is just the way it is.”
Stories About Facing Challenges, Realizing Dreams and Making a Difference Page 19