I was in 6th grade, and I had a good friend named Stacey. We were not only in the same class but also shared a common love for learning and exploring. What’s more, Stacey and I even carried our own backpacks of the same style to spend our leisure time together, reading in the school library, singing under the tree and enjoying the beautiful sunshine in autumn.

One day, Stacey came to school with a new backpack, and I noticed three letters embroidered (刺绣) on it: SEK. I asked her what they meant.

“They are, of course, the first letters of my first name, my middle name, and my last name,” she explained proudly, “when I grow up, I might use my middle name instead of ‘Stacey’ and become ‘Elizabeth,’ or ‘Liz,’ or ‘Betsy’. The possibilities (可能性) made me very excited and each name seemed like a gateway to a different world.” I was a little jealous to hear that. Why didn’t I have a middle name.

For the first time, I thought about my own name: Claudine Gay. I thought about it for the rest of the day， and my confusion and resentment (怨恨) grew as I thought of the space between Claudine and Gay-the space where my parents had failed to give me a middle name. And I imagined all of the futures that were now out of reach as a consequence. I couldn’t see any possibility of myself.

Although I was just 11 years old at that time, I suddenly felt very painful that I was insufficient (缺失的). I felt as if everyone around me knew exactly what was going on.

I was not happy with my parents. When I faced them directly that evening, demanding to know why I did not have a middle name, they explained that each of them had given me half of my name. My mother, Claudette, gave me Claudine. My father, Sony, gave me Gay. They said calmly, “you are Claudine Gay. Your name is enough!”

Hearing what they said, I still thought it unacceptable.

“Claudine, why are there only two letters CG?” asked Stacey, pointing at the embroidery on my backpack the next day.

Ever since Arick Baker was a kid, his father had warned him: “If you go down in the corn, you don’t come out.”

The tall grain bins store enough dried corn to swallow up a body completely, squeezing the breath and life from a person in seconds. Accidents happen, and they’re often deadly. 26 have been killed in the accidents ever since, and the firefighters responsible for it never had luck rescuing anyone.

However, the 23-year-old Baker wasn’t thinking about the risks. With his dad, Rick, getting older, Baker was increasingly responsible for the farm’s most unpleasant tasks of cleaning inside the tall grain bins, which usually took two days to finish due to its height and size.

That morning, Baker stood right in the grain bin, trying to clean up the bottom, while his father was out helping to transfer truckloads of corn from inside. It was a sweating day, and it was 58℃ inside the bin. Baker was wearing a mask to keep away from all the dust kicked up while working.

Around 10:30 that morning, Baker’s dad left his spot on the roof, where he had kept an eye on his son, and then he drove away the last pile of corn. But just seconds later, Baker felt a roaring storm of corn coming from above. It was another driver unloading corn into the grain bin, and he was quickly stuck firm in the corn before he could even react. “Help!” Baker yelled once, but darkness and silence set in, and he was down in the corn.

Awful to feel himself squeezed, Baker tried to move his leg a few centimeters, but the corn would rush back in to fill the blank, packing him even tighter. Every breath was exhausting, and after about two hours of helplessness, he was wondering how long he could still last.

The truth was, just moments after he drove away, Baker’s father had left his son a phone message: “Hey, Arick. Like a fool, I forgot to wait to make sure you got out OK. Give me a call when you got this.”

But two hours later, when he still didn’t get a reply, Baker’s dad became worried.

Knowing Baker was still alive from his voice below encouraged firefighters to dig further.

Hettie’s eyes fell on a magazine she hadn’t noticed before in her bag. She took it out and read the Post-it note her mom had stuck to the cover.

Page 8! So Cool!

Love, Mom

Hettie smiled. Mom always slipped a little surprise into her bag. Hettie jumped onto her bed and wrapped herself in the blanket, opening the magazine to page eight straight. There was a huge ad: “DO YOU WANNA BE CALIFORNIA LEE’S BEST FRIEND FOREVER? Make a video telling us how much you love her and you could win a day with Pop Teen’s rising star CALIFORNIA LEE!”

Hettie tried to see the Cally she had known through the makeup and the fancy clothes. Her eyes sparkled (闪烁) the same emerald green as they had in Hettie’s backyard when Cally told her the big news. “I got the part!” She sang out as she bounced up and down on the swing. Hettie had been excited, too. Cally had really wanted this part. It was in Rock Club, a TV musical on Pop Teen. It was, she said, how all of Pop Teen Channel’s stars started out.

Then the musical came out and Cally, now California Lee, was busy all the time. The last time the two girls had seen each other was at Cally’s birthday party. Even in her best dress and new shoes, Hettie felt out of place. Most of the kids at the party were actors. Big boxes with massive bows covered the birthday present table. Overwhelmed and feeling shy, Hettie took her gift—a flashlight, and sat in a corner. No one came to look for her until her mom arrived to pick her up. Soon after, Cally moved to Los Angeles with her family.

The next day, Hettie arrived at school earlier than usual, with the magazine under her arm, her book bag over her shoulder. After making sure that no one in the schoolyard was watching, Hettie dropped her bag on the ground and pulled out her phone.

She held the phone as far as she could from her face and pressed record.

Hettie’s heart sank as she realized that she wasn’t the winner.