The Apricot Journal
Raindrop Revival
An intro to the pieces in this issue
Editors’ Note
Hello South High Community!
April break is almost here, which means we are fast approaching the end of the school year. As spring rolls around (hopefully with more spring-like weather), we invite you to enjoy Volume 4, Issue 4 of The Apricot Journal.
In this issue, we have a wide range of pieces. We have our annual staff portfolio, featuring amazing writing from our hardworking and dedicated staff, on topics ranging from Applebees, to fighter pilots, to the cycle of life. Additionally, we have profound pieces from our contributors that reflect our societal expectations about emotions, discussing different versions of happiness.
And finally, as seniors count down their final weeks, we have several pieces centered around graduation and growing up. For the first time ever, we are also including a staff senior section, where we asked the seniors on our staff to reflect on their favorite pieces from the Journal both those that they’ve written and those that they’ve read.
So, this issue is an amalgamation of different ideas and themes which is fitting for the end of the year. During the spring, loose ends start wrapping up. We look back at the school year, all that we accomplished, all that we attempted to do. The distinct yet significant parts of our life tie together to create a final impression of the year.
This issue is our impression of the year, in all its creative and diverse glory. We hope you enjoy what each of our writers has to offer and that the pieces here will challenge you to think about your own school year, too.
Enjoy the latest issue of The Apricot Journal!
All the best,
The Editors-in-Chief
Full Bloom
9
A special thank you to everyone who submitted their art! Thank you especially to Hero Micher for designing this issue’s cover! We love including art in the Journal, so if you are an artist or have friends who are, we would love to get more art submitted for our upcoming issues! On the last page of this issue, (Page 58) scan or click on the QR code to submit your art!
Spring’s Sprouts
Submissions from South High students
Countdown
Denisa Iljas, Grade 12
2024, the year to be
The one that triumphs all. With hours left It is almost here.
2024, the year to be
The one with that sticks in your memories. Even 24 years later, but with minutes left, It is almost here
2024, the year to be
The one that you don’t want gone. With seconds left. It is finally here
But hopefully, like 2023 ended, 2024 doesn’t last only seconds
Christmas Flowers
Isabella Tassone, Grade 9
Paper Coins
Amita Klevanski, Grade 9
Every day, in my desert sun
I must climb my highest hill
Plant a bucket
Catch some rain from the heavens
In exchange for some coins from my trader
Every day, I return to my shack
My hands keep getting lighter
The coins all go
To all them, from those jungles
Because they collect more water than me
Every day, my bucket is empty now
I pass by piles of bones
I would have moved
Far away, start a new life
If only the price was affordable
Sasuke and Itachi
Marion Zziwa, Grade 9
Home Is Where the Heart Is
Jason Murillo, Grade 12
Worcester was my home
The Heart of the Commonwealth
Was the heart of all these memories
I’ve gained growing up
Will any other place
Compare to the riches
Found in this hilly city?
I’m unsure if there’s any other city
Where you can pass by two Dunkin’s
Maybe even three
On your way to school
I’m unsure if you can find streets that have Chinese, Italian, Latino, African, and Vietnamese
Restaurants all in one place
Is there a city where I’ll be awoken
By my Puerto Rican neighbor blasting reggaeton?
Or by my Vietnamese neighbors singing karaoke?
Or by the partying college students
With police knocking on their door
Because they couldn’t have waited
Just a few more years?
No.
Worcester is my home
The Home of the Smiley Face
The Home of the Valentine’s Card
The Home of the Liquid Propelled Rocket
The Home of the Monkey Wrench
And it will always be my home.
dog in the night
Jasper Fritz, Grade 12
Blissful Day
Amita Klevanski, Grade 9
Lily threw her purse onto the ground and slumped down on her bed. An entire day had gone by; not even one person had remembered, not even her boyfriend, who hadn’t returned from work yet. She turned her head and stared at the calendar on the wall. The top half of the calendar was adorned with bright red and pink hearts, with the word “FEBRUARY” written just below the colorful artwork. Below the word “FEBRUARY,” the fourteenth date was circled. Lily sighed out of exasperation before bitterly throwing a pillow at the calendar.
