Bloom SEAL 2023

St Elizabeth'sArts&LiteraryMagazine ispublishedannuallytoshowcase thecreativeworkofAcademystudents ThestudentsinDigitalPublishingclass whoproducedSEALMagazine2023 selected"Bloom”asthetheme tocelebratetheliftingofspirits asthecommunitygetsbacktonormal.

Beingthefirstfullschoolyearsince theCOVID-19pandemicwithnomasks orrestrictions,studentssteppedout frombehindtheirmaskstoflourish socially,academically,andpersonally-togreetlife'schallengesandbloom

Theworkpresentedinthismagazine showcasesthetalentandhardwork thatgoesonthroughouttheAcademy asstudentsblossomintostrong, confidentyoungwomen

Thank You

JanetAntico

KimberlyBorin

EllenDenuto

CatherineReilly

CaitlynRoper

CristinaRovayo

AlexandraSettembrino

Staff

EmmaBradley

MiaD'Angelo

ReaganGavrilovic

LilyMoran

MaureenBrady,Advisor/Instructor

Mountainscape - Acrylic by Jenna Brenner

Thecla - Watercolor by UmaSofia Srivastava

Boxes

Boxes.Ineverknewsomeone’slifecoulddependso heavilyonthisoneword.

Evenbeforethewar,IwasthatUkrainiangirl.Any chance I got, I talked about Ukraine. Because if I didn’t, then who would? Often in classes, it would becomearunningjokewhenIwouldbringupUkraine. Itwasneveroutofmalicethatpeoplewouldchuckle; it was more their lack of understanding. And, in all honesty, I didn't fully understand at the time why I caredsomuch.

Allthatchangedinamatterofminutes.

Itwasaround11PMwhenmymomgotacallfrom my older cousin in Ukraine. She was speaking in English,whichwasn’tsomethingshewouldusually do.Shestartedsaying“Theyareattacking…missiles havebeenfired.”Wedidn'tunderstandwhatwasgoing on.Wasshewatchingamovie?Wasshereadingsome newsarticle?

Itwasn’tamovieoranightmare.Itwasreality.Russia declaredwaronUkraine.Onephonecallchangedthe courseofmylife.

I knew I couldn’t just sit by and watch, as the very streetsIhadwalkedcountlesstimesbeforewerebeing destroyed, as humanity and democracy around the worldisbeingthreatened.BeingthatUkrainiangirl meantsomethingmorenow.

February 24th opened my eyes and the eyes of my classmates--thedaymyheartwasattacked,thedayI diedalittleinside.PeoplefinallyrealizedthatIneeded to talk about Ukraine because Russia has tried to destroyUkraineforcenturies.Theyhavetriedtowipe awaymypeople.Itallclickedforthem,andevenfor myself.MyheartisUkraine.

Thenextmorningmyfamilydroveintothecitytojoin othersprotestingtheatrocitiesRussiawascommitting. ThousandsofpeoplefloodedthestreetsofNewYork. Ihadneverfeltmoreconnectedtomycommunityas

by Uliana Leshchuk

we chanted different slogans: “Glory to Ukraine! Glorytoourheroes!”AsIyelledwithallmymight,I looked over and saw my mom tearing up. At that moment,IrealizedhowstrongmytiestoUkraineare.

Mynextcourseofactionwasahumanitarianaiddrive. WhenIhelpedmymomplanthedriveafewdaysafter February24,wedidn’texpectsuchaturnoutfromthe American community; it was uplifting to see. The collectionhadnotevenbegun,andtherewerealready hundredsofboxes.Carswereflowingin,backingup intothemainroad.Overathousandcars,athousand families,ordinarypeople,comingtotheaidofthose whomtheyhadnevermet--peoplewhoareanocean away,peopletowhomtheyhavenorealconnection.

Bytheevening,thewholecenterwasfilledwithboxes of medical supplies, food, clothes, sanitary items, shoes,andmore.IfeltlikeIwasbeingenvelopedby boxes, and in that moment I was living up to what beingthatUkrainiangirlmeant.

Andwereturntothatonesimpleword:boxes.

People in Ukraine now rely on boxes of aid and supplies.Theydon’tevenhaveshoestoputontheir feet.Bombsflyovertheirhomes.Iwakeupandcall myfamilyhopingthattheyarealive.

Boxes.

AsUkrainehasfoughtonformonths,Ihaverealized thatIcomefromastrongnation.Eachday,asIwatch mypeoplestruggleandmyhomelandbeingdestroyed, IrealizethatIhavebeengivenanimportantandunique task.Iamtaskedwithcarryingonmyculture.While agenocideisbeingcarriedoutagainsttheUkrainian people,language,andculture,Irefusetoletitdie.I mustfightforjusticeandimprovethisworld.Imust worktoprotectdemocracy.Evenifit’sjustonebox atatime.

IamproudtobethatstrongUkrainiangirl.

Woman - Acrylic by Devyn DeLaura

by Chengli Payton

Harmon: the piano player, the overnight celebrity, the complete and utter artist. Cordeliawaswhatthetabloidsreferredtoas an “enigmatic prodigy.” For one reason or another, Cordelia’s lifestyle piqued the interests ofeveryonefrom Gen-Z TikTokers to elderly patrons of the arts. But in the confinesofherownhome,Cordeliafeltlike the world’s richest starving artist. Her mind had an insatiable hunger that only her piano couldappease.

Today was like any other. “Beethoven beforebreakfast,andsonatinasbeforesupper” was Cordelia’s music coach and mentor Eunice’smantra.ItwasthankstoEunicethat Cordeliahadbeendiscoveredasapianist--and becameasmashingsuccess.Cordelia’shands found their way to the keys of her glass Steinwaypianoshehadaffectionatelynamed Philip-- after Philip Glass, one of the most influentialcomposersofthelate20thcentury. It was a thing of beauty, really. It was supremelystate-of-the-art;therewasnothing elselikeit.Eunicehadcalledit“fitforaqueen” thedaythemoversbroughtituptoCordelia’s apartment in Manhattan's Upper East Side. She lived in a hotel owned by Benedict Bellamy,arealestatedeveloperwhowaslike asecondfather.Hehadbeenoneofthereasons Cordeliastartedplayingthepiano.Well,there hadalsobeenRenée.

Cordelia still had a hard time speaking aboutRenée.Shewasunlikeanyotherwoman the pianist had ever met. Benedict's wife, Renée,hadbeenanunstoppablelifeforceuntil thedayshewasn’t.Sufficeittosay,Cordelia neverwentabove60milesanhouranymore. Benedict, on the other hand, returned to normalcywithoutRenée.AsmuchasCordelia lovedBenedict,shealsoloathedhimfornever bringingupRenée.

Foralltheawfulthingsthathadhappened, atleastCordeliastillhadherpiano--88keys werealwaysthere.Herbenchcreakedasshe reached for the croissant that Benedict had broughther.

smackeddownahugeLouisVuittonbagthat held everything from music theory books to

wintergreen breath mints. Cordelia thought ofEuniceasthefinestmentorapianistcould have, but quite possibly the worst nurturer andconfidante. Lately,Cordeliahadbeenin a nervous state, and Eunice’s blunt personality did nothing to appease that. DespiteallofEunice’sfaults,bothwereclose andsharedatacitrelationshipofamentorand aprodigy: nothingmore,nothingless.Some days, she wished they had more of a mother-daughterrelationship.Maybeitwas becauseshemissedherownmother,whowas living the sweet life back home at their Greenwich estate. Cordelia desperately wanted to return home and embrace her family, but Eunice maintained an iron grip ontheprodigy’sschedule.Affectionwould notcometoday;itwasadayfordrilling.Up anddownCordelia’sfingersflew,racingto onekeyaftertheother.Cordelia’smindwas swirling;regrettably,anyplansforthenight were nonexistent. Around one in the afternoon, Eunice left, dashing off to an impromptu Pilates session. Had they really beenpracticingthatlong?

MeasureII-TheReverie

How many weeks had she not fed the horses,walkedthroughthegardens,orsatin the cozy bay window in Greenwich? Disruptingherdaydreamalltoosoon,there wasaknockatthedoor,whichmeantonly

Homage to Henri Cartier's Martine’s Legs by Amanda Jimenez

one person. Hugo bustled in, erasing any plansofvisitingfamily.Shepausedtoadmire Hugoforhistallstature,histousledhair,and evenhisannoyingoutfit.AsHugobentdown tograbacroissantshewonderedwhyhewas sofascinatedwithher.HowcouldHugobe so enamored with her-- a boring piano prodigy?Sheshruggedawayherdoubts,and turnedbacktohim,smilingandclosingthe lidofherpiano.

HugolookedatCordeliawithapuppydog grin. His two main dispositions were “Golden Retriever” and “bachelor.” He pulledouthisphone,zoominginonapicture ofanightclub.Hereyesgrewwide,realizing thatthiswouldbejustthethingtogetherout ofherfunk.AsHugowasramblingonabout this club called “The Silence,” Cordelia mentallywentthroughherendlessclosetof extravagantoutfitsgatheringdust.Shehadn’t beenaparty-goersincecollege.Oh,whata partygoer she had been, frequenting

exclusivebars,nightclubs,andvenues.Leaving thepartylifeandattendingJuilliardhadn’tjust launched her lucrative career; it had launched herintotheabyssofmusichalls,recordlabels, and seeking endless perfection. She was overwhelmedbyheronlinepresenceand,most ofall,herstatus.Statuswasawordthatscared her, but "influencer" scared her even more. Cordelia could imagine an uncomfortable number of people who had her pegged as an influencer and a “social media presence.”

Cordelialikedsocialmediabutthepressureand amountofeffortneededwereoverwhelmingat times.Hermother’sreassuringvoiceechoedin hermindasshetriedtoshakeawayself-doubt.

