Class of 2024 Short Stories

Walking down the bustling streets of Madrid, the steam erupting from manhole covers, the crisp breeze of an early spring morning, and the smell of dirty clothes paired with the strong body odor drifting downwind from the bums parked in the corner. Unbothered, they don’t care, ugh how can you live like that. If I was homeless I wouldn’t dare set foot on the sidewalk with the general public. I hold my breath as I walk through the horrible stench, trying not to gag as each slow, excruciating second goes by. I cross the street using the zebra striped path as usual. 

I’m halfway to the other side, when suddenly, I hear the squeal of tires, and out of the left corner of my eye, I see a gray SUV hurling toward me. It stops right before me, life flashing before my eyes, I curse the driver out; my face is burning up, and I’m fighting tears. “Podrías haberme matado idiota!” I yell, charging at the driver who is rushing to check if I’m okay. 

I calm down, apologize, and move on with the rest of my day. The bums start laughing at my “overreaction.” 

“Ignoro esos pedazos de basura inútiles que sólo hacen que esta ciudad esté más sucia de lo necesario.” A woman in a rush says to me.

“Si, tienes razón.” I shoot back.

The next day I’m dashing to work, passing by the bums as usual, but this time, one of them comes up to me. He appears to be the leader, tall, burly, and intimidating; wearing a buffalo plaid sweater with chocolate-like splotches all over, with a ripped, faded denim vest on top. His face, cratered like the moon, and a beard with bits of gunk in it. His teeth had a sharp lemony tint to them. He needed a piece of chewing gum. “No vengas por esta cuadra, porque si lo haces, no volverás a caminar por ninguna calle.”

I want to say something back, but I knew if I did, I would be turned to dust by them. From that day on, I never went through that route again. I might be paranoid, but I don't want any trouble from those already troubled individuals. I’ve avoided them at all costs, even if that means taking a route that would take twice as much time. It didn’t matter to me, I didn’t care about being late to work, I couldn’t stand homeless people. I might have been killed that day, but I was fine and that’s all that mattered. For all I know those bums could have died in a hole, and I couldn’t care less.

A few days later, I spoke to my colleague, María who was also one of my best friends. I told her about what had happened just a couple hours earlier. She said, “Eso es terrible!”

“¡Yo sé, verdad!” 

  “Aunque no debería pensar que todas las personas sin hogar sean así.”

¿Cómo?”

“Déjame mostrarte. En mi tiempo libre ayudo a personas sin hogar a recuperarse y quiero que conozcas a alguien.” 

I hopped into her car, and she took me to this nice neighborhood; where there were some newly built houses, probably part of a government housing association. She led me inside one of the units, and we sat down with a middle aged man, black slicked back hair, and a thick white beard. He sat in an old rocking chair with a cup of coffee in hand. A very wise man, one that has clearly been through a lot. “Hola, soy Alberto y era un vagabundo.”

“Ah, okay”, I say shyly.

“Estar sin hogar es desestabilizador, desmoralizador y deprimente. Has perdido tu base, una base desde la cual funcionar. Se vuelve difícil concentrarse. Los obstáculos constantes socavan tu autoestima y tu personalidad sana se marchita, se desintegra y se dispersa.”.

“¿Cómo le haces frente?” 

“Miré la situación de manera positiva. Relaciones desarrolladas con otras personas que pueden ayudar de alguna manera. Busqué y utilicé ayuda de recursos comunitarios y otras agencias. Dependía de oraciones y otras creencias religiosas.”

“¿Alguna vez viste a otra persona sin hogar acosar a un peatón sin aparente traición?” 

“Sí.” 

 “¿Cuáles son sus consejos para responder a algo así?” I asked him.

“Es mejor ignorarlos que hablar o defenderse porque tienen muchas cosas en la cabeza y les resulta difícil controlarlas, así que, en todo caso, no lo dicen en serio.” 

I left his house, and got a ride to my house from María. As I walked up my doorstep, I remembered the interaction I had with Alberto, as well as the one with the “leader.” I realized that like María, I too could do something to help the homeless. 

The next day, I walked out of my apartment, and stopped at the local bakery to pick up some tostados and churros from one of the most famous places in all of Spain. I went back to my original route, to where the homeless people parked themselves. This time I walked up to them with confidence and great pride. I went straight to the leader, and said “Hola, ¿cómo estás?”  

 “¿Por qué estás aquí y qué es esto?” He asked grumpily.

I handed him the bag with steam practically coming out of it, and said “Ahhhh nada, solo unos churros y tostadas.”

“¿Para mi?” He asked excitedly.

“Si.” I replied with great joy.

He got teary-eyed and asked for a hug.

“Esto es lo mejor que me ha pasado!” He exclaimed while weeping with happiness.

“Encantado de poder entregar.” I say, tearing up myself.

The desolate sable sky hung like a curtain over the houses in the town of Old Lucia. The grass was sopping wet with drops of moonlit tears and the worms wriggling through the fresh break-of-day dirt. The sun hadn't even begun to peek out from backstage. The only people  awake at this god forsaken early hour were parents, up packing their children's school lunches. Two slices of a whole wheat bread with a slab of boloney in between. Tourists, who are still jet lagged from a long journey.  Passionate business owners, ready to strut into their territory, and yell at a couple workers. Maybe even fire one or two. And lastly, there was one early morning house that was unable to place. 

The lights were always on in Belinda Langley´s windows at precisely 5:30am. The Langley home was the last home to ever get invited to any block party or any Thanksgiving dinners. The one-story home was rancid of sour cream that had been sitting out too long and reeked of raw fish. The only thing the neighbors knew about Belinda is that she lived with her dead daughter’s child. Of course, the town committee has tried to get the granddaughter moved into an orphanage to receive proper care, but the little girl didn’t want to leave. 

Little Callista Darci was perfectly content with her self-served bowls of Captain Crunch distributed with a coffee mug full of pear juice. 

Maybe they were right. Maybe her life was four walls of missed opportunities poured in concrete molds. 

But, it was in fact the little girl who would wake up at 5:30am everyday. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today, like every other day, Callista stepped out of her bed, and molded the covers into a pristine shape. She flattened the wrinkles out the bed sheets like piecing back the plucked petals from a daisy. Callista smiled, admiring her long and unkempt golden brown hair, deciding that she didn’t want to brush it out today. Or any other day. She enjoyed the free feeling of having a plight of aureate waves dangling from her head. Tousled in all different ways. She felt like a princess. Like one of the royals. Callista had to make the tough decision of what role she wanted to perform today. A pirate, exploring all seven seas with a trustworthy crew of ship helpers? A queen, surrounded by her friends at a ball? Or even a jungle explorer, sifting through the deep jungle with a lowly assistant.

Now that Callista was ready to take on her morning, she put on a pair of extra slippery socks and ran down the hallway. Crashing into the antique vases and Sweet Cherry wood end tables. Then she clung to the spiral railing and flew down, down, down. Swinging her body to the side. The sun painted the sky in hues of orange and pink, reflecting through an old ornate window, creating a kaleidoscopic backdrop as Callista soared down the stairway, feeling the cool brush of the evening breeze against her cheeks.
Callista ambled into the kitchen, passing by the sparkling countertops she meticulously cleaned before going to bed each day. They sparkled with the glare of Dawn Dish Soap. She pulled out a charcoal grey frying pan and placed two frozen waffles and waited for them to steam. She plucked a thick jar of raw honey and flattened the creamy honey over the waffle. Callista brought her china plate filled with waffles and big pools of honey and plopped herself down on the moth-eaten couch to watch a new episode of Rocky and Bullwinkle.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm worried because there have already been two attempts on your life,” Bullwinkle voiced  from the TV camouflage in the corner waiting for its long overdue retirement. Callista took a big bite out of her honey waffle and dabbed the paper napkin on her face. The show blared in the background as Callista climbed over the couch to pick a book to read today. Callista Darci spent her life folded between the pages of books. In the absence of human relationships she formed bonds with paper characters. She lived love and loss through stories threaded in history; She experienced adolescence by association. Her world is one interwoven web of words, stringing limb to limb, bone to sinew, thoughts and images all together. 

However at that precise moment, the sirens decided to scream. 

She heard heavy footsteps and deep voices whisper outside the door. However they weren’t truly whispering because Callista could hear every curse word they muttered. 

Brandon never swore. 

She frowned, directing her attention away from Little Women and ran to the door. 

While the deep voiced and heavy footed people carefully chose the vulgar language they would utter outside the Langley house, Callista swung the hatch open. 

“Shit,” The Police officer yelped. A crimson drizzled trudged down his upper lip, falling onto his shirt like a wine stained tablecloth. “Sorry, Callista.”

“I’ve heard people say that word before,” she said blankly. “Where’s my grandmother? Is she in handcuffs this time? Crying in the back of your cop car? Or could you not complete the one job you actually do in this crime-free neighborhood and now you need me to coax her out of some little boys' tree house?” Callista Darci drawled, doing anything in her power to make these men know she was the boss here. It worked every time. 

“I-in the back of the car…” The one with the bloody nose stuttered.

“Crying?” Callista asked. The cop nodded. “Where’s Brandon? He normally brings her home…”

“He got put on a case about missing sugar packets.” Callista sighed. “Brandom informed us of your…situation,”  Said the second cop, seemingly disgusted at the sight of the mangy little girl.

“Lucky. It’s quite the tall tale—”

“How old are you exactly?”

“6 and 8/7ths.” Callista crossed her arms. “And how old are you?”

“That's irrelevant.”  

“And why is my age relevant?”

“Because your grandmother is not fit to take care of you or herself,” He snarled.

“My grandmother is of sound mind and body. You police officers just can’t accept that sometimes old women like to take walks. You know? Get a little fresh air—”

“Kid, I hate to tell you this but–” Callista raised an eyebrow at him. Kid was like two shards of broken glass in between a grilled cheese sandwich.

“Your grandmother isn’t taking walks. She has…Dementia. Really bad Dementia…”

“Dementia is a loss of thinking, remembering, and reasoning skills. It is not a normal part of aging.” The bloody nosed officer jumped in.

“I know what dementia is.” She scoffed. “I also know Belinda Langley doesn’t have it.”

“Kid–”

“Don’t call me kid. Kids don’t speak how I speak. Kids don’t live the way I live. Kids don’t–”

“Have to raise themselves?” The first officer offered.

“I didn’t raise myself. My grandmother was very involved in my upbringing.” But she knew that wasn’t the truth. She knew Belinda hadn’t cooked her food once since she came to live with her. Never, not once, tucked her in or read her a bedtime story. But maybe she meant to do that. Maybe her grandmother was trying to make her strong. Resourceful. Callista took a big breath in. The air buzzed with energy. “Then explain to me why my grandmother takes these walks every morning.” The bloody nosed officer bent down and put a hand on her shoulder, making direct eye contact with the floor.

“She’s looking for Hadley.” Hadley was my mother’s name.

“Hadley is dead.” Callista gulped, she closed her eyes, taking a huge breath. Callista was nothing but novocaine. She was numb, a world of nothing, all feeling and emotion gone forever.  

“Yes. She is.” Horror ripped her eyelids open.

“So, you’re saying she–”

“She’s searching the neighborhood for her dead daughter…because she thinks Hadley just…didn’t come home from a party.” Her heart tore. All little Callista Darci could feel was the blood chugging through her neck and the iceberg heaving in her chest. Scorching sweat sprinkled down her skin. And she stood there firmly. Callista wanted to cry. She wanted to cry until there was no longer a glass disk placed directly on the middle of her raw throat, blocking the air from coming up her lips. 

Yet, she stood there. Strong. Clenching her jaw.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the police escorted Belinda Langley back into the shabby carp-smelling home. Callista wanted to scream get your hands off her. She wanted to make some sort of snappy comeback and go back to being lonely. But Callista couldn’t help but feel that something was different. This happened every morning. Why should knowing the story behind it break her strength? But is being lonely really strong? Callista guided her mother toward the house and sat her down in the kitchen.

“You know how kids are these days, always partying,” Belinda mumbled. “But I know my Hadley will make smart choices.” And suddenly, Belinda turned her head over at Callista. “You know you have her hair. Brunette waves. With golden bits ” 

I'm oxygen and she is dying to breathe. 

Callista ran her fingers through her hair, holding it as if it was a pearl necklace Belinda had just given her. She held her breath like a taut full balloon. 

“Do you know my name?” 

“No, dear.” She frowned. “Tell me,”

“Callista Darci…”  The dust storm in Callista’s stomach settled for a moment. She knew Belinda would forget by next morning, but it didn’t matter. She observed her grandmother. Long ashen curls. Round spectacles. Her face was engraved with little wrinkles. She had deep smile lines. She must have been happy. That was the first time the two really looked at each other.

Callista turned around and opened the pantry, combing through what she’d bought at the grocery store last sunday.

“Grandma? Toast or waffles?”

Hope is a pocket of possibility. And my hands are deep within it.

Ethan was in the science classroom, nervously looking down at his paper pretending to be interested in it. He had his head down on his desk, with his sweaty hands tightly clenched. “Please don’t call on me,” he thought to himself. 

The teacher, Ms. Heep, suddenly called on Ethan. She asked “What collision caused the moon to form?” 

Ethan muttered, “Theia” in a soft voice.

“I couldn’t hear you, what did you say?”

“Theia,” Ethan said a little louder.

“I’m sorry, can you say that again a little louder?

“Theia!” Ethan screamed loudly.

“Yes that’s correct Ethan. I’m glad you know that. But next time, you don’t need to scream. You can just speak a little louder.”

Ethan felt embarrassed. Everyone was staring at him and he didn’t like the attention. He wished he could run away from school. But he knew he couldn’t do that. He just wanted to be left alone. 

Ethan often felt lonely at school. The worst part of school was at lunch time, where he sat at the lunch table, not engaging with any of the other kids who sat at his table. He knew they only sat there because there wasn’t any room at other tables. He was different compared to all the other sixth graders. Everyone else had lots of friends and they were normal. Ethan was extremely smart and he always knew all the answers to every question that was asked in school.

A major reason why he was so shy is that he is two years younger than everyone else. He was smaller, shorter, and way smarter than everyone else. In fact, he was so ahead of the curriculum that he skipped third and fifth grade of elementary school. However, it’s not like he never had friends. The problem was whenever he made a friend, he skipped another grade. Ethan’s first friend, Kian, was an immature kid like Ethan. Behind Ethan’s appearance of being a nerd and weird kid, was a silly kid that loved to play and have fun. He didn’t always like to study and be a genius all of the time. He enjoyed having friends and being social. He wished people understood him better and discovered that he was nice, and that he was more than just a smart kid.

However, since he skipped a couple grades, he had to hide behind a mask, pretending he is quiet and is nothing more than a genius. The only good thing about school was his good grades. However, the classes were not challenging enough. 

Ethan was in math class and had already finished his math worksheet ten minutes ago. Ethan muttered to the teacher, “Is there anything else to do?”

“You can do the challenge work that is posted on the wall.”

“I already finished that yesterday.”

“Well you can just read your book in the meantime until the bell rings.”

 Ethan impatiently waited for the bell to ring so he could go to academic competitions where he felt most like himself. He could come out of his shell a little bit and show how smart he was. Ethan was probably the smartest kid in the school. He was smarter than all of the eight graders and maybe smarter than some teachers. Ethan hoped that he would make nationals and go to Washington DC to compete with all of the middle schoolers around the United States. He was hoping that despite his age, he would make it to nationals because of his intelligence. He was waiting for the results to come out, pondering if he made it to nationals. And then, the results came out. 

Ethan made it to nationals! Ethan couldn’t wait any longer because next week he was flying out to Washington DC to compete with all of the smart kids around the world. This was the happiest day of his life because maybe he would find someone that was like him. Maybe he would find a friend that understood him and was similar to him. Days passed as Ethan anxiously waited for the day to come. 

At last, it was the day of nationals. He was seated at a table with the kids at his school that also made it. Ethan didn’t talk to anyone and was sitting all alone. However, suddenly one of the kids asked him, “Hey aren’t you the kid that skipped two grades?”

“Umm, yeah I am.”

“Oh nice, I’m Arjun by the way.”

“I’m Ethan.”

“Yeah, I already know you. Pretty much the whole school knows about you.”

Ethan didn’t know how popular he was. He hid behind his mask, not talking to anyone except for the teachers. He didn’t really like it, but he couldn’t change it. 

Ethan asked Arjun, “What grade are you in?”

“I’m in seventh grade.”

“Nice, I’m in sixth grade.”

Arjun asked, “So what have you been up to?”

“Uh, nothing much. Just a whole lot of studying for nationals.”

“Same, I’ve been studying for months.”

“Yeah, me too. Well, hope you do good!” Ethan exclaimed.

Ever since fourth grade, Ethan never had someone that talked to him or had a conversation with him except for bullies and teachers. Arjun was the first kid in a while that actually started a conversation and was nice to him.

Shortly after speaking with Arjun, Ethan hesitantly went up to the stage and was about to compete with other middle school students. The announcer said, “Alright, it's time to start the national science bee. Best of luck to all of you! Up first is Ethan Ali and Henry Lock. The first question is, what is the primary oxygen-carrying protein found in red blood cells?”

Ethan hesitantly blurted out, “Hemoglobin.”

“That is correct! The answer is hemoglobin.” The next question is, what physical state of matter is an intermediate between a Crystalline solid and gas?”

Henry immediately blurted out, “Water!”

“That is incorrect.”

“Liquid,” Ethan said.

“That is correct!”

This went on for a bit and Ethan won almost every question. 

“Nice job in the competition,” Henry said while smiling.

“Yeah, you did good as well.”

“Thanks, hope I see you later."

Ethan could not hold back his smile. He finally broke out of his shell and went out of his comfort zone to talk to someone from his school and a random kid he didn’t know. Normally he would've been quiet or ignored them.

In the end, Ethan placed seventeenth place in the national science bee. He was extremely happy and felt accomplished by not just his academic skills, but how he made a friend. When nationals was over, and everyone went back to school, Ethan saw Arjun in the hallways. Ethan grinned with happiness and said, “Hi.” 

 “Yo come over.” 

It was a shivery November night as I just curled up in my freshly made bed. I stared at my phone. I didn’t know what to do. I know he lives just a short walk away but I didn't want to go, “Bro come over. There are so many people here it’s lit.” 

I stare again. I really didn’t want to sneak out or even get in trouble. 

11:58, 11:59, 12:00.

The clock strikes midnight and I knew I had to make my decision. I didn’t want to let my parents down but I knew what I had to do.

I jumped out of bed and threw on my comfy sweatshirt. I started sneaking downstairs but quickly checked to see if my parents were asleep. Before I could get there I felt something behind me. I spin around and there she is. My little sister staring me dead in the eyes. “Oh shoot,” I whispered to myself.

“I know what you're doing.” 

“Yeah? Then what am I doing?”

“Going to the party at Bryce’s house.”

“Izzy, don't tell anyone.” 

“You shouldn’t go, it's not gonna work out how you want it to. I'm telling you, but what do I get in return?” 

“I’ll figure that out.”

I slipped by her and ran out the door. It was a quiet, calm walk. The sound of 2 cars zipping by per minute was soothing.
As I approach the house I see someone run out the backdoor and barf all over the grass. I see Bryce run out of his house with everybody else trailing behind.  Their phone flashlights shining bright. My smile turned into a frown but I knew what I had to do.

I join the raging mosh pit as I see Bryce’s friend, Max, stand on a chair and started chugging beer. My jaw dropped. I start spinning around to see if anybody else feels the same way I do. I wanted to be in my bed. Why did I come here?

I walked off to the side then Bryce came up to me, “Yo what's wrong bro?” 

I shake my head “Nothing, I just feel bad that I snuck out and if my parents find out they're gonna be so disappointed in me.”

“Dude you're here right now, enjoy it.” I shrugged then I see a shining light in the front and my phone ding.

Get here right now-Mom.

“Oh no,” I sigh to myself.

I quietly walk out of Bryce's house and silently open the car door, “What in god's name do you think you're doing?” 

“Look im so-”

“I don’t care if you’re sorry. You are grounded.”

I'm so stupid.

------

We pull into the driveway as I see my sister's face smirking through the window.

My mom opened the door for me, “You little-”

I stop myself. I took a deep breath, and went to my room, my mom followed. 

      ------

I jump into my bed and smack a pillow against my face. Ding! Ding! Ding! I feel at least 100 texts go through my pocket. I pull out my phone as I feel my moms eyes on me. I opened snapchat and checked Bryce’s story. “Somebody got bustedddd!!!”

I stare for a long while. It was a picture of me getting into my moms car. A tear falls down my right cheek and I wipe it, “What were you thinking?” 

“I don’t know!” I screech back as more tears start falling.

“This cannot happen again. You hear me? EVER!”

She slams the door as she struts out of the room and I keep hearing the notifications rolling in. I’m not gonna look.

I can’t resist. I open my phone and I start bursting out in tears. I felt like the kid who threw up. Every single story was of me. I was devastated. I should have just listened to Izzy! 

The night that was going to be the best suddenly turned out to be the worst. 

A blaring noise comes into my ear. I pressed snooze and sunk my head back into the pillow. I didn’t want to do anything. Eventually my mom walks into my room, “Honey get up you have to go to school.” 

I groan and finally rise, “Do I have to go to school today I’m gonna get made fun of!” 

“I guess that’s your consequence,” my mom shrugs.   

-------

My bus rolls in as I sit by myself in the front. I get off first, “Thanks. Have a good day.”

I shyly walked to my advisory but nobody made fun of me. Maybe they forgot? 

The day went by and I had no issues. I ate lunch with my friends and went through the day without a worry. As the final bell rang I got on the bus. I got a text, “Yo come over tonight party at mines” 

This time I knew what I had to do, “No.”

The sunbeams danced through the window, painting the room in a gentle morning glow. The entire neighborhood was in a peaceful slumber, the sun perched lazily in the sky. Ellie’s eyes fluttered open and adjusted to the brightness that enveloped the room. The tranquility, though, was quickly halted. 

“Olga!” She yelled, “Didn’t I tell you to lay out the blue dress last night?!” 

Her loud voice cut through the morning calm. What was thought to be a promising start of the day quickly withered and all through the town, people began grumbling about being awakened so early on a Saturday. Olga was now jumping up the stairs two at a time despite her age, desperate to reach Ellie before a full blown tantrum broke out. A few moments later, Olga appeared at the door gasping for breath clutching at a stitch in her side.

 “Finally! You’re here!” Ellie huffed. She was sitting up in her bed and engrossed in a shopping website.

 “I’m incredibly sorry, Miss.” Olga breathlessly replied, “but there was work that needed to be done in the kitchen.” 

“Well, I don’t care what work needed to be done in the kitchen. I’m supposed to be your first and foremost priority! Got it?”

 There was a moment of silence in which Olga said nothing, merely gawking at Ellie in awe until she noticed Ellie’s eyes narrowing dangerously close to throwing a tantrum. 

“Yes, Miss, I understand.”

***

Ellie was sprawled on her bed, clicking furiously at a website on her computer.  Olga  stepped closer and caught a glimpse of yet another shopping website. 

Of course.

“There you are!” snapped Ellie, finally acknowledging Olga’s presence. “I need you to help me with this. I want to buy a few things, but it says that the card isn’t going through.” 

As Olga leaned over the computer, she could see that the “few things” that Ellie was referring to were 17 items. Each cost well over $1000. As Olga re-entered the password and refreshed the page, the red words remained on the page, 

“Transaction denied.”

“See what I mean?” Ellie whined, “It’s not working and I don’t know why!”

Olga quickly typed in the spare credit card’s information that Mr. and Ms. Vanderbilingoton gave her to buy groceries and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that the card had gone through, averting a potential crisis.

***

“It’s just not fair!” Ellie screamed, “Why do I have to work a job?! It’s not like we’re poor or anything!” 

A heavy silence hung in the air, stifling any attempt at conversation until Ellie’s father calmly spoke in a forced voice, “Ellie, this isn’t your choice to make. Your mother and I talked it over. You have been spending tens of thousands of dollars a month. And that has to stop. Your mother and I think a job would help you understand what normal people have to go through. So, you have to do all the chores Olga normally has to do for a week. We’ll pay you the same amount of money we pay her a week. That is to say, $1500.” 

“Are you kidding me?!” Ellie spluttered, “that’s not even enough to buy a shirt!” 

“Ellie, please. I’ve got a meeting to get to and you’re not helping at all. So, by the time I get home, I expect your room to be clean, your laundry done and the dishes washed. That’s more than enough time. Also, you’ve probably noticed that we’ve halted your credit card transactions for now, and if you don’t finish those chores, we’ll never lift it.”

Ellie stomped to her room grumbling in a loud voice about how none of this was fair, and how none of her friends had to do chores. But Ellie knew that there was nothing to be done. She picked up a sock then hurled it into the laundry basket. How does Olga do this every day?

***

Ellie sat on the floor, scrubbing vigorously at a particularly stubborn stain on her white rug. Just as she was about to spray the bottle once more, she realized that she had run out of the cleaning solution. Sighing, she got to her feet and headed for the basement for more cleaning supplies. 

But as she stepped out of the room, she bumped into someone. She glanced up, and saw that it was her parents. 

But before she could walk past them to the basement, her mom spoke. “Hi Ellie. Just wanted to let you know your week of chores is over. Dad and I transferred the money into your account if you want to go to the mall this afternoon. Now I have to go; I have a meeting.” 

The week is already over? Even though doing chores the entire week was definitely not fun, like when she accidentally made half her clothes pink because she mixed a red shirt with several white ones. Or when she sprayed herself with the hose while trying to close it after watering the garden. Even though Ellie didn’t want to do chores again, she did gain some kind of understanding of the effort Olga put in every day. She abruptly turned away from her bedroom and ascended to the third floor, where Olga lived. Her shoes clacked on the polished wood floor and she could hear the echoes reverberating through the whole house. Once she arrived at Olga’s door however, she hesitated for a moment before going ahead and knocking on the door. 

“Come on!” called Olga’s familiar voice.

Ellie grasped the cold bronze metal of the doorknob and turned it. She stepped inside the room where Olga’s eyes were wide with surprise at Ellie’s visit. Ellie took a deep breath and blurted out, “I’m sorry Olga. I know how hard you work every day. I shouldn’t have taken it for granted.”

The two stared at each other for a few more moments before Olga spoke. “Apology accepted.”

“Amy, your lesson is going to start soon, you have to get out of bed!” Ugh, I can’t do this, not on a Sunday morning. I pretended to be asleep, but mom caught me flinching when she walked closer. “Amy, there’s no use pretending. You know you have a competition coming up, and you need to prepare for it.”

“Yea yea so what? It’s just a little competition, and besides, what’s so important about that competition anyways? Stop making such a fuss and let me sleep.” 

I saw my mom’s face turn red, her ears turning a bit pink, her brows furrowing. “Amy! Just because you played for 5 years doesn’t mean that you’re gonna win the competition!”

“MOM JUST GET OUT!” I finally shouted. 

Mom left, but I could feel the floor vibrate every time she took a step, and it sounded like she was about to break the floor. Apparently the competition is, her words not mine, a good experience, and that I would “like” it. I could feel a headache creeping up on me, and I was starting to feel irritated. I dragged myself out of bed and readied myself for the treacherous practice. “ I literally played violin for half a decade, and there’s no way some losers can be better than me.” 

…

“Amy, you have to fix your intonation! More dynamics too! I told you the same thing last time! You have been practicing very carelessly haven’t you.”

  “It’s fine, I can just practice the day before the competition. It’s not a big deal.”

Wrinkles started to form on my teacher’s forehead. He looked at me with dismay, and he closed his eyes. “Amy, I know that you’re good, but there is always someone better out there in the world. The only way to beat them is to practice.”

My teacher’s “sincere” message was annoying me.  I just play the violin since Mom wanted me to continue. Nothing more, nothing less. Honestly, I don’t even know why I started. 

“Amy! Are you even listening to me? You’re going to regret not working harder!”

“Hmmm, how about, no.”

…

My palms were getting sweaty, and my heart was pounding. Two more kids have to perform, and then me. My stomach started to feel funny, and my legs started to lose strength.

“It’s ok, it’s ok, it’s ok,”I murmured under my breath. “I practiced a lot yesterday, those wimps just have luck on their side. I bet they didn’t even practice…” Oh god. My head started to feel fuzzy. Deep breaths Amy, deep breaths. I felt my leg muscles abnormally weak, and I looked down to see that I was unconsciously shaking my legs.

“Amy Wang?”

I looked up, and I wanted to cry. A lady with a clipboard came up to me, and I knew I was up next. I can’t do this, I can't do this, I-…should I just run? I looked at my violin, hoping that I would get some comfort out of it. 

“Amy, you’re going to perform soon, please start preparing.”

“O-ok”

I picked up my violin, and it felt as if it were 10 pounds heavier. I shakily walked near the stage and tuned. Your piece is Spring ok Amy? Spring by Vivaldi. What do you think when you hear Spring? Just play, it’s ok Amy, 

“Amy, please get on stage.” 

I took a deep breath, and went toward the lights. I placed the violin on my shoulder, I lifted the bow, and I started to play. 

…

“HOW LONG ARE THEY PLANNING TO TAKE! I WANNA SEE WHO WON!” I shouted.

“Honey, the score and the places should be coming out soon.” 

 “I WANT IT NOWWW!'' I shouted again, this time, with more passion. Why are they taking so long? It’s already been a week, so how are they not finished? 

“Oh Amy! The results are out!’

I snatched the phone out of mom’s hands and scrolled through the rankings. Amy Wang, Amy Wang, Amy Wang…where’s my name? I kept scrolling through, until I got to the leaderboard. Huh? Where’s my name? That’s when I saw it. My eyes widened, and my hands were trembling. I dropped the phone.

“AMY! WHAT’S WRONG?”

“I-i didn’t get first…” Tears were rolling down my face, and I dropped to the floor. “HOW! HOW DIDN’T I GET FIRST!” I started to scream. “I DON’T DESERVE TO GET FOURTH. THEY STOLE MY SPOT!” I couldn’t stop crying. The tears were endless, and I couldn’t think properly. Me, fourth? How was I fourth place? They must’ve cheated! I practiced so hard, and I get four-

“AMY! CALM DOWN. BREATHE.”

I stared at my mom. She looked at me with worried eyes, but there was a hint of seriousness. She crouched next to me and started to pat my back.

“I’m going to ask you a genuine question. Do you want to quit playing the violin?”

I looked down, and tears started streaming down my face even more. Do I even like the violin? Do I want to keep playing it? I realized my tears stopped, and I was thinking with all my heart. Why did I choose the violin? Why did I- Then I remembered. It was because it sounded beautiful. It was because playing it was fun, and it sounded pretty. That was all I needed…

…

“Amy? Have you decided?”

I sniffed,“Yea.”

“AMY! HURRY YOU’RE GOING TO BE LATE!”

“MOM I’M COMING CHRIST WHY DO YOU ALWAYS SCHEDULE THINGS SO EARLY ON SUNDAYS!”

I grabbed up my bag with my notes, and grabbed my violin case.

“Jesus, always morning morning morning. Why’s it always morning?”

I rushed to the car, and slammed the car door shut.

“Amy, you know you have a competition coming up right?”

“Yes, yes, I know. Don’t worry too much about it, it won’t be like last year. I’ll actually work harder this time, so let's just get this over with.”

…

“Amy, a little bit more dynamics! Add a bit more bow for forte!”

I put as much weight as I can on the bow, and tried to add more bow to my playing. Winter from Vivaldi is hard, much harder than I thought. 

“You’ve been improving quite a lot since the last time I saw you.”

“Of course, I can’t let that incident happen again. The violin isn’t that bad anymore either. Anyways, aren’t we going to continue?”

“Of course, now, play that measure for me again?”

I lifted my violin again and I practiced, again and again. I practiced until that day came. The day of the competition.2

The pink sparkly balloons, the 3-story cake, the 5-foot-tall pile of presents, professional photographers, and many more extravagant things. All for Adella’s 16th birthday, which cost her parents one million dollars. 

“Happy Birthday Adella! It’s your 16th birthday!”, Adella’s mom says with a big smile on her face.   

“Yay,” Adella rolls her eyes as she sits on the new velvet couch crossing her legs, her arms also crossed. 

“What’s wrong?” Adella just looks outside the window, it’s raining outside. 

“Where is the car that I asked for my birthday?” Adella asks, still looking at the window.

“I told you, we aren’t giving you a car until you learn how to drive,” Adella’s mom says a little impatiently

“Still, I think that I should get that car. It’s my birthday, so what if I don’t know how to drive, I still want that car.”

“You have other gifts, why don’t you enjoy those?” 

“Fine, I guess I’ll get my car!” Adella storms out of the room and to her bedroom. 

***

I’m here, Adella thought as she walked into the building, her mom’s credit card she stole in her hand. When she gets in, everything is pristine and everything is displayed nicely. 

