Bill and I were far from expert sailors. We’d purchased our 36-foot boat a few years earlier. Since then, we’d taken a number of short trips around Lake Michigan. But Bill and I still had a lot to learn.

It was clear on the first day of this trip, our longest adventure to date—80 miles to Fayette State Park. Not long after we’d left our home port, Menominee, Michigan, on the shore of Green Bay, the sky turned dark, the waves grew and the wind picked up. There had been rain and strong wind forecast, but we weren’t prepared for them. Should we keep going or head for a safe port?

“Escanaba’s not far away if we can make it,” Bill said. I nodded my head. He drew down the sails and turned on the engine. Soon we made it to the port. After Bill gassed up, we cooked up some dinner, made hot coffee and listened to the music of the rain and wind.

The next morning, we awoke to a beautiful midsummer day. The sky was clear. We set sail after breakfast across Green Bay and onto the waters of western Lake Michigan. Twenty miles were left to our destination. For the first hour or so, everything went well. Then the wind, which had carried us along at a steady but gentle pace, suddenly died. Died completely. We had to start the motor.

The engine coughed, and the boat trembled. I looked at Bill. “I pumped in enough gas, so that can’t be the problem,” Bill said. The engine coughed again, and then shut down. Every attempt to start it failed. “I think I know what’s wrong,” he said and raced to the bow. I followed. When I reached there, he was holding the gas cap. He had been in such a rush to fill up the tank the night before to get out of the rain that he had forgotten to fasten the gas cap back on. Now the boat motor was flooded.

We tried to make a phone call, but there was no signal.

Just as we were desperate, an old boat came along.

When I was a twelve-year-old girl, I was so addicted to chatting online that some people even called me CyberSara. My mom, a lawyer, always complained that I spent too much time chatting with my Internet friends.

One day I got an instant message from a kid I didn’t know. His name was Bradley, who said he was twelve and lived in New York. He asked if he could be my secret friend, and I thought that seemed pretty cool. Within a few days’ chatting, I found that we both loved to play soccer, even though I didn’t play as much as I used to. To my great joy, we both loved playing computer games very much.

Every day, Bradley and I chatted and emailed each other. We became best friends. He was interesting and seemed kind of smart—actually, much smarter than the typical twelve-year-old boys I knew. I really liked chatting with him. He told me he really liked me. Bradley kept telling me New York was a cool place to live and emailed me amazing pictures of extremely tall skyscrapers (摩天大楼). He asked me where I lived. I told him I lived in Tampa. One day, Bradley shared good news with me that he was coming to Tampa with his parents. He invited me to have a secret meeting and go for ice cream with him in the ice-cream shop near my school. Eager to find what my secret Internet friend was like, I promised to keep it a secret, not telling my parents about our plan.

I was excited that I was finally going to meet Bradley after months of chatting. However, he refused to send me a picture of himself, saying he didn’t want to ruin the surprise. It made me quite confused. Was there something wrong with him? Was he a weird (奇怪的) guy who was not confident enough to show a picture of himself? But he said everyone in his school thought he was the cutest boy in his class, so I thought he had to be normal. The next day, I accidentally told Mom that I would meet my Internet friend alone. Upon hearing that, she began annoying me with a ton of questions, with her face full of anxiety. I eventually told her that Bradley was going to take me for ice cream near my school. “No. Never will you meet a stranger all alone. You are just a 12-year-old girl!”, mom was beside herself with rage when I showed my determination to go. So angry was she that I had no choice but to bring her together. We prepared and drove to the ice-cream shop.

The moment we entered the ice-cream shop, there was no one but a weird adult (成年人). ___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The woman speaking to me at the basketball game looked quite familiar. She said, “Joe? Is that you?”

“Marci?”

“It is you!” she said, smiling widely, “It’s good to see you again!”

It was good to see Marci, too. Off and on during the past tens of years, I’d wondered about her. I almost tried to find her a few years ago, after a friend told me that Marci had been going through a hard time. So running into her at the basketball game was, at the very least, unexpected.

We spent a few minutes catching up on the business of our lives: kids, work, houses, education and hobbies, etc. We played a little “Have you seen...?” and “Did you know..?” And we talked about the old days, both good and bad.

Then Marci grew quiet for a while, looking out over the people moving around. “You know, Joe,” she said, “I’ve always wanted to tell you...how...you know...how sorry I am for the way I treated you.”

