第1章 谁的青春不曾迷茫

Popular Misconceptions

I was awkward in middle school: bony and athletic, with a high grade in science and a low one in self-esteem. Though I had friends, I didn't fit the mold of popularity. I was picked last in flag football[1] and I sometimes ate lunch by myself.

I remember the day Brittany came to our school. She was from the Bay Area, and told us stories of how she had snuck out at night to meet older boys and smoke in the park. Her teeth were crooked[2], and she was a little overweight. Not that mattered though, because she walked around like she was better than all of us put together. She was incredibly intimidating[3], outspoken, and aggressive—a person who you didn't want to cross[4].

Around Brittany, I tried my best to go unnoticed. Standing out or stealing her spotlight could only result in one thing: confrontation. I considered myself a chameleon, blending in with my surrounding and remaining the shy sixth-grader I had always been. I wore skorts[5] and Tommy Hilfiger sneakers with red and blue laces, and my blond hair was frequently in a ponytail. Brittany and her friends wore shorts with words like "Hottie" on the seat. She dyed her brown hair black and got a perm like the other popular girls. All the boys were completely smitten[6] with her.

Although I could run for a touchdown[7], Brittany was always the first girl picked in flag football at recess[8] and I was lucky if I was picked at all. I was thrown the ball while she stood with the quarterback, chatting about the last keg party she'd gone to. I didn't even know what came in a keg and had never contemplated[9] drinking. She was flirtatious[10] and mysterious while I was a declaration of what good parenting and strong Christian morals could produce. I had never been kissed, nor did I understand the tactics[11] to get as far as she had gone with a boy.

One day, Brittany bribed a classmate to ask me to the school dance. I wasn't allowed to go, and I told him so, but I was flattered. I felt elite and accepted by those around me. I told myself, though I am alone, I am desired and that is good enough for me. I blended in the most perfect way: well enough to fit in and not nerdy enough to stand out. Then Brittany told me during science class that she had put him up to[12] it. She asked in front of everyone, "Why would anyone ever want you?" And I believed her.

I went home and cried, questioning whether I was an alien. I told myself over and over that she would amount to nothing[13] while I still had time to grow. She would become a middle-aged trailer park[14] renter in Northern California, with lots of kids and with her same buck-toothed[15] smile, while I would somehow turn into a high school social butterfly and move to New York City, Chicago, or Washington D.C., cosmopolitan[16] and sophisticated[17]. We would never be in the same league.

Secretly, I emulated[18] her. Through everything that she did to me, I wanted to be 20 times better. Although she was seemingly perfect in everyone's eyes, I wanted to be everything she wasn't and yet a million times more perfect. Where she was loud and mocking, I wanted to be reserved and coy[19]. She wore tight pants that exposed her chubby[20] stomach, but I wanted to be thin and muscular. Brittany was intimidating and violent, but I wanted to be, and was then, serene and not at all confrontational. I wanted to be the polar[21] opposite of her, showing how much better I was than her.

I forgot about Brittany somewhere between eighth grade and freshman year. I found a new group of friends—girls from other schools who finally became the "in-crowd[22]" in high school. Looking back, I was and am better than Brittany, and though I let her rule over my inadequacies[23] in middle school, I never did again. She was exactly what I hated then and is the type of person I will never let myself become.

I found Brittany's online profile a few weeks ago and discovered nothing outwardly shocking. She still has the same chubby face and mocking smile, flipping off[24] the camera as if she couldn't come up with anything original. I cringed[25] at some half-naked pictures with captions[26] that read "GeT bLaZeD". As I read on, I realized that Brittany had died in a drunken driving accident a year ago. She had been 16 and pregnant at the time. Suddenly my perception of Brittany changed from a bad influence into a struggling little girl whose life was taken before she could decipher[27] right from wrong. I had wanted everything bad to happen to her, but no one deserves that. No one. Those who worshiped her may never again, but I will always think of Brittany as the girl who never had the chance to find herself.

My experience with Brittany taught me that though we are all naive in our youth, the choices we make will impact us forever. The people we choose to be will remain a part of us. I will always remember Brittany as that loud[28], overconfident girl, and a part of that shy, insecure person I used to be will always keep me humble.

(By Lauren M.)

青春的误读

中学时代的我很尴尬：擅长运动，却骨瘦如柴；理科成绩好，自尊心却不强。虽然我有朋友，但我并不是人人都喜欢的那种类型。在夺旗橄榄球比赛中，我总是最后一个被选中上场的。有时候，我还会独自一人吃午餐。

我仍记得布里塔尼来我们学校的那天。她从旧金山湾区转学而来，当时还给我们讲了她以前如何在夜里溜出去跟年长的男生会面并在公园里吸烟那些事。她的牙齿长得歪歪扭扭的，人也有点胖。不过这些都没关系，因为她走起路来趾高气扬，好像我们所有人加在一起都不如她似的。她极有震慑力，说话直来直去，还总是一副咄咄逼人的样子——她就是一个你不想去招惹的人。

只要在布里塔尼旁边，我就尽量保持低调。太引人注目或抢她的风头只会有一个下场，那就是与她发生冲突。我觉得自己就像一条变色龙，与周围的环境融为一体，保持着自己作为一个六年级学生一贯的腼腆形象。我穿裙式短裤和镶有红蓝相间的蕾丝花边的汤米·希尔费格牌球鞋，一头金发总是扎成马尾。而布里塔尼和她的朋友们却穿臀部印有诸如“辣妹”字样的短裤。她还像其他很潮的女生一样把棕色的头发染黑、烫卷。所有男生都彻底被她迷倒了。

虽然我可以持球触地得分，然而在课间的夺旗橄榄球比赛中，布里塔尼却总是第一个被挑中上场的女孩，而我若能被选中，就算我的运气。别人传球给我的时候，她却在跟四分卫大谈自己最近参加的啤酒宴会。那时我甚至还不知道啤酒宴会是什么样子，也从没想过要喝酒。她举止轻佻，很是神秘，而我则是良好家教和严格的基督教道德准则所能培养出的典范。从没有人吻过我，我也不懂那些伎俩，不知道如何像她一样与男生交往。

一天，布里塔尼买通了一位同学，让他邀请我参加学校的舞会。尽管我告诉他家里人不允许我去，但这件事却仍然让我觉得受宠若惊。原来我也是优秀的，我觉得身边的人接纳了自己。我对自己说，虽然我总是孤零零的一个人，可还是有人喜欢我的，这对我来说就足够了。我以最理想的方式融入了他们：既能与他们相处融洽，也没有出尽风头招人讨厌。后来在自然课上，布里塔尼告诉我，是她唆使那个人邀请我的。她当着全班同学的面反问我：“别人怎么会要你这样的？”我把她的这句话当真了。

回到家后，我哭了一场，怀疑自己是不是一个异类。我一遍遍地告诉自己，她将一事无成，而我还有时间成长。她将人到中年，带着一大群孩子在加州北部租住活动屋停车场；她的孩子们笑起来和她一样，龅牙外露。而我将成为高中的交际花，会迁居至纽约、芝加哥或华盛顿特区，成为一个见多识广又成熟老练的人。我们永远也不会成为同一类人。

私底下，我暗暗与她较劲。就凭她对我做的这一切，我也要比她好一百倍。尽管她在每个人眼里似乎都完美无缺，我要做一个与她完全相反的人，但却要比她完美上万倍。当她扯着嗓门冷嘲热讽时，我就要含蓄内敛、矜持腼腆。她穿紧身裤，露出她丰腴的腹部，而我则要变得修长健美。布里塔尼气势汹汹叫人害怕，而我却想文静安详，不与人争吵冲撞（那时的我就是这样的）。我想和她完全相反，以证明我比她要优秀得多。

从八年级到大学一年级的那段日子里，我忘记了有关布里塔尼的往事。我结交了一群新朋友，她们来自其他学校，最终成了我们高中的风云人物。现在回过头看，不论是过去还是现在，我都比布里塔尼更优秀。尽管她曾对我中学时代的种种缺陷指手画脚，但我再也不会让她得逞了。她的的确确就是我当时所憎恶的人，而我永远也不会允许自己成为她那种人。

几周前，我在网上看到了布里塔尼的个人主页。表面看来，我并没发现她有什么太糟糕的地方。仍旧是那张圆圆的脸庞，脸上依然挂着嘲弄人的窃笑。她对着相机竖起中指，好像再也摆不出什么新颖的姿势。看到她拍的那些以“变得激情四射吧”作为说明的半裸照片，我感到尴尬不已。等我继续读下去，才发现布里塔尼已于一年前在一次因酒后驾驶引发的事故中丧生。当时她只有16岁，还有了身孕。突然之间，我对布里塔尼的印象发生了转变，由一个对周围产生很坏影响的人变成了一个苦苦挣扎的年轻女孩，一个在能明辨是非前就已失去生命的人。我曾希望一切不幸都降临于她，可是，没有人应该受到这样的惩罚啊。没有人。也许那些曾经爱慕过她的人再也不会念及她，但我却会一直想到她——一个永远都没有机会发现自我的女孩。

这段与布里塔尼有关的经历教会了我一个道理：尽管年轻时我们都天真幼稚，但所做的选择却会影响我们的一生。我们选择成为什么样的人，那种人的特征就会成为我们的一部分留存下来。我会一直记住布里塔尼，那个举止招摇而又张狂自负的女孩。而曾经腼腆而又不自信的我也会一如既往地保持那份谦卑。

（译/赵越）

You're Not Special

Commencement is life's great ceremonial beginning, with its own attendant and highly appropriate symbolism. Fitting, for example, for this auspicious[29] rite of passage[30], is where we find ourselves this afternoon, the venue. Normally, I avoid clichés like the plague, but there we are on a literal level playing field. That matters. That says something. And your ceremonial costume … shapeless, uniform, one-size-fits-all. Whether male or female, tall or short, scholar or slacker[31], each of you is dressed, you'll notice, exactly the same. And your diploma … but for your name, exactly the same.

All of this is as it should be, because none of you is special.

You are not special. You are not exceptional.

Yes, you've been pampered, cosseted, doted upon, helmeted, bubble-wrapped. Yes, capable adults with other things to do have held you, kissed you, fed you, wiped your mouth, wiped your bottom, trained you, taught you, tutored you, coached you, listened to you, counseled you, encouraged you, consoled you and encouraged you again. You've been nudged, cajoled, wheedled and implored. You've been feted and fawned over and called sweetie pie. Yes, you have. And, certainly, we've been to your games, your plays, your recitals, your science fairs. Absolutely, smiles ignite when you walk into a room, and hundreds gasp with delight at your every tweet. Why, maybe you've even had your picture in the Townsman[32]! And now you've conquered high school … and, indisputably, here we all have gathered for you, the pride and joy of this fine community, the first to emerge from that magnificent new building…

But do not get the idea you're anything special, because you're not.

