Flame 2021

FLAME 2021

Flame 2021

Credits Cover art: Teresa Wang Cover design: Sofia Masci, Elise Wong-McBride Back cover photo: Ameena Haque Logo design: Noor Maraqa Print layout team: Alida Cuttriss Natalie Dang Caitlin Hopkins Ariya Kaushek Abby Kim Noor Maraqa Sofia Masci Araika Ramchandran Naomi Smith Claire Sun Elise Wong-McBride Digital team: Alida Cuttriss Caitlin Hopkins Noor Maraqa Sofia Masci Faculty Advisors: Graham Toben Margaret Reges

Photo by Ariya Kaushek

Who are we?

Flame is the literary and arts magazine for Castilleja Middle School.

Once a year, students are asked to submit art, short stories, poems, photography and more.

Over the course of two months, the Flame team has put everything together and published it.

Flame is an elective for 7th and 8th graders. We meet every two weeks for 55 minutes.

The team started off by talking about aesthetics and the visuals of the magazine.

We started collecting submissions not long after.

The team met up for the first time in person and started pulling all the submissions together.

Then we made full pages on google slides.

This was a long hard undertaking, but we did it!

Let’s see what you think.

Turn the page . . . →

Photo by: Natalie Dang

Poems by Naomi Smith Web

Ignorance

When to caught up in my own praises The spider weaves her web.

I can forget others Flies buzz.

Bragging on and on The world groans, slowly turning.

Ignorance Weave.

Try try try.

Why must i suffer this fate Try to escape, Ignorance surrounds me This horrible death.

No one will listen Ignorance Star Stars Floating balls of flame People lay under the stars Watching Flame floating In infinite darkness Glowing Pulsing Curling into themselves Explosion

Open water The moon glitters On open water The stars shine On open water The bird settle On open water A single boat glides On open water Whispers follow On open waters Boat hull slices through The calm waters And open water calls

A dark pain in my heart No one noticing my pain No one noticing my absence Ignorance Do not feign ignorance I know you see it You see the pain and sadness Act upon others ignorance

If

Music Music A safe haven Flowing beats Nodding Tapping Others beat down Music beats UP Rise up Flow with the ebbing piano And the harsh guitar Rise UP Shout to the heavens Cry up to the sky Shout from the rooftops Let the music flow

Magic

We always dwell on WHAT IF? Magic is not immaterial Why? Magic is not material We dwell on what could be Magic is soul We dwell on what could have Someone’s being happened Magic is whatever you want it Do not fret on the past or the future. to be Why dwell on horrid possibility Magic is a whisper While the unknown is frightening, A shout Do not fret Magic is power You may hear whispers of others The power to rise up and fight Judging you The power to lay low and listen Pay no heed To lead and to follow Dwell on the lovely what if’s Magic is soul What if?

Remember Claire Sun Remember when you told us To keep our heads down.

Do not draw attention.

Work hard.

And everything will be just fine.

Amelia Chen

Remember when you said Watch the others.

How they struggle.

You have it good.

Remember when you lied?

Remember when you Mocked us For the size of our eyes.

Belittled us For a lingering accent.

Shamed us for the color of our skin. I’m sorry that my skin is not the perfect peach of your crayon box.

Remember when you started to prey on our elders? My grandfather.

Her auntie.

His grandma.

Their father.

Think of the ounce of culture That you have burned to the ground Words of everlasting wisdom Remain unspoken.

Remember when we apologized. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. For not living up To your impossible expectations. I thought I did everything right. I guess it wasn’t enough for you.

We are not a virus.

We are not Your political puppets. 吃苦 Eat the bitter.

Do not complain.

Do not speak up.

But if not us, then who will? Who will fight for us?

Araika Ramchandran

Art: Starstruck

By Teresa Wang

Moon Talks

By Abigail Kim

There once was a girl who spoke to the moon, she’d wake up in the morning see it gone too too soon.

Then at nightfall, it’d return once more so she speaks while no one ever hears, they snore.

The moon, though however so far away, could always hear her saying, no matter anyway.

No one ever saw, and No one ever heard Besides her favorite moon that’s shining bright over the stars.

Colors

English Homework Delilah Kaplinsky

Blossoms Araika Ramchandran

Flower Ashley Kwong

Betsy Cortes

Jade W. Rothbaum

A Chirp of a Hundred Words Kirat Kaur Once upon a time, there was an old man who lived all alone. His neighbor's all thought he was lonely.

However, the old man had friends; his friends were birds. He could talk to them, and they could talk to him. Every day, he would wake up, go to the park, sit and stay there for hours, listening to the birds chirp. Everybody thought that the old man was crazy, but he didn't care. He only cared for his friends. The old man was affectionate and kind.

One day, his niece came to visit him. She was tall and her skin was white as paper. She looked like she sucked on a lemon and had way too much makeup on. She told the old man that she felt sorry for him and didn't want him to live alone.