A man in a pristine black suit walks up to her. “Welcome Ma’am to the Royce-Rolls dealership. My name is Jimmy. How may I help you?” he says in his deep Texan accent. 

“I’m looking for the Royce-Rolls Tail Boat car. Is that here?” Adella responds, still looking at all the cars. 

“Yep, just follow me,” Jimmy then leads her to the Royce-Rolls Tail Boat showroom, “Here is the Royce-Rolls Tail Boat, it has many features, over here the…” 

Adella doesn’t listen, she just stares at the car tuning out everything else, including the price of the car. 

“I will get the paperwork and agreements,” Jimmy walks out of the room and comes back with the paperwork after finishing his talk. He offers it to Adella and she finally comes out of her trance and takes it. So Adella signs all the paperwork and pays with the credit card. 

“Ok, got it, thank you for all your help!”

“No problem, I’ll show you out, Ma’am.” 

***

“Adella Selena Scott! Where have you been?” The moment Adella gets home she knows something bad is going to happen. She goes to the living room, sees her mom, and notices that both of her hands are on her hips, and her expression is hard.

“Yes?” Adella says innocently, though not looking at her mom’s eyes.

“Come sit down, we need to talk.,” Her expression doesn't change. 

This isn’t good at all, we never have talks, Adella thinks. Her hands start to sweat as she sits down across from her mom on a couch poof that normally is the most soft and warm thing in the world, but today it is hard and cold.

“I just got a notification that I purchased a 25 million dollar car. Can you tell me what that is about?” Her face is unreadable. 

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” Adella starts to fidget. 

“Don't lie to me, Adella, I know you bought it” she gets louder.

“So what if I did! It’s only 25 million dollars, it's not that mu—.”

“NOT THAT MUCH!!” she yells, standing tall over her. 

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN NOT THAT MUCH? Do you know how much we spent so you could be happy? Just for you to go do crazy things when we say no!” Adella looks anywhere but at her mom. She realizes that nothing is going to get her out of this. 

Her mom doesn't look mad anymore but instead looks disappointed. “I don’t know what we did wrong but I have no choice, we have to cut you off of money and you will be grounded.” 

“WHAT! You can’t do that!”

“Watch me! I am your mother, you clearly showed me that you can’t be trusted with money at all. You will return the car, and you will be grounded.” Adella thinks that her mom is being unreasonable, so she just sits there like a statue. After her mom leaves the room, Adella slowly walks up to her room, processing what just happened in the last few hours. She finally gets to her room, then the tears start to roll down her cheeks

***

“I can’t believe that my mom grounded me yesterday,” Adella rants to her friend Kevin about what happened in the past two days. “Why is everything just so unfair?”

“I know right, it’s not fair at all, I feel really bad for you.” He starts checking himself out in his pocket mirror. 

“Ya but the biggest thing is how am I supposed to return the car, it’s like the Royce-Rolls Tail Boat car, it’s not something you can just return.”

“The Jimmy guy you mentioned is my uncle, I think I can talk with him and help you to return the car.”

“Omg! Thank you, now that I have one problem solved, what am I supposed to do without shopping, SHOPPING!! That’s what I live for, but now I can’t?!” The hallways start to empty, with more people going to class. 

Kevin leaves to go to science class, and then a girl approaches Adella, “I couldn’t help but overhear you, and I was wondering. Why do you think not being able to shop is bad?”

“Because I can’t wear anything new. What do you know, I’ve seen you around, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Of course, I wouldn’t understand because I am not spoiled.”

“What do you mean I’m spoiled, I am NOT spoiled.”

“Fine, let me explain. Do you know how many people are homeless, and have no money?”

“No.” 

“Well there are a lot of people out there who aren’t as rich as you, and you aren’t even grateful. Do you know how many people would love to have a lot of money, and here you are just throwing it all away because you didn’t get what you wanted? So what if it was your birthday, you should have appreciated what you got and not what you wanted. Maybe you should look back at all the things that your parents have done and spent for you and appreciate it.” The girl leaves and Adella is there alone in the hallway, her legs not willing to move.

Maybe I should use less money, Adella thinks.

The rush of students leaving school is like a herd of wild bulls. Brady starts walking and all he can think about is stupid football practice later. Thankfully, he doesn’t have any homework, not like he would do it anyway. Brady has only been in school for one month and he already hates it.

Brady arrives home to an empty house, like usual. He goes straight upstairs and turns on his Playstation to play video games. He checks the clock, and it’s already 5:45pm. 

Brady lets out a “Pfff''. For a quick dinner, Brady microwaves a hot dog and grabs barbeque chips plus a coke to wash it down. He gets his stuff together slowly and is out the door. Football practice is at 6:10pm and Brady has a 20 minute walk. This doesn’t stop him from taking his time. When he arrives, his teammates have their pads on and are warming up. 

Coach Swift spots Brady and says, “Hustle up and get ready!” 

Brady chuckles and takes his sweet ole time. 

Coach Swift has had enough! “Brady, get your lazy butt over here!” 

Brady shrugs it off and finishes putting on his equipment. The practice stops. The ground seems to be vibrating and everyone looks back near Brady. 

“Uh oh.” 

“Oh boy.” 

“He was asking for it.” 

Coach Swift starts to rip Brady apart when Brady gets up and begins to practice. Coach has had enough. It has only been 15 minutes since practice started and Brady is ready to go home. Now, it is Coach who ignores Brady and starts running the practice for real. Brady is dominating as always, but his teammates are putting in more effort and hustle than him. 

Practice is finally over and some of the kids get picked up by their parents right next to the field, while others go over to the nice, new, bright blue basketball court that opened last month. Brady, on the other hand, cannot leave yet. Coach Swift stops Brady and makes him listen. 

Coach Swift says, “If you just keep playing around, not listening to me and not taking practice seriously, you're off the team. You have one more chance at practice next week to get your act together and if not, you're done!” 

Brady is staring off in the distance while listening to Coach. He let out a little laugh and said, “You can’t do that. The team needs me. I’m our best player. Bye Coach, see you at the game on Sunday.” Over the next few days, Brady didn’t think much about Coach Swift’s talk. 

Finally, it is gameday Sunday. Brady’s dad is home, but asleep as usual. Brady pours a bowl of Lucky Charms and has some orange juice for breakfast. His game is not until 4pm. He chills and stretches to get loose and pass some time. Then he plays Madden until 12:45pm. Brady makes a peanut butter and fluff sandwich, grabs a Gatorade and turns on the Steelers game. What feels like 20 minutes is actually an hour and a half. Brady has to get his stuff ready and get dressed for his game against his town’s rival. Brady arrives at the field at 3pm and is feeling good, ready to start. 

Coach Swift says, “Brady, you’re not starting and are on limited minutes today.” Brady is pissed and his team is losing at halftime. Brady thinks his team is losing because he only got in twice. One of the times he got in, he scored their only touchdown. Brady got in three more times, scored a touchdown and got an interception on defense. His effort helped the team just enough to get the win and keep their undefeated record. Brady is happy the team won, but pissed he only went in five times. During the team meeting, Coach talked about how well the season is going, how well everyone is working together and that there is one more game before the playoffs. 

After the team meeting, Brady went up to Coach and said, “You're welcome. I saved us today.” 

Even though Coach Swift said Brady would get one more chance at their next practice, what Brady said pushed Coach over the edge and got Brady kicked off the team. Brady is stunned and can’t think of something to say before Coach walks away. On his walk home, Brady is still shocked at what happened and keeps replaying the situation in his head. He still can’t believe he’s off the team. He knows he needs to change as a person.

The day after the football game, Brady was in his dusty basement at 5am to train. He took getting kicked off the team to heart. Now, he’ll work hard everyday to try to get back on the team and become a better leader, teammate, and coachable player. Brady does 100 pushups, 150 sit ups, and goes for a 2 mile jog all before school. He didn't just change as a football player, he changed as a student and a person. In school, he listened to all his teachers, did all his work on time, and even studied for an upcoming test. After school, he was back to the grind and feeling better than ever! 100 more push ups, some sprints, and 200 more situps! Brady loves feeling the sweat and drive of this new training.

Over the next few weeks, this was Brady’s routine. One day when Brady’s old team had practice, he showed up early and dressed to hopefully participate. Before practice Brady asked Coach, “Is there any way I can get back on the team before the championship game on Sunday? I am very sorry for being selfish, not taking anything seriously, and not being a good teammate or a coachable player. I have changed a lot and would love to help the team win it all.” 

Coach Swift says, “You can practice with us today, but I will need time to decide if you can play on Sunday.” 

Brady responded, “Thank you so much Coach. I will not let you down.” 

Brady has a good practice and goes back home. He feels good that Coach will let him play in the championship, but he’s not 100% sure. There are only 3 days until the championship and Coach hasn’t told Brady if he can play. Brady keeps working out on his own to get stronger and better. 

Finally, Brady gets a text from Coach. It says he can play. Brady is stoked! When Brady gets to the field, he thanks Coach and warms up. Brady plays a lot and has two quick touchdowns. At half time, Brady’s team is up 17 - 14. Coach compliments Brady and says he’s amazing. With 45 seconds left in the game, it is tied. The clock is running down. With 15 seconds left, Brady’s teammate throws Brady the ball. 7,6,5,4,3,2,1! Brady catches the ball in the endzone as the clock hits 0 and his team wins the championship! 

After the game, Brady is named MVP. Instead of keeping the trophy for himself, he gives it to Coach and says, “The entire team is MVP and I couldn’t have done so well without my teammates.” Coach smiles.

The team ends the huddle with one last, “Champs on three, 1,2,3, Champs!”

I clap my hands with about the amount of enthusiasm as a dying baboon as the bowl cut kid finishes his amateur Bach piece. Pfft. Bach? At the most prestigious piano competition in New England?! My mom thwacks my thigh as I roll my eyes. When I walk up to that stage to get my 1st place gold medal, handed to me by none other than Mang Mang himself, that kid will be happy I even noticed him!!

The severely balding announcer hops up on the stage again, and grabs the microphone. “And next up, we have… Melody Wang!!” I roll my eyes so hard they almost fall out of my sockets and onto the creaky hardwood floor. You don’t have to have a cliche musical name to be a piano prodigy, you know. Like me! 

The first things I see are old black flats. Really? Who actually comes to the New England Piano Prodigy Competition Sponsored By Mang Mang (NEPPCSBMM) wearing old shoes?!?! I look down at my $2000 Berluti Alessandro Demesure Leather Oxfords and smirk. Of course, not everyone’s rich like me! Hee hee haw haw. 

My brain starts to go on vacation again when the first chord of the Revolutionary Etude echoes around the concert hall. Everyone’s suddenly awake. What?! Those first few measures took me a month to master. My knuckles are white from clutching the armrest, and the permanent scowl on my face deepens. 

When she finishes, bowing, everyone claps but me. I’m still stuck in a trance. My mom thwacks me again, and I manage a few hesitant claps before the announcer, slightly frazzled, walks back onstage.

“Well… great job, Melody!” Silence. He shakes his head, then continues, “Alright, and next we have Kevin Liu!” Everyone claps slowly. If this was any other occasion, people might even be cheering. 

I take a bow next to the piano, the bright white lights momentarily blinding me. I need to win this. I mean, of course I’ll win this, I’m THE Kevin Liu!!! Then I straighten up, wipe my sweaty palms on my pants, and sit down on the bench. 

I adjust my hands to the position Chopin’s Ballade #1 starts at, my right thumb and left pinky both on C’s. I can’t mess this up. I press down as hard as I can, and the notes reverb around the stage. The audience is quiet. 

I continue with the synchronized first measures, more and more confident in myself again. Pfft, why was I even worrying? I’ve been playing piano for 10 years, won every single competition I’ve ever been to, and will probably earn my Young Artist next year, yada yada… Clash.

I don’t even need to look down to know that I messed up. And I haven’t even gotten to the hard part yet, the climax. Even during the easiest part, my left hand somehow mixes up the broken chords and a horrible sound floats around the room. I dart a quick look to the audience and see something I’ll never forget- my mom with a scowl even bigger than mine. Which I didn’t even know was physically possible. 

Clash. Clash. Clash. Messed up chords and arpeggios, forgotten dynamics, ignored crescendos, it’s all happening. Things I’ve never even noticed before are going wrong, things I used to be able to do flawlessly with my eyes closed and cooking an egg on the side. 

I feel sweat pouring down my face as I finally finish the last scale of chords. Then I shakily stand up, steady myself on the piano, and take the most unconfident bow I’ve probably ever taken. The audience claps unsurely, as if not knowing whether to cheer for their 4 year old son’s ex-role model or not. 

“Great job, Kevin!” The announcer bounces back on stage, and looks at me with pity in his eyes. Oh my gosh, pity!! Never have I ever, ever been pitied. Only envied!!! “Okay, that was our last performer. Mang Mang and our panel of judges will soon be making a decision on the 1st, 2nd, and 3rd places! There are refreshments outside, so please help yourselves and meet back here in about 10 minutes!” 

I grumble and growl as I sulk down the stairs, then take my seat next to my mom. Her face is so angry she almost looks happy. I silently scoot away. I can’t help but notice the people gawking at me from all over. Usually this would’ve made me proud, but today it’s… I don’t even know. Kind of demeaning. 

I tell my mom she can go get refreshments without me, then slink down in my chair. Truth is I just want to be alone for a bit. I look down at my shoes. 

What seems like a few seconds later my mom is back, and Bald Announcer Guy comes hopping back onto the stage. “Aaaattention competitors! We have our winners here.” Everyone is immediately silent. He looks down at a notecard, and then says, “For our 3rd place winner, we have…”

Probably Bowl Cut Kid. He actually wasn’t that bad. 

“Kevin Liu!!!” 

WHAT?!?!!? HUH!?!?!?! The surprise must’ve been evident, because everyone’s so quiet you could hear a cotton ball drop. I fumble up to the stage and get my teeny tiny tacky 3rd place medal. Then the announcer pats me on the back, kind of sadly, and tells me to get off the stage. 

“And 2nd place is… Jeremy Wong!!” He announces. Bowl Cut Kid?!?!?!!? Seriously?!?!?!?! He almost squeals as he runs up the stage to get his medal. 

Then Mang Mang walks onto the stage, and everyone screams so loud the bodyguards immediately come out to stop the bombardment of fans. The announcer continues, “And in 1st place, we have… MELODY WANG!!!! Congratulations, Melody, all the judges thought your playing was just EXQUISITE!!!!!” She’s grinning so wide her cheeks almost crumble and fall apart as she sprints up the stage and past the bodyguards to get her huge, shiny, beautiful 1st place gold medal. From Mang Mang!!!!!! 

“Good job, Melody!” Mang Mang says, and I almost faint. My entire life I’ve been waiting to meet him, and now my only chance has been swiped from me!! Right under my nose!!!!

I storm outside for a cookie. I see Melody sipping lemonade in the corner, the medal- my medal!!- clutched in her hand. I walk over to her.

“Sooo, congrats on 1st place.” I try to casually strike up a conversation. 

“Thanks. You too, on 3rd place!”

I roll my eyes. Why is she pretending to be nice?! “3rd place is trash.”

“It’s really not.” 

“But…” I struggle to maintain my self control as I feel my anger flaring up again. “But all my life I’ve been getting 1st, and now suddenly I just feel like… I suck.” 

Now she’s looking at me. “Kevin. I don’t know why you would think that 3rd place sucks, but it doesn’t.” I look down at my bronze medal and then back at her. “Do you think that I’ve just gotten 1st place my whole life? No! I’ve gotten more participation awards than you probably have trophies on your shelf. It’s okay if you don’t win every time, Kevin.” She shrugs, then walks away towards her family. 

So I find my mom, and soon we’re back in my (future…!) Rolls Royce heading home. I look out the window at the drizzle, and think back to my practicing these past few months. Some days I didn’t even bother. Some days just for a few minutes. Some days my mom forced me to but I didn’t actually focus. 

I get out of the car and run up the stairs, and put my bronze medal on my built-in wall shelf of achievements. It looks a bit out of place, but… it’s something!!! I can’t wait to rant to Adella about today. 

I’m still staring at my shelf when- “Kevin.” My mom suddenly snaps me out of it, looking at me like she’s never seen me before in her life. “You’ve changed.” She finally says. Ugh, all this sappy stuff is making me want to puke. 

“Me? Nope. Never.” But the more I think about it, the more I know that I have- and for the better. Hee hee haw haw. 

GOOOOOOOOAL! Tommy catapults himself onto my back after I place the soccer ball into the bottom right corner of the net. I trott back to the half way line with my team following. We reset and put the white ball filled with pentagons in the half field circle and the other team kicks it back into play. 

“Stop the game!” Yells my P.E. teacher, Mr. Grandsberg shortly after we restarted the game. “Do you play soccer?” 

 “W-we-well no n- not really.” I replied not managing to meet his eye. 

“You should think about playing for the school team.” 

“Y-yeah i-i'll talk t-to my m-mom.” The rest of the day carries on as normal except I can not seem to get the thought of me playing for the school team out of my head. It travels with me throughout all my classes and even appears in my dreams. I mean, am I really good enough to play for them? The thought of me going to tryouts and getting embarrassed rattles through my bones like an electric shock.

The next day, I woke up to my mom yelling at the TV after watching the New England Revolution game rerun. 

“Jecob!” 

“Whaaaat!” I march down the stairs.

“The school just invited you to try out for the soccer team,” Mom says, clapping her hands together.

“Cool” I reply, staring at the ground.

“Is something wrong?” 

“N-no it’s okay” I’m going to school love you, I say closing the door. The school day flew by and when I opened the door I noticed my mom tapping her foot on the light brown wood floor looking at me with her intense glare. “I just got an email from Mr. Gransberg.” “He mentioned you saying you didn’t want to play?” I keep my glance straight on the ground while peering up at her every five seconds. 

“You know the school soccer is free right?” 

“Yeah I-I know” I say, keeping my eyes locked on to the shiny wood. 

“School tryouts are next week. You could be making a huge mistake.”

Scrape, scrape! My feet drag across the pavement as slow as I can to avoid what I know is in the door waiting for me. I tried to think happy thoughts because it was me and a thousand other kids’ favorite day of the week, Friday. Where the school week ends, and the weekend begins. My mom was still waiting on my school soccer reply as all that floats through my mind is how bad I could do at tryouts. I play my video games and the rest of the Friday carries on as normal until the end. “Let’s go” My mom says, unplugging my xbox. I knew there was no point in arguing as it was obvious I would lose. So I throw on my adidas shoes and nike sweatshirt and leap in the Black BMW without a word. The car stops as I peer up to see we are at a familiar location. Uncle Gerralds house. We get out of the car and I watch my mom punch in the 6-digit code to the garage. The garage door slides open, and we climb up the stairs. My uncle is wearing his gray reading glasses holding today's news newspaper in his wrinkled hands. “Hey Uncle Gerrald,” I say enthusiastically.

“Great to see you Nephew!” he shouts, as he gives me a bone crunching hug. “I heard you were thinking about trying out for the school soccer team!” 

“Yeah. I’m thinking about it.” 

“Did you know I used to play.” He says with full confidence

“Really!?” 

“Yeah I walked on for my division 3 college.”

“Wow, that's awesome!” I shout still stunned by the fact that my once boring uncle was a freak athlete.

“I didn't want to try out. I was nervous I wasn't going to play well and I was going to be embarrassed. But then, I got a phone call from my dad telling me something I’ll never forget. He said, “if you lose, you lose and there is nothing you can do about it, but, you miss one hundred percent of the shots you don't take.” He said. The chills ran up and down my spine as goose bumps formed on my arms and legs. 

During the car ride home after the dinner at Uncle Gerrald’s house there were only a few words spoken between my mom and I. My stomach twists and turns while I walk up the house stairs which feel infinite. I fall asleep hours later as all I can think about is how good the kids at tryouts could be. 

The first bell quickly turns into the last as before I knew it I was suiting up with my cleats on and ready to play.

“Get ready, you will go in, in two minutes,” says the coach.

 I do my own warm up that my mom once taught me and before I know it, I’m subbing onto the game. “N-number f-five I think I’m t-taking you out.” I hand him my penny as when I get the ball I immediately pass the ball. It’s a shaky pass that does not carry too much power. The game carries on and I was so focused on not making a mistake I did not yet show the coaches my skills. 

“5 more minutes left!” The coach yells. 

I yell for the ball “P-pass!” they don’t pass. “H-here!” I scream. The kid who carries the ball continues to hold onto it then loses it. My team finally wins the ball back. “Here!” I boom. I get the ball. I do my favorite skill, an elastico to get by the first defender. I pass fake and get by the second before cracking a shot from far outside of the 18 yard box and watch as the ball floats perfectly past the goalie and into the white netting.

 “Oh my,” Coach mumbles. 

My entire team cheers as I seal the game for the 2-0 victory.

 “Great playing out there,” Coach Grandsberg says. 

“Thanks.” I reply as I walk off the field with my head held high. 

Family

James’s head pounded.

“Shut up!!!” his scream came out muffled from under the pillow his head was squished under. as he breathed in the musty, dark smell of the underside of his pillow, came out muffled from under the pillow that he had squished over his head. Maybe if I just wish really really hard, they’ll teleport to China where it’s a decent hour and not 7 AM!!

“JAMES! IT'S TIME TO WAKE UUUUUUP! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE MY BROTHER! HOW CAN YOU BE TIRED!? GUESS WHAT? CHICKEN BUTT!” Ethan exploded into laughter at his own joke.

“Go away”, came James’s voice, still wedged under the pillow.

“PANCAKES!”, squealed Ethan as he sprinted out of James’s bedroom. A cold draft coaxed James out from under the pillow as he narrowed his eyes at the spot where his brother had stood. That jerk left the door open. With a sigh, James heaved himself out of bed. Great. Now I’m up.

James trudged his way into the bathroom and scrubbed his face until his cheeks turned red. He jumped and hit his head on the cabinet when his phone rang.

“James! Get in the car! You need to drive your brother to his T-ball game!”

“Uuugh”, James replied, “I don’t want to go to his stupid game, mom!”

“Too late, James! I’m placing my trust in you to take care of your siblings for 4 days while your dad and I are away. You’re 17! I expect better!” The line dropped.

It’s bad enough that I was up at 7 in the morning, but now I have to drag everyone across town to all their events and be “supportive” and “enthusiastic” about watching my brother and 10 other blobs of 5-year-old jelly stand in a field squinting at the sun!

“Ethan, I’m not taking you to your game,” James called.

“Ok.” Ethan had hated T-ball since the first practice. James rolled onto the couch and grasped between the couch cushions for the TV remote. His hands came back empty.

“Sarah! WHERE'S THE REMOTE?”

“Geez, you don’t have to yell…”, she smirked, infusing the words with as much sass and sarcasm as physically possible.

“Sarah, I’m not in the mood…”, James breathed, eyes closed.

“WHAT!? You’re such a JERK, James! I’m telling! I hate you! Just go and stupid text your stupid friends to stupid ask where the remote stupid is! I hate you!”, James rolled his eyes. His gaze met her back as she stormed off. Probably to go hide the remote. 

“Mom and dad aren’t here, you know! They won’t be back from the funeral for the rest of the week! Besides, I didn’t do anything to you!”

“I’m still telling!” 

James grumbled and heaved himself up from the couch. All I wanted was to sleep in and watch TV.

After James had thoroughly sulked about it and finally decided getting out of bed that morning was one of the worst decisions he’d ever made, he fell back asleep on the couch. “JAAAAAAAAAAMES!!!!!!” Or not.

“Go away Ethan”

“Make me”

“Ethan, I’m warning you…” Ethan smirked.

“What can you do?”

“Ethan, what’s in your hand?”

“Ummm”, he hesitated. Suddenly he chucked the mysterious item onto the couch and ran away as fast as he could. James picked it up with confusion, realization dawning on his face. In his hand was his new phone, his most cherished possession, his entire world. The screen was cracked and flashing colors, the phone was whining a medley of his alarm clock sound and his answering machine recording, and it was dripping with water.

“ETHAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”, James howled, “WHAT HAPPENED!??!?!?!?!?!?”

“Umm, yeah… I told Charlie the pool wasn’t a good idea… but it’s not a big deal.” James had never been as mad before as he was at Ethan in that moment. He felt like screaming and crying and running away to live in the mountains. Maybe simultaneously. 

“I wish you didn’t exist! He shouted at Ethan. “You are the worst brother in the world! Never talk to me again!”

He faltered when he saw the look on Ethan’s face. What do I look like right now? Ethan burst into tears and ran out of the house before James could stop him.

James walked into the bathroom to wash his face. What did I do to deserve this? Ethan was still crying in his room next door. Suddenly new crying erupted at James’s feet. Great, thought James, concluding that Abby had crawled out of her crib to torture him, too.

“Be quiet!!!!” James shouted again, slamming the bathroom door. He looked up at his reflection in the mirror, as if it could speak to him. His face was red and scrunched up and he was breathing hard, his ears still ringing from shouting at Ethan. I look like a monster. James cautiously stepped out of the bathroom, and he saw Sarah glaring at him from the kitchen. Ethan whimpered as he fell into James’s line of sight, and he started crying again.

“You’re supposed to be taking care of us,” snarled Sarah, “While mom and dad are away for the weekend, we were supposed to trust you!” James was taken aback. He stumbled and sat down at the top of the stairs. He was still breathing hard, though his anger had completely vanished. I’m a horrible person. What have I done?

James breathed.

“Ethan, Sarah?” Abby sniffed at his feet. “Abby too? I-I’m sorry. I know I seem scary right now. Treating you guys like this is not the right thing to do. We’re family. That’s what matters to me the most, even when I get mad or you mess with my stuff. I have to remember that. And Ethan? I’m really glad you’re my brother. I hope you can forgive me.”

Rira Hakimelahi

11/6/2023

B Block

Burn for you:

"Lily, Lily, wait up," Rose squealed as she ran down the hallway in a foolish attempt to try and catch up to me. 

"Stop calling me that Rose. I told you it's Lilith, not Lily," I groaned, switching which hand was holding my scythe. 

"Fine, when do you finish work? "She jumped in front of me, bouncing up and down on the balls of her heels. Her hazel brown hair tangled into the white feathers of her wings. 

"None of your business, Rose!" I rolled my eyes; her smile fell, which made my heart drop. Her eyes darted to the corner of the room for a moment. 

"Sorry."

"Just leave me to my work" It took everything in my existence not to run forwards and swoop her up in my arms, every single god's damned fiber. 

"B-But…" She looked down at her feet, her hands fidgeted from inside the holes of her white sweater. 

"Rose, just go home; I'll return in the next hour." I snapped, then walked around her and into the door of the emergency room, where the souls were waiting for me to pick them like apples on a tree. Leaving Rose there, standing alone, staring at where I once stood. 

After three laborious hours, I’d finally reaped all the souls on my list from the hospital. The sun was on the horizon; Rose used to point that out to me. My black platform metal boots clunked on the pavement, each footstep sounding like a metal water bottle hitting the floor. A sound that made my ears ring and my nose scrunch up. 

Home was an exciting place. Our home was a vast, morbid, cold castle; at least, that’s what my side looked like. Rose’s side was your stereotypical Royal Core castle with marble floors and little angel statues around every corner. Disgusting, I know. 

“Rose!” I called out into the castle. My voice echoed through the room. “Rosie, I’m home!” I rolled my eyes. Perhaps she took an early night, but there was still a sinking feeling in my stomach. I slowly stepped into her side of the castle, expecting the usual warmth she gives off wherever she is.

But it wasn’t warm this time; it was cold, just as cold as the corpses once I stole their souls from their bodies. 

“ROSE!!!” I shouted into the castle; the only response was the echoes of my voice bouncing off the wall. My heart sank into the bottom of the ocean, a cold feeling took over my body, and my scythe slipped out of my hands. 

“ROSE ARE YOU THERE?!” I screamed while picking up my scythe and sprinting towards her quarters. My heart was pounding inside my head; I know I treated her like shit this whole time we’ve been stuck together. No matter how hard she tried to get my love out of my cold rock of a heart. But losing Rose now felt like a stab in the chest. If I lost the only light in my life, I’d stop my heart from beating. 

The more I ran towards her room, the more I shivered. 

“ROSE, ARE YOU THERE?” I screamed while I pounded on her door, hoping for her to open it with a smile, saying that she just turned the cooler on. 

“ROSE, I SWEAR TO HADES. IF YOU DON’T OPEN THIS DOOR, I’LL BREAK IT DOWN MYSELF,” I screamed again; I laid down on my side to check under the door. Maybe I could see her silhouette and find where she was. I jumped back in shock as black vines came into my view, curling up the door as if the sides of a castle. 

“R-Rose,” I whimpered, picking up my scythe and cutting the vines. A shrill scream could be heard from inside the room, making my blood run cold. Slowly, I brought my hand to the doorknob and twisted it. My heart was pounding in my chest like a kick drum. 

The entire room was a graveyard gray, with flakes of black here and there. And there, in the middle of the room, laid Rose, sprawled out on the floor in a starfish position. Little gray corpse-like hands were sticking out from the ground, pulling her in as if burying her. 

“NO!” I screamed, tears flooding my eyes like a waterfall as I dropped to my knees and tried to pull Rose back. The hands wouldn’t release her; they refused to, no matter how much I pulled her or slapped them. This was all my fault. I should have never left her alone, and now I held her lifeless frame in my arms, begging Hades to send her back to me. 

“You can’t have her back,” A dark, distorted voice whispered. 

“Who’s there?” I snapped my head backward to see a tall, skeletal figure with blood-red eyes and a fleshy skull for a face. Two horns stuck out of the fleshy skull (which looked like it was rotted, ew), and two ripped-up wings. My heart beat faster, even though I thought it had stopped. 

“You had your chance with her, Carmort. Now she’s ours,” The demon spoke, his words sending shivers down my spine. 

“No.” I pulled out my scythe and held it to their neck. “You will return her to me, or I’ll make you. So which way are we going to go?”

Without a second thought, the demon lunged forward and took a scratch at my eye, which resulted in blood flowing down my face as a result of losing my left eye. I let out a groan of agony before attacking again, taking a swing at its midsection and succeeding. I wasn't going to let this demon take the love of my life, and I’d make sure of it, even if it was the last thing I did. The demon swiped at my other eye, which I blocked by cutting off its hand; it let out another scream before attacking again. This time at my chest, but unlike last time, it succeeded. I let out an ear-piercing scream as the claw made a huge gash right above where my heart would be.

In a final ditch attempt, I ran forward and cut off its other hand, then its neck. Blood splattered all over my hands. Killing the demon. 

Suddenly, I heard a shaky breath from across the room, then a cough. 

“Am I dead?” Rose’s sweet voice called from the other side of the room. The sides of my lips curled into a smile as I ran to her side, fell to my knees, and picked her up. Tears of relief ran down my face like a river. 

“L-Lilith, are you ok?” She asked quietly while burying her face into the side of my neck. I didn’t notice until that moment how much I was shaking, but it didn’t matter; I had my Rose back. 

“Y-Yeah, I’m fine.” My voice broke as I held her closer. 

“Lilith, you’re bleeding, and you’re missing an eye…”

“I almost lost you, Rose.”

“Yeah, but don’t you, like, not care about my wellbeing and wish I wasn’t real?” Her voice faltered, and she looked down to her feet. 

“Don’t say that, it’s not true.” She raised an eyebrow at me before hugging me tighter than saying. 

“Well, if that’s the case, would you hug me if it’s not gonna take up much of your effort?” She asked quietly. 

“Rose, I don’t think you understand. I’d burn for you.”

Heights

“I don’t want to go Mom. Being up there so high is scary,” I tell Mom while sitting on my bed.  Really ever since I got invited to Bobs for pizza and then to the zipline place I have been nervous. 

“I want to spend time with Bob because he’s my friend but going up so high. It makes me want to throw up thinking about it.” 

“James, Bob is your best friend. It would hurt his feelings so much if you decided not to go because you're scared. Toughen up. You are going and that's final. Get some sleep. Good Night.” 

“But Mom!” That look she gave me made me wish I never argued with her. 

“Ugh Good Night.” She closed the door but I sat in the dark for a while thinking. Crackskull Zipline place. Even the name sounds scary. It would be so much better if me and Bob were having a nerf gun battle or water balloon fight. 

*** 

 “Are you ok, James?” My mom asked. “You are never in bed this late. You have to be at Bob’s at two, remember?” 

“I know. I want to spend time with Bob but I don’t want to go on the zipline.” 

“I know that but sometimes you have to do stuff you don’t want to do. We said we were going to Bob's party and we are going to. Get ready.” I felt like I was going to throw up as we pulled into Bob's driveway. 

“Hi James! Are you excited? We’re eating pizza then leaving to go to the zipline place” 

“Yep, I’m excited,” I lied. 

“Why aren't you eating James? I thought you loved pizza?,” Bob’s mom asked. 

