英语沙龙 初中一年级.docx

英语沙龙 初中一年级.docx

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英语沙龙初中一年级

英语沙龙初中一年级

TheSeventhGrade

IrememberclearlythedayJohnarrived．

Iwassittinginourdrab1）livingroom，bored．Thewholehouse，infact，seemedtomeverylifeless．Mymotherhadfurnisheditwithplainfurniture．Thewallswereeachassignedadullartpiece，justtobeproper．Alltheroomswerecolorlessandplain，exceptone．Itwastheroomintheattic2）．Thatroomwasneverboring．EversinceIcouldrememberithadalwaysbeenfullofthebelongingsofaboarder3）．Sometimesitwasarelativeorafriend，butmostofthetimeitwasjustastranger．SomeonelikeJohn．

JohnarrivedoneSaturdayafternooninSeptember．Ourlastboarderhadgoneoffandgottenmarriedorsomethingsotheatticroomwasfree．I'danticipatedhisarrivallongingly．Theboardersweretheonlybreakfromthedullnessofmylife．Whenthedoorbellrang，Iwantedtojumpupandanswerit．Icontrolledmyself，however．“Mother”alwaysansweredthedoor．“Whatifitissomeoneimportant？

”shewouldsay．“Whatwouldtheythink，achildansweringthedoor？

”Iusedtowonderhowlongshewasgoingtocallmeachild．

Motherstrodeout4）ofthespotlesskitchen，thecreasesinhergreyflannel5）pantsswayingslightly．Asshereachedthedoorshetypicallyplacedherhandonthefierceknotofmouse－brownhairatthenapeofherneck．

“Yes，it'sstillthere，”Imusedsilently．

Whenshewassatisfiedthateverythingwasinorder，sheunlatchedthedoorandswungitopen．TherestoodJohn．

HewasslightlytallerthanMother（stillnotverytall）．Hehadlongishblondhairthatsortofhunginhiseyes．Hewaswearingafadeddenimjacket，redjeansandablackandyellowstripedteeshirt．Onhisfeetwereyellowsneakers－withoutlaces6）．OnelookathimandIknewIwouldlikehim．OnelookatMother'sfaceandIknewshewasn'tthinkingthesamething．Shedidn'tvoiceherdisdain7），however．Shesteppedpolitelyasideandsaid，“Comein．MynameisMrs．Dawson．”

“Hello，”Johnsaid，barelyaudibly8），“I'mJohnSteele．”Ijumpedupandgreetedhimwarmly．“Hi．I'mKate．”Isaid．

“Katherine，youneedn'tbesoloud，”Mymothercriticized．IpretendednottonoticeJohncockinghiseyebrow．

ThoughMothermayhavehaddoubts，Johnturnedouttobetheperfectboarder．Hehadallhisstuffbroughtinthenextdaywhilewewereoutatchurch．Hewasneat，quietandpolite．Healmostneveratewithus．ThatwasluckyforhimbecauseMotherwasahorriblecook．Shewouldn'tletmecookeither．“Notuntilyou'velearnedhowatschool，”shewouldsay．Ioftenwonderedwhereshehadlearned．

Anyway，allwentwellforaboutamonthuntilonedayIboughtanewBeatlesrecordandhaditplayingveryloudwhenMothercamehomefromwork．JohnwasinthelivingroomwithmeandhedidsomethingIhadn'texpected．AsMotherwalkedintothefronthallandshouted“Kath－er－ine，”pronouncingeachsyllableharshly，Johnjumpedupandputhishandsonthedialsofthestereo．MotherappearedinthedoorwayandstoodsilentlywhileJohnremovedtherecord．Heturnedaroundtolookather．

“Wedonotplayourmusicthatloudinthishousehold，John，”shesaidseverely．Johnlookeddownathisyellowsneakersnowwithlacescourteously9）providedbythewomanwhowasglaringathim．“Isthatunderstood？

”Motherasked．

“Yesma'am，”Johnanswered．Then，asMotherstrodeofftoherroom，Johnlookedupandflashedmeabigsmile．Iwastooshockedtosmileback．Johnwasthefirstboarderwehadeverhadwhoseemedtocareaboutme．