At any rate, a place like “The Silence” sounded appealing. It would obviously be anyhingbutsilent,andshewantedthediscord. Toomanyclassicalpianopiecesaffectaperson. She wanted something in her life to be less predictable,andlookedforwardtoanightout.

MeasureIII-TheDiscordance

That night, before Cordelia slipped beneath her silken bed sheets, she said a prayer.Shewasnotmuchofabeliever,but everysooften,aprayerwouldhelpherfocus. What if I can’t function? Lord, if you're there, I need a little help. Despite these stressors, she managed to slip into a deep sleep.

Like a slap in the face, Cordelia’s eyes flewopen.Thesoundwascomingfromthe window. A shady figure appeared, casting anuglyshadowonthecarpet.Cordeliawas paralyzedwithfear,butsheremindedherself that the figure couldn’t be real; this would pass. This nighttime visitor had an evil, twistedgrinonhisface.Admittedly,thiswas notthevisitor’sfirstappearance;ithadbeen making selective appearances for at least a month. This disfigured shadow always appeared at the window, when the line betweenrealityanddreamsblur.Itwasjust afigmentofherimagination;shecouldnot bringherselftoadmitthealternative… Lyingquitestill,shemanagedtoeaseher anxiety and take deep breaths. Not a soul couldknowaboutthis.Eunicewouldcarther off to a psychiatrist in disbelief, or hire security guards around the clock. Cordelia admonished herself for imagining such a sinister possibility. Ghosts and “things that gobumpinthenight”werereservedforher beloved books, like The Picture of Dorian Gray. So, instead, she imagined how enjoyable The Silence Club would be with Hugo.

For some inexplicable reason, Cordelia awokecheerfullythenextday.Shespentthe morning prancing happily around her apartment, singing, and ordering cookies fromLevain’s.Eunicehadcalledpromptly at 8AM, confessing that Pilates class had wipedherout.Cordeliasuspectedthatitwas the thought of mentoring her that wiped Euniceout,butremainedsilent.Notgiving hermentor’sabsenceasecondthought,she keptpianopracticeshortandwentabouther Friday.Theweekendbeckoned!

(Continued on next page)

Audrey Hepburn - Colored Pencil by Reagan Gavrilovic

(Continued from page 5)

Thatevening,atnineo’clockonthedot,Hugo knocked at the door. Cordelia hurried to the door in her stilettos, shimmying down the hemlineofhergorgeousValentinomini-dress. Soon enough, the two were in his Porsche, zoomingdownthecitystreets,orasfastasthe Big Apple avenues allowed for. Below the impressive city skyline, the crowd tittered whenCordeliasteppedout.Memoriesofred carpets, Carnegie Hall, and obsessed fans flooded her mind. Smiling and flipping her hair,shelookedattheseaofcaptivatedfaces andwonderedhowplayingthepianohadgiven hersuchfameandrecognition.Itdidn’tmatter howorwhy,didit?Shewasherenow,living her best life. After scribbling a multitude of autographs and pouting for selfies, she bypassedthelineandwasswiftlyescortedinto thebouncingclubbyalumberingmanwhose nametagsaid“Dexter.”Cordeliachuckledat thehilarityofDwayne“TheRock”Johnson’s doppelganger being named Dexter. Slipping her arm into Hugo’s, the couple walked in. Despite looking around the dance floor and feelingthemusicinherchest,shedecidedthe barlooked…enticing.

MeasureIV-TheSilence

Beep. Beep. Beep. The sound of a heart monitor jarred Cordelia awake. The stinging odor of rubbing alcohol– not the type of alcoholsheenjoyed–permeatedtheair,asdid the stark lighting. The last thing she clearly rememberedwasyelling,“Atoasttoanight that I won’t remember in the morning!” Alerted by Cordelia’s rapid heart rate, a concernednurseappeared.

Afterspendingafewdaysresting,Cordelia wasfinallyallowedtohavevisitors.Hugosoon arrived,leaningoverthebed.Tearswelledin hereyesasHugopattedherhandsolemnlyand slowly told her the story. Though Hugo was usuallyadescriptiveperson,hekepthiswords somewhat vague. But Cordelia knew in her heartwhathadhappened.Shestartedtorecall flashes of light, shadows, and screams. She remembered being violently shoved to the ground.Sherememberedamanscreaming,"I love you, Cordelia!" She gulped emotionlessly. She noted some familiarity about the attacker,butshecouldn’tquiteplacehim.

The nurse interrupted and motioned for Hugotoleave.Asthetwosqueezedhandsa barely detectable tear rolled down Hugo’s cheek.Watchinghimwalkaway,Cordeliafelt grateful for his love and support; it almost erasedtheangerandconfusionshefeltabout herattacker.Darknessandsleepsoothedher racing mind when the nurse turned out the

light. When she awoke, Eunice was there with a pitiful smile on her face, offering a bouquetofflowersandaplushteddybear, sans any hint of piano drilling books. Cordelialeaptupfromherbedandembraced Eunice with the strength of a bear. At that moment,therewasnoanxietyorpain,only peace.Thehugwaseventuallyinterruptedby thenursewhisperingthatCordeliawasbeing discharged.

MeasureV-ElFine

Back at home, Cordelia sensed a shift. Oddlyenough,shefelttentimesbetterthan she had the night before her accident. Prioritiessetstraight,Cordeliawasnotabout to let anyone dictate her life. Still, she accepted her circumstances and she was grateful to be alive and well. After all, her mother had always believed the human anatomywasstronganditknewmorethan the brain did. Despite a still-aching body, CordeliahadasmuchenergyasHugo.Every dayshewhistledgleefully,tooklongwalks inCentralParkwithHugo,andspentquality timewithEuniceawayfromthepiano.

A couple of weeks after the accident, Cordeliawentthroughhersocialmediafeed. She had neither visited social media conspiracy theory videos, nor any Access Hollywood segments.Mostofhertimehad beendevotedtorecuperatinginadditionto cooperating with police and lawyers. The wholethingwasadazeandshewantedtolet itgoentirely.Theonlyfactshecouldrecall was that the deranged attacker had been

refused bail. When Cordelia logged on to TikTok–tohersurprise–theoutpouringofher followers’ love and support was astounding. Everyvideohadcommentslike,“Weloveyou Cordelia!” and “Let’s get this attacker IMPRISONED FOR GOOD.” She laughed andcriedandforwardedallofthelinkstoloved ones. Imbued with newfound energy, she bouncedaroundherapartmentandupdatedher fans about the situation on Instagram Live. Every night, while listening to Brahms, Cordeliawatchedhersubscribercountclimb steadily.Deepsleepcameeasilynowthatthe terrifyingnighttimevisitorwashistory.

Before long, Cordelia had watched every lastnewsvideo.Feelingasenseofclarity,she decideditwastimetoreturnhome.Noplans or schedules were made, but she figured everything would turn out fine. As Cordelia scannedtheapartmentinsearchofhersuitcase andbags,hereyesdriftedtothepianobench. She was tempted to bring all her books, but imaginedwhatHugomightsay:"Allworkand no play again, Cordelia? You barely ever relax."SherememberedEunice’srecenttext message:"MyPilatesteachersaidyouneedto rejuvenate your mind, body, and soul." Cordeliabitherlipandconfidentlypackeda singlebookofChristmascarolsfortheholiday festivities. Zipping up the last bag, she hurriedlydialedhermother’snumber.Itwas almostsurreal:“Christmas(BabyPleaseCome Home)” was playing in the background and before her mother could say hello, Cordelia burst out, “I’m coming home, Mama. I’ll be thereforChristmas.”

Musical Movement by Morgan Lomax

Spare Keys by

Maara Lovelace

Buyinganelectricpianohasgottobeoneofthebestfinancialdecisions Ihaveevermade.Livingalone,Igetreallyboredsometimes.EversinceI gotthispiano,Ihavesuddenlyhadnofreetime.Ihavebeensittingonthe floorplayingforabouttwohoursnow.Don’tgetittwistedthough:Istillhave noideahowtoplay.OtherthanthosetwoclassesItookwhenIwas7,Ihave noknowledgeoftheinstrument.I’vebeenwatchingYouTubevideosasthe keysofAdele's"Hello"streamthroughthespeakersofmyiPad.Iamgetting throughthelastnotesofthechoruswhenI'mstartledbytheclappingofhands behindme.Iwhipmyheadaroundtofindmymotherstandinginthedoorway.

"Oh,mygoodness,Mom!"Irantoherwithopenarms. "Whatareyou doinghere? Howdidyougetin?"Iquery.

"Icametovisityoufortheweekend!Andyoustillhavesparekeysunder themat!" Ialwaysforgettomovethose.

"Well,I'msoexcitedyou’rehere."

"SoamI.You’vetakenonanewhobby."

"Yes,comesee!" Ipullmymomdowntomeetthekeysofthepiano.

"Isn’tshepretty?"Iaskasmymotherglidesherfingerdowntheplastic keys.

IplaywhatlittleIknowofAdele,andsheisutterlyamazed.NotthatI havedoneanythingimpressive,butsheisamother,andhersmileencourages metocontinueplayingevenwhenImessup.Wesitthereforwhoknows howlong,mymotherkeepinganeyeonmeandmeplaying.Thesoundof thenighthumsaway,andalliswell.Iadoretimeslikethis.

Rolling Hill Drive

Dear54RollingHillDrive,Imissyou. Notadaygoesbywithoutmethinkingofyou, OrallthememoriesImadewithyou, Orallthepeoplethatlivedinsideyou.

by Sophia Vail

Icanstillsoclearlyseeyourexactshadeofdarkbluecarpet. Icanstillsovividlyrememberyourkitchenwallpaperanditsfloraldesign. IcanhearthesoundyoumadewhenIwouldwalkupthegreenstairs. Icanseetheweedsgrowinginbetweenyourpatiobricksintheyard.

IcanstillrecallthesmellofthebathroomsoapsthatGrandmafilledyouwith, Andthefeelingofyourplushsunroomchairs, ButmostimportantlyIrememberallthepeopleIsharethesememorieswith.