"No one ever remembers! Why, out of all the dates, does it have to be the fourteenth of February?!” Lily fumed irritably. She watched the pillow fly across the room and collide with the colorful paper lists. Her anger faded slowly, and she sank to the floor in melancholy. Keys jingled at the door; her boyfriend Alex had returned from work.
“Are you okay?” Alex rushed over to her. Lily sadly looked up at him.
"No one remembered; not even my coworkers did, not even you”
She was taken aback by the colossal bouquet of pale pink tulips, practically tumbling out of Alex’s hand.
"You…you actually,” Lily started.
"Honey, of course, I did! It's the most special day of the year! How could I possibly forget such a day like this?” Alex handed the bouquet to her.
“I thought roses were a bit too, standard. Especially for today. But I know how much you love tulips.”
The flowers kissed Lily’s face as she smelled them.
"You didn’t have to do this; I just wanted someone to remember my day."
Lily pressed the flowers to her heart, as she walked to the kitchen, placing the flowers in an empty glass vase.
"No, no, dear heart, it is just the beginning! Here, tell me, what is the favorite dress that you own?” Alex asked. "The black one I always wear when we go out, what do you mean?” Lily was staring at him suspiciously from across the room.
"Well, put it on, quick! I have something to show you. ” Lily dressed, threw on a wool coat, and followed Alex outside. They walked side by side through the street.
"Come on, tell me! Where are we going?” Lily laughed, and Alex simply gestured forward.
"Just wait!”
The streetlights were lined with blood-red tapestries, the sidewalk littered with pink glitter, and plastic confetti, and couples holding hands with each other.
Despite all this, Lily stared only at Alex. They arrived at the local park. Unsurprisingly, it was devoid of people, since they had all gone to party earlier on that day. Alex took off, running through the icy grass and the festively light-adorned trees.
"Wait, where are you going? Come back!” Lily took off after him.
Small, illuminated heart ornaments hung from the trees; the lights blurred, blinded, and shook in Lily’s vision as she chased after her love. The trees got less and less decorated the further she ran into the park. At last, Lily stopped running, and was greeted with a beautiful sight. There, arranged in a cozy wooded clearing of the park, stood four violinists, under grand tapestries that were attached to some trees above them. Two chairs were placed in front of the violinists, with Alex proudly smiling at Lily.
"Oh my God! I always wanted a private performance! I can’t believe you made my wish come true!” Lily gasped, and hugged him tight; with all her strength.
"I told you I remembered! How could I forget such a special day today? Come on, let's sit down and enjoy the music.”
Every note produced from the strings of the violins soothed every one of Lily’s stresses for the day. She thought she would never be able to enjoy a regular classical concert with some annoying noise coming from the people behind her. The performance continued for about an hour before the violinists bowed politely and left Lily to be alone with Alex. "Did you enjoy the private concert?” Alex asked her.
"I can’t put it into words; this is the best day of my life!”
"Well, it's about to get even better." Alex reached under his chair and handed Lily a wrapped gift.
"Another gift?! You are going all out today! I just wanted someone to remember this day; I don’t know how to pay you back,” Lily breathed excitedly.
"You don’t need to pay anything; just open the gift.”
Lily undid the blue bow and opened the box. Inside were a pair of dazzling gold earrings, a matching necklace, and a matching bracelet, all laced with the shiniest black stones Lily had ever seen.
"Oh Alex, I think I’m gonna faint. I had never gotten gold jewelry as a gift before, only cheap nail polish and plastic nails. I could only dream of such a day as this. Thank you. " Lily hugged him again.
"You're always welcome, love. Nothing brings me more joy than seeing you happy. Now, I have one more thing planned, just right up that street.”
Lily couldn’t fathom how to express her appreciation to her boyfriend and ended up kissing him on the cheek. He laughed and kissed her back.
“I still can’t believe you would do all this for me! We have been together for only a year. ”
“It doesn’t matter how long I’ve known you; I just want this day to be the most special for you. ”
They left the park and headed down the street.
