Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul II, Page 3

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  the painful process of learning about and dealing with a friend being diagnosed with cancer.

  You wrote about performing acts of kindness and how wonderful you felt afterwards and about how others' acts of kindness toward you touched you deeply. And, of course, you wrote about growing upyou are growing and learning so fast that it takes writing it down, or reading someone else's account of it, to see who you are and where you are going.

  These are the stories you will find in this book. They are your storiesyour triumphs and your tragedies, your heartaches and your breakthroughs, your insights and your discoveries, and your awareness that being a teenager is a journey. It is a journey of becoming your best self.

  It is our hope that you will love this book as much, if not more, than the first. It is your book, there for you to read when you need some cheering up or when you simply need to be reminded that you are by no means alone on the journey.

  How to Read This Book

  Read this book however you want to, from beginning to end or jump around. If there is a particular chapter that speaks to your concerns or that you have a special interest insuch as On Relationships or On Familyfeel free to go there first.

  We encourage you to return to this book again and again, much like the way you would call on a friend. We received the following e-mail from [email protected] after he had finished Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul.

  I just wanted to tell you how grateful I am for this great book. I read it all the time and it really has become my best friend.

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  While we hope the book as a whole will touch you deeply, you may find that one story in particular will change your life. Kim Price wrote to us about a story that touched her that way.

  The story, "I Love You Dad," deeply touched my soul. Never had anything made me think how important my dad is to me.

  Kim wrote him a letter after reading the story and he wrote back a beautiful reply that she says,

  . . . boosted my confidence in myself and my love toward my family. . . . I haven't been afraid to tell people how much I care about them. I hope your stories have touched other people's lives in the way they have touched mine.

  Let These Stories Help You Grow

  Many of the letters we received told us how you changed something about yourself after reading a story. Diana Yarmovich wrote to us about an incident she was involved in at her school. She told us how she and some of her friends were teasing a fellow classmate and calling her gay. They were given the "punishment" of going around to different classrooms and talking about words ending in -ism, (i.e., racism, ageism and sexism). She went on to say,

  The story "Betty Ann" helped me realize how the other girl felt. I now realize how wrong I was.

  In another letter, Melissa Moy writes,

  Every day the world looks different to me. In the morning I wake up feeling sure of myself, something that I have never experienced before. Remarkably, this book has also expanded my compassion for others.

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  Share These Stories

  This is a great book to read with others. We've heard stories about classrooms reading it together, youth groups using it to begin their meetings, and teens passing the book around and reading to each other at parties or sleepovers. Lauren Antonelli wrote to us about a slumber party she went to. All the girls had fallen asleep except Lauren and her friend, Mary Beth. They had been reading the book together and sharing which ones were their favorites. She writes,

  After we put the book away, we talked. We didn't gossip though, we had a very serious heart-to-heart. . . . We talked about life, love and stuff like that. We grew closer that Saturday night and I'm not sure what happened or how it happened. But one thing is for sure, we will never look at life the same way and that is all because of a book called Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul.

  This Is Your Book

  Once again, this is your book. We are thrilled that this book contains more stories actually written by teenagers than the first one. We were so impressed with the stories and poems that were sent to us. They contained such honesty and wisdom. What touched us the most, however, was the desire by every person who submitted something to help others. We heard over and over, "I hope that my story can help someone else the way these stories have helped me." Even if your story isn't in here, it still has helped others, because each and every letter, story and poem we received helped make this book what it is.

  We were 100 percent committed to having teenagers decide what went into this book. We learned early on that to ensure a great book, we needed to include

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  teenagers in all the decision making. There were countless teenagers who read our final two hundred stories and some who read the final copy. We had high school students, middle school students and a youth group help us select the stories, poems and cartoons that appear in this book. They did a great job!

  So here it is, another book, from our hearts to yours, just for you.

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  SHARE WITH US

  We would love to hear what you think. Please let us know how these stories affected you and which ones were your favorites.