“I guess I’m not hungry.” The whole ride I felt like throwing up. I pretended I was fine the repeated times Bob and his mom asked me if I was. 

“You are up next kid. Make sure you are harnessed in and then start climbing.” It was time. 

I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die. My knees were shaking before I even started climbing. 

“Come on kid, other people need to go start climbing," the instructor said. Come on James, climbing up should be the easy part. Then jumping off will be hard. One step at a time. One, Two, One Two, One Two. Almost there. Ok. Don’t look down, don’t look down. Somehow I made it to the top. 

“All right,” the guy said. “Hold on to this and jump off.” Oh my god, Oh my god. I’m gonna jump but I’m not looking. 

Woah. I’m flying. Is this fun?! It’s fun. I think I can see my house from here. This is so fun. How was I scared of this? 

“Go James,” Bob yelled. “I told you it was gonna be good.”

“That was awesome!” I tell Bob. “Let’s go a hundred more times before we leave.”

***

I climbed over stacks of books, messy clothes, and photographs to get in my bed when my mom walked in. 

“So, how was it? Was it as bad as you thought it was gonna be? I saw a big grin on your face.”

“I survived,” I said while smiling. “Being up high and being able to see everything was so awesome.” 

“That's so great sweetie.”

“I just had to overcome my fear of heights. Next time I’m scared of something I am going to try it anyway. I’ll see what it’s like first before I make a decision if I am gonna do it or not.” 

“ I think that's a wonderful idea James. It was really awesome to see you up there doing that. I bet Bob enjoyed it too”. 

“ Yeah. It was fun.” 

“Ok honey you should get some sleep. I see you trying to hide those yawns. Good Night!” 

Right before I fell asleep I thought of one more thing. Crackskull zipline place. Not so scary anymore. 

Unban Unwind 

Books are one of the best ways to educate young readers as their minds continue to grow; taking this away from them is criminal, especially if that book covers impactful topics. Unwind, by Neil Shusterman follows teenagers, Lev, Risa, and Connor, who are selected for Unwinding. They each are selected for different reasons, Connor, for being a troublemaker, Risa, for being a ward of the state, with budget cuts, Lev, for having been raised a tithe. Unwinding is a process developed to stop a war between those who are pro-abortion and those who are not. The process makes sure that every piece of your body is taken apart and used as transplants for others. Children, known as tithes, are those chosen before birth to essentially be sacrificed, in the form of Unwinding. They are raised religiously, so that they accept it. Connor and Risa escape Unwinding and in the process, kidnap Lev. As a Tithe, Lev is unappreciative, and soon after attempts to turn them in. Able to slip away, Risa and Connor continue to evade capture and find themselves in an Unwind refuge facility. Eventually, they are found and sent to an Unwind camp. Unexpectedly, they come across a changed Lev, a clapper. Although Unwind, by Neil Shusterman, contains an abundance of brutality, it should not be banned because it covers deep topics, such as love and loss of identity.  

Some might argue Unwind’s abundance of violence, including rape and suicide, could impact children’s mental health. All Unwinds know that if a girl is pregnant, then they can not be unwound, so Risa is frightened when Roland threatens her with,“So, whaddaya say we have some fun and make sure you don’t get unwound for nine months?”(150). Rape is a serious problem and cases of it continue to rise. Middle school might be too early to introduce rape to children, which is what some parents might think. Also, in Unwind there are those who call themselves, “clappers.” Clappers consist of those who believe that their acts are smiled upon by God, who believe their act will bring about change in the world, who want to share their misery with the world, or are driven by vengeance. They reveal themselves by injecting explosive fluid into their body and suicide bombing people. As Mai finds her time has come, “She looks at the detonators on her palm. This is for Vincent. This is for her parents, who signed the Unwind order. This is for the whole world. She claps once. Nothing. She claps twice. Nothing. She claps a third time. The third time is the charm,”(309). Suicide is something that many children have already heard of, but parents might believe that some characters from this book, who have an objective of causing chaos, might frighten their child. While Unwind does have many forms of violence, it is a good way to introduce children, especially in middle school, to rape and the motivation for suicide, because on the news, we often hear about these situations, but never seek to dig deeper into perspective and motive for these people who commit a sorrowful end to their life. Unwind's use of impacting life topics overpowers the book's abundance of violence. 

Further, Unwind's inclusiveness of many deep topics, including love and loss of identity, can encourage growth in the minds of middle schoolers. After Connor is sent to be Unwound by his parents, he believes he is loved by no one. When told to write to those he loves, he believes he has no one to write to, but he is then enlightened by the words of a woman helping him, saying, “You think that because no one loves you, then you can’t love anyone. All right, then if there’s no one you love, then pick someone who needs to hear what you have to say,”(108-109). Connor’s perspective is enlarged after he faces the realization that you do not have to receive love to give it. The author describes how love is not only a way to connect to others, but a way for you to feel connected to them. Also, When Connor is left in a crate with other boys, soon to be unwound, they begin to talk about what happens to your soul when you are unwound. When Connor is left alone with his thoughts, “He tries to imagine himself stretched so thin and so wide that he can reach around the world. He imagines his spirit like a web strung between the thousand recipients of his hands, his eyes, the fragments—none of it under his control anymore, all absorbed by the bodies and wills of others”(171). The author's description of being unwound is similar to how, as a child, you progressively experience change and loss of identity as you continue to grow up. As a middle schooler, you are in a phase of your life where you question yourself, and the author portrays this by having Connor wonder about how Unwinding will change his soul, similarly to how, as we grow or change, we ask ourselves, what makes me, me? We ask ourselves how much our friends influence us? If good or bad.  

Despite Unwind, by Neil Shusterman, including a great deal of intense imagery, its inclusiveness towards extensive issues on life, covering love and loss of identity, is the reason why it should not be banned. Unwind has violence, where in many instances, could be believed as threatening, particularly from a parents point of view, who want to do everything to keep their child’s mental health in check. Through the fearful eyes of watchful parents, Unwind may be seen as unfit for the middle school age level, but if a parent were to take a closer look, they would find many positive, and relatable messages, for children, confined within Unwind, and for this reason, it should not be banned. If children read books like Unwind, the messages on love and loss of identity will be able to support them in the long run, and nurture these adolescents to greater prosperity. Books promote distinguishable growth in juveniles and taking this away should be seen as nothing less than a crime.

Social?

“Okay. everybody I'm gonna split you guys into groups of four! Groups of four… groups of four…..” Mr. Kneemaker repeated to himself before pacing around each desk to give some worksheets out to the class. John picked up his head, his heart started beating two times the speed from when he woke up. One of his legs started to shake profusely. 

Okay you can do this John…. Nobody isn’t going to tease you…. Believe in your….. Heh!? A paper got slammed onto his desk with Mr. Kneemaker looking down on him. His eyes moved up and down gesturing to focus on his group behind him and not the internal mantras his counselor Yuki gave him.

Kyle, Savanna, Elliot….. the smart bunch.

John twisted his body to face the two kids behind him and Elliot who was next to him. All of their voices started merging into a clump of random gibberish.

Write this…. okay the 4x+2=69… Am I really still at page one ....

“Why aren't you participating in your group Mr. Wang?”

John looked up, his heart started beating fast, face turned red.

“I’ve been…participating.”

“Okay, sure sure! Let's see what your student skills grade says about that,” Mr.Kneemaker scoffed, rolling his eyes.

John clenched his fist. This day can't get any worse……

__________

Fried food filled the cafeteria, it was as if the breaded smell was the room's source of oxygen. Kids filled each table, laughing and running around the room.

John paced back and forth, trying to find a seat.

Come on. Come on!

One empty stool was awaiting him. 

“Yo! Can I sit here?” None of the kids sitting paid any attention.

The warden of the lunchroom tapped John on the shoulder.

“Siiiitt dowwwwn!” 

Okay okay geez, Ms. Cooper. John immediately sat at the stool he was eyeing for the last couple minutes.

Ignoring the conversation taking place behind him. A thought loop started to showcase in his mind over and over again. Replaying the same experiences of mistreatment and teasing from fellow classmates.

“Stupid.” “Pathetic.” “Loser.” Cut it out brain! Why do you keep thinking about this unimportant stuff! It's all in the past! That’s what mom says…. right? 

A feeling emerged, John turned his back to face the table behind him.

Wham!

“Ugh!” 

The popular guys behind his table threw a carton of clumpy expired milk on John’s hoodie. A big puddle soaked the back of the hoodie as the liquid slowly dripped down from his back to the seat, making a spill on the floor.

John begrudgingly cleaned the mess up. His fist slammed the stool as he crouched on the ground profusely scrubbing the spill with a paper towel. Why me….

____________

Finally someone I feel comfortable talking to.

John stared at the guidance counselor door. A whiteboard displayed “Come In!” in big green letters. He slowly opened the door.

“Hey, Yuki!”

“Yo! Mr.Wang!” Yuki smiled while sitting on his chair. John’s levels of anxiety dropped by two times the amount of the last block’s. Both him and Yuki fistbumped eachother as they made an exploding sound, the door closed behind them.

“What brings you in here today?” 

“Well….School has been kinda crap lately.”

“How so?” 

“I want to make some genuine friends though I don’t have the courage to do so…”

“When did this feeling start?” 

“Last year… I made friends with some of the popular kids. I thought they were friendly and wanted to look out for me. Overtime, I realized that they were just using me to get free lunch and bully me because of my hobbies.”

A pause commenced as Yuki began to get his thoughts out.

“I see…… that reminds me of when I was younger. People mistreating you and not being appreciative. It didn’t take me until maybe around high school to find my group of friends” Yuki chuckled, “though even with the stuff you’ve told me, I’ve seen from prancing around the hallways that you enjoy talking to people. Always smiling and waving to people, giving fistbumps to teachers, etc. The point is you gotta keep trying. You’ll never know what can happen with a little realistic optimism.

John began to smile. Smiling from those words of hope.

                                               ________

Kids once again swarmed the cafeteria fighting to get their seats. John walked into the cafeteria with a sandwich his mom made him. He slowly approached one of the tables. 

He felt a new aura in this already known place,  a place with less stress and anxiety. John walked to one of the tables he stopped in his tracks to notice something.

Wait. This guy is drawing Jotaro? A sudden smile appeared on John’s face. 

He slowly paced towards the table.

It was where a couple of guys were discussing something he was familiar with… anime. The knots his stomach tighten, brain thinking about the numerous what ifs of what could happen. Though all of that felt to slightly disappear. He began to open his mouth.

“Yo! Nice shirt.” 

“Thanks!” The boy replied.

“Do you mind if I sit here?”

The boy opened his mouth with a couple of other guys around him. 

“Sure.”

Sitting comfortably down, John felt the weight of his worries had gone away even just for this very moment.

All is well with the world…..

Alone

 Fresh starts and new beginnings come to my mind as I step out of our gray Honda with my brand new North Face backpack. My palms start to sweat and my throat begins to throb and ache as I hold back tears. I ponder on the fact that I will be starting my new life at Normane middle school. I slowly walk through the front door. My mind fills with thoughts and questions as I brace myself for what's to come.  Do you think they’ll like me? What if they think I'm weird? I’m scared… As I work up enough courage to allow myself to take those few steps into the building, I am immediately overwhelmed with the crowds of students rushing to get to their first period. Some run, some stop to socialize with their friends and some are loners. I hope that's not me. 

 I make my way to the office. Trying to hide the fear in my eyes as they hand me my schedule. I take a glance at it, scavenging for my first period. It's math. Math was my least favorite subject. I sucked at it. I always knew what the answer was, but never knew how to get to it. 

“Go up the staircase, take two rights and his classroom is on your left, room 103.” said the old lady sitting at the front desk. It’s like they think it's not my first day here, they don’t even point me in the right direction, they just send me on my way. I try to remember what the old lady said. Was it right and two lefts? Or two lefts and one right? I tried to look for a friend or someone to tell me where to go, but no one was there. As I finally made my way up to Mr David's math class and opened his squeaky bright blue door, I saw faces giving me looks, not welcoming looks, but disturbing looks. Their faces looked like someone had let out a huge fart and everyone was looking right at the culprit. I walk through the isles of desks while the students stare at me up and down, judging me from head to toe. Finding reasons to dislike me or make fun of me. Trying to think of all the possible reasons why these kids were giving me disgusting looks, Mr davids interrupts me.    

“Alright class this is our new student Lily Brown, I expect all of you to give her a warm welcome.” The class is silent for a few seconds, I stand there awkwardly and I find a random seat in the back of the class. A girl named Izzy taps me on the shoulder.

“Do you wanna sit with us?” it goes back to the normal noise level for the rest of the period. I gather my things, delighted that someone finally cares that I am the new kid. We work together for the rest of the period. As I left Mr David's class I felt way better than how I felt when I walked in. 

A few weeks passed by and nobody said a word to me. I was a loner. Nobody ever asked me to sit with them at lunch or hang out with them after school. People told me my new friend Izzy was really weird and that nobody liked her, so I stopped being friends with her, and I was too shy to go up to another person and ask them if they wanted to be my friend.Everything just felt empty and worthless.

 It was lunch and once again I sat at the corner table all by myself. I usually did my homework or read a chapter of a book, but I never talked to anyone, I just sat there. As I glanced up to get to scan the lunch room, a girl named Molly was walking in the direction of where I was sitting. Molly was the most popular girl in the school, all of the boys were obsessed with her and was perfect in everyone's eyes. Anyone would die to be friends with Molly shanker. Molly came over with a  devious grin on her face, like she was up to something, but I just ignored that. She blurted out as soon as we made eye contact

 “Do you wanna come sit with my friends and I?'' she said. At first I was confused. Molly wanted me to sit with her? She wanted me to come and sit with the most popular girls at the school? That's crazy. This was my dream, finally a friend group! Of course I agreed and we walked over. Her friends invited me to sit down right in the middle of the table. All of their lunches were packed from home and they had the whole grocery store laid out on this one table. They all laughed and giggled and gossiped and I just played along with it. Until “SPLAT” something was resting on my head, it was cold and slimy. I slowly creeped my finger to reach my scalp. It was tomato sauce. Molly and her friends had put tomato sauce all over my freshly washed hair. Why would she do such a thing? I glanced over at the rest of the lunch room. Looks were being given as people started to laugh and laugh. Molly and her friends looked at me like I was some pathetic person and began to laugh like the others. I began to feel hot and sweaty, it felt like I had a fever. As I began to fan myself, I felt light headed. My face was turning the color of the tomato sauce and my heart was beating out of my chest. This was humiliating.  I rushed myself out of there and hid in the bathroom for the rest of the day.  

For the next couple of days everyone called me “tomato face” and “sauce hair girl.”  I felt awful. I didn't want to talk to anyone, not even my parents. But I eventually started to feel nothing. I knew I had to do something. Everything was depressing and just not worth my time. 

It was tuesday and I got to school early, Izzy was roaming the halls just like I was. This is your chance Lily, Just go up to her and start a conversation, my mind was telling me. Why is this so hard? Why can’t I make friends? Screw it. I walk over to Izzy, she has a look on her face that makes me question what I’m doing is the right thing, but I do it anyway. 

“Hey, Izzy! Do you wanna walk together to math?” she nods and a smile begins to form on her face.  I did it. I finally did it. I advocated and pushed myself to make new friends. Even though it was a small conversation, It was progress. I was proud of myself. Life began to feel a little less empty and more fulfilled after that. I no longer felt alone.

Darkness

The darkness of the night seemed to loom over John, invisible hands clawed at his bedsheets- trying to get hold of him. Nothing could be heard but his ragged breathing, and a muffled thumping. He knew it had to be a heartbeat, but whose? He shivered and curled himself up into a ball, tightening his grip on his blanket. His eyes darted around- as if expecting to see something through the thin layer of armor he lay under. If anyone were to open the door- maybe out of curiosity- and look inside, all they would see was a trebling mess, covered in sheets. But John was alone, and that itself made his skin crawl.

He whispered to himself, “Everything is fine, I’m fine, it's all fine, there’s nothing there.”

Reassuring himself of his safety, calmed him down even if just a little. Slowly, as the shadows deepened, John’s breathing finally evened out. His chest rose and fell- and he fell into a deep sleep, free from his nightmares.

* * *

"I’m telling you I saw something last night,” John slammed the locker door shut, holding his binders close to his chest, “and it’s not like last time! I swear there was really something, or someone, in my room last night!”

Mike sighed, “Yeah, right. Two weeks ago, you heard noises from the cemetery and thought it was a ghost. Tuesday, you almost gave me a heart attack in the boy’s locker room!”

“It isn’t my fault that the construction on the other side of the wall sounded like huge footsteps. Anyone could have made that mistake!”

John grumbled and shuffled toward his first class of the day- Math. He nearly walked right past his class, but thankfully MIke was there to remind him. Mike had been his best friend since elementary school, when they had shared a tuna sandwich. He was also all too aware of the ‘things’ John supposedly witnessed.

As they reached room 228, Mike patted him on the shoulder, “You know, I could swear there was a phobia that matches you… it’s whatever. I need to go man, or else Señora will scold me for being late.”

He speedwalked down the long and crowded hall to his class, and John watched his figure get smaller, eventually disappearing behind the corner. He walked through the door and set down his things in the back row, taking out a #2 pencil for the warm up sheet. Calling me crazy- what an absurd thing to say.  

Throughout the rest of the day however, he would be distracted by last night. In the writing workshop in English, the Civics test on voting rights, his PB&J with apple juice for lunch. Not even his favorite period, PE, could get him out of his own mind. FInally, when the sun was high in the sky, and the halls were once more bustling with people, he still thought of that bone chilling moment. He shoved his binders, his countless French papers, and his Chromebook into the gaping maw of the backpack. Even this brought him discomfort. Closing the locker door, he quickly hurried out to the front, waiting for Mike and slumped against the rough brick wall. He would definitely get him back for this Monday.

* * *

Half an hour ago, John had run up the stairs after a dinner of piping hot lasagna, almost throwing himself onto his cozy bed. His room was full of posters of famous bands and movies. Action figures lined the shelves, the characters from G.I. Joe looked down at him. He’d rolled over and yawned, but reluctantly got up, stretching and groaning. He could barely keep his eyes open, but he had important things to do before he could take a break., taking out his homework, and getting to work solving for x. Now though, he slammed his head onto the table and mumbled to himself, “Do I really have to write a one paragraph essay on Napoleon Bonaparte?” He sighed, clearing his desk of all things French, and swore to himself that he would finish them later. John swiftly changed into a plain t-shirt and shorts, laying down under the covers and closing his eyes. He had almost drifted off, when it returned. It was quiet, and no sound was heard this time, but he could feel it all the same. Its creeping presence hidden in the shadows of his room. His eyes were wide, his breathing fast when he saw it. The figure of a man-beast next to the door, with four arms and dark silky fur. It was something that haunted the dreams of young children, and as the bright moon shone into John’s room, he cried out. The moon's light pierced through a crack in the blinds and towards the hideous beast, and its blank eyes glared at him. He jolted up and footsteps thundered toward his door, as he clenched his eyes shut.

His father threw open the door yelling, “What happened!?”

John looked around and wanted to scream, Don’t come in! The monster is here!, but when he looked around, huddled in the corner, it turned out there had been really nothing at all. What seemed to be a man with four arms had simply been his two coats, the eyes shining white buttons, and its fur the scarf he had gotten for last Christmas. John opened his mouth, as if to make an excuse but he stopped short. Would his father believe him? Well, too late for any reasonable excuse. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth.

“I’ve been seeing things- monsters- that don’t exist…”

* * *

John groaned, turning away from the light shining through the blinds. He yawned as slowly sat up, wishing he was back in bed. The sun welcomed him to Saturday, peeking over the horizon as its warm yellow rays bathed John in its radiance. Has the morning always looked this wonderful?

His father called out, “Bud, come down! Breakfast is ready!”

“Coming dad!”

He staggered down the stairs past the tiled kitchen into the dining room. He sat down at the medium sized wooden table, with an assortment of different chairs. There, a plate of toast and a boiled egg, along with a cup of milk waited for him. He leisurely finished his meal, and stood up still in his pajamas, and pushed open the front door. Walking down the porch, and stepping out onto his lawn still wet with morning dew, he breathed in- and out. He stood there for a while and just relaxed, more than he had the entire week. John took one last look behind him, and turned away making his way towards the open front door. He couldn’t keep his grin off his face.

Path to Greatness

I storm into my room and collapse on my soft bed with its usual Celtics sheets. My nostalgic MJ home screen always brings a smile to my face. I open the gmail app…

Dear Mr. Bill James,

MVP Academy wishes to welcome you to our prestigious athletic family. We hope you accept our full scholarship off in the coming days because athletic registration is ending soon. 

Best wishes,

Edward Slater

I hear someone pound on my door. “Bill are you in here?”

“Yes Mom.” I say it and after what feels like less than a second she speeds into the room.

“Did you do your homework?” 

She is always so focused on schoolwork. I steal a glance at my phone. Should I ask her about the scholarship?

“Yes I did all of my homework.”

“Great!” 

My pocket vibrates. I quickly check my phone and see Flynn has texted me. “Mom, My ride’s here.” 

“If you didn’t play so much basketball you would have more time to study,” she says dryly while checking her phone. I bolt out the door and hop into the car. I wish she could understand how I feel about basketball.

I look into Flynn’s fancy BMW. Before I can greet Flynn I see him with a grin on his face, and he quickly says, “So are you gonna go to MVP Academy?” Flynn has been pestering me for weeks about this, ever since we both received scholarship offers. 

“I’m waiting for my parents to confirm.” I instantly notice a mood swing in Flynn. I really want to go to MVP Academy, and I think Flynn knows that. He’s just lucky his parents are proud of him for getting such a great opportunity. 

Flynn’s dad says, “Bill, you should really talk to your parents. I just signed Flynn up and registration ends in just under two weeks.” I look at the driver's seat and think why couldn't my parents be like Flynn’s? I know I can’t say anything because the last thing I want is for my parents to think I care more about basketball than studying. 

***

I pull my Kobe Grinch basketball shoes slowly out of my bag. The dream shoe reminds me of how successful I could be in the future. I earned a cash prize from a tourney to get enough money for these. While walking onto the pristine pine wood court I begin to think back to my parents. The whistle sharply blows, snapping me out of my thinking. The Wilson Evolution is up and I jump to grab it. I grab the ball and get into triple threat. I take it into the lane and take a layup. It taps off the backboard, bounces off the rim and rolls out. I will bet anything people on other courts could hear my coach after that! When I get back on defense I look into the stands and see my dad on his MacBook. It’s hard to believe he finally comes to one of my games, but doesn’t want to watch. A switch flips. I begin to cook the other team. In the beginning of the second half, I dribble up the court.

POUND!

POUND!

I soar through the air and dunk on someone. I call him little and use the “you’re little” hand gesture. I see my teammates' jaws drop! I realize I never usually taunt. Taking one final look at my father, I see him now on a call instead of being on his laptop. Apparently he doesn’t care about the game at all. I keep playing great and the game flies by. Soon the game ends and I say all of the necessary “good games” and thank the refs. 

I finish putting my shoes in my bag and grab my Gatorade bottle. I see my dad waiting for me. So I guess now he has time for me. Before I can get to my dad I hear a deep voice say, “Good job kid. Your name is Bill right?” I turn around and see an athletic man who is around 6 '4'’ holding a clipboard. My jaw drops when I notice he is wearing a Duke hat and a corresponding Duke Nike Tech. 

“Yeah that’s me.”

“I noticed you do great on the court. Will you be attending a prep school next year? If so, I'd love to see you play.”

“I might, it depends.” 

“Well I think you should. Maybe you could eventually come to Duke. You’ve definitely got the potential.”

“Re-really.”

“Yeah, definitely.”

“Thanks a lot.” I walk away and attempt to process what just happened. A Duke scout just said I could be great! I guess he’s right, I can make it far in this game. My muscles become less tense as I walk over to my Dad. 

“Can I talk to you and Mom when we get home? It’s about MVP Academy.” His head jerks back and he takes a second to respond, not his usual quick personality.

“Al-Alright we can talk when we get home, but you know how your mother and I feel about basketball,” he slowly says.

“About time,” I mutter under my breath. We get in the car and the ride is a blur. I just think about how many cars I’ll buy when I make the NBA. Or maybe NIL deals. But first I gotta face my parents. 

My dad and I walk into the house at a quick pace. “Mom! Can you come downstairs? We all need to talk.” She leisurely walks down the stairs. 

“What is it BIll?”

“Can you both please let me go to MVP academy?” I see her eyes fire up. My dad seems more calm and he begins to talk, but I abruptly cut him off. “I earned my way into a great school by playing basketball. I deserve to go. I promise I’ll work just as hard in class as I do on the court.” I begin to notice both of their expressions change. They look at each other and whisper for what feels like an hour. They start to nod. I think they’ll say yes!

She says, “We didn’t realize that you felt so strongly about MVP Academy. We’ll let you go as long as you promise to do your best in class and on the court.” A smile creeps up and onto my face. I not only get to go, but I finally stood up for myself!

“I promise!”

I’ll Live to See Another Day

“Hey! Give that back!” I crossed my arms. Jenny lets out a laugh. 

“It's mine now, whether you like it or not!”

I couldn’t hide my grin as I reached for the pink box, “Come on Jen!. Give it back!” Finally, she released the box into my hands, still laughing. 

“Yeah, that’s right! Listen to your elders, little one,” Patting her on her head, I hugged the box tight to my chest. 

“How bout a ‘thank you’?” 

Sweet as sugar, I smiled, making sure to show all my teeth, “Thank you!” 

It’s been a running joke between us to take each other's gifts at every occasion, Christmas gifts, birthday presents, Halloween candy, even the little cards with paper hearts we’re forced to give out every Valentines Day. How long has this tradition been going on?  I was lost in thought, retracing the years to find the origin. Then I jolted upward.

“I THOUGHT YOU BOUGHT THE CAKE!” Mom’s voice screamed.

“YOU NEVER TOLD ME TO! HOW WAS I SUPPOSED TO KNOW?!” Dad’s voice yelled back.

“You always do this, Tom. I told you last week.”

“How am I supposed to remember that? You should have reminded me.”

“Oh? So it’s my job to remind you about our  daughter? Is it that you don’t care enough then?”

“That’s not what I said.”

Mom went stiff as she guided dad to the kitchen. Her glare seared through his head.  Good luck Dad.

“Do your parents do that often?”

I jumped, glancing back to see a hand on my shoulder. “Whadya say, Jen?”

“Do your parents do that often.”  She didn’t say it like a question.

“No, kinda, I don’t know. Why does it matter? It’s not like parents don’t have fights once in a while.”

“I mean, that sounded like a pretty bad fight thou-”

“I promise they’re totally in love. Plus, it doesn’t have anything to do with you.”

Jenny blinked. Then just stared at me, her eyes squinted

“Kim, can we go to your room?”

“Huh? Why?” I stared blankly, I was not expecting that. “I already explained and I really wanna keep celebrating! I mean, you don’t turn 12 every day. Plus, my mom said it was my diamond  birthday.”  I made sure to emphasize diamond.

“What does that even mean? Diamond birthday?” Jenny questioned, eyes losing their squint.

“Honestly, I don’t know, but let's get back to the party!” I slipped my hand into hers.

“Promise me we’ll talk tomorrow though?” She asked, still determined.

“I promise.” I let go of her hand, held out my pinky. She understood. We looped fingers. Shaked. Thumbs pressed together as we walked back to the party. I asked myself why she wanted to talk.        

__________                        

As I dragged myself into my room, my steps grew heavy as the excitement of my 12th birthday party wore thin. I just had a perfect day. Well, except for the fact I had asked for a chocolate cake, not strawberry. It kind of looked like it had been a dog’s chew toy before my party.  Lifting my head slightly, I took in the view of the plush, pink comfort of my bed, now about to consume a girl with droopy eyes. Plus, dad walked out halfway through the party. What’up with that?  “What time is it?” I asked out loud, holding in a yawn. I searched through the giant poster board, scraps of paper, and markers of every color to find my alarm clock.  “Gotta finish that..” I muttered, I had a project due tuesday. Mom was also weird. She made me go grab something and hid in her room for the rest of the party. Spotting the time, I gasped audibly.

11:47.

I still have school tomorrow! Plus, when did it get that late?  I have a habit of always being either super early or super late. Forget showering, I thought to myself as I crawled into bed. Still, I had a fun time with Jenny. And the party was amazing, everything was on point! Well, except for that cake. And dad. And mom. 

__________

“AHH!” A scream escaped my lips. What’s happening?  I dodged a living tree branch. A 3 eyed, purple creature leaped at me, black goo oozing out of its mouth. Something grabbed me and closed around my head. Another scream. 

I  gasped for air, tears streaming from my eyes, a steady current. Past my blurry vision, I could see something pink. My bed?  I’d somehow woken up in my bedroom, holding my beating heart. In a zombie-like state, I floated to my door, only to stop, my nightmare flooding back to me. What’s that sound?

“Can’t you wash the dishes? I’m so tired. I just had a full day of work, you know?” I heard my dad’s voice.

“Excuse me? You think I’m not tired? I take care of this house, our daughter, and you. And I’m working part time because money is tight. Yet you never acknowledge anything I do!”

“Is it really that hard? I’m not saying you do nothing. Thank you for what you do, but if you are so insistent you do everything around the house, then you should just do it and not ask me for help!”

“Are you trying to get divorced? Your own daughter does more than you around here! Is that not-”

I closed my door softly, eyes squeezed shut as a single crystal escaped down my cheek.

Do your parents do that often?

Jenny’s words echoed in my head as I buried my tear streaked face into my pillow, wishing to be put back in that nightmare with the monster. Because the one I was living in now was worse.

__________

“Kim!” Jenny rushed over to me.

“Hey, Jen! It sucks that we don’t have any classes together. I didn’t talk to you all day.”

“At least we're neighbors right? Being able to bug you anytime I want is worth it,” Jenny poked my right arm.

“Woooooow..” I poked her back, a playful smile spreading onto my face. It stopped when I glanced back at Jenny.

“Kim,” Jenny’s eyes were suddenly serious, “Let’s talk.” So she isn’t going to give up.  

“Fine but let’s head to your house first, this talk calls for comfy beanbags and barbecue chips.”

Jen inched open her door and motioned softly for me to sit. I plopped down onto the yellow bean bag.

“Last night I woke up and heard my parents fighting. It was about dishes but then they started arguing about something else. I didn’t really understand what though,” I stopped to munch on a chip.

“I couldn’t stand to listen any longer so I didn’t hear the whole conversation…” I said, making myself look up at Jenny, acting nonchalant. Uh oh. She was looking at me all squinty again except this squint was a lot easier to read. She doesn’t believe me.

“Tell me the truth Kim, I know you.” Jenny’s gaze pierced through my own and I gulped. Just tell the truth Kim.

I forced the words out, “I thought about what you said Jen.” I sniffled, opening my eyes wide to hold in my tears.

“They’ve been like that a lot recently. It’s always for little things, but then it turns into massive fights.”

My mouth was trembling. I felt an arm around me and a voice reached out to me.

“It’s okay, just let it all out.”

I listened to the voice. I sobbed until I had no tears left in my body. Till every bone was shaking as I wiped my runny nose. Finally, I let myself smile, a feeling of acceptance rushed through my shivering bones. I knew no matter what happened, even if something went wrong, I would have someone. I could be okay. 

Izn Ali

11/7/2023

B block

Space Betrayal

Nothing had happened for the past 7 years on the Izn Earth Station 54 (IES54). Not since the other family had moved out, at least. The bleak gray walls of the complex had stayed the same for eternity, and the floor had been the same. Well, Pingu didn’t really know which side was the floor and which wasn’t, but he knew that he wasn’t happy here. His family had moved into the IES54 about 7 years ago, a year and a half after Pingu was taken from the adoption center. He couldn’t remember any of his memories from an actual planet. He trusted, though, that coming here was the right thing to do. After all, his parents had made the decision. And he could always look out the window.

“So, uh, Dad … ? You still haven’t answered my question. Are we going back to Earth?” His father looked up from his floating cup of coffee, eyebrows furrowed. “I told you already; enough about this topic! We are not going back to Earth!” 

“But why?”

“I’ve told you many times. We are lucky to be up here! Nobody would ever survive down there. Too much gravity and —” his father stopped himself before revealing more.

”And what? Tell me!” Pingu’s eyes were like laser beams at his father.

 “Children shouldn’t be involved with politics, son,” his father said with a frown. Pingu’s mind raced faster than the IES they were traveling in. He believed what his father said but couldn’t completely stifle his curiosity. He tried to think about what they had escaped from. He asked again. But even still, no response came. Later, at night, Pingu thought in his bed about what his father had said. What did we escape from? Wait! I have stuff like this written down in the diary! But where is it? He thought about that. He pulled up all his memory capacity and thought, but eventually, exhaustion took over and Pingu finally went to sleep. 