“Lily, look how big the moon is tonight. Right up there,” he pointed, “Isn’t it beautiful?”
Lily looked up at the dusky, indigo sky. Although it wasn’t nighttime quite yet, the pale moon lit up Lily’s dark eyes with its light.
“Just keep looking there, until we reach our next place.”
Alex lovingly stared at Lily’s tilted back head, happy to get her attention off the endless red and pink of the street.
The two arrived at a rustic restaurant.
“Now, close your eyes, and I’ll lead you to where we need to go. ” Lily closed her eyes, and she took Alex’s hand. He opened the door and approached the waiter.
“I am here for my 7 p.m. reservation,” Alex told the waiter. “Right this way, ” he told him.
Alex started making an array of sharp twists and turns; the sounds of laughing couples had whizzed by Lily's ears.
They stopped, as the sounds were barely audible anymore.
"Open your eyes now. ”
Lily blinks a few times to get her focus and sees a small table at the very end of the restaurant. The bustling of the couples at the front was reduced to only some light ambiance noise.
“Alex, you got a table the furthest away from the noise? How did you do this?”
"I simply made a reservation in advance."
They sat down and took their menus.
“I know I said this about a million times, but I’m so thankful for everything you ’ ve done for me. I didn’t think anyone would have recalled this day until I saw those tulips you gave me. It is a miracle to be with you. Thank you for everything you have done.” Lily finished her sentence as she placed the menu down. Alex smiled and reached across the table to hold Lily's hand.
"You deserve all of this and more, " he said softly. "I wanted tonight to be perfect for you because you mean the world to me. "
The waiter returned to their tables, took their orders swiftly, and got them their food in less than fifteen minutes. As they enjoyed their meal, Lily couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by Alex's thoughtfulness. She knew she had found someone truly special and cherished every moment they spent together.
The dinner was filled with laughter, deep conversations, and a connection that seemed to grow stronger with each passing minute. Suddenly, the waiter returned with several other employees who worked there.
“I promise, I have one final thing planned for you, I hope this will be better than those coworkers at your job,” Alex told Lily as he nodded to the waiters. They gathered around her, and, with one tender holding a rich slice of chocolate cake, they serenaded:
“Happy birthday to you!
Happy birthday to you!
Happy birthday dear Lily!
Happy birthday to you!”
Overhead
Vasiana Mancolli, Grade 9
Reasons Behind the Masks
Joniel Bonefont, Grade
10
What is a smile? A smile could be that you are truly content or it could mean you have a mask. You keep the mask to keep doing your task during the day. But you start to know you are wearing the mask so you start to feel like a stray and as stiff as clay. You think your mask saves you from people you love but reality they are always worried about you they might not show it or they are also wearing a mask but for a different reason. When you take off their mask you feel as cold as the winter season. Sometimes people could have different masks but it is a matter of time that mask gets fragmented. My smile was true before but now I have to keep on a mask but my mask is almost shattered into bits and pieces. Masks are things to keep you away from expressing oneself and getting rid of people you secretly admire. Just know your mask will expire.
“So it’s a deal then?”
Nalani Cardenas, Grade 11
Graduation
Melissa Truong, Grade 12
In the dance of resolutions, we take a chance. My classmates paint dreams, others plan in advance. Counting days or in deep reflection, Each path chosen, a personal direction. Simple or grand, each pledge is unique, In this new chapter, we all seek. So here's to the promises, both big and small, In the melody of resolutions, we stand tall.
Petals In Progress
Submissions from The Apricot Journal Editors
State Route 107
Anya Geist, Grade 12
Driving through rambling New Hampshire roads
In the chilly autumn night:
Moon overhead, ghostly face in the sky
Obscured by wisps of smoky cloud
Fog rises from the road
Dancing in the headlights
And cars in the distance move like spectors
Red and white haze from another world
The yellow center line shimmers:
Racing away down black pavement
It escorts us, alive and moving
As we barrel into the oncoming dark
What will come, who can say:
Wind whistles outside
With every breeze it peels back
The boundary between this world and the next
Cocoa
Kaleth Morales Boria, Grade 11
Timeless Wishes
Denisa Iljas, Grade 12
Sometimes they are there when don't expect it
They come like specs of glitter,
Hiding under a carpet
Wishes are what we have,
Whether it is when we are 5 years old
Or fifty
They are always there
So I wish to wish on . . .