The empirical evidence is everywhere; numbers even an English teacher can't ignore. Newton, Natnick, Nee … I am allowed to say Needham[33], yes? … that has to be two thousand high school graduates right here, give or take, and that's just the neighborhood N's. Across the country no fewer than 3.2 million seniors are graduating about now from more than 37,000 high schools. That's 37,000 valedictorians[34]. That's 37,000 class presidents… But why limit ourselves to high school? After all, you're leaving it. So think about this: even if you're one in a million, on a planet of 6.8 billion that means there are nearly 7,000 people just like you.

"But, Dave," you cry, "Walt Whitman tells me I'm my own version of perfect! Epictetus tells me I have the spark of Zeus!" And I don't disagree. So that makes 6.8 billion sparks of Zeus. You see, if everyone is special, then no one is. If everyone gets a trophy, trophies become meaningless. In our unspoken but not so subtle Darwinian competition with one another—which springs, I think, from our fear of our own insignificance, a subset of our dread of mortality—we have of late, we Americans, to our detriment[35], come to love accolades[36] more than genuine achievement. We have come to see them as the point—and we're happy to compromise standards, or ignore reality, if we suspect that's the quickest way, or only way, to have something to put on the mantelpiece, something to pose with, crow[37] about, something with which to leverage ourselves into a better spot on the social totem pole[38]. No longer is it even whether you win or lose, or learn or grow, or enjoy yourself doing it… Now it's "So what does this get me?" As a consequence, we cheapen worthy endeavors. It's an epidemic—and in its way, not even dear old Wellesley High is immune—one of the best of the 37,000 nationwide, Wellesley High School—where good is no longer good enough, where a B is the new C, and the midlevel curriculum is called Advanced College Placement[39]. And I hope you caught me when I said "one of the best". I said "one of the best" so we can feel better about ourselves, so we can bask[40] in a little easy distinction, however vague and unverifiable, and count ourselves among the elite, whoever they might be, and enjoy a perceived leg-up on the perceived competition. But the phrase defies logic. By definition there can be only one best. You're it or you're not.

If you've learned anything in your four years here I hope it's that education should be for, rather than material advantage, the exhilaration[41] of learning. You've learned, too, I hope, as Sophocles[42] assured us, that wisdom is the chief element of happiness. Second is ice cream … just an FYI[43]. I also hope you've learned enough to recognize how little you know, how little you know now, at the moment, for today is just the beginning. It's where you go from here that matters.

As you commence, then, and before you scatter to the winds, I urge you to do whatever you do for no reason other than you love it and believe in its importance. Don't bother with work you don't believe in any more than you would, a spouse you're not crazy about. Resist the easy comforts of complacency, the specious[44] glitter of materialism, the narcotic[45] paralysis of self-satisfaction. Be worthy of your advantages. And read … read all the time … read as a matter of principle, as a matter of self-respect. Read as a nourishing staple[46] of life. Develop and protect a moral sensibility and demonstrate the character to apply it. Dream big. Work hard. Think for yourself. Love everything you love, everyone you love, with all your might. And do so, please, with a sense of urgency, for every tick of the clock subtracts from fewer and fewer; and as surely as there are commencements, there are cessations[47], and you'll be in no condition to enjoy the ceremony attendant to that eventuality no matter how delightful the afternoon.

The fulfilling life, the distinctive life, the relevant life, is an achievement, not something that will fall into your lap because you're a nice person or mommy ordered it from the caterer[48]. You'll note the founding fathers took pains to secure your inalienable[49] right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness—quite an active verb, "pursuit"—which leaves, I should think, little time for lying around watching parrots rollerskate on Youtube. The first President Roosevelt, the old Rough Rider[50], advocated the strenuous[51] life. Mr. Thoreau wanted to drive life into a corner[52], to live deep and suck out all the marrow[53]. The poet Mary Oliver[54] tells us to row, row into the swirl and roil. Locally, someone … I forget who … from time to time encourages young scholars to carpe the heck out of the diem[55]. The point is the same: get busy, have at it. Don't wait for inspiration or passion to find you. Get up, get out, explore, find it yourself, and grab hold with both hands. Now before you dash off and get your YOLO (You Only Live Once) tattoo, let me point out the illogic of that trendy little expression—because you can and should live not merely once, but every day of your life. Rather than You Only Live Once (YOLO), it should be You Live Only Once (YLOO) … but because YLOO doesn't have the same ring, we shrug and decide it doesn't matter.

None of this day-seizing, though, this YLOOing, should be interpreted as license for self-indulgence. Like accolades ought to be, the fulfilled life is a consequence, a gratifying[56] by-product. It's what happens when you're thinking about more important things.

Climb the mountain not to plant your flag, but to embrace the challenge, enjoy the air and behold the view. Climb it so you can see the world, not so the world can see you. Go to Paris to be in Paris, not to cross it off your list and congratulate yourself for being worldly. Exercise free will and creative, independent thought not for the satisfactions they will bring you, but for the good they will do others, the rest of the 6.8 billion—and those who will follow them. And then you too will discover the great and curious truth of the human experience is that selflessness is the best thing you can do for yourself. The sweetness joys of life, then, come only with the recognition that you're not special.

Because everyone is.

(By David McCullough Jr.)

你并不特别

毕业典礼是人生伟大的开端仪式，有其自身的附加值以及恰如其分的象征意义。比方说，与这个美好的人生庆典相匹配的，就是今天下午我们身处的这个地方——这个会场。我通常对陈词滥调如瘟疫一般避之唯恐不及，但今天却是一个要比拼文字的场合，用词自然就要注意了，用什么词就要说明点儿什么。看看各位的礼服……没型没样、千篇一律，还都是一个尺寸。不论男女、不分高矮、也不管学习用不用功，你们会发现你们每个人穿得都一模一样。还有你们的毕业证书，除了你们的名字以外，其他的完全一样。

这一切本就应该如此，因为你们没有一个人是特别的。

你并不特别，也不出众。

没错，你一直是大人们宠爱、溺爱、娇纵的对象，享受百般呵护和无微不至的照料。没错，无所不能的大人们再忙也要拥抱你，亲吻你，喂养你，给你擦嘴、擦屁股，训练你，教育你，教导你，指引你，听你说话，给你忠告，鼓励你，安慰你，然后再鼓励你。他们对你费尽唇舌、好话说尽，或哄骗，或祈求，苦口婆心。他们赞美你、恭维你，叫你乖乖小甜心。没错，你拥有这一切。当然，你的运动会、你的比赛、你的朗诵会、你的科学展我们都会去参加。毫无疑问，当你走进教室，每个人都为你展露笑容。你发的每一条推特都会赢得数百声惊叹。哇，你的照片甚至可能还上过《同城人》报纸！而现在，你已经拿下了高中……毫无疑问，我们今天相聚在此全是为了你们——你们是这所一流学校的荣耀和喜悦，是从那幢雄伟的新教学楼里走出来的第一批学子……

但是，千万不要以为你很特别，因为你并不特别。

实证比比皆是，即使是一个英语老师也无法忽视这些数字。牛顿中学、内蒂克中学，还有李——我可以提李约瑟中学的名字吗？——那里或多或少应该有2000名高中毕业生吧，而这才仅仅是附近以N开头的几所高中的毕业人数。在整个美国，目前至少应该有320万名高中生正从3.7万多所高中毕业。也就是说，有3.7万名致告别辞的学生代表，有3.7万名学生会主席……但是，为什么我们只局限在高中范围呢？毕竟，你马上就要告别高中了。所以这样想想看：即使你是百万人中挑一的，但地球上有68亿人口，那就意味着世界上有近7000个像你这样的人。

“可是，戴夫，”你大声喊道，“诗人沃尔特·惠特曼告诉我，我就是我自己的完美版本！哲学家爱比克泰德告诉我，我有宙斯的才智！”我并不否认，但这样一来，就有68亿个有才智的宙斯。你瞧，如果人人都是特别的，那么谁都不特别。如果人人都能得到奖杯，那么奖杯也就变得毫无意义。我认为，我们对自身平庸的恐惧——这也是怕死的部分表现——引发了彼此之间达尔文式的适者生存竞争。在这种尽管我们嘴上不说但却显而易见的竞争中，我们美国人近来变得越来越喜欢荣誉和赞美之辞，而不是真正的成就，这对我们有害无益。于是我们把这些东西看得无比重要。我们乐于降低标准，或者无视现实，如果我们认定这是最简便的或是唯一的方法，能让我们得到某个可以放在壁炉架上炫耀的东西，某个可以拿来一起拍照合影、自吹自擂的东西，某个可以提携我们、让我们在社会等级中获得更高地位的东西。我们看重的甚至不再是输赢，不是学到了什么、成长了多少，或者是否乐在其中……现在我们看重的是“这东西能给我带来什么好处”。其结果就是，我们不再看重奋斗的价值。这种风气具有传染性，在它传播肆虐的过程中，就连悠久古老的韦尔斯利高中也无法幸免——韦尔斯利高中算是全国3.7万所高中里最优秀的之一。在这里，“好”已经不算足够好，成绩良好不过是成绩合格的新叫法，中级水平的课程被称作大学先修课程。刚才我说“最优秀的之一”，希望各位能明白我的意思。我说“最优秀的之一”，这样我们就可以自我感觉更加良好；这样我们就可以悠然自得地沉浸于微不足道的优越感中，尽管它含糊不清、无从查证；这样我们就能把自己划入精英的行列，也不管这个行列中都有些什么人；这样我们就能在自我想象的竞争中，想象自己处于领先的地位。但“最优秀的之一”这一说法却并不合逻辑，就其定义来说，最优秀的只能有一个。要么是你，要么不是你。

如果你们在这里的四年生活中学到了什么，我希望是你们明白了教育的真谛在于获得学习的乐趣，而非物质上的收获。我希望你们还能明白，正如古希腊悲剧诗人索福克莱斯告诉我们的：智慧是幸福的主要元素。其次是冰淇淋……这仅供参考。我还希望你们学到的知识足以让你们意识到自己所知甚少，认识到现在、此时此刻你们所知甚少，因为今天仅仅是个开始。你们从这里走向哪里才是至关重要的。

那么，在你们毕业的此刻，在你们即将乘风飞翔前，我敦促各位无论做什么事，都要只是因为自己喜爱并且相信其重要性才去做的。不要在你不相信的事上浪费时间，正如不要去找一个你根本不爱的伴侣一样。不要贪图享受、沾沾自喜，不要追逐耀眼却华而不实的物质享受，不要自我麻痹、自鸣得意。要发挥自己的优势。还有读书，一直都要读书。把读书当作一个行为准则，当作关乎自尊的一件事。把读书当作人生的营养食粮。要培养并保持道德感，展现道德品质并付诸实践。志存高远，勤奋努力，独立思考。对自己所爱之事、所爱之人，要全心全意地去爱。而这一切，都请带着紧迫感去做，因为时钟每走一秒，就意味着所剩的时间越来越少。正如凡事有始必有终，不管今天下午多么令人愉快，各位都不可能无休止地享受这一盛典，总有曲终人散的时候。