I felt a little uncomfortable, remembering how Marci had broken up with me without any warning.

“It’s okay,” I said. “No big deal.” At least, I thought to myself, not anymore.

“But I was such a bad person,” she continued, lowering her head.

Yes, you were, I thought, “We were both pretty young,” I said.

“I know,” she said. “But that’s no excuse for ...” She hesitated (迟疑), and then continued: “I’ve always regretted it, remembering how mean I was to you. And I’ve wanted to tell you that I’m sorry and ask for your forgiveness. So ... I’m sorry.”

The smile on her face was warm and sincere. And there was something in her eyes — it looked a lot like relief (解脱) — that washed away my anger and hate that may have built up within me during the years since she had broken my heart.

It’s the Saturday, 1:00 am, and Stormy, my dog, and I were going on a pre-dawn bird-watching adventure. The weatherman predicted fog, but as we hit the road, it’s clear. Along our journey, I stopped at a petrol station, ensuring Stormy was safely locked in the truck.

“Stormy, hang tight,” I whispered, stepping out into the night air.

Back on the highway, as we were near the marshlands, a heavy fog began to swallow everything. At a sharp bend, my truck hit soft ground, and I lost control. “Oh, no!” Panic set in as the vehicle slid off the road with a bang, falling down a steep bank and into the water.

In the strange silence that followed, I was floating inside the car, gently carried downstream by the canal. “Come on, door,” I said, switching uselessly at the handle. It won’t move; the electrical system had shorted out due to the water. “I’ve got a glass breaker,” I reminded myself, reaching for the tool in the center part.

With each failed attempt to break the window — the glass bouncing back at me — I felt a growing sense of urgency. Water moved over the floorboards, cooling my feet. “Stormy, stay calm,” I said, lying down to kick at the window with all my strength. But my efforts only met resistance.

As the water level rose threateningly close to the ceiling, fear clawed at my heart. In a last effort, I dived behind the seat for my toolbox. “Got to find something solid.” My hands brushed against the cold metal toolbox, then the fire extinguisher (灭火器). “This might work.”

“Here goes everything,” I thought, holding the extinguisher and hitting it against the window. The impact resounded through the car, but the glass holds firm. “Not yet,” I begged under my breath, as the extinguisher bounced harmlessly away.

The water kept rising, and so did my fear. A voice inside me screamed to give up, but another thought pierced through — Stormy. “For Stormy, I can’t quit.” Just then, I sensed a pause in the water’s rise.

An unspoken sound said, “You have more time. What will you do?”

“I’ll fight harder,” I promised aloud.

Exhausted, we caught the now flooded vehicle, waiting for daylight.

I wanted to go to a party. Especially it was a beach party. It had been almost the only thing my friends had been talking about for the last couple of weeks. But My mom had said no. The more desperately I pleaded her case, the more forcefully my mother said no. “I don’t care who’s going,” said coldly my mother, “you are not going.” I was heartbroken. This was my best friend’s party.

Sunday dinner came around and my grandmother joined the family for the meal. Gran noticed my depression but didn’t say a word. It was my turn to wash up and Gran said, “Let me help you.” “What’s up?” asked Gran as I dumped the dishes into the foaming water. Gran wiped a plate with a tea towel. “Mom won’t let me go to my best friend’s party.” I said sadly. “Has mom explained why she doesn’t want you to go?” asked Gran. “No.” I replied. “Then for a moment, put yourself in her position.” said Gran. “If you were mom, what would your objections be?”

I hadn’t stopped to think about my mom’s side. “Well,” I answered, “it’s a beach party. Maybe she doesn’t trust us or thinks we’ll get into trouble.”

“Are there going to be any adults there?” asked Gran. “No,” I said, “who wants their parents hanging around when you’re trying to have fun?” “Might it just be,” said Gran, “your mother doesn’t want anything unfortunate to happen to you.”“Nothing will happen.” I objected. “Maybe you’re right,” said Gran, “but maybe mom’s worried in case it could.”

Gran looked at me gently, seeming to expect my agreement. For a minute or so, I kept silent, pondering for a while about my eagerness for the party. “Maybe, you are right, however, is there no hope?” I inquired. “Not necessarily.” answered Gran, lost in thought.

Paragraph 1: “Then maybe think of a compromise.” suggested Gran.

Paragraph 2: The long-awaited beach party finally came.