I (Allison) am a grade eight student in the Challenge program at Calvin Park Public School. I wrote this story for a project called Challenge for Change which is meant to raise awareness for a global issue. My story is about two girls, one wealthy and one poor, who meet at a homeless shelter. Will their different backgrounds keep them apart, or bring them together?
NOTE: THIS IS THE FINAL CHAPTER; PLEASE GO BACK TO CH. 1 TO BEGIN!
*********************
It’s Saturday, December 23rd and Rachel and I are spread out on my carpet, reading magazines. School was let out long ago, and we’ve been hanging out more and more since then. We’ve done several other fundraisers and raised tons more money. Though we still have a long way to go, we’ve made great progress. Mom told us to take a well-needed break.
Suddenly, I hear the motor of a vehicle, strangely close to our house. I spring to my feet and go over to the front door to see a white van with the words AKWS News printed on the side parked in our driveway. People pile out of the van, carrying cameras. This is certainly strange. Why would the news station be coming to my family’s house?
I open the door for a middle-aged man with thinning brown hair and a mustache. I recognize him form the nightly local news – Eric Johnston, a reporter. "Good morning," he says in a friendly tone. "Are you Rachel or Mildred?"
"Uh...I’m Mildred," I respond, feeling slightly nervous. "But I prefer Milli."
"Excellent!" he says as more people spill into the house. "Is Rachel here as well?"
"Yep," I say. I turn and holler "Rraacchheell!" into the next room.
Rachel’s there in a split second. When she sees all the people and the flashing cameras, she looks downward shyly.
"Hey, Rachel," the original man says. "I’m Eric, and I’m here to interview you and Milli."
"Interview us? Why? How? When? Wh-"
Eric interrupts before Rachel’s string of questions go on too long. "It was Milli’s mom who set this up, actually. She called us and told you about the wonderful project you were doing. We were instantly interested and we think our viewers on AKWS News will be, too."
Oh. So it’s about our project. Of course – why didn’t I think of that?
Rachel’s still looking at the floor. "So if we do the interview, we’ll be seen on TV? By hundreds of people?"
I’m about to tell Rachel to get a grip – this is good news – but Eric just smiles encouragingly. "Are you a little nervous? That’s okay – why don’t we have Milli talk first? Is that fine with you, Milli?"
"Sure," I say, shrugging.
"Great. You just talk into the microphone, and Katrina here will film us."
Katrina, a pretty brunette in a blue sweater, turns the camera on us.
Eric begins. "We are here with two of this city’s most passionate young change-makers, Milli McTavish and Rachel Brown. These 13-year-old young ladies are working hard to raise money to rebuild the rundown homeless shelter on Oak Street. Their compassion and perseverance is an inspiration to all of us, and today we’re going to hear their stories. Milli, how did you and Rachel come up with the idea for this project?" Eric points the microphone at me.
I take a deep breath. "Well, I met Rachel in the homeless shelter earlier this month. My mom volunteers at it. I was appalled at the dingy state of everything in it. I discussed this issue with Rachel, and we came up with a plan to raise money to rebuild it. Our first attempt at fundraising – a bake sale – wasn’t so successful, but we kept going and have had more success." I pause and look away from the microphone to show Eric I’m done. My heart is thudding. Have I done a good job? Was it disrespectful to say the shelter was dingy? I carefully avoided saying Rachel was homeless – did that come across anyway? Oh no, I think I haven’t brushed my hair! Will I look like a slob on television?
If I do, Eric’s expression doesn’t show it. He smiles politely and beckons Rachel over. "Now, Rachel has a personal story to share that relates to this cause. Rachel?"
I give Rachel what I hope is an encouraging look, while secretly hoping that she doesn’t mess up. But Rachel comes through. "I lost my home about a year ago," she begins shyly. "It happened when my dad walked out on us and my mom lost her job. We were evicted from our house and forced to jump from shelter to shelter. At first I didn’t want to come to the Oak Street Shelter, but now I’m glad I did. I met Milli, the best friend I’ve had. She looked past my outer appearance and saw the true me. Working on this project with her has given me the strength to keep going even in tough times." Tears streak down her cheeks as she wraps up, but I figure that just makes our story more potent.
"Milli," Eric asks, "has this project benefitted you as it did for Rachel?"
"Yes, definitely," I say. "Before I met Rachel, I was honestly kind of shallow. I didn’t care much about important things like love and kindness. But Rachel taught me to look past outward appearances and see the wonderful, kind person inside. I started wanting to make a real difference in the world. This may be a small project, but it will make a huge difference in the lives of Rachel and many other people. You can make a difference, too." I’m satisfied as I finish my short speech. Sure, it may be cheesy, but it shows what’s really important in life.