IrecalltryingoysterswithGrandpaforthefirsttime. IrememberplayingcardgamesforhourswithGrandmaatthekitchenisland. Irememberplayingpoolwithallthecousinsinthebasement. IrememberlookingthroughDad’soldbedroom.

Ithankyou,54RollingHillDrive,forallthejoyyou’vebroughtme, Andthankyou,God,forblessingmewiththetimeIhadthere. Ihaven’tgonebacktoseeyousincebecauseIknowwhatIwillwitness: Yourgraywallswithblackshuttersknockeddown AndatackymodernMcMansioninyourplace.

Growing Music - Mixed Media by Madelyn Riordan

Oysters - Acrylic by Lucia Ferriso

Summer Sunset by Magnolia Kern

A Pilgrimage to Nantucket

by Abigail Villa

OfftheEastCoast,thereisaplaceupnorth, Whichisanisland,wheremanygoforth. AnamefortheislandisA.C.K, Andinthesummeritisclearasday. TravelingtoNantucket,A.C.K, Doesnotrequireyoutocrossthebluebay. IttakesfivehourstogettoHyannisPort Andthentheonehourferryrideisshort. Nantuckethassomebeautifulbeaches Andacouplefarmsthatdohavepeaches. Thetownhasbeyondamazingshopping Andsomepicturesqueplacesforstopping. WhenonapilgrimagetoNantucket, Youareboundtoneedtobringabucket. Athingnotasingletravelerbrought, Notonecaringtogiveitanythought. Oneparticularpassengerinmind Surprisesmebecauseofhistripgrind. Hetravelsallaroundtheglobe,worldwide, Startinginareacode305,withthetide. Hehasaniconicsignaturelook: Sunglassesandsuit,alldowntothebook. Hehasgonethroughtoughtimes,beentheredonethat, Butabovegroundisgreat,rememberthat. Thenextpassengerisclosertohome. Wehaveallmetherunderthisschooldome. She'snotinourclassbutyoucan'tmissher Sndshehasthesamenameasmysister. Shehasbrowneyesandevenlongbrownhair. She'salsoinAPLang.Wereyouaware? Nowthatwearefinallydonewithher, Weareontoourothertraveler. Heisamaincharacterin Top Gun Themostrecentone,whichwatchingwasfun. HiscallsignisRooster,hisdad'swasGoose, Thefirstmoviehewasinwas Footloose. In Top Gun,hesang"GreatBallsofFire"live, WhichIwouldgiveastarratingoffive. Ilovethepeoplecomingonthistrip, Whichrequiresustotravelonaship. I,myself,lovemanygoodlongcarrides Becauseofwhatisontheothersides. Nantucketis,forsure,myhappyplace, Andislovelyinalmosteverycase. Itisgreattounwindandtorelax, AplacewheretheUVraysaretothemax. Nantucketsuregivesapeacefulescape WheretorejuvenaterightofftheCape.

Pear Still Life - Oil by Devyn DeLaura

The Leaf by Ava Montaruli

Morning Dew by Brugge Erikson

She's Not My Cousin

“She’snotmycousin?”Iaskedmymom withaperplexedlook,asIlearnedthatHeidi, mybestfriend,wasnotrelatedtome.Atthe ageof2,ourparentsintroducedustoeachother as“cousins”andfromthatdayforward,Heidi andIwereabigpartofeachother’slives.From playing with Barbie dolls, to putting on theatrical performances for our parents, to convincingthemtoletushavesleepovers,we were always together. When we were in the car,wewouldblastmusicandsingalongatthe top of our lungs. Heidi is my other half, someonewhounderstandsandacceptsmefor who I am. She always has my back and has been my biggest support. Most importantly, shehasbeentherewhenotherswerenot.

Thisbecamemoreobvioustomeaseighth gradeapproached. InoticedIwasnotbeing invited to get-togethers and other events. It wasasthoughIwasbeingslowlyfrozenout,

by Samantha Lado

marshmallows,andthesaltinessofthenuts. The more I enjoyed this flavor, the more I realizedthatwhatIlikedmostaboutitwas what it represented during this difficult periodofmylife.

Thechocolatechipswerehappinessand positivethings,suchasmyloveofsinging with my youth chorus and dancing. What made the chocolate chips special was the randomwaytheyappearedintheicecream. They were like a little gift, something unexpected.WhenItastedthesesweetbits ofchocolate,Iwasremindedtonoticewhen good things happen and not take them for

savory taste of a nut found in this flavor, I figured out how to balance the bad with the good.

That year, I learned who my real friends were.Iovercamemyfeelingsofsadnessand disappointment brought on by the disintegrationofmyformerfriendships,byfocusing onthepositivepeopleinmylifewhoreassured methattherewasnothingwrongwithwhoI am. Life isn’t always easy. It’s not always a straightpathorasmoothride.Therewillbe bumpsalongtheroad.Iguessthatiswhythey call it a “rocky road.” And the positive experiencesandpeoplearethecherriesontop.

andeventuallythese“friends”stoppedtalking tome.IspentalotoftimewonderingwhatI haddonewrongandhowtheycouldtreatme thisway.

Togetmymindoffit,Heidiinvitedmeto the beach for the summer. I spent the days swimmingandsurfing(orattemptingto)with mybestpal.Whenwegothungryafteraday of paddling out into the ocean and trying to stand up on our boards to catch a wave, we would get some sandwiches and ice cream. Afterafewvisitstothelocalicecreamshop, Idiscoveredrockyroad,anditquicklybecame myfavoriteflavor.

ThefirsttimeItastedrockyroadicecream, I fell in love. At first lick, I could taste the sweetnessofthechocolatechips. Immediately after, I noticed the softness of the

granted.Themarshmallowswere gooeyandwentdowneasily.They represented a sense of comfort providedbythegenuinepeoplein mylife,suchasmyfamily,Heidi, and my fellow Girl Scout troop members.Thenutswerehardand required time to chew and swallow,representinglife'schallenges. Rocky road wouldn’t be thesamewithoutthenuts,justlike lifewouldn’tbethesamewithout its challenges. Like the salty,

Bright Intelligence by Maddie Soliman

In my time of need, when I thought nobody would understand how I was feeling, Heidi did.

Spring Is Here by Ciara Hadley

The Shreds of Melancholy

by Caroline Clarke

Sixtypagesofpain, YetIstillcanwithstandthepapercuts–Thepapercutsofothersandofmyown.

Andmybook

Whichrestslimplyonashelf Ofbrokendreamsandhopelessromance Isborrowedconstantly.

Iwonderwhenthepartsofmypages, Thepiecesofmethatwererippedout Shreddedandthrownonthefloor, Burnedandturnedtoash, Willeverbereturned.

Takensomuchfrommybook Thathadsolittle, Yousaidyouunderstoodmystory ButIknewyouneverreallyreadit.

AndIwatchasyoutakemypain Frommypages Andturnitintoyourown Takingideasfromastory Thatwasneveryourstotell, Transformingme Intothemonsterthatwasonceyou. Switchingthewordsaroundbecause I’mtheevilone I’mtheonethatdidthistoyou.

AndwhileIsuffer, Tornapartby Whatyourippedfromme Isomehowstillwanttogoback Andreaditagain.

More

by Alyssa Rossini

EversinceIwasyoung, Iwantedabigfamily.Iwanted Arguments,slammeddoors,andsiblings Whoarealsomyfriends.Iwantedmore. Iwantedlivelyfamilydinners, AndpeopleIcouldalwayscounton. Iwantedoldersiblingstolookoutforme, Andyoungsiblingstotakecareof. Inreality,Ihadonealoofolderbrother, Whowasembarrassedbyhisyoungersister. Ihadquietfamilydinners,andonlyparentstotalkto. So,Iwouldsitinmyroomanddream,dreamofmore.

Seeping Sun by Carley Dumaresq

Watch Out by Amanda Jimenez

SqueeZ The Day

Partofmeisashamedtoadmitthatevenatthe ripeoldageofeighteen,squeezableapplesauceis one of my favorite foods. But it is not just the irresistibletangoftheunsweetenedapplepuree, nor is it the sensational opening click of the resealableHeliCaplidthatmademefallinlove with this so-called "juvenile" snack. This applesaucefixationofmineisagelessbecauseof a series of lunchroom photos collected my freshmanyear. Iwouldneverhaveimaginedthat packinganapplesaucepouchforhundredsofdays couldinspiresuchanenduringlegacy.

I snatched my phone from under the pile of candy wrappers and mustard-smeared Saran wrap,alongwiththeoneitemleftinsidemylunch box: an apple-cinnamon GoGo SqueeZ applesaucepouch.

“Everyone look up and smile!” My phone camera captured the priceless moment: my tablemates,mostofwhomIhadnevertalkedto before,theirbemusedlooks,allsurroundingthe

by Emma Kelly

singular,half-eatensnackthatlaycrumpledinmy hand. It was at this moment where I not only discovered the impressive lengths to which my armcouldoutstretchforaselfie,butthedifference asingleactioncanmakeinthelivesofsuchan emotionallyvulnerableagegroup.Iwatchedas the girls erupted in laughter over something so mundane. A lunch table originally divided into fourgroupsoffournowbecameonegianttable ofsixteen.

Ineededacaptiontoembellishthesoon-to-be photo series. Analogous to the phrase "carpe diem"--Latinfor"seizetheday,"mypurposewas tohelpmypeers“SqueeZtheDay.”

WhenIcoinedmycatchphrase,Imeantforit to be more than just a play on words. It was a reminder to always extract every last ounce of goodfromtheday,justlikehowIkneadedmy applesauce pouch until every last drop was consumed.