The next day at the breakfast table, Pingu asked again about Earth and the issue his father had refused to share about. Pingu’s father left for the small living room, a don’t question me look on his face. “Ugh! Just tell me!” Annoyed, Pingu munched on his breakfast. That calmed him a bit. He decided to try to connect evidence from yesterday and the stuff in the diary he’d tried to find. 

Pingu was playing Minecraft, when all of a sudden, the oxygen alarm started blaring. Wait, what? Pingu sat there stunned. The creak of the floorboards beneath him brought him back to the moment. He jumped up and ran to the door. Pingu rushed downstairs with a panicked look on his face. Too fast… I’m gonna fall!! He saw the ground rushing towards him. And then he was jerked back. The SuperStick slime on the wall had pulled him back. “OWW!! My arm! But… Phew!! Wait… Oh, shoot! NOOOOOO!!!!” He screamed as he remembered that it was almost impossible to get that stuff off. He smelled his sweat and adrenaline. He felt as if he would die. The air wasn’t coming to him. He pulled and pulled and pulled. Suddenly, he crashed to the ground. He felt the little remaining air in him get knocked out, but he also felt new air coming faster. He scrambled to his feet and ran to the wardrobe. Why does it hurt so BAD?! The closet only had regular clothes and the strap suit. No space suits. They’ve gone to fix the Oxygen Reproducer! Phew! Pingu relaxed as he looked around for his parents. “They’ve gone to save me!” He let out a loud whoop. Pingu was going to be safe, but his arm pulsed wildly. “Any moment now, they’ll return and they’ll have fixed the issue,” He smelled the pancakes on the stove. “Ooh, meatloaf!” He went to the table with it. He took a bite. “OMM!! SO GOOD!!!” he said as he bit into the gooey softness. Then he decided to look out the window. The weird thing was, his parents weren’t at the oxygen recycler. They were at the hangar! Were they trying to escape without Pingu? He dropped the plate, running to the door, panic closing up his throat. “WAIT!!!!!” Pingu yelled at the top of his lungs. He knew very well that they couldn’t hear him. “WAIT FOR ME!!! DON’T LEAVE ME BEHIND!!!!”

Pingu grabbed the strap suit and put it on. He opened the airlock and jumped for his life. He could feel it getting hotter and he could smell the fresh, unused fabric, infused with his sweat. He was also running out of oxygen. His face was getting redder by the second. His hurt arm started to pulse wildly. “Ughhhhh!” Pingu could feel his muscles getting heavier. He drank all his air out of fear. The suit looked as if it was painted with blood. Pingu had never experienced this before. He felt the panic. He saw himself slipping away. He thought of all the times he had ever done something that had risked his life. This was, by far, the worst. And then, like magic, he lost all feeling in his body. “Is this what death feels like?” He floated in the air a little and finally closed his eyes. He’d lost the battle. He drifted through the empty space, nothing to stop him. Darkness all around. It all happened too fast. But, there was a small light. Oh, that’s heaven? Let there be light! And there was light!* Whaaa?? And then he was jerked back to reality. “HUUU! HUU HUGGHGH HUGHHHHHHH!” He could breathe now! He could also now feel the pain. It was agony! His limbs burned. “OWWWWWWW!!!” He sucked up huge gulps of that fresh oxygen. It hurt like fire with every breath. “Oh, Dear LORD!!!” He thought he would surely have died. His arm felt totally dead. Pingu looked at his savior. Then he saw who it was. He looked up at the space suit with a bewildered expression. “Wait…. You … HOW COULD YOU LEAVE ME BEHIND?!?!” His face was turning red again, and he kicked away, pushing at the person behind the helmet with such force, the jetpack took seconds to stabilize the speed. He flew very fast and crashed into the IES54 spaceship. All the breath was knocked out of him. He felt as if someone had whacked him with a baseball bat. Through a haze of adrenaline and a possible concussion, he managed to open the door and left them with only the IES54 Lander Module to get to Earth. He flew off at full throttle. “Wait, hey Pingu! Please come back! Come back!! You don’t know how to fly it! We are scared for your safety!!”

“I know you’re not. I can use the GPS! You just want to SURVIVE!! DID YOU THINK I WOULDN’T?!?!

“Come on, Pingu, please! COME BACK!!”

“No! Use the lander!”

“Please, COME BA —” Pingu shut off the radio. “Ugh! So annoying! GPS, activate!”

“Please enter your destination.”

“Um… Oh! The town directly below the IES54.”

Destination found. Calculating course,” the GPS said as Pingu pushed back and chilled. “Pitch 60 degrees.”

“Wait, what? Aren’t you supposed to do that? Didn't you calculate the safest course? Do I really have to?”

“Driving is a smart precaution. You are not obligated to, but you should.”

“No! Go away!” Pingu whacked the GPS start/stop button. “You cannot get rid of me by tapping the button. Use the Instruction Manual, but I am here to help you, so y —” 

“I DON’T THINK SO, YOU SUSSY BAKA!!” He shut the GPS and muttered, “I can do this myself. I think… probably?” The steering wheel was the same as in MInecraft, so he used it with mild difficulty.

“KHHKHKKHH” went the radio. 

“What? Who’s there?” asked Pingu.

“OH! It WORKED! Pingu, it’s us! Come ba —”

“HOW THE DUCK DID YOU USE RADIO?!? I TURNED IT OFF!!”

“Please come back!”

“Oh, GOODBYE!” PIngu switched off all power except for the oxygen generator and landing assistant. He knew he’d have to fend for himself on Earth. But the rest of the journey was uneventful as he restlessly slept with the dream of being thrown to Sagittarius A* for not trusting the ruler of the universe.

*Genesis 1:3-10

m&ms

The sun casts a green glow through the leaves in the trees off of Newbury Street onto the pavement. Giving my morning a floaty feeling. The cat hat market, my destination, on the corner, which hugs the little boutiques on either side, should have my usual fudge m and m’s. I pick up my pace and walk into the market, the swing of the door triggers a cow bell hanging from the long black framed door, hidden by the many posters advertising babysitting and a variety of jobs. 

“Hey Samantha,” nodded Mr. Barlow. 

The inside was as if you were in a trojan horse, or a log cabin. The whole room was paneled in wood with an exception of the counter which the hefty register sat on, and the shelves in each aisle. 

Mr. Barlow had been working here for 20 years and should be on his way towards retirement. He was balding, wearing a blue and white striped t-shirt and his brown hair had slowly turned gray over the many years I had come in and had my casual conversations. 

“Hi Mr. Barlow, how's Louis doing?” 

Louis had gone on a chase after the neighborhood rabbits and gotten into a little scrape up causing most of the neighborhood to worry, as Louis was very valued and received many pets on his daily walks. 

“Oh yes, Melissa brought him in yesterday and the doctor said he’s doing just fine,” he said, picking up two mystery boxes and bringing them around the back of the faded counter, laying them on the ground with a thud. 

 Melissa was the topic of gossip between my mom and dad. Sometimes her strong opinions got in the way of my mom and how she arranges her tomatoes and squash in the garden. 

“Good good,” I walked over to the candy aisle and looked at the various options of candy, scouring for that purple bag.  

I picked up the purple bag which sat above some chips engulfed in Japanese writing. I note the image of an onion and a tomato and look at the other options, each with a different sort of vegetable.  Either way, chips are messy especially when I'm eating them. Along the back wall of the market, the wall was lined with bookshelves filled with mystery books and various true crime cases. Mr. Barlow is all for stories about gruesome murders and people dismembering each other. I’m almost certain they are for sale. But then again, not many people are fascinated by those topics.

 I think he notices me observing his books and says,“You know you can borrow one of those.”

I gaze over the many titles, eying the ones with vibrant colors. “Never judge a book by its   cover” is not my motto. I think a change from my typical romance book might be due. 

“I’ll take a look!” I shout so he can hear me. 

I close my eyes and run my hands along the spines of the books feeling for one I might like, and hoping I don’t run face first into the wall. After a second or two, I come to a sudden halt, open my eyes, and find my fingers touching a dark black book with flicks of gold. Written in small letters at the top is “ Green Lakes”, written by an Emily who’s last name I can’t pronounce. I read the back. It’s about a woman and her sister who kills her husband and her family and leaves them in the middle of a lake, leaving the woman to solve the puzzle. I look at my decision and hope fate didn’t let me down.

“We also have some new chips back there which you might have noticed. I tried some yesterday and they are quite good. I recommend the duck flavor,” Mr. Barlow said as he attended a customer.

My mom tried duck rice once, she said that it was good but the rice was crunchy and made her jaw hurt. I looked down at the counter at my m&m’s. I know exactly what will happen, from the second I open the bag, to the last m&m I drop into my mouth.  I grip the book and walk back over to the chips. I stop and look at him with a tense face. I think he's confused at why I'm just standing there. The expression on his face looks as if I'm a 5 year old that can’t reach the top shelf and he had just sat down to take a long nap. 

“I think a change would be good. Having duck dust instead of chocolate on your fingers,” he looked at me. 

I couldn’t read his expression anymore, a cross between sad and hopeful. It almost made me wish I had just gone to the nearest CVS instead, their fudge m and ms more expensive, but without the touch of awkwardness.

 “Ok. I’ll try them,” I said.

 He smiled and I felt a small grin on my face. Partly because it made him happy and partly because maybe the chips would taste like mushrooms, maybe they would be purple or maybe I would just end up throwing them out right when I leave. The last one is a real possibility, but I doubt the first two would become true. 

“I knew you would say that,”he said. 

I picked them up off the shelf and shuffled my feet over to the counter. My white Converse are now brown and the star is peeling off. I need new shoes. Another adventure for another day. I place my chips and book on the counter as he pushes some buttons which make a clicking sound that tickles my brain. 

 “I’m honestly kind of excited,” I said, “Maybe they will be my new favorite.” 

I take out my crumpled five dollar bill and smooth it out on the counter, each crease fades every time my hand runs over it.

 “I really hope you like these,” he said. 

I give him my new and improved bill and grab my chips. 

“Me too. Have a nice day.”

“You too. Say hi to your brother for me”

“I will,” I opened the door for the second time that day, this time carrying two new items. 

I round the corner and walk toward the little grass square in between where my bus stop is and where we go to buy our lemon-lime popsicles in the summer. There is a big wooden bench that I sit on which will give you splinters if you're wearing shorts. I sit down and watch as people drive by. I look at the bag of chips and study the colors. The bag is orange and the font is colored in a bright pink. I trust Mr. Barlow and I hope his taste in chips is somewhat similar to mine so I don’t have to go back there next week and pretend to have liked them… or disappoint him. I open up the bag and smell it before I pop one into my mouth, the new scent fills my nostrils. It's almost tangy, but in a good way. It’s very bizarre but I want to eat more. I compare them to my m and m’s. They are two completely different things. I honestly wished for something more but I don’t know what I was expecting. I got what I wanted. I feel a flutter of uncertainty. I sit and watch the cars drive by, chewing on my chips and reading my latest novel. 

Not Little Ms. Perfect

An irritating ring climbs into my ear. Great, I thought to myself. Another day of hell. I roll out of bed, my icicle-like feet feel around for the rug. I peer over to my desk, eyes half open. I walk over and feel for my seat with the blinding phone light in my hand. I sit down and check the time. The lights burning my eyes, the screaming outline of a 7:50 catch my eye. “Oh shoot” I whispered, “Late again.” I turn my desk vanity light on. I grab my mascara and start brushing my lashes into chunks. This cannot be happening. Sound of footsteps comes by as a figure stands at my doorway.

 “Oh great, its little miss perfect,” I say as my sister all dressed and ready in her brand new nike kicks and perfect legging legs. 

“Late again huh?” she said in a kind way yet I know dang well was her coldside. 

“Shut up and let me finish.” 

I hear more footsteps coming by the door. My parents join my sister by the door. “Hurry up you’re going to be late,” my mother yells with her designated hate stare.

 I gather some make up into a bag and grab the first okay looking outfit in my closet. I walk over to meet my mom in the car with her disappointed look. I’m not ready for another lecture this morning like last week. Yet once I open the door she bursts. I get piled with questions,“Why are you always late? Why can’t you be more like your sister?” 

I gave her a disgusted look so she knows im not ready for this conversation yet again. 

“You know if you were more like your sister you would never be late for anything. I bet its that stupid phone of yours you probably use to do stupid stuff instead of studying,” She says glairing at me. 

“Mom, I dont want to talk about this right now can you please just leave me alone?” 

I finish up getting ready and she drops me off at the bus to hell. I wait for another 5 minutes. The yellow flights from down the hill peer from the corner. Turns out im not late at all. I hop on the bus and find a seat in the back on my way to school. 

I speed over to my locker after I hop off the bus. I gather up all my things when I see my friend walk over. 

“You look happy this morning.” she says to me. I can hear the sarcasm in her voice. 

“Haha very funny,” I say, giving her a look. I open my locker and look at my schedule. I scan thrugh the schedule looking for day 1. I gently run my finger down the paper looking for first block, math. My friend walks away. I grab my purple  binder. Suddenly the bell rings. I'm late. I run over to my class and walk through the door sneakily. He doesn’t notice im late. I crept into my seat.
“Today we are getting our tests back,” Mr. Harriss says in his deep voice. He slaps it onto my desk. “Maybe you should get some notes from your sister, she was great in my class.” 

I look at him with an unsettling look. My stomach twists a tad. Another day of being compared. I got through the day with many classes. 

Tears formed in my eyes. I get on the bus to head home. I scrunch down in my seat and watched the trees from out the window waiting for my stop to come. The screaming voices of childrens screams climb up into my ear. 

I walk through the front door, hiding  my face walking through the hall hoping no one will say anything. My face sticky and salty with tears. I walk up the stairs passed my sisters room. 

“Hey Ashlyn what's up, are you okay? I am here if you wanna talk you  know,” she asks with a worried look on her face. 

I drag my feet across the fuzzy carpet and plop myself on her bed. 

“So, tell me what's up,” she says. 

I look to the floor then slowly scan her body, “Everyone keeps telling me I should be more like you, especially mom and dad and I just don’t know what to do. I feel like I’m not good enough.” 

“ Aww Ashlyn I didn’t know you felt that way. I know how you feel. When I was your age, I was always compared to the other girls in my classes and around town. I just remind myself, I am the best version of myself. Some people start on high grounds but others have to build up alright? I love you feel better,” she says to me. 

“Thanks sis.” The sides of my mouth fold up into a smile. 

I leave my sisters room thinking about the words she left in my head. I go through the rest of my day, the thoughts still stuck in my head. 

___

The next morning I wake up to the sound of my alarm yet again but something felt different. I didn’t feel tension of anyone coming out to call me out and compare me. I simply just felt the need to be myself happily. I drag my feet on the ground on my way out and pass my sister. She looks at me and smiles. 

Splash

The hotel room is as messy as can be. Clothes everywhere, makeup spread out all over the bathroom counter, and Taylor Swift playing in the background while we rush to get ready for dinner. The setting Cabo sun beams through the window, so we’ve cranked the air conditioning to full blast as we try to recover from a long day on the beach. 

“Today was the best!” Nicole squeals, attempting to straighten the back of her hair.

“I literally can’t wait for tomorrow. I’m so excited we still have a week left!” I flop onto the bed. We have been planning this trip since we were 15 years old and so far, it has been everything we dreamed of. 

Sydney looks up from painting her nails, “Do we have a plan for tomorrow?” 

“I think we should spend the day at the beach again, go shopping and have dinner somewhere nice.” 

“But we already did that today. Maybe we should go scuba diving? I saw a sign about it on the lifeguard shack today and it seems like fun!” I stand and start looking for my phone to show them the photo of the sign. Nicole and Sydney clap in approval, but I look at Jamie and know something is wrong.
“Jamie, are you okay?” Sydney asks, concern flashing in her eyes.

“I don’t really want to go scuba diving. What if something bad happens?” Jamie responds while darting her eyes at everything in the room besides us. 

“Jamie please, it will be fun, don't be so dramatic. I’ve done much scarier things than this and I survived.” I roll my eyes and scroll through my phone.

________

Sydney claps her hands together, “Ok girls, so what is the plan for tomorrow?”

“We really have to go scuba diving!” I eye Jamie. “Please?”

“I just don’t feel like it's very safe.” 

“Don’t worry - we’ll all be together and have a great time!” Nicole bumps Jamie with her shoulder. 

“Jamie, don't be such a baby. We have been planning this trip forever, and we need to do things to make it memorable!” I look at Jamie, trying to make eye contact with her.

“Okay, fine- we can go. But don’t say I didn’t warn you if something bad happens!” she sighs, finally looking me in the eyes. 

“Whatever you say.” I tell her, sarcastically drawing out the last word. 

_____

“Okay guys I’m getting four tickets for scuba diving” Nicole says, her smile stretched wide.

“Yay!” I exclaim, “This is going to be so much fun!”

“You know what guys?” Jamie looks at us through her sunglasses, “I actually am excited, I’ve never done anything like this before!” 

“Good! I knew you would eventually come to your senses.” I say, half teasingly, half annoyed. “Don’t worry about anything!” 

“Thanks guys, I know. I’ll still be on the lookout for any danger, though.” She giggles, but I can hear the doubt echoing through her voice.

“You’ll be too busy having a blast! Nothing bad will happen - we will have the best stories to tell!” At least I hope so.

_____

“CANNONBALL!” I grab my legs and jump in, instantly feeling the cold water on my skin. Under the surface I see the gorgeous scenery of fish and coral under the sparkling blue water. 

“Jamie,” I ask, while treading water, “are you having fun?” 

“Yes!” She swims closer to me, “thank you for making me do this.” She reaches over and hugs me.

“Of course! You always need friends to push you out of your comfort zone!” I chuckle while playfully dunking her head in the water.

_____

“EVERYONE ON THE BOAT!” I faintly hear the captain yelling from the boat a few yards away. I’m too far away to hear why, and all my friends are up on the boat.

“Katie swim back!” Sydney screams, frantically waving her arms over her head, “There's a shark!” 

That yell is loud and clear enough for me to hear; I gasp, and look underneath me, trying to remain calm. 

“Just… SWIM!” All the alarmed voices coming from the boat are echoing around me. 

Oh my God, I am going to die. I don’t know how I’m managing to move right now, but somehow I’m swimming as fast as I can. 

_____

“SWIM TO THE BOAT KATIE! SWIM!” Panic echoes through Nicole's voice. 

It's either swim or be food Katie. I keep my focus on the boat; I don’t dare look back.

I desperately grasp for the boat ladder, pulling myself up even though I can’t feel my arms.
“Oh my God,” Jamie’s hand covers her mouth, “that was so scary.” 

I’m immediately ushered to a seat on the boat, and soon my friends are sitting next to me, throwing towels around my shoulders and hugging me tightly.

“Katie,” Sydney whispers when the others finally let me go, “are you really okay?” 

“Um… what kind of question is that Syd?” Nicole looks at her, eyes wide.

I’m ready to shout out all the reasons why I am not okay, but I feel Jamie’s eyes burning into the back of my head from the other side of the boat, and I hold it all back. 

“I’m fine.” My voice cracks as I think about what just happened.

_______

“Ok passengers, we are ready for take off.” The plane's intercom clicks off with the final announcement.

I watch Jamie as she looks out the window, her eyebrows creased together. I squeeze her hands and she turns to look at me. 

“I know the chances of something happening are low, but I’m still nervous.” This time, I tell her I understand, not a hint of questioning in my voice. Jamie flashes me a soft smile, and leans her head on my shoulder.

The Dream Eater

I got out of bed and made breakfast for myself. I turn on the radio and sit in my broken chair, eating while listening to the news in my broken house.

“Mortality rates are at an all-time high, The Dream Eater is getting more aggressive. What is he doing?” The radio said.

It's my enemy,  The Dream Eater. Even though I don’t know him, neither does he, I think we would have an amazing battle. I will still win though, I have a 100% win rate, so he is no match to me.

What is The Dream Eater you're asking, well 100 years ago the human race was thriving, but one day an alien flew to our world and began to kill people. It killed people by putting them to sleep and eating their dreams. Just to torture us. No one can kill it because it's so powerful and its destruction turned the world into ruins. Now everything is broken down and crumbling.

But this all changes now, I will kill The Dream Eater and save the world. Everyone will be thanking me and I will be a hero.

How I hear you asking? Well, you may not know this but I am a skilled fighter. I can use my pocket knife like a sword and can burn my opponent alive.

I started to plan how I was going to get to The Dream Eater. Then it hit me, I could just lure The Dream Eater to me using a sleeping person and then fight it. But who was I gonna lure? I sat pondering until I figured it out.

I went to my little brother, Beans, and decided to do him a favor.

“Hey, Beans."

“What?”

“You wanna go outside and camp?”

“What about The Dream Eater?”

“Don’t worry about it, I already took care of him."

“How?”

“I just did."

--------

Outside, we made our tent. It was so dark outside that I kept tripping over rocks. The only light I had was the moon. I waited until my brother slept and then, I lit a torch to help me see better. After that, I started preparing for my fight. 

I waited forever until I heard a noise. It was eerie, so I started going towards it, but then I saw The Dream Eater.

I panicked and grabbed my knife. I focused on him, recoiling my arm, and threw it, but it just went through his body. He noticed me and started to lift the ground, making a battlefield for us to fight In the air.

Oh no, he might be more powerful than I thought.

“I will kill you!” I screamed. He looked amused, not knowing my true power.

“Let's see you try. No one can beat me. I have a 100% win rate." He said calmly in a dark voice. 

“Well, this will be your first loss.” 

He then picked up a chunk of the ground and threw it at me. Damn it, I thought he would be afraid of me.

I was able to dodge but I was starting to think that I should run away, but it was too late. The Dream Eater created a beam of black fire and shot it right at me. It was too fast and when it hit It was painful. I had burns everywhere and it hurt every time I moved. 

I ignored the pain and took a can of hairspray and sprayed it at him. I then lit the gas on fire. Making a magical display of fire and another burned opponent. I won.

Or so I thought.

The Dream Eater rose back up Angrier than before. He started to charge an attack, so I took another can of hairspray and lit the can on fire, creating a bomb. Then I threw it at him, with the bottle exploding creating a powerful explosion but he seemed unfazed. He then launched his attack. It was a pulse of darkness that shot at me. It missed me and hit the ground, causing rocks and dirt to fly up. He then began charging another pulse.

But I had one last trick up my sleeve. In my pocket was a taser that I was holding on to before he levitated us off the ground. I ran towards him and pulled the trigger which electrocuted him with blinding rays of electricity.

He screamed in pain and shot his attack at me. I hid behind a boulder but the beam destroyed the boulder and hit me. It felt like I was hit by a truck. I could feel my bones breaking and my blood spilling out of me. 

I was unable to move due to pain and The Dream Eater put a powder on me. Then everything went black.

I seemed to be sleeping, I was dreaming about my fame after killing The Dream Eater but then I felt an excruciating pain. I knew it, my dream was being eaten but I could not do anything. It felt like there was a black hole inside my head, sucking everything up. Then I saw him.

“I was thinking about how to kill you but then I decided that you have to beg me to spare your life in order to not kill you. Now you can remember the pain of me being your opponent and be fearful of my power forever. Ha! You thought I would die, and you would be a hero. No, I'm invincible. I will live forever and end the human race."

Oh, how annoying, I thought he would be the one begging me. I am so disappointed in myself. I got down on my knees and begged for mercy while he kept laughing. I wish I could torture him.

--------

Then I woke up, still in pain. I seem to be in a hospital. I saw Beans standing next to me.

“Don’t do that ever again," He said sternly. “I thought you were going to die. When I saw you unconscious on the ground I figured you fought The Dream Eater. ”

“I guess so." 

My attempt at killing The Dream Eater was not successful. It was not worth the pain and emotional damage while fighting him. 

Even though The Dream Eater still lurks around, one day he will die. Even though I will not be the one to kill him. Someone else stupid enough will. I’ll just have to wait.

“WHAT ON EARTH DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING!!!” Quartz Rogue, the leader of the supers, boomed. Leroy jumped up vigorously and nearly tripped over the scraps of metal. 

“I’m sorry sir, Quartz Rogue, it wasn’t in my intention to—”

“Of course it wasn’t. What were you thinking! Daydreaming during the test results!”

Leroy glanced down slowly, avoiding his menacing stare.

“I want everything completed for this test run by the end of the day as well as our updated bullet proof armor for our suits. You hear me! Now get back to work, or I will fire you!” he snapped, as he stormed away shaking his head in disappointment.

Leroy knew they wouldn’t. In fact, they couldn’t, since he was positive that they needed him no matter what. His hands balled up into fists and his teeth grinded together as his head turned a deep red. His mouth was like a loaded cannon, ready to fire in the next second, the next, and the next, and the next. But, the spark was gone and all that came out was a big, depressing, sigh. Leroy’s so-called “daydreaming” was the act of him complementing the error that had occurred in the design, which none of his colleagues thought to correct. Speaking of colleagues, Professor Corag, strolled up with a cold smirk on that plump face of his.

“If you mess everything up, all of our careers are over! Do you want that!? he exclaimed, raising his arms for effect. Of course, Leroy flinched without hesitation, making himself look bad in front of everyone.

“That’s what I thought,” he snickered.

And it was like this everyday forward, where he was a drain, catching in all the stress and insults, flowing in like rain from the dark clouds of those superheroes who act as if they are trying to save the world. But no one knows who they really are on the inside.

Leroy’’s rusty, shaking hands gripped the hammer and pounded on the fiery metallic structure of the suits, the sparks, spraying his boiled up face as droplets of sweat pounded the ground in the same rhythm. Every once in a while, he would stare out the mighty window beside him, wondering what it must feel like to feel powerful. Yes, people think that being a tall man in a white, stylish lab coat is more than what anyone would ask for, serving the world with bravery, intelligence, and yes, power. But no, it’s only in dreams, some that can come true but not entirely. The superhero league, the Rogue Heroe Collection., were off on a mission, recovering a stolen treasure from a villain league in Venezuela. Meanwhile, Leroy, behind in his deadlines, sweated effortlessly in building the foundation of their technology.

The next day, there was an alert over the loudspeakers.

“LEROY SPENCER CLAWMIRE!!! PROCEED TO THE ROGUE CENTER IMMEDIATELY!” bellowed Rogue Soldier 7. Nothing unusual. The shivering, heartsinking feeling he would feel everyday this happens slowly started to die away, like a fearsome fire extinguished by defeat. He jumped down flights of stairs, weary for the torture waiting to come. Quartz Rogue stood by the side of his office, the dead silence, fueling the rage he could see deep down in his eyes. Finally, he spoke, masking on that face of “I know you’re hiding something”.

“When were you going to tell us about your father?”

That simple question, richocheted through the walls of Leroy’s mind, making his stomach lurch with fear, worse than what he ever experienced. He should have known that they would’ve figured out his past.

“We researched the files of a notorious arms dealer we were assigned to investigate, and his name is Benjamin Clawmire. Funny how he has the same, unique last name as our fellow screw up here”.

It was like he was in a horror scene, the agonizing feel as the suspense and intensity erupted.

“Not only was this what we found, but this arms dealer is said to have two sons, one of them dead, and the other stil alive, going by the name of Leroy”.

“Ok fine! My dad is a criminal, I ran away to find a better life after my brother died, and came here to start my career!” Leroy stuttered, gasping shakily as he admitted a lie he has kept for years from the supers. He soon realized that this whole lie of his has gotten to a point where things were getting real serious.

Quartz Rogue grabbed him by the collar and screamed, deafening the ears of practically everyone in the room.

“HOW COULD WE HAVE TRUSTED YOU!!! You could’ve hacked our systems, blown away our security, destroyed our entire reputation!!!

Leroy couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Maybe he was deaf from all that shouting. After all these years, they think he’s a spy, betraying them just because of his father. His gritted teeth chattered rapidly, depriving him from uttering a word to the monster before him.

Leroy whined. HIs 20-inch self, rocked by a nurse in the hospital downtown. The moment he fluttered open those dark brown eyes, life drained away from his poor mother’s soul.

He couldn’t bear to watch the coughing, the wheezing, the bleeding of his elder sibling. Slumping behind the wall, wailing his lungs out, as he tortured himself by listening to the last beep, beep, beeps of his dear brother’s heart on the monitor across from him. And ever since, his father took care of him, pushing him to be better than he ever was. Being an arms dealer, his criminal record way above the limits, was not what he wanted for his only son. So he let him live his own successful life.

And now, down to his last kin, hope flushed away from Leroy, and his mind was clouded with anguish.

“Rogue Soldiers 4, 5, and 6, gather the troops and report to the mainfeild for battle, it’s time to end this once and for all,” ordered Quartz Rogue, and he marched forward.

“No!!! You can’t do this, please, he’s all I have left!” Leroy pleaded, knowing that his words were of no use.

“This man is a danger to our society, and so are you! Security, lock this man up, and make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid to ruin our execution of our plan,” Quartz Rogue boomed, matter of factly.

At this point, Leroy would have been screaming in tears, except no words came up, and he was too choked up to even think of crying. He struggled away from the muscular men, squirming as hard as he could to get away from their grasp, but soon realized it was pointless. Thrown into a vacant, abandoned room like he was nothing, Leroy made the most he could of his time there by banging on the door and shouting. He was boxed out like a package delivered to torture and it was like being eaten away, decaying with every breath he took, when a bunch of no good was coming his way. Seconds felt like minutes, minutes felt like hours, and hours felt like days. He was way too out of energy to get anyone’s attention from outside the locked area.

“Benjamin Clawmire has been successfully terminated! Escort Leroy Clawmire of the premises, he has officially been fired,” came the tired voice of the general over the PA system. 

A bullet to the chest. Fired from fate itself, blasting away the remains of Leroy’s decaying heart. His was was solemn and all his emotions, mixed and jumbled up, were tightened into a firm, ball.

There was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide. What else could he do? His ears rang and all he could do was run. Run as far as he could until something, anything would make him snap out of it. As the first tear left his wet cheek, he stopped. He breathed as deeply as he could but it shook violently. But this time, not with fear, or defeat. It was something new. He shook with anger. Everything he ever had, disappeared in a blink of an eye right in front of him, but he had felt weak. He had felt as though he were strained back by webs and webs of disparage, and now, for the first time, he was free. The only thing that stopped him, was himself, his self-concious. But now, even his self-consciousness didn’t exist. He could feel that new feeling of rage, and there was no escaping it. He took a step, and then another, but he took them boldly and with pride, putting the past behind him, and his future ahead. And so he continued, but with a plan. Not a plan of surrender, but a plan of dumping this weight and burden of weakness aside, and starting a new blank slate. As reached his empty, and lonely abode, he sat down, took a pen and paper and wrote what came to his mind: REVENGE

Mirrored Reflection

“Hey, are you going to pick that up?” Livia nagged. She was a woman around my height, with mousy brown hair, dressed professionally, and much too obnoxious. My glance shifted from her to the rest of the office. The room’s dusty phone, near the door, had been ringing for quite a while now, but probably only a little while. Why the hell was she so nitpicky? I should’ve gotten another assistant a long time ago, although it would’ve been the third in the past six months.

The small room was messy, that was the only way to put it. The room had dust on shelves, floating like little fairies in the stuffy room, captured in the only source of light. It shone from the windows letting in what rays the sun could muster in the face of seemingly endless cloudy gray skies. Papers and trinkets stacked up to the same height as the lamps, with miscellaneous objects lying around. 

Books were one of them, a precious commodity. You could find the elderly ranting about the past at all times; they used to be abundant, with buildings called libraries made specifically for books. Moreover, they usually had laughable security and were free and public. It sounded absurd. Now they were left in the hands of rich collectors and people who specifically memorized books to preserve and share their contents for pay, like me. I owned a large amount of them in this room, waiting for me to listen to their contents.

I snapped back, as I should, “Why would I? I already know the details. Just because this caller has a sentimental reason doesn’t mean that I should accept the commission. He can’t pay. The guy just can’t get a hint.” 

“You…”

“What, you expect me to apologize or something if I do decide to respond?”

“...Ignore what I said. Well, if you aren’t willing to help that man, I have something for you.”

“Just continue,” I inwardly sighed.

“Well, you see, there’s this old library full of classics, just a few hours away.”

“Finally something worth working on.” I pushed a couple books aside, stood up, and shoved past her to the door. “Also, while you’re here, clean up!” I slammed the door. 

Livia really was useless.

“I really should try to look for somewhere else to work…” I heard her mutter.

_______

I was greeted with the still gloomy sky looming behind tall buildings reaching towards the remnants of the sun. The haphazardly organized streets ended and started randomly, and the steel bones of outdated skyscrapers with plates of glass flesh that stubbornly hung on. The landscape had been reclaimed by nature, and the same scenery stretched to the horizon. The road had been getting more and more dilapidated as the miniscule car drove farther and farther from the main city. Most of the stores themselves had shattered glass windows that looked man-made. 

