Hobby Friday 我的爱好我做主

不要因為别人的目光而轻易放弃你心中的所爱，因为，爱好没有优劣之分，只要你真心喜欢。

Chris looked at the clock again. Only five more minutes before school let out.

"On Friday，" said his Creative Learning teacher， Mrs. Griswell， "be prepared to share your favorite hobby with the class. And please bring samples to show everyone！"

Chris groaned. No way am I going to talk about my favorite hobby， he thought. His older brother， Wes， teased him about it enough—and his dad didn't think much of it， either.

After school， Chris's friend Nick sat down beside him on the bus. "So what're you going to do for that hobby thing？" "Uh， I guess I can show my baseball cards，" Chris mumbled1）. No one except his family knew about his real hobby. "Cool，" said Nick. "I'll bring in some of my hockey posters."

As the bus pulled out of the parking lot， Brian tapped Chris on the shoulder. "Heard you guys talking. I'm going to bring my bowling trophies2）. Got five of them. I go every week， you know. Bet you don't know how to keep score. Bet the other kids don't know， either. I'll explain it. It's complicated， you know." "Yeah，" said Chris， turning back around in his seat so he wouldn't have to talk to him anymore. Brian always got on his nerves3）.

"Don't believe him，" Nick whispered. "He's the worst bowler I've ever seen." "But where will he get the trophies？" Nick shrugged. "Borrow some from his dad， I guess. He's really fake." The bus slowed down. "Hey， this is my stop. See you."

At home， Chris pulled out his boxes of baseball cards. He liked baseball—even played some. But his real hobby let him express things from his imagination， and that's what he liked most.

Sorting through his cards， Chris began choosing some of the best ones. He also thought about bringing in the ball that Albert Pujols4） had signed for him. And yet he didn't feel right about what he had decided.

Tuesday passed. Chris gathered his baseball supplies and put them in a grocery bag marked "My Favorite Hobby". He was ready for Friday， but something still felt wrong. He walked out of his room， ignoring the sketchpad5） on his desk.

Wednesday. After school Chris sat at the kitchen table with a cheese and ketchup sandwich and a glass of milk， but he wasn't hungry.

"What's up？" Chris's brother Wes asked， bursting through the door from soccer practice. "Nothing，" Chris mumbled. Wes pulled a bag of pretzels6） from the pantry7）. Chris picked at8） his sandwich. "Hey， today Nick said that Brian was a fake." "Why？" "Because he lies a lot. Makes stuff up to impress people， I guess." "Oh，" said Wes， chomping9） on a pretzel. "I guess Nick must be right， then. Brian sounds pretty fake." "I don't want to be fake，" said Chris. "Why would you be？" Chris thought for a second. "No reason." "Good，" Wes said， as he left the kitchen.

Chris sighed. He didn't want to be fake， but he wasn't sure he had the guts10） to tell everyone his real hobby. The guys would be all over11） him.

He chewed his sandwich slowly， thinking of Grandma. She was the reason he'd gotten interested in his hobby in the first place. "You have talent，" Grandma had told him proudly， admiring12） his work. And that felt really good.

Suddenly， Chris knew what he had to do. He dropped his sandwich on the plate and ran very fast to the phone. "Hi， Grandma， it's Chris. I need your help."

...

Friday morning.

"Are you ready， Chris？" Mrs. Griswell asked. Everyone in the class turned to look at him. Chris walked to the front of the classroom， clutching his grocery bag. His heart was pounding， and his legs felt shaky. I can't do this！ He thought frantically13）. "Go ahead and tell us about your hobby，" Mrs. Griswell said， smiling. Chris nodded. Get it over with14）， he told himself. Don't let them see you sweat. He remembered that from somewhere.

So he began. "I design things. I mean ... I design clothes and accessories15）." Yep！ There they were—the giggles and the sneers16）. "I'm a fashion designer." He brought out his sketchbook and flipped17） through pages showing his designs for jackets and caps， pants and shirts.

"My grandma designs clothes， too，" he explained. "She taught me all about patterns and sewing." There were still a few snickers18）， even though Mrs. Griswell was shaking her head.

But when Chris pulled a headband from his bag and put it on， the class became quiet. "This is one of my accessories for boys. I braided black and blue cording19） and attached a small flat stone that goes in the middle of the forehead." He heard Nick say， "Cool！"

"For girls， the cording is pink and purple with a small seashell."

"I love it！" exclaimed Amber. A few of the other girls nodded enthusiastically.

Chris felt a burst of hope. "I made headbands for everyone，" he said.