Apples - Pastel by Devyn DeLaura

Farmhouse - Pastel by Devyn DeLaura

The Colony Hotel - Acrylic by Lucia Ferriso

Abreezefromtheshorerefreshesyou,asthetidepullsthewavesandthe sunhitstheocean.There'safeelingintheair,somethingfamiliar,something exciting.Somanytimesbeforeyou’vesaidgoodbyetothisparadise,thishome awayfromhome,alwaystoreturnwantingmore.Youthinkaboutiteveryday; youcan'tshakeitbecauseyouknowitallbeginswhenyougetthere.Everyone intownknowsyournameandyouknowtheirs.Thebelovedsameold,same old:yourjob,yourfriends,yourroutine. Nightsarefilledwithlazybikerides, summermovies,andlate-nighticecreamwithfriends.Itonlytakesamoment torealizeyou'reinthebestplaceonEarth.

Summer Days

by Montserrat Soriano Gutierrez

Theblueskieswereclearandthesunshonebright. Theatmospherewasmorethanjustalright; Youcouldfeelitwasdreamyandunmatched. ThesummerbeganandIamattached. Thebeachistheperfectplacetorelax Withsomefriendswhiletalkingandeatingsnacks. Therefore,Iinvitedsomecompanions Tode-stressandescapefromthecanyons.

Ibroughtamediapersonality OfAmericannationality. Shehasaspecialpersonality, Andmadeupthe"that'shot"mentality. Shehasverybeautiful,longblondhair, Andbrownorblueeyesthatareveryrare.

Oneofouracquaintancescamealong. Heisabitoldandhislegsarelong. Hishairissnowwhiteandhewearsglasses. Hemadeupasoftwareforthemasses. Heistoosmartandanalytical, Hencehisspreadsheetisverycritical. Intoday'sworkandschoolsociety, Hetaughtushowtotreatanxiety.

Thelastfriendwhojoinedisveryhumble. Shehelpspeoplewhoareinatumble, Andthosewhoaremateriallyneedy. Shedespisestheterriblygreedy. Shehasglowing,tanskinandwearsallwhite. Hersmileandherheartshinesoverybright.

Justlikethat,ourpleasanttripisalldone, Aftermanydaysofsand,sun,andfun. Iamverygladwewenttothebeach, Whereeveryonegottosharetheirspeeches. WhenaroundthelightIfeelmuchbetter, SpeciallyifIdon'tneedasweater.

IamhappyIgottomeetthemall, Andwiththefamouscelebstagalong. FromallIlearnedsomethingbigorsmall. Icannotwaitforournextfunrecall.

Colored Pencil: Chris Evans - M. Soriano Gutierrez, Gerard Way - Nina Bohensky

Home by Mia D'Angelo

The Droplets by Ava Montaruli

TROU INE

TheairwascoolasIwalkeduptothedoor ofmyfriend’shouse.Mystripedsweaterhung loosely on my body while I knocked on the door.Shepromisedtodomyhairtodaywhile wechatted.Wecatchuponceamonthonthe same day, at the same time, for the same amountoftime:the21stofeachmonthfrom 4 p.m. to 7 p.m. We would have dinner together,andeverytimeshegavemethesame food.Itwascomforting.ItisaroutineIstill enjoytothisday,soIwaitedexcitedlyfora responseatthedoor.Iwaited.Andwaited.And waitedmore.Thisisn’thowit’ssupposedto go. I knock again, and finally someone answers--butitisn’tmyfriend.

Insteadit'satallwomanwithpinkhairand plenty of gold jewelry. She has a slight tan, andlooksdownatmewithascowl.“Whatdo youwant?”sheasksdryly.I’mshocked.I’m always here on this day at this time every month,andsheisn’t.Yetshe’slookingatme like I’m some unwanted salesperson. “Uh… I’mheretoseemyfriend.IsAmirahere?”I askquietly.WhyamIsoquiet?I’mtheone who is normally here, not this scary-looking woman. “She’s out.” The statement is quick andcurt.Ittakesmeabackforasecondbefore Ibecomeconcernedandsuspicious.“Out?Out where? That makes no sense: she’s always here. She knew I’d be coming. I’m literally herethesamedayeachmonth--it’sourroutine. Sheknowsit.”

“Um,whatdoyouwantmetosaytothat? I can’t give you an answer other than ‘she’s nothere’soyoucantakethatasthetruthand getoutofmyface.”

I stared at her for a second. It wasn’t supposedtohappenthisway.Wemadeaplan, andtheplanmadesense,anditwasconsistent. Whydidshechangeit?Doesshenotwantme around? Did I do something wrong? Is she dead?Withallofthesequestionsspinningin mymind,Ifeltmyselfstarttoshake.“Do… youknowhowmuchlongershe’llbegone?”

AsIutteredthosewords,thewomaningold lookedpastmeandsmiled.

“Hey,Amira,you’vegot…someonehere foryou.Gladyou’rebackbecauseIwaskinda sickoftalkingtowhoeverthisis.”

“Luna.MynameisLuna.Um,”Istumbled onmywordsasIturnedtofaceAmira,“Hey…

my speech. She was my friend. Just because she’slatedoesn’tmeanshehatesme,right? She flashed a sheepish smile, “Yeah,I’mgood. Sorry for being late.Iwasgonna callyoubutIgot distracted. The amountofpeople at the store was kindofinsane… Comeonin!Oh, andthisisFiona. She’s my new roommate.”

I gave a nervous smile to Fionaandwaved slightly.Shestaredblanklyback

becausemyroutinewasaltered. ButIhopeitdoesn’tgetalteredagain.

Concrete Glass by Molly McKegney (top) Solitude - Pastel by Emilia Lucas (bottom)

One Shoe by

Julia Calderaro

Oneshoelayinthemiddleoftheroad. ForGod'ssake,ithadlookedsowornandold. ButImyselfwithonlyoneshoe Knewexactlywhattodo. Igrabbedthatdarnshoeandslippeditrighton.

Itmayhavebeentwosizestoobig, Buttomethatwasn’taworry. Whenflurriesofsnow Camedownfromaabove NowIneedn'tworry.

Theshadowonthewallresembledabird.Orwasita dog? It could have been a toaster. We were in that conferenceroomforhours. Thevoicesintheroomwere muffledasmyeyesbegantoshut.Iwassupposedtobe takingnotes,butthepenslowlystopped.

Withthesunset,theshadowshadchanged.Thebird’s featherswerebeautifullycolored.Itstartedtofly.Then I saw a dog wagging its tail and chasing a ball, while throughthewindowofahousethetoasterpoppedup.As I walked through a neighborhood, airplanes soared throughtheskyanddinosaursroamedthroughthestreets. Out of nowhere, the ground started to shake, airplanes fellfromthesky,anddogsranunderporches.

“Sophie...Sophie...” Mycolleaguewasshakingme. “Themeetingisover,”hesaid. Iquicklygatheredupmy things, said thank you, dashed out of the building, and startedwalkingtofindacab.

NoweverytimeIseeashadow,Ican'thelpbutthink aboutthebird,thedog,andthetoasterthatgotmefired forsleepingonthejob.

Train in Twilight by

Isabella Bergamini

TheregoestheblazingtrainofSanWestigo,flamingdownthetrackswith hell’sfury.Itneverrunstoolatenortooearlyanditnevermakesanyextrastops. Itisdarkmaroonwithgoldaccentsandentirelyfullofforeignpackageswaiting forpick-upsnevermade.Thosethathavetriedtoransackthetrainsufferfrom severeburnsandcrythatnomancouldhavebuiltit.Theysayitispossessedby evilanditshallknownorestuntilthefinaldestinationismade.Whatthatfinal destinationisnooneknows,butrumorsrunthroughtheforlorntownsonits route. The train shall not cease until the final days, when the oceans swell, volcanoesroar,andthefinaldestinationisreached.Theoldlocomotivewillcut throughanyandallinitspathuntilitdivesstraightintotheeternalfierydepths, nevertobeseenagain.

Musee d'Orsay by Morgan Lomax (top)

Colored Gloss - Colored Pencil by Amelia Calveric (center) New York City in January by Grace Potter (bottom)

Shadows by Emma Bradley

placestolive.Themayor,MayorGrenwitch, constantly received complaints about leaky pipes,poorelectricity,crackedpavementand variousotherhealthandsafetyconcerns.One byonetheseproblemswouldbefixedonlyfor them to reappear again in a few months. However, there remained one issue that no fixing nor building could temporarily solve. Neighborsofallagesandpersonalitiesstood insolidarityastheyprayedforasolutiontothe most egregious threat they ever faced: children.Oh,howtheylongedforpolite,little girls, content in playing with their dolls and makeup.Instead,theresidentsofNixemfound themselves stuck in a land of conflict and carnage,stuckinthecenterofawar.

Heneededtosecureapositionandcreatea perimeter only he and his men dared cross. Naturally,hebegantodigouttrenchesinthe snow. Albeit a large task for a pint-sized soldier,hewasnotaloneforlong.TheBulls, asWalthadnamedthem,wereintenselyloyal andneverfailedtoassisttheirfellowmen.Soon cametheErnesttwins,tyingtheirscarvesand running down their crooked, concrete steps. TheirneighborDonniealwaystriedtodistract them. He was bored and the occasional slip madehimlaugh.Theyneverfailedtodeliver. This time it was the older of the two that tumbledhiswayintobattle.Still,notasecond couldbewasted,sotheyoungerdraggedhis wounded brother straight into little Walt’s trench.

