Free Chicken Soup for the Teenage Soul II by Jack Canfield, Mark Victor Hansen, Kimberly Kirberger Page B

pillow and try to sleep. I check the clock and see that Hope isn't sleeping. She's staring straight ahead, her eyes wide open.
"Hope?" I say, trying to get comfortable.
"What?"
"Good night."
"Night, Shawna, you moron," she says. "Now go to sleep and quit waking me up." She closes her eyes. Within a few minutes, she gets out of bed. Another bad joke is heard coming from the living room.
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I buy Hope a turkey sandwich and a bag of chips for myself and start down the hill. She's waiting in our spot. I hand her the sandwich and sit down. The events of the last twenty-four hours play over in my mind. Aunt Catherine started chemotherapy a week after surgery. Yesterday afternoon she was readmitted as she went into remission. She was doing fine, except for the nausea that comes with chemo. She had even amassed a collection of wigs and could go from brunette to blonde in minutes.
My mom told me this morning that the cancer missed the kidney but was growing now on her liver. Doctors can take out a kidney, but livers they can do nothing about. It took us all by surprise. I was still in aftershock. Hope tried her best to act like she knew it would happen and that it didn't bother her. But I could tell how much pain she was feeling by the way her eyes glazed and the fact that she couldn't remember her locker combination or count her
     

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money while we waited in line for the sandwich.
And yet she sits there, taking slow bites of her sandwich while I crunch away at my Sun Chips. The sun is brighter now, as the school year winds down. The beams seem to play with the shadows on her curved cheeks and catch, ever so slightly, on those chocolate pupils. She stares off into space, trying to look cold, but I can see that she is fighting back her fears. All I think is how it shouldn't have to be this way, no one saying anything. I find myself wishing that I could tell her how I feel, that I love her. Instead I move closer to her and sit right next to her. She doesn't even glance in my direction.
"Hope?" I say looking at her.
"What?"
"I just . . .  look, Hope, it's . . . " I look into her eyes and watch as a tear runs down her cheek.
"So do you think she'll be all right?" she asks, cutting me off, her eyes pleading for reassurance. I can't think of a thing to say, and this time I don't have to. I hold her in my arms as she begins to sob, and Hope finally lets go.
Shawna Singh
     

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I Need You Now
My friend, I need you now 
Please take me by the hand. 
Stand by me in my hour of need, 
Take time to understand.
Take my hand, dear friend, 
And lead me from this place. 
Chase away my doubts and fears, 
Wipe the tears from off my face.
Friend, I cannot stand alone. 
I need your hand to hold, 
The warmth of your gentle touch 
In my world that's grown so cold.
Please be a friend to me 
And hold me day by day. 
Because with your loving hand in mine, 
I know we'll find the way.
Becky Tucker
     

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Choices
Hold a friend's hand through times of trial,
Let her find love through a hug and a smile;
But also know when it is time to let go
For each and every one of us must learn to grow.
Sharon A. Heilbrunn
When I first met Molly, she instantly became my best friend. We enjoyed the same things, laughed at the same jokes and even had the same love for sunflowers.
It seemed like we had found each other at the right time. Both of us had been in different groups of friends that didn't get along or we didn't feel comfortable in. We were thrilled to find each other.
Our friendship grew very strong. Our families became friends, and everyone knew that wherever you found Molly, you found me, and vice versa. In fifth grade, we were not in the same class, but at lunch we both sat in nearby assigned seats and turned around to talk to each other. The lunch ladies did not like this. We were always blocking the aisle,