Ilikedhimalot，butIdidn'treallyunderstandhim．Hewassoquiet，yetheseemedsocarefree．Hedidn'tseemtocarethathehadnomoney，orthathewaslivinginadingy10）townwithnothinggoingforit．IwishedIcouldbemorelikehim，buttherewasalwaysMothertellingmeIwastooyoungtodothisortoooldtodothat．Johnseemedsofree．FreedomwassomethingMotherdidnotcondone．Shewasreallybeginningtobothermeatthispoint．Beingingradeseven，Ireallywastooyoungforsomethingsandtoooldfortherest．Motherjustmadethefeelingof“stuck－in－the－middleness”worsebyalwaysremindingme．

Onenightshewasyellingatmeforwantingtostayoutlaterthantenonweekends．Ijustsatandlistenedtoherraveaboutbeingworriedandtryingtomaintaindisciplineinafatherlesshomeetc．Asshewastellingmeaboutchildrenneedinglotsofrest，Johnappearedinthedoorwaybehindher．Hisexpressionwasoneofdismay，likehedidn'tunderstandwhyshewasyellingatme．Hedidn'tlookatmethough．HiseyesseemedtobefixedontheknotofhairatMother'sneck．Thatknot，theperfectsymbolofstrictness，propernessandboredom．

IknewJohnwantedtobuttin，butheknewitwasnoneofhisbusiness．OrperhapshewantedmetodealwithMother．Helookeddownandwalkedaway．Hisappearance，however，gavemeinspiration．Istoodupandyelled（alittlelouderthanIshouldhave）“Mother，you'rebeingsoconservative．”

“Younglady，youwillnotraiseyourvoicetome，”Mothersaid，eyesblazing．“Oh，forChrist'ssake，”Imuttered．Anothermistake．

“Youcangotoyourroomwithoutdinner，Katherine．WedonottaketheLord'snameinvain．”

Knowingthatmorearguingwoulddonogood，Iheavedanexaggeratedsighandtrudgedoffuptomyroom．AsIstompedupthestairs，IheardJohnsayhewasgoingoutforawhileandthedoorslamshut．

Aboutanhourlatertherewasaknockatmybedroomdoor．Iopenedit．Johnwasstandingtherewithabagofchocolatecaramel11）chewsandatallglassofmilk．Hesmiled．

“Ithoughtyoumightlikeasnack，”hesaid．

“Thanks，”Isaid，abitsurprised．Johnstartedtoleave；thenhestoppedandturnedaround．

“Youknow，youshouldn’ttalkbacktoyourmother，”hesaidspeakingslowlyandcarefully．“Itdoesnogoodatyourage．Mothersareconfusedbetweenbeingamotherandafriend．Theysoongetoverit．Justwait．”Hesmiledandleft，closingthedoorbehindhim．

Laterthatnight，afterIhadgonetobed，IheardnoisesfromJohn’sroom．SinceIwaswideawakeIdecidedtoinvestigate．Itiptoeduptheatticstairs，carefultoskiptheseventhstepbecauseitsqueakedatrociously．John’sdoorwasopenandhewassittingonhisbed，fullydressed，softlyplayingtheguitar．Helookedupandsawme．

“Hello，”hesaid．“Whatareyoudoingup？

”

“Iheardyou．Whatareyoudoing？

”Iasked．

“I’m．．．”hepaused，“writingasong，”hefinished．

“Really？

”Iasked．“That’sneat．”

“Yeah，”Johnsaidsmiling．“Didyouenjoythecookies？

”

“Oh，yeah．Therearesomeleft－－here．”Ipassedhimthehalffullbag．Hetookoneoutandbitintoitpensively．

“Doyouwritealotofsongs？

”Iasked，notknowingwhatelsetosay．

“Tons，”heanswered．“Infact，that’sallIdo．Well，Isingthemtoo．”

“You’reamusician．Ididn’tknowthat．”

“Yep，Iam．SomedayI‘llhaveabest－sellingalbumandberichandfamous．”

Ilaughedathisoptimism．

“Iwill，youknow，”heinsisted．“Whynot？

Otherpeoplehavedoneit．”