Ontheoppositesideofthestreet,RobbyJr. snuckoutofhisdecrepitbackdoortodealout freshly baked rations to his fellowmen, the Hawks.Heslidtheplasticcontaineracrossthe snow before barrel-rolling behind Ms. Duncan’scarforcover.Hewasoneofthemost valuedsoldiersonthefield,secondonlytothe Hawks’ leader, Jack who had yet to appear. Nexttherewasaclatterofhoovesandaclang of drums followed by a ferocious battle cry. YoungHawkFinnygallopedstraightthrough thefrontlinesonhistrustysteed,Caramelthe

asthemostexperiencedforthejobsincehe diligently watched his father apply a band-aid, he was the one soldiers would crawltooncetheywerehit.Sheldoncould do anything, from wipe off the frosted particles on his wounded officers, to prescribehotchocolatewhennecessary. It wasamessyjob,butsomeonehadtodoit and who better than Sheldon? Although the majority had acquired some sort of allianceovertheyears,suchastheHawksor

weaponandsmackingBullDavey,facefirst, withasnowball.Daveyyelledoutinanguish beforehecollapsedtothewinterfloor

Meanwhile,Olliesimplycreepedbackinto theshadowsandwatchedastheopposingsides eruptedintoamadscrambleforammunition. Strategies spread, coat buttons fastened, snowballs stockpiled, and adversaries aimed forobliviousmenasgraycloudsglidedinto thescene.Afterdividingtherationsonhisside andtakingtheleftoversforhimself,RobbyJr. discoveredanewuseforhisplasticcontainer. He lifted the container and shielded himself fromincomingattackswhilstnarrowinginon the twins. The two panicked as they formed pile after pile of ammunition. It wasn’t until RobbyJr.reachedtheirtrenchthattheolderof thetwonoticedhim.Inaheartbreakingsetof events, the older was struck by Robby Jr. in themidstofwarninghisbrother.Theyounger twingavehisopponentonelastglanceofrage before he pummeled him with an array of snowballs.Finnygavehisgeneralafinalsalute beforeRobbyJr.succumbedtotheflurry.They continuedtheirfire,regardlessofwhowaslost. Afterall, they had gone through plenty of training to lead up to their particular battle. Each ofthemhad mastered the art of hiding behind the nearest object whenever their superiorscalledtheminforlunch. Ifonly

Pups in the Snow - Paper Collage by Juliana Looney

these taller generals knew the magnitude of whattheywerefightingfor.Itwasawarfor theirgreatland,theverysymboloffreedom, the big kids’ playground. A ground like no other, it was filled with swirly slides and monkey bars—every soldier’s dream. It had beendecidedthatthewinningsidewouldhave claimontheterritoryforanentireweek.That is unless Ollie won, then he would have the whole playground to himself. The men eventually realized this and came to the conclusion that Ollie had to be eliminated. Finny chucked Sheldon’s hideout, collecting ammoashewentandduckingforcoverwhen necessary. He reached the dingy hideout, snowballpreparedandarmready,onlytofind itdesolate.Sheldon’ssnickeramplifiedbehind him.Waltwincedandinstinctivelyclosedhis eyes,realizinghehadlostthewar.POW!The snowball hit, except he wasn’t the casualty. Sheldon swore under his breath, before he carefullymadeaspotforhimselfinthesnow, hehadbeenhit.Waltopenedhiseyestosee none other than Bull Harry standing before him! Harry was always the latest to arrive becausehewasbornofthestrictestsuperiorof themall.Unliketheothersoldiers,hereceived a very different type of training. Harry was certified in Theo watching. His younger brother,Theo,hadfailedhismilitarytraining andwassincebarredfrombattleaccordingto theirsuperior.ItwasbecauseofthisthatHarry oftendodgedthedraft,despitehisdesperation to join. Still, whenever he was available, he wasinstantlywelcomed.Waltneededallthe help he could get, especially against an opponent like Jack. The two cemented their alliancewithaspitandahandshakeanditwas

done.Asnowballlaunchedjustaninchaway from Harry’s head. The two darted their glanceinthedirectionofthethrow,setting their sights on a frollicking Finny making snow-angels. Evidently, Jack had finished

he trudged on. Jack pelted his adversaries’ weathered tin barriers in hopes they would eventually collapse. His unrelenting persistence angered Harry who now became laser-focusedonhisfoe.Theyneededtowin; heneededtowin. MeanwhileTheomanaged hisownbattleagainsttheforcesofnature.The kickedupsnowandblastingflakesactedasa blizzard blocking his brother from him. Although Theo was not a warrior in the physicalsenselikeHarry,hecarriedthesame determination. Hiseyebrowsfurrowedandhis head pointed forward as he dragged each fragilefootclosertothebattle-field.Hemoved in on the front-lines, albeit unbeknownst to him.Stronggustsofwindhauledsnowflakes across the land, brushing against faces like sandpaper. A cruel chill froze each exposed limbandcarriedontothenext.Theonlysparks of color resided in the flushed faces of the soldiers.WarragedonaslittleTheostoodin themiddleofitwithoutaclue.

Blinded by passion and pride, Harry paid Theo no attention. He gathered a horde of snowballsandwaiteduntilJackunwindedhis arm. Jack’seyeswidenedforthefirsttimein genuinefear--notforhimself,butfortheboy infrontofhim.LittleTheojustaboutmanaged awavetohisbrotherbeforehewasslammed downbyHarry’sfury.

Silence. The wind ceased to whistle, tin cansrefusedtoclatter,andtheboysstaredin shock.Gradually,Theopulledhimselfuptoa sittingpositionandinterruptedthequietwith acrythatrangthroughtheearsofeveryboy.

vehicle and waved it with pride whilst windinguphisfreehand.Walt,beingunable toproperlyexpresshisemotionwithactions, tooktoshoutinghiswarcry.Thisonlyegged Jack on more as he followed Walt’s lead. Soonenough,thebattleexpandedfromjust out-dodgingtheothertoalsoout-screaming. TheybecamesoincrediblyloudthatHarry failed to hear Theo’s delicate voice calling outtohim.Afterbeingignoredseveraltimes, he headed towards his older brother. Normally, he didn’t dare interact with his brotherwhentheotherswereoutandabout. Theyfrightenedhimwithalltheirnoises,but

Without a second thought, the surviving andthedeceasedbecameone,formingacircle around the frightened boy. Snowballs fell, barricades pushed aside, and strategies were thrown out the window. Harry rushed to his brother and cradled him, uttering a string of apologies. The Ernest twins offered their scarves and Robby Jr. managed to salvage a half-bitten cookie from his pocket. Finny crouched down to slip Theo his toy horse Caramel,asSheldonrantogethismother.Jack quickly grabbed his cardboard sleigh. Together, he and Walt maneuvered it under Theotokeephisbottomfromgettingwet.Even Ollie volunteered his assistance. After a momentortwowithhisnewlyacquireditems, Theo’scrysoftenedandhewrappedhisarms aroundhisbrother.Itwastimetoheadhome. Theboyspackeduptheirthings,eachwishing Theo well and waving their goodbyes. They waddledtheirwaythroughthesnowtowards theircozyhomeswithlighthearts,gratefulto knownotthetruehorrorsofwar.

Seats at the Counter

4PMbyChengliPayton

“I’llhavearootbeerfloat,Sam.”AsSamfillsupacup,Ilookoveratthe mostobnoxiousgirlinourhighschool.HernameisMayandshe’sgotherhair incurlsandanewdressontoday.She’ssmilingcoylyatSam,actinglikehe’s Supermanforfillingupalittlerootbeer.It’stheonlythingIcanfocuson,even thoughamillionotherconversationsaregoingon.I’mwaitingformydumb brother,Eric,topickmeup,eventhoughschoolletoutanhourago.Aftermuch disagreementandfighting,MomfinallylethimhaveDad’soldcar,sohe’sriding aroundlikeamanabouttown.Pickingupyoungersisters(evenonlybyafew years) hurts your popularity. Not for me though: my friends all think Eric is supercute.Asif!IhaveafrownonmyfaceasSamslidestherootbeertome.

Here I am, without a license yet, staring into my drink like a forty-two-year-oldalcoholic.That’sprobablythemainreasonSamneverlooks myway.AllofmyfriendssayI’mpretty,butamIasprettyasMay?Momsays it’sallaboutpersonality.Personally,Idon’tseewhatshe’sgotgoingforher.I thinkherteetharealittletoostraightandherhairisalittletooperfect,butthat’s justme.Shelookslikeshewouldblowawayinthewind. WhatSamthinks aboutherisanotherstory,Iguess. Herpersonalityispeachesandcreamand mineisbasicallyhousewife.

IpayhernomindasIlookupatSamandaskhimtorefillmysoda.Mysmile comes out kind of forced, but Sam is too busy to notice. Anyway, I like independence.That’swhyIlikecomingtothisdiner.Itgivesmeaplacetothink andwatchtheworldgoby.Outofthecornerofmyeye,Iseetheowner,Lou. Healwayslookslikehe’sgotthemosthilariousjoketotell,buttriestokeepa sternexpression.Hethinksallteenagersaredumb,exceptweallknowhe’ddo anythingforus,besidessharinghissecretrecipes.Thedoorbelljinglesandthe smellofcoffeeandpiewaftsoutthedoortoallthehungrypassersby.Mybrother's here,inaleatherjacketheprobablynabbedfromsomenerd. He’slookingas much of a jerk as ever. Next thing I know, Sam is standing next to my idiot brother,andthey’rejokingandlaughing.Eww,nevermind.MaycanhaveSam.

7PMbyMaaraLovelace

IdiscoveredSally’sabouttwomonthsagowhenMamaandPapastarted bickeringagain.Idon’tknowwhatdrewmetothediner,butI’mthankfulfor it.Nowthesmallsquarejointisasecondhometome,theplaceIrunawayto evenwhenmyparentsaren’targuing.Insidethere'slaughter,music,thesmell offriedfood,andthesamegroupofgrumpymensittingatthebareverynight. Theyusedtofrightenme,butIhavewarmeduptothem."Heykiddo!"ishow theygreetme.Sally,theowner,hasalsobecomemybestfriend.EverytimeI sitinmydesignatedbooth,Sallyslidesmeatrayoffrieswithoutmyhavingto ask.Ithinkshefeelssorryforme,butIdon’tmindthekindgestures,plusthe friesaredelicious.