充实的人生、独特的人生、有意义的人生是一项成就，不会因为你是好人就会从天而降，也不会因为你妈妈可以包办就能得到。你会发现开国元勋们费尽周折才保障了你不可剥夺的生存权利、自由权利以及追求幸福的权利——“追求”，一个相当主动的动词——我认为它没有给你留什么空闲，让你能躺在那儿上Youtube网站看鹦鹉溜旱冰。我们的第一位罗斯福总统是位勇猛的老骑兵，他倡导我们过艰苦奋斗的生活。梭罗先生想过简单的生活，希望活得深刻，汲取生命所有的精髓。诗人玛丽·奥利弗要我们划着小船，去中流击水，浪遏飞舟。在这里，有人——我忘了是谁——时常鼓励年轻的学者们要把握时机，活在当下。其核心思想都一样：行动起来，主动出击。不要等着灵感或者激情来找你。站起来，走出去，去探索，靠自己的力量去发现，然后牢牢把握、全力以赴。现在，趁着你还没有冲出去在身上刺个YOLO文身，请允许我指出这句小小的时髦表达的不合逻辑之处——因为你的人生可以而且应该不止就过那么一次，而应该每天都是一个新的人生。与其说“人生只有一次（YOLO）”，倒不如说“人生无法重来（YLOO）”……但因为YLOO给人的感受不太一样，我们只好耸耸肩，觉得不改也没什么大不了。

然而，所谓时不我待，或者人生无法重来，都不应拿来作为自我放纵的借口。正如荣誉本身一样，充实的人生是一个结果，一个带给人成就感的副产品。它是你在思考更为重要的事情时自然而然的结果。

攀登高峰不是为了插上自己的旗帜，而是为了迎接挑战，享受清新的空气，饱览美丽的风景。攀上高峰是为了看世界，而不是为了让世界看到你。去巴黎是为了领略巴黎的风情，而不是为了在旅游清单上划掉巴黎的名字，然后为自己见了世面感到欣喜。运用自由意志、进行创新独立的思考并不是为了自身的满足，而是为了他人的福祉，为了68亿人以及他们子孙后代的福祉。那时，你也会发现人类经验中伟大而又不同寻常的真理——无私是你能为自己做的最了不起的事！只有当你意识到自己并不特别时，才能真正领略到人生最甜美的快乐。

因为每个人都是如此。

（译/辛献云）

A Good Reason to Look Up

When I was in junior high school, what my friends thought of me was real important to me. During those years, I grew much taller than most of my peers. Being so tall made me feel uncomfortable. In order to keep the focus off me and my unusual height, I went along with the crowd who would play practical jokes[57] on other kids at school. Being one of the class clowns gave me a way to make sure that the jokes were directed[58] at others and not at me.

I would pull all kinds of pranks[59] that were hurtful, and sometimes even harmful, to others. Once before gym class, my friends and I put Icy Hot[60] in the gym shorts[61] of one of the kids on the basketball team. Not only was he terribly embarrassed, but he also had to go to the school nurse's office. I thought it was going to be funny, but it all ended up that no one thought it was—least of all[62] my father.

My parents didn't always think that my behavior was funny. They reminded me about the golden rule[63]: to treat others as I would like to be treated. Many times, I was disciplined[64] for the hurtful way that I was treating others. What I was doing was hurting other kids, and in turn hurting my reputation as someone to be looked up to. My friends were looking up to me because I was tall, but what did they see?

My parents wanted me to be a leader who was a good example to others—to be a decent[65] human being. They taught me to set my own goals, and to do the best at everything that I set out to do. During the lectures I got from my father, he told me over and over again to be the leader that I was meant to be—to be a big man in my heart and actions, as well as in my body. I had to question myself whether or not it was important to be the kind of leader and person my father believed I was inside. I knew in my heart that he was right. So I tried my best to follow my father's advice.

Once I focused on being the best that I could be at basketball and became a leader in the game, I took my responsibility to set a good example more seriously. I sometimes have to stop and think before I act, and I make mistakes occasionally—everyone is human. But I continue to look for opportunities where I can make a difference[66], and to set a good example because of my father's advice. I now pass it on to you.

"Be a leader, Shaq, not a follower. Since people already have to look up to you, give them a 'good' reason to do so."

(By Shaquille O'Neal[67])

给仰视一个理由

初中时代，我真的特别在意朋友们对我的看法。那些年里，我比大多数同龄人都高出许多。这么高的个头让我觉得不自在，于是，为了转移别人对我和我那异乎寻常的身高的注意力，我便与那帮总喜欢在学校恶搞其他同学的人为伍。成为班里的活宝之一，能让我有办法来确定那些玩笑都是冲着别人去的，而不是冲我来的。

我总会开各种各样伤人的玩笑，有时那些玩笑甚至会对别人造成伤害。有一次在上体育课前，朋友们和我把Icy Hot止痛贴放进篮球队一位同学的运动短裤里。他不仅尴尬万分，还不得不去校医务室就诊。我本以为这件事儿会挺搞笑的，但是最后谁都不那么想——尤其是我的父亲。

父母并不总认为我的所作所为很搞笑。他们会用那条金科玉律来提醒我：己所不欲，勿施于人。有很多次，我都因为对待别人的方式太伤人而挨了罚。我的所作所为伤害了其他同学，也反过来损害了自己被人仰视的声望。朋友们因为我个子高而仰视我，可他们看到的是什么呢？

我的父母希望我成为一名领导者，成为别人的榜样，成为一个言行得体的人。他们教导我要设定自己的目标，并把要做的每件事都做到最好。在父亲的多次训诫中，他一再叮嘱我要成为自己理应成为的领导者那样——成为一个内心强大、行为得体同时身强体壮的大人物。我不得不反问，自己究竟是否有必要成为父亲认定我骨子里就是的那种领导者和大人物。我心里明白，父亲是正确的，因而我竭尽所能去听从父亲的建议。

从我把精力集中在成为最优秀的篮球运动员和篮球比赛领军人物的那一刻起，我便更加认真地担负起成为别人榜样的使命。有时我得三思而后行，偶尔也会犯下错误——毕竟人无完人嘛。不过，因为有了父亲的建议，我会继续寻求那些能够让我有所作为并且成为一个好榜样的机会。现在，我将父亲给我的建议分享给你。

“沙克，你要成为一名领导者，而非一名追随者。既然人们已经得仰视你，那你就给他们一个仰视你的‘充足’理由吧。”

（译/朵朵）

People Who Have Siblings[68]

In my family, it's just my dad, my mom and me. Yup! I'm the only child. It's very tough[69] to be the only child, having all the attention and focus on you. A lot of people think that being the only child makes me get whatever I want. I always reply to them with a straight-to-the-point[70], "No." I had to work for the things I wanted, I had to maintain my grades and behave well. Sometimes I wished there were other people my parents would pay attention to, not only me, so at least some pressure was taken off.

Once in a while, my friends complain about how their siblings annoy them so much. They tell stories of their brother or sister bossing them around the house, teasing[71] them, and telling on[72] them to their parents. Even though their stories seem like something I too would get very mad at[73], secretly I wish I had what they did. I am indeed quite jealous.

I've always wanted a brother or a sister, ideally[74] an older one. I always mention to my friends that I want one and they reply with an "OMG[75]! Don't say that! You'll regret it!" or "You want mine?" They say that I'm lucky to be the only child, but I'm pretty sure that if they were in my position they would want the same thing. They don't know how it feels to be the "only" one. It does get pretty lonely. You don't really have anyone to talk to at home, and you worry about who's going to be there with you once your parents are gone.

My friend from freshman[76] year had a terrible accident during PE when we were playing Frisbee[77] one time. A guy from the opposing team crashed[78] into her, and her forehead started bleeding a whole lot. They eventually called her brother out of class to wait and take care of her until their mom arrived. I thought it was so cute that he tried to calm her down; it was such a heartfelt[79] moment. The connection they had was what I would call … priceless. I was very jealous knowing that I would never have such a relationship with someone I can call my "brother".

There was also a time when my friend told me that she spent the weekend with her sister. They went shopping and all that good girly stuff. I always imagined that if I did have an older sister, I would tell her everything and we would have a ton of fun! She would be the person I trusted the most, the one that I'd ask for help when I need it.

I overcome my jealousy by surrounding myself with great friends who I can treat as my long-lost siblings. I hope they'll always be there with me through everything because I know I need them.

(By Susan Cifuentes)

那些有兄弟姐妹的人

我家只有我爸、我妈还有我。没错！我是独生女。当独生女很辛苦，因为你集万千关注于一身。很多人认为我是独生女，我就可以得到我想要的任何东西。我总是直截了当地回答他们：“不是这样的。”为了得到我想要的东西，我必须付出努力，必须保持好成绩，而且还要表现良好。有时候我真希望家里还有其他人让父母操心，而不仅仅是我一个人，这样至少我的压力会少一些。

有时候，我的朋友们会抱怨他们的兄弟姐妹如何烦他们。他们讲起自己的哥哥或姐姐在家里老是指使他们做这做那，戏弄他们，还向父母打小报告。尽管他们讲的这些事情好像也会令我非常生气，但私底下我却希望我有这样的经历。我真的特别嫉妒他们。

我一直希望有一个兄弟或姐妹，最好是哥哥或者姐姐。我总是向我的朋友提起我想有个兄弟姐妹，而他们总是回答“天哪，不要那么说，你肯定会后悔的！”或者“那你想要我的兄弟姐妹吗？”他们说我作为独生女很幸运，但我十分肯定，如果他们像我一样也是独生子女的话，肯定也会想要兄弟姐妹的。他们并不知道作为家里“唯一的”孩子是什么感觉。这样真的很孤单。在家里没有人真正可以跟你聊天，而且你会担心一旦父母离开，有谁能与你做伴。

有一次，我们在体育课上玩飞盘的时候，我从中学一年级就认识的一个朋友发生了意外，伤得很重。她被对方队伍的一个人撞了，额头破了，流了很多血。最后他们把她哥哥从教室里喊出来，让他照顾她，一直等到他们的母亲赶来。我一想到她哥哥试图安抚她的情景就觉得很窝心，这是多么情真意切的一幕啊。我觉得他们之间的兄妹情谊是无价的。我知道我这辈子都不可能有这么个人可以让我叫他“哥哥”，因此我十分嫉妒。

我朋友也曾跟我讲过她和她妹妹一起过周末的事情。她们一起逛街，一起做女孩子会做的所有美好的事情。我总是幻想如果我真的有一个姐姐，我会对她无话不说，我们会玩得超级开心！她会是我最信任的人，是我需要帮忙时会去求助的那个人。

置身于很多要好的朋友中间，我克服了我的那份嫉妒，因为我可以把他们当成我失散已久的兄弟姐妹。我希望他们可以一直陪在我身边，与我一起经历一切，因为我知道我需要他们。

（译/王凤娜）

Cheating in Tests

When I was a Senior at E. C. Glass High School in Lynchburg, Virginia during the 1961—1962 school year, we had a mean and nasty teacher named A. J. Fielder, better known as "Happy Jack". Happy Jack taught hard courses in Chemistry and Physics. He gave low grades to his students. Many students needed high grades to get into the college of their choices. Students who were hoping to be at the top of their class or who needed a good mark to be admitted into college avoided taking classes taught by Happy Jack.