Eric then comes to my mom and asks her about what she thinks of "her fantastic daughter." Mom’s speech is basically a bunch of gushing about how kind and generous and hardworking and intelligent Rachel and I are, but it makes me smile. My heart swells with love for her and Rachel and all my other family (including my late father) and the news people and the whole world.
Eric finishes the interview by saying, "Thank you for listening to this heartwarming story of two girls who, despite their differences, are using their friendship to help the world. We need more people like these two."
Katrina turns the camera off and starts toward the door, followed by all the other random people (who, to be honest, I don’t see why they’re there). Eric remains and shakes our hands heartily. "Thank you, girls. That was a pleasure."
"You’re welcome," Rachel and I say as he leaves with a final friendly wave to us.
Once the news truck disappears around the corner, me, Rachel, and my mom are left standing around in my living room. None of us is quite sure what to say. Rachel is the first to break the silence. "Well, that went well," she says without a trace of sarcasm.
I suddenly whirl around and envelope Rachel in a crushing hug. Rachel hugs me back. "Thank you, Milli," she says in a choked voice. "You saved my life."
"You saved my life, too," I reply, pushing myself more tightly around her. I realize we really did save each others’ lives. Maybe not literally, but emotionally. We gave each other happiness and helped each others’ characters grow. But there’s someone else who contributed to that, too.
I give my mom one of the same bear hugs. I’m so close I can smell her clean, fresh scent. It’s funny – just a month ago I would have resisted her hugs. But now I’m initiating them.
"I love you," I tell her.
"Oh, Milli," she says, stroking my hair gently. "I love you, too."
Full of happiness, I plop back down on the carpet and pick up the magazine again. Rachel flops beside me, and my mom goes back to her work. But I can’t focus on reading. I’m too busy reflecting on everything that’s happened to me recently.
That’s when I realize – it’s just two days to Christmas, the one-year anniversary of my dad’s death. My eyes start to well up suddenly. Rachel puts her arm around me, and I feel better. It’s just something like that – a simple gesture from a true friend – that makes a big difference.
As I glance out the window, I see the snow falling, light and soft and magical. Christmas lights of many different colours sparkle on the fronts of houses and on our Christmas tree. It’s a perfect just-before-Christmas scene. It fits perfectly with the joy and love that’s spreading through our home right now – and that I hope will spread through the Oak Street Shelter when our project is finished.
In this last month, I have changed in ways I wouldn’t have believed possible. I have gone through setbacks and lost friends. But I also have made a new, truer friend, learned about the value of love, and made a difference in the world. I hope that all the days to come will bring more of the same. But for now, I’m content just sitting back and relaxing with my best friend on a perfect, joyous winter day.
The End
I hope you enjoyed my story, and I want to thank you all for reading it and commenting. I hope my story warms your heart and inspires you to create some change in the world. Remember, just a small effort can make a big difference.
Tuesday, February 14, 2012
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Chapter 9 - Rachel
I (Allison) am a grade eight student in the Challenge program at Calvin Park Public School. I wrote this story for a project called Challenge for Change which is meant to raise awareness for a global issue. My story is about two girls, one wealthy and one poor, who meet at a homeless shelter. Will their different backgrounds keep them apart, or bring them together?
*********************
After much debating and thinking, Milli and I finally come up with a plan. We will sell books at Milli’s school. Fortunately, Milli has plenty.
She digs out a huge, dusty box of books from a tight corner of her room. I gape at the piles of books – all my old favorites. Classics such as Little Women and Anne of Green Gables, newer books like the Harry Potter and A Series of Unfortunate Events series, ten-year-old stories by Beverly Cleary and R.L. Stine – they’re all there. It reminds me of "the good old days" when I would hide beneath the covers late at night, weaving a flashlight across the pages of a dog-eared paperback. I reach into the box, like I’m plunging my hand into a treasure trove, and pull out Kristy’s Big Day by Ann M. Martin. Instantly I am lost in the pages.
Milli tugs on my shoulder playfully. "C’mon, Rachel. I want to be ready for the fundraiser before a week from Tuesday."
"Can’t I just finish this book first?" I mutter.
Milli rolls her eyes. "Is a book more important than our job?"
"Well, then, you try reading one then." I pick up a Nancy Drew and toss it at Milli. Within seconds she is lying on the floor, eyes glued to the pages like an invisible force is connecting them.
"Let’s get started, Milli," I tell her.