There'sthisonekid,PeterIbelieve,whohasbeenstoppingbylately.This townissmall,soeverybodyknowseverybody,butI’dneverseenhimbefore lastFriday.I’vebeenwantingtointroducemyself,butbigkidsintimidateme. So,Iwatchhimfromadistance.Healwayssitsinthesameboothandreceives thesamesideoffriesthatSallygivesme.Ican’thelpbutwonderifweareliving thesamelives.Onedayhecaughtmestaringandwaved.Itwasniceofhim;he musthavefeltmystaresfromamileaway.Wehaveyettosayawordtoeach other, but we’ll get there. We've got stuff in common: each solo, claiming territoryatasmalldiner. We’llbegoodfriendswhenthetimeisright.

Still Life - Pencil by Nina Bohensky

Still Life - Pencil by Courtney McGough

Still Life - Pencil by Montserrat Soriano Gutierrez

In the Garden Bed

by Kayle Brody

She crouched low in the gardenbed,hidingbehindthe brilliant stalks of green, spotted with yellow, orange, and brown sunflowers. The sun hung above her like a spotlightinthesky,marking herlocation.Dartingthrough the garden, it was as if the plants helped her along, bending to her will before snappingbackintoplace.

The girl crouched once more,herlipsspreadingwide asthesunflowersshookatthe reverberations sent forth by heavy footsteps. Poking the soft ground beneath her, the girl spread mud underneath her bright, twinkling eyes. She became one with the green stalks, delving deeper intotheirshadows.

Suddenly,anarmshotout, pullingherbackintothesunshine.Shegiggled, “Mom!Thatwasbetter,wasn’tit?”

Hermotherlaughed,“Untilyouhidinmysunflowers.”

The girl deflated, though she was not being reprimanded. She should have known that her motherwouldspotanydifferenceinherbeloved sunflowers.

“Nexttime!”Hermotherassuredher,grabbing herhandandkissingit.

Theytraipsedthegardenbedthatseemedto be a whole world to the girl, but was merely a backyardtohermother.Thelittlegirllongedfor nothingmorethanwhatwasthere,buthermother yearnedforanabundantyardwithagreenhouse atoneend.

Fornow,though,theywerebothcontentinthe gardenbed.

Tree of Color - Acrylic by Emma Bradley

Camouflage by Casey Cox

Raphy by Julia Calderaro

Healwayshadagazeofdisbeliefmixedwithutterterroron hisface,likeIwasgoingtopokehiseyesout.“Raphy,”Iwould say,“YouknowIamnotmeanlikeJojo.Iwouldneverripyour eyesoutashedidtoBeeshBeesh.”Hewouldalwaysstareback atmeblankly,withthesamedoteyesandthesamemotionless face.“I’msorrywhenIsleepIrolloveronyouordropyouon thefloor.Idon’tmeantodoit.”Iwouldalwaysplaywithhis raggedybody,whichwasjustasheetoffabricwithalittlestuffed headstickingoutofthemiddle.Hewasagiraffe,andwhen I wasyoungIwouldspendhoursstaringathim,studyingtheprint in his fabric, trying to find somesortofpatterntocrack some secret code. “He has been by my side for many years. Hehasalwaysbeen a loyal friend, watching overmeinmytimesofneed, andnowIhopehedoesthe same for you.” I handed Raphytomylittlesisterand watched as she looked at him in shock, then proceeded to nibble on his head.“Ihopeyoulovehim justasmuchasIdid.”

forest

Withrestlesseyes Anddreadfulthoughts, Iheadinthedirection

Istare

Attheironcepretty, Littleheads

AsIweep

Ofthecrueltyofman. Apunishment,itseems Forsimplyinhabitingtheland. Still,itmakesnosense.

by Isabella Bergamini

Theircoldbodieslay Intheirbloody, Mattedhair

Asthewindblowsby Withoutacare.

Allfourlinedup

Inatear-stainedrow, Waitingfortheirmother

Whofailedtoshow. Toolate.

Yet,hereIstand Ensnarledinyour Meaninglesspity.

I’veseen

Whatyoudo

Onyourleftover Segments, Tellingyourselves

Ofalltheways

You’vewrongedme.

Thenyou’llinvestigate, Promisetofind

Mybabies’killer

Untilyournonsense

Overpowers

Yourheartsandminds, Leavingmealone

Withmine. You’llshove Mybabies, Myloves, Mylife, Inadustyfilingcabinet Wherethey’llneverseethelight Ofyourpreciousday.

You’llmoveon WhileI’llcontinue Tositandstare, Remembering Mylosttitle

OfMamaBear.

Lady Bug by Ava Montaruli

Motherhood by Brugge Erikson

something

by Siena Bascom

inbathroommirrorsthereis somethingbehindme, pointingoutmyflaws.

atthekitchentablethereis somethingbehindme, takingmyfood.

intheplayroomthereis somethingbehindme, handingmescissors.

inmybedroomthereis somethingbehindme, pushingmeclosertothewindow.

nomatterwhereigo orwhatido,thereisalways somethingbehindme.

butnowthere’snot.

i’maloneinthebathroom, aloneatdinner, alonewhileplaying, aloneatnight.

thereisnolonger somethingbehindme.

andalthoughshewasmean, ican'thelpbutfeelinglonely; empty.

soistareatthemirror andemptymyplate. isurroundmyselfwith harmfulthings andopenthewindows inordertosee somethingagain.

Monochromatic - Acrylic by Nina Bohensky

Tubby byBridgetLomax

Mayshehoverandguide

Thoughsheissomewhereelse Shewashereoncelongago.

Survivedbythebreathofwind

Inpale,dappledNovember Petrichorandrainycarrides

Theslowdripoftimeelapsing Intoleaden,ceramicbathtubs

Warmingcallusedfeet

Accustomed

by Kathleen Byrne

Accustomedtotheloneliness

Acceptingthere’snofate.

Learnedtoacceptthe“whatifs”

Thatdancedaroundlikeitwasyesterday.

Accustomedtotheemptiness

Thatcutsthroughfrozenmonths. Alovethatstartedinthesummer Witheredinthecoldwinterfront.

Andi’maccustomedtothecomfort, Thesolacenoonecouldreplace. Faintfootprintsofafirstlove Remainthehardesttoretrace.

Andi’maccustomedtothatsummernight, Thesongsthatalwayssoundlikeyou. Yourname,again,ringinginmyears, ButI'maccustomedtothat,too.

by Julia Calderaro

Actually"Didsheactuallyjustsaythat?"

IheardJuliancry.

Didsheactuallytellyouthatshewasleaving?Goodbye?

Didsheripoutyourheartandleaveitonaplate?

Andleaveyourlastsuppernexttothefrontgate?

Didshetellyoushelovesyou,thentakeitallback?

Didshegetanothermanthatyounowwishtosmack?

Didshetrulyneverloveyouorcherishyouatall?

Wasyourwholerelationshipjustlikeagameofball?

Ifthisistrulythecase,pleasetellmethis:

Isitfairifshewatchedyoustealanother'skiss?

Snow Flurry by Morgan Lomax

Versailles by Morgan Lomax

muchandallthatshedoes.Yousee,Amelia islikeacat.Sheisloving, gentle,and soft, but she likes things done her way– and Amelia’swayisacleanapartment.Herpassion foraspotlessabodeisn’twhat'sgotmeriled; it’s the singing and the loud and obnoxious beltsthatcomewithit.NomatterhowoftenI mentionhowIprefernottowakeuptoTaylor Swift blasting through the speakers at 7AM, sheinsistsithelpshercleanfaster.So,Iconcur.

"Goodmorning,"Igruntas Iwalkoutinto ournowcleankitchen. Ameliaisinasilkgown androbe;herhairisinahighbun;herfaceis glowing;and...do Ismellroses?Iswearthis girlisashinyballofperfection.Meanwhile,I amstillinmySpongeBobpajamasandhaven’t showeredinthreedays.Iwouldn’tbesurprised ifIfoundapieceoffoodstucktothesideof myneck.

"Well,goodmorning,Sunshine.Howdid yousleep?"Hercountryaccentisstrongwhen she’shappy.That’showIknowshe’sinagood mood.

"Likeapig.What'sgotyouinsuchachippy mood?"

"Oh,noreason.Wouldyoulikesomebacon withyoureggs?"

ShecancookthemostdeliciousmealsI've evertasted.Shecansomehowmakeaboiled eggtasteexquisite.

"Yes, Ma’am. So, what are your plans today?"

"Well,Ihaveanotherjobinterviewatten andameetingwiththerealestateagentatone." AmeliaandIhavebeenroommatessinceour freshman year of college, paired in a small dormatNewYorkUniversity.Icamefromthe sunnysideofCalifornia,andAmeliawasfrom the southern part of Texas. We instantly got along. I still don’t understand how: we are complete opposites. She likes pop music; I preferrock.Shegoestothegym;Istayonthe couch.Shelikesmovies; Ilikebooks.Despite allourdifferences, hereweare,inoursenior year, living in an apartment off campus, Amelia dropped out of college halfway

out; Iguessshenevergot usedtothehectic streetsofNewYorkCity.Ontheotherhand, I’m still in college, trying to get my poli-sci

degree,andquitefrankly,IloveNewYork. That’swhatIlovemostaboutourfriendship: we like different things, live in different ways,andcomefromdifferentbackgrounds, but we work so well together. She is my

Mysterious Gate by Maria Clara Bragagnolo

closestfriendincollege…probablymyonly friend.

"Nice!Ihavenoplansotherthantostayin bedandstudy."

"Oh,Juliette.Youdothateveryday.Why don’t you change it? Perhaps you should go outside."Igiggleathersuggestions.Bynow sheshouldknowthat Iamverycomfortable in my bedroom, away from all the chaos outside its perimeters. Plus, I always have schoolworktodo.Thereisabsolutelynotime todilly-dally.

