As usual, the whole class burst out laughing as Patric rushed into the classroom. He was a strange sight. His half-buttoned white shirt revealed a red striped pajama (条纹睡衣) top underneath, and instead of white school shoes, he had on a pair of bright green sandals (凉鞋) that were two sizes too big. The physics teacher’s hand froze in the middle of writing a formula (公式) on the blackboard.

Patric mumbled, “Sorry, teacher,” and rushed to his seat. Mr Gao glared (怒视) at the rest of the students. The chuckles (轻声笑) quickly stopped. Patric’s classmates always looked forward to Mondays. Nine times out of ten, they would be entertained by Patric’s late arrival and his odd appearance, which usually included improper clothing. That day, it was the pajama top and green sandals.

Patric lived just a street away from the school. He walked to school every day. Students passing by in buses would yell his name together just to see him jump and stop in his tracks. When he spotted the merry classmates in the bus, he would wave kindly. Although Patric was likable, he was too lost in his own thoughts to make friends. His classmates found him amusing but they ignored him most of the time. Only Kevin, who sat next to Patric , tried to be his friend.

The following Monday, Patric did not turn up at school. His classmates were a little disappointed but quickly forgot about him. After school, Kevin decided to walk over to Patric’s house to check on him. As he approached the gate, he could hear violin music. Patric must be listening to music, he thought. The gate was not locked. Kevin let himself in. He called Patric’s name a few times but there was no response. The music played on. Kevin peered (仔细看) in through a window. His eyes widened in surprise. In the middle of the living room, Patric was playing the violin. His eyes were closed in concentration as he drew the bow (琴弓) over the strings expertly. He played flawlessly (完美无瑕地), so much so that it sounded like a recording. Kevin left quietly.

With the Teacher’s Day approaching, Kevin had a plan.

As the last note (音符) ended, there was a moment of silence.

When I was seven years old, I saw my mother sitting at her sewing machine making doll (玩具娃娃) clothes. When I asked her who the doll clothes were for, she told me that they were for the poor people, so I never gave it another thought. On the Christmas morning when I opened my present, there were those beautiful doll clothes. I said to her, “I thought the doll clothes were for the poor people.” My mother just smiled and said, “They are for the poor people. We’re poor.”

When I was nine years old, my greatest desire in life was to own a pogo stick (弹簧单高跷). I had recently learned to walk on a pair of sticks my dad had made for me, and I thought that if I had a pogo stick I surely would be proud of my unbelievable skills.

When Christmas season approached again, I told my mother that the only thing I wanted was a pogo stick. My mother told me they were too expensive and that we simply couldn’t buy one. On a Saturday afternoon a couple of weeks before Christmas, my mom and dad told me we needed to go to Sears to pay our credit bill. While my mother and I were at the counter paying the bill, my dad said, “I’ll be right back. I need to see something in the tool department.” Soon my dad came walking out with a long box. I remember wondering at that very moment if it was a pogo stick in that box.

When we arrived back at home, my dad put the box in the barn (谷仓). While my parents were busy with their things, I walked out to the barn and found the box. I was so excited and I knew that as soon as I opened that magical box my bright shiny pogo stick would appear.

No such luck! Inside the box was a silly old broom (扫帚). And so Christmas morning was both great and disappointing. I got some nice gifts but I didn’t get the present that I really wanted.

Paragraph 1: On Christmas morning, when I woke up, I found the box on my bed.

Paragraph 2: I couldn’t believe how they were able to get the money for it and how they cheated me with the broom.

Amy is good at making pies, which got her hired at the Good Times restaurant months ago. And she was often regarded as the best worker there. Recently, she became the supervisor (管理者) at the restaurant. She was kind and friendly to all the other workers and the customers.

One morning, Amy was taking orders when she overheard (无意中听到) a conversation. “What you did there was great, Mason! It was hard to carry the old lady safely out of the fire. For a moment, I thought you were gone, my friend,” one man said. To this, the other man replied, “Yeah, it was difficult, but that’s our job. And you were the hero today, Gordon. You carried that girl on your shoulder and her dog in your hand. It’s going to be on the front page tomorrow, I’m telling you.”

From their clothing and conversation, Amy knew they were firefighters. And she quickly realized that they had been talking about the previous night’s fire at the old motel (汽车旅馆) on the other end of the road. Then the man named Gordon continued, “I don’t care about being in the papers. The little girl and her dog reminded me of my own daughter. She’s constantly asking for a dog, too.” Amy was moved by the courage and sincerity (真诚) of the two men. She wanted to show her appreciation for their selfless service.

