"Bang!" That was the declaration made when the glass bottle of soda was pried open. It was as crisp as someone who rang the bell of youth in the alley in the afternoon. The bubbles are churning in the bottle, as if they can't wait to rush out and tell a story. That voice was a little rebellious and a little expectant, like the secret hidden in every young man's heart. It bubbled up and couldn't be hidden. As a kid, I always thought that "bang" was a magic spell that could turn an ordinary afternoon into an adventure. As soon as the soda bottle was opened, the sun seemed to get a little brighter, the air was filled with a sweet fruity aroma, and even the man next door sang more energetically on the radio.

Soda is not just a drink, it is the standard of youth and the switch of memory. Have you ever tried to open a bottle of soda one afternoon, and the "bang" sound suddenly brought you back to a certain scene? Maybe it's the sweaty summer days on the playground, maybe it's the lazy evenings on the balcony, maybe it's the secretly spreading of drinks in the classroom during recess. Those pictures, with the taste of soda, are so sweet that they make you want to laugh and sigh. Come on, follow me, unscrew three bottles of soda, walk into three scenes, and listen to how youth bubbles up.

Campus recess: Soda is a stolen little blessing

Let’s talk about campus first, that’s the home of soda. In junior high school, ten minutes between classes was more precious than gold. As soon as the bell rang, the classroom was like an explosion. The boys rushed to the canteen, while the girls gossiped in their seats and took a sip of the soda they smuggled from home. At that time, most of the sodas were in glass bottles, which were heavy and felt solid in the hand. I remember that my deskmate, the chubby boy, was particularly good at making little moves under the teacher's nose. He once took out a bottle of orange soda from his schoolbag, stuffed it mysteriously under the desk, and winked at me: "Hey, do you dare to take a sip?"

Dare, of course I dare! That is a required course for youth! We both acted like thieves, lowering our heads and pretending to flip through the book, but in fact we put the straw into the bottle and took turns drinking. The bubbles of the soda exploded on the tip of the tongue, a bit sweet and a bit cold, like a small victory of sneaking into the restricted area. At that moment, the math teacher's chalk squeaked on the blackboard, the cicadas outside the window were chirping happily, and the two of us, immersed in the sweet conspiracy of soda, felt like we were simply 007.

One time, Fatty got too carried away and drank too much. The soda choked him and made him cough and almost knock over the bottle. The teacher turned around and looked at me like a searchlight. I quickly stuffed the bottle into the drawer and pretended to be innocent. As a result, the little fat boy was rude and said with a blushing face: "I... my throat is itchy!" The whole class burst into laughter. The teacher shook his head helplessly, probably thinking: What are these little bastards up to? At that moment, soda was not only a drink, but also our little declaration of rebellion, proving that we could steal a little bit of our own happiness between textbooks and exams.

Balcony dusk: soda is time that slows down

Besides, the balcony is a suitable place for soda drinks. When I was in high school, my family lived on the fourth floor of an old building. The balcony was small and crowded with flowers and plants raised by my mother, as well as school uniforms dangling on the clothes rail. Every weekend at dusk, I like to move a chair, sit on the balcony, open a bottle of soda, and watch the sky dyed orange-red by the setting sun. At that time, soda was like a pause button for me, which could slow down time, even if it was only for ten minutes.

I remember one evening, I had just failed the midterm exam, and my mood was as heavy as a dark cloud. My parents were not at home, so I sat alone on the balcony, unscrewing a bottle of Lemon soda. That "bang" sound was like a hole in the suffocation in my heart. The bubbles danced in the cup, and the sweet and sour taste of lemon penetrated my nose. I took a big sip, and the coolness made me sober. The aunt at the canteen downstairs was shouting: "Watermelons are cheap!" The kids next door were chasing the fat cat in the yard, and the smell of someone's cooking wafted over in the distance. At that moment, I suddenly felt that exams are nothing, isn’t life just this bottle of soda? A little sour, a little sweet, it goes away as you drink it.

Sometimes, I would invite my best friend Azhe to come to the balcony to drink soda. While we were chewing on our homework, we used soda bottles as microphones, pretending to be Shake stars, and shouted a few off-key songs at the top of our lungs. Azhe loved lychee-flavored soda the most. After drinking it, he insisted on burping loudly and said proudly: "This is manly!" I laughed so hard that I almost spit out the soda and scolded him: "You are a stinky lychee-flavored soda!" In those evenings, soda accompanied us from homework to dreams, from girls we liked to the end of the universe. The bottle is empty and the night is getting darker, but the sweetness seems to remain on the balcony forever.

Basketball Court: Soda is the trophy after sweat

Finally, let’s talk about the basketball court, which is the stage where soda drinks shine the brightest. In my third year of junior high school, I became obsessed with playing basketball. Although my skills were as bad as a joke, every time I made a shot, I felt like I was Joe Jordan. In the summer, the stadium is as hot as a steamer. After running a few laps, my T-shirt is so wet that I can squeeze water out of it. As soon as the game ended, everyone rushed to the stalls on the sidelines to buy soda. At that moment, the "bang" sound of unscrewing the bottle cap was more exciting than the cheers of scoring a goal.

I remember once playing a game with the class next door. Our class lost miserably and everyone was dejected. The captain, Lao Wang, was not convinced. He took out a box of soda from his bag and said proudly: "So what if you lose? Let's drink and fight again!" He distributed the bottles to everyone. As soon as the ice-cold soda was taken into the mouth, the bubbles exploded in the mouth like fireworks, and the coldness spread from the throat to the soles of the feet. We sat on the edge of the court, drinking soda, complaining about each other's "cheap tactics", and bragging that we would defeat them next time. The sweetness of soda mixed with the salty taste of sweat is strangely harmonious, as if telling us: Youth, if you lose, you lose. If you drink soda, you can come back again.

Another time, I challenged Lao Wang to a bottle of soda. I was so lucky that day that I made three goals, which made Lao Wang so angry that he shouted: "You kid is cheating!" In the end, he obediently went to buy a bottle of grape-flavored soda, and pretended to be disdainful when he threw it to me: "Drink it, you're welcome." I unscrewed the cap of the bottle, raised my head and took a big gulp. The bubbles shone in the setting sun, as if they were gilding my little victory. That bottle of soda is more precious than any trophy.

Soda is still bubbling, youth never ends

The wonderful thing about soda is that it always evokes something. The excitement of secretly drinking on campus, the comfort of lazing on the balcony, the joy of sweating on the court, every bottle of soda is like a small time capsule, containing those moments that can never be taken back. Unscrew the bottle cap and bubbles pop up, as if youth is whispering: "Hey, don't forget how silly you laughed and how vigorous you were back then."

Now that I have grown up, there are more coffee and mineral water on the table, but occasionally I pass by the canteen and see those glass bottles of soda on the shelf. I will still stop, buy a bottle, unscrew the cap, and listen to the familiar "bang" sound. At that moment, time seemed to go backwards, and I became the boy who was snickering under the desk, the stupid young man blowing the evening breeze on the balcony, and the stubborn boy shouting "One more game" on the court. The taste of the soda has not changed, the bubbles are still dancing, and the shadow of youth is still bubbling secretly in a corner.

So, next time you pass by a concession stand, grab a bottle of soda, unscrew it, and listen to the "bang" sound. Maybe, you will also hear your own youth, grunting to say hello to you.