"Oh,don’tlookatmelikethat.Whenwas thelasttimeyouwenttoDave’sCaveorthe library? You used to always enjoy those things."

AnotherthingaboutAmeliaisthatsheis always right. It’s true: I used to love those things.Afteralongdayofclass,Iwouldgoto the library, select a book and head over to Dave’sCave.Iwasaregularandtheworkers wouldneverforgetmyorder.Schooljustgot the best of me, and I haven’t had time for myself.Deepdown,IwishIdidandIhatethat Idon’t.

"Idon’tknow. Ihavesomuchworktoget done.Ihaveanexamnextweek…"

"Youcanprepareforitlater.Theweather is absolutely beautiful. Soon, once school is over,you’llofficiallybealawyer,andyou’ll barelyhavetimeforyourself,somakethetime now.Ipromisethatafewhoursawayfromthis apartment will not derail your well-planned strategy for passing that exam. You never know,youmightcomeacrossanopportunity."

IletAmelia’swordssinkinasshewalkedback intoherroom.Ihatewhenshe’sright.Think of all the things I could do instead of being

imprisonedinmyroom...Myphonechimes. It’satextfromGavin,aformerstudentIused

Afterresponding"CU@1,"regretfillsmy gut as I struggle to find something to wear. WhenyoustayinyourroomasmuchasIdo, laundry becomes dreadful. Rummaging throughapileofclothes,Imanagetofindjeans andatanktop.Theoutfitlooksevenplainer than I expected. As I stare in the mirror, I wonderifthiswillbeworthit.IhearAmelia’s voiceinmyear:"Youwon'tbeyoungforever, Getoutthereandseewhat'swaitingforyou." Alreadyregrettingmydecision,Igrunt,gather mythings,andheadforthedoor.

I like it when the city is crowded, but I especially love it when it’s quiet. It’s not something that happens often, but when it does,it’sthemostpeacefulplace.AsIwalk outoftheapartment,Igreettheoldladywho always sits on the stairs with her French poodle.Weexchangegrins,andIheadtomy Uber. The drive shouldn’t be too long according to my maps app. I didn’t get any restlastnight, sogentlyrestingmyheadon thewindow,ItellmyselfI'mnotgoingtofall asleep.I’mjustrestingmyeyes.

I jump to the taxi driver banging on the window. Wow, I've arrived. Dazed and confused,Istepoutofthecar.

"I’msosorry. Iwasupallnightstudying. IguessIammoretiredthanIthought." The taxidrivergruntswhilewavingmeoff.

"IsaidI'msorry!"Iyell,butheisgone.It’s notuntilhiscarisoutofsightthatInoticemy surroundings.Thereisn’tabuildinginsight, onlylargefieldsofgrassandalongdriveway that leads to a large, square building. Where

couldhelpmewiththisprojectforhistory. Collegeiskickingmyderrière,andIthought whynotaskforhelpfromthesmartestperson Iknow?"

I contemplate the request for a few seconds.Thiscouldbeasignfromthegods tellingmetogetoutofthehouse,plusit’dbe nice to help out an old friend. I text back, "Hey! Sure. I didn’t know you were in the city! I’dlovetohelp. AreyouclosetoDave’s Cave?"

"No, how bout Sally’s Avenue? Great coffee.ClosetoNYU.Meetat1?"

I text Gavin asthoughts runthroughmy mind.Wasthisasetup?DidIenterthewrong address? Howfaristhenearestrestroom? I’ve never seen New York so empty. Am I eveninthecityanymore?Thereisstillnotext fromGavin,andIseriouslyneedthebathroom, soIheadtowardthebuildinginthedistance. Afterthelongwalkontheunreasonablylong driveway,Imakeittothefrontdoors.KNOCK KNOCK"Isanybodythere?!"Icall,"Hello! Cananybodyhearme?"Noresponse.Itryto callGavin,butitseemsthereisnocellservice.

(Continued on page 32)

Artistic Hands by Brugge Erikson

Where Camels Roam

by Charlotte Knight

Imaginealand,afarawayplace

Wherecamelsroam,madeofsandtoerase Footstepsthattraveledfromtheeasttowest. Theirpeoplehaveaneagleastheircrest, Iraq,thehomeofamightypalace. IhopetocomeandseeSultan'schalice. Thereisaprincess,dressedinbrightturquoise. Sheresidesinhercastle,sheispoised. Sheisincrediblycompassionate, Youmightknowofher,sheiseminent. Shetreasuresherstripedcompanion,Rajah, Herfamilyandkingdomhavedrama. Amasterthief,whostruggleswithmoney Goesonaquest,andgetsextralucky. Hehasdarkhairandisdescribedasprim, Abu,hisfaithfulsidekicksupportshim. Hewishesforanewerpreferredlife. Hewillbecomeaknownprincewithawife. Therewasalsoamagicalbeing. Helivesinalamp,excelsatdealing. Youcanmakethreewishes,hewillprovide. Canshapeshiftanddisguise,usefultohide. Hiscomplexionisblue,hisgrinisgreat. Heteachesyouwhynottomesswithfate. Theycamewithmealongthegreatjourney. Onthewaytheysharedwithmetheirstory. Althoughdifferenttheyallsharedthesamegoal: Tohelpaforeigneronhisgrandstroll. TheysharedwithmetheirknowledgeofIraq Andintheirkindness,theyhadneverlacked. Whenwehadreachedthelong-awaitedgoal Ilinkedtheeffectithadonthemall.

Nature Confronts Me

by Colleen Dooley

Thetreessingmyname. Theleaveslooktoimpartblame. Natureconfrontsme.

Ourenvironment Criestobesavedfromhumans. Whoshouldanswerit?

Thetreesspeaktome. Ilistenfervently, ButIneverunderstand.

Isitbeneaththeshade, Drowningouttheworldaround. ShouldIanswerthephone?

Eulogia

by Morgan Lomax

Never have I been so thirsty. Although it is not yet evening, when we youngwomentypicallyretrievewater,thesun’sincessantraysareunbearable atthistimeofday;thesandundermyfeetislikefire.TheLordhasnotblessed uswithonedropofrainthismonth,butforwhatreason?Didwenotworship HimdevoutlyintheSamaritantemple?Whytheheatisofsuchasuffocating naturetodayisunknowntome.Andso,propelledbyaneedtoquenchmy thirst,Ibeginthetrekuptothewell.IamEulogia.Iam14yearsold.

Mothersuggestsagainsttravelinguptothewellonmyown.Awayfrom herwatchfuleye,sheworriesthatIwillsocializewithyoungmenfromthe village, but this will never be. I am far too intimidating of a target as the daughter of Mount Gerizim’s High Priest. My ancestors had helped reorganizeourcommunityaftertheattackbyJohnHyrcanusonourtemple andcities.Thedebtofthepeoplehasyettoberepaid,andsowereapthe benefitsofourgrandlegacy.

Waiting in the Waves

A True Story by Julia Calderaro

Isatonthebeach,baskinginthewarmthof the summer sun, listening as the waves pulled backlikeacoweringarmyinbattle,thenroseand grewbeforecrashingtothegroundandrunning awayagain.Thekidswereplayinginthewater, throwing big wet globs of sand at each other. Suddenly,shadowssurroundthegirls.Alarmed, Ijumpedupandsawalargemassofcreatures. Theyweredolphins! Their“eeeee”-ingsounded like giggles as they danced around the children with seemingly big smiles. Playfully, they had encircledthegirlsasifprotectingthem. Isnatched mycameraandtookacoupleofphotos.

Later at home, I printed one of the pictures, planningtohangit. WhenIlookedatitagain,I noticedanothershadowinthewater–withalarge pointedfin. Thedolphinshadbeenprotectingmy girls from a shark! A friend who is a marine biologisttoldmethatitiscommonfordolphins tosavehumanslikethis.ThatnightasItucked the kids under the covers and gave them a goodnight kiss, I thought to myself maybe dolphinsaremore“human”thanwethink.

DustandsandriseabovemyheadasImakemywayupthegentleincline ofthehill.EachstepImakebearsaheavyweightonmybody.Theclaypot onmyshoulderismeantforoneofagreaterstature,yetIinsistedthatIcould beartheload.IfFathercouldcarryit,socouldI.

ItisaboutnoonwhenIarriveatthewell.Luckily,thecanopyaboveshields myfacefromtheblindingsun.Itappearspinkthroughthefabric.Afewsteps beyond,Ihearthesoundofsandalspressingintosandassomeoneentersfrom the opposite direction. My body tenses, weary of strangers. Through the weavingbranchesofatree,Imakeoutanelderlywoman.Sheisclothedin oldrobesandstandsproudly,yetthereisaheavinesstohergate.Photiniis hername.Withonecalculatedmovement,shebringsthejardownfromher shoulderwithweatheredhandsandplacesituponthesandyfloor.

Astrangerappearsfrombehind.Run.Ithinktomyself.Youngmen,such as the one who has approached the well, are forbidden to talk with us Samaritanwomen.Yet,thismandoesnotseemtobeofamaliciousnature. HeslowlyapproachesPhotini.Fromthecoverofatree,Iwatchwhatunfolds.

Hespeaksoflivingwater.Whatisit,Iamnotsure.Perhapswhatwehave beendesirousofallalong?Isitnotthereasonthatweworshipatthetemple, to be quenched of our insatiable thirst for love and peace? The stranger proceedstoidentifyhimselfastheMessiah.Heclaimsthathewillreveal everythingwithhiscoming.Buthowcanthisbetruethataman,astranger, hasbeentaskedwithsavingusall?No.Nomeremortalcouldhandlesucha task;thismanisnoexception.Butthewayhecommunicatesthisisodd.He doesnotsayitwithgrandeurorwithhubris,butwithacertainheaviness.It is the mark of someone who is weighed by duty, weighed down by the hugenessoftheirresponsibility.

