It was the night before my election. I was running for Sophomore Vice President.
I had prepared a performance for the election—a funny boxing match. The fight had popular moves as seen in Dodge Ball, Iron Man, and Super Smash Brothers. In the end, I would perform my famous move, the Power-Punch from Hot Rod.
My friend Cheyenne and I rehearsed(排练) the fight for hours, but the fight would not be a fight without music and sound effects. This was where my brother came in. He stayed up all night to work on that soundtrack. And when my computer's disk burner(刻录机) went out at 6 in the morning, he spent a college student's week's worth of incomes to replace it.
Why would he go into all that trouble? Because he knew that out of all the other important things he could be doing, this was imperative to me. He knew because it was once important to him. Having graduated from Layton High just a year earlier, he knew what it was like to be in the centre of people's attention. He knew how fun high school could be, and he wanted me to have a great experience.
I ended up losing the election, but that day changed my world forever. The lesson my brother taught me became my most important belief. But it wasn't until I had a similar opportunity that I really understood why he cared so much. What did it take for me to understand? It was the performance. The rest of the cast and I would rehearse every day after school for 6 months all for what? The chance to perform a play eight times. As I came out on that stage for the first time and listened to the laughter, I was filled with joy. By the end of the play, the audience broke into tears, and so did we. What happened? We had the sweet opportunity of giving them an unforgettable theatre moment—a moment to laugh, reflect, and shed tears.