However, some students wanted to become physical sciences majors in college, so they felt obliged[80] to take the risk of taking Happy Jack's classes. I was one of those who decided to take the risk. I took chemistry as a junior in high school and physics as a senior in high school.

A crisis developed while I was taking physics. Happy Jack gave very hard tests. Almost all of us got no better than 50 or 60 on these tests. In other words, we were failing. If we failed, we would not be able to go to college at all, much less into the college of our choice.

However, there was one kid in the class who always got 100 on every physics test. His name was Charles Pryor.

Charles Pryor was not regarded as one of the smartest kids in the school. Actually, I was regarded as the smartest kid in the school, although I knew that in reality I was not. There was a mousy[81] little girl named Martha Sue Herley who always got test scores higher than I did. She was not taking physics, but Charles Pryor was.

I had close friends named Jimmy and Johnny Farrar, who were identical twins[82]. They were also among the smartest kids in the school and were taking the same physics class from Happy Jack. I went over to their house many times to discuss this problem.

We knew that something had to be done about this. We were desperate. By getting 100 on every test while the rest of us were getting not more than 60, Charles Pryor was placing us all in a difficult situation. We were all studying hard. We did not think that he was very smart, so it could not have been that he knew the material better than we did.

We finally figured out how he did it.

There were three physics classes, taught in periods 4, 5 and 6. Charles Pryor was in sixth period. Happy Jack gave the same tests to all three periods. Therefore, during period 5 Charles Pryor could meet with a student from period 4 who had just taken the test, find out what the questions were and look up the answers before period 6. In addition, Happy Jack would sit in the back of the classroom while the tests were being taken and grade the tests handed in by the pervious students. Charles Pryor could go to the back of the room to ask the teacher a question, lean over Happy Jack's shoulder and see what answers the other students had given and whether Happy Jack had marked them right or wrong. We became convinced that this was what Charles Pryor was doing.

Now, what to do about this? Finally, we decided to write an anonymous letter to Happy Jack explaining what Charles Pryor was doing. However, we did not want to say that it was Charles Pryor who was doing it. We just said that some student was doing this. I wrote the letter, with editorial help from Jimmy and Johnny Farrar. In order to make sure that nobody would ever know who had written the letter, we put on gloves and bought a new pad of paper from Pearson's Drug Store, so that our fingerprints would not appear on the paper. We went through newspapers and found the words we wanted to write, cut them out with scissors and pasted them with glue from a new bottle of glue onto the paper. We got a new envelope and put the letter in the envelope. We put an obviously fake return address on the letter and put postage stamps on sideways in a distinctive manner. Then, we mailed the letter to Happy Jack.

A few days later, Happy Jack had an announcement to all the physics classes. He read the letter in class. He demanded to know immediately who had written the letter and who the cheating student was. I kept silent and did not raise my hand and neither did Jimmy or Johnny Farrar.

A few days later, Happy Jack gave us another test. However, departing from his usual practice, he did not give the same test to all three classes. Instead, he gave an easy test to the students in period 4. Everybody in that class got 100 on that test. However, he gave an extremely difficult test to the students in periods 5 and 6. His message was clear: "If you do not reveal the name of the cheating student, all of you will flunk[83]. You will not be able to go to college and your futures will be ruined."

I went over to Jimmy and Johnny Farrar's house again. Now, we were really worried. We decided that we had no choice. We wrote another letter.

In the second letter, we also cut out words from a newspaper, provided the same fake return address and glued the stamps on in the same way sideways, details which Happy Jack had never told the classes about. In this way, we could insure that he would know that the persons writing the first letter had also written the second.

The second letter contained only one sentence: "The person referred to in the previous letter is Charles Pryor."

A few days later, I was walking down the high school corridor and I happened to glance through the classroom door and see Happy Jack with my letter in his hand, having a heart-to-heart talk with Charles Pryor. I do not know what happened next and heard nothing more about this.

We all passed and went to college.

For 40 long years since 1961 I have been harboring[84] this secret. In all these years, until today, I have never told anyone about this letter, that I wrote it or that Charles Pryor was the subject of the letter.

Today, after 40 years, I decided to look up Charles Pryor on the Internet, and here is what I found:

Charles W. Pryor has a Ph.D. degree in physics and is the CEO and Chairman of the Board of Westinghouse Electric Corporation, the largest provider of nuclear power plants in the world. Charles W. Pryor won the Academy of Distinguished Alumni Award for 1998.

We must now realize that he was not cheating after all. He was simply better at physics than we were.

(By Sam Sloan)

作弊者

1961～1962学年间，我是弗吉尼亚州林奇堡市E. C. Glass高中毕业班的一名学生。那时有一位教我们的老师为人刻薄，令人讨厌，他叫A. J.菲尔德，不过他更为人所知的名字是“快乐杰克”。快乐杰克教我们化学和物理，课程难度很大，他给学生打分也很低。但很多学生都需要高分以便进入自己心仪的大学，因此那些希望自己在班里名列前茅的学生或那些需要高分进入大学的学生都不选快乐杰克的课。

然而，一些学生想在大学主修物理学专业，因此不得不铤而走险选修快乐杰克的课程。我就是其中一个决定冒险的学生，于是我在11年级时选修了化学，12年级时又选修了物理(编注：美国高中有四年，即9～12年级，分别相当于中国的初三、高一、高二、高三。

在修物理课时，危机降临了。快乐杰克出的几份试卷难度都很大，我们每个人的成绩几乎都不到50或60分。也就是说，我们都没及格。如果考试挂科，我们根本不可能上大学，就更别提进心仪的大学了。

然而，班里却有一个学生例外，他每次物理测试都能得满分。他的名字叫查尔斯·普莱尔。

查尔斯·普莱尔并不是我们学校公认的最聪明的学生之一。事实上，我才被认为是学校里最聪明的学生，尽管我明白实际上并非如此。有一个内向害羞的女孩叫马莎·休·赫利，她的考试成绩就总比我好，但她没有选修物理，而查尔斯·普莱尔选了。

我有两个要好的朋友，吉米和约翰尼·法勒。他俩是双胞胎，长得一模一样。他们也在全校公认最聪明的学生之列，也同样选修了快乐杰克的物理课。于是，我去了他们家好几次，和他们一起商量关于考试成绩的事儿。

我们知道对此我们必须得做点什么，我们都要绝望死了。每次考试查尔斯·普莱尔都得满分，而我们其他所有人都及不了格，查尔斯让我们所有人都处在了难堪的境地，我们可都是刻苦学习的孩子。我们并不觉得他有多聪明，所以他不可能比我们更熟悉所学的物理课内容。

我们最终猜到他是如何考取满分的了。

当时有三个物理班，分别在第四、第五和第六节课上。查尔斯·普莱尔上的是第六节课的那个班。由于快乐杰克总是给三个班出相同的试题，因此，第五节课开始时，查尔斯·普莱尔就能与刚在第四节课上考完试的同学见面，弄清试题内容，并在第六节课开始前查到答案。另外，考试时，快乐杰克总会坐在教室后面，判前一个班的学生交上来的卷子。此时，查尔斯·普莱尔就可以走到教室后面请教快乐杰克问题，从他肩膀上方探着身子查看别人卷子上的答案和他批改的对错情况。我们越来越确信这就是查尔斯·普莱尔的所作所为。

既然如此，那该怎么办呢？最后，我们决定给快乐杰克写一封匿名信，向他说明查尔斯·普莱尔的所为。不过，我们并不想明说作弊的人是查尔斯·普莱尔，因而只说是某学生考试作弊了。我写信，吉米和约翰尼·法勒帮忙修改了一下。为了确保永远不会有人发现写信的人是谁，我们戴上手套，从皮尔逊药店买了一沓新纸，这样我们的指纹就不会留在信纸上。我们仔细地在报纸上搜寻，找到想用的词就用剪刀剪下来，然后用胶水粘在纸上（那瓶胶水也是新买的）。我们买了一个新信封，把那封信放在里面。接着，我们在信封上粘上一个明显虚假的寄信人地址，并以特别的方式斜着贴上邮票。然后，我们把信寄给了快乐杰克。

几天后，快乐杰克在三个物理班上都宣布了一件事。他在课堂上宣读了那封信，要求我们立刻说出写信者是谁，作弊者又是谁。我保持了沉默，没有举手。吉米和约翰尼·法勒也没举手。

又过了几天，快乐杰克又组织了一次测试。然而，这次与以往不同，他没有给三个班出同样的试题。相反，他给上第四节课的学生出了一份非常简单的试题，使那个班所有学生都得了满分。但是，他给上第五节课和第六节课的学生出了一份非常难的试题。他的用意很明显：“如果不说出作弊学生的名字，所有人都别想通过考试。你们都上不了大学，你们的将来也都会毁掉。”

我又一次去了吉米和约翰尼·法勒家。这次，我们真的很担心。我们断定自己别无选择，于是又写了一封信。

第二封信中，我们依旧从报纸上剪下词汇，写上与上次相同的虚假寄信人地址，用同样的方式把邮票斜着贴在信封上——这些细节快乐杰克从来没有在班上提过。这样，我们就可以确保他会知道写第一封信和第二封信的是同一伙人。

第二封信里只有一句话：“上封信中所指的人是查尔斯·普莱尔。”

几天后，我在学校走廊上走着，碰巧透过教室门缝看到快乐杰克手里拿着我写的那封信，正在跟查尔斯·普莱尔促膝长谈。我不知道后来发生了什么事，也再没有听到过关于这件事的任何消息。

我们所有人都通过了考试，上了大学。

自1961年以来的这漫长的40年里，我一直深藏着这个秘密。这么多年，直到今天，我从来没有跟任何人提起过这封信，也从没告诉任何人是我写的那封信或查尔斯·普莱尔是那封信的主题。

40年后的今天，我决定在网上搜索一下关于查尔斯·普莱尔的信息，下面是我找到的资料：

查尔斯·W·普莱尔拥有物理学博士学位，目前担任全球最大的核能供应商西屋电气公司的执行总裁（编注：现已卸任）及董事长。查尔斯·W·普莱尔还荣获了1998年度杰出校友奖。

现在，我们最终意识到当年他并没有作弊。他只是在物理方面学得比我们任何人都好而已。

（译/张倩）

The Champion of Quiet

It was a Tuesday, and Maggie hated Tuesdays. Tuesdays meant one thing: gym class. Gym class meant one thing: picking teams. Picking teams meant one thing: Maggie would be picked last. As always.

Maggie was a new student that year in a class of champions. To help herself remember the other kids, she'd come up with a special title for each one.