CouldthismanbetheMessiah? Inahurry,Photiniabandonsthewelland headstowardsthecitysquare. Intrigued,Ifollow.

by Carley Dumaresq

"AimHigh.""Fly-Fight-Win.""Forgedbythe Sea." "Army Strong." "The Few, The Proud, The Marines." And let us not forget the "Born Ready." These are the altruistic and inspiring battle cries of both yesterday's and today's soldiers.Howpatrioticandnobleitmustseemto beasoldierand,betteryet,aveteran.Awarrior andadefenderoftheseUnitedStates,butwhat doesittrulymeantobeaveteran,andwhyisthis important?

Bydefinition,aveteranisapersonwhohas hadanexperienceinthemilitary.Whatdoesthis experiencelooklike?Ifonelooksatithonestly, beingaveterandoesnotcomewithallthepomp and circumstance that these battle cries may imply.Itistheunderstandingthatthesesoldiers haveshownextraordinarysacrifice,courage,and unselfish service to the people of this great country.Duetotheselflessactionofaveteran, we have been given the freedom of opinion, thought, expression, information, and publication.

In the world today, many people have their heroes. Most likely, they come in the form of sportsidols,suchasAaronJudgeorTomBrady. Fans idolize and memorize their stats, their victories, and even follow their personal lives. Theygetsocaughtupinallthehype,theyforget that sometimes, it is the average person on the streetthatdeservessuchaccolades.Foritisthe veteranswhohavelefttheirhomes,theirfamilies, and the safe haven of this country to defend somethinggreater.Putintoperspective,itwould be safe to say that an 18-year-old who has left their family to be dropped into foreign deserts, jungles,mountains,orshores,notknowingwhat

fateawaitsthem,topsanysportsfigureoutthere. Theseveteranshavedoneitwithnoglory,very littlemoney,andnoentourageoffanswaitingto applaudthem.

Veterans come home, sometimes with both emotional and physical scars, forever changed. Andyet,theyareaproudbunch.Theyareproud oftheirservice,theircountry,andtheirflag.They forge on. They are our grandparents, spouses, parents,siblings,andfriends,andtheyliveand work among us every day-- most of the time withoutusevenknowing.

So when asked, "Why is the veteran important?"oneshouldboldlyanswerasfollows: Ourveteransareapartoftheveryfabricofthis country. Theyarethepast,present,andfutureof what has shaped and what is to come of these UnitedStates.Theyaretrulythefew,theproud, thestrong,theselfless,andthebravestwewill everknow.

Elated - Acrylic by Emma Kelly

Dove on Fire - Pastel by Lily Moran

(Continued from Page 27)

Ipacebackandforth,tryingtorememberthe stepstoawildernesssurvivalvideoIsawon YouTube. ThenIhearaclickcomefromthe metal doors. I slowly push on them and discovertheyhavebeenunlocked.

I walk into an empty corridor with a stairwell that leads to who knows where. It mustbetheadrenalineortheurgentneedto pee,butIbegintoclimbthestairs.Thereare sevenflights,andbythetimeImakeittothe top,Iamreadyforanothernap.Icomeacross anotherdoor,andhearingacommotionbehind it, Iwhipitopenandsee…dozensofdesks, maybehundreds.Behindeachdeskis aperson in a suit, intensely working on a computer. Everyone is so busy, they barely notice me, exceptforthisonetallguyinamanbun.

nothesitanttoopenit;Ineedsomeonetogive me answers. Inside the dimly lit room, a woman sits at a table in the center, looking straightaheadasifsheknewIwascoming.A sign above her says, "Top Secret Detectives—TSD."

"Whyhello?Whydon’tyoutakeaseat?" shesayscalmly.

Thisladyscaresme,soIsitdowninthe chairacrossfromher.Thewayshefoldsher arms on the table somehow makes her even scarier.

"Please state your name, age, and ID number."

"MynameisJuliette Jones, Iam21years old,andIdon’thaveone."

Theladyraiseshereyebrowsassheputson herglassesandreadsthesheetinfrontofher. "It says here that your name is Amelia

onlycameupherebecauseIwantedtouse therestroom.Ididn’tmeantointrude."

"Why didn’t you just say that from the beginning?"sheasks,butitwasn'taquestion, andI’mtooexhaustedtoargue.

"Amelia,we'llreevaluateyourstartdate. Itseemsasiftodayisn’ttherighttime."

"Thankyou,andpleaseacceptmysincere apologies."

Amelia and I are escorted out of the building,thistimebyourownwill.Bothof us walk in silence. Once we’ve made it outsideandoutofearshot,wordsspilloutof mymouth.

"Amelia,you'reaspy? Whydidn’tyou tellme?Wait,don’ttellmeyou’llhavetokill me."

"Juliette,relax.I’mnotaspy."

"ButIreadthesignthatsaidTopSecret Detectives--"

"Exactly,I'mnotaspy. I’madetective." "What? Are you joining the FBI or something?Howisthispossible?Isthiswhy youdroppedoutofcollege?"

"No, let’sjustsaydon’tstayoutlateina run-downNewYorklibrary.ATSDrecruiter mighttapyourshoulder."

"This is crazy, Amelia. Who are these people?"

"It’sacompanythatsolvescrimesinthe city,likerobberies,missingpersons,thatsort ofthing. TherecruitersaidIhadakeensense of detail when I was reorganizing the bookshelves and said that my skills would come in handy when looking through securityfootage."

"Hello,youmustbeAmelia.Welcometo your first day at TSD Headquarters!” He reaches out his hand toward me, and I instinctivelyshakeit.

"Sir,theremustbeabigmistake.I’mnot--"

"Don’t worry. There’s no need to be nervous. Before you begin, you’ll need to answerafewquestions.Makeyourwaytothe roomdownthehall."

"But,Sir,youdon'tunderstand--"

"Hurry.Youhaveanassignment."

Assignment?Whatassignment?Andwhy did he call me Amelia? There are so many questionsandnoonetoanswerthem.Iaccept my defeat and scurry to the room he mentioned. Isneakaglimpseat thepeoplein suitsworkingvigorously.Thisplaceisn’tlike aregularoffice:it’seerieandquiet. Sticking outlikeasorethumbinmytanktopsandjeans, workersglareatmeasIpassby.Iquickenmy paceandmakeittothedoor.ThistimeIam

emerge from behind the door and rush over, liftingmebymyscrawnyarms.

"Wait, no, you don’t understand. There’s justbeenamistake."Ikickandsquirm,trying to free myself from their grip. I’ve almost given up when I hear a familiar belt from outside the door: "Wait!" Amelia bursts in, pleading,"Wait!Therehasbeenamisunderstanding." Theladyrisesfromherseat,ready tohaveAmeliaescortedaswell.

"I’m Amelia Fermont. This is my friend Juliette.SheaccidentallytookmyUberhere and--I’msorryI'mlateformyfirstday." The ladyshootstheguardsalook,andtheygently releaseme.

"Bothofyoutakeaseat."Totheguardsshe adds,"Youmaygo." Wealldoaswe’retold. IgiveAmeliaadesperatelookofconfusion, andsherespondswithsilence.

"Areherwordstrue,Juliette?"

"Completely. Amelia is my roommate. I must have taken her Uber instead of mine. I

"Who knew your obsessive cleaning habitswouldlandyouajob!" Abigblack carpullsupinfrontofus,andthedriverrolls downhiswindow."Hello,IwastoldIneed togetyouhomesafeandsound,pertheboss's orders."AmeliaandIjumpintothecar, eager togetoutofhere.

"Wait, who did they say this Uber was for?"Iaskthechauffeurhesitantly.

"Um,JulietteandAmelia,right?"

"Okay,good."

Amelialooksatmewithsincereeyesand says,"Hey,ifIgettokeepthejob,youcan’t tellanyone."

"Amelia,whowouldItell?...Gavin!"

"No,youcan’ttellGavin."

“No, I mean, I forgot about Gavin. We weresupposedtomeetuptoday."Iwhipped outmyphoneandseeanewmessagefrom him: "Hey, have to reschedule. Something cameup.Whatdaysworkbestforyou?"A weightliftsoffmyshoulders,knowingthatI gettogohome.

“Are you alright? You look weary." Perfect Amelia was concerned about me, insteadofworryingaboutlosinghernewjob.

"Allgood." Iamneverleavingmyroom again.

Halloween by Bianca Rodin

Index

SienaBascom24

IsabellaBergamini17,18,23

NinaBohensky15,20,24

EmmaBradley17,22

MariaClaraBragagnoloRose26

JennaBrenner-InsideFrontCover

KayleBrody22

KathleenByrne25

JuliaCalderaro17,23,25,29

AmeliaCalveric17,InsideBackCover

CarolineClarke11

CaseyCox22

MiaD'Angelo15

DevynDeLaura3,9,12,13,18

ColleenDooley29

CarleyDumaresq11,31

BruggeErikson9,23,27

LuciaFerriso7,14

ReaganGavrilovic5

CiaraHadley10

AmandaJimenez4,11

EmmaKelly12,30

MagnoliaKern8

CharlotteKnight28

SamanthaLado10

UlianaLeshchuk2

BridgetLomax25

MorganLomax6,17,25(2),29

MaaraLovelace7,20,26

EmiliaLucas16

EmmaMarsh16

CourtneyMcGough20

MollyMcKegney16

CatherineMendrzycki-InsideFrontCover

IsabellaMisrahi28

AvaMontaruli9,15,23

LilyMoran31

ChengliPayton4,20

GracePotter17

MadelynRicordan7

StevieRobinson-Cover

BiancaRodin32

AlyssaRossini11

AngelinaSalese-BackCover

SamanthaSloan-InsideBackCover

MadeleineSoliman10

MontserratSorianoGutierrez15(2),20,21

UmaSofiaSrivastava1

SophiaVail7

AbigailVilla9

Fish Eye - Pencil by Amelia Calveric

Reflection - Colored Pencil by Samantha Sloan