“Come live with me, you wouldn't have to be alone.” She ushered him into the limo. but in reality, she couldn't care less about the old man. She just wanted to sell his home and get the money. The old man knew he couldn't get out of this mess, so he reluctantly went to live with his niece.

She was allergic to sunlight so her house had no windows. She locked the old man in a dirty cramped room and gave him things she thought old people liked: applesauce, television, crossword puzzles, and the heat cranked up to 400 degrees. But the truth was that the old man hated all those things, he was always bad at the crossword and didn't like the mushy apple sauce. Days passed by, and the old man long to see his friends. He devised a plan. The old man saved up his bread and put them in the lining of his coat. The old man knew that if he played his cards right, he could go home. After he had enough food in his coat, he pretended to be sick, so that his niece would drive him to the doctors. And he could run away to his friends. but things didn't go as planned; his niece called the doctor instead of taking the old man to the doctor. lucky for him, his niece left his room’s door unlocked. He ran outside, pulled open his coat, and whistles for his bird friends. But since the home didn't have any windows, he couldn't tell what time of day it was. And it was midnight. No birds would be flying out and about now.

Disappointed he hung his head and trudged his way back to his niece’s home. But his friends did hear him.

“Don't worry we'll save you!” The birds chirped. The birds put a bit of coat in their beak and carried him home. He lived happily ever after. As for his niece, well, her limo was always a bathroom for the old man’s friends.

So, whenever you hear a bird chirp, they're probably trying to tell you the story of the old man.

Yellow Flower Bunch Chloe Redon

Zenia Rehan

Mira Rohatgi

My Little Jane

By Abigail Munzig

T

here was a four-year-old girl and her mom living in a tiny house in Louisiana.

They were both still asleep, for it was 3:07 am. The rain pattered gently on the window panes, and all was quiet on Cherokee street, with a gradual golden glow of the streetlights, and an occasional single cricket chirp. Little Jane was cuddled up in her comforter, which had little roses stitched on the hem of the quilt. She stirred, repositioned herself, and closely hugged her bun-bun, a ragged, worn-out, and beloved stuffed animal rabbit, with one button eye, and a sagging ear. The sun slowly rose up over the telephone lines illuminating the little shaggy neighborhood. Jane’s mother was across the hall in her room, sitting on the edge of the cheap air mattress she bought at the pharmacy, with a little lamp on. She was tracing her index finger along with the silver frame of a picture. This picture was the only true belonging she treasured. It was of a little girl with two braids, smiling a grin of a front tooth missing, and a man and a woman standing behind her with their hands on either side of her shoulders. The woman had shoulder-length auburn hair, matching her daughter’s. The man had bright blue eyes matching with the little girls’, and he had a similar face to the girls and a similar smile. Something about the man’s face was different, though. It looked as if his face in the picture was saying, This is my little girl and my wife, and we are all a happy family. For this is reality, or was reality. The woman in the photo was the same woman stroking the frame, and who had tears rolling down her face like an uncontrollable but gentle and silent rainfall. “Jane, honeybug!” her mother called from down the hall. “Time for breakfast!” Jane rolled over in her sleeping bag and unzipped herself. She stood up in her tattered nightgown and began to get ready.

“Coming, Mommy!” She reached for her white shirt with Minnie mouse on it. She pulled it on and it just barely fit, because she had worn this same t-shirt for three years straight, every single day. It was all she had. It smelled of expired milk and metal. She put this on along with a faded cotton skirt from under her drawers. She scrambled to reach for her hairbrush she had gotten at the local dollar tree. Her mother was making instant oatmeal in the kitchen. “Hey, mommy?” “Yes, Janie?”

“Why does Mary have a big house and lots of clothes and a Barbie doll? And why don’t me and you have a big house and lots of clothes and a barbie doll?” it was silent for a moment. The only noise heard was the sound of the neighbor’s dog uttering a single bark.

“Honeybug, Mary’s family is different than our little family of you and me.” “But why, Mommy?” Ms. Hadley pondered this difficult question for a moment and thought about how to explain and contrast their differences to Mary’s family and why. “Mary has different circumstances, honeybug, because money is difficult for us, and people handle it in different ways. Some people have more, some people have less, and we have less money than other people, including Mary’s family, honeybug.” “Oh. Okay, Mommy. But can’t we get more money by just going to the place with money?” “You mean the bank?”

“Yeah. That place. Can't we just go there to get more money?”

“Honeybug, it’s more complicated than just that. I really wish the world worked like that for us.” “Oh.” “It’s okay. We’re managing just fine. We’re ok. Eat your breakfast.”

“I love you, Mommy,” Jane said. “I love you too my little honeybug.” Ms. Hadley smiled a sad smile while rubbing her daughter’s back as she ate spoonfuls of her porridge gratefully. “Thanks for breakfast Mommy,” Jane said looking up, with her missing-toothed smile. She stood up