"Hey! I’m only on page three!" Milli protests. Then she realizes what’s just happened and bursts into laughter. "Sorry, Rachel. I guess we’ve both forgotten what it feels like to read."
"That’s okay," I grin. "But can I keep this book?"
"Sure – as long as I can keep my good ol’ Nancy Drew." Milli hugs the book tightly to herself.
We manage to pry ourselves away from the books long enough to sort through the books. We make two piles – one for sellable books and one for those with missing pages, stained pages or falling-off covers (and our keepsakes, or course). There are less damaged books than at first appear, and we have a good fifty books ready to be sold. That may not get us loaded with money, but if we sell them all, we’ll have improved our profits.
The next day, at noon, I climb up the steps of Milli’s school, hearing my footsteps reverberate off the stone. Milli’s school is a fancy private school in the rich end of town. Though I took care to put on my best clothes, I still feel out of place in this place with the high ceilings and polished floors.
Despite that, the school’s secretary welcomes me warmly. "Pleased to meet you, Rachel," she says, extending her perfectly manicured hand to shake mine. I nervously grab it, surprised that such a wealthy woman even acknowledges my existence. "It’s admirable that you and Milli are fundraising for such a good cause."
"Th-thank you," I stammer. Her friendliness almost makes me more self-conscious. I straighten out my blouse and hope that I look half-presentable, that she’s not secretly thinking, "That girl is dirty."
Then Milli rounds the corner, wearing a navy sweater and white pleated shirt. Probably a school uniform – all the kids streaming through the hallways are wearing navy and white. She hugs me, smiling. "Hey, Rach. Our stand’s just around the corner."
I follow her to a table next to the school’s back door. "I placed it here so everyone will see it as they head out for recess," she explains.
"That’s a good idea," I say. I glance around the table. "Do we have room for any more books?"
"Yeah, I think we can fit a few more," Milli replies. "Why?"
Grinning, I tip out the contents of my bag. Twenty books spill out onto the table.
Milli picks up one and inspects the cover. "Choose Your Own Adventure? Journey Under the Sea? Where’d you get those?"
"A neighbour lent them to me. They always were my favourite series. I loved them because instead of reading straight text, you got to choose what happened. When we lost our house, I couldn’t bear to part with them."
"But you’re parting with them now?" Milli says. "You’re really generous."
That was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever had to make – those books were practically my life. After we became homeless, I’d spent hours poring over them, getting lost in their multiple storylines, imagining a world where I had more control over what happened than I did in real life. I didn’t know what I’d do without them. But I did it anyway – for our fundraiser, for my family, for all the people who had to face the same circumstances us and even worse ones.
And it pays off – our business is booming. Many of the kids haven’t even heard of the older books before, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t interested. The girls love the Babysitters Club books, while the boys are interested in the exciting adventure books. One teacher buys half of the Choose Your Own Adventure books in one swoop, saying he remembers them from when he was a kid (the books are quite old).
The only ones who aren’t interested are Brianna and Jenna, who saunter by with a crowd of other pretty, well-dressed girls. They barely glance at us, except for Jenna, who loudly whispers to Brianna, "Is our ex-BFF hanging out with it again?"
Milli rolls her eyes. "I can’t believe I used to be friends with them."
I can’t believe it, either. That same girl who, apparently, used to sit on the steps and gossip about people who weren’t "cool enough" is now selling old books to raise funds to rebuild a homeless shelter.
By the time all the students have filed back in from recess, the table of books is completely empty, and the money bowl is full. Even the old grade 12 biology textbook that Milli’s dad kept around, which Milli swore would never sell, has sold to the school genius. It’s a job well done.
I’m smiling as I help Milli carry the table through the halls of the school and out the door. Sure, I know we’re not even close to raising the amount of money needed. But this is a start, and as that quote by Lao-tzu goes, "A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step." I’m sure that with lots of hard work and determination, and luck like we had today, we’ll be able to achieve our goal.
Keep checking in - my final wrap-up with Chapter 10 is on its way!
*********************
After much debating and thinking, Milli and I finally come up with a plan. We will sell books at Milli’s school. Fortunately, Milli has plenty.
She digs out a huge, dusty box of books from a tight corner of her room. I gape at the piles of books – all my old favorites. Classics such as Little Women and Anne of Green Gables, newer books like the Harry Potter and A Series of Unfortunate Events series, ten-year-old stories by Beverly Cleary and R.L. Stine – they’re all there. It reminds me of "the good old days" when I would hide beneath the covers late at night, weaving a flashlight across the pages of a dog-eared paperback. I reach into the box, like I’m plunging my hand into a treasure trove, and pull out Kristy’s Big Day by Ann M. Martin. Instantly I am lost in the pages.
