How To Talk To Teens About Peer Pressure?

Ivy Young is a final-year student whose only goal is to study hard, earn top grades, and secure a scholarship to college. Her life is carefully planned, and everything is going exactly the way she wants until she crosses paths with the school’s bad boy, Romeo Sparks. Everything changes the night she attends a party and ends up in a game of Truth or Dare with him. The challenge is cruel and impossible to ignore: let Romeo take her first kiss or agree to date him for a whole month. He is the school playboy. She is just a school nerd. He is dangerous. He is reckless. And he's too bad for Ivy.

Jeremy's high school has always been a nightmare because of the school's heartthrob, Steve, who never missed a chance to bully him. But things take a surprising turn when Steve unexpectedly falls head over heels in love with Jeremy. The twist? Steve's younger brother has had a crush on Jeremy since childhood. Now, both brothers are in love with Jeremy, and a complicated love triangle is in the making. Who will Jeremy choose; the bully or his best friend? The stakes are high, and the drama is intense. *** "I love you, Jer." Steve said, coming uncomfortably close to me. "I wanna hug you and tell everyone you are mine," he whispered in my ear. "I am not yours. I hate you so much, Steve, and I'll make sure to take revenge on you for bullying me and torturing me." I turned away from him, determined to stand up for myself and put an end to his harassment.

Two individuals with different stories, different emotions and different problems... They meet in a high school, one as a student, the other as an intern... How can they balance their views?

My 20-year-old daughter was obese. She started gaining weight in middle school, and now she weighed 200 pounds. I worried about her health, so I prepared nutritious meals for her and encouraged her to exercise every day, but she didn't take the problem seriously. "I was born weighing 7 pounds. It's your fault for making me so fat when I was in your womb." For eight years, every time I urged her to lose weight, that was her reply. Just as I was losing hope and considering giving up, I received a FaceTime call from my daughter 10 years in the future. "Mom! Please help me one more time!" My daughter cried on the phone. "I now weigh 500 pounds. I can't even leave home, and I struggle to breathe every day. I feel so miserable!" My heart softened, and I spent $30,000 to send my daughter to a weight loss camp. However, in the camp, my daughter indulged herself and even started a food vlogging channel. "Eat as much as you want, drink as much as you want. Don't take life so seriously. We only have about 80 years to live, so enjoy your food!" I was completely disappointed and chose to respect her decision. My daughter from ten years later cried hysterically on the phone. "The doctor said I don't have long to live! Please stop feeding me!" But this time, the FaceTime call was made to my daughter's phone.

Contains strong language: My parents died, my sister died, my brothers left, and I was left to a man who thought we were pawns in his play. You know the type of people who say "it gets better" they're lying to you, because it just keeps getting worse. How the hell did I end up in a gang? Well, this is that story

My mom is terrified of being laughed at by others the most. Whenever the holidays are here, she will keep repeating one sentence to me—"Don't go around embarrassing me." When my relatives gather around and chat with each other, I accidentally knock a fruit platter over. Mom drags me over and slaps me on the spot. At the holiday feast, I grab extra pieces of steak for myself. Mom responds by kicking my chair over. When it's time for the holiday gifts to be distributed, my aunt, Gabriella Hall, has miscalculated the number of children present among the family. So, she has prepared one less gift for the occasion. Mom doesn't hesitate to kick me out of the apartment, leaving me shivering in the cold corridor in just my indoor clothes. The icy winds chill me to the bone. I keep slamming my palms on the front door while screaming and crying my apologies at Mom, and yet she remains unmoved and silent. Instead, she turns to face Aunt Gabriella with an apologetic smile on her face. "I'm really sorry. I didn't raise my daughter well. It's only fair that you ridicule me." What Mom doesn't know is that I get triggered whenever I hear the word "ridicule" thanks to her so-called parenting lessons. Whenever I hear that word, I want nothing more than to hurt myself uncontrollably. So when I hear the word "ridicule" coming out of Mom's mouth through the front door, I turn on my heel quietly and begin making my way toward the bridge next to the neighborhood that's plunged into darkness. The moment I jump from the bridge, the only thought I have is, "Mom, no one will ridicule you because of me this time."