【小故事】学会感恩小故事：同学借我的那支笔

考试那天，同桌借我一支笔

那天上午第二节课，数学考试。老师抱着卷子走进教室，我伸手去拿文具盒，手在书包里摸了个空。我心里咯噔一下，又把书包从前往后翻了一遍：拉链袋、侧袋、连平时从来不用的那个小口袋都翻了，别说笔，连一点铅笔屑都没有。我这才想起来，文具盒昨天就放在书桌上，走的时候忘收了。

我越找越急，耳朵都热了。前面同学的后脑勺一动不动，卷子第一页的大题我一个字也没写。我心里盘算：要是跟老师说没带笔，老师会不会让我去办公室拿？可办公室在三楼，来回要爬两层楼，考试时间就全没了。

就在这时候，同桌林小雨看见了。她没举手，也没转头，只是把自己那支蓝色的笔轻轻推到我卷子边上，小声说：你先借我的用。又说：我这支笔尖细，你写慢一点，别把字写坏了。

我接过笔，手心里全是汗。笔上还带着她手心的温度。我深吸一口气，开始答题。那支笔很好写，字出得又细又整齐。我一边写一边想，以后我一定要天天检查文具盒，可当时我心里最想的还是：考完一定要好好谢谢林小雨。

考试结束铃响了，我答完了最后一题。交完卷子，我把笔放回她的文具盒，笔帽按得紧紧的，生怕弄丢一点。想了想，我又从本子上撕下一条格子纸，写了一行字：谢谢你借我笔。落款写上我的名字，夹在笔里。

第二天一早，我还特意走到林小雨桌前，正式地说：昨天谢谢你，真的谢谢。她说：不客气，以后忘带笔随时找我借。她翻开文具盒，看见那张纸条，念出声来：谢谢你借我笔。念完抬头看我，眼睛弯弯的。

从那以后，我的文具盒里总是多放一支笔。因为我知道，忘带笔的时候，心里有多着急。多备一支笔，说不定哪天就能帮到别人。

The Day My Seatmate Lent Me a Pen

In the second class that morning we had a math test. The teacher walked in holding the papers, and I reached into my schoolbag for my pencil case. My hand touched nothing but air. My heart dropped. I turned the bag over from front to back: the zip pocket, the side pocket, even the little pocket I never used. No pen, not even a shaving of pencil. Then I remembered: the pencil case had been sitting on my desk at home, and I forgot to put it away.

The more I searched, the more anxious I got, and my ears turned hot. The back of the head in front of me did not move at all, and I had not written a single word of the first big question. I kept turning it over in my mind: if I told the teacher I had no pen, would she send me to the office to fetch one? But the office was on the third floor, and a round trip would cost two flights of stairs and all my exam time.

Just then my seatmate, Lin Xiaoyu, noticed. She did not raise her hand and did not turn her head. She only pushed her blue pen lightly to the edge of my paper and whispered, Use mine first. Then she added, The tip of this pen is fine, so write slowly and do not spoil your handwriting.

I took the pen. My palm was all sweat. The pen still carried the warmth of her hand. I took a deep breath and began to answer. The pen wrote beautifully, the letters thin and neat. While I wrote, one thought kept coming back: after the test I must thank Lin Xiaoyu properly.

The bell rang at the end of the test, and I finished the last question. After handing in the paper, I put the pen back into her pencil case and pressed the cap on tightly, afraid to lose even a piece of it. Then I tore a strip of paper from my notebook and wrote one line: thank you for lending me your pen. I signed my name and tucked the note into the pen.

Early the next morning I walked to her desk on purpose and said, formally: thank you for yesterday, really thank you. She said, You are welcome. Whenever you forget a pen, just ask me. She opened the pencil case, saw the note, and read it out loud: thank you for lending me your pen. Then she looked up at me, her eyes curved like smiles.

From then on, my pencil case always holds one extra pen. I know how frantic a person feels when the pen is missing. One spare pen might be the one that helps somebody else.