Cake
Vy Duong, Grade 9
A Lamb Is Born
Madeline Trombly, Grade 9
A lamb is born
Listen as it sings with youth
Approach the dew-coated field
Mundane sunsets speak the truth
Bathing in the shallow pond
Irradiated by the sun she sleeps
Slowly awaiting the death that creeps
Bleating desperately her body now torn
Orange purple skies await
Recalling the warm spring days
Nonetheless a lamb is born
Exile
Madeline Trombly, Grade 9
destined to die
Shannon Dennehy, Grade 11
we ’ re stuck in the future and living a lie look up, the truth is written in the sky we both know we live but we ’ re destined to die if i jump off the cliff, who knows? maybe i’ll fly the sun falls, the moon rises, and you question why we love and we learn and its something we try we love and we learn then it's our time to die
Tessellations
Fresca Danquah, Grade 9
Walking Benedict Morrow, Grade 12
Alice woke up suddenly, as a powerful gust of wind shook her small tent. Through the semitranslucent plastic she could tell that the Sun had just risen. Maybe 5:30 or 6, she thought. Her watch had broken a few days earlier, and without it she never knew exactly what time it was. Not that it mattered much anyways.
Packing up her tent and supplies into her backpack, Alice trekked the few hundred feet between her campsite and the rest stop. She could tell that once this whole area astride the road had been mowed, maintained; but now the forest was beginning to creep back. It was now a meadow, with long, yellow grass; and Alice began to worry about ticks. The rest stop was an old brick building, one wall fallen in where it faced the cracked expanse of asphalt leading to the road. Inside, an old couple held court over a collection of hot plates with pancakes cooking atop.
The ingredients were laid out in large piles behind their worn wooden counter. Alice decided not to ask if they had a refrigerator for those eggs.
“Hello!” the soft-spoken old man said as he put two pancakes on her small plastic plate. “Do all right out there in the woods?”
Alice decided he wasn’t trying to condescend. “Yes, I prefer to camp. ”
“That’s fair. Not like this place is particularly guarded from the elements.”
Alice sat down at the one table in the small room. Already sitting at it were two people she vaguely remembered from the night before.
“Alice, right?” one of them said. “Hi, I’m Vance. I didn’t get a chance to ask yesterday: are you walking?”
“I wasn’t when I started, but I suppose I am now, ” Alice said. “Not that I think there’s much of anything at the end.”
“Ah, have faith!” Vance said.
“Many have walked this road before us, and I haven’t met a single person coming back. There must be something good at the end, or someone would have come back.”
“I suppose, ” Alice said; unconvinced.
The third person at the table remained silent. They hadn’t said anything the night before either, but Alice was used to this type. Many people didn’t like explaining why they walked. She suspected many people didn’t know themselves.
/////////
Over the following weeks, Alice had a lot of time to think about why she herself walked. It was, she decided; not for religion or anything. When people talked about back home, that was what they said it was; and that seemed to be why Vance was in it. But Alice decided she was in it for a simpler reason: every day was different. New rest stops; new views (even if it was often just trees; cracked road; and the occasional stretch of exposed, dynamitescarred rock); and occasionally, new people.
But really, it wasn’t about any of that. Alice was walking because walking wasn’t rotting. Back home, there was nothing but decay and rust and silent family dinners in the bombed-out ruin they made halfhearted attempts to maintain. On the walk, things rotted; sure, but at least you could pretend that all the rest stops were like that because vines had pulled them down, at least you could pretend no one had once died where you slept.
Alice didn’t much like thinking about why she was walking.
/////////
She and Vance traveled for a few weeks together, every rest stop less likely to have good food or new people than the last. Vance was always talkative, and Alice was beginning to think that she might spend an extra day at the next stop to let him get a bit ahead of her when they met the twins. The twins were around the same age as Alice and Vance, maybe slightly younger. The brother was quiet, but the sister was a yapper to rival Vance.