There was Kevin, Champion of the Clean Desk; and Lynnie, Champion of Knowing the Answer First; and Caroline, Champion of Tardy[85]. And so on.

She'd had to think long and hard to figure out her own special title. After five whole weeks of school, Maggie had decided. She was the Champion of Quiet.

The Champion of Quiet sat on the gym floor, sandwiched[86] between the Champion of Daydreaming and the Champion of Goofy[87] Jokes. Maggie felt blue. She knew what was coming. She considered changing her title to Champion of Last Pick.

Mr. Murphy, the gym teacher, asked for volunteers to pick the basketball teams. The usual hands shot into the air.

Maggie sighed and glanced to her right. She caught the eye of Jasmine, Champion of Cursive[88] J's. Maggie thought she might like to be Jasmine's friend but never felt brave enough to talk to her.

Looking at Jasmine, Maggie realized that Jasmine seemed a little blue, too. Maggie thought, I'm not the only one picked last. Sometimes Jasmine is picked last, too. With that, the Champion of Quiet had an idea.

Mr. Murphy asked, "Anyone else want to volunteer today?"

Maggie felt her hand slowly rise. She looked again at Jasmine and took a big breath. Maybe it was time for the Champion of Quiet to use her voice.

"Maggie?" Mr. Murphy smiled. "You want a turn?"

Do I? Maggie wondered. "Yes," she said.

The class murmured, "Maggie leading a team?"

"Yes," she answered again, louder this time. Her voice shook just a little.

"What's stopping you, then?" Mr. Murphy waved Maggie to the front of the gym, where the other three captains—Champion of Jumping Rope on One Foot, Champion of Never Misses a Shot, and Champion of Doesn't Know How to Lose—stood, ready to choose their teams.

"Maggie, you get first pick," said Mr. Murphy.

"Jasmine," announced the Champion of Quiet.

The class snickered[89]. Was this a joke? More than once, Jasmine had tried to score on the wrong basket.

Maggie smiled and repeated, "Jasmine."

Eyes wide, Jasmine took her place beside Maggie.

The other three captains called out familiar names—the best players on the basketball court.

It was Maggie's turn again. "I choose Jamie."

Jamie, Champion of the Untied Shoelace, could not dribble[90], throw, or catch. He knew what it felt like to be the last pick. But not today: Jamie jogged[91] to stand next to Jasmine. He tripped[92] only once. The class sat in shock.

So it went. The names flowed from Maggie's mouth, sounding sure and strong. The stronger she sounded, the stronger she felt.

Three very talented teams took shape. And then there was Maggie's.

Maggie looked at her teammates. There stood Jasmine and Jamie, plus Gillian (Champion of Hugs) and George (Champion of Very Big Musical Instrument). They were grinning at Maggie.

Maggie grinned back. I have chosen the worst team in the history of the world, she thought.

The Champion of Quiet walked onto the court with her team close behind, ready to face players who were bigger and better.

Game on!

The basketball slipped through Jamie's fingers, skated around Jasmine, dribbled itself away from George and Gillian, and bounced off Maggie's head—twice. Their laughter echoed throughout the gym.

Clutching[93] the ball and out of breath from running and giggling, Maggie heard Jasmine call out, "Mags! Pass the ball to me!"

I have a nickname, Maggie thought happily. She threw the ball to Jasmine.

Of course, Jasmine missed. They were indeed the Worst Team in the History of the World. And they did what any Worst Team would do. They lost. They lost big.

But losing a basketball game doesn't make you a loser; Maggie knew that much. Maggie grinned at her team. We are, officially, the Champions of No Score, she thought. Awesome.

The Champion of Quiet walked off the court with her new friends. And as the group made plans to sit together at lunch, Maggie was no longer surprised to hear her own voice joining the noisy chorus[94].

Maggie was a new student that year in a class of champions.

(By Tracy Stewart)

沉默大王

那天是星期二，麦琪很不喜欢星期二。因为星期二意味着一件事：要去上体育课。去上体育课则意味着一件事：要挑选队友组成球队。挑选队友组成球队又意味着一件事：麦琪又要等到最后才会有人要。通常都是如此。

那一年，麦琪刚刚来到这个拥有各种“大王”称号的班上。为了帮自己记住其他同学的名字，她给每位同学都想了一个特别的称号。

凯文是“桌面整洁大王”，琳妮是“首个想到答案大王”，卡罗琳是“拖沓大王”，诸如此类。

她努力想了半天，想给自己也取一个特别的称号。上了整整五个星期的学之后，麦琪决定了，她是“沉默大王”。

这位“沉默大王”坐在体育馆的地板上，被“白日梦大王”和“冷笑话大王”夹在中间。麦琪感到沮丧，因为她知道自己即将面临的是什么。她考虑要把自己的称号改为“最后才有人要的大王”。

体育老师墨菲先生问谁愿意主动挑选队友组成篮球队，一向积极参与的那些学生迅速举起了手。

麦琪叹了口气，朝自己的右边瞥了一眼。她将目光投向“草书大王J”贾思敏。麦琪觉得自己可能挺想和贾思敏成为朋友的，却从未鼓起勇气跟她讲过话。

看着贾思敏，麦琪意识到她似乎也有些沮丧。麦琪心想，等到最后才有人要的人不止我一个，贾思敏有时也要等到最后才会被选中。一想到这儿，这位“沉默大王”萌生了一个想法。

墨菲先生问道：“今天还有谁愿意主动挑选队友吗？”

麦琪发现自己的手缓缓地举了起来。她又看了贾思敏一眼，使劲吸了一口气。也许该到“沉默大王”开口说话的时候了。

“麦琪？”墨菲先生笑了笑。“你想要试一下吗？”

要不要呢？麦琪犹豫了一下。“是的。”她回答道。

全班同学都小声嘀咕起来。麦琪要领队？

“是的。”她又回答了一遍。这次声音更加洪亮，只是稍微抖了一下。

“那你还在等什么呢？”墨菲先生挥手示意麦琪站到体育馆的前面去。其他三位队长——“单脚跳绳大王”“大满贯大王”和“不知失败为何物大王”——都已经在前面站好，准备挑选队员组成自己的球队。

“麦琪，你先选吧。”墨菲先生说。

“贾思敏。”这位“沉默大王”宣布道。

全班开始窃笑。这不是在开玩笑吧？贾思敏曾不止一次试图将球投入自己队的篮筐中。

麦琪笑了笑，又重复了一遍：“贾思敏。”

贾思敏眼睛睁得溜圆，站在了麦琪旁边。

其他三位队长叫出的依然是那些常被点到的名字——那些篮球场上最出色的运动员。

又轮到麦琪挑选队员了。“我选择杰米。”

杰米这位“不系鞋带大王”既不会运球、投球，也不会接球。他了解那种最后才被选中的感觉。但今天却是个意外。杰米慢吞吞地走到贾思敏旁边站定，其间只被鞋带绊了一次。座位上的同学都惊呆了。

挑选队员就这样进行着。一个个名字接二连三地从麦琪的口中冒出，听起来坚定而有力。麦琪喊名字喊得越有力，就感觉自己越勇气十足。

三支球技高超的球队组成了，接着麦琪的球队也组好了。

麦琪看了看她的队友。站在身旁的有贾思敏和杰米，还有吉莉安(“拥抱大王”）和乔治（“拥有特大号乐器大王”），他们都咧着嘴冲麦琪笑。

麦琪也朝他们笑了笑。我已经组建了一支世界历史上最差劲的球队，她心想。

这位“沉默大王”走上球场，她的球队紧随其后，准备好去面对比他们更强大、更出色的球员。

比赛开始了！

篮球从杰米的指间快速滑过，又掠过贾思敏，弹跳着经过乔治和吉莉安，最终从麦琪的头上弹开了。这种情形出现了两次。他们的笑声回荡在整个体育馆内。

麦琪紧紧抓着球，因为奔跑和傻笑而气喘吁吁。她听到贾思敏大喊一声：“小麦！把球传给我！”

“我有昵称了。”麦琪开心地想，将球传给了贾思敏。

果然，贾思敏没能接住球。他们的确是“世界历史上最差劲的球队”，也发挥出了“最差劲球队”应有的水平。他们输了比赛，输得很惨。

不过，输掉一场篮球比赛并不意味着就是失败者，麦琪深知这一点。她朝队友们笑了笑。我们正式成为“一分未得大王”，她心想。太棒了。

这位“沉默大王”和她的新朋友们走下了球场。自从这群伙伴打算坐在一起吃午饭以后，喧闹的讨论声中就加入了麦琪的声音。对此，麦琪再也不会感觉不可思议。

那一年，麦琪以全新的面貌出现在了这个拥有各种“大王”称号的班上。

（译/赵越）

Roll Call[95]

The boy closed his eyes. He hated this moment. Knowing it was coming just made it worse.

"John, John Dillon?" the teacher called out. The boy opened one eye a tiny bit. He saw a blond kid in the next row raise his hand and say "Here!" with a big smile. He had perfect teeth. All the girls turned to look at him. His smile got bigger.

"Jennifer, Jennifer Farnsworth?" the teacher continued. The boy put both hands on his head as if he could hide if he just pushed down hard enough. A girl with long, flowing[96] hair and a butterfly pin[97] above her ear raised her hand. "It's Jen," she said. "Just Jen."

The boy thought she was the prettiest girl he had ever seen. He noticed that John Dillon turned slightly in his seat and winked[98] at her. Of course, he thought. How typical! The perfect boy and the perfect girl already found one another. Life was so unfair.

He folded his arms and rested his head on them, completely covering his head with his hands. The teacher hesitated. He knew that meant she had come to his place on the class attendance list. Finally, he heard what he had dreaded[99] all morning. "Myron, Myron …" There was a long pause. "Glebschnockerwatz?"

He clenched[100] his teeth, waiting for the snickers[101] to come, and then slightly raised his index finger[102]. The teacher didn't see it. She looked down again at her class list and said in an even louder voice. "Myron H. Z. Glebschnockerwatz?" Oh, no! Have mercy! The boy sat bolt upright[103] as if from an electric shock. But it was too late. "Myron Herman Zoltran Glebschnockerwatz?"

This time the class all erupted[104] in laughter. Myron's face turned beet red[105] as he raised his hand. "Here," he said in a timid voice. "Hush[106]!" the teacher scolded the class while giving him a sympathetic look. She returned to her class list. "Hank, Hank Henderson?"

Myron just wanted to disappear under his desk. When the class ended, he wondered why he didn't hear the cruel taunts[107] of his fellow students. They were all crowding together and pushing toward the promised freedom[108] of the hallway.

John Dillon bumped[109] him from behind, causing Myron to pitch[110] forward right into the back of Jennifer Farnsworth. Jennifer whirled around clutching her books tightly to her chest. "You bumped me!" Myron was about to apologize when John Dillon stepped from behind him. "It was my fault," he said. "I accidentally knocked—hey, what's your name again?"