“How about helping pay for their meal?” she wondered.. After taking the order, Amy sat down at a table, got out of a pen and a piece of paper and wrote on the paper.

Then she went to the cashier (收银员) and secretly paid for their meal.

One of my teachers once asked my class what our favorite memory was. Some described grand awards; others 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 laughter, because I knew there was more to the story.

My sister and I shared a typical sisterly relationship: we couldn’t stand each other. Or, to be honest, she couldn’t stand me. I hero-worshipped her. Her taste was the type of charm, her personality the definition of cool. My clothes mysteriously looked like hers, and even my words tended to copy those I heard from home. Many times, I even wanted to literally follow my sister, sobbing every time I was banned from attending movies with her. Needless to say, I was a trouble and an annoyance to her. Any sort of conversation we had usually ended up fighting, and try as I might, my sister had an extra six years worth of insulting vocabulary (which meant she usually won). After a while, I stopped trying to impress her and learned 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, she ignored me, and deep inside, it hurt. So that’s how it was between us. Indifferent or unfriendly, she was only a sister in name. I truly believed that we would forever be apart, two housemates without conversation, two strangers without warmth. And nothing more.

I still remember the day I learned to ride a bike. I had received the bike that Christmas, which was great, until I realized I had no idea how to ride it. My mom had long since abandoned any attempt to teach me; I had proved to be a panicky, frustrating student. I took it upon myself to learn, a little bit each day, but to no avail; I couldn’t ride my bike, and on that fateful day, it was no different. I was coming to the end of my daily one-hour suffering, and 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.

That was the day, however, I had a taste of what real sisterly closeness could be like.

From high up in his apartment building, Peter could see the river stretching in both directions. Every Saturday, Peter watched grandfather riding towards the building on his bicycle. But today, Peter knew that his grandfather wouldn’t come. Peter would not hear the ring-ring of grandfather’s bicycle bell. And there would be no Saturday afternoon picnic in the park.

Last week, grandfather had a hip operation. Now he needed a cane (拐杖) to walk—and Peter didn’t know if grandfather could ever ride his bike again. Peter sighed. London looked beautiful today, but Peter missed his grandfather. Would he ever again hear the ring-ring as grandfather approached?

That’s when Peter had an idea. He was determined to provide grandfather with a picnic and a surprise. He grabbed his birthday money—10 euro (欧元) —from the top dresser drawer.

A few minutes later, Peter ran down the stairs of his building and burst into the afternoon sunshine. His bike was waiting for him. Peter put on his helmet and rode down the rough road.

Ring-ring sang his bicycle bell to warn walkers that he was approaching. He rode past the corner hardware store. He rode past the window washer who whistled as he worked. And he rode over a bridge. Peter rode two more blocks and then arrived at the market.

Buckets were filled with varieties of chocolates. Tables were piled with rounds of cheese. And Peter’s favorite-baskets overflowed with delicious potato chips, and rolls. All smelt nice, and his mouth watered. Then, he passed the toy store full of amazing toys and furthermore, he caught sight of what he had been dreaming of—a game player! The market seemed to be his paradise where everything attracted him.

Peter’s euros danced in his pocket, but suddenly he thought of the picnic and the surprise.

“This bicycle bell is for your cane! “said Peter.

When we were finally dismissed from the last class of the day, the students streamed out of the classrooms. It was another boring day after school. I dragged my feet home as I sighed. Yet another uneventful day, I thought. Little did I know that the day would take a turn for the worse.

The lift lobby (电梯间) of my flat was old and dirty. The walls, which were painted white, had been dirtied over many years. I reached my flat’s lobby, and pressed the lift button and went in. Just then, Mrs Lim, my elderly neighbour, hobbled (蹒跚) in. She looked ancient with tissue paper white hair, wearing a faded old-fashioned dress. I held the lift door open, flashing a friendly smile, and politely greeted her. I asked her how she felt that day and pressed the buttons. She thanked me for being so polite, then we were silent for the rest of the ride.

The lift fell down increasingly fast. There were loud clanking sounds here and there while the lift grew slower and slower. My heart beat hard and fast as my hands turned cold and wet with sweat. Unfortunately, the lift came to an abrupt stop at the fifth floor. I pressed the buttons hard several times, but it was of no help. The lights on the buttons had gone out. It soon dawned on me that we were trapped. An icy fear crept up my spine. Mrs Lim was hysterical (歇斯底里).

Paragraph 1:“We will never get out!” she cried with her face pale.

Paragraph 2: Bang! My hopes were lifted when I heard the firefighters on the other side of the lift door.