Friendship

Sometime during the seventh grade, two things happened to me. The first was that I got hooked on salami. I couldn’t get enough of the salty, spicy sausage. The other thing was that my mum and I weren’t getting along really well. We weren’t fighting really badly or anything. We also didn’t laugh together much anymore until that afternoon.

As far as the salami went, my mum wouldn’t buy any because she said it was too expensive and not that good for me. To prove my emerging independence, I decided to go ahead and eat what I wanted anyway. So one day I used my allowance to buy a full sausage of dry salami.

Now a problem had to be solved: Where would I put the salami? I didn’t want my mum to see it. So I hid it in the only place in my room that I knew was totally safe—under my bed. There was a special corner under the bed that my mum rarely had the ambition to clean. Under the bed went the salami, back in the corner—in the dark and the dust.

A couple of weeks later, I remembered the delicious treat that was waiting for me. I peered beneath the bed and saw—not the salami that I had hidden, but some strange, green and hairy object that didn’t look like anything I had ever seen before. The salami had grown about an inch of hair, and the hair was standing straight up, as if the salami had been surprised by the sudden appearance of my face next to its hiding place. Being the picky eater I was, I was not interested in consuming any of this object. The best thing I could think of to do was … absolutely nothing.

Some time later, my mum became obsessed (对……着迷的) with spring cleaning, which in her case meant she would clean places that had never seen the light of day. Of course, that meant under my bed. I knew in my heart that she would soon find the object in its hiding place. She washed, scrubbed (擦洗), and dusted.

Then one afternoon my mum’s screams sharply came from my room.

Finally, the laughter I had been trying to hold back exploded from my mouth.

Scout could clearly remember the night she had to leave her home in Poland. It was the beginning of World War II and her family had to escape as soon as possible. She quickly packed a suitcase with a few pieces of clothing, her diary, and her most prized treasure, a silk scarf. Scout and her best friend, Betty, had persuaded their parents to buy them matching scarves, which they took as a symbol of their friendship. Scout didn’t know she was going to America and would not be returning.

Scout kept that special silk scarf for many years. One day she decided to give it to her granddaughter, Eliza, to wear to her first job interview for good luck. Scout was afraid that Eliza would lose the scarf, but the granddaughter promised, “Don’t worry, Grandma. Nothing’s going to happen to your scarf. You’ll see that it’s going to bring both of us luck.” And with that, Eliza kissed her grandmother and left for the interview.

Leaving the interview, Eliza felt confident that she had got the job so she decided to celebrate by going to a restaurant. Sitting at her table, Eliza felt an elderly woman staring at her for a long time.

“I’m sorry. Do I know you?” Eliza asked.

“I’m sorry, dear, but you remind me of my best friend,” the old woman replied. “She looked like you and used to wear a scarf just like yours.” Eliza listened carefully, with her eyes and mouth wide open. She had heard stories of her grandmother’s best friend and knew the meaning of the scarf. Could this woman be Betty, her grandmother’s childhood friend?

Then the old woman introduced herself, “My name is

The old woman agreed.

Ali and his younger sister, Zahra, lived with their parents in a poor neighborhood. Their mother was very sick and their father was struggling to find a job, and they had only a little money with which to buy food. As they had not paid the rent for several months, the landlord was breathing down their necks.

One day, Ali took Zahra's shoes to a shoe repairman to be fixed, but he lost them on the way home. It wasn’t until he got home that he realized he had lost the shoes. He was afraid that his parents would be angry and disappointed, so he begged his sister to keep it a secret. Zahra agreed and the two decided to share Ali’s running shoes. Zahra's school hours were in the morning, so she would wear them first. After school, she would rush back and give them to Ali. He could then run to his school, which began in the afternoon. Although he ran as fast as he could, Ali often arrived late and was warned by the school.

Ali heard about a long distance race that was held for the boys in the city.When he learned that the third prize was a new pair of shoes, he decided to take part. He ran home excitedly and promised his sister that he would win her the new shoes.