I could feel myself shuddering, then something caught my eye. The least damaged buildings were oddly scattered around the grand ruins of a clock tower. People could be seen. My driver circled around this peculiar community, while I wondered how people could bear living in this near apocalyptic environment. It was a wonder that they were living here, especially with the now fading city in the background. It wasn’t that hard to find work, surely. 

“Miss, your stop,” the driver impudently reminded me.

“Whatever.”

The door slammed behind me as I hurriedly trekked over wreckage, making my way toward the entrance of the building next to the clock tower. I wouldn’t want to be seen here, much less known to live here. 

The commissioner, which I recognized from the profile on the form, was chatting next to this girl, who looked surprisingly around my age. Most of the people here were middle aged, telling of their less than ideal circumstances. His eyes widened as he spotted me.

“Ah…Miss Everwill.”

“What's with that look, don’t tell me your pet hamster died or something?”

He looked at the building, then at me, with a more firm look, “Well…you see…”

The girl turned around to face me. She smiled a little too brightly, “Sorry for having you travel here, but I volunteered to help.”

A volunteer? Wow. Somehow my fists were clenched without me noticing. 

“Well, director, wouldn’t you rather someone more capable than a volunteer to help? Also what about my time? And the cancellation fee?” I glared distastefully at the girl.

He took a step away. Coward.

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that, after all my time is worth more.” Those disgusting eyes seemingly finished judging me in a few moments, as if she knew me better than myself. When I met her eyes, she didn’t glance away. Unlike the pathetic director. “I have photographic memory, and have much more experience.” Did they even know what they were even doing?

The director declared embarrassingly loud at that moment, “But, Miss Cassandra, it seems that I can pay the cancellation fee for our appointment,” I could see the corners of his mouth turned upwards on his despicable face. 

He didn’t know what he was doing, with his uneducated -

“You’re still really amazing at your job, although you’re a tiny bit more incompetent than me,” The girl started. She stole this building, this library, this…whatever, this opportunity from me. This girl who I didn’t even know the name of. Daring to interrupt me. She hadn’t even heard of me, yet still had the nerve to judge me like she had the right to. Her pea-sized brain probably thought that she was superior -

Then a thought struck my head like lightning. A nightmarish thought. Isn’t this what I think of other people?

I immediately cut her off, “Well if you say so,” and turned and walked away, my legs wobbling a bit while calling in a quavery voice for another driver.

_______

“Nice to meet you,” I evenly greeted. My palms were sweaty, my face felt hot (from running right here, of course after proper procedure), but I couldn’t meet his eyes. 

He looked kind, which only made my headache worse. The man, who looked old enough to be my dad, had a very noticeable cast around his left arm, and bandages across his face.

I took in a familiar voice, which used to be ignored and forgotten,“I can only say words of thanks for deciding to come here. The copies are…” His relieved and bright smile lit up the dark and musty living room. While reciting a list of classics, his hand was gesturing all around him. I studied the pattern on the wood, and how scorched everything was, attempting to distract myself from… this. The traces and remains of ashes and wood that had rotted and been abandoned, and the chairs, shelves and most of all, binded up papers with various notes. A moment later the aged man finished. I noticed the strain in his voice at first when he called, like the commissioner was about to start sobbing, but now I heard a strong sense of relief in his words.

I could only manage to say, ”I apologize for the delay.” 

A hot and steamy summer day, kids sweating and ice cream melting. A heat wave hotter than 90. The southern heat bubbling pools and dropping sweat and drool. Lives... “Jamie, grab your baseball stuff, let's go!. Jamie loves the feeling of gripping and swinging the bat. Every catch and everythrow is the thing he loves about baseball. But his biggest problem is when he loses. On this day Jamie hears a loud voice shouting “you're out!” he rips off his gloves and helmet and with pure anger slams on the floor, a loud clap of his equipment and his red face steaming.

***

His mom shouts “Jamie are you ready” from down stairs. Shouting from upstairs all you can hear is” si mama i'll be down in a second!”

Bags rustling and bats clanking as steps stump down stairs. “You ready, let's go” sounds of the house door shutting and slamming. Jamie, as ready as ever, rushes to the car and hops in the front with a winning mindset. After a long nerve racking and over thinking of a car ride,Jamie rushes out of the car to his team to warm up before the game. Sounds of balls slapping into gloves. Game has started. All you can hear is strike after strike for Jamie and team. As furious as ever he boils up into so much anger he walks off and throws his glove in anger.someone sees him running. 

***

Jamie, filled with anger, sits down with a rosie red face, a large shadow covers his face and looks not to see who it is due to the bright sun. but hears a man say “Never let the fear of striking out keep you from playing the game”. Those wise words struck where nothing else has. 

***

He runs back over to his team in confidence and believes even though he misses the ball he'll never miss the memories of the game he loves.

If you can't fly, then run. If you can't run, then walk. If you can't walk, then crawl, but whatever you do, you have to keep moving." - Martin Luther King Jr.

MOMENT #4RESOLUTION Bring your reader to a moment that implies a shift (large or small) in your character’s defining characteristic! (ex: shy→ less shy)

Hints:

• Intentional lead

• Imply emotion (body language, strong verbs, dialogue) 

• Pace the storytelling (no “dawn-to-dusk”)

• Make it VISUAL with unique sensory details

The Incident 

Dylan had curled up in a ball on his bed lying in a dark room with bags under his eyes. His bed was smaller than him and his room had one tiny window that had lots of personality cracks. He had not gotten out of bed in what felt like months because he was too tired and too embarrassed because of what he did. Pounding headaches tore through his head as if they were looking for something to destroy. He could hear his mom yelling at him with fists clenched of rage through the door but this had gone on so long he did not even care at this point. Dylan used to get into  trouble all of the time as a kid, but never as terrible as this. He knew he would be grounded for at least a year because of that one horrific night one week ago. The moment in time when everything slowed down. When the universe punched him in the face. When the world had nothing left for him.

When the noon of night comes around, and the night is darker than a black cat. Dylan's smile grows from ear to ear under his ski mask.. He picked up the rock, and chucked it at the clean Apple Store window. The glass shattered and no alarms went off. Dylan scurried into the store, his soul erupting with a weird mix of fear and a devious sensation. He turned around and saw all of the phones that lined the tables. He knew that it would not be smart to take them because they might be equipped with an alarm. He saw the headphones standing off to the side and carefully removed one from the pile. He then scurried out of the store. Then something flashed through his mind. Nobody in sight, nobody to stop him. Dylan steps back through the broken glass and back into the store. He grabbed one of the phones and pulled as hard as he could until it came off the plug. Everything was quiet, that was until a loud alarm started to sound. He ran as fast as he could out of the store but when he came outside, his heart sank into his feet and his brain melted like ice cream on a hot July day. His arms felt heavy. He heard a deep voice calling after him. 

“FREEZE!” he yelled in a sharp tone. Dylan turned quickly and saw a police officer with a gun pointed at him. Dylan wanted to fall into the ground on the spot and never come out so his body did the next best thing. Dylan started to feel really dizzy and he fell back onto the floor unconscious. 

Dylan woke up, drenched in sweat. He knew what happened, just he did not know whether to play dumb or not. 

“You have a good amount of explaining to do:” the cop said who was in Dylans medical room. The doctor came in to check him out. 

“You got 2 months of community service to do and you have a bit of a fine to go along with it.” He handed Dylan a paper stating everything that he said before, just on paper. The money had not been paid off by his mom, even though there was no way that she was not as mad as Donald Trump when he lost the election.

“Your mom said that you need to do all of the community service, and you will be paying all fines and damage fees.” Dylan's heart dropped again. He had no idea what else to do except to pay it off and do his service in the retirement home. Dylan knew he was at an unfortunate point in his life. Rock bottom.

He went to work in the kitchen. While delivering food to a lady,... wait… no…. His MOM. Dylan avoided eye contact. His heart dropped. His palms were sweating oceans. He dropped off the food and went to walk away, when his mom said

“Dylan, may I please talk to you for a moment?” Dylan started to walk back over and his mom went straight to the point.

“Dylan, I know you don't want to talk to me right now, but if you want your life to get any better then it is right now, you need to forgive yourself by doing these services, and then you can not feel guilty anymore.” 

Dylan thought about what his mom had said, and started to think that she was right. He needed to pull his life together and do something about what he did. He couldn't feel guilty his whole life. That would be so much worse. 

A couple of months later when Dylan finished with his services, he sat down and thought about his life. From here, his life would change for the better. He still knew how he would never forget this, but maybe he would be able to live a normal life, instead of living in agony. 

         When the Chalk Crumbles

I slouch against the wall, scratching the unbroken skin that surrounds the torn. It definitely hurts, but it doesn’t hurt as much as my unpolished performance. Gazing down at my card I let out a hazy sigh. 0’s and L’s are the only symbols visible on my slip of paper . . . no Z’s or T’s in sight. My mind goes to Zara’s and Lesley’s cards, full of bragging rights and the purest perfection. It’s no wonder they make it to regionals every time.

They’re the definition of professional climbers.

I’m about to tear my card in half when a girl with blond, cherry, and blueberry pigtails tumbles forward as the door swings open. I let out an anxious squeak as it slams into the wall, nearly making a dent. 

“Nyla? What the hell are you doing? This room is sketchy . . . I don’t think you're allowed to be in here,” the girl scolds me, but her expression softens as she sees all the color drained out of my face. She lets out a sigh and tries to drag me out of the room, but I don’t budge. 

“I don’t want to go outside, Quinn,” I murmur. Quinn lets out a heavy sigh and crosses her arms, unsure of what to say. She’s probably worried that she’ll make me even more upset than I already am. 

“Rowan, can you convince her to get out of this room? Sulking will just bring your spirits down.”

A boy with messy dark brown hair peeks his head around the corner and walks up to me, trying his best not to crumple in the awkward situation. “Hey . . .”

“I’m not leaving.”

“Look, it was just one mess up-”

“Don’t remind me,” I mumble in a cold, warning tone that echoes through the room. Quinn exchanges looks with Rowan as the awkwardness tightens like a knot in a climbing rope. I just made the situation worse, didn’t I?

Quinn takes a deep breath and puts one hand on my shoulder, something she does when she’s about to say something very serious and very important. “Girl, you got high zone on that extremely crimpy overhang wall. Like, how crazy is that?,” she breathes. “Not that crazy apparently,” I mutter back, cracking my knuckles. “Zara and Lesley topped it first try.”

“And does that really matter that much? That they got a top?” Rowan chimed in, “just look at how amazing you were! You made so much progress with each attempt. I bet I wouldn’t be able to do something like that.”

I tug out an eyelash and smile at him weakly, forcing myself to get up. “Thanks for trying to make me feel better but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m not as good as them.”

“That doesn’t matter!”

“I think it’s my turn. I’ll see you guys later.”

_______________

“Ah, there you are!”

A young man with dark brown hair approaches me, ruffling my hair as I walk by him. I manage to look up at him briefly and give him a weak smile. “Hi, Coach Shoma.”

“What's this?,” he asks teasingly, “Nyla feeling . . . pessimistic?”

I don’t laugh.

He lets out a dramatic sigh and crosses his arms, leaning against the wall. “Nyla, you know why I invited you to the team, right?,” he asks, the environment becoming very serious. I look down at my feet, unsure of what to say, but he goes on. 

“I wouldn’t have invited you to the team if I wasn’t sure if you would be a good addition. I see potential in you and you’re still at the start of your climbing journey.”

I don’t say anything. My hands are shaking so much that some of my chalk spills out of my chalk bag and turns the ground below me white. Shoma bends down to grab a piece of the chalk and holds it up in between his fingers. “This piece of chalk right here? This is you,” he explains. I look up from the chalky mess, a tiny grin making its way out of my frown. “You’re saying I’m a piece of chalk?”

“Shh shh shh, just listen. This is you. You’re the chalk . . . you’re strong, tough, and useful, until someone comes along and makes you crumble apart.” Shoma pinches the piece of chalk and it breaks into multiple pieces. He hands the crumbled pieces of chalk to me and quickly nods. “You must not let others control how you feel or you’ll be trapped in a mental loop. Just think about how you’re doing and not how anyone else is doing.”

But I just can’t stop comparing myself to others. 

“Nyla Lesly!,” A voice exclaims, loud and clear. Shoma grins. “That’s you,” he says, pushing me out of Isolation Zone and into the giant stage. When I enter, bright gumdrop shaped lights fall onto me, giving me all the attention. Looking up at the complicated slopers and volumes in front of me I think back to what Shoma said, his words echoing in my mind. You’re strong, tough, and useful until someone comes along and makes you crumble apart. I take one deep breath and do my best to ignore the giant scoreboard that screams look at me! Notice me! I know you want to!

The audience grows quiet as I study my chosen climb. A cloud of chalk falls like snow as I clap my hands together and soon I have my hands on the start, bending down low and swinging up high. I’m like a sugar glider, flying up the wall and landing gracefully on my little branch. The only sound heard is the sound of my breath, calm and collected as I stretch up high. The crowd breaks the long moment of silence and erupts into cheers and praise as I put all my work, all my energy into the finishing hold. 

______________________

“THAT WAS AMAZING!"

A bunch of people, a majority of them being my teammates, crowd around me. I get multiple high fives, a bunch of compliments, and a few hugs as everyone is celebrating the top I got. Shoma walks up to me and shakes me back and forth like he’s mixing a milkshake. “That was so SICK! That’s the best I’ve ever seen you climb.”

“It must have been your magical words,” I grin. Shoma laughs and pats me on the back. “Magical words you say? Or was it a change of attitude . . ?”

I think for a moment. Usually now would be the time where I grunt in frustration from being worse than Zara or Lesley, but for some reason I don’t complain. I don’t even say anything negative but instead I smile and nod. “Yes . . . perhaps.”

_______________________

I clip myself into my seat, squished between Quinn and Rowan. They munch on their precious french macarons, a well earned reward from Quinn’s mother. The car motor starts rumbling and I gaze out the window, nibbling on my lavender flavored treat as I watch the stadium slowly growing smaller and smaller. 

In the corner of my eye I spot Zara sitting at the edge of the curb, grinning at her friends as she holds up everything that I’ve ever wanted up proudly for everyone to see. I’ve always seemed to be just out of reach from bright glistening gold and instead get presented with pukey bronze. I’m about to say something about her when Quinn’s mother looks into the mirror and glances back at me.

“Congrats on the medal,” Quinn’s mom beams, her voice gooey and sweet like sticky honey. Usually when people say congratulations they don’t fully mean it but this time it’s a real compliment. Quinn’s mother rambles on. “You should be very proud of yourself Nyla. Your parents are going to be so happy! I’m so happy for you too. I have a feeling you’re probably a little bit disappointed but silver is amazing!”

I nod. The old me wants to say “silver isn’t good enough . . . Zara did so much better than me!” But the new me smiles and replies, “Yes, you’re right. Silver is just perfect.”

The Longest Winter

“I can’t take this place anymore,” I say to myself lying on the bed with wide open eyes.

I pull the blanket over my shivering body. I just lie there for hours not being able to fall asleep, hoping for at least a measly hour of rest. I look out the window to be met by nature's confetti, gently descending from the sky. Just a few more weeks I keep telling myself, even though I know that it is going to be a whole lot longer. The confines of the 1800s gray bedroom walls seem to be pressing in, making me feel trapped with no escape. 

The bed is a ship being tossed around at stormy seas as Jerry on the bottom bunk rolls and bounces in his sleep. Exhaustion weighs down on me as I struggle to drift into the peacefulness of sleep. I rise from my bed, any hope of sleep being lost.

I wake Jerry as I get up from bed, “Can you try to be quiet when you get out of bed Darry,” Jerry says barely awake.

“It’s not like you are being quiet when I’m trying to sleep! Stop being annoying and just go back to bed!” my voice bears such weight that Jerry’s eyes begin to fill with tears.

Then I walk right out of my bedroom to my parents that still haven’t gone to sleep yet. They looked stressed out, almost worse than me. They both have red eyes and they look like they are both going to fall asleep on the worn down blue couch.

“Can we please leave this place already,” I say to them just as I feel like I'm  just going to have a breakdown that I can’t stop.     

I can see the stressed angry looks in their eyes, but I just don’t care about anything or anyone anymore. All I want is the simple life I had back at our peaceful home, with no worries and so many activities to do.

“Trust me, we want to leave too, but it is just not the right time. I think we all would rather be safe than sorry,” my mom says, using the same '' it's better to be safe than the sorry quote that she uses every single day.

“At this point I don’t even care how dangerous it is to leave! I just can’t stand staying at this stupid little hotel any longer!” I scream, not holding anything back.

“Darry! We do not talk like that in this house and you know it!” my mom says so viciously because she hates when my family screams.

I want to say so much to my mother, but I know it will just make things worse if I express my true feelings.

So I just look at my mother with sad eyes and say, “I’m leaving this place on my own if we don’t leave soon.” I walk out of the room stomping away.

I close the door behind me and hop back into bed. The bed felt closer to a table or a rock than an actual bed. There are so many thoughts rushing through my mind. Maybe I should run away or just suck it up and deal with this place for just a little bit longer. Every second feels like an eternity, and the clock has been at 12:04 for the past hour.

I hear my parents get up and walk across the creaky floors into their bedroom and then hear the door shut. Maybe it might be a good idea to sneak out and leave this stupid place just for the night. It might actually feel like I have some freedom for the first time in months.

I get out of bed being as quiet as possible to not wake anyone up. I can feel the on the bed shaking and I can hear my heart pounding. If anyone finds out about this I will be dead and I will have even less freedom than I did before. I get down and start tiptoeing to make as little noise as possible. As I approach the door to the bedroom I have to turn the knob so slowly so it makes no noise. I stay on my tiptoes until I finally make it to the front door.

As I'm starting to open the door I freeze right away because I see a guy that is still walking around this late. If he sees me this might not go well. Right when he turns around the corner I leave the room, knowing the risk of leaving that I'm facing. I step out of the room and walk in the direction the security guard is not going. At this time of night it is required that kids are with an adult.

After I took a few more steps I realized that I left the room card in the bedroom. I knew I was dead and there was nothing I could do about it. I had to come up with something, I could say I sleepwalked, maybe I went through the wrong door. Nope, none of these would make sense. There was nothing I could say, I’m going to be grounded.

I walk down the hall getting to the next hallway where I see a kid like me, by himself in the distance who can’t be old enough to be by himself at this time of night. I start walking toward him and he starts to walk toward me. Both of us have to be discrete or we will get caught and be in massive trouble.  

When I finally reach him I say, “Are you supposed to be here right now,” I talk in a whisper so nobody in other rooms can hear me.

“I know I'm not supposed to be out here, but I'm tired of staying inside for so long. This trip was supposed to be for the weekend and my family has been here for months. Also I don’t think you should be out here either,” the random kid says in a quiet voice.

“I’m having the same exact problem as you and more. I just can’t stay inside any longer and I left my room card inside so I can’t get back in.” I say trying not to break down in tears.

“Maybe you could spend the night at my place, if you want to,” 

“Actually! Thank you so much! That would be great!” I respond loudly, forgetting to be quiet.

“Alright, let's go now. We might have been a little too loud so let's get out of here,” says the kid in a voice that sounded happy, unlike our voices at the beginning of the conversation.

Maybe it’s not just me that feels this way, it’s probably many others too. For the first time in months I actually feel kinda happy. I have to think of a story to tell my mom, but for now, I just have to worry about tonight. As soon as I get back I’m going to fix the depressed mood that I set back in the hotel room. Even though the roads are still dangerous, the hotel is now holds promise. I can finally feel like I can make the best out of this  time I have with family and a new friend.

Drifting

I watched a girl stumble on the curb. She was tired. I could read it in her stance: the way her shoulders hunched, how every step in the moonlight came with a thump on the concrete. How every exhale brought a rattling from her chest, breath fogging the crisp air. She stared with gaunt eyes at the strip she used to cherish. The cafe stood, the bell singing a broken tune. Dust collected on the window panes, wreathed in shadows, casting darkness over her memories. It consumed the girl, and the setting folded into itself, bringing forth a void. It choked her, pressing in. She jammed her fingers in her ears. The sound of sinister chatter rained down, yet no faces were revealed. Cowards, I thought with scorn in my voice. She was forced to hear their jeering remarks. ‘Still think you're better than me?’ ‘Hey bitch, watch where you're going!’ She curled into a ball, begging for them to stop, just stop. Their leering gazes were a brand on her skin, she couldn't get away. I tried opening my throat, tried to run to her, but my mind was held prisoner. I couldn't save her. No one could save her. Opening her eyes a crack, she saw a blade in the glimmer of light. It was so enticing, that blade. It sent exhilarating shivers down her spine. This, this was her choice. The first in years. She crawled toward the knife, her lifeline. She picked it up and turned it towards herself. My eyes widened in realization, for I knew that face, upturned to the light. Knew the lightly tanned skin, the stark hazel eye contrast, the full lips that faced me. Knew the black leggings, the fitted crop top, the bracelet now adorning her emaciated wrist. Knew the hollowness of her cheeks, the despair that streamed down her face. As she angled the dagger slightly to her left, I stared at that broken face-my face, and the blade hit home. 

I woke in sweat, the heat strangling me. Shoving the blankets off of me I bolted to the bathroom and retched. My body was racked with sobs as I reminded myself: just a dream, it was just a dream. I picked myself up and turned on the faucet. I stared into that face, falling towards the floor only moments ago. Just a dream, I reminded myself, snapping out of my reverie. I turned the knob, and was left in silence. Padding over to the blankets now thrown askew, I glanced at the window. My watchful eyes stared back. My gaze slid to the nightstand, adorned with photographs of a young girl, eyes bright with unrelenting joy. Was this person really me? It was only the year prior, but the portrait couldn't have been more mistaken. Perhaps the camera thought it saw joy in that pasted smile, life in those fracturing eyes. People saw what they wanted to see after all, I thought with a bitter taste in my mouth. My gaze shifted to the small bottle. Scrunching my brows, I shook my head. Only a couple hours till school anyway. I lay down, careful to stay above the covers as a slight draft cut across the heat. I stared at the popcorn ceiling until the sun rose, lips pursed in contemplation.

I open my drawer and pull out a pair of blue baggy jeans, and a sage green tube top. I can cover this with a hoodie, I thought to myself, pulling on a cream sweatshirt. I looked in the mirror and tilted my head. A little lip gloss wouldn't hurt. A little foundation. And small studs. I nodded in affirmation, pausing to take in my mothers skin and my father’s eyes. Another day in the life. I took the steps two at a time, the sound of Taiwanese filling my ears. I pushed my way through the kitchen, past my Amah and Akong, mumbling “早上好.”  As they continued their grumbling, I pulled a glass from the cabinet, and pressed it to the water dispenser on the fridge. I glanced towards my grandparents to find my mother in my face. 

“女孩儿, what is this on your face? Are you trying for attention? Is that what you want?” I winced, and quickly took a drink from the glass. 

“You know, all the girls dress like this.” my eyes widened slightly as hers narrowed.

“Dress like this?” She gave me a sharp look, and I withered under it. Stupid, I grumbled in my head, shrugging off my hoodie. I stared at the floor in anticipation for the next onslaught. Mom breathed in sharply, “Aiyah, what are you wearing? 我的女孩*, get changed immediately. And wipe off that powder.” I scrunched my eyes together in frustration. Why won't she just leave me alone? It's not like she has to go out looking like me! I took my time, grabbing my foil wrapped sandwich, and pouring the glass of water into my water bottle. Pasting a placid look on my face, I muttered obscenities under my breath as I walked toward the stairs as calmly as I could past Amah and Akong, possibly talking about the weather at the table. For all I know, maybe they think I look hideous as well, a bitter smile overtaking my face. 

I slammed my door as I walked into my room, sunlight filtering in. I sighed, and shoved my binders into my backpack. She’ll never know if I just put on another hoodie. I pulled on my grey Seventeen hoodie, leaving the makeup on. My eyes flicked to my watch, “Damn it.”

I hurried down the stairs past the dining table and flung open the door. Racing towards the bus stop, I thought, How typical, not even saying goodbye. 

-

I sat with my face on my palm, doodling on the test. How the hell do they expect me to know trig if they don't teach it to me? I stifled a sigh, and shifted in my seat. I snuck a glance over at Zara, but she was already finished, reading some fancy looking book. Just great. As I mulled over whether or not to get up, the teacher called ,“Fifteen minutes left!”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I muttered under my breath. Ah, screw it. I drew some scribbles that I hoped looked like vague algebra. Well, at this point I have at least a 25% chance of getting it right. I filled the little circles with lead until the bell rang. My head shot up and I heard someone snickering. As I whirled around I saw Xavier. He met my eyes, and a haughty grin overtook his face. He looked me up and down twice, his eyes lingering on my chest. I hunched my shoulders and immediately turned around, looking at my desk as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. I unzipped my bag, trying to make it seem as though I was slow, taking the time until everyone had left the room. As I stood, I tripped on the leg of a chair, and I sped up to Mr. Emerson and placed my test on his desk, backpack on my shoulder. His eyes flicked up, and he said, “A word, Miss Wayland?”

“Um, yes?, Mr. Emerson?” I wheeled around and slowly stepped back to his desk. 

“Listen,” he said with a sigh, his hand cradling his greying head, “I'm sure your parents”-parent, I thought, “-Have mentioned, but you need to get your grade point average up. If you don't, you can kiss college goodbye.” Well what's the point of getting the minimum if I can’t go to a school like Harvard, or any goddamn Ivy League?

“I know, I just…,” huffing imperceptibly said, “I have a lot on my plate.”

“Well I don't care, Ms. Wayland. I had higher expectations,” he said, gaze softening a fraction. No doubt reminiscing, a bitter taste in my mouth. His expression hardened again, and he spoke. “Whether you're out at parties or out getting drunk, work is work,” he reprimanded, shooting a glare up at me. 

“Yes sir.” As I walked out the door I grumbled, What does he know?

-

I hopped off the bus as the sky darkened, and trudged into the house. Inside, I passed my grandparents watching 60 Minutes. My mother was busy in the kitchen, the scent of Asian spices filling my nose. I stormed past the happy home and into my room. What's the point? Everything…it's so pointless!  I shoved off my bed and slumped into my chair, and pulled out my journal. I wrote in furious scrawls, Why? Why am I here? Why is everyone always on my back? Why can’t they leave me alone? Why do I have to meet their standards? Why am I not good enough?  As tears splashed on the page, I stumbled over to my bed and flopped over, letting tears cascade. Eventually, my stomach began to growl. I wiped my tears, sniffed, and crept down the stairs. The TV was on low, but it was just Amah. I reached into the fridge and pulled out a custard bun. Pushing reheat on the microwave, I walked over to Amah and stared at the TV. I felt her gaze shift over to me, and contently, she asked “How was your day?”

“Fine,” I said, lips immediately forming the lie, eyes still glued to the man talking politics.

“Did you meet someone?” she asked, smile lines appearing in her wrinkled face.

“No,” I said, shifting my gaze for a moment, only to peer down into my lap. Amah grasped my hand, and asked softly, 

“What's wrong?”

I stared at our hands, similar in color, one unblemished, the other covered in sunspots and wrinkles. I remembered that there was a time when I would visit her house and bang on her piano. A time where I would walk through the halls, gripping her hand tightly so the monsters wouldn't pull me into the shadows. A time when my mother was so broken, that Amah was there. I swallowed, whispering, “Everything is so hard. It…it's like everything is pushing in. All the time. I can’t get out.” A ball wedged itself in my throat and I tried to breathe.

“我的孫女*, it won’t always be. Things will get better.” She smiled at me, but I was breaking. 

“How will things get better?”  Please, Amah, pull me out. Free me. I'm dying in this cage. My face crumpled in my silent cry, and she leaned over to hug me.

“孫女, 我愛你,*, don't cry. Your father in heaven, he won’t let bad things happen.” She smiled at me and I shattered.

“Right,” I said, voice shaking. I pasted a thin smile and squeezed her frail frame against mine. I pulled away, turning from Amah to flee up the stairs, oblivious to her puzzled expression. I pounded down the hall, not caring if anyone heard, my soul severing from my body. Tears streamed down my face as shoved open my door and scrounged for the bottle. As I grasped it in hand, I raced towards the door, and paused. I spun around slowly, and truly looked at my room. My bed, covers still awry from last night. My nightstands adorned with SAT math and vocabulary books, drawers filled with small romances, a taste of what I’d never have. My desk, shoved into a corner, little pastel highlighters and pens in glass jars. Pictures capturing my life spanned the wall, but all I saw was something worth forgetting. I glanced at my face, plastered with pure joy, and whispered, “I'm sorry for failing you.” I walked back down the stairs, pausing every few seconds to not wake anyone. As I peered into the hallway, Amah sat dozing on the worn couch, the tv casting a glow over her bony frame. I paused to observe the only home I’d truly known, breathing in time with Amah’s soft snoring. I swallowed down the lump in my throat and walked into the cramped kitchen. My eyes roved over pictures in the dim, slowly taking them in. I blinked furiously. I shuffled into the dining room filled with clutter. Awards of Ethans, from math to viola, cheesy postcards from our family vacations, tables covered in more food than we could ever eat in a week. I touched the cool medal and closed my eyes, breathing deeply. I let it slip out of my fingers, and walked lightly to the door. I turned the handle and the chill swept in. I glanced back, but refrained from turning my head. Closing my eyes and facing the world, I reprimanded, Once we turn, there's no going back. I stepped in the crisp night and shut the door. 

I walked down the sidewalk, my steps halting. It was eerily quiet in the street, the only sound being the whistle of the wind. As I walked past nameless shops, I came across the path. The one that would take me to the river. 

Plodding along the dirt trail, my mind whirred with adrenaline. I went on autopilot till my feet were pressing on wooden planks. I looked up to see water glimmering in the moonlight. Breathing deeply, I saw the trees at my back, and the boat rack in the periphery of my vision. I stepped towards it, honing in on the canoe. It thunked on the dirt, piercing the night as I dragged it along the wood. My breathing even, I pushed the boat into the water, careful to hold the end. I tugged it closer and climbed in, the small bottle in my pocket now in my hand. As I tipped the contents into my hand, I let go of the dock. A strange calm washed over me, and I smiled,  drifting out into the river, coasting gently, the moon staring back until my eyes closed in farewell. 

Helpless

“Taxi! Taxi!!” 

“HEY I’M WALKING HERE!!” Cars zoomed by. People were crammed everywhere like sardines. The bustling sounds of ‘The City Of Dreams’ surrounded Lucia’s every step. Ha, City Of Dreams she thought to herself. It didn’t feel like a dream to her. What she would give to escape the crowds and lights and well, everything. 

The auburn and gold leaves fell from the Oak trees in the southeast part of Central Park, onto Lucia’s eggshell white knit sweater. Her feet pounded against the pavement as she was going to be late for her first day at a school. Lucia didn’t know much about being social or having friends, because she’d been homeschooled her whole life.  One, two, three, crack, the voices in her head told her as she stepped in between cracks on the sidewalk. They have to be even, if they weren’t even then she wasn’t safe. One, two, three, crack. One, two, three, THUMP! Thump? Lucia found herself on the ground next to a man rubbing his head in pain. How insensitive, what an idiot. Oh my god, everyone around me just gets in the way. Why do I live in a city with eight-and-a-half million people when I’d be just fine on my own? She got up in a huff, but made sure to give the man a stare that could pierce a soul while doing so. 

          ————

Lucia was going to be late as she scrambled down the subway steps, a ballerina in a rush. She fiddled to get her metrocard out of her phone case to press it against the metal thing that beeped and opened when you pressed your card against it. In Lucia's mind, it didn’t have a name, it was just called the “metal thingie that beeps''. Except when she pressed her card, the machine turned red and wouldn’t open. She pressed it again. And again. No luck. Not today!! Any day but today!! 

The crippling anxiety was creeping up into her mind, slowly activating her nervous system. Cheeks red and hands hot, she took some deep breaths to calm herself down.

 “Excuse me miss, would you like some help with that?” asked a kind woman behind her. Lucia whipped her head around and shouted

“NO! LEAVE ME ALONE! I DON’T WANT ANY HELP!” tears were forming in her eyes as she hopped over the metal machine. Even a stranger could tell she was going through something. Or maybe she was just really struggling

A few moments after her little ‘debacle’ at the subway station, Lucia was on the way to her first day at South Manhattan high, the best school in town, or so they said. Her palms were sweaty and her cheeks were a shade of red you might mistake for spilled tomato soup. 

“Hi, are you new here?” asked a cute boy with a smile so wide his mouth was about to burst. Oh boy, here we go. He better make this quick, I don’t intend on making any friends in this crap hole.

“Yeah I am,” she said with a sigh, “my name's Lucia, what's yours?” 