The whole class buzzed with excitement. Chris grinned. Now things finally felt right！

克里斯又看了一眼表，距离放学只剩五分钟了。

“本周五，”他的创意学习课老师格里斯韦尔夫人说，“大家准备好跟班里的同学分享一下你最大的爱好吧。请带一些小样过来给大家看看！”

克里斯叹了口气。我才不会讲自己最大的爱好，他想。他的哥哥韦斯因为这个已经戏弄他够多了，他的爸爸也觉得这爱好不怎么样。

放学后的校车上，克里斯的朋友尼克挨着他坐下了。“关于那个爱好的事，你准备怎么办？”“嗯，我想我可以给大家看看我的棒球卡。”克里斯咕哝着说。除了他的家人以外，没人知道他真正的爱好是什么。“不错啊，”尼克说，“我会带一些曲棍球的海报过来。”

校车驶离停车场时，布赖恩拍了拍克里斯的肩膀。“刚才听到你们俩讨论了。我会带我的保龄球奖杯。得了五個呢。知道吗，我每周都去打。你们肯定不知道怎么计分，其他同学肯定也不知道。我会讲解的，很复杂，知道吧。”“是啊。”克里斯说，他转过身去坐在自己的座位上，这样他就不用再跟布赖恩搭话了——布赖恩总是让他心烦意乱。

“别信他的，”尼克悄声说，“他是我见过的保龄球打得最烂的人。”“但他的奖杯要从哪儿弄来呢？”尼克耸耸肩。“从他爸那儿借几个吧，我猜。他这人挺假的。”校车放慢了速度。“嘿，我到站了。再见。”

回到家，克里斯拿出了自己一盒盒的棒球卡。他喜欢棒球，甚至还会打一点点。但他真正的爱好让他可以发挥想象力来表达自己，那才是他最喜欢做的。

克里斯整理着那些卡片，开始从中挑出一些最好的。他还想过把艾伯特·皮若尔给他签了名的那个球带过去。但他对自己决定要做的感觉不对。

周二过去了。克里斯收集了他的棒球物品，把它们放在一个杂货袋中，上面写着“我最大的爱好”。他为周五做好了准备，但还是有什么东西感觉不对。他走出自己的房间，没管桌上的速写本。

周三。放学后，克里斯坐在厨房餐桌旁，桌上放着一个芝士番茄酱三明治和一杯牛奶，但他不饿。

“怎么了？”克里斯的哥哥韦斯问道，足球训练归来的他推门而入。“没什么。”克里斯嘟囔着。韦斯从食品柜中拿出一包椒盐脆饼。克里斯磨磨蹭蹭地吃着三明治。“嘿，今天尼克说布赖恩是个骗子。”“为什么？”“因为他谎话连篇。编些谎话来向大家卖弄吧，我猜。”“噢，”韦斯说，大声嚼着一片椒盐脆饼，“那我想尼克说的肯定没错。布赖恩听上去挺假的。”“我不想骗人。”克里斯说。“你为什么要骗人呢？”克里斯想了一会儿。“不为什么。”“那就好。”韦斯说着离开了厨房。

克里斯叹了口气。他不想骗人，但他不确定他有勇气告诉所有人自己真正的爱好是什么。大家会对他进行口头攻击的。

他慢慢嚼着三明治，想到了奶奶。他最初对这个爱好产生兴趣就是因为奶奶。“你有天赋。”奶奶曾骄傲地对他说，还称赞他的作品。那种感觉太棒了。

突然间，克里斯知道自己该怎么做了。他把三明治扔在了盘中，飞快地跑到电话旁。“嗨，奶奶，我是克里斯。我需要您的帮助。”

……

周五上午。

“准备好了吗，克里斯？”格里斯韦尔夫人问。班里所有人都转头去看他。克里斯走到教室前面，手里紧紧抓着自己的杂货袋。他的心怦怦直跳，双腿感觉在颤抖。我做不到！他抓狂地想。“来吧，给我们讲讲你的爱好。”格里斯韦尔夫人微笑着说。克里斯点了点头。赶快讲完就好，他告诉自己。不要让他们看到你出汗，他记得在哪里看过这句话。

于是他开始了。“我会设计东西。我是说……我设计衣服和配饰。”果然！来了——咯咯的笑声和嘲讽声。“我是一名时尚设计师。”他拿出自己的速写本，快速翻页展示自己设计的夹克、帽子、裤子和衬衫。

“我奶奶也设计衣服，”他解释道，“画图、缝制方面的所有知识都是她教给我的。”还是有几声窃笑，尽管格里斯韦尔夫人在摇头[示意他们不要笑]。

但当克里斯从自己的袋子中拿出一条发带并戴在头上时，班里安静了下来。“这是我为男生设计的配饰之一。我把黑色和蓝色的绳子编织起来，并在额头中间的位置嵌上了一小块扁平的石头。”他听到尼克说：“酷！”

“女孩的话，是用粉色和紫色的绳子编织而成的，配上了一枚小贝壳。”

“好喜欢啊！”安布尔大叫。其他几个女孩也拼命地点头。

克里斯突然感觉有了希望。“我給每人都做了发带。”他说。

全班都兴奋地议论起来。克里斯咧开嘴笑了。现在总算感觉对了！