His father said, "All set, boy?" and Johnson nodded, picking up his gun with, awkward gloved bands. His father pushed open the door end they went out into the freezing dawn together.

Ordinarily Johnson would take out his camera to record the scenery, but not this morning. This was the morning, particularly sacred, when 14-year-old Johnson would go duck hunting for the first time.

However, he hated it, and had hated the whole idea since his father bought him a gun. But he was determined to go through with it. He loved his father, and wanted his approval more than anything in the world.

They came to a narrow and hidden place facing the bay. Johnson sat down nervously and waited. To reduce fear he took a picture of his father against the clean water. Then he put the camera hurriedly on the grass and picked up his gun.

Johnson got his gun ready. "I'll let you shoot first," his father said, loading his own gun. "You know, I've been waiting for a long time for this day. Just the two of us…" He broke off, bending forward, eyes narrowed. "There's a small fight heading this way now. Keep your head down. I'll give you the word”.

The sun came out. Johnson could see everything clearly: his father's face, tense and eager, the white frost on the gun. His heart was beating wildly. He prayed, "Don't let them come, please!"

But they kept coming. "Four black," his father said. "One mallard (绿头鸭)." High above, Johnson heard the pulsing whistle of wings as the fight began to circle. The mallard was leading, his feet dropping down, reaching for the silver-colored water. Closer, clos…"Get set," his father whispered.

"Now!” cried Johnson's father. "Take them!”

Johnson felt his body obey. He stood up, holding the gun. In the same instant, the wild ducks saw the gunners and flew. "Shoot!" said something sharply in Johnson's brain. But up went the mallard higher still, until suddenly it caught the full force of the wind and flew away, out of range.

Saving the Daisies

Taylor aged 14 opened her sleepy eyes and looked out the window below. “NO!” she cried, now fully awake. Buttermilk the cow was in Mama’s daisy (雏菊) garden.

“I must have forgotten to close the gate last night,” Taylor thought as she pulled a sweatshirt over her head. Mama was planning to sell the daisies at the fair next week. But Buttermilk was eating the flowers. Taylor hurried outside and grabbed a rope.

“Why can’t you stay in the field?” she called to Buttermilk as she headed across the yard to the daisy garden. Buttermilk stood biting the tender flowers.

“When I grow up, I’ll be an artist and paint pictures all day,” Taylor thought. “I’ll not own a cow. Too much trouble.” Taylor was fond of painting since the day she had memory. She would like to help with family but she loved seeing birds and flowers alive under her brush more.

Just as Taylor was about to throw the rope onto Buttermilk’s collar, the family dog barked. Buttermilk couldn’t stand it and took off, tearing through the daisies. It finally ran through the open gate and into the field outside. “Thank goodness!” Taylor said as she closed the gate and secured the lock. But as she turned to look at the flower garden, most of the daisies were either eaten or left in pieces.

Mama and Dad came out of the house. “What’s going on?” Mama asked. She looked sadly at her garden. “I forgot to close the gate,” Taylor said. “I’m so sorry. ” “I know you are.” Mama sighed and gave Taylor a hug.

Taylor’s heart was heavy as she went back into the house. Mama had prepared much for the fair but now half of her efforts were in vain. Taylor decided to think of a way to make it up to her mother. The problem tasked Taylor’s mind. Could she plant other flowers in a week? Not enough time. Could she make use of the daisies in pieces? Not enough magic. Taylor found no way out.

I had never been more anxious in my life. I had just spent the last three endless hours trying to get to the airport so that I could travel home. Now, as I watched the bus driver set my luggage on the airport sidewalk, I realized that my anxiety had only just begun.

This was my first visit alone to the international terminal of the airport, and nothing was familiar. I could not make sense of any of the signs. Where was the check-in counter? Where should I take my luggage? I had no idea where to go, feeling as if I were deaf and blind and stupid. I began to panic. What time was it? Where was my plane? I had to find help because I could not be late!

I tried to ask a passing businessman for help, but my words all came out wrong. He just frowned and walked away. What had happened? I had been in this country for a whole semester, and I could not even remember how to ask for directions. This was awful! Another bus arrived at the terminal, and the passengers came out carrying all sorts of luggage. Here was my chance! I could follow them to the right place, and I would not have to say a word.

I dragged my enormous suitcase behind me and followed the group. We finally reached the elevators. Oh, no! They all fit in it, but there was not enough room for me. I watched in despair as the elevator doors closed. I was abandoned again! I had no idea what to do next. I got on the elevator when it returned and stared at all the buttons. Which one could it be? I pressed button 3, because I thought I saw those passengers pressed 3, though it was no more than a quick glance. The elevator slowly climbed up to the third floor and came to a stop. A high, unpleasant noise announced the opening of the doors, and I looked around shyly.

Tears formed in my eyes as I saw the empty hall and realized that I would miss my plane.

When I turned to thank him for all his help, he was gone.