Milli tugs on my shoulder playfully. "C’mon, Rachel. I want to be ready for the fundraiser before a week from Tuesday."
"Can’t I just finish this book first?" I mutter.
Milli rolls her eyes. "Is a book more important than our job?"
"Well, then, you try reading one then." I pick up a Nancy Drew and toss it at Milli. Within seconds she is lying on the floor, eyes glued to the pages like an invisible force is connecting them.
"Let’s get started, Milli," I tell her.
"Hey! I’m only on page three!" Milli protests. Then she realizes what’s just happened and bursts into laughter. "Sorry, Rachel. I guess we’ve both forgotten what it feels like to read."
"That’s okay," I grin. "But can I keep this book?"
"Sure – as long as I can keep my good ol’ Nancy Drew." Milli hugs the book tightly to herself.
We manage to pry ourselves away from the books long enough to sort through the books. We make two piles – one for sellable books and one for those with missing pages, stained pages or falling-off covers (and our keepsakes, or course). There are less damaged books than at first appear, and we have a good fifty books ready to be sold. That may not get us loaded with money, but if we sell them all, we’ll have improved our profits.
The next day, at noon, I climb up the steps of Milli’s school, hearing my footsteps reverberate off the stone. Milli’s school is a fancy private school in the rich end of town. Though I took care to put on my best clothes, I still feel out of place in this place with the high ceilings and polished floors.
Despite that, the school’s secretary welcomes me warmly. "Pleased to meet you, Rachel," she says, extending her perfectly manicured hand to shake mine. I nervously grab it, surprised that such a wealthy woman even acknowledges my existence. "It’s admirable that you and Milli are fundraising for such a good cause."
"Th-thank you," I stammer. Her friendliness almost makes me more self-conscious. I straighten out my blouse and hope that I look half-presentable, that she’s not secretly thinking, "That girl is dirty."
Then Milli rounds the corner, wearing a navy sweater and white pleated shirt. Probably a school uniform – all the kids streaming through the hallways are wearing navy and white. She hugs me, smiling. "Hey, Rach. Our stand’s just around the corner."
I follow her to a table next to the school’s back door. "I placed it here so everyone will see it as they head out for recess," she explains.
"That’s a good idea," I say. I glance around the table. "Do we have room for any more books?"
"Yeah, I think we can fit a few more," Milli replies. "Why?"
Grinning, I tip out the contents of my bag. Twenty books spill out onto the table.
Milli picks up one and inspects the cover. "Choose Your Own Adventure? Journey Under the Sea? Where’d you get those?"
"A neighbour lent them to me. They always were my favourite series. I loved them because instead of reading straight text, you got to choose what happened. When we lost our house, I couldn’t bear to part with them."
"But you’re parting with them now?" Milli says. "You’re really generous."
That was one of the hardest decisions I’ve ever had to make – those books were practically my life. After we became homeless, I’d spent hours poring over them, getting lost in their multiple storylines, imagining a world where I had more control over what happened than I did in real life. I didn’t know what I’d do without them. But I did it anyway – for our fundraiser, for my family, for all the people who had to face the same circumstances us and even worse ones.
And it pays off – our business is booming. Many of the kids haven’t even heard of the older books before, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t interested. The girls love the Babysitters Club books, while the boys are interested in the exciting adventure books. One teacher buys half of the Choose Your Own Adventure books in one swoop, saying he remembers them from when he was a kid (the books are quite old).
The only ones who aren’t interested are Brianna and Jenna, who saunter by with a crowd of other pretty, well-dressed girls. They barely glance at us, except for Jenna, who loudly whispers to Brianna, "Is our ex-BFF hanging out with it again?"
Milli rolls her eyes. "I can’t believe I used to be friends with them."
I can’t believe it, either. That same girl who, apparently, used to sit on the steps and gossip about people who weren’t "cool enough" is now selling old books to raise funds to rebuild a homeless shelter.
By the time all the students have filed back in from recess, the table of books is completely empty, and the money bowl is full. Even the old grade 12 biology textbook that Milli’s dad kept around, which Milli swore would never sell, has sold to the school genius. It’s a job well done.
I’m smiling as I help Milli carry the table through the halls of the school and out the door. Sure, I know we’re not even close to raising the amount of money needed. But this is a start, and as that quote by Lao-tzu goes, "A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step." I’m sure that with lots of hard work and determination, and luck like we had today, we’ll be able to achieve our goal.
Keep checking in - my final wrap-up with Chapter 10 is on its way!
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