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Striving for happiness. I am part of all I have met.pdf
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Being a teenage mother is not easy. Some pregnant teenage girls decide to have an abortion or give their babies up for adoption. However, some decide to go all the way as 16-year-old Jane Taylor who tells her story:

"Before I got pregnant 1 hated school, concentrating on my social life instead. Every night I would go out drinking and clubbing. Since the birth of my son, Tom, my life has changed. I have realised that having a baby means a lot of responsibility and I now want to do well at school and maybe go to college or university afterwards. However, it is not easy to do with a baby."

Although all's well that ends well, as in Jane's story, isn’t having a baby at an early age a too high price to pay for learning to be responsible and mature? Is it wrong to have an abortion? There are no right or wrong answers to these questions, so you need to find the answers yourself - what do you think?

Drug Abuse

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The Last Phone Call

After Tracy Barnes

"Thank goodness it's Friday and there's a bank holiday weekend coming up", Jim thought to himself as he put the receiver back onto the green phone. He'd never liked green. It was his most hated colour, and here he was in an office surrounded by green furniture, green curtains, green carpets and even a green phone. He looked at the phone with hatred. For two weeks now he'd had so many hoax calls that he'd lost count. The calls were from school kids with nothing better to do. The kids would ring him up and report thefts and arson and all sorts of things that they'd claim they'd done but that really only happened in their vivid imaginations. Jim was so used to the calls by now that he took them with a pinch of salt. This last one, had stirred him slightly though. He'd never had a call about drugs before. But he and his men had put so much time and effort into these "fake" phone calls that he quickly dismissed this latest one as being the same as the others.

Thinking of school kids turned Jim's mind to his eldest daughter, Hayley. She was fifteen and so rebellious that he sometimes wondered if she was his daughter at all. He did so much for her, gave her everything, and he got absolutely nothing in return. Jim just couldn't fathom it at all. His other children were completely different. They were good and obedient and never in trouble but Hayley: she was so... so... He couldn't explain the feeling he had. Anyway, he'd got a trip to the sea lined up for them this weekend as a surprise. The change of scenery would do them all good, especially Hayley.

***

The distant ringing of a telephone woke Jim from his deep sleep. He fumbled for the receiver and placed it to his ear.

"An awful fire ...," he heard, his colleague say,"... group of kids ... four dead ... using drugs..."

The words rang in Jim's head. He leaped out of bed and got dressed. Before leaving the house he decided to check on the children to see that the telephone had not disturbed them. Jim crept down the hall, slowly opening each door one by one. When he came to Hayley's door it was already open. He pushed it a bit further. The bed was empty. Hayley was nowhere in sight. Where could she have gone at this time of night, and why? What a night this was turning out to be.

Committing Suicide

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The Word I Hate

A few years ago, my life changed completely. From that time on, 1 simply could not live in the way I had done before.

I had a friend, a real friend. We were in the same grade. We used to go to parties. We both laughed a lot and had scads of tacos and pizzas. We almost simultaneously picked up boyfriends. And those bastards walked out on us. I didn't grieve much about it, but with my friend Jane it was different. She began to swallow heaps of worry-obliterating dope. I could do nothing about it. She simply wouldn't listen. Then the depression came. I understand it now, but back then I didn't know what it was all about.

Jane didn’t wanna go to school 'cos she hated the very idea of seeing that snobbish ex-boyfriend of hers. She didn't wanna go out. She simply stopped living.

That lousy ex-boyfriend of hers must've been blind. He was nothing special at all. Why she'd picked him up I have never been able to understand. He wore smart rags, an icy watch and changed his trainers every two weeks. But I heard he smoked weed and I told Jane about it. "I don't give a damn," was her answer.

It was then that she shared her secret plan with me. Jane's dad was in no less depression than herself. He cared about her a lot. Jane was not only cute but brainy too: one of the smartest in our class.

She kept everything secret, though, which only added to her dad's grief. Anyway, one day she said she was going to end her life. First I thought she was kidding but she was quite serious and determined.

"I'm going to slice them." She showed me her wrists. "It's better than pills or throwing yourself under a truck." There was a moment's silence after which she said, "I'll do it my own way. I know how. I read it in a story. Could you let me do it in your apartment? My parents are always in and yours like to go out almost every night."

I didn't know what to say. Frankly, I was tom between fear and morbid curiosity. I saw it as a game or as a movie. I didn't believe she could do it. Suicide. The word stuck in my mind ever since Jane told me of her plan. I knew my parents were going to their friends' place for the weekend. So that decided it. "OK," I said. "Come over to my place. But I must see the whole thing."

She looked at me suspiciously. "You aren't gonna let me down and dial 911, are you?" "Noway, I promise," I replied.

The rest was just dim snapshots: my empty apartment, the warm bath, the razor blade, the blood, and then blackness. I fainted. I couldn't stand the sight of blood streaming down her suddenly white hand.

When I came to, I found myself on a couch in the sitting room. Nearby, a woman was bandaging Jane's hand. Thank God, my elder brother Harry came back home earlier than usual and saw both of us half-dead in the bathroom.

Why am I telling you all this? I don’t know. Maybe it's a way of getting release. One thing is for sure: I hate the word suicide. I know I do.

Scads - many

Taco - a Mexican dish

Smart rags - (slang) fashionable clothes An icy watch - a watch with diamonds I don’t give a damn - 1 don’t care

To be kidding - to be joking

To come to - to regain consciousness