After the compose button was dropped,

Without buttons to hide my troubles, you wouldn't know how obsessed I was with buttons when I was a child. I have a button in my hand, thin and light, dyed with rainbow-like lines and smooth as agate. Hold it in your hand, there will be a pity-like weakness. I like to peek through the buttonhole, from the slogan on the classroom platform to the blackboard eraser, down, and finally, on her long hair that spreads like a black waterfall. This button is hers. But I didn't intend to give it back to her at all. I didn't take part in the summer school sports meeting, and I wandered outside the stadium like a night watchman. Fear of loss is one thing. I don't have to give up on myself when my academic performance is low and I am frequently ridiculed on weekdays. Most importantly, I grew up weak, tall and thin. If I put on an athlete's vest and shorts, I look like a hemp pole in the wind. The game is in full swing and people are crowded. Several senior athletes passed me with javelins and only heard a "stab". My white shirt was cut, and the buttons on my chest drew a beautiful arc like a manic javelin and disappeared. But they left a contemptuous look and walked away. Looking at their developed triceps, I didn't dare to say anything. I can feel the eyes coming from all directions, my angular "ribs" are clearly visible, and my scraped shirt is swaying in the wind, losing no time, like a white flag. Most importantly, I saw her from the playground-our study committee member, the famous beauty queen of the whole school. Her voice is sweet and crisp, like a wind chime swaying slightly in the morning, and like a nightingale singing quietly in the night. When reading in the morning, the whole class will calm down and listen to her recitation. There is a clear ocean of the moon in her eyes. If you are not careful, you will fall in. I could feel her approaching, but I pretended not to see her and whistled casually. The reserve and detachment of a teenager is so indescribable. "I have buttons here. I'll give you one. " The crisp wind chimes were swaying in my ears, and my whistle fell to the ground like absorbent cotton, dispersed and fell silent again. She gently lifted the corner of the skirt and unbuttoned it for me. Some brand-name clothes often have spare buttons on the back of the lower hem. I don't remember how I took the button. I usually peep at her beauty in the dark, but I dare not face her eyes at this time. I just think the world is quiet, and a deer hit my chest. She also said, "Why don't you take part in the competition? In fact, you are also very good, as long as you work hard ... "I was as flustered as a child learning English in kindergarten, muttering," Thank you ... I will return your button ... "Later, I kept thinking about her words-you are also very good. What's good about me? Is she implying something? Did I appear in her green dream? Does she have a crush on me? In a word, encouraged, I immediately signed up for the next day's long-distance running, and I stumbled to the finish line, because I felt that she was watching me in a corner outside the stadium, watching me fall to the ground tired and frustrated, just like the gorgeous button I nailed to my shirt. I firmly believe that the button with her spirituality and body temperature has brought me inexplicable confidence and courage. I have been weak and taciturn, and began to answer the teacher's questions boldly, and my thinking has become more flexible than ever. What surprised me most was that she took the initiative to help me with my lessons and made a "written promise" in front of the teacher to form a "pair" with me. I am ecstatic, so blessed arrival, how can I not try my best? With her help, my academic performance jumped to the top 20 in my class. When the teacher announced the results, I really felt the exclamation of the whole class, as well as her smile and eyes. I decided to break my word and never give that button back to her again. So, I put it in a locked iron box like a gem, and there were poems I wrote to her in the box: light blue stationery, soft as a dream. I carry the box with me in my schoolbag to make sure that it is always in my sight and will not be lost. Just as I was about to give those poems to her, I lost the box, or confiscated it. I just locked my buttons in the box during the self-study class that day. Suddenly a big hand reached out and took the box away. In anger, I really wanted to open my mouth and bite those hateful big hands, but when I looked up, it turned out to be the class teacher and I had to give up. However, how can a pure heart give up! I had many "negotiations" with the class teacher in his office, and the class teacher who is familiar with the context of youth did the work step by step. Finally, I had to agree to his condition: sprint to the top 20 of the college entrance examination, otherwise, give the box to my parents or never return it! With this sadness, I got up at once. In the hot July, the class teacher smiled and handed me an admission notice, as well as the iron box containing secrets. I was dumbfounded when I opened the box with ecstasy. There is blue writing paper in the box, and the button hiding my heart is missing. Obviously, I locked it myself. Besides, there is no need for the head teacher to make such a joke with me. I rummaged frantically for countless times, and finally had to accept the fact that the button was really missing! She was admitted to a university in the north, thousands of miles away from me. It rained on the day of the school banquet, as if my heart was sour. When I left, I walked her to the door, knowing that I might never get another chance. I gnashed my teeth and said incoherently, "The button you gave me at the school sports meeting … was later … lost, and the next day I signed up for the long-distance race. What I want to say is ... I ..... "I like the words you just came to my mouth, and she interrupted me with a smile:" What button? I don't like long-distance running. I can't understand what you are saying. " She put on her raincoat, zipped it with a whoosh and waved to me: "Goodbye!" " Three months later, I received a short message from her at the university: "The class teacher told me that the happiest thing for a person is that the people he helped have also succeeded. He has always said that you have potential to tap, and asked me to take time to tutor you. It seems that he is right. He also said that the value of youth should be to help everyone in need with enthusiasm and sincerity ... May youth be priceless and friendship last forever! " Youth has a green coat, as if on that day, it zipped with a whoosh, and the wind and smoke were clean. Since then, I have never seen her again, and the button that was lost for no reason has been embedded in the heart of the once weak and inferior teenager.