“Nice to meet you Lucia! My name’s Chip and I’ve lived here my whole life and I have a dog named Bo and I LOVE to paint and I take karate on Mondays and Thursdays and I’m really good at chess and-”

“I’m gonna stop you right there. You seem nice and all but I’m not really interested, sorry.”

Chip's golden retriever smile faded into a confused look.

 “Well I just wanted to welcome you to the school, my bad. AND I should probably let you know that this part of town isn’t super safe. I live on the North side of the tracks, but over here on the South side it can be pretty sketchy.” Yeah, right. The preppiest part of the big apple has tons of crime. Sure. 

“I appreciate it Chip but I have to get to class. Bye.”

“Oh ok! Do you need any help with finding your classes?”

“No, I'm fine on my own.” Will anyone ever learn to just leave me alone?

   It was around 10 p.m. when Lucia began her journey home after her first day. She had stayed in the library for so long she had lost track of time, and by the time she stepped out of school to go home, the moon was already way in the clouds. She started making her way to the subway to get home after the long day. The moon was bright, and the city lights shined vividly, but the city felt a little less alive than usual. Something about it felt.. eerie. The ominent streetlights flushed her eyesight, forcing her to squint and look away. Lucia shrugged it off and kept walking towards the subway. As Lucia neared the station, a bright orange sign was caught in her viewline. ROAD WORK AHEAD. DETOUR—-> Oh you’re kidding me, right? Whatever, I guess. Just as she turned the corner to reroute her way home, there was a CLATTER! and a THUD! of something behind her. Cheeks hot, she whipped her head around to inspect the noise. Chips’ words lingered in her mind as she imagined what could possibly be there. Heart racing, she yelled into the night, 

“Who’s there?!” Lurking out of the shadows appeared a tall man, maybe 6’2, with something in his hand. Lucia’s head was spinning and she slowly tried to back her way into an alley. No one was in sight. No one could help her now. 

“Hi there, pretty girl. You look like you need some help, all alone in the middle of the night? It’s not safe to be a pretty gal like you in a big city like this.” His thick southern accent flowed out of his mouth like molasses. 

“Please leave me alone, I’m fine on my own, okay?” she managed to spit out while tears of fear were forming in her eyes. The man’s eyes followed her as she kept inching back, then suddenly slamming into a wall. Like a cougar, he suddenly lurched forward at Lucia. 

“HELP!! HELP!!” she closed her eyes and turned away, praying for a miracle. 

Then, in an instant turn of events, another figure appeared into the light.

“GET AWAY FROM HER!!!” he screamed and leaped onto the man. He pulled back his arm and punched the man so hard that he was knocked out cold. Lucia was frozen in her tracks, unable to move. 

Wait a minute… CHIP??? Why was Chip here? Why did he help me? In the heat of the moment, Lucia then fell into his arms

Lucia was panting in Chips’ arms, tears flowing down her cheeks.
“Thank you Chip”, she managed to cough out through sniffles and cries.

“Of course, Lucia. Didn’t I tell you this was a dangerous neighborhood?” 

“How are you even here? How did you know I was in trouble?” Chip looked down and scratched his head. 

“Well, um, you see, I was sort of following you home.”

“I’m sorry, you were what?”

“Only to make sure you were safe! I’m sorry I just don’t trust the neighborhood and was looking out for you. Good thing I was here though, right?”

“Yes, I can’t thank you enough Chip. Thank you for helping me. It's what I’ve always needed.”

The Hit

The locker room is painted a dull red color, like it used to be new and shiny but has been worn down after years of games, practices, and random free skates. The rickety benches wobble a bit every time anyone moves. Our pump up music playing from the speaker shakes everything, and kills my eardrums. 

“For pete’s sake,” I scream, hurling my gloves onto the dirty floor below the bench I’m sitting on, “Turn it down!” 

“Jeez, Grace” my teammate Alice responds as she pulls on her jersey.

 Another voice I’m not sure who chimes in, “Yeah, we were just trying to get everyone hyped so we can win this game.” 

“Get used to her,” someone whispered. “We’ll be lucky if that's the only time she loses it today.”

“I heard that,” I scowl.

*****

After Coach Carl’s pre game talk we clammer onto the ice like a stampede of elephants, eager to play.  The three minute countdown clock is already ticking so we start our warm up. First, we skate around the face off circle, picking up speed with each crossover. The sound of our edges digging into the ice is the product of many Friday night skills sessions. We pass pucks around on our forehand and backhand before we can start to warm up Audrey. Pucks ring off the posts and crossbar, but after a few shots the only sound heard is the thwack of slapshots and cheers of players and coaches. The honk of the buzzer goes off, so I skate up to the red line ready to win the face off, and the game.

“You're going down,” a mean face across the dot from me hisses. Her smirk is clearly visible behind her cage. The girl towers above me but I know from the snow on her socks that she's already taken a couple of rough falls.

“Oh please,” I shoot back, “I’d like to see you try.”  

“Quit it!” I look up to see a black and white striped shirt glaring disapprovingly at us. 

“Sorry ref,” we both mumble.

Then with a tweet of a whistle and the drop of a puck we’re off.

*****

 I’m skating back to the bench at the end of my shift when it happens. Alice plays a perfect pass to our winger Anna who fakes out the defense with a beautiful toe drag and skates towards goal. The girl who chirped at me before the game was on her heels but there's no way that she can keep up. All of a sudden Anna falls and the girl slyly pulls her stick back from Anna’s skates.

“What the heck ref!” I scream, throwing my stick to the ground as I hop over the boards. My fists clench inside my gloves and Coach can barely hold me back from skating back out and giving the linesman a piece of my mind. 

*****

I head back out a few minutes later. We do a picture perfect breakout play any coach would love. D to d pass then a quick flick to the winger on the hash marks who bounces the puck off the boards and backhands it to me. An empty sheet of ice stretches all the way towards goal. All it takes is a quick spinorama before it’s just me and the goalie. I pick up speed, snow flying from my edges and the puck gliding in front of my stick. Suddenly I feel a slash at my ankles, and my skates leave the ice. I fall with a thunk, the taste of copper in my mouth. 

I see red as I slowly get up. The girl's face pops into my vision and I feel something stirring in my stomach. I barely feel the ice beneath my feet as I skate over to her. My stick is in both my hands now and I shove it out from my chest. There is a sharp crack as it connects with her chest, and a thud as she hits the ground. I faintly hear the crowd gasp in shock but everything is just background noise to me now. I raise my skate, ready  to bring it down on her body. 

“Ughghgh.” A trickle of blood trails down her chin.

Oh no. What have I done? I kneel down beside her but then feel a tug under my armpits and am pushed towards the door leading off the ice. 

“Unacceptable behavior 31. You’ll be lucky if you get to play again this season.” I am led out of the rink and into the locker room. Hot tears stream down my face. I collapse in the middle of the floor and wait for the end of the game to come.

*****

“Hey Grace!” Mr. Baker calls out as he uses his magic markers to make lines and points on the whiteboard. “What’s the slope of this line?”

I slowly raise my head from my desk, pinch myself, and squint my eyes at the board. “Seven.” My voice was stifled by a yawn. My dreams last night had been the same thing over and over again. The pool of blood grew until the whole ice was a sea of red. Then it rose up, drowning me in guilt.

“Yo Sulivan,” a voice snaps me out of my nightmare. “Is it true that you made someone pass out at your hockey game? That’s absolutely crazy, you’re such a menace.” 

My fists clench again. I feel my nails digging into my skin. My breathing speeds up, so fast I can barely get the air into my lungs. Deep breaths, deep breaths, deep breaths. I turn back to my worksheet, ignoring the voice behind me. Ignoring my desire to fight.

Leap of faith

“Look at this view!” my dad exclaimed. We were both breathing hard after the long hike to the top of Mount Lead, which was unsurprisingly empty aside from us, considering it was a Thursday afternoon. We were now faced with the giant cliff overlooking the whole town. From there, I’m sure you could see everything, from the public library that no one uses all the way to the Stop and Shop we go to every weekend.

“I’d rather not,” I reply, trying to stay as close to the comfort of the few ragged trees and rocks firmly stuck to the ground. 

“Oh, come on, it’s not that bad. There's even a railing here. You’ll be fine.”

“Mmm, I think I’ll pass.”

“Suit yourself,” my dad responds, still mesmerized by the “amazing” view.

“When are we leaving?” I ask, anxious to get off this piece of hell in the sky.

“We’ll leave soon enough. You wouldn’t want to leave either if you actually looked.” He is likely to only leave when the storm clouds approaching our clear skies overhead get too close to ignore.

“I’m not so sure about that.”

***

The lunch room was buzzing with the sound of screaming from far off tables and loud chewing. Me, Caleb, and Jimmy were sitting at our usual table, the one right by the door, so we could avoid the mob of kids leaving when the bell rang. I had just unwrapped my leftover pizza when the usually quiet Caleb speaks up excitedly, “Guys, you know how my birthday’s tomorrow? Well guess what. I convinced my parents to let us go ziplining together!” 

“Whoa, are you serious?” Jimmy asks, practically jumping in his seat, “That’s gonna be so cool! I’ve never been ziplining before.”

“Yeah, so cool,”are the words I manage to force out of my mouth. 

“My mom sent your parents an email with the waiver they need to sign. It’s happening tomorrow after school, so meet me outside and my mom can drive all three of us there.”

“I’ll be there!” Jimmy exclaims, still bouncing around in his seat and grinning from ear to ear.

“So will I!”I try to make my tone sound as much like Jimmy’s as I can.  Then the bell rings and we all jump out of our seats to stay ahead of the mob. What am I going to do? 

***

The automatic doors of Let's Ride Ziplining slid back to reveal a room full of helmets and harnesses. Pictures of ziplines way too high off the ground covered the walls. There I can’t do this. “There’s this thing-I forgot- I-I need to go outside.” I was already out the door before any of them could respond. I sat down on the curb and put my head in my hands. What am I going to do? I can’t do this. Just then Caleb came through the door and sat down beside me.

“Are you okay?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

“I-I’m not good with heights.” We sit in silence for what feels like forever.

“It’s okay. We could go somewhere else if you really don’t want to do this.”

“I-I don’t know. I know you and Jimmy really want to do this and I don’t what to take that away from you.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll go tell my mom and Jimmy right now.”

I think of Jimmy jumping around and the excitement in both of their eyes yesterday at lunch. I can’t ruin this for them. “No, it’s okay,” I call after him, just before he can get through the door. “I can do it.”

***

Suddenly I was climbing the ladder, the helmet squeezing my head, and the harness restraining all the butterflies in my stomach from flying right out. I can do this. Then I was at the top and the safety instructor was attaching my harness to the zipline. He was giving me instructions on what to do, but all I could focus on was the drop, the giant drop. Then I came back to reality and realized the instructor had been telling me I could go for the past minute. I took a deep breath and stepped up to the edge. I looked down at the trees uncomfortably far below me and my face turned white. Why did I say I could do this? I looked back at the ladder that I desperately wanted to run to and climb down. Then I looked down the zipline and saw my friends on the other side. I could see Caleb giving me a thumbs up from here. Jimmy was smiling comfortingly. I looked back at the ground far below me, and then back at my friends. And then I took the leap of faith.

Mirror of Ego

As I sit on my couch, in my sterile, bright white living room with similar decor throughout my house, I scroll through my phone, examining the lives of others on social media. I see a message in my inbox, from someone who I forgot who they were. The message reads, “Hey! I was wondering if you still could help me with my debt like you promised?”

Some nights, I lose myself, why would I promise such a thing? I look back through my messages from that number. I see it started with, “Hi Dorian, this is Mark. We met at the product distribution meeting the other day.” 

I replied, “Hey, what’s up?” 

Mark followed with, “It seems like you are pretty comfortable with your position. Maybe you could spread some of that wealth around?” 

I dropped this exchange cold at that point and had not heard more for days until now. Aghast, I scroll back down and respond to Mark’s recent message with, “What are you talking about?”

“Have you already forgot? You promised me some money for my debt.”

I press the button to unfriend him, and put my phone down for a second, then I hear a notification from Mark, “What? You’re terrible!”

I reply, “I don’t know you, you’re just like every other person asking me for things. You will never have what I have and you will never be me!”

I just want real friends, the people I have met always turn critical when they get close.

I ignore the messages and rest my head back and face the ceiling with my phone still in my hand. The room is silent, it always is. I usually try to put on a TV channel to keep me on my feet. Most of the time I wish someone would come over and talk.. Those thoughts fade away after a while, but now they lay in my mind, a parasite. Why does everyone I know or knew have to manipulate me? I blame my money, I just want to see it all burn, my home, my cash, my status, that is my fantasy.

I notice one of my old friends posted a new photo. He was with me the longest. I decide to give him a call, and after the second ring he picks up.

“Hello,” he greets.

I reply swiftly, “Hey, this is Dorian.”

“Oh, I thought you hated me haha, what happened?”

“I uh, wanted to catch up with you.”

After not responding for a couple of minutes, he finally replies with a soft tone as if he has just witnessed something disgusting, “You’re a terrible friend, a terrible person.”

“What? You treated me wrong, you weren’t a real friend, you’re lucky I’m even calling you,” I respond profusely.

“That’s your problem, you don’t really want friends, you want people who treat you as a god, but you're just a man, a powerful man,” he continues with strain in his voice, “You’re good at hurting people.”

“I am,” I whisper.

He hangs up, I throw my phone and it hits the wall, my palms are sweating and my skin feels like it is sliding off, revealing burning flesh. I’m a terrible person, I’m a terrible person, it repeats in my mind. How could I be so blind? Every clue was there, leading to my fault. I put my hands over my face and move them around, thinking of different scenarios. The times where my friends would distance themselves from me, times where they would only give me one word answers, not full responses, times where they hated me. My power, my clothes, my wealth, are not going to save me.

I blame myself, somebody help.

Jay Liu

11/7/23

A block

Not in Unison

“Wait, b-but I can’t do this!” a young man squeaked, standing on a tiny balcony that protruded out of an excessively tall building on the periphery of the city. He  gripped the side of the balcony as if it were the only thing keeping him from falling into mistakes, failure, and blame.

“Seriously, Unison? It’s now or never! The Wreck Mechs are gonna come and wreak havoc on this whole traffic jammed city in a few minutes if you don’t protect it-- we know you have the skill- just match that with some guts!” a tall man with a goatee dressed in a slick black leather jacket responded with encouragement, sounding friendly but looking ominous in the glow of both the bone chilling luminance of the moon and the neon lights of the city below.

“But what if I make a mistake -- the fate of the entire city is being laid upon my back--”

The nail-biting young man cloaked in a shadowy robe was interrupted by a BEEP of the leather jacket man’s helmet, one that ended the conversation and triggered the young man to gnaw at his nails even more quickly.

“Oops - that’s my signal, I’m off now, good luck Unison! I know you got this - after all, you are the best sorcerer I know!” the motorcycle man exclaimed, tightening his helmet, and then saluting as he walked towards the edge of the cramped balcony that overlooked all of the bustling city.

“Wait no! Gardon--please--,” Unison urgently pleaded as he attempted to grab a hold of Gardon’s leather jacket, a hold of safety and reassurance. But Gardon’s reflexes were top notch, as he swiftly dodged the snatch and swooped up on top of the ledge. Unison’s face hinted a flash of anger and jealousy, but then easily transformed back into the familiar worry. 

“So long, Unison!” And with that, Gardon leapt backwards off the ledge, swooping down into the clouds, into the abyss of the night.

---------------------------------

Inside the warm and cozy, but now empty Orion City’s Tango Burrito Bar was where Unison ended up. After all, he had gotten that call from the Rogue Hero Collection that had informed him about how the Wreck Mech attack had been relocated. So much for stressing out. Unison sighed, and searched his ruffled robe for his phone, but gave up and looked out the window, onto the dark streets lightened up by the busy cars that zoomed by. 

“Stressful day huh, Unison?” The peaceful moment was broken by the gruff but friendly voice of the waiter. “I always wonder, do heroes ever have bad days?”

“Yeah, Walter, you know, being a hero isn’t all great, sometimes I truly believe that being a normal citizen would be way easier!”

“Hmmph. Well easier ain’t always better. Anyways, what can I get you tonight?”

Unison paused for a second, caught off guard by the quick change of subject.

“Oh uhh.. can I get a medium burrito with cheese… and with rice, beans-- no wait uhhh sorry! How about rice, lettuce, and sour cream… no, ranch? No, that can’t be right…” Unison stumbled, his mind wandering through a labyrinth, trying to find the right way to go, but unable to decide.

“Oh! How about-”

BOOM! Schreeeech! Unison jumped, his heart pounding, as his head swiveled to look out the window. Thunderous panic filled the streets where cars had crashed and the side of a building had been blasted open. Some people rushed onto the streets, craving a closer look at the scene while others ran off, not wanting to get involved. Oddly, there was no fire. As Unison leapt out of his seat and bolted outside into the chill night air, his hero instinct told him to scan the skies. No sign of Wreck Mechs… Unison concluded, half relieved, half still uneasy. He looked back at the destruction that lay out before him. A bank had been blasted open, and much of its interior was missing -- either destroyed or stolen. Meanwhile, on the street, three sedans lay crushed together, smoking. The sound of sirens wailed. No no no… this is all my fault, how did I let my guard down- wait a minute. Unison’s squinted eyes shot around the chaotic area, searching for something unusual. Suddenly, two metallic figures swooped out of the night sky, smashing into Unison, and crushing him into the concrete street. He groaned in pain as the crowd of people on the street gasped and the two robots sped up back into the sky, preparing for another attack. Shoot shoot shooot! I knew something was up! Unison jumped back to his feet and looked up at the two slick robots diving towards him at great speed, their lifeless eyes filled with destruction.

“Flamio!” Unison muttered, as fire leapt from his open hands, engulfing the robots and lighting up the night for one second. But the robots kept on diving. What! How?! Unison’s mind buzzed, dumbfounded by the strength of this novel technology. His face scrunched up as he embraced the sharp impact that felt like the crushing of bones. Owwwww…. But then the pressure was released. Unison opened his eyes to the two mean bots holding gleaming, silver swords, looking like tigers ready to pounce. Unison froze for a second, his heart thumping but then last minute panic woke him up, and he dashed off down the busy road.

Soon enough, the robots were on his tail, zooming down sidewalks, crashing through people as if they were only obstacles. Darn it! They’re catching up! These things are nothing like Wreck Mechs. How can I stop them from wreaking havoc on the city?... Unison swiped out his phone while speeding across the streets, and pressed the emergency button. Hopefully I can hold these robots off the city until reinforcements arrive.

Boom!  Unison flinched as he saw the sidewalk right next to where he just had been was blown into charred blackness. This is going too far. These robots- they have no mercy!

“Azaram alio difei!” Unsion yelled, half out of breath, half panicking. A swirl of wind twisted around Unison, then flew off behind him, towards the robots. He heard the CRASH of a collapsing building, as he glanced back and saw that he had accidentally hit a building with his Twister Spell. Shoooot! Dang it, I’m failing! I’m even wrecking this city myself! Unison’s heart twisted with regret and worry as he kept on running. What am I going to do…

I have it! I’m going to lead the robots out of the city so they can’t further harm the civilians. Unison turned around a building, heading for the forest. The dark forest that led out of the city, out of the possibility of destruction.

---------------------------------

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale, Exhale. Inhale Exhale. InhaleExhaleInhaleExhale. Unison stumbled on a branch or a rock or a piece of trash - he didn’t know, as he was running too fast. It felt as if he was diving head first into a hole, a maze of trees winding on and on and on and on. He could hear the constant Bam! Bam! Bam! close behind him - the robots attempting to shoot him down. Just a little longer, and the reinforcements will come assist me… Unison started stumbling more frequently, and the robots were gaining. His legs burned, and his head throbbed from all the spell casting. Suddenly, the land curved upwards. A hill. Unison grunted, his breath pulsating faster than his heartbeat. Finally, he felt the land curve to flatness. Yes! I made it to the top of the hill, it’s only downhill from now! Unison glanced back, forgetting the situation for a second, as he could see the entire beautiful Orion City, normally filled with busy streets and happy citizens. BOOM! Unison flew back, as dirt scattered around him, and trees shook. He landed on the hard earth with a thump, and his whole body throbbed with pain. Suddenly, a slash as quick as lightning sliced through his left shoulder. Time stopped. Then Unison's entire arm screamed out like poison, slicing through his mind. His watery eyes staggered open as he saw the two robots boosting up, back into the air, their cold eyes begging for blood. The robots sped back down - only to turn away. The robots swooped over Unison’s limp body, speeding across the purple night sky. The cold air buzzed. Unison could only sigh in relief. Wait. The robots were headed backwards. Towards the city. Unison lay there on the dirt, his ears ringing, and his heart thump thump thumping. He gripped the dusty earth, clutching on, his head spinning. No, No NONONO!

BOOOMBOOOMBOOM!BOOM!  The night rumbled, the ground shook. Unison cringed, his scrunched eyes holding hints of tears. Unison turned his head towards the city, no longer vibrant or glowing. What the- Thousands of the same robots swarmed the city, destroying every last building. The ground rumbled so hard, Unison almost didn’t feel it anymore. All he could hear was the blame, his mistakes, it was his fault that tons of families would die, here, today, now. In the hands of a “hero”. Unison’s arm was nothing compared to his headache. Tears were streaming down his face. It’s all my fault! I can’t live with this! I can’t live with myself!

---------------------------------

Unison was a pile of tears, laying there, on that hill, several miles from the destruction of Orion City. No more fluorescent lights. No more Tango Burrito Bar. No more Walter. Everything - gone. And it was Unison’s fault. He lay there, in the cold night, his insides burning. It’s my fault, I destroyed the city, it’s my fault…….. No. Unison’s heart froze, and his eyes turned cold. It’s Gardon’s fault. It’s the entire Hero Collection’s fault. They left me in charge of Orion City. They told me I would be okay guarding. It’s their fault. Everything. They killed Walter.  Suddenly, Unison heard a familiar hollow whistle in the air. Gardon. A motorcycle outfitted man with a goatee swooped down from the sky, landing on his feet next to Unison’s limp body. Gardon gasped, wide eyed.

“Unison -- I- I’m so sorry- your arm - are you-you okay? The Collection and I- we didn’t know- they sent me to check on you -” Gardon choked, as he fell onto his knees, cradling Unison’s bloody arm.

“It-it’s not your fault by the way, Unison, I-I should have known, I shouldn’t have made you - I should have listened to you-”

“I know.” Unison stabbed coldly, as Gardon paused, staring deep into Unison’s eyes.

“It was your fault. You shouldn’t have put me in charge of Orion City. The blame - it’s on you.”

Gardon grimaced, clearly wounded. He let go of Unison’s cold arm. 

“Well, you don’t have to put it like that… I- I know you went through a lot, first aid is on the way-”

Unison flinched for a split second, regretting being so harsh to Gardon. No. What am I thinking? I can’t take the blame - it’s easier to blame it on Gardon, even if it means hurting him. And plus, I may have been afraid of making mistakes before, but now I finally realize. Nothing’s my fault if I didn’t want to do it in the first place. I was forced to protect the city. The destruction of Orion City isn’t at all my fault.

                              Breaking Free

Another day, another dollar. What a stupid saying, Mateo thinks. It seems pointless, just like the rest of his life. He wants to kick himself. How ironic. He regrets working his parents over, finally allowing him to play football. That’s all he wanted in life. It’s almost comical how football immediately brings him to a dry state of boredom. He looks out the window. The beautiful weather that’s been blessing the suburbs of Mountain View in Santa Clara county seems to mock him.  What’s the point of getting out of bed? He thinks to himself. But of course, eventually, he rolls over, throwing off the blankets, and plops down in his torture box on wheels. His iron coffin. He had to move all his stuff into the guest room on the first floor after the accident. His biggest worry used to be working hard enough to start at receiver. Now it was the freaking stairs. Melancholy and boring, the mornings are dull and fly by. His only purpose is to blandly get up and go to the disguised prison. He doesn’t taste the cereal he eats for breakfast, just ambles out the door to the van the school sent. 

Mateo never liked school, but now it’s unbearable. Having to take the elevator really takes you down a few, especially if other kids see some random aid trying to help you, oblivious to both that Mateo can easily do this himself, and this brings on more teasing from other kids. Like Knox. Knox is a meathead who would never talk to Mateo under normal circumstances, but then, these aren’t normal circumstances. Which is why what happened happened that one fateful Tuesday in spring.  He had just gotten off the elevator, when Knox saw him. 

“Slow down chariot tubman, you’re going over the speed limit!” He says.

Mateo just keeps going, but Knox is relentless. He comes over, dumping his books on his lap. 

“C’mon man, don’t be like that, I just wanna see a wheelie!”, He grins.

Mateo didn’t want any trouble, he just wanted to get to physics. But then Knox planted both hands on his chest, giving him a rough shove.

“You’re used to this, right? Jamming? You play receiver, huh? Played, I guess. Krip.” 

Mateo’s eyes narrow. He’s usually a mellow kid, but he knows that Knox wouldn’t dare to talk to him like this if he was standing up. He sees red. And then he’s calm. Blessedly calm. The world is quiet, and time slows down. 

“Retard.” Knox mutters, and spins on his heel, beginning to walk away. Mateo lunges. Catching the passes he never could. A perfect spear tackle, driving his head between Knox’s shoulder blades, catching him off guard. He hears a crack. Knox doesn’t even yell, just lets out a whimper before Mateo slams him into the chipped tiles that they would use to measure feet in science. A sickening thud as Knox’s head bounces of the slick, shiny surfaces that the janitor has just cleaned, the ones that make him have to navigate carefully like ice. The momentum sent his chair careening down the hallway, as he struggles to get to his knees. All his anger is gone, and with it his will to try. He sinks back down to his stomach. There is no reason to go get his chair. To get to class. 

There's nothing left for him. And then an aid comes out of the special help room, hearing the thud. Mateo can’t let himself get help from it. It won’t leave. It stands there like a vulture, surveying. And then, 

“What happened here?” it says. He drags himself to his knees. Breathe. Locks out his knees, bracing up against the lockers, standing. Eves surveying the floor. He manages to shuffle. To claw. Hanging on the lockers. He almost falls, but catches himself. Flipped around. He keeps dragging himself along, pretending to have a hurt stomach that makes him bend over. He continues on, reading each name as he slowly shuffles by.  Katrina. Tripping, stumbling. Carl. Rolling. Jimmy.  He sees the dusty ceiling tiles that he used to jump up and pop out of the roof. Now they look miles away. The vulture glides over to him. He roughly shoves her away, but barely gets contact. He slips, trying to find purchase on the slick tile and smooth lockers. He tumbles. And he keeps crawling. Has to. He crawls and eventually starts rolling, while the creature goes to check on Knox. He turns the corner, and there is his chair. He grabs the handrails. Slowly. Sits down. He did it. 

“There you are! What's taking you so long?” Says his only friend, Leo. 

“Oops.” is all he can get out. It's barely a whisper, but it carries in the quiet hallway. Leo strolls around and grabs his chair, starting to push it, but Mateo rips his hands off.

“Uh, you good?” Leo says. Mateo just nods absently and pushes and pumps, putting distance between them. Leo just follows him. Mateo’s determined to do this himself, even though his head feels like it got filled with rocks and rolled down a hill. Him and Leo get to physics in silence, and by the time they get to the door, Mateo has made up his mind. He will try his hardest at everything he does because just because he’s in a wheelchair isn’t an excuse. He rolls into class, and Mr. Powers ignores him, surely dropping his grade for how late he is. He pulls out his notebook and starts jotting down everything on the board making a mental note to talk to him during study hall. People glance at him oddly. He tries to straighten his hair and counts the lace holes on his shoes. 

“How was school?” Mateo’s mom asks. 

“Great” he says, going straight to his room and dropping his bag on the floor. He pulls out his books and calls Leo to ask about physics. He even uses the pull up bar his dad set up in his door a while back and they moved it downstairs. They had to put it lower, though. He’s done getting pushed around. He’s determined to stand up for himself, ironically. And when he hears the landline ring, and his mom yelling at him to get in the car to go to the school, he looks forward to it.

The Food Pantry Frazzles

“MELINDAAA,” Josh screamed at the top of his lungs. The overworked maid rushed into his room to find him perched on his King bed, a controller laying next to his clenched hands.

“What’s the problem?” She asked, catching her breath.

 Josh pointed to his Nintendo which had gone black. “Fix it,” he demanded. Melinda rushed over to the screen and pressed every button to turn it on. Nothing seemed to work and she could see Josh’s face getting redder every second. 

“If you can’t turn on Fortnite, I’m telling mom to lower your pay, I was in the middle of a game,” Josh groaned. 

The poor woman let out a small “Oh!” and tried plugging in every wire behind the 75 inch TV.

A couple seconds later, Josh’s mother barged into the room with narrowed eyes and a frown. “We’re late, hurry up. Are you still on video games!!? Melinda, honey, don’t worry about fixing that he doesn't need video games,” She walked over and dragged Josh up to his feet. Reluctantly, he threw on a winter jacket and all three of them headed out of his bedroom. Melinda turned the vacuum back on and Josh and his mother got in the car and drove away. 

A few Drake songs later, they pulled into an empty parking lot while Josh’s stomach sunk to the ground. He could see the brick building clear now, with the words “Food Pantry” big and bold at the top. 

“This is the grossest place on Earth! Why would anyone ever choose to come here and eat canned food,” he groaned, face all scrunched up. 

“Be respectful!” His mother scolded. “Its you’re fault you have to volunteer here in the first place, Harry’s family didn’t call the cops on you for no reason.” 

He gave his mother a death stare, opened the door and slowly walked toward the entrance. Inside, he wandered into a spacious room where he could see shelves upon shelves filled with cans, boxes, and cartons. There were even more in crates on the ground waiting to be stocked.

Before Josh had a chance to look for a volunteer, a boy around Josh’s age walked in. He was wearing nothing but shorts even though it was nearly freezing outside and looked like he hadn’t had a haircut in months. 

“Hello?” He asked in a small voice. 

“Hey,” Josh’s mouth dropped open and he quickly closed it, hoping the boy hadn’t noticed. “Do you need something?”

The boy walked over and pointed to a can of pinto beans on the wall. “My family is quite hungry so I was hoping I could take a can.”

“Oh, uh, sure I guess. I don’t really know how this place works,” was all Josh could think of to answer. He looked at the boy, and wondered how a can of beans could possibly be enough to feed a whole family. Then, he became greatly aware of the two lunches he had eaten that day, steak tips, and a giant bowl of spaghetti.

“I think you should take a few,” Josh said quickly.

The boy shot him a grateful look before diving into the shelves. Josh couldn’t help the uneasy stare forming on his face. He stood there awkwardly with his hands at his sides and thought about his life compared to the boy’s.

When Josh’s mother finally picked him up, he hopped into the car, still shaken. The leather seats of his Range Rover felt comforting, but Josh’s mind wouldn’t stop floating off to what happened earlier. The car ride felt neverending with all his thoughts swirling. He let out a small sigh when they pulled into his driveway. 

Josh ran upstairs, ready for the warmth and safety of his bed to find Melinda hunched over the TV again. 

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” She whimpered, “I’ve been watching YouTube tutorials and everything, it just won’t turn on. Please forgive me.”

Josh took in the womans wide eyes and for a slight moment, he felt a small stab at his heart. His gaze softened and he realized she must have been working at this for hours. “It’s alright, we’ll fix it up later. Are you hungry? Would you like a snack?” 

With a slight smile, Melinda nodded and followed Josh out. He got out some leftover chicken wings from the night before and gave her a plate. Josh couldn’t help the airy and warm feeling he suddenly got in his chest as he watched Melinda beam as she dug into her food.

 Never Just Wing It

Sam slumped down on the couch, clutching their folder and their ancient, outdated thing that barely qualified as a laptop. They opened their “laptop”, and scrolled through their grades, resisting their urge to throw the device like a frisbee. 6 missing assignments. C in english. “Why can’t I do this? I used to be good!” Sam grumbled, recalling their previous A’s and B’s. “Essays. My worst enemy”, Sam mumbled, scrolling through the sub-80% disasters, courtesy of their growing boredom, and many hours of lying in bed, doing nothing.

They clicked on “Book Essay Draft”. Ugh. Why had the teacher chosen the most cliche, unrelatable book ever? They choked up a few claims, but they all came out as shallow, worn-out platitudes, ranging from “tHe pOWeR Of FriEnDshIp”, to “yoU cAn dO anYthINg if YOu wOrK hARd”, which Sam knew were all B.S. After all, how could someone conjure an essay from senseless, superficial cliches? It felt like trying to bake a cake from nothing but flour and sugar.

Sam pushed down their computer on the couch, and steam came out of their ears. They remembered their teacher’s words, “Remember, the claim should be about how a character changes, or a message that you can take away from the story.” 

