Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul on Tough Stuff Read Free Page B

thought, but this is the real world.
    â€œI’m keeping you in, but if you can’t work through this I’ll pull you.”
    I nodded.
    I walked past the boys to take my place in the game.
    With each step I took, they stomped their feet to shake the floor. I got the point. Very funny.
    I also had to walk past my teammates, and in spite of my weak showing, they were still rooting for me. “You can do it.” “You’re the best.”
    Something in me gave way. The quote on a magnet on my grandma’s refrigerator popped into my thoughts: “God don’t make no junk.”
    I knew what I knew, and I knew myself—I wasn’t junk. I felt my value to the very depths of my soul. Who was I anyway? What did some immature boys know about me? There were so many people who loved and supported me, and it was time to do my best for them and for myself.
    And just like that, I was free of them. Oh, they continued to stomp their feet with each of my steps. I didn’t like it, but it didn’t matter. They were powerless over my life.
    The game was close, and we played hard. The winning serve fell to me. It was my moment, and I took it. The ball went up, my fist came forward and hit it right on. It was a perfect power serve unreturnable by the other team. The crowd went wild. The pep band started beating out our school song. The team huddled around me.
    Shouts of “Loni! Loni!” vibrated the arena. The funny thing is, the cheers didn’t feed me like they used to. They were great, but the joy I felt, the freedom I felt, the sense of myself I had filled me more than any cheers.
    There was more than one victory that day, and the game was not the most important one.
    Loni Taylor
As told to Cynthia Hamond

Again
    If when you wake up in the morning,
And the hurting is so great,
You don’t want to get out of bed
And face a world of hate.
    If everything in life goes wrong
And nothing you do seems right,
You just try a little harder
And soon you’ll see the light.
    For every person who has put you down
And filled your life with pain,
You must strive to achieve greatness
And show them you can win.
    For every disappointment,
For the times you are let down,
There will be a better moment
And your life will turn around.
    Because everyone feels heartache
And everyone feels pain,
But only those who have true courage
Can get up and try again.
    Teal Henderson

Why I Have to Take U.S. History Again
    I think of myself as an intelligent, sensitive human being with the soul of a clown, which always forces me to blow it at the most important moments.
    Jim Morrison
    What was I thinking? Why couldn’t I have left well enough alone? Stupid, stupid Valentine’s Day. I had to write that dumb poem, and I had to go and put it in Lisa’s locker. Why do they have those vents on lockers anyway? What needs to breathe in your locker? I don’t keep puppies in my locker, and I don’t know anyone who does. And my textbooks are just as stale as ever, with or without air. But they have to put those vents on, just big enough to stick a stupid valentine with a stupid poem inside.
    It all started at the beginning of last year in U.S. History class. I was walking into class with my friend Dave, minding my own business, talking about some play in some game that we both watched the night before, when I saw something bright out of the corner of my eye. I looked over. Actually, it wasn’t a bright spot at all, but a head of brilliant blonde hair. Beneath that hair were two amazing, beautiful blue eyes. I didn’t know it then, but that moment was the beginning of the end for my chance of a good grade in U.S. History.
    I spent the next twelve weeks staring at that beautiful head (or at least the back of it). Seating was alphabetical, but I was fortunate enough to be three rows back and four seats over from Lisa so that if I stretched my neck in just the right way, I could see that head. When the bell