“OK, girls,” Mom said. “I’ll be shopping around.” “Good-bye, Mother,” I said impatiently, a little too eager to go browsing with Lauren. I had just turned twelve three days ago, and Mom said I’d be allowed to shop without adult supervision with her in the mall, just at a different store—as long as I was shopping with a friend. When Mom turned away to leave, I grinned at Lauren, who smiled back. “Where should we go first?” I asked. Lauren shrugged. “You decide.” “You’re the guest.” Somehow we chose a boutique, and Lauren picked out one of those cheap fuzzy things that you wrap around your neck called boas. “What do you think my mom will say?” “I think she’ll say . . . ahhh!” I joked, and Lauren laughed. We trudged into another store. I went over to look at the hairsprays while Lauren sampled everything. I noticed she was looking intently at some lipstick. Carefully she picked it up and winked at me, then dropped it into her purse. I sucked in my breath. “Dare me?” Lauren asked, a mischievous look on her face. “No,” I said firmly. “Let’s go, Lauren.” Just then, a saleswoman came up from behind us. “Can I help you girls?” she asked, sounding suspicious as her tiny gray eyes darted from me to Lauren. “Can I help you girls?” she asked, sounding suspicious Lauren put on her sweetest smile that fools teachers for about three weeks. “No, thank you. Do you have any purple nail polish?” The saleswoman blinked. “No, we just ran out. But can I recommend the mauve? It’s a bit like the purple.” “I’ll take it!” Lauren declared, picking up a shiny glass of the stuff. “Are you going to get anything, Amy?” I bit my lip. “No.” The saleswoman glared at me. “Can I get you anything else?” she inquired politely, addressing Lauren, who was counting her change. Lauren looked up. “No thanks.” Then, as we walked out, I saw her drop the lipstick back into the correct place when the saleswoman’s back was turned. When we got out, I stared fiercely at Lauren. “People like that get in trouble! You shouldn’t do stuff like that.” Lauren gave me a dirty look. “I didn’t get caught, did I? And I didn’t even steal anything. I was just joking. You’re like your mother. ‘No shopping by yourself at the mall unsupervised until you’re older, honey,'” she mimicked, laughing. I curled my hands into fists, but Lauren just grinned. “Oh, gosh, Amy, lighten up. You’re such a sissy sometimes! Come on, let’s go find your mom.” I didn’t mention the incident to Mom, and luckily she was busy fussing over my younger sister Rachel, who was throwing a tantrum over the dress Mom bought her. I was afraid that if I told Mom about Lauren, she’d never let me go places with her again, and Lauren was my best friend. When Rachel finally agreed to stop bawling over the dress if Mom would get her new shoes, Mom came into my room, and I buried my nose in a book so she wouldn’t see my worried look. “Is something wrong, honey?” Mom asked. “No. How’d you know—I mean, no, nothing’s wrong. I’m perfectly fine.” I gazed up at my mother and smiled shakily. “Well, for one thing, you’re reading a book,” Mom said, “which doesn’t happen very often on a Saturday night.” I shrugged. “I decided to change my lifestyle,” I said, which made Mom laugh. “That’s a good one,” Mom told me, smiling. “I have such a witty family!” Then she strode off, ready to scold my sister for kicking the wall, which Rachel was doing right then. I sighed, trying to figure out what to do about Lauren. I knew Lauren would get in trouble if I told someone, especially her mom, but if I didn’t, what if she really did steal something, not just fake it? * * * At school, that Monday, I saw Lauren but didn’t go over to her like usual. I didn’t want her to mention Saturday, and I was still confused. Instead of suffering through an uncomfortable five minutes before the bell with Lauren, I tried desperately to follow the conversation going on with the Mitchell twins. Fawn and Andrea always hang out together because they don’t have any friends, but they’re always nice to everyone. They’re a little strange, but I like to think of them as unique, and they really listen when you talk so you don’t feel like you’re talking to air. In line, though, Lauren teased me, “So you’re taking the Mitchell twins over me, huh, Amy?” With a sigh, I turned around from the sneers and Lauren, wishing I were anywhere but there. “Sorry, Amy,” Lauren said quickly when she saw my offended look. “I was just joking.” Ha, ha, I thought. Joke? I wanted to remind her that I had other friends besides her, but she’d already turned away. I didn’t have to hang out with her every second. I tried to avoid Lauren during recess by playing games she didn’t like, such as kickball. But Lauren played anyway, so I quit and headed for the girls’ room. Lauren followed. “Are you mad at me?” she asked. I didn’t answer. “Look, I didn’t mean to make you mad, if you are mad at me,” Lauren added. I smiled. This was the Lauren I knew. This was the Lauren I was best friends with. “It’s OK,” I said. “I guess I have been kind of a baby.” Lauren nodded her agreement, and before I could say anything, she grabbed my arm. “C’mon,” she said, “let’s go finish that kickball game!” * * * Mom took Rachel and me to the mall again next Sunday to return Rachel’s dress and get me some slacks and a wool sweater for winter. “Can I walk around again?” I asked. Mom hesitated. “Without Lauren?” “I’ll go with her!” Rachel piped up.