  Also, please send us any stories you would like to submit to our upcoming books: Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul III, Chicken Soup for the College Soul and Chicken Soup for the Parent's Soul. Please send us stories, poems or cartoons that you have written or ones that you have read somewhere else. Send these stories to:

  Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul

  Kimberly Kirberger

  P.O. Box 936

  Pacific Palisades, CA 90272

  fax: 310-573-3657

  e-mail for stories: [email protected]

  e-mail for letters: [email protected]

  Web site: www.teenagechickensoup.com

  We hope you enjoy reading this book as much as we enjoyed compiling, editing and writing it. It has truly been a labor of love.

  With love to each and every one of you,

  JACK CANFIELD, MARK VICTOR HANSEN

  AND KIMBERLY KIRBERGER

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  1

  ON RELATIONSHIPS

  Love is a fruit in season at all times, and within reach of every hand.

  Mother Teresa

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  Starlight, Star Bright

  When I was five years old, I took an extreme liking to my sister's toys. It made little difference that I had a trunk overflowing with dolls and toys of my own. Her ''big girl" treasures were much easier to break, and much more appealing. Likewise, when I was ten and she was twelve, the earrings and make-up that she was slowly being permitted to experiment with held my attention, while my former obsession with catching bugs seemed to be a distant and fading memory.

  It was a trend that continued year by year and, except for a few bruises and threats of terrifying "haircuts" while I was sleeping, one that my sister handled with tolerance. My mother continually reminded her, as I entered junior high wearing her new hair clips, that it was actually a compliment to her sense of style. She told her, as I started my first day of high school wearing her clothes, that one day she would laugh and remind me of how she was always the cooler of the two of us.

  I had always thought that my sister had good taste, but never more than when she started bringing home guys. I had a constant parade of sixteen-year-old boys going

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  through my house, stuffing themselves with food in the kitchen, or playing basketball on the driveway.

  I had recently become very aware that boys, in fact, weren't as "icky" as I had previously thought, and that maybe their cooties weren't such a terrible thing to catch after all. But the freshman guys who were my age, whom I had spent months giggling over at football games with my friends, suddenly seemed so young. They couldn't drive and they didn't wear varsity jackets. My sister's friends were tall, they were funny, and even though my sister was persistent in getting rid of me quick
ly, they were always nice to me as she pushed me out the door.

  Every once in a while I would luck out, and they would stop by when she wasn't home. One in particular would have long conversations with me before leaving to do whatever sixteen-year-old boys did (it was still a mystery to me). He talked to me as he talked to everyone else, not like a kid, not like his friend's little sister . . . and he always hugged me good-bye before he left.

  It wasn't surprising that before long I was positively giddy about him. My friends told me I had no chance with a junior. My sister looked concerned for my potentially broken heart. But you can't help who it is that you fall in love with, whether they are older or younger, taller or shorter, completely opposite or just like you. Emotion ran me over like a Mack truck when I was with him, and I knew that it was too late to try to be sensibleI was in love.

  It did not mean I didn't realize the possibility of being rejected. I knew that I was taking a big chance with my feelings and pride. If I didn't give him my heart there was no possibility that he would break it . . . but there was also no chance that he might not.

  One night before he left, we sat on my front porch talking and looking for stars as they became visible. He looked at me quite seriously and asked me if I believed in

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  wishing on stars. Surprised, but just as serious, I told him I had never tried.

  "Well, then it's time you start," he said, and pointed to the sky. "Pick one out and wish for whatever you want the most." I looked and picked out the brightest star I could find. I squeezed my eyes shut and with what felt like an entire colony of butterflies in my stomach, I wished for courage. I opened my eyes and saw him smiling as he watched my tremendous wishing effort. He asked what I had wished for, and when I replied, he looked puzzled. "Courage? For what?" he questioned.

  I took one last deep breath and replied, "To do this." And I kissed himall driver's-license-holding, varsity-jacket-wearing, sixteen years of him. It was bravery I didn't know I had, strength I owed completely to my heart, which gave up on my mind and took over.

  When I pulled back, I saw the astonished look in his face, a look that turned into a smile and then laughter. After searching for something to say for what seemed to me like hours, he took my hand and said, "Well, I guess we're lucky tonight. Both our wishes came true."

  Kelly Garnett

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  Seven Minutes in Heaven

  People say you change many times in the course of your teenage years, and that your time in school will teach you lessons you will never forget. I think they were referring to classrooms and football fields, but one of my greatest learning experiences began in a parking lot. It was as I was waiting to be picked up one day that I met my first girlfriend.