Oh sure, Myron thought. That old trick. Pretend to forget my name so that you can make fun of it by forcing me to say it out loud. Might as well get it over with[111]. "Myron," he whispered. "My name's Myron Glebschnockerwatz."

To his surprise, John didn't even try to taunt or tease[112]. Instead, he just gave him a friendly slap on the back. "Right, Myron. I won't forget." Jennifer smiled at him. "Sorry I blamed you, Myron."

Myron was so surprised he just stood there as the rest of the class filed out[113] around him. He pushed his thick glasses higher on his nose.

It was then he saw the writing on the board. He had kept his head down and his glasses off in class. This was the first time he was seeing the teacher's name written in big purple letters:

Miss Bighewjnozbumfoot.

Myron smiled for the first time that morning. Maybe this school year wouldn't be so bad after all.

(By Daniel Maclaine)

点名

男孩闭上眼睛。他讨厌这一刻。知道这一刻就要来了只能让情况更糟糕。

“约翰，约翰·狄龙？”老师大声叫道。男孩微微睁开一只眼，看到旁边一队里一个金发男孩笑容满面地举起手喊：“到！”他的牙齿洁白而整齐。所有的女孩都转过去看他。他笑得更灿烂了。

“珍妮弗，珍妮弗·法恩斯沃思？”老师接着叫道。男孩双手搭在头上，好像只要他用力往下压就能找个地方躲起来似的。一个长发垂顺、耳翼上方别着蝴蝶结的女生举起手来。她说：“我叫珍，就叫我珍吧。”

男孩觉得这是他见过的最漂亮的女孩。他看到约翰·狄龙在座位上微微侧了侧身，冲珍眨了眨眼。意料之中的事，他心里想，太典型了——完美男孩和完美女孩一见倾心。生活真是太不公平了。

他把两只胳膊交叠在一起，将头枕在上面，用两只手把头完全遮了起来。老师犹豫了一下。他知道那意味着老师已经念到班级出勤簿上他的名字了。他最终还是听到了那让他怕了整整一上午的声音：“迈伦，迈伦——”老师顿了很长时间。“格雷布什诺科瓦兹？”

他紧咬牙齿，只等着窃笑声起，然后轻轻竖起食指。老师没看到是谁。她又低头看了一眼花名册，然后更大声地叫道：“迈伦·H·Z·格雷布什诺科瓦兹？”哦，不要！发发善心吧！男孩像触了电似的，噌地一下坐直了。但还是太晚了。“迈伦·赫尔曼·佐尔特兰·格雷布什诺科瓦兹？”

这一次，全班爆笑起来。迈伦举起手来，脸涨得通红，羞怯地答了声“到”。“安静！”老师斥责全班同学，同时向他报以同情的一瞥。她继续点名：“汉克，汉克·亨德森？”

迈伦只想在桌子底下找个地缝钻进去。下课后，他奇怪同学们为什么没刻薄地奚落他，原来他们蜂拥着冲向那期望中的自由之地——走廊。

约翰·狄龙从后面撞了他一下，他身子前倾撞上了珍妮弗·法恩斯沃思的后背。珍妮弗猛地转过身来，两手紧握书本，挡在胸前说：“你撞到我了！”迈伦正要跟她道歉，约翰·狄龙从他身后走上前来。“是我的错，”他说，“是我不小心撞到了——对了，你叫什么名字来着？”

好哇，迈伦想，又来这一套。假装忘了我的名字，逼我大声说出来，然后好趁机取笑我。不如早点了事。“迈伦，”他轻声说：“我叫迈伦·格雷布什诺科瓦兹。”

出乎他意料的是，约翰并没有奚落或者嘲弄他的想法，而只是友好地拍了一下他的后背。“好的，迈伦，我记住了。”珍妮弗也对他笑着说：“对不起，我错怪你了，迈伦。”

迈伦惊讶得呆立在原地，其他同学从他身边绕过去，鱼贯而出。他把厚厚的眼镜往鼻梁上方推了推。

直到这时，他才看到黑板上的板书。上课期间，他一直低着头，眼镜也没有戴。这是他第一次看到老师的名字，只见紫色的大字写着：

比格休诺兹布姆弗特（Bighewjnozbumfoot）小姐。

整整一个上午，迈伦第一次露出了笑容。毕竟，这个学年或许不至于太糟糕了。

（译/罗水香）

No-hair Day

If you are turning 16, you stand in front of the mirror observing every inch of your face. You agonize[114] that your nose is too big and you're getting another pimple[115], your hair isn't blonde, and that boy in your English class has not noticed you yet.

Alison never had those problems. Two years ago, she was a beautiful, popular and smart eleventh-grader, not to mention[116] a varsity lacrosse goalie[117] and an ocean lifeguard. With her tall, slender[118] body, pool-blue eyes and thick blonde hair, she looked more like a swimsuit model than a high school student. But during that summer, something changed.

After a day of lifeguarding, Alison couldn't wait to get home, rinse[119] the saltwater out of her hair and comb through the tangles. She flipped her mane[120] forward. "Ali!" her mother cried, "What did you do?" She discovered a bare patch of skin on the top of her daughter's scalp[121]." Did you shave it? Could someone else have done it while you were sleeping?" Quickly, they solved the mystery—Alison must have wrapped the elastic band too tightly around her ponytail. The incident was soon forgotten.

Three months later, another bald spot was found, then another. Soon, Alison's scalp was dotted with peculiar[122] quarter-sized bare patches. After diagnoses of "it's just stress" with remedies of ointments[123], a specialist began to give injections to each spot. To mask her scalp, bloody from the shots, Alison was granted permission to wear a hat to school, normally a violation[124] of the strict uniform code. Little strands[125] of hair would push through the scabs[126], only to fall out two weeks later. Alison was suffering but nothing would stop it.

Alison's sunny spirit and supportive friends kept her going, but there were some low points. Like the time when her little sister came into her bedroom with a towel wrapped around her head to have her hair combed. When her mother untwisted the towel, Alison watched the thick hair bounce around her sister's shoulders. Gripping all of her limp hair between two fingers, she burst into tears. It was the first time she had cried since the whole experience began.

As time went on a bandanna[127] replaced the hat, which could no longer conceal her balding scalp. With only a small handful of strands left, the time had come to buy a wig[128]. Instead of buying a long blonde one, pretending as though nothing had been lost, Alison bought a shoulder-length auburn[129] one. Why not? People cut and dyed their hair all the time. With her new look, Alison's confidence strengthened. But as the summer approached, Alison worried. If she couldn't wear a wig in the water, how could she lifeguard again? "Why? Did you forget how to swim?" Her father asked. She got the message.

After wearing an uncomfortable swimming cap for only one day, she mustered up the courage[130] to go completely bald. Despite the impolite stares and comments— "Why do you crazy kids shave your heads?" —Alison adjusted to[131] her new look.

She arrived back at school that fall with no hair, no eyebrows, no eyelashes, and with her wig put away somewhere in the back of her closet. As she had always planned, she would run for school president, changing her campaign speech only slightly. Presenting a slide show on many famous bald leaders like Gandhi, Alison had the students and faculty rolling in the aisles[132].

In her first speech as the elected president, Alison talked of her condition, quite comfortably answering questions. Dressed in a T-shirt with the words "Bad Hair Day" printed across the front, she pointed to her shirt and said, "When most of you wake up in the morning and don't like how you look, you may put on this T-shirt." Putting on another T-shirt over it, she continued, "When I wake up in the morning, I put on this one." It read, "No-Hair Day." Everybody cheered and applauded. And Alison, beautiful, popular and smart—not to mention varsity goalie, ocean lifeguard and now, school president—smiled back from the podium[133].

(By Jennifer Rosenfeld and Alison Lambert)

无发日

如果你快到16岁，站在镜子前仔细观察自己的脸。你发现自己的鼻子太大，脸上又长了一颗痘痘，头发不是金黄色的，英语课上的那个男孩还没注意到自己，这一切都会令你痛苦不已。

艾利森从不为这些问题烦恼。两年前，她是个漂亮的姑娘，上11年级，有人缘又聪明。此外，她还是学校曲棍球队守门员和海滩救生员。她身材高挑修长，湛蓝的眼睛，一头浓密的金发，看上去不像学生倒更像泳装模特。但是那年夏天，情况有些变化。

一次，艾利森当了一整天的救生员后，迫不及待地想回家冲掉发间咸咸的海水，再梳理一下纠结成团的头发。她把浓密的长发甩到了脸前。“艾利！”她母亲叫道：“你干什么了？”她发现女儿头顶秃了一块。“是你剃的吗？会不会是你睡觉时别人剃的？”很快她们解开了谜团——艾利森肯定是用皮筋把马尾辫扎得太紧。这件事很快就被淡忘了。

三个月之后，她头上又出现了一块秃斑，接着又是另外一块。艾利森的头皮很快布满了少见的25美分硬币大小的秃斑。诊断认为不过是“压力过大”，治疗办法是局部涂药膏，一位专科医生开始给她的每处秃斑注射药物。为了遮盖她因注射而血迹斑斑的头皮，艾利森获准可以戴着帽子上学——通常这可是违反学校严格的着装规定的。小撮头发会从痂疤里钻出来，但长两周之后就脱落了。艾利森很遭罪，但她的病无药可治。

艾利森性格开朗，朋友们也对她予以支持，这使她生活依旧，但有时还是会出现低谷。比如，一次妹妹头裹毛巾，走进她卧室梳头。当妈妈把毛巾解开时，艾利森看到一团浓密的头发在妹妹肩头荡来荡去。艾利森用两个指头紧紧夹住仅有的软塌塌的头发，眼泪夺眶而出。这是她脱发以来第一次流泪。

随着时间推移，她戴帽子也无法遮掩住变秃的头皮，只得改扎一块大手帕。后来当剩下一小把头发时，她不得不买了顶假发。不过艾利森并没有买顶长长的金色假发，假装不曾有过脱发，相反，她买了一个齐肩的赭色假发。为什么不呢？人们一直都在剪发和染发。艾利森的新形象增强了她的信心。但随着夏天的临近，艾利森变得焦虑不安。如果在水里不能戴假发，她可怎么再当救生员呢？“怎么了？难道你忘了如何游泳吗？”父亲问道。艾利森明白了父亲的意思。

她只有一天戴着一顶别扭的泳帽，后来就鼓起勇气露出了光头。尽管有不礼貌的目光和诸如“你们这些疯狂的小孩为什么要剃光头？”之类的话语，艾利森还是适应了自己的新形象。

那年秋天返校时，艾利森光着头，眉毛和睫毛都掉光了，假发也被她塞到了衣橱深处。按照先前的计划，她仍参加了学生会主席的竞选，只对竞选演讲稿做了细微的调整。艾利森展示了一个幻灯片，里面有许多像甘地一样的著名领导人的秃顶照片，引得学生们和教职员工捧腹大笑。

当选主席后，艾利森在首次讲话中说到了自己的病情，并对种种提问应答自如。她身穿一件胸前印有“糟糕发型日”一行字的T恤。她指着自己的T恤说：“当你们多数人早晨醒来不喜欢自己的样子时，不妨穿上这件T恤。”她又套上另一件T恤，接着说：“但早晨醒来，我会穿上这件。”上面印着：“无发日”。听到这儿，大家都欢呼鼓掌。聪明美丽又受人欢迎的艾利森——更别提她是校队守门员、海滩救生员，如今又是学生会主席——在讲台上对此报以微笑。

（译/周宇）

Drawer of Memories

"Angela," her mother began, "let's plan something really special for your 16th birthday. Why I remember my sweet sixteen party …"

"Stop it, Mom! Please just stop it!" Angela wailed[134], clenching[135] her fists as she fought back tears. "I've already told you, without Dad here, I don't want to celebrate my birthday!"

