I was sure everyone in my junior-high drama class saw the paper in my hands shaking when I stood up to audition for a lead role in the annual Christmas play. I was there, not by choice, but because teacher Alice wanted each of us to try out for a part.

As a “good” student, I did what I was asked, even if it was scary. I was small for my age, wore secondhand clothes and cried easily. At school, I was often the object of jokes and laughter and had few friends. I wanted desperately to shrink back into my seat and be invisible. But there I was, on stage. Reading was, at least, something I loved. So, I read.

I finished reading and rushed back to my seat. The spell was broken. I wanted to curl up and disappear. When the teacher read the cast list and called my name, I wasn’t paying attention. No one ever chose me for anything.

“Patty,” she repeated, “you are Star. Come and get your script.”

This is impossible! How can it be? With a pounding heart and cold, sweaty hands, I felt nearly dizzy, but incredibly happy. I walked up unsteadily to get the papers. On returning to my desk, I felt regretful. I should have refused. I felt as if everyone else were looking at and laughing at me. I buried my head in my arms. Gently patting my shoulder, teacher Alice said, “Be confident, Patty. You can do this. I know you can. I’ll help you.” With tears in my eyes, I raised my head and nodded firmly.

So, I practiced every day — while walking to school, at lunchtime, before bedtime, even on weekends. At first, I was worried about forgetting parts of a long monologue that took place in one scene, but I managed to memorize it. I felt more confident after that. At last, it was the day for the show.

Everything went smoothly until it was my turn to give the long monologue.

Fighting back tears, I continued my performance.

It is exciting and enjoyable for one to experience both being fired for being honest and being rewarded. It was a pleasant Tuesday morning. Sunray Mart, a high-end (高端的) supermarket opened its doors to its customers. 60-year-old Billy had just started his first day on the job as the store’s sales associate (业员), and he couldn’t have been happier. Getting a job at 70 was quite challenging, and Billy could not thank his fate enough for somehow bringing him this work.

Wearing a warm smile, he began his work. After a while, he noticed one customer, a man in a clean black suit, approaching the store manager at the checkout....

“Excuse me, young man,” the customer greeted the manager at the billing desk. “Could you please tell me how much this toy costs? I left my glasses in my office, so I can’t see the price clearly. Would you please help me out?” “It’s $ 800, sir!” the manager took a look and said.

Billy was quite surprised and raised a brow (额头). He had just arranged the toys from the collection the man had wanted, all of which cost at most $ 200. So Billy lifted the exact toy from the lower shelf to double check its price and learned that it was actually $ 200, not $800 like the manager had claimed. Without further hesitation, Billy decided to correct the manager and approached the two men at the checkout, “Excuse me, sir, I think there’s been a mistake... That toy costs $ 200, not $ 800,” Billy said, pointing to the toy box his manager held.

Billy’s manager frowned (皱眉) and was clearly frustrated as he stared angrily at him, “apologize on behalf of my new sales associate,” the manager rolled his eyes and turned to the customer. “He’s new here, sir... and is probably a bit confused about the items listed for sale, The toy is $ 800.” Billy realized that his manager was trying to cheat the customer.

But Bill could not openly oppose (反对) him.

All of a sudden, the man Billy “helped” appeared from nowhere.

It was a bright spring afternoon along the Maryland coast, and Jonathan Bauer, 51, a technology executive at a hospital, and his 13-year-old daughter, Ava, were taking full advantage of it. They were driving with the windows down as they headed home on the 1.4-mile, two-lane Route 90 bridge, which spans the shallow waters of Assawoman Bay. Suddenly, the calm was disturbed by the scream of tires.

Not far ahead of them, a black truck was sliding from one lane to the other. To the Bauers’ horror, it crashed into a concrete barrier, spun like a circle, jumped over the SUV directly ahead of them, and came to rest hanging over the railing (栏杆) of the bridge. Bauer hit the brakes in time to avoid the vehicles in his path.

And then another scream. It came from the truck, which had come to rest on its right side. The driver’s door flung open and a man climbed out. He dropped to the ground, then rushed to the railing. Bauer ran up beside him. The man pointed down, saying something in Spanish. In the water was a car seat. Moving next to it, a girl, about two years old. Pink polka-dotted dress, brown hair, brown eyes, terrified, floating on her back, kicking and splashing and screaming.

From around the truck, more screaming from others who had gotten clear of the accident came. Matters quickly went from bad to frightening when the little girl rolled over onto her stomach. Bauer waited for the truck driver to do something, but he was rooted. Maybe he was in shock.

He was not sure about his chances jumping from this height into such shallow water. Four feet of depth was the most he could hope for—he’d gotten his boat stuck here a time or two. And were there rocks this close to the concrete pillar (桥墩) of the bridge? But the truck driver didn’t move. Time ticking by, he had to take action. “Ava!” Bauer yelled, ready to remove his shoes. “Stay by the car!”