The day of race arrived. Ali had a strong start, but halfway through the race he began to get tired and his legs began to ache. Getting more and more exhausted he thought only of Zahra and his promise to her. Dreaming of the new shoes he would win for his sister gave him strength, and he stayed right behind the two fastest runners, determined to finish third. Suddenly, as the finish line drew near, another runner collided(碰撞) with Ali from behind and he crashed to the ground.

Ali looked up and saw the other boys rushing ahead.

Filled with delight, Ali walked home quickly.

A mother is a person who, seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, immediately announces she never did care for pie.

—Tenneva Jordan

I knew I was not supposed to be quite so excited. I was too old for that. At age eleven, as the oldest and my mom’s “grown-up” girl, I had to keep myself cool. I was in middle school after all. But when I got every chance and I was alone. I checked each present under the tree. I read every tag(标签)and felt every package, guessing at the contents within. I examined each gift so often that I could tell which present went to which person without even looking at the tags.

It had been a tough year for my family. Whenever my mom looked over at the tree and scattered(撒)presents, she would sigh and warn us, “There won’t be as much for Christmas this year. Try not to be disappointed.” Christmas had traditionally been a time for my parents to spoil us. In the past, the presents would pile up and spill out from under the tree, taking up a lot of space of the living room. I had heard the phrase, “Giving is better than receiving”, but thought that whoever had said that must have been out of their mind. Getting presents was the whole point! It was the reason why I couldn’t get to sleep on Christmas Eve.

On Christmas morning, we eagerly waited in the hallway until Dad told us everything was ready. We rushed into the living room and let the wrapping paper fly. Some of us made weak attempts to wait and watch while other family members opened their presents, but as the time passed, we lost our self-control.

“Here’s another one for you,” said Mom as she handed me a package. I looked at it, puzzled. Having spent so much time examining the presents before Christmas, I recognized this one. But it was not mine. It was my mom’s. A new tag had been put on it, with my name written in my mother’s handwriting.

“Mom, I can’t…”

“This is your present and it belongs to you,” said my mother.

That Christmas is quite meaningful to me.

A Bowl of Noodles

Jenny was the only child in her home. She had a quarrel with her mother that afternoon and she ran out of the house angrily. She couldn’t help crying sadly when she thought of he scolding from her mother. Having wandered aimlessly in the street for hours, she felt a little hungry and wished for something to eat, but it was not even possible for her, since she had nothing with her. She stood beside a stand for a while, watching the middle-aged seller busy doing his business. However, with no money in hand, she sighed and had to leave.

The seller behind the stand noticed the young girl and asked, “Hey, girl, you want to have the noodles?”

“Oh, yes... but I don’t have money on me...” she replied.

“That’s nothing. I’ll treat you today,” said the man,

“Come in.”

The seller brought her a bowl of noodles, whose smell was so attractive. Jenny thanked the man and started to gobblle (狼吞虎咽) up the delicious food...then cried silently.

“What is it?” asked the man kindly.

“Nothing, actually I was moved by your kindness!” said Jenny as she wiped her tears, “Even a stranger on the street will give me a bowl of noodles, while my mother drove me out of the house. She showed no care for me. She is so mean and cruel!”

Hearing the words, the seller smiled “Girl, do you really think so? I only gave you a bowl of noodles and you thanked me a lot. But it is your mother who has raised you since you were a baby. Can you number the times that she has cooked for you? Have you expressed your thanks to her?”

Jenny sat there, speechless and numb with shock; she remembered her mother’s familiar face and weathered hands. “Why did I not think of that? A bowl of noodles from a stranger made me feel grateful, but I have never thanked my mum for what she has done for me.”

On the way home, Jenny made up her mind to make an apology to her mother for her rudeness as soon as she arrived home.

Approaching the doorway, Jenny took a deep breath.

Her mother came back home, which called her mind back.