They remembered how everyone got started immediately, while they just sat there, stumped, and crumpling their note sheet. Sam seethed, “I don’t even care. I don’t want to go to school. I don’t want to do anything.” They got up, stormed out of the house, and slammed the door. Trudging along on the sidewalk, they lamented “Why? Why? I used to like school, I used to enjoy all the work, but now it’s all boring. Why don’t I care anymore? Why don’t I enjoy the work anymore? Why ca-” 

Sam’s growing anger was halted by a strange sound piercing through the air. A distressed sound, a call for help. Sam’s eyes shot up, down, left, and right. The shrill sound continued, leading them closer. They looked at their neighbor’s house. Nothing strange. They looked at the sidewalk in front of them. Only dry, gray pavement. They went to the edge of the sidewalk for a different view, when they spotted the source, right beneath their feet. On the side of the street, hiding under the edge of the curb. An injured baby bird, with feathers wet with fear, and a leg scratched with pain. Sam kneeled down, and gently touched the bird’s fragile wing. The bird limped towards Sam, desperate to find a way out of the treacherous road. Sam gently slid their hand under the bird, slowly lifting it up to their chest. As they walked back to their house, their previous anger was washed away by a warm, determined feeling. They would not let the bird suffer anymore. 

Sam carried the little bird into the bathroom, grabbed the nearest towel, and wrapped up the bird. They held up the bird, and a smile grew on their face, “You and I really are not so different. We are both struggling with challenges from this tough world. I saved you from the street, you saved me from my anger.” 

Sam got a small chirp in response, and responded with, “You must be hungry. I’ll get you some food.”

Sam rushed out of the house, unhooked their conveniently placed bird feeder, and scooped a small handful of birdseed. They ran back in, ignoring the small seeds they spilled, and held their hand to the bird’s little beak. The bird immediately inhaled all of the birdseed like a vacuum, and turned around its head, looking for more. Remembering how the bird continued to call for help, even in a nearly hopeless situation, Sam was reminded of their essay. “You would have likely died out there, but you didn’t give up. No. You used what little power you had to find someone to save you, and now you are safe from danger. I have more power over my situation than you ever did, so if you can save yourself, I can write that essay,” Sam expressed to the bird, while carrying it to their couch.

They set down the bird in the middle of the table, and got out their computer. With a bird to keep them, the computer seemed less broken, their book seemed less fake, and the essay seemed less daunting. And so, they began to type.

It’s like traveling back into time. After hitting the majestic skyscrapers of Boston, everything disappears and is replaced with brick buildings and cracked pavements. Red lanterns are strung across streets. People are chattering in Chinese, going about their daily life. The streets are small, yet so alive. Somebody is yelling about vegetable sales, delicious aromas from a nearby dim sum restaurant mix with the chilling air of late autumn. Small patches of renovated structures threaten to wipe out the neighborhood. 

I walk down, past littered alleyways and the pungent smell of dumplings.

“Ai-Li!” 

I turn around to see Cindy from martial arts. Ai-Li. Most people call me Zhao Ai-Li, the name I was born with. I call myself Aria Zhao - a cover to feel more blended in. 

“It’s Aria, not Ai-Li -  remember?” I grumble.

Together we walk down the streets. These streets, this area, has built up my whole childhood. 

Yet I still feel so out of place.  

I’m a hundred percent Chinese. We’re called A-B-C-s. American Born Chinese. 

After a while, I realize there was not much in between.

------

Grabbing spare keys hidden under the mat, I slowly open the door. Away from the loud bustle of Chinatown, her small apartment feels like a retreat from the world. 

The world is too quiet, too loose. I find it comforting, like a breath of fresh air after being stuck at home all day. 

It’s still, except for the buzzing of the radiator. Somewhere in the room, Teresa Teng’s Tian Mi Mi plays. A lamp is perched next to a big wooden chair, making the room look right out of a fairytale. I see a frail figure, sifting through a thick scrapbook. 

“Huang Nai Nai, I’m here to visit you…” I whisper, taking off my shoes and slowly making my way towards her. 

“Eh…?” Huang Nai Nai looks up. “Zhao Ai-Li…you have come to visit me?” 

I nod, and hand her a takeout box with fried noodles (that Cindy made). Huang Nai Nai breaks into a gentle smile, and I beam back. 

“Ni zen me yang a?” How have you been?

 “I’ve been well.” she responds. She hands me a small candy in a green wrapper. 

Guava candies. It’s well known that food is a universal love language.

“Zhao Ai-Li, tell me everything. Did you make new friends? How are your wushu performances? How’s Cindy, Kevin, and Amy doing?” 

Suddenly I shudder, wind blows out of the windowsill and washes the back of my neck. 

“Before that, Huang Nai Nai,” I say cautiously. “Can you give me some advice?” 

“Ad-vice-” She stretches the word, clipping the two syllables. “Yes?” 

Taking a deep breath, I whisper, “I feel out of place. When I’m here, or in a Chinese community, I’m too American. When I'm going about my daily lives, people regard me as too Chinese. I don’t know how to belong-” 

“Aiyahh!” Huang Nai Nai sighs. “Ni dan xin TAI duo le.” 

You worry too much. Simple as that. Rolling my eyes, I watch as she halfheartedly leans back on her chair and tosses me the thick scrapbook. “Read.” 

I open it. To my amazement, each fragile page is strewn with pictures, clippings. All the pictures are of me, my friends, my childhood, our childhood. There’s one of me when I was three, clutching a dumpling. A picture of me, Kevin, and Amy. It was in sixth grade, before they both moved away. One polaroid picture of Huang Nai Nai, cradling baby me, her silver hair and wrinkles less defined than they are now. 

“Back then, in these pictures…did you worry about feeling too Chinese and too American?” 

I sigh. “No.” 

“You make no sense, Zhao Ai-Li. Of course you’ll fit in.” 

“It’s complicated, Nai Nai,” I protest. “It’s not as easy as you think-

“You’ve come so far. It doesn't matter, because you belong wherever you go.”

I look at her. Her eyes are closed, mouth pressed in a firm line. 

“Zhao Ai-Li?” 

“Yes?” 

“Back then, when you were little…where you self-conscious about your…er…what’s it called? Identity?”

The answer is no. I never worried about my nationality or identity back then - years ago I was naive and only cared about gatekeeping the bakery (underrated!).

“So why do you worry now?” 

She opens her eyes, glancing at me expectantly. “You must embrace your uniqueness. Stop the bad feelings. Be confident, and know that you belong!”

The music cassette tape somewhere in the room skids to a stop. Now, it’s complete silence. She mutters some curse words then turns her attention back to me. 

“You’re amazing the way you are, Zhao Ai-Li. Don’t worry about how American or Chinese you feel. All this time, you’ve paved an identity that's too risky to lose. Maybe you don’t fit in people’s standards. But you should fit in your own standard. You already fit into mine.”

Then there’s a lump in my throat, the world becomes blurry. I swallow and take a deep breath. 

She sighs. “Don’t cry. Go hangout with your friends. You only love once!” 

“You only live once,” I correct. “YOLO.” 

She laughs. “Okay, go on. It’s almost dinner time. I think you should go home.” 

“Thank you,” I start to pack up. “Thank you for everything.” 

My family lives under the belief that gratitude is the key to success. Recognizing how far we’ve come, not getting ahead of ourselves (the other key to success was taking excessive Kumon workbooks but that was irrelevant). 

 “Bu ke qi,” Nai Nai’s voice rang out. “Remember, you belong where you go.” 

These life lessons sound so cliché. Younger me would’ve been cringing. Yet, I feel nothing but pure belonging. I promise to visit her soon, and walk out of the door.  

Back into the busy streets, cold winds blow and people chatter excitedly. 

“Ai-Li, oh- I mean, Aria!” 

Cindy pauses, avoiding eye contact.  “I-I’m sorry for not saying your name right, it’s really hard, I know you don’t like it, I promise I’ll make it up for you, and-” 

“Ni dan xin TAI duo le.” I tell her. “And don’t call me Aria, call me Ai-Li. Call me Zhao Ai-Li.”

                                                Lonely Move

“Jameson!” shouts my father, wondering why he didn’t just call me. James starts to get me thinking. “Come now, Jameson!” he shouts again.

"Ok, I’m coming, Dad, '' I yell as I’m going down my creaky old stairs, thinking about what I must’ve done to get a call home, if I forgot to take Tux, or maybe even if he found out about what happened with Tariq the other day. "James, take a seat,” says my mom as I sit on the raggedy old couch. My phone starts blaring, so I pick it up as Tariq asks me to come over, and I say sure. My mom and dad have this nervous look on their faces. “You can go over to Tariqs now; we can talk later,” says my father. I walk out trembling with this feeling in my stomach, but I grab my bright blue bike and start biking. As I’m biking over to Tariqs, and I notice on the side of the road some jocks from my school walking like they own the place. They see me and shout “Hey Slippy” as I throw up my finger to them. These kids think they own the place and the school, I can’t wait when they realize that they peaked in high school. As I drive into Tariq's driveway, his mom greets me and welcomes me in. When I’m walking up the stairs, I can hear him and a bunch of other kids. In my mind, I thought that this hangout was going to be just me and him. Tariq has lots of friends around the school, but I’m known as the kid who's friends with Tariq, and believe it or not, I don't love being the school's renowned side character. I was already in a bad mood from those jocks, but now I have to sit through and pretend that I love this hangout with a bunch of kids I want nothing to do with. Tariq has known me long enough to tell when something is wrong, and when he asks about it, I have to bottle it up and not tell him because these other kids don’t need to know about my personal life. He decides to pop a joke when he says, "What did those kids call you slippy again?” not knowing that it actually happened, and I don’t respond. I’m mad about that, but I’m freaked out about my parents and what they’re waiting to tell me. I eventually decide to leave after sitting in a pool of awkwardness for an hour or two, and I start biking, wondering if they even notice me there or not. And of course, those kids are still on the street, just making one big ruckus. Luckily, they didn't see me this time. I hate when they call me Siippy, and they have called me that for as long as I can remember, just because I slipped on my bike while trying to impress a girl. I thought breaking my wrist was the worst thing I got out of that, but it turns out I would have a forever humiliating nickname to go with it.

As I am pulling into my driveway and putting my bike away, I notice that my parents are in the driveway, but not waiting for me; they are doing work in the yard. I walk in a bit confused, but I go get the leash and look for a tux, but as I’m searching, I see these boxes all over the living room. I don't understand why we need so many boxes or even why we have them. As I approach the boxes, I notice that my posters and even some of my clothes are in them. As I’m looking, mom comes from behind me and says, "Jameson, me and dad need to tell you something.”

"What?” I ask.

“Isn’t it obvious?” she says, and then it all comes together: my stuff in the boxes, doing yard work, sitting me down. "No!"Mom, why?” I scream.

“Dad has some business up in Toronto that we need to move out to go to”. I run upstairs, slam my door behind me, and get to packing angrily. I finish and chuck my suitcase down the stairs, thinking this house doesn’t matter anyway. "Jameson, show some respect!”

I wake up to the wheels screeching on the run way“Welcome to Toronto”, the captain says on the speaker. I pull my phone out to check for connections, and Tariq has sent me many texts. I responded back when I landed. I am still not thrilled with our last hangout being with a bunch of people I didn’t know. Everything felt as if it were in slow motion: the conveyor belt, suitcases rolling everywhere, even my dad constantly talking about who knows what. I couldn’t pay attention to anything except for when he said "James, you start school tomorrow”. A look shoots onto my face, as I thought I would get some time. I decided to just throw my headphones on and listen to my playlist. As we got into the Uber, I fell asleep the whole way because it was 3 a.m. and I can’t go to bed on planes. But then I get a nudge on the shoulder from my dad, and just like that, I'm all the way at my house in Toronto. There's a lot of things going through my mind right now, like, Will I fit in or will any of the kids even like me? But I forget about all that and head to sleep on my new hard wooden floor. Ring Ring My phone buzzes as I try to hit the cancel alarm. It all hits me, though. I just realized that today will be my first day without Tariq in years, that no one would like me without Tariq, and that I'm going to have no friends at all without him. Even the bus sucked. I had to sit in the front while everyone gave me a weird look, but as I walked into the school, right away, kids were greeting me. "Hey, what's your name?” someone says.

“It's James; how about you?”.

“I’m Robert, but you can call me Rob”. It gives me a weird but good feeling in my stomach. In my head, I’m wondering if this is a fresh start. Maybe people will start being nice to me and maybe even hang out with me and ask me to hang out.

“Hey!” Rob shouts from across the hall as I’m entering school. I walk up to him and try to build up the courage, but before anything comes out of my mouth, he says, “Wanna hang out after school?”

"Sure,” I say, trying to act cool, but inside I’m filled with joy as the bell screams and we go our separate ways. I’m patiently waiting through the day in the hope that the last bell can just ring already. I’m not sure why, but I am really excited to hang out with Rob for the first time. Part of me wishes it was Tariq, but the other part is just happy to have made a friend.

Fame Over Family

A tree branch taps against my window as a cold breeze enters the room. The mist of my setting spray lands on my face, I hear a knock and  turn towards the door to hear the irritating voice of Gertha.

“Good Morning, Chloe, your breakfast is ready and the car should be here soon. Also, your mother wanted me to inform you that she's been trying to reach you.”

I roll my eyes so far back they might just touch my skull. “How many times have I told you not to bother me about these things?”

“I know but-”

“But nothing. GET OUT.”

“A-and don't forget about the interview at-” 

I slam the door in her face before she can finish. I put on the black maxi dress and black heels that had been set out on my bed for me and headed down the stairs. I see soggy eggs sitting on the marble counters, I don't bother to take them. I glare at the maid standing in front of me as if she's waiting for something. I snap in her face with my eyebrows raised and eyes wide,

“Hello? What are you waiting for? Get my bag already!” I say, throwing on a thick fur coat as I walk out the front door with my heels clicking against the polished wooden floors. I step out and my heel sinks into the snow, I push through it and stand in front of the car door tapping my heel. Mark or Mac or something like that, finally exits his daydream and rushes out of the car. 

“My apologies,” he says with his eyes towards the ground.

I ignore him and sit down on the leather seats. He gently closes the door and runs around the car and into the driver's  seat. I look down at my phone to see a message. It reads, “I miss you, please call back. Love you” I hold down on the message and tap on the thumbs up. The engine starts and the wide gates open revealing the streets of Hollywood.

_________________

The car pulls up to the building in a struggle as groups of people crowd the car with cameras and microphones. The driver turns off the car and pushes through the cameras and microphones to get to my door. Escorts come out the building and lead me inside from there. Im rushed into a makeup room. There are stage lights all over the place, workers running around and adjusting camera angles and crowds of people taking their seats. I sit down in the makeup chair and people shove brushes and beauty blenders in my face. Someone bursts into the door with an earpiece and a clipboard.

“On stage in 30 seconds!” 

They attach a microphone inside my shirt and a cable goes down my back. I stand on the right stage entrance waiting for him to be ready. 

“Now let's all welcome in…Chloe Manson!”

That's my queue. I strut down the stage trying not to squint from all the lights. I look around to wave at the audience. I look back at the interviewer and flash a smile. He gets out of his seat to greet me, we exchange a hug and I sit down on the leather couch next to him. The interview starts off well, I get the usual questions like how I deal with paparazzi and if I enjoyed filming my recent movies. But of course I just had to get the question.

“So how about your family?”

I look around and try to laugh a little,

“Oh uhm yeah they’re great” 

Normally this would be the end of the family questions, but it continued,

“That's great! I was just wondering, how do they deal with your fame? Does it affect your relationship? Do you visit them?”

The list of questions just wont stop. The questions whirl around in my mind.

“I..”

 But nothing comes out. The crowd waits for at least one answer. The silence was deafening. I try to think and think and think but nothing comes out, I feel a drop of water come down my face, I turn my head down so no one sees. If I wipe my face  my mascara will smudge and this will become more of a disaster, but I can't help it. I start to cry. There's no hope in trying to save this now. I get up and off the couch and run off stage. Everything happens so fast. I hear the crowds whisper and the directors panicking but I don't care, I just keep going until I'm back in the car.

I swing the door open and throw my purse onto the seat. Rivers of tears wash off my makeup. I climb into the car while uncontrollably sobbing. The driver looked back, he was eating chips and had his airpods on full blast.

“Chloe! I'm sorry I didn't expect to see you back so early!” He says, with a mouthful of Doritos. He looks down at his suit and quickly brushes off all the crumbs on him.

“JUST DRIVE.” I yell, with sobs in my voice. He quickly starts the engine and starts to drive.

“Are you..ok?” He asks as he looks into the rearview mirror with pity in his eyes.

I manage to compose myself for a couple seconds to say,

 “I don't want to talk right now.”

I lie my head against the ice cold window and stare through it, snow falls as kids play and girls skip around hand in hand with their mothers, a little boy on his father's shoulders. A notification from my phone buzzes in my pocket, I take it out to see the notification was from Snapchat. It reads, “Hey Chloe check out this memory from 10 years ago!” I click on it. It's a picture of me and my mom, I'm shoving ice cream in my face and she's looking at me with stars in her eyes. We both have the biggest smiles and whipped cream on our noses. I kept scrolling, I used to be so happy. Every scroll was another picture of a girl, a girl with a heart, a girl with a smile, a girl with a mom.  I laugh at the pictures with a sniffle and close Snapchat. I open the phone app and see all the red calls from “Mom”. I keep scrolling and scrolling but the missed calls don't end. She always called me and I always ignored. I turn off my phone and look towards the front, the driver is still looking back at me through the mirror. 

“Sorry, I'm fine.” I say, trying my best to force what's meant to be a smile.

_____________

I lie on my silk sheets when I hear a knock at my door. 

The door creaks open and Sammy says, “Can I get you anything ma’am? Snack, Food, Blanket?" 

“Sure, whatever.” 

When the door closes and I turn on my phone and I go to the phone app. I scroll down to the profile with the name “Mom”. My finger hesitates over the call button when it starts to vibrate in my hand.

    My phone reads,“Incoming call from Mom.” and without hesitation I press, “pick up.”

“Perfect”

The hotel shined bright, the windows filled with sunshine and flowers, and a huge flier laid right in front of the main entrance. “28th Annual Sunya’s Wushu Kung Fu Competition” it read, in both English and Chinese.

“Ugh! Still no,” she had redone her eyeliner five times… now six. “Okay, whatever, that will have to do.” 

Cindy looked in the spotless hotel room mirror reflecting her pale lips. “And now I get to put on my mom’s old, nasty, lipstick!” she groaned. 

She wished she had her own makeup products, like the other girls. The other girls even have makeup specifically for competitions! Cindy sighed. I guess I'll just have to wait until I’m older. Cindy finished up her last stroke of lipstick and checked herself out in the mirror. Cindy gave herself a half hopeful wink before leaving the bathroom to see her ma carelessly lying down in bed, texting her girlfriends on Wechat. 

“Mama, do you like my makeup?” she asked, slightly proud of herself, after all she had done it all on her own.

“Oh huh?” her ma replied and looked up at her, her accent slightly seeping through. “Looks okay, but did you seriously take 30 minutes to put on some lipstick?” 

Cindy felt her hands clenched into fists, her little little confidence rushing away, before she pushed her anger back down. 

“Maaaa, it's not just the lipstick!” 

Her ma squinted her eyes at Cindy.

“Maybe a little blush? I don’t know?” her ma relaxed her eyes. “You better hurry up, you don’t want to be late to your competition…”

“Okay, whatever, I’m going to put on my uniform.” Cindy carefully took her bright red uniform off of the shelf and brought it to her side of the bed.

“抓点儿紧 Cindy 可以么！你在准备去武术比赛还是去爬月亮？” her mom scolded her for being too slow. They both stayed silent until it was time to leave the hotel room.

Cindy rushed into the bus, moving her legs as fast as she could carry them. Her ma didn’t even go with her because she said Cindy was fine on her own. The bus was packed full of people wearing all sorts of different colored uniforms and accessories. The dirty floor was bedazzled with sparkles that had fallen off of people's clothes. Cindy had to sit with a girl she had never met before and who she presumed to be the girl’s mother. 

The girl had a purple uniform with gold sequins all along the right side and on the left sleeve, both its front and back covered with a swirling phoenix embroidered in the shirt. She had the perfect bun plopped right on the top of her head, not a single strand hanging out. Not to mention her gorgeous makeup consisting of a purple sparkly eyeshadow that matched her uniform, perfect eyeliner, a clean red lipstick, and her blush was actually even on both cheeks! Unlike her own. Cindy squirmed into a little tight ball as she felt her weight shift closer to the aisle, trying not to look at the other PERFECT girl…

Too late.

“Hi, my name is Aria, what’s your name?”

“Oh hi, umm, I’m Cindy, y-your uniform is very pretty,” Cindy awkwardly replied, carefully placing her hands in her lap as she twitched her thumbs from side to side. 

“Wow thanks! Your makeup looks really good!”

“Yeah, I know it’s not very good, it could never compare to your professional makeup since I had to do it myself-”

“Oh! No, I’m not joking, it’s certainly more simple than mine but it looks way less crazy!”

“Aria, don’t get distracted. You need to focus on your fist form!” her mother interrupted in a stern voice.

“Yes, mom.”

It was like there was a knob that turned Aria’s voice quiet, her voice was so loud and confident, but then obedient as soon as she turned to her mother.

“I am so sorry about that, I didn’t mean to cause any trouble,”

“No, no, that had nothing to do with you!” The silence of their row of seats felt loud even though the rest of the bus was practically screaming. And once again, Cindy went back to staring at the shining floor of the bus.

“See you around. Cindy,” Aria waved as they left the bus to enter the building.

“Bye!” 

Cindy’s nerves grew as she walked into the crowd of kids beside the entrance. Cindy entered the old rusting building, found a relatively empty practice mat and started warming up and stretching. A few minutes later, Aria spotted her and came to join in.

“Aria, I’m going to go to the bathroom, you better be practicing, not goofing around with your new friend!” Aria’s mom demanded. Aria waited for her mother to leave before starting up a conversation with Cindy.

“Hey! Um, sorry about earlier, my mom is just really strict about my competitions… and just wushu in general,”

“You know, I kind of wish my mom was a little more like that. My mom is like the complete opposite, she didn’t even feel the need to come!”

“Huh,” Aria paused for a second, thinking, “I never really thought about that before, I kind of always just hated the way my mom does things, but I guess it is pretty annoying if your mom doesn’t even care the slightest bit.”

Cindy listened carefully, letting Aria talk. 

“My mom spent the whole morning doing my hair and make up, you’re lucky you get to just do it yourself.” 

“I guess so- anyways, your mom is coming back, But good luck today!”

Cindy waited patiently on the  competition carpet waiting for her turn, but unlike in the morning, she didn’t drown herself in nasty comments. Instead she thought to herself, Nothing’s perfect, my clown makeup looks kind of wack and my uniform has a few wrinkles, but maybe that’s kind of cool! I’m more independent. And even if my ma isn’t here, I know Aria will be on the sidelines cheering me on.

      MANGLED MIA                                  

She’s walking in the sticky, perfume smelling air of bms. It always ruins Mia’s hair. Everyone's walking and talking, the noise echoing through the brick building. So many kids, all having different personalities and feelings. Everyone is walking and talking except one girl. 

Jennifer leans against her locker and says to Mia, “I could never be as nice as you.”  

But People saying nice things about you come with consequences. Not being able to be rude or mean makes you a target for oppressors. Mean, tough oppressors. 

Mia is nice to anyone, but not everyone will be nice to her. As she strolls down the long tile covered hallway, she notices everyone. Who she really likes, and who she secretly hates but will never tell anyone to avoid conflict. She may even notice the boy she has a crush on, but this boy teases her. He calls her “Mangled MIa” because one time she dropped all her books in front of him. She’s surprised he even knew the word mangled but it was still so embarrassing. But Mia still thinks he's perfect, with the way he talks and the way his hair looks when he poofs it up. She doesn't really notice the way he treats others, and when someone tries to say it to her she doesn’t listen.

As the last bell rings, Mia walks out of science and goes to her locker, directly across from math and packs up her stuff. But then she notices Josh(Her crush). He's talking to his friends laughing aggressively, his hair bouncing up and down when he laughs. Mias has this pit in her stomach that wishes it could be her that's laughing with him. But he would never feel the same way about her that she feels about him.

But she just gives up, knowing it will never be her. She just walks down the long tiled hallway towards the stairs and out the door, but she notices Josh and his friends walking close behind giving her a weird look.. Omg, maybe he finally notices her. But she just takes her normal route through the forest, about a mile from her house. No one usually is walking here because it's away from where most people live. Most kids live near Newton center, but Mis lives the opposite direction from there.. As Mia is walking along the trail she hears heavy footsteps and boy’s screaming behind her. She knows that scream from anywhere. She turns around to see FREAKING JOSH and his 2 friends. 

They see Mia and yell, “HEY MANGLED MIA, ARE YOU ON YOUR WAY TO MANGLED TOWN?” 

The hair on MIa’s neck starts to come up. Oh no. Why would they ever talk to her, none the less pick on her? She starts to run as fast as she can towards Clock Drive, feeling like she's running in slow motion because of her nerves and how fast the boys are running. They are way faster than her and start to chase after her. She sprints to the edge of the trail and behind a tree. Still running, Josh and his 2 friends run around the tree and to the end of the trail. 

They see Mia and yell, “THERE YOU ARE” and shove her against the tree and punch her as if they were in an all star wrestling match. Mia starts to tremble, eyes becoming watery and lips starting to quiver.

She screams, “NOOO,” piercing with pain and her heart beating as fast as a race horse.

She tries to move, but it feels like she is moving in slow motion. She feels someone hit her against the tree, but she can’t tell if it's Josh or someone else. Their punch is as strong as a rock, knocking Mia out even if she is awake.  The 3 boys stop punching her, eyes bleeding with a gleam of achievement.  They finally run away back down the trail and near the school while Mia limps against the tree, body barely moving. She isn’t too badly hurt except for a couple scrapes, a knocked out body and a broken heart. Why? She feels too heavy and exhausted to move, so she just lays against the head of the tree, head tilted up, body laying straight.

When MIa finally feels fine enough to walk home, she slowly glides through the woods and into the opening of the fence to her apartment. If she could feel any emotions other than pain, she would be steaming. She slowly goes up the narrow grimy stairs to her small apartment. She grunts in pain. Thank god her mom isn't home so she doesn't have to explain everything to her. She goes to her room and sleeps fully to recover from her afternoon.

When she wakes up from her nap she can hear the crickets chirping, and the moon gleaming brightly into her room, so she decides to crawl back into her slumber.

In the morning of school, she wakes up early, ready for her day. Or not.

“GOD HOW COULD I LEt THIS HAPPEN IM SO STUPID,” she yells with great might.

“This will never happen again.”

 Oh she is not messing around. She has never felt this angry before. It feels exhilarating. Maybe even awesome that she can feel this angry. 

“I need a plan for today,” she thinks. 

“Well I know the first thing is I will never look at Josh the same again. He's a piece of trash for even thinking about beating someone up. I should’ve noticed the way he always is. Before he called me mangled Mia, he would always try to trip me when I would walk to her 6th period.” That's when MIa would try to be nice to people so they aren’t mean back

That morning, she makes a plan to tell her teacher everything. She wants to get back at Josh for everything he has done. She knows she can get back at him. No more nice girls. No more letting people step all over you. In the morning before school, Mia changes her outfit a little bit. Instead of her old hand me down pink sweater, she opps for a black hand me down sweater and jeans with a little perfume. She waits for the bus, eager to get back at Josh. She gets off the bus first and walks quickly to her favorite teacher, Miss Smith's room. 

Mia’s palms start to sweat and she is breaking into a sweat. But she’s got this. Mia tells Miss Smith everything, from liking Josh to him chasing her down a trail, and by the end Mia is happy to get it off her plate.

 “I’ll handle this” she says in a strong tone, while Mia looks at her nervously, but with a celebratory smirk on her face.

                                                                                                   Kavi Hagerty                                                                                                

                                                                                          11/7/23

                                                                                          D block 

                              Breaking Free

Another day, another dollar. What a stupid saying, Mateo thinks. It seems pointless, just like the rest of his life. He wants to kick himself. How ironic. He regrets working his parents over, finally allowing him to play football. That’s all he wanted in life. It’s almost comical how football immediately brings him to a dry state of boredom. He looks out the window. The beautiful weather that’s been blessing the suburbs of Mountain View in Santa Clara county seems to mock him.  What’s the point of getting out of bed? He thinks to himself. But of course, eventually, he rolls over, throwing off the blankets, and plops down in his torture box on wheels. His iron coffin. He had to move all his stuff into the guest room on the first floor after the accident. His biggest worry used to be working hard enough to start at receiver. Now it was the freaking stairs. Melancholy and boring, the mornings are dull and fly by. His only purpose is to blandly get up and go to the disguised prison. He doesn’t taste the cereal he eats for breakfast, just ambles out the door to the van the school sent. 

Mateo never liked school, but now it’s unbearable. Having to take the elevator really takes you down a few, especially if other kids see some random aid trying to help you, oblivious to both that Mateo can easily do this himself, and this brings on more teasing from other kids. Like Knox. Knox is a meathead who would never talk to Mateo under normal circumstances, but then, these aren’t normal circumstances. Which is why what happened happened that one fateful Tuesday in spring.  He had just gotten off the elevator, when Knox saw him. 

“Slow down chariot tubman, you’re going over the speed limit!” He says.

Mateo just keeps going, but Knox is relentless. He comes over, dumping his books on his lap. 

“C’mon man, don’t be like that, I just wanna see a wheelie!”, He grins.

Mateo didn’t want any trouble, he just wanted to get to physics. But then Knox planted both hands on his chest, giving him a rough shove.

“You’re used to this, right? Jamming? You play receiver, huh? Played, I guess. Krip.” 

Mateo’s eyes narrow. He’s usually a mellow kid, but he knows that Knox wouldn’t dare to talk to him like this if he was standing up. He sees red. And then he’s calm. Blessedly calm. The world is quiet, and time slows down. 

“Retard.” Knox mutters, and spins on his heel, beginning to walk away. Mateo lunges. Catching the passes he never could. A perfect spear tackle, driving his head between Knox’s shoulder blades, catching him off guard. He hears a crack. Knox doesn’t even yell, just lets out a whimper before Mateo slams him into the chipped tiles that they would use to measure feet in science. A sickening thud as Knox’s head bounces of the slick, shiny surfaces that the janitor has just cleaned, the ones that make him have to navigate carefully like ice. The momentum sent his chair careening down the hallway, as he struggles to get to his knees. All his anger is gone, and with it his will to try. He sinks back down to his stomach. There is no reason to go get his chair. To get to class. 

There's nothing left for him. And then an aid comes out of the special help room, hearing the thud. Mateo can’t let himself get help from it. It won’t leave. It stands there like a vulture, surveying. And then, 

“What happened here?” it says. He drags himself to his knees. Breathe. Locks out his knees, bracing up against the lockers, standing. Eves surveying the floor. He manages to shuffle. To claw. Hanging on the lockers. He almost falls, but catches himself. Flipped around. He keeps dragging himself along, pretending to have a hurt stomach that makes him bend over. He continues on, reading each name as he slowly shuffles by.  Katrina. Tripping, stumbling. Carl. Rolling. Jimmy.  He sees the dusty ceiling tiles that he used to jump up and pop out of the roof. Now they look miles away. The vulture glides over to him. He roughly shoves her away, but barely gets contact. He slips, trying to find purchase on the slick tile and smooth lockers. He tumbles. And he keeps crawling. Has to. He crawls and eventually starts rolling, while the creature goes to check on Knox. He turns the corner, and there is his chair. He grabs the handrails. Slowly. Sits down. He did it. 

“There you are! What's taking you so long?” Says his only friend, Leo. 

“Oops.” is all he can get out. It's barely a whisper, but it carries in the quiet hallway. Leo strolls around and grabs his chair, starting to push it, but Mateo rips his hands off.

“Uh, you good?” Leo says. Mateo just nods absently and pushes and pumps, putting distance between them. Leo just follows him. Mateo’s determined to do this himself, even though his head feels like it got filled with rocks and rolled down a hill. Him and Leo get to physics in silence, and by the time they get to the door, Mateo has made up his mind. He will try his hardest at everything he does because just because he’s in a wheelchair isn’t an excuse. He rolls into class, and Mr. Powers ignores him, surely dropping his grade for how late he is. He pulls out his notebook and starts jotting down everything on the board making a mental note to talk to him during study hall. People glance at him oddly. He tries to straighten his hair and counts the lace holes on his shoes. 

“How was school?” Mateo’s mom asks. 

“Great” he says, going straight to his room and dropping his bag on the floor. He pulls out his books and calls Leo to ask about physics. He even uses the pull up bar his dad set up in his door a while back and they moved it downstairs. They had to put it lower, though. He’s done getting pushed around. He’s determined to stand up for himself, ironically. And when he hears the landline ring, and his mom yelling at him to get in the car to go to the school, he looks forward to it.