“Apparently, the twins were not walkers themselves, but “anthropologists studying the phenomenon” according to the sister. And how the hell would one get certified as an anthropologist in this day and age, Alice thought. She would have found them insufferably annoying if not for the food supplies they had. The bread at the most recent rest stop had been almost inedible.
One night, the sister convinced her twin to tell a story. The four of them were sitting around a campfire, having been unable to reach the next rest stop that day. The brother coughed a few times, but then began. Alice realized it was only the second or third time she had heard him speak.
“Once, long ago, a man climbed a mountain. Do not ask why, I do not know. At the base, the incline was barely noticeable; the paths wellmarked. As he climbed upwards, the going became steeper and the trail less easily discernible. The air thinned, the man had to scramble up rocks; then ice; then sheer frozen walls of slate.
He had left trees far behind, he could not even remember the last time he saw a bush or blade of grass. He passed the skeletons of climbers who had gone before, but he was not worried. He took it as evidence that he was on the right track.
“When he reached the peak, there was no view; for he was well above the clouds. The man was having trouble breathing. There was something up there, though: a small shack, and in the small shack a small bed, and in the bed, a child. The man asked the child, ‘Why are you up here all alone?’ The child responded, ‘I could ask the same of you. ’ ‘Fair enough,’ the man said, and then he went back down.”
“So what you ' re telling me is that you ’ re tired of people asking your anthropological opinion,” joked Vance. The brother gave him a dirty look.
The next day, he and his sister were nowhere to be found. Alice did not find this weird, people stopped walking all the time.
/////////
Eventually, Vance too fell behind. At a particularly nice rest stop, he told Alice that he was going to spend a few more days there. His feet had been bothering him. Alice was only a little disappointed. The road had left the forest, stretching out over gently rolling plains that stretched up towards a line of hills in the distance. Sometimes, Alice saw seagulls. She hoped there were no cities nearby. The rest stops were fewer and farther between now. Even the faithful road began to give out as the hills grew in Alice’s vision, less asphalt and more dirt. One night, while camping by a particularly worn out stretch of road; Alice got a fright: while she was cooking her dinner over the fire, the silent figure from the rest stop where she met Vance simply walked out of the shadows and sat down across from her.
“Wh- don’t scare me like that!” Alice said. “You made me spill the water!”
“I apologize,” said the figure. They had a deep voice that somehow sounded like it could be deeper if only its owner could get enough air.
“I come bringing bread by way of apology.”
“Seems fair to me. ” After sitting in silence for a few minutes eating their meager meal, the figure leaned forward.
“My name is Luc. I am here to warn you. ”
“If you ’ re here to warn me against continuing, I’ve decided I don’t much care where this road goes; as long as it never goes anywhere larger than thirty people.”
“Continue if you must. But know that the road tunnels through the hills ahead: you will need extra supplies to get through it.” Luc tossed her a bag across the dying fire. Inside, rations of bread and tofu.
“Why, thank you!” Alice was seized by a sudden curiosity. It was an odd feeling. “Have you met others further along?”
“That I cannot say, Alice James. But the end is near. ”
“How do you know my name?” But Luc had already sunk back into the shadow, like a cloud on a moonless night. /////////
Luc was right about the tunnel. At first, it was wide, and the road was more paved than it had been in a while. But soon, the walls pressed in and the floor went from asphalt to dirt to rock. Alice began rationing her food, which was good; because the tunnel was much longer than she had expected. She lost count of how long she had been there, how long it had been since she had seen the Sun. /////////
Eventually, when the tunnel had become so narrow Alice had not even enough room to set up her tent; she saw a tiny light ahead of her. She was overjoyed, but as she walked more, the rate of the light’s expansion told her she was still far away from the end. The light blinked on and off three times before Alice eventually reached it, she was kept in good spirits during this excruciating final stretch by the fact that soon she would see the sky again, and by the fact that she finally knew when it was day and when it was night again. The tunnel emptied out suddenly, without widening or fanfare.
