Just for Teenagers

Fortunes^R6

Vickie Vainionpaa

I peered into the cavern of my fortune cookie through an unsealed opening. I could see a thin slip of paper inside that was waiting for me to crack it free. I broke open the shell, carefully pulled out the paper so as not to tear it, and my excitement mounted. My future was held in the very ink of this Chinese fortune. I directed my focus to the miniscule Times New Roman lettering.

It read: "Write your own fortune" followed by a line of fine print: "Visit us at www.wontoncookies.com!"

After staring at the delicate strip of paper for a good amount of time, somewhat disappointed by its lack of philosophical weight, I concluded that this must have been a prank cookie, and looked in the paper bag to see if the restaurant had given us an extra. No luck; my fortune was a dud. Apparently the Chinese Gods considered me completely unworthy of receiving a proper fortune. I glanced over at my sister's cream-colored slip, which read: "Now is the time to ask for a raise."

If only I had not so unfortunately reached for the cookie that was cracked open on my plate, if only I had known that there was a raise at stake!

My sister didn't even have a job. She didn't actually need to work either, unlike me; the things I spent all my money on—primarily clothes and make-up—she had no need for. Why would she buy her own sixty-dollar skirt, when she could just stretch, stain, and rip mine?

But enough complaining. Although I could unquestionably write an entire novel about my havoc-wreaking sister, this is not the time.

A few days after throwing my useless fortune in the trashcan, a special day came along. August twelfth, my six-month anniversary with Jon. I had been hinting at everything, from jewelry to chocolate. He was two years my senior, and worked full time at a construction company that dished out reasonable paychecks. Every time I brought up my birthday he would respond, "Don't worry, I got you something awesome."

Reassuring.

When the day finally rolled around, I woke up to my phone buzzing next to my bed. I answered in a groggy voice, and was greeted by an unusually perky boyfriend.

"Morning! Get dressed and come outside. I have a surprise!"

First thought that entered my mind was: "Good Lord, he's up at 10 a.m.!"

Second thought: "Wow, I've been seeing the same guy for six months!"

And lastly: "A surprise! Maybe he bought me roses, and a necklace!"

I threw off my covers and rushed to get ready. After quickly tossing on jeans and a stretched-out sweater (thank you, sister), I wove my wild hair into a neat French braid. Hardly able to contain myself, I flew out the front door.

Now, this is the part that will surprise you, and quite honestly surprised me too. Once I had managed to get out of my house somewhat decent looking, I laid eyes on my boyfriend. My gaze then trailed down to what he was holding. No, not flowers, or a stuffed animal. It was a helmet. This may seem extremely anticlimactic, but this helmet was not just any helmet—I knew very well what this helmet was for. It was a helmet crafted for riding the most dangerous machines on earth, a helmet that I had hoped would never touch my head, a helmet for people who were gutsy, courageous, brave  ... all the things that I was not.

"Never in a million years will you get me on the back of that thing," I had once said to Jon. "Never in my life will I ride a motorcycle."

I suppose I am either horrible at making promises to myself, or horrible at keeping them, because I did end up riding that giant, black and yellow two-wheeled monster.

Once I got past the terrifying death rates, I learned to enjoy biking. Racing the wind and being blinded by the passion of speed was somewhat satisfying. I learned that trying new things, however scary or completely ludicrous they might sound, isn't nearly as bad as never trying them at all. If I had never pulled that helmet over my head, where would I be today? Most likely still a frightened sixteen-year-old girl who would never drive anything but her father's Toyota.

I wrote my own fortune that day by seizing an opportunity that may never have come again. And you know what? I don't regret it. Perhaps my fortune should have read: "You will ride a motorcycle, and love it," but somehow I don't think I would've listened. I realize now that I had been given a meaningful fortune cookie after all. The choices we make define our lives, and give us the power to write our own fortunes.

(831 words)