“Iguessso，”Isaid．“Ineverthoughtofitthatway．”

“Isuggestyoustartthinking‘thatway．’Itwouldmakeiteasiertogetthroughthistime．”

“Whattime？

”Iasked．

Johnbithislip，searchingfortherightexpression．

“Thein－betweentime，”hefinallysaid．“Tooyoungbuttooold．Youknow－－seventhgrade．”Hestoppedandlickedthechocolatefromhisfingers，thenhewenton．“Yougothroughlotsofin－betweensinyourlife．Youjustgottostickitout．Ifigureyoucan'tgobackwardsandyoucan'tstayinthemiddlesoyouhavetogettotheothersidesomehow．”

“I'minanin－betweentimenow－－betweenbeingnothingandsomething，butIdon’tletitgetmedown．Ilivehappyinthepresent，butIdon’tforgetthefuturebecauserightnow，it’sallIhave．”

Helookedup，straightatme．Thehelplessnessinhiseyesshockedmeandhissilentgazepiercedmyheartlikeadagger．Thenitwasgoneandhischeerfulnessreturned．

“Imaynothavemuchnow，butit’llgetbetter．I’mgonnamakeit．”Hetappedhisguitarwithhisfingers．

“IwishIcouldfeelthatway，”Isaidsoftly．

“Youcan．”heinsisted．“Don’tyouhavedreams？

”

“Yeah，”Ianswered．

“Well，keepdreamingthem．They’llgetyouthrough．It’salrighttohavedreams；it’sjustabadwordforambitionanyway．”

“Yeah，you'reright．”Iperkedupabit．

“OfcourseI’mright．I’malwaysright．Comehere．”

Ileanedforwardandhekissedmeontheforeheadsaying，“AsMickJonessays，‘Goeasy，steplightly，stayfree．’”

“Free．WhataboutMother？

”Iasked，blushing．

“Oh，mother．Letmetakecareofmother．”

“Whatareyougoingtodo？

”

“Oh，Idon’tknow，”hislipsformedanevilsmile．“MaybeI’llkillher．”

Ilaughedloudly．Johnwincedatthenoiseandmouthedthewords“gotobed．”Igotupandcreptbacktomyroom（skippingtheseventhstair）．Isleptpeacefullyallnight．

Idon’tknowwhatJohnsaidtoMother，butthenextdaysheaskedhimtomoveout．Histhingswereassembledbythatevening．Heneversaidawordtomebutashewalkedouttohisfriend’struck，heturnedbacktomeandheldupsevenfingersforgoodluckandthentwoforpeace．Ididthesamewithtearsinmyeyes．

Icriedmyselftosleepthatnightandwouldn’teatthenextday，butstrangelyenough，Motherdidn’tsayanything．Infactsheleftmeprettymuchaloneforalong，longtimeafterthat．

Well，I’mingradetennow，andI’msupposedtobeanadult．I’msupposedtosolvemyownproblemsanddealwithmyownemotions．Mother’sstill－－well－－amother，andlife’sstilldull，buttherearelittlethingsthatgivehope．Likelastweek，IwasinSoundCity，andtherewasJohn’sfaceonthecoverofthenumberonesellingalbum．Youknowwhathecalledit？

TheSeventhGrade．

byGabriellePrendergast

初中一年级

（作者在创作此文时，还是加拿大高中一年级的学生，此文曾获１９８４年加拿大萨斯喀彻温省中学生写作竞赛一等奖。

）

约翰来到我家的那一天，我至今还记忆犹新。

我坐在死气沉沉的客厅里，感到很乏味。

在我看来，我的家整个儿来说都是毫无生气的。

屋内摆设着母亲买来的简单朴素的家具，每一面墙上都挂着一幅平淡无味的艺术画，不过是摆摆样子而已。

所有的房间都很单调乏味，只有一个房间例外，那就是小阁楼，它从来不让我感到腻味。

自从我记事以来，那间小阁楼总是放满了来我家寄宿的客人的行李和物品。

偶尔，来寄宿的也有亲戚或朋友，但大多数都是陌生人，像约翰这样的陌生人。

约翰是在９月的一个星期六下午来的。

前一个寄宿的人