“For a long moment, Alice was blinded by the light; but when her eyes adjusted she gasped: Laid out before her was a beautiful beach. Black sand led down to an azure sea, waves slowly lapping against the shore. In places, the sand had been dug out by crabs or birds, revealing a surprisingly orange layer of sediment below the surface. The beach was surrounded on all sides by beautiful white chalk cliffs, almost blinding in the midday sun. Alice could not see anything atop them besides the tufted suggestion of grass. In the far distance, a single rocky isle held court. Alice walked forward a few steps, then all of a sudden decided to stop. She laid down on the warm, smooth sand, and decided that this was where her journey ended. She looked again at the beautiful blue vault of heaven above her, and closed her eyes.
Stanley Nalani Cardenas, Grade 11
Applebee’s
Natalie Boucher, Grade 12
Reminiscent of the past
And a tribute to what was
And what never was
And also, just maybe, what could be
It is an American dream
Empty
Dated
Sparse
But now and again
Warmth
And a special ingredientLOVE
Radiates from the Wonton Tacos
Wonton Tacos
What else could be so unique to this country?
Honeycomb
Julia Cahill, Grade 9
Biography...
Iyad
Rhaouat,
Grade 9
He was a good pilot. He served in the military as an F-15 fighter jet pilot, then became a commercial pilot for a short time until his death. He was a hero, he was a savior, and he saved hundreds of lives. Sacrificed his life. Performed a miracle. He was, in fact, the father, the son, and the holy spirit. Out of the 500 people on board, 499 survived; 1 died. His last words were, “Nah, I’d win.”
As a child, he had a dream nobody believed in. To be a commercial pilot and fly a plane through the endless abyss of the skies. His mother didn’t want him to become a pilot, for fear he would die. His father was the only one who believed in him. He helped pay for flight school, even though he was living on the minimum wage ��. He believed in him, and that was all it took.
In the near future, Iyad joined the air force and served as a fighter jet pilot for 10 years, when he racked up enough flight hours to become a commercial pilot. His first flight was on a silly Boeing 737 Max. “KLM-3078, you are cleared for takeoff; wind speeds are 1 kts with 128 degrees.”
That was the beginning of a journey an incredible adventure. He took off with no tail strike and climbed to 13,000 feet when the right engine exploded. “CRASH.” All the internal parts of the engines spewed out directly into what seemed like the Hudson River. He was banking left around 70 degrees. The pressure was dramatically decreasing; the closest airport was Newark International Airport, but he didn’t think he could make it. There it was, standing right below him, the Hudson River. He was going to make a water landing. Iyad pulled the yoke as far right as he could, stabilized the aircraft, pulled the flaps up, and the plane drifted into the water. The problem was that the plane landed head first, and the first pilot in command, Iyad R., rescued the co-pilot before he drowned in the water. Or maybe not; maybe he wasn’t real. His body was never found.
Cat Faces
Shuhan Jiang, Grade 9
Eternal Youth
Natasha Nderitu, Grade 9
In fields of emerald, under skies of blue, Where whispers of the wind weave tales anew, There lies a place where dreams take flight, And shadows dance in the soft moonlight.
So let us wander in this realm divine, Where the essence of beauty forever shines. In the garden of the soul, we find our truth, In the poetry of life, eternal youth.
Arrows
Juna Hoxholli, Grade 9
Spring Embrace
Jenny Huynh, Grade 11
In the warm weathers embrace, The earth awakes.
Everything fits together like a simple harmonic puzzle.
From a deep slumber, The flowers awake.
Budding blooms paint beauty through the lands.
The birds chirp tirelessly, Their melodies echoing through the trees.
The trees glisten their bright green glow. The grass gleaming for miles to come.
The fresh breeze engulfs the body as the breeze leaves your skin you ’ re yearning for more.