Morality
Teddy’s Eyes
Holly Gapen sighed and switched the elbow she was leaning on. She was stuck in deep thought. Algebra was so discouraging! “Holly?” Holly’s ever-loving mother called. “Holly, it’s dinner time. Lasagna, your favorite.” Holly shuffled her papers, finally done, into her overstuffed binder and groggily stretched her lanky legs that brought her so much trouble. Kids teased Holly because of the fact that she was six-foot-one, really tall for a fifteen-year-old. “Holly, this is my last call.” “Coming, Mom. You sound like a train conductor.” “Toot, toot. Very funny.” Holly’s mother had come into the living room and was flapping a towel toward her daughter, playfully. “Come on, Mom,” Holly complained. She stood up and went toward the dining room. * * * The next morning, Holly awoke abruptly from a terrifying nightmare. She clung onto her teddy bear, Teddy, the only real friend she had. She was sweating and her hands were clenched into hot balls. “Holly, honey,” Mrs. Gapen reassured, “you’re all right. Everything’s OK.” Holly blinked her eyes and woke up. Her dream had been about the state achievement test. * * * Four . . . three . . . one . . . seven . . . open! Holly opened her locker and limply flung her backpack in. She looked toward her classroom and saw Linda Harvey, someone she naturally avoided, strolling toward her. She had a spiral book in her hands. Holly waved shakily and greeted, “W- what’s up?” “Hi, personne grande,” Linda sneered. “What?” Holly scrunched up her face. “You’ll find out in French class, today,” Linda snickered as she pushed her shoulder-length frizzy red hair out of the way of her exotic green eyes. “Well, I guess I’ll see ya around, Linda. I’ve got to get to class now.” Holly backed away from Linda, watching the spiral book get smaller and smaller before it took a turn down the hall. “Bonjour, mes amis,” Miss DuJour greeted her class. “Bonjour, Madame Dujour,” many children chorused. “Today, we’ll talk about features. To be tall is to be grande as to be small is to be petite . . .” Miss DuJour’s voice faded away and Holly was insulted. Kids had turned around and were chanting, “grande, grande . . .” Holly turned away to muffle the chants of her classmates. She was overcome with guilt that she was so tall, so she hid her eyes in her stringy, bleached hair. She was comforted when French was over and retired to the hall. Linda was already waiting for her there. Her normally free hair was pushed back by a plastic headband with teeth that looked threatening. She was holding the same spiral book as before. “Hey, Holly. Whatcha doin’?” Linda leaned against a locker, getting ready to stay there a long time. Holly searched for an excuse in her mind to leave Linda, and thought of after-school activities. “I-I’ve got to get to tennis,” she stammered. This was true. Tennis was Tuesday night. “Yeah, tennis,” she announced more confidently. “OK, yeah, tennis.” Linda was not impressed. “But, you know, could I talk to you for a sec? I’ve got something you might like.” “Well, only for a second,” Holly agreed a little reluctantly. “You know how Coach is if you’re a little late.” Linda had a sparkle in her eyes. She smiled at Holly and beamed with pleasure at someone wanting to talk to her. “Well, it’s about the test.” Linda glanced down at her spiral book and continued. “You know how some of the questions are really hard?” “Yeah.” Holly remembered some of last year’s algebra. “Well, look at this.” Linda opened the book she had been carrying around tenderly and showed Holly the first page. In bold, capital letters, a message was printed. It read: 1999 STUDENT ACHIEVEMENT TEST ANSWER BOOK HIGH SCHOOL She saw Linda Harvey, someone she naturally avoided, strolling toward her “Oh, my. Where’d you find this?” “Doesn’t matter. Do you want to?” “What?” Holly was mortified and asked the question even though she knew the answer. “You know. Come on. It’ll be fun. Imagine—the perfect scores.” Imagine—getting expelled, was what Holly was thinking. But still, so she wouldn’t upset the volcano, she whispered, “I’ll think about it.” Linda seemed pleased with that remark, and let Holly go in peace to tennis. * * * Tennis class was different. Holly was usually a natural leader and played really well. That Tuesday was different. Holly missed every ball that came to her and just wasn’t running fast enough. When practice match time came, Holly was paired up with Ronny Simmons, who was one of the easiest kids on the team to beat. She was occupied thinking about the answer booklet, though, and Ronny beat her easily. Holly sat down after the match next to Coach. He seemed understanding. “Got something on your mind, eh?” “Yeah.” “It’s hard.” He smiled and patted Holly’s back. “Sooner or later, you’ll get to your goal. You’ll make it.” Holly remembered his words as she untied her shoes. You’ll make it. She wondered if she would make it to eleventh grade, and then her mind wandered back to the booklet and all thoughts of Coach vanished. * * * “Honey, how was school?” Holly looked up from her book to stare at her mother. “Fine, I guess.” Holly lied through gritted teeth. If she told her mom, all she would get would be a lecture. They usually lasted at least an hour long. They weren’t what you would call “fun.” “All done with your homework?” “Yeah.” “Get to bed early. Then at least you won’t be so grouchy for the big test day after tomorrow.” “That early?” Holly dropped her book on the floor, then recovered it. “Uh-huh. Be prepared!” Mrs. Gapen cackled like a witch. “Very funny, Mom.” Holly gave her mother her most bored look and resumed her reading. “Well, you better get enough sleep for tomorrow.” Holly’s mother left the room and
