“Howie! You can’t go in! Mom told us to avoid Mrs. Carrigan’s house at all costs! We can’t go in there,” Howie’s big brother, Archie, yelled at the boy who had entered the older woman’s yard upon seeing her Halloween decorations.

The little kid turned and looked at his two big brothers angrily. “But she put up decorations. She wants us to come in,” Howie said, pointing at the pumpkins in the yard and the trick-or-treat sign on her doorway.

“Come out, Howie! Let’s go! I think Mom thinks she’s a ... a witch,” his other big brother, Bobby, whispered the last part. “What? Are you afraid of her?” Howie laughed, knowing that his brothers would not like that. He saw their frowns, but his words were true. They were afraid. No one in the neighborhood went into Mrs. Carrigan’s house or even stayed close.

The old woman was strange. She only dressed in black and never brushed her hair. She couldn’t walk straight and never smiled at anyone, so people avoided her the few times she was seen outside. But Howie was not afraid. He was going to knock. The worst that could happen was being ignored or told to go away. Despite his big brothers’ words, he went up the tiny steps and rang the doorbell.

“Howie! Howie! No!” his big brothers whisper-yelled at him from the sidewalk, and Howie turned and put his finger to his mouth, signaling for them to shut up. But he saw their eyes widen and their faces pale even beneath the Halloween makeup they were all wearing. Howie felt something behind him and turned slowly, not knowing what to expect. He felt the cold air; he felt like ringing the bell was not a good idea.

The old woman was there, staring at him surprisedly. He saw her black clothes, and he knew precisely why everyone thought she was a witch. She looked like the ones in cartoons. But Howie squared his shoulders, raised his plastic pumpkin bucket, and said, “Trick or Treat!”

Mrs. Carrigan stared at him for a few seconds.

“Guys! Come here! There are lots of candies!” Howie shouted at the top of his lungs, waving his hands.

Her pale face stood out against the blackness of her hair. She looked much younger than her fifteen years, a worn coat hanging loose above her. We weren’t supposed to take a child, but an emergency call came through that morning. A home was needed for a young girl immediately.

I, together with four children, hurried to get her room ready. The kids were great. Joanne, our second-eldest daughter, did the cleaning and Margaret, Rob and Jeff helped make the bed. I felt my heart pounding in my chest. I was excited, but scared at the same time because I was told an adopted child might give us a lot of trouble.

That afternoon, Trudy arrived with the social worker Mrs. Kline. She stepped into the front hall and stood against the wall. I will never forget the look in her eyes. The first thing that came to my mind was that she looked like a hunted animal. The children moved towards her, and Jeff grabbed her hand and said proudly, “Come and see your room. I helped make your bed.” Trudy pulled back, speechless.

At this point, I stepped towards her and said, "Welcome to our home, Trudy. “She looked at me with such blank eyes. But with her head bowed, she simply said, eyes moving back and forth like a creature looking for a way out, “No, thank you.”

For the first two weeks, Trudy was very quiet. She would come into the kitchen while I was working, and we would discuss school and what she would like to do in the future. Mrs. Kline had given us all the information about her history, but I never mentioned the terrible things that had happened to her.

As the days went by, Trudy became a delight to have around. Very quickly, it seemed like she had always been with us. The girls would sit in each other’s rooms and giggle(咯咯笑) like typical teenagers. It was a sound that warmed my soul. However, when they talked about new clothes, Trudy fell silent again.

I took Joanne shopping for a winter coat, and Trudy came too.

Back home, I presented the jacket Trudy had tried on.

Mama and Papa were like most parents. They wanted the best for their kids. Jeff and Jenna were like most kids. They wanted the best for themselves－the best place in front of the TV, the biggest piece of cake and the most candies.

One night, when the noisy kids were sound asleep, Mama lay awake worrying. She sighed a big sigh, thinking how to teach Jeff and Jenna to mend their selfish ways. Lecturing didn’t work.

As Mama lay there, she thought about how kids learn. Kids learn by doing. They learn to walk by walking. That’s the answer, thought Mama. The kids will learn to help others by helping others. But questions of who, when, and where went unanswered as she drifted off to sleep.

