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When I was six, I played my first soccer game. It was a real game, complete with coaches, uniforms, and parents cheering from the sidelines.

Our two teams, Team One and Team Two, seemed pretty evenly matched, at least in the beginning. The first period ended without a single goal scored by either side. We were all still learning how to play the game properly, and our inexperience ran through this part. We stumbled over the ball, tripped over our own feet, and often completely missed our kicks. But what mattered most was that we were having fun, pure and simple.

The second quarter brought a significant change in the game. Our coach decided to pull out most of our starting players and put in the substitutes (替补), except for me—I was left guarding the goal. On the other side, Team Two’s coach decided to keep their best players on the field, which made things even more challenging for us. It seemed that winning suddenly become essential, even for us six-year-olds.

Team Two started to rule the game, and I found myself surrounded by their players whenever they came near our goal. I was determined to do my best, but it was tough. I couldn’t match the skills of three or four other really good players. Team Two began to score, one goal after another. I threw myself in front of the ball with all the energy I could gather, trying desperately to stop them but in vain.

The pressure was mounting, and I could feel my frustration building with every goal that slipped past me. I shouted, I ran, and I dove, but they kept scoring. I gave it everything I had, but it seemed useless.

My parents were there on the sidelines, and I could see them in the crowd. As the game progressed, I could see the change in my father’s expression. He had been urging me to try harder, yelling advice and encouragement from the sidelines, but now he seemed different. I could see the pain in his eyes, the pain he felt seeing me struggle. It made me want to cry.

注意：1. 续写词数应为150左右;

2. 请按如下格式在答题卡的相应位置作答。

Team Two scored their fourth goal, and it was half-time break.

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In that moment, what my father said meant the world to me.

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On a Sunday morning, Mom told Roger that Grandpa was on his way over. Roger grinned and tapped his drums. Grandpa once drummed in a band. He and Roger always had fun playing together. Mom added that some of Grandpa’s joints were hurting him today and he needed a rest. But Roger thought they could play for just a little while.

Roger practiced all morning. Finally, Dad’s car pulled up in front of the house. The car door opened, and Grandpa stepped out. Roger waved to Grandpa from his bedroom window. “Listen to this!” Taking a deep breath, he raised his drumsticks and began. He rocked. He rolled. He built to a lively and cheerful finish and ended with a crash of cymbals, just like Grandpa had taught him. Leaping up, Roger raced outside to Grandpa. “It was wonderful.” Grandpa said, giving Roger a hug. Then he went inside.

Sitting on the couch, Grandpa talked with Mom and played with baby Lucy. When Lucy threw her toy on the floor, Grandpa reached for it. He tried to pick it up, but the toy fell out of his hand. He tried again. The same thing happened. Roger hurried over to help and asked Grandpa to play drum together. “I’m sorry, Roger.” he apologized, “Not now.” So disappointed was Roger that he left without uttering a single word.

After lunch, Roger went to his room to get his skateboard. Grandpa was already inside, standing near the drum set. He picked up a drumstick and began to play. Tap! Tap! The drumstick clattered to the floor. Roger ran over, scooped it up and held it to the Grandpa. Grandpa rubbed his hand, his fingers red and swollen. “I can’t play today, Roger.” he said. In low spirits, Grandpa left the room. Roger got lost in thought.

Later, an idea flashed through Roger’s mind.

Roger and Dad walked up to Grandpa, carrying the drum with a pedal.

A Bowl of Beef Soup

At noon the rush hour had passed. There were few guests in the snack bar. It was not crowded. When the boss was about to take a break to read a newspaper, in came an old lady and a little boy. Their clothes were quite old but clean. Their signs proclaimed them to be hungry.

“How much money is a bowl of beef soup?” the grandma sat down, counted the money in her purse twice and ordered a bowl of beef soup. The grandma pushed the bowl to the little boy, who swallowed (吞咽) his saliva (水),staring at his grandma and mumbling, “Grandma, did you really have lunch ?” “Of course.” His grandma kept her eyes lower and chewed (咀嚼) a piece of radish (萝卜泡菜) slowly. Very quickly, the little boy wolfed down the meal.

Seeing this, the boss went over to them and said, “Old lady, congratulations, you are lucky to have the free food, for you are our 100th guest.”

Afterwards, over a month or more, one day, the small boy squatted (蹲) across the snack bar, where he seemed to be counting something, which shocked the boss when he happened to look out the office window.

When the small boy saw a guest walk into the snack bar, he would put a small stone into the circle he drew, but the lunch time had almost passed, the small stones he put into the circle were hardly 50.

The boss fell into worry,

Mrs. Johnson lost her husband to cancer after months of failed treatment. She spent every penny she had saved working as a teacher, hoping her husband’s illness wouldn’t return. She only had $5 left in her bank account and didn’t know how to survive. She was just living on leftovers and junk. What’s worse, she hadn’t paid the house rent.

Standing before the ATM, Mrs. Johnson put in her card and entered her password. In no time, she saw a five-dollar bill slide out of the machine. The old lady was so focused on the dollar bill that she barely looked at the screen.

Holding a bag full of about-outdated food items, the old lady slowly walked towards her house. Upon reaching her apartment door, she saw an envelope with her name on it in the mailbox.

Once she entered the house and kept the grocery bag on the kitchen counter, she slid the envelope out and opened it. It was an invitation for reunion from the school where she had taught all her life, but she didn’t feel like going there.

After having dinner, the old lady picked up her phone, hoping to find a job. A message caught her attention, which was a notice from her bank regarding her cash withdrawal. She read the message and was about to exit it when the remaining account balance caught her attention. A hundred thousand dollars! ! !

The next day, Mrs. Johnson visited the bank, thinking this was a big mistake. After checking, the bank told her the records showed that Norma Tyler transferred the money to her account. There was no mistake.

However, Mrs. Johnson didn’t know any Norma Tyler! After thinking about all her friends, relatives and acquaintances, Mrs. Johnson could only think of one Norma— one of the students who never performed well in class. Mrs. Johnson thought of how hard she worked with Norma. She wanted the girl to get good grades, but nothing worked. No matter how hard she tried to teach new concepts to the teenage girl, she would never understand a single word.