One of my leachers once asked my class what our favorite memory was. My leacher asked for the moment in which “you fell the best; you fell that you had the world in the palms of your hand.” Some described amazing awards; other described winning a tournament. My answer, however, invited giggles and hesitant smiles. Why? Because I felt the best when I first learned how to ride my bike at thirteen. I didn’t mind my classmates’ stares and mockery, because I knew there was more to the story.

My elder sister and I shared a typical sisterly relationship: we couldn’t stand each other. I was an annoyance to her. Any sort of conversation we had usually ended up fighting. Gradually, I started to learn to be totally indifferent; perhaps the silent treatment would get more approval. I was wrong. We soon fell into a sad pattern. I avoided her, and she ignored me.   Deep inside, it hurt. So that was how it was between us. She was only a sister in name. I truly believed that we would forever be apart, two housemates without conversation, two strangers without warmth.

I still remember the day I learned to ride a bike. I had received the bike that Christmas, which was great, until I realized that I had no idea how to ride it. My mom had long abandoned any attempt to teach me. I had proven to be a frustrating student. I took it upon myself to learn, a little bit each day. It was no different. I was coming to the end of my daily one-hour torture(折磨). I was so frustrated that I threw my bike aside and began to cry.

I guess that was what caused my sister to come outside.

“I made it,” I shouted with excitement.

It was 1st January, the first day of the year and a holiday for me. What luck! I decided to withdraw some money from the bank. The bank person, an elderly gentleman with a white beard, replied indifferently as usual to my polite “Happy New Year”. He nodded and I sat in front of him.

Minutes passed but he didn’t raise his head.

Then very hesitantly I put my form and booklet in front of him. He was busy filling up entries in his register. After a few minutes he took my form and from his cabinet he took out a very thick file, from which he started filling in my details, I sat there wondering why we had computerized banking if we were still filling in forms and registers.

After waiting for a few more minutes, in which I showed all signs of being impatient, I asked him if my work was done. The moment I said the words, I felt as if a bomb had fallen on him. He shouted, “Nothing is done; it will take time!”

Just then I saw his morning cup of tea which had been lying there for the last ten minutes, untouched. The tea had turned almost cold while he was doing his work. Suddenly I felt what this man, who had been working at this counter for the last God-knows-how-many years, must be feeling when customers like me come who are always in a hurry to get their work done. We do not even feel the need to thank them for being there. He must be feeling so anxious that “Here comes another person who will push me for doing his work first.”

Thinking of this, I told him, “Sir, you please have your tea. I am not in a hurry.”

What he said really touched my heart.

Asad was a 13-year-old boy who was very honest and hardworking. Recently, he had entered a new school, so he had no friends yet. On Monday morning, he was nearly late for school. The night before, his family attended his cousin’s wedding and reached home late, which was why he couldn’t get up on time as usual.

At school, Asad could not pay attention to anything and wanted the bell to ring so that he could buy something to eat. After a few hours, when the bell rang, Asad quickly opened his schoolbag to find his money, but just then he remembered that he had left for school in a hurry in the morning and forgotten to take money. He looked under his books, hoping to find some money but there was nothing.

Not knowing what to do, he walked out of the classroom and sat on a bench in front of the canteen. He saw a few of his classmates there, among them was Fahad. He was one of the richest kids in his class, but he was a very arrogant(傲慢的)boy who thought everyone else was a loser. But as Asad was new, he didn’t know much about Fahad.

When he went towards Fahad and asked if he could borrow some money for his lunch, Fahad laughed a lot and said, “I knew you were a loser, maybe a beggar?” Fahad laughed out so loud that other kids also heard and made fun of the situation. He didn’t answer Fahad, and slowly walked back towards an empty bench.

When he reached the bench, he noticed something lying near it. It was a wallet. He picked it up and recognized it as Fahad’s, as he remembered Fahad showing it to his friends and telling that his uncle bought it for him from the UK. There was quite a lot of money inside for a kid.

At first, Asad wanted to keep it a secret and punished Fahad.

Then Fahad said, “Why are you giving back?”

”Go Denny, go!” my teammates yelled.

The cheering from my classmates grew louder as I reached the final turn. I found myself in the lead. I knew better than to look back at the runners behind me. That would slow me down. Besides, I could hear them breathing. I launched into my sprint (冲刺).

I pumped my arms harder as I pounded down the straightaway. It made my legs go faster. I don’t know what strange connection in the body makes that work, but it does. I threw my chest forward into the string. It dropped across my body. I thudded to a stop.

I was breathing hard, but at least I was still on my feet.

“You made it in sixty-eight seconds,” Coach Setlich told me. ”That’s good enough for third place overall. Nice job, Denise.”

I smiled and nodded, since I didn’t have enough breath to answer. I was exhausted but I had to walk slowly around so my muscles wouldn’t tighten up.

A few minutes later, Coach Setlich found me resting on the high-jump mats. She looked worried. “Denise, I need you to run the relay. Tracy pulled a muscle in the long jump.”

I pushed up onto my elbows. ”I’m not a sprinter.”

“Not the sprint relay. The medley (混合接力). I want you to run the last leg (赛程). Amanda and Cindy, each one hundred meters. Megan , two hundred meters, one lap (圈).”

I looked at her with horror. ”You want me to run four hundred meters again?” I screamed.

She nodded. “We have a shot at second or third in the team standings if your relay does well.” the coach’s eyes glowed. Second place may not sound exciting, but we had been near the bottom of the standings all season. Now in the league championships, we were definitely showing improvement. I struggled to my feet. ”Couldn’t I run the two-hundred-meter leg instead?”

Coach shook her head. “The other girls on your relay team are sprinters and they don’t understand the pacing for the longer distance.” she said.

I followed Coach Setlich to the edge of the track.

A second runner came by, getting ahead of me.

Mr. Tai, the teacher in charge of athletics at SUKK Temarah, had just celebrated his 58th birthday — an age at which many would think seriously of retiring. However, it was not so with Mr. Tai. He had an outstanding record of athletic achievements in leading the school’s sports team. Some of the students he had coached had become national runners or even coaches themselves. The school board agreed he continued to work as they did not want to lose the services of someone who had successfully led the school athletics team to the finals of the National Athletics Championships.

In the year before, however, the school team did not get as many medals in the National Athletics Championships as expected. Mr. Tai’s hopes were fired this year by two promising star athletics, Farid and Hassan, who happened to be twins.

In the school’s sports meet, Farid broke the school’s twenty-year record for the 100 metres event. His brother, Hassan, was just a second behind. Since Hassan had an ankle injury, Mr. Tai decided to submit only Farid’s name to the finals of the National Athletics Championships. On the day he submitted the results of the best runner in the school, he mistakenly wrote Hassan’s name instead.

When Mr. Tai received the list of the finalists in the 100 metres event in the National Athletics Championships, he realized his mistake. However, it was too late to inform the sports secretariat (秘书处). Besides, pride also did not allow him to admit his mistake to Farid. He decided to inform his brother, Hassan, and start training him in the final preparations for this event. When Farid learned that he was not a finalist, he could not believe his ears. Even though he was glad that his brother had qualified, he was quite disappointed. To make matters worse, Mr. Tai did not give him any reasons for his not being allowed to take part in the finals. Realizing that his hopes for athletic glory were destroyed, Farid felt extremely sad.

Seeing Farid’s unhappiness, his best friend, John, pulled him aside to have a talk.

Hassan did not do well in the National Athletics Championships.