To her pleasure, those questions were soon answered. The next day, they happened to meet Mrs. Marie, the elderly widow who lived just down the road, at the checkout line at the supermarket.

Mama asked the kids to say hello to Mrs. Marie, about whom the kids were a little nervous. She was really old and kind of bent over. And there was that crooked cane she used when she walked. But the real reason they were nervous about her was that two days ago their ball had gone into her yard and knocked over some flowers in the garden and broke the glasses of the attic. They had never apologized.

When Mama and the kids were loading their groceries into the car, Mrs. Marie came out of the supermarket pushing her little collapsible shopping cart.

“Where are you going?” called Mama.

“To the bus stop,” she said, “The bus goes right by my house.” “So does our car,” said Mama.

Mama asked the kids to help Mrs. Marie into the car and put her things in the trunk(后备箱).

As the car was approaching Mrs. Marie`s house, Mama made a decision.

When I arrived home from school, night was falling. A call came from the public: a bird of unknown species was being attacked by a group of noisy children in his front garden. He scared them off and grabbed their victim. I immediately called for my classmate Jack to the spot.

We were standing in front of a stranger’s house in an unfamiliar street, rescue box in hand. My head full of instructions to follow. “The bird would be our first test as a volunteer wildlife rescuer!” Jack said excitedly. We had completed the two-day intensive training course the previous month and learned the basic skills of rescuing animals in various situations.

But we were anxious, too. After all, it was the first time for us to rescue a bird. Would I be able to transfer the bird neatly into my rescue box? Many worries flashed in my mind. Sensing my unease about the act ahead, Jack said, “These things are pretty easy to deal with!”

I was wondering what kind of bird it was when a kind-looking man appeared and led us inside to see our very first patient. I lifted the edge of the shoe box very slightly to see an angry-looking bird standing to attention on very thin and long legs, together with a slice of banana and a small dish of water. He didn’t know its true name but the folks called the creature Red Fan. “It’s eaten some banana,” said the man proudly. The poor soul seemed rather nervous, so l decided not to grab it by hand but just transfer the whole shoe box into my rescue box.

Back home, we could only see some minor injuries in the left wing, but there was no blood on its feathers. Jack managed to treat the injuries with some iodophor (碘伏药水). We assessed its condition to find out if it was appropriate to release the bird the next day. How could we help it spend the night peacefully? We hadn’t seen this species of bird before, let alone its habits.

“Why not do a search on the Internet?” suggested Jack.

The next day, we were glad to see the bird was well enough.

That day, I was going to skate a clean freestyle program for the first time in a year. I determined to land the axel (前外一周半跳) in competition.

“I can make it!” I thought as I skated to the center ice. When my music sounded, I started my program with a circular step and a bright smile, followed by a beautiful combination spin. Flying camel, sit spin, layback spin. Perfection. The jump! The axel!

I could do it when I practiced off-ice, but I’d only landed it on-ice approximately fourteen times in my entire life. So I was a little nervous. I’d leave it out if I could, but my Olympic dreams depended on it. My coach, Geena, put it early in my program so I could do it while my legs were not tired. Taking a deep breath, “I can succeed!” I thought.

I was on the right back outside edge of my skate blade (冰刀), ready to turn forward and launch into the axel. My nerves were back, working against me. “I can do this!” I thought. I stepped into takeoff and I did… a waltz jump (半周跳). It is a jump I’d been doing since I was pretty young. It is only one-half a rotation (旋转) instead of the one and one-half that I need for the axel.

I glimpsed Coach Geena’s questioning eyebrow as I glided past the door and imagined the disappointed looks on my parents’ faces. “It’s not over,” I reasoned to myself, glancing into the bleachers (露天座位). “I’d just replace the next jump with the axel.”

However, it didn’t work out the way I’d hoped. I fell, and I kept falling. Never one to give up, I replaced every jump in my program with the axel, but I didn’t land one. I spent so much time on the ice that it’s like I was making sure the ice was clean for the next skater. The two minutes, fifteen seconds of my program felt like an age. By the time I was done, my dress was soaked through and I was seven seconds behind my music, so I finished skating to silence.

As I skated toward the exit, I felt everyone was looking at me with pity.

The performance going on, I rose up from the bleachers, determined to go home but my parents held me up.