When Worlds Collide

chapter 1: the first war

A car horn honks and I flinch. There isn’t anything new around here. I breathe in the fall air, and stare at the now changing leaves, and the sun high in the sky. I guess I’m just paranoid. I think to myself. Nothing ever happens, and I doubt anything ever will. I’ve been scared of everything for as long as I can remember. That’s probably it. I stare into the distance, toward the edge of the place we call home. The inhabitants here are about as diverse as it gets. Living toys, stickpeople, living food, entities, monsters, spirits, robots, mutants, titans, prehistoric creatures, you name it.

______

“Hey, Leo!” one of my friends exclaims. 

“Hey, Tye,” I reply. “I’ve got a bad feeling about today.” 

Tye smirks. “You have a bad feeling about every day. You’re scared of everything.” 

I sigh. “You're right. Nothing scary ever happens around here.” no sooner than the words are out of my mouth that we hear it. The siren. We’ve heard it before, in drills, but there isn’t a drill today. Everything stops. A voice blares over the speakers, 

“ATTENTION. THIS IS NOT A TEST. WE ARE UNDER ATTACK. GET INSIDE AND HUNKER DOWN. ALL MILITARY PERSONNEL ARE TO MOVE TO THE LOCATION OF AND ENGAGE THE ATTACKERS. DO NOT ATTEMPT TO COMMUNICATE WITH THESE CREATURES UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES.” It takes a few seconds to register what is happening, then everybody is moving. Cars peel away like it’s a street race. A group of stickpeople duck into a house. A few plushies hide in a nearby building. Tye understands what to do. 

“Leo, get inside now!” He says as he runs off. Tye is in the military, so he has to help fight back. I run inside and grab boards, furniture, anything, slamming it over the entrances. I turn off the generator and cut the power, my breathing shallow, trying to be as silent as I can. 

_______

It’s been almost five hours before something happens. I’ve taken a nap, eaten some instant noodles and stared through the boards of my front window, holding the pistol I store in my house, wondering when I will have to refuel the generator in order to get enough oxygen. Then I hear an explosion. There have been explosions because of the military fighting back., but not as close as that one.. I check the news app on my phone. I stare at it in shock. The military is retreating. They’re losing to the monsters, which are identified as nullvoids.. The military is asking anybody who can fight to come and help. But why should we? What difference can we make against creatures that can teleport, and drain your life energy? Then, I’m interrupted by a pounding on my door. It’s Tye! I pull away the boards and let him in. The rest of his unit follows, either slipping into houses, or running off down the street. He sighs, “Thanks, man. I thought that I would never get here.” He explains that the nullvoids were able to overwhelm them because of their numbers. He said that they needed more fighters, to protect the innocent people who would be the first targets of the nullvoids. I finally realized why I should help. I wouldn’t be able to guarantee my own survival, but that didn’t matter to me. I would fight the nullvoids, to save the people who could not.

_______

Tye understands my goal, and He lets me take his weapons. I realize the Nullvoids are outside. I have two options, as I see it. I can go in guns blazing, or I can stun them and fire from cover. In the end, I decide on option 2. If I try to go in guns out, I would probably get five seconds before they overwhelmed me. I hurl a flashbang, and they notice it. They stop for a second, and stare at it. Bad idea, I think to myself. The flashbang explodes, and I fire. The blinded monsters can’t even hear their comrades falling. By the time they do, about 30 of them are dead. They charge me, and no matter how many fall, more appear. The first one reaches out at me, and I know that it’s over. Then, with a bang, the nullvoid collapses in front me. Time seems to stop. Then, another nullvoid falls. And another. A battle cry starts. Millions of people, the whole population, come charging out, killing any nullvoids in front of them. I glimpse a stickman cyborg on an electric scooter, yelling defiantly as he shoots, a robotic hedgehog possessed by a void creature, and even an entire army of humans. Only later would I find out what happened. When all of the reporters ran off, they left their equipment, which kept filming. When people realized that I was fighting back, They decided that they could help too, and rallied by the hundreds to join me. In moments, the nullvoids are on the run. They leap into the air and vanish. A cheer goes up. “We did it!” “We beat them!”

Burning Regret

A smile lurks from ear to ear as I hear the people chanting my name. I walk back into the meeting room and close the balcony door behind me. The ground rumbles with a steady drum beat of the soldiers marching back to the barracks. As I walk down the long stone-cold hallway I pause to admire myself in the reflection of my golden pocket watch, and admire the sparkle of my well-decorated uniform and the beauty of my mustache.

I took a refreshing sip of cold water and sat back when suddenly there was a knock on the door. As expected, General Himmler arrived at 10:30 on the dot with the prior day's report. “I have good news for you sir,” Himmler states as he hands me the docket. As I start to skim through the page I see we successfully conquered all of Osternberg. My heart drops as I look through the rebel casualties. “Ottomus Berger.” My head fills with an image of Otto and I throwing stones into the water's edge from the shore of the river where we spent most of our spring afternoons avoiding our homework. A spark, an ember, a sizzle. I drop the paper and it bursts into flames like my heart, like Otto-never to be seen again.

.

I slide into bed and shiver as the cold sheets seem to freeze my back, my legs, and my entire body becomes numb with a chill. As I try to slow my breathing, the fast rhythmic beating of my heart becomes the only sound I can hear, and I feel it pulsing through my body, so fast.  My feet ache.  My body is sore and exhausted, but my brain is still racing “Why am I feeling so much regret? I have accomplished so much and can see ultimate success nearly within my reach. Why does the loss of Otto bother me so much?” I try to calm myself, but my heart still races.  I need to fall asleep now, so this weight on my mind will be clear by the morning. I breathe deeply, feeling my lungs fill with air and the cold sheets rise with my chest.

No facial expression, complete emptiness. I walk into the factory and hear “Hello sir” coming from every person in the factory, at the same time, with the same bland emotion, with the coordinated perfection of my pocket watch.  As promptly as they greet me, everyone immediately goes back to work. There is no difference between each person. Every single one of them has the same blue eyes, blonde comb-over, no facial hair, white, and a straight face. I walk by them and they don’t react. As if I am not there. Everyone's the same.

I start awake. The sun’s blinding light penetrates the white roller shade that hangs over the large window next to my bed. I push back the sheets, stretch my sore body, and force myself to roll out of bed.  I put on my uniform, combed my hair, brushed my mustache, and told my cook to prepare breakfast. “What is wrong sir?” asks my assistant. “Nothing, I am fine,” I reply. Deep down I want to tell him. I can’t, I must stay strong.

Better days

I walk past the crisp air, of a cloudy Tuesday in December. I open the old rusty door, and stroll past the big sign, “Welcome to Oak Valley.”  I turn the corner and run past the dusty stairs to find my locker with papers jumbled up like a chaotic jungle.

 ***

I walk down the hallway that includes white and blue tiles and dap up my homeboy, “Wassup bro?” 

‘Chillin, what about you?” 

“Yo, Ms. Smith is going to be pissed with me bro, I haven't finished the project from last week!” 

“Don’t worry you’ll be fine” Jared utters.

***

I finish my school lap of walking around school with my friends, and head back to the jungle looking locker. I snatch my green binder and walk over to math class, where I’m greeted with contemptuous, and inflexible Ms. Smith. I take a seat and get out my all black chromebook . I open it up silently and start playing games. Suddenly Ms. Smith runs in the classroom. I slam my computer shut. Ms. Smith begins her lecture, then remembers the projects!

“I need everyone to take out their projects.”

I stare at the yellow looking ceiling with rainbowy posters and famous math quotes, trying to act clueless of the situation. Ms. Smith collects each project one by one, then gets to me.

“Shit,” I whisper, “Shit, shit!’ 

“So, where’s the project Luke?”

“I, um I forget it at home,” I say, doing my best to avoid Ms. Smith's dark and sinful eyes. My heart begins pounding like I was in some sort of horror movie.

“Guys, this is an example of a zero. Why, because it's a piece of paper with some sketches on it,” She shouted, “Shame on you Luke, shame on you!” I sit there all embarrassed with laughter coming from the back seats, but too scared to look at who it was. I pull up the hood of my hoodie and stretch it over my head to cover my face. My heart felt hurt as if a wasp stung me in the heart of my chest.

As soon as I hear the loud rumbly bell, I sprint out of the class, weave past students, drop some papers, and arrive at the locker. Where I’m greeted with mosh pits around me as though I was in a rap concert. I slip by kids, Nike sweatshirts, and Jordan shoes, and find the jungle looking locker. There I find myself looking at a mirror I installed inside of the locker sobbing and shedding tears. Damn, this is so embarresing, I pray nobody looks near me. I sit there for about 30 seconds and hear footsteps. Please don’t talk to me, whoever you are.

“You good bro?” Nathan mumbles from behind me.

“Yea, I’m fine,” I say with drops of tears rolling down my cheek.

“I can help you, just tell me what’s wrong,” Nathan murmured

“Ms. Smith held up my sketches to everyone in class, and told everyone that it’s an example of a zero,” I sob

“Try using the assignment notebook, I know it’s nerdy but trust me it works.” 

“Ok.,”

***

. Once again the loud bell rings and the hallway rush begins. I take my shirt wipe my face, and reach out to grab the orange binder with the label; Science. This time, I grab the assignment notebook, and make my way to the class. I see the old projects hanging from the outside of the class.

“Oh hey Luke, ready for some exciting science?” 

“Mhm,” I mumbled under my breath 

I look over the whiteboard, and it says, “This week's homework assignments.” I flick my assignment notebook to me, and scroll through until I find 12/8/2023. I look past the english section, and find science. I scribble down the homework, “Finish Organizing the essay planner.” I look down, it seems as if  the hardest level of this school game has begun. An overwhelmed look rattles upon my face and tenses up my body. 

***

The bus finally swerves around the block and comes to a stop and screeches the big black wheels. I open up my phone case and grab the bus pass, as I scan it for the driver. The rowdy bus finally arrives at the playground, I creep up to the front of the bus and sprint out of it. Slam open the door, slip my shoes off my feet and get to my room. I can’t believe she did that, in front of everyone is she freaking crazy!? What’s wrong with some of these teachers. My hands grip my pillow and my face stuffed in it with tears sliding down my cheek into the pillow. I finally find cried out all the tears and think to myself I hope tomorrow, I get a good grade on the; organizing essay planner.

****

“Everyone open your computers, and get to the organizers on Google Drive. Your grade should be on Schoology..”

I quickly shoot open the Schoology page, go down to the science page, and rotate my screen into grades. Scroll past the past C’s, and find the organizing planner:  94/100= A” Butterfl fly in my stomach and a smile rises on my face. Yes, yes.

The Truth

If I were Scarlett? I wouldn't do this. Nope, not at all. I would laugh my way through everyone’s judgemental stares, then, I would dare them to question it. I use that knowledge to power me, and it propels me through the classroom and into my desk, placed strategically in the corner of the room. In elementary school, we used to have these brightly colored posters hanging from the walls, but now, in middle school, only the bulletin boards silently watch over the classroom.

 And after I dared them to question me, I would know that the entire time, nobody would do it. And yet, each day, it seemed as though that confidence was slipping away from me.

---

“What’s your name?” she asked, her bold voice carried across the room. Without waiting, she began to bombard me with questions, “My name’s Scarlett, by the way. Are you ready for school?”

It was the first day of school in second grade, and I had gingerly chosen a seat in the middle. Nothing ever interesting is in the middle row, I thought, before a new girl had shown up to class, and sat down on the seat directly next to me.

“Um, I guess? I’m not sure,” I mumbled, avoiding the piercing and curious gaze of her green eyes. That wasn’t true, I thought, fiddling with a pencil. In reality, I had been eager up until this point. Up until when reality sank into me, and I finally realized there would be no Tracy or Clara to be friends with this year. Until I realized I really had moved away, and that I was truly in a new school, in a completely new place. 

I looked up from the table, only to see Scarlett stare back, directly at me, unimpressed.

“Oh, ok.” Eventually, this repeated enough times for her to stop asking questions, and to begin her lengthy discussion about her summer. As I began to drift away in my thoughts, Scarlett finished her lecture, and landed me back into reality.

“You should really try going to that amusement park sometime! It was so fun this summer,” Scarlett concluded with a grin.

The next day, I knew exactly what my favorite hobby was, and by complete coincidence, it also happened to be Scarlett’s. As soon as we knew it, we became friends. Best friends.

---

The bell rang loudly as people began to shuffle into classrooms. For a moment, all was silent, until a tall teacher came into the room and began on his lecture. I sat there for a while, trying to listen, but it was no use. Staring blankly into nothing, all I could really think about was the rain pounding against the windows. I closed my eyes, pressing them shut, trying to fight the onslaught of headaches.

All of a sudden, there was a knock on the door. The teacher, Mr. Joe narrowed his eyes and in came a new student I had never seen before.

“Sorry! I completely lost my way,” she laughed, a sound that sounded so wrong compared to the hushed whispers in the room. “I’m Jenna, by the way,” she added, rocking back and forth on her heels, her face confident despite her completely mismatched shoes and clothes. Even from the back of the room, she radiated an intense energy. Mr. Joe murmured something, and pointed his long, wrinkled fingers towards the empty desk next to me.

Jenna grinned, striding over to me.

Of course, the monotone buzz of Mr. Joe’s voice was soon muffled by an overwhelming amount of thoughts. 

After a couple of minutes, Jenna leaned over subtly, then whispered, “Oh my gosh it’s only been five minutes but I can already tell this is the worst class so far.” She gave a small hopeful smile, drumming her fingers on her desk, head tilted slightly. Without thinking, I channel my inner Scarlett, a name I had decided to give this part of me.

 “I’m Jenna, but you already knew that.”

After I reminded myself to sit taller, I tilted my chin up as I responded, “Celeste.”

“Celeste! I assume you know what you’re going to do for the group project, since you decided to keep talking through directions,” Mr. Joe boomed, setting off a wave of faces to turn and look at us. I nod as my heart thuds inside of me, chipping away at the bits of Scarlett that remained inside of me.

Thankfully, he doesn’t say anything else as he waves us off into assigned groups of two. I remove my eyes that are glued to the floor, and look up at the board. Somehow, by pure chance, the universe decides to turn against me once again. Next to my name, in ugly bright blue letters, is Jenna’s.

“Great! A project on a book I’ve never read or even heard of? We got this!”

I inwardly grimace at the careless volume of her voice. Sure, I’m not amazing at writing, but I’m good enough that it matters. 

Hastily, I mutter, “Sure we do.” Strangely enough, I could see Scarlett doing the same, but then shove the thought away. Focus. It’s what Scarlett would do.

“So, in the meantime . . . tell me about this school. What’s happening? Anything I need to know?” Jenna interrupted, a grin creeping up her face.

“Well, this school is fine, I guess. Everyone knows each other by now, and not much is happening right now. After a year full of drama, I’m just looking forward to April break, honestly,” I sighed, going completely off-character. A fist clenched at my heart at the second of the slip-up, and I realize being Scarlett isn’t an option. 

“Why? What happened? Tell me more.”

“We don’t have to talk about that,” I laugh back, despite my quivering voice. Scarlett left me for supposedly “better” friends. She moved away, to a place where I would probably never see her again.

It was like a child purposefully prodding a bruise checking to see how the pain slowly fades, only to stir it up again. It was strange, the ease of acting like Scarlett before she moved away. 

“Fine, but don’t think I’ll forget, I’ll find a way,” she says back.

“Listen, can we just focus already? I’m not gonna stay up late finishing this project for you. Honestly, Jenna, you can’t keep doing this the entire class. This year was horrible, and you’re not helping,” I snap back, desperately trying to ignore the immediate twinge in my gut, as Jenna’s eyes widen and her lips press together, no longer in her permanent grin.

I bite down on my tongue, hard, as a painful silence fills itself into the gap between us, punctuated by the clicking of computer keys and the steady buzz of the room.

“Hey, are you ok?” she asks softly, balancing the fragile silence between us. “Listen, I know this probably doesn’t fix everything, but I’m sorry. I really am.” She takes a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment, then responds to her own question, “This year has been rough for me, too.”

“No, it’s fine, really,” I stammer away once more, my gut twisting at the sight of her sympathy, but Jenna doesn’t comment. Slowly, she offers a smile, one that reaches into her eyes.

“If you need anything, I’m here for you.” In a blink of an eye, her words melt me from the inside out. And I realize that I don’t care what the world thinks, don’t stop to wonder what Scarlett would do.

For the first time in too long, I smile. 

The world feels just a little brighter.

Ariana Xible-silva

11/7/23

C block

No one knows what I've been feeling. I flip through the pages to see girls with small waists, big lips, long hair, and light eyes. If I looked like her would I be noticed, would I not be judged on my appearance? I squeezed my legs close to my chest, shut my eyes tightly, and started to talk. Hoping someone out there would understand… or even listen. “Make me like them.” I closed my eyes tighter. I open them and run to the mirror. Full of disgust when I look at her, she's ugly and every day she gets uglier, she has greasy hair, her teeth are too yellow for a boy's liking, her thighs are so big, no one wants a girl with stretch marks or acne. I want to punch her, she deserves it, but if I did my mirror would shatter…

    ..………

Tuesday morning I woke up to the sound of the irritating alarm. I rolled over to check the time, I was late. I jumped out of bed and threw on a big hoodie, with even bigger sweatpants. “ So much for becoming a model.” I say walking out of the front door giggling. I was on the bus now, I heard some commotion but thought it was just someone else coming up with some new insecurity for me. I walk off the bus listening to my favorite song, bopping my head, and having a feeling that today is going to be different... But that feeling couldn't last forever. Could it? I see one of the popular girls crying in the corner. I was thinking of going up to her but I just kept walking. I move on with my day and go to all my classes. 

        ..………

The last bell rings “Thank god!” I say to myself. I leave class, with my hood up head down, grab my backpack, and leave the building. Soon a group of boys walked up to me yelling “You're a solid 2! Isn’t that embarrassing.” and “God you might be the ugliest one here.”  I walked on my bus acting like I wasn't hurt by what they said, and I'm sure other girls felt the same way. 

       ………..

I woke up extra early today. I want to say there was no particular reason why, But there was… I wanna say I dressed up for myself, but I didn't. I want to say that I put on all this makeup to make myself feel better, but I didn’t and it sure didn’t work. I’ll carry on with it just to see how I feel throughout the day. Mostly to see if I'll get a higher rating or more attention from the boys. 

      ………..

I hop on the bus. Everyone was staring. When I say everyone I mean everyone, considering I'm the last stop. I walk down to the end of the bus, take a seat in the only seat that's open, put my headphones in, and take a deep breath. Soon we get to school and I see the group of boys from yesterday. This time they aren’t laughing or yelling, they are holding up signs with 9s and 10s on them. Suddenly I don't feel the feeling I was hoping to feel. There was no spring of joy. If I'm being honest I felt stupid. I didn't get any validation from this. If anything, I feel worse than I did before… I knew what I had to do, and I was gonna do it.

           ………..

I run down to the office right before the last period starts, speed walk to the little phone machine that makes the announcements. No one was in the office, not even the secretaries. I was lucky. I punch in some numbers and lift the phone. “God I hope this thing is on” I could hear my echo from the hallway.

 “ Oh, Hi.” I pause, my voice cracked. Take a deep breath… “ I want to say something to the girls out there who are feeling that you have to change yourself to get some sort of approval because you don’t. Because nothing is ever good enough for the male gaze, right? Don't wear too much makeup, boys don't like that. But make sure you do wear makeup because without it they won't think that you're pretty enough. Don't eat too much, boys like fragile thin girls, but don't starve yourself, because guys like girls with a little meat on their bones.” I take a deep breath “Don't have sex, guys don't want a girl that has already been touched. But remember never say no to sex because boys won't accept you if you don't want to do it with them. Don't dress scandalously, you’ll be called a slut. But don't cover yourself up fully because boys won't even look in your direction... Don't you see, at the end of the day we are just silly girls trying to impress silly boys. Why can't we just please ourselves? You are all beautiful and don't let anyone else tell you otherwise.” I put the phone down. I felt relieved. I was feeling something that I hadn't felt before… Confidence.

It’s All About The Art

The paintbrush flies across the paper, making strokes on Ben’s linen canvas. The doorknob to the Art Room turns, and Nathan enters the room.

He asks, “Ben, how’s the painting going?”

“Not good… Why did Ms. Winters put me in Honors art, she knows that art is not my best subject,” Bens sighs.

“What do you mean? Your artwork is amazing! Remember that portrait you did of me? It was so good, and I looked so handsome.” Nathan exclaims sarcastically.

I sigh, “No it wasn’t.. It was so bad. I did the anatomy all wrong!”

“Whatever you say. I’m heading home, good luck on the painting.”

____

I wait for Nathan to leave, then look at my painting. What could I add to make it better? It looks so weird. Why can’t I be good at painting! Everyone says I’m good, but I think they’re lying. I sit there in silence, thinking of any ideas I could use to improve. One day. One day, I will be good at painting. 

____

I walk into Art Class, and everyone looks at me.

“Oh, there you are Ben!” Ms. Winters shouts, “I have news for you.”

News? I hope it’s not bad news.. Wait, did I do something wrong? Did I get a bad grade?

“I have selected you to participate in this year's Town Art Competition! Isn’t that exciting, you will get to show off your art!”

“What! Why? My paintings aren’t good enough for a competition.” I frown. Why would she pick me? I’m not good enough. My art isn’t good enough. Does she just want to embarrass me? Everyone’s going to laugh when they see my art pieces.

Ms. Winters see’s my expression and says in a comforting tone, “Ben, your art is beautiful. Trust me. Whether you think so or not, it’s amazing!” I can’t tell if she’s joking or not, does she really think I’m good at painting? Maybe I am kinda good..

____

I place my canvas on the display, full of other students' art pieces. I glance at the other paintings.

“Ugh, theirs are so much better than mine,” I mumble. I take a bit of time to look at some of the paintings close up, while waiting for the competition winners to be announced.

____

I see Nathan walking towards me with our other friends Melieka and Sophie.

“Ben! There you are, we’ve been looking for you.”

“I was just looking around,” I mumble.

Melieka runs up to me with excitement, “I can’t wait to see the winners. You’re going to be, at least in the top 5, your painting is one of the best ones here!” I shrug, I’m not sure if I’ll get top 5. I think at most Top 15.

“Hey, what’s wrong? You look a bit down. Don’t worry, you’ll do great,” Nathan says, giving me a thumbs up.

“Sorry, I’m just not that confident right now. I’m fine though.”

“You’ll do great! And even if you don’t place, me, Melieka, and Nathan will be cheering you on,” Sophie smiles, “You’ll definitely win Ben!”

“Alright, alright, I trust you guys. Let's just wait for the announcers now.”

____

“Attention everyone. We will be announcing the winners in a few minutes. Contestants, please come up onto the stage,” an announcer says. I head up to the stage, and wait for the winners to be announced. I look around in the audience and see Melieka, Sophie, and Nathan, in the crowd cheering.

“They are really good friends,” I mutter, smiling.

“Third place goes to.. Ella from Blue High School! 2nd place goes to Steve from Wood High School! And finally, first place goes to…” The announcer exclaimed. I breathe in and out, I wonder if I have a chance to win. Probably not, but we’ll see.

Finally, the announcer says, “Ben, from North Wake High!” Wait.. did they just say my name? Did I.. win?

“I won! I can't believe it, I didn’t even think I would be on the podium!” I celebrate.

____

Everyone claps for me. I feel, what's the word? Happy? Yeah. I feel happy, I am proud that I won first place. People liked my painting.

“Ben please come to the middle of the stage to receive your medal and prize.” I walk to the center to receive my things. They put the medal around my neck and hand me my prize.

“A candy basket? Seriously?” I sigh. Who would give someone a candy basket as a prize?

Nathan runs up to me and screams, “I told you people would like your painting! You got first place! Congratulations, We need to celebrate!”

“Yeah, let’s celebrate!” I smile.

“Also, why did they give you a candy basket as a prize? That’s so random. I mean, who would want a candy basket? It has almost no value to it.” he says sarcastically.

“I know right!” I laugh. We meet up with Melieka and Sophie, then walk out of the building.

“You know what? I’m glad. Maybe I’m not so bad after all,” I smile.

It's Not All About the Money

Walking through the front door of my house, my phone starts to buzz. I tap the article. But this one is different. In the picture, I see my parents underneath a headline that reads, “ Local Scammers Finally Caught.” As I read through the article, my jaw drops. My parents scammed more than 50 people that were hanging out in parks and were able to do it for about a month but only now got caught.

I go to sit on my couch in pure disbelief and just like in the movies I get a call from my mom, 

“Hey honey, I've got some bad news. Your father and I were just arrested.” She tries to explain why they were doing it but I don't care. How am I supposed to get lunch at a restaurant without any money or buy a new phone or computer or whatever? 

“ Oh. My. God. You're ruining my life!!!” I scream not caring how stupid I probably sounded to the neighbors. As I start to steady my breathing, I ask her how long they will be in jail for and they're going to be in jail for around a month and a half. So much is going on in my head causing me to not manage to think straight, which leads to me accidentally breaking my moms favorite vase. Things get especially worse when I get told the worst news. I'm going to have to live with my Aunt Candice. By now I'm pacing around the living room because it's not like I'm rich or anything. My family is comfortable, but my aunt is um. Let's just say she can't afford new clothes very often - poor, she’s kinda poor - so I probably won't be able to either.

I can't handle this horrid news all by myself so I call Fin. “ That kid better not ignore my call because I know he’s probably not doing anything right now.” 

“What's up Alex?” Yes! He answered! I tell him about how my parents are going to jail, send him the article and tell him about how I'm going to have to live with my aunt. By now I'm rushing all around the house trying to find something, anything to distract me from this… this cruelty. All the while, Fin is telling me stuff like “don't worry things will get better.” Or “stop rushing. You'll make it worse for yourself.” I get he's trying to help be supportive but he's not doing a very good job.

_______

Upon pulling into my aunt's driveway, I see a lady in mismatched clothing who looked like she was trying to be embracing, but was failing to do so. As I was opening my car door, I contemplated just closing it and driving away. While looking her over, Aunt Candice helps me bring my bags inside her house when I noticed the dirt and the dust in the corners of the wall along with the cobwebs on the ceiling. It was clear she didn't have a cleaning lady.

When I woke up that next morning, I asked Aunt Candice for money out of habit which earned me a whole lecture on working for money. “Sorry to break it to you, but in this household we don't just ask for money. We earn it. I don't care what your parents did with their money, but things are and will be different here. Understood?” She said laughing to herself. She then sent me out the house with a newspaper in hand and told me to not come inside until I found a “help wanted” section in that newspaper that I'd be capable of actually doing. Wanting to be able to go inside the house, I went to the only person that I knew would help me. “I need help, Fin! Aunt Candice told me I can't come inside the house until I get a job!” I tell him with displeasure. Luckily enough he agreed to help me out and we looked through the paper during lunch- I had to eat the nasty cafeteria food - and study hall. Surprisingly, we found a job that I would be able to do. There's a job opening at a Micheals for cashiers and that looked easy enough so I decided to apply for that. When I told Aunt Candice, she helped me to prepare for the interview. She asked me the questions that would be good to know for the interview such as: what experience do I have, am I good with people, how often can I be there, which is all pretty easy to answer and probably going to be simple enough. The next morning I went to the interview in The one piece of clothing my parents ever gifted me and called Fin, “Wish me luck!”

The lady interviewing me was nice enough and thought that I would be a pretty good fit for the job as long as I could get there on time after school, so if I want to be able to buy stuff again and stop having to eat the school lunch, then I guess I'm going to have to. I raced home and exclaimed to Aunt Candice, “I'm a working man now!” She was so proud we went out to dinner to celebrate right after pulling me in tight for a bear hug and not letting go. I suppose things with her will get better.

      _______

After working my first month I'm actually starting to realize what Fin and Aunt Candice were talking about because this is actually kind of hard. I have to ring in rude customers, go to the back to look for stuff that we often don't end up having, restocking and it all takes so much time and energy out of me. I barely even end up spending the money that I have earned because it was hard to get in the first place. Today two ladies got in a fight about some certain bracelet related item that we only had one of and I needed to sort it out because I was the closest one to the argument and I ended up having to call security. OVER BRACELET SUPPLIES. It was so time consuming but at least I know that I am going to be getting paid for it because the same day I also had to work overtime. My co-worker Danny had to call out sick for his shift so I was the one who had to take over even though it wasn't that bad. I've been trying my best to try and help support Aunt Candice by asking for a few extra hours at work, but it’s stressful. People aren't willing to give up their hours all that easily because they too want the earnings. Along with that even though I haven't managed to pick up as many hours at work, I still feel like I rarely ever get to see Fin anymore, and I hardly remember what it was like to just be handed money all the time because of how often I'm working. When I'm not at Micheals, I'm doing my homework or projects at home because I can't afford to waste time somewhere else in case I need to leave to somewhere else. I really wish I could catch a break.

          _______

I just got the news that my parents are going to be getting released from jail in about a week which is nice and all but I've actually come to enjoy living with my Aunt Candice. She taught me to work for the things that I would like to have and I really appreciate that. She also took me in before I could have managed to be at an all time low which I am never going to forget. When I see Fin at school that day, I ask him if he wants to go out to lunch at a restaurant down the street for the first time in a while because I've been saving up. 

“You know what Alex, that sounds like a lot of fun. As long as you're paying for both of our meals,” he jokes.

“Sure, why not,” I say.“You're my friend and you have helped me out a lot in the amount of time I've known you.” I told him. When we get to the place it’s nice inside, but the thing that is even crazier is that I see my parents there. They are getting lunch and didn't even tell me that they were out of jail after being no contact for a month and a half. No, instead they are out a week early and I wasn't notified, but I don't need them or their stupid charity. I am my own person and have actual values unlike those two. Instead of getting really mad, I just go home. I head upstairs to my room and grab my phone and turn the volume up, and listen to music as I fall asleep. 

Ariana Xible-silva

05/22/24

C block

Just stop

“She’s gone Nana.. I'm sorry.”  Just stop. Sorry isn't gonna fix anything. Sorry isn't gonna bring her back. So he's talking to me but his words are pointless. blank. I'm sitting here in another country, and my mind is blank. You would think someone would break down in tears, but I guess those words didn't really hit the heart yet. Spiraling. Here we are again but now I'm sitting here in another country spiraling, thinking about all the things I could've done, perhaps noticed she was sick sooner, maybe called her before she went into surgery. And the worst thing is, I don't even remember my last words with her.

******

I walk through the boarding gate. I'm home. But the air feels different. Maybe it was because I wasn't used to the cold weather yet. Or maybe not. I walk out of the airport doors but the floors feel uneasy. The pavement felt more rocky, rocky like a hurricane came in and sweeped our grounds and replaced them with new ones. 

********

As I walk into my home a familiar smell fills my nose. One of the only things that seems to have stayed the same. The once lively atmosphere feels quiet and empty. Her absence feels heavy on my heart, with every room I walk in it feels as a painful reminder that she is actually gone.  Each room holds memories of moments shared, now frozen into snapshots, in the back of my mind. The pictures in my phone that once brought me comfort now serve as a cruel reminder that the void of her being gone isn't going to and will never be filled. Will this wound ever truly heal? Or will it sit as a scar. A memory to never be forgotten.

********

I remember the day vividly. It was a warm spring afternoon, one of those days where it felt as if the sun would never set. The sun was beaming down on the church. The air was heavy with heartache. We waited at the entrance so her coffin would be carried in. I can feel my tears begin to form. I think to myself  The funeral hasn't even started Ariana, suck it up as we slowly walk into the church and my family finds a place to sit. I sat quietly, holding a tight grip on the tissue in my hand. As we listen to hums from the church choir, the priest begins to speak, his words filled with emotion. I look at the glass murals and how the sun glistens through them casting a heavenly scene. The sun dances and plays on the mural, as it begins to set. I felt a wave of sadness wash over me, memories of her laughter, cooking and stories begin to come back to me all at once. The mass seemed to stretch on longer, every moment feeling longer than the last. And yet there was a sense of peace that settled over me as we listened to the priest’'s words. Despite the pain and the loss there seemed to be a love in the room, a shared understanding that we are all in this together.

*******

The mass soon came to an end. As we emptied out the church, the sun had begun to set, making a golden glow over the church and the surrounding trees. It somehow made me feel better, as if she was already watching over all of us. As we stood outside the church all of us talking, there was a moment where I found myself looking for her, longing for her presence. But I felt, I think  we all did.

********

In the next few weeks and months that followed I would often think back to the day at the church. It was a bittersweet memory, a reminder of how fragile life is and the importance of living life in the moment. And even though the pain of loss never really goes away, I found comfort in the fact that her presence lives on in our family, and I know she would be so proud of all of us for how far we have come.