Full Bloom
A Reflection from Our Seniors
A Reflection from Anya Geist
Denisa and I are now seniors, and this spring is our last one as Editors-inChief of The Apricot Journal. I have been Editor-in-Chief since I co-founded the Journal freshman year (with Emma Robeau ‘23); Denisa has been on the staff all four years, and has been Editor-in-Chief since partway through sophomore year. It has been a momentous experience for both of us.
I have spent so much time on the Journal throughout my high school career. From reviewing our first-ever submissions, to choosing our first-ever staff, to hosting our first-ever writing workshop (on Google Meet, because of remote learning), a LOT of work went into creating this magazine. There were always new ideas to talk about (like an anthology or best of the year issue), deadlines to meet (proofreading the night before publication, pushing for submissions before each issue), and writing workshops to plan (who will bring the snacks? Who will run the presentation?). It was hard to do at times, but it was always worth it, and because of the incredible support and ideas of Denisa and all of our staff, it was always possible.
Founding and co-leading the Journal has taught me so much. I have learned how to communicate with others, how to run meetings and workshops, how to edit writing. Most importantly, I have continued to realize how much I love writing—and how much I love encouraging other people to write.
I will miss the Journal deeply when I graduate. But I know it is in good hands. Our advisor, Mrs. Eressy, has always supported us. And the Journal would not exist without our staff—I know they will carry it on next year, because they’ve shown throughout the years how much they care.
So I feel good. Even though I am leaving, I am happy with what I have done with the Journal. And I know it has the potential to grow even more.
Fish Tessellation
Patience Munyiri, Grade 9
Natalie Boucher ‘24 Editor
Personal favorite piece: “Applebees,” V4, I4.
Why: I liked how spontaneous the idea was, aside from it being solely based on my trip to Applebee's an hour prior.
Favorite piece from another writer: “Fog” by Muriel Gibbons, V3, I1.
Why: It captured the eeriness and sometimes sinister nature of nature.
A New Beginning
An Binh Pho, Grade 12
Editor Ben Morrow ‘24
Personal favorite piece: "Driving in the Berkshires” V3, I4.
Why: Reading it back now, I think I did a good job conveying the emotions I wanted to in a relatively short poem. Conciseness is always something I've struggled with in my writing, and I'm happy that this piece turned out well.
Favorite piece from another writer: "The Gardenia" by Emma Robeau, V3, I4.
Why: We don't get a lot of short stories as submissions, and this is I think my favorite one we ' ve gotten. It conveys some really beautiful emotion, and also has great descriptions.
Turtle Tessellations
Madeline Trombly, Grade 9
Denisa Iljas ‘24
Co-Editor-In-Chief
Personal favorite piece: “The Fighting Seasons” is definitely one of my favorite poems that I’ve written, V1 I3.
Why: I was inspired by fables such as the Tortoise and the Hare. Fables were a big part of my childhood, so the poem makes me nostalgic and happy to look back on it.
Favorite piece from another writer: “Solar Eclipse” by Shannon Dennehy, V3 13.
Why: The poem has a nice rhythm to it and I like how the topic is about something recent even though it is from an older issue!
Diamond Flower
Shania Tuffour, Grade 9
Anya Geist ‘24
Co-Editor-In-Chief
Personal favorite piece: "Thunderstorm,” V1, I1.
Why: This piece reminds me of summer, of family and friends. I like the descriptiveness of it, too; I had fun remembering exactly how these summer storms unfolded.
Favorite piece from another writer: The Decision, Abby McDermott, V1, I1.
Why: With college decisions coming out and my high school career coming to an end, I find this piece very meaningful. So much is changing right now, and in a way, it feels very random and very much out of my control. I like how Abby represented this.
Staff Members!
EDITORS-IN-CHIEF
ANYA GEIST & DENISA ILJAS
MAGAZINE LAYOUT
MADELINE TROMBLY & IYAD RHAOUAT
EDITORS
NATALIE BOUCHER
JENNY HUYNH
VASIANA MANCOLLI
BENEDICT MORROW
NATASHA NDERITU
SOCIAL MEDIA MANAGER
SHANNON DENNEHY
TEACHER ADVISORS
MRS. ERESSY, MS. BISHOP, & MX. YOUNG
