Free Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul on Tough Stuff by Jack Canfield Page A

broke.”
    I knew exactly how she felt. I was doing my best when my parents’ marriage broke.
    She plopped herself on the step next to me. “So, what do you think? Do I get a do-over?”
    She was so serious. I wanted her to know that I understood the weight of her question, but I just couldn’t hold back the smile that had welled up from within me. She looked up, waiting for my answer.
    â€œWell, I know you didn’t step on the rope and make the handle pull out because I was watching you.” She gave a serious nod. “And it isn’t as if your shoe came off because you didn’t tie it tightly enough.” She studied her shoes and nodded again.
    â€œSo, given all the circumstances, I do believe that you’re entitled to a do-over.”
    â€œMe, too,” she said, dropping the handle and rope into my lap. “You fix the handle, and I’ll let you keep count for me. I stopped at sixty-four, and I bet I can skip over a hundred and that’s my highest good counting number.”
    So I fixed her rope and counted her do-over up to one hundred and twelve.
    â€œOne hundred and twelve!” She gave me a high-five. “That’s higher than Amy at school, and she’s a grade ahead of me!”
    That is when the miracle happened. It was a little thing, heartfelt and easily given. Then she hugged me! The warmth of her hug made my heart smile and, just like the sun coming out from behind the clouds, I understood.
    â€œMeet me tomorrow,” she said, completely unaware of all she had just given me.
    My parents did get a divorce, and it was very painful. But it wasn’t me who caused it, and there was nothing I could have done to prevent it. With my new understanding that came from the innocence of a little girl, I too had earned a do-over.
    Carrie Hill
As told to Cynthia Hamond

Table for Three
    I’m awakened by the sound of voices arguing in the garage. Rolling over, I squint my eyes at the alarm clock, realizing it’s only five in the morning. I recognize the two voices as my mom and dad’s. I hear my father’s voice rising as my mom’s darts around in hysteria. I’m familiar with this sickening duet, only just not at this early hour.
    I recall a conversation I had with my dad and realize its implications are just now taking effect. Last week over fries at McDonald’s, he shared a secret with me that would forever change my life. He began by asking if I was happy with the way things were at home. I knew he was referring to the tension that existed between him and my mom. It’s not that I was happy with the way things were, but I was frightened by the thought of divorce. It’s sort of like hanging on to an iceberg.
    Divorce is rampant among my friends’ parents, and although I knew that it was inevitable that we three would soon join the group, this was one club I did not want to be a member of.
    Then out of nowhere, he was sharing this loaded “secret” with me—a secret I never wanted to hear. He was telling me that he’d be leaving my mother next week, all the while assuring me that he’d always be there for me. I found myself nodding my head as if I understood, when all along I really didn’t. He told me they hadn’t been happy for a very long time, and I’m thinking, If you’re both not happy, why the big secret? Why isn’t Mom here sharing this awful moment?
    He hugged me in an awkward kind of bear hug, and I got all stiff to his touch. Scratching his nose, he informed me that he wasn’t ready to tell my mom he was leaving just yet. I asked him when he was going to tell her, and he closed his eyes while sighing, “When the moment’s right.”
    So for two weeks now, I have stared into my mom’s eyes, while never revealing the secret. I am betraying her just like my dad is. I try to convince myself that the conversation at McDonald’s never really happened at