我把笔递给同桌的那一秒

我是林小雨。数学考试那天，卷子刚发下来，我听见旁边的动静不对劲。同桌的手在书包里翻，越翻越快，拉链袋被他扯得哗啦响。我偷偷瞄了一眼：他的脸红到耳朵根，额头上都出了汗。

我心里一开始还有点幸灾乐祸：谁让他平时丢三落四，上学期他还借过我的橡皮没还呢。可是我看见他盯着卷子，握紧拳头，指节都白了，一点不像平时那个爱笑的人。我想起上学期我忘带尺子，急得快哭了，是他把尺子掰过来放在我桌上，什么也没说。

我把自己的蓝笔推到他卷子边上，小声说：你先借我的用。他猛地转头看我，那个眼神我这辈子都忘不了，像快渴死了忽然递过来一杯水。我又补了一句：我这支笔尖细，你写慢一点，别把字写坏了。其实我是怕他光顾着急，字写得乱七八糟，卷面分扣了更亏。

考试那四十分钟，他写得特别认真。我余光看见他用我的笔把每一道大题都写满了，字比平时还整齐。我心里想，哼，我的笔就是好用。

交完卷子，他把笔放回我的文具盒，按得紧紧的。我打开一看，笔里夹着一张撕下来的格子纸条，上面写着：谢谢你借我笔。后面还签了他的名字，字写得大大的，像怕我看不见。

第二天他走到我桌前，站得笔直，正式跟我说谢谢。我嘴上说不客气，心里乐开了花。妈妈问我那天考得怎么样，我说数学考得一般，但是做了一件特别棒的事。我把借笔的事讲给妈妈听，妈妈笑了：帮助别人，自己心里是不是更暖？我点点头。

后来我的文具盒里多了一支备用笔，他的文具盒里也多了一支。我们俩约好了：谁忘带了，就借谁的。老师说同学之间要互相帮助，我以前觉得这话很大，现在明白了，帮助就是考试时递过去的一支笔，一秒的事，能让人记好久。

The Second I Handed My Pen Across the Desk

I am Lin Xiaoyu. On the day of the math test, right after the papers came out, I heard something wrong beside me. My seatmate was digging through his schoolbag, faster and faster, yanking the zipper pocket so it clattered. I stole a glance: his face was red all the way to the roots of his ears, and his forehead had broken out in sweat.

At first a small mean thought crossed my mind: serves him right for always forgetting things, and last term he borrowed my eraser and never gave it back. But then I saw him staring at the paper with his fists clenched, his knuckles white, nothing like the smiling boy I know. I remembered last term when I forgot my ruler and nearly cried, and he was the one who slid his ruler onto my desk without saying a word.

I pushed my blue pen to the edge of his paper and whispered, Use mine first. He whipped his head around to look at me, and I will never forget that look, like someone dying of thirst suddenly being handed a cup of water. I added, The tip of this pen is fine, so write slowly and do not spoil your handwriting. Really I was afraid he would be so flustered that his writing would turn messy and he would lose marks for neatness.

During those forty minutes he wrote with great care. From the corner of my eye I saw him fill every big question with my pen, his letters even neater than usual. I thought to myself, hmph, my pen really works well.

After he handed in the paper, he put the pen back into my pencil case and pressed it shut tightly. When I opened it, I found a strip of grid paper tucked inside the pen. It read: thank you for lending me your pen. He had signed his name, written big, as if afraid I would not see it.

The next day he came to my desk, standing straight as a board, and thanked me formally. My mouth said you are welcome, but my heart was dancing. Mom asked how the test went. I said math was so-so, but I did something wonderful. I told her the pen story, and she laughed: helping others makes your own heart warmer, does it not. I nodded.

Later, my pencil case gained a spare pen, and his did too. We made a deal: whoever forgets one borrows from the other. Our teacher says classmates should help each other. I used to think those words were big. Now I understand: help is a pen handed across the desk during a test, one second of it, and it can be remembered for a long time.