Little Pal
I saw it in an old country store. All around it were dull tools of an earlier generation. What caught my attention at first was the flash that I saw when I opened the door. I walked over eagerly. In my pocket was a five-dollar bill that I had gotten for my birthday. My dad had taken me to the only store in town and told me to get anything with my money. Surely the flashing thing was under five dollars. It was a golden model dog with a silver tail. I gasped. I had never seen the color gold in our little town. I lifted it gently and looked on the bottom, then I rolled it around. Still, I couldn’t find a price tag. Holding it gently I went up to the counter. The only thing distinguishing the counter from the shelves piled with broken stuff was an old lady standing behind it. “Could you tell me the price of this model, ma’am?” I asked as politely as I could. “You can’t buy that dog, young lady,” she replied, “it’s thirty-five dollars.” “You’ve got to be kidding,” I laughed. “There isn’t any model dog worth thirty-five dollars.” “Then you can kid yourself out of here. That model is worth more than thirty-five dollars.” She stomped out of the shop and into her house across the muddy yard. The dog was glittering in my hand. It flashed temptingly. I wanted something gold and silver. Something that would look like what the rich people have in their fancy houses. I looked around and saw that my dad was bending over the old pickup trying to get a squirmy puppy out of the back. I started trying to shove the model in my pocket when the lady came back. He licked my fingers and I felt that the model dog didn’t matter to me anymore “What are you doing with that dog, young lady?” she demanded. “Oh,” I said, while my brain started racing frantically. “Is that your father out there?” she asked, going to the door. “Uh, yeah,” I mumbled, and tried to sneak the dog back onto the shelf. “I see what you’re doing, young lady,” she snapped. “You can leave it in your pocket while I get your dad.” There wasn’t any way out. The bell jingled as they came in. “I’m sorry, ma’am, for the trouble my daughter has caused,” my dad said. “I assure you that you won’t have her coming into your shop in the future. Come along, Sara.” He jerked his head to the door and we marched out. I was feeling terrible, but not because I had been caught stealing. No, I was just mad about not getting that model. On the ride home my dad was silent and so was I. The only sound was a lonely yip now and then from the pup in the back. My dad was going to sell it to the lady in the shop because we didn’t have any need for another puppy. He couldn’t sell it after what I had done. I wasn’t sorry. All I wanted was to get that model, and I would sneak out tonight and go to the village and get it. I stayed awake long into the night while I waited to make sure everyone was asleep. When it had been at least an hour after the last light had gone out, I breathed a sigh of relief. It was really uncomfortable to lie in bed in overalls. As I crept to the front door I felt something grab my pant leg. I whirled around and saw the pup digging his claws into the floor with his teeth through my cuff. I was furious! I grabbed him and set him on the floor none too gently. He whimpered and I turned away. He was back, trying to rip my sock off. Over and over I’d try to get away and he’d stop me. I finally stuck him in the broom closet and ran outside into a pounding rain. I started running toward town with my bare feet slapping on the mud of the road. It was crisscrossed by torrents of water cutting little canyons into the dirt. There was water everywhere. The trees were dripping with it and the stream was flooding out of its banks. Little pinpoints of light beside the road told me that the raccoons were watching me. It gives you an eerie feeling seeing unblinking eyes watching you from the forest. I felt something hit my back and I froze. A wet tongue licked my face and I knew the puppy had gotten out of the closet. How, I didn’t know, but I was sure that it had damaged the woodwork a little. It whimpered and tugged at my pant leg. Then I realized what he was doing. He was trying to keep me from going to the store and stealing the model! I reached down and patted his head. He licked my fingers and I felt that the model dog didn’t matter to me anymore. The little dog leapt into my arms and I started running home. “You know,” I said into his fur, “I’ve got the perfect name for you. You’re my Little Pal.” Little Pal, as he was now called, fell asleep on my bed right after we got home. After I told my dad I was sorry, I used my five dollars to buy myself the best birthday present ever, Little Pal. My very own genuine dog. He was adorable, the most perfect puppy ever, in my opinion. Nikki Morse, 12Boulder, Colorado Garrett Landon, 11Santa Cruz, California