  Her name was Brittany. She was pretty, outgoing and two years older than I wasit seemed too good to be true that she was interested in mebut not long after we met, we became an official couple. At our age, "going out" meant that we talked on the phone every night, and saw each other at school in between classes. We never really had a lot of opportunity to see each other or get to know one another very well. But, never having been in a relationship before, I thought that this was what they were like. It didn't seem like a big deal that we weren't that close, that I didn't get butterflies in my stomach when I saw her.

  Not long after we got together, she called me and told me that she was going to a party with some friends, and that she wanted me to go with her. I said I would, and

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  waited somewhat nervously that night for her to pick me up. When the small car packed with teenagers arrived, I squeezed in and wondered what I was getting myself into.

  An hour into the party, I was feeling less self-conscious and a lot more comfortable. Though the people at the party were all older than me, they were people I knew, or had seen around school. It all seemed innocent enoughwe just sat around eating popcorn, watching a movie and having a good timeuntil the movie ended.

  Someone suggested a game of "Spin the Bottle," and my heart began to beat a little faster. It can't be that bad, I thought to myself. It's just kissing even if it is in front of a bunch of other people. But after a while, some people wanted to take the game a little further. I heard somebody say "Seven Minutes in Heaven," and everyone answered "Yes!" with knowing smiles. I had no idea what it was, and looked at Brittany for help, but she just smiled and agreed that it was a good idea.

  After the first few couples spent their seven minutes in heaven, I figured out what the object of the game wasgoing into a closet and kissing. My stomach flip-flopped and I felt dizzy as I waited for the inevitable, when it would be my turn with Brittany. I was scared. I had no experience with this kind of thing, and I was about to jump into it head first with a girl two years older than I was. I didn't know what she expected, or what she would tell the other older kids when we got out. I could see a sad reputation of being a lame boyfriend looming in the near future.

  I really didn't have a lot of time to think about it, because our turn came, and Brittany pulled me after her into the closet. As it turned out, she was an experienced kisserI didn't have time to think, or react, she just kind of took over. I was relieved and glad when it was over. When she took me home later, neither one of us said

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  much. I don't know what she was thinking about, but I was still trying to let everything sink in. It wasn't as much fun as I had thought it would bethere was no romance or feeling in it.

  It was never talked about, but in the weeks that followed the party, my relationship with Brittany slowly ended, and I returned to doing normal things with kids my own age. I thought it was strange that I didn't feel sad about it. It was almost a relief to not have to worry about another party or situation where I would feel out of my league.

  I was at the beach with friends several months later when I started talking to a girl. As we talked, I realized I was strangely happy just listening to her and watching her smile while she told me about her life. There was something about her that made me enjoy just being with her. With no thoughts of what it meant, I knew I wanted to see her again so we planned to meet the following week, same time, same place.

  I was completely comfortable as we sat on a blanket that night filling each other in on the events of the long week that preceded our reunion. We sat next to the bonfire and laughed, and suddenly, I wanted to kiss her . . . and I did. A pure, sweet, innocent kiss, one that made me feel warm and happy. And though it was nowhere near seven minutes, it was definitely a piece of heaven.

  Andrew Keegan

  As told to Kimberly Kirberger

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  Practical Application

  He's teaching her arithmetic,

  He said it was his mission,

  He kissed her once, he kissed her twice and said,

  "Now that's addition."

  And as he added smack by smack

  In silent satisfaction,

  She sweetly gave the kisses back and said,

  "Now that's subtraction."

  Then he kissed her, she kissed him,

  Without an explanation,

  And both together smiled and said,

  "That's multiplication."

  Then Dad appeared upon the scene and

  Made a quick decision.

  He kicked that kid three blocks away

  And said, "That's long division!"

  Dan Clark

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  A Geek, a Nerd, a Bookworm

  Love is not what we become, but what we already are.

  Stephen Levine

  Stand straight, shoulders back, chin up, eyes forward, smile, I mumbled to myself. No, it was an impossible task. I put my glasses back on and slouched into my usual character. I immediately regretted this decision as I slid discreetly into my desk. His eyes did not even flicker at my entrance. Clearing my throat in an effort to be acknowledged seemed hopeless.