"Now look here, young lady. You do not speak to me in that tone of voice," Barbara said. She added softly, "I know how much you miss your dad. We all do, but he'd want you to celebrate this important day."

"We don't know what he wants! He's dead!" After running up the stairs and slamming her bedroom door, Angela threw herself across the bed and sobbed.

It's so unfair! Why did it have to be my dad? Why couldn't it have been someone else's dad? Like that horrible Sarah Jennings … No, no, I don't really mean that. But why Dad? Why did he have to go into work that day anyway? He knew the roads were bad, but he just had to go. Mom should've stopped him, but she said he'd be fine. She lied!

Angela rolled over, and tears slid down her freckled[136] cheeks. The doorbell rang. Muffled[137] voices drifted[138] up, and then her mother called out, "Angela, Sandy's here to see you."

Angela jumped up. She wiped angrily at her wet eyes before heading downstairs. I don't want Sandy to know I've been crying, she thought. She'll go and blab[139] to everyone at school.

Angela attempted a smile when she saw Sandy. "Hi Sandy. What's up?"

"Hey Angela. I'm going to the mall to shop and maybe see a movie. You want to come?" Sandy asked cheerfully.

Angela looked down at the floor and answered, "Gee Sandy, that sounds like fun, but Mom wants me to clean up the garage."

"Now Angela, the garage can wait," her mom interjected[140].

"No, Mom, I have to do it. It's my responsibility. Maybe some other time, Sandy. Have fun, okay?"

Angela hurried back up to her room. She sat in her window seat watching her friend leave.

How could Sandy think I would be interested in shopping or a movie? Nobody understands! Everybody expects me to continue on, business as usual. It's only been two months since Dad died. Has everyone else forgotten him?

As Barbara was getting into her car she sadly looked up at Angela's window. Angela ducked[141] out of sight until her mother was gone.

I don't know why she even bothers to go to the beauty shop now. Maybe she just wants to impress her friends at lunch.

Angela decided to go work in the garage. Her father's presence filled every shadowy corner. She could even catch a faint whiff[142] of his cologne. A row of birdhouses lined the workbench. Some were not yet complete. Angela decided to finish one and place it in the tree next to her father's grave.

Bending down to get some paints from under the bench, something unusual caught her eye. Angela pulled a soft cloth off of a beautiful walnut jewelry chest with glass doors. She carefully opened them to reveal[143] four drawers lined in red velvet. In the bottom drawer lay an envelope addressed to her in her father's handwriting. Angela held it to her cheek, then opened it. Several small pieces of paper drifted to the floor, but Angela ignored them, anxious to read the letter inside.

Dear Angela,

Happy 16th birthday. I wish for you success that will enable you to fill this chest with the rarest of gems[144].

But no matter how many or how precious the jewels are that you store in this chest, none will be as valuable as memories. So always keep a drawer of memories to help you through the low times. I have put some of my favorite memories in this drawer. Some of them I have shared with you, some of them I would like to share with you, and some memories cannot be shared.

I hope you will add to the memories in this drawer. As long as it is full you will always be wealthy.

Love,

Dad

With shaking fingers, Angela opened each small piece of paper. The neatly printed words overwhelmed[145] her senses with memories. She could hear leaves crackling[146] underfoot as she and her father walked through the mountains in autumn. The sound of rain drumming on their summer cabin's tin roof filled her ears. She could smell the cedar[147] they had gathered for the mantle[148] at Christmas and the flowers they had picked in the spring. She could taste ice-cold water from a mountain stream. She savoured[149] the hotdogs from their favorite lunch spot. She saw frost glittering[150] in the light of a golden harvest moon while her father drove her to a camp. She saw the wild beauty of the Shenandoah River[151] as she and her father floated along. She felt the wind caressing[152] her cheek as they looked down from a mountaintop. She recalled her father's story of walking to school, five miles, barefoot, at night, in the snow, carrying his little sister on his back. It was the story he always used when she complained too much.

Angela felt her father's presence emanating[153] from the words she held. She now realized that even though he was gone, he would always be with her. Angela decided that the first memory she would add to the drawer would be about her upcoming birthday. She would have her friends over and celebrate, just the way her father would have wanted.

Angela heard her mother's car pull up[154] outside. She clutched the chest tightly and walked into the sunny day to meet her mother.

(By Melissa O. Markham)

回忆的抽屉

“安杰拉，”妈妈开口说道，“我们一起来为你的16岁生日做些别出心裁的安排吧。我可记得我那次美好的16岁生日宴会，因为……”

“别说了，妈妈！拜托你别再说了！”安杰拉伤心地喊道，她握紧拳头，硬生生把欲夺眶而出的泪水逼了回去。“我已经说过了，爸爸不在这里，我根本不想庆祝生日！”

“听着，小姑娘。不准用那种语气和我说话，”芭芭拉说，接着语气又转温柔，“我知道你有多想爸爸，我们都很想念他，但他一定也希望你能好好庆祝这个重要的日子。”

“我们哪里会知道他是怎么想的！他已经死了！”安杰拉跑上楼，砰的一声摔上她卧室的房门，一头扑在床上抽泣起来。

上天太不公平了！为什么偏偏是我的爸爸？为什么就不能是别人的爸爸？比如那个讨厌的萨拉·詹宁斯……不，不，我并不是真那么想的。但为什么是爸爸？为什么他那天非要去上班？他明明知道路况不好，但他不得不去。妈妈本该拦下他的，可她却说不会有事。她骗我！

安杰拉翻过身来，眼泪顺着她点点雀斑的双颊滑落下来。这时门铃响了，楼上传来一阵压低嗓门说话的声音，随后，就听见妈妈大声说道：“安杰拉，桑迪来看你了。”

安杰拉从床上跳了起来。她气愤地擦干眼泪，走下楼去。我可不想让桑迪知道我在哭，她暗自想，她会去学校胡说八道的。

看见桑迪，安杰拉努力挤出一丝笑容。“嗨，桑迪。找我有事吗？”

“嗨，安杰拉。我想去商场买点东西，可能再去看场电影。想一起去吗？”桑迪兴高采烈地问道。

安杰拉垂下头，望着地板说：“噢，桑迪，听上去可真不错，不过我妈妈要我打扫一下车库。”

“没关系，安杰拉，打扫车库不着急。”她妈妈插话道。

“不，妈妈，我必须打扫车库。这是我的职责。桑迪，咱们改天再约吧。祝你玩得开心，好吗？”

安杰拉快步跑上楼回到自己的房间。她坐在窗边，看着朋友离开。

桑迪怎么会认为我还有兴趣去购物或看电影呢？没人能理解我！每个人都希望我能一如既往地生活下去。可爸爸去世才两个月啊，难道其他人都已经把他忘掉了吗？

当芭芭拉准备钻进车里时，她抬头忧伤地看了看安杰拉房间的窗户。安杰拉急忙弯下身躲开妈妈的视线，直到她开车离去。

真不明白为什么她现在还能花心思去美容院，也许她只是想在午餐时给朋友们留下好印象。

安杰拉决定去车库里干点活儿。在那里的每个阴凉角落，她都能感觉到父亲的存在，甚至还能闻到父亲身上淡淡的古龙香水味。工作台上摆了一排鸟舍，其中有一些还没做完。安杰拉决定做好一个，然后把它放到父亲墓边的那棵树上。

她弯腰准备到台下取些油漆，目光却被一件特别的东西吸引住了。安杰拉掀开一块软布，软布下面是一只漂亮的胡桃木首饰匣，镶嵌着玻璃门。她小心翼翼地打开玻璃门，里面露出了四个垫着红色天鹅绒的抽屉。在最下面的那个抽屉里放着一个信封，收信人署名是她，那是爸爸的笔迹。安杰拉捧起信封紧紧贴在脸颊上，然后才打开它。几张小纸片飘落到地板上，但安杰拉没有在意，她迫不及待地读起里面的那封信来。

亲爱的安杰拉：

16岁生日快乐。我衷心地祝你成功，可以在这个首饰匣里装满世上最稀有的宝石。

但无论你在这个匣子中存放了多少宝石，无论这些宝石有多么贵重，它们都没有你的回忆珍贵。所以，请永远留出一个抽屉来储存回忆，它能帮助你走过人生的低谷。我已经在这里放了我最心爱的一些回忆，这些回忆，有的我已与你分享，有的我希望能与你分享，还有的，我愿独自品尝。

我希望，你能不断往这个抽屉里添加新的回忆。抽屉里装满回忆，你将永远富有。

爱你的爸爸

安杰拉用颤抖的手指打开了每一张小纸片。读着上面印刷整齐的话语，她的脑海里顿时充斥了各种各样的回忆。她听到了，那时正是秋天，她和父亲在山间穿行，落叶踩在脚下噼啪作响；她还听到了，那是夏天的雨水在他们避暑小屋的锡顶上敲打出咚咚的鼓点。她闻到了雪松的气味，那是他们在圣诞节砍来做壁炉架的；她还闻到了鲜花的芬芳，那是春天时和爸爸一起摘来的。她又喝到了山谷里那清冽的溪水，吃到了他们午餐最爱去的那家店里的热狗。有一晚父亲开车带她去野外露营，金色满月下，她看到了冷霜在流泻的清辉中闪闪发光；有一次她和爸爸顺谢南多厄河漂流，谢南多厄河那未经雕琢的野性之美仍历历在目。她可以感觉到山风抚过面颊，当时他们正站在高高的山顶往下眺望。她记起父亲当年背着他的小妹妹，赤着脚，顶着大雪，连夜步行五英里（编注：约八千米）地去上学的故事。每当她满腹牢骚时，爸爸总会给她讲这个故事。

捧着这些纸片，安杰拉感到字里行间都散落着爸爸的音容笑貌。现在她终于意识到，尽管爸爸已不在人世，他还是会一直陪伴在她身边。安杰拉决定，她要往这个抽屉里放入的第一份回忆就是她即将到来的生日。她要把朋友们都约过来，好好庆祝一番，正如她爸爸所希望的那样。

这时，安杰拉听到妈妈在外面停车的声音。她紧紧握住匣子，走出去迎接妈妈，屋外正是阳光灿烂。

（译/张玲）

My Retainer Has Me Bent out of Shape

Dear Retainers,

Why are you torturing[155] me? I thought you were supposed to be keeping my teeth straight with the benefit of no braces[156]! Yet I wake up every morning to see that my overbite[157] is slowly coming back and the rows of teeth aren't aligned[158]. Do you have any idea what I went through to get you? Now I don't think you're even helping me anymore.

First of all, I wasted two precious years of my life waiting for your arrival. Those braces were murder on my teeth. You didn't experience the pain I had to go through! Almost every week, I replaced my old wires, got a tighter one with a chain of rubber bands, and an additional two rubber bands to fix my overbite. By getting braces, I had the "wonderful" opportunity to choose from a wide variety of soups. The categories stretched from tomato soup to clam[159] chowder[160] to delicious mushroom soup. For two years, 104 weeks, 728 days, soup became more than 90 percent of my diet. What do I have to show for my sacrifice? The object in repayment for my hurt is a hunk of[161] plastic that doesn't really aid me in any way.

I will admit that you kept my teeth in order for a few months. However, recently I think you're snoozing[162] on the job. After brushing my teeth and slipping[163] you on, I see that you don't even fit correctly over my teeth anymore. During some nights, you don't even stay on the whole time. I wake up some days and feel nothing in my mouth. Then I have to take more time to thoroughly search my bed to see where you've hidden yourself. Do you realize how frustrated[164] I am?

Don't even get me started on how you affect my language. If I were to say this sentence: "Can you pass me the bottle of water?" it would come out sounding like, "Ken you peth me the ball of wudu?" Now I don't even attempt saying words like rewind, reconnect, replay or anything else that starts with "re". In general, you steal my ability to talk efficiently. In math class, I stand up in front of the students trying to explain a math equation[165], but do you know what comes out of my mouth? It's just a string of mumbled[166] words and I have to use all my strength enunciating[167] the repeated explanation. The ridicule[168] I get from my friends is almost unbearable. My ears practically ache when I hear them mimicking[169] my incorrect pronunciation. I can't stand it anymore!

You better shape up[170] or I'll have to take action. I won't allow this kind of insolence[171] anymore. I wash you, clean you and take care of you, yet this is how you repay me? I don't understand why it's so difficult for you to do something for me in return. If this continues, I'll be forced to replace you with something better.

Wanting some changes.

Hana

(By Hana Jang)

牙套，你把我气疯了

亲爱的牙套：

你为什么要折磨我？你原本以为你可以让我的牙不用牙箍就能竖直整齐了！可是我每天早上醒来却只看到我牙齿的覆咬合部分在慢慢变回老样子，而上下两排牙却仍然对不齐。你可知道我花了多大工夫才把你装上？可现在，我觉得你对我半点用处都没有。

首先，为了等待你的到来，我浪费了两年的宝贵时间。在那两年里，那些牙箍简直快杀了我的牙。你肯定没尝过那些我不得不忍受的痛苦吧。几乎是每周，我都要用带有橡胶圈的更紧的钢丝来换掉旧的，同时要用另外两条橡皮圈来修正我的牙齿覆咬合部分。戴牙箍使我有了“难得”的机会来品尝各种汤。我喝过的汤品种齐全——从西红柿汤到蛤杂烩汤再到鲜美的蘑菇汤都有。两年，一百零四周，七百二十八天！我百分之九十的食物都是汤。我做出的牺牲难道还不够吗？可我这些痛苦付出所换来的回报又是什么？仅仅是一大块对我没有任何帮助的塑料。

是的，我承认，你是让我的牙齿规矩了几个月。但在最近，我怀疑你是不是在上班时间打盹儿了。每次刷牙后把你放进去，我都发现你甚至和我的牙齿一点都不吻合了。有些晚上，你甚至不能坚守岗位。许多次早上醒来时，我都发现嘴里空空如也，然后就需要花更多的时间把床上搜个遍，看你到底躲在哪儿了。你知道那个时候，我有多受挫吗？

更不要让我提你有多影响我说话。比如我想说：“请您把那瓶水递给我好吗？”结果听起来就会像“欺你扒那喷雪吉给我好吗？”我现在都不想尝试说像“重绕”“重连接”“重放”之类的以“重”开头的词了。总之，你让我说话变得不再流利。数学课上，我想在同学们面前解释一个数学方程式，但你知道从我嘴里说出来的是什么吗？是一串含糊不清的词语，而我需要用尽吃奶的力气去清楚发音并重复解释。朋友们对我的嘲笑简直让我无法忍受。每次听到他们模仿我不准确的发音，我都觉得特别刺耳。我再也受不了了！

你最好规矩些，不然我可要收拾你了。我不能再容忍这种傲慢无礼的行为了。我洗刷、清理、照顾你，而你就这么来回报我？真不明白，为什么让你做些事情回报我会这么难。如果你继续顽固不化，我就只好用更好的东西来取代你了。

望你有所改变。

哈娜

（译/韦双全）

Growing Up in Five Minutes

I liked to think of myself as a grown man, but consternation[172] was eating away at[173] my bravado[174] like a starved piranha[175] devouring its prey. The storm grew stronger. The lights went off. The clock struck nine. I began to cry.

Then the phone rang. I wiped my tears, swallowed my sobs[176] and answered. It was my mother.

"Hello, Carlo?" She began. "I'm still …"

"Where are you?" I interrupted, fully aware that my agitation[177] was unbecoming for a grown-up.

"I'm here, in Glori's, with your brother."

I knew that the Glori Supermart was only five minutes from our house. I knew because my dad told me, and estimating distances was grown men's stuff.

"What time will you be home?" I asked."

"Unless we get a ride, you shouldn't expect us any time soon."

"Why don't you take a pedicab[178] home?"

"The tricycle drivers won't accept any passengers."

"Walk?"

"Through that flood? I don't think so—that's why I called."

I braced[179] myself.

"Get your raincoat, hail[180] a pedicab and fetch us here," she said.

Stunned[181], I couldn't utter a word. My mother continued.

"Carlo? Is that OK with you?"

Was it OK with me? Was she kidding? It was raining hard, it was dark, and thunder roared every minute—not that I was scared, but I was only ten! Who knew what danger awaited me out there in the dark?

"Sure, no problem," I replied.

"Great! Bring an umbrella. You might get wet."

As we pulled away, I became frantic[182] with worry. What if the driver was a kidnapper? What if he charged me too much? What if he decided to drop me off and I couldn't find my mother or my way back home?

Overwhelmed, I began to pray. It didn't stop me from trembling, but it did ease my fears. The minutes flew by. We reached Glori's.

My mother, who was standing just outside the main entrance, saw me. She took my brother Paolo, who was nine, by her left hand and carried their umbrella with her right. They walked towards me.

"Wow, you're really a big boy now, taking public transportation and all," my mother said with a smile.

I would have preferred "grown man" to "big boy", but still I glowed[183] with pride. We all got in. I took the seat behind the driver, as all grown men do. It's the most dangerous position because the person sitting there could easily fall off, so I held on as tightly as I could. Paolo turned to me. "Ah, you were really brave today," he said.

I smiled nonchalantly[184]." It was nothing. Someday you'll do this too." He looked at me as if I were a god.

As the pedicab roared through the flooded streets of our neighborhood, past the stores, the houses and the people, I felt great. I had faced my fears and delivered. I had a brother who admired me, a mother who trusted me and a memory of a little adventure for keeps. I had everything, and I felt invincible[185]. Everything, plus my mum to tuck me in.

"Were you scared?" she asked me.

"Scared? Me?" I replied indignantly[186]. "It was only a five-minute ride."

I looked at her. She was beaming.

(By Carlo Timbol)

五分钟成长

我那时喜欢把自己看作一个大人，但是惊恐、慌乱就像一条饥肠辘辘的食人鱼吞食猎物一般，渐渐攻破了我的虚张声势。暴风雨变得越来越猛烈。灯都熄灭了。时钟敲了九下。我哭了起来。

这时电话铃响了。我擦去眼泪，强忍着哽咽接起了电话。是妈妈打来的。

“嗨，卡洛吗？”她说道：“我还在……”

“你在哪里啊？”我打断了她的话，完全不管自己当时的焦虑不安有失大人的身份。

“我在格洛里这儿，和你弟弟一起。”

我知道格洛里超市离我们家只有五分钟的路程。我之所以知道是因为我爸爸告诉过我，而且估计路程也是一个大人该会的本事。

“你们什么时候才能到家啊？”我问道。

“除非我们能搭上车，要不然你别期望我们很快就能到家。”

“为什么不坐三轮车回家呢？”

“三轮车司机都不载客。”

“走回来呢？”

“冒这么大的雨走回来呀？我觉得不行——所以我才给你打电话。”

我赶紧让自己撑住。

“穿上雨衣，招呼一辆三轮车过来接我们吧。”她说道。

我目瞪口呆，一句话也说不出来。我妈妈还在继续说着。

“卡洛？你能行吗？”

我能行吗？她在开玩笑吗？雨下得很大，天色漆黑，雷声轰隆隆不断——我倒不是害怕，可我只有十岁啊！外面漆黑一片，谁知道会有什么危险等着我呢？

“可以，没问题。”我回答道。

“棒极了！带上一把雨伞。你会淋湿的。”

三轮车一开动，我便强烈地担心起来。万一司机是个绑匪怎么办呢？如果他收费太多怎么办呢？要是他让我半路下车，我找不到妈妈或者不知道回家的路怎么办呢？

我忧心忡忡，开始祈祷。祈祷并不能使我停止发抖，但却平复了我的恐惧感。几分钟的时间一晃就过去了，我们到了格洛里。

我妈妈正站在大门口外面，她看到了我。她左手牵着我九岁的弟弟保罗，右手拿着雨伞。他们向我走过来。

“哇，你现在真的是个大男孩了，能自己乘坐公共交通工具了，还能来接我们。”妈妈微笑着说道。

虽然我更愿意她用“大人”这个词来形容我而不是“大男孩”，但我还是得意得满脸通红。我们上了车。我坐在司机后面的座位上，就像所有成熟男人那样。那个位置最危险，因为坐在那个位置的人很容易摔下车，所以我紧紧地扶牢了。保罗对我说道：“啊，你今天真的很勇敢啊。”

我若无其事地笑了笑：“没什么。有一天你也能做到的。”他看着我，简直将我奉若神明。

三轮车在我们街区附近雨水泛滥的街道上轰然行进，经过了众多商店、房屋和路人，我感觉太棒了。我已经克服恐惧，完成使命。我的弟弟崇拜我，妈妈信任我，我还永远拥有了一段有点儿像冒险的记忆。我拥有了一切，我感觉自己已经战无不胜了。所有的一切，不过这时妈妈把我拽到了她身边。

“你刚才害怕吗？”她问我。

“害怕？我？”我愤怒地回答道：“那只不过是五分钟的车程。”

我看着她。她笑了。

（译/雷起凤）