Free Taste of Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul III by Jack Canfield

Experience Is a Teacher
    T he true test of character is not how much we know how to do, but how we behave when we don’t know what to do.
    John Holt
    I was shaking when I heard the car pull into the driveway. I blamed it on the chill in my house, although most likely it was because of my uncontrollable nerves. When I opened the door, Becca was standing on my porch with a smile plastered on her face.
    â€œHey,” she said. As she stepped inside the doorway, the guys behind her became visible. “Oh, ya,” she added. “This is Dan, Josh and Kevin.”
    â€œHi,” I said, and they replied the same in unison. They looked kind of like deer in headlights, standing outside the door, hands jammed in pockets, mouths half-open. As Becca made her way into the house, the guys followed her, and I felt awkwardly lost, unsure of what to say. To avoid forced conversation, I took the opportunity to jot a note to my mom, explaining where I was going.
    Eventually, we made it out of the house, and I found myself in the back seat of a navy-blue truck, wedged between Josh and Kevin, two older guys from a different school. Becca was chattering away in the passenger seat, changing the radio station and singing along. My legs began to shake, a sure indicator of my nervousness, and I had to put my hands on my thighs to steady them. We soon reached the restaurant, and I was thankful for the chance to get out of the truck.
    Dan was toying with the miniature coffee creamers at the end of the table. “I don’t trust these,” he announced. “They’ve probably been sitting here since 1982.”
    At the opposite end of the table, next to Kevin, I ­giggled, probably for the eighth time since we’d sat down. I wanted to smack myself. Between my legs shaking and my ridiculous giggling, my immature nervous habits were driving me crazy, and I prayed that nobody else noticed.
    Suddenly, Becca stood up. “I have to call my mom. Dan, come with me.”
    â€œUm, I’ll come, too,” I said. Feeling the need to elaborate, I continued, “I have to call my mom, too.” I felt stupid following Becca and Dan out to the lobby, like a girl in elementary school who can’t go anywhere without her best friend.
    As we waited while Becca called her mom, Dan nudged me and said, “So, what do you think of Josh and Kevin?”
    â€œJosh is pretty cute,” I said, figuring that honesty was the best way to go.
    â€œNot Kevin?” Dan’s eyes sparkled, and I knew what Becca had been talking about when she said how wonderful he was.
    â€œNo . . .” I looked out the window. “But don’t tell him that I said that.”
    â€œI won’t.” Of course he wouldn’t. What did I think this was, elementary school? I felt like a child in a world of adults, unsure how to act or what to say.
    â€œJosh thinks you’re really hot,” Dan continued.
    His statement immediately grabbed my attention. “Oh, really?” I was flattered.
    Becca hung up the phone and caught the end of our conversation, saying excitedly, “You have to sit by him when we go back to the table!”
    â€œNo,” I protested. “That’ll look dumb.”
    â€œNo it won’t,” she insisted, and Dan agreed.
    â€œYeah, we’ll just move stuff around or whatever.” It was obvious that this was an argument I was not going to win.
    When we returned to the table and assumed our new seats, Josh didn’t say anything. I wondered if he had ­figured out our juvenile plan, and then I wondered if he even cared. But I quickly tried to brush the thoughts out of my head and proceeded to giggle at everything Dan said.
    Next we went to the movies. Without Becca next to me in the theater, I felt completely defenseless. I gripped my knees for support, angry at myself for being nervous. Why couldn’t I have more self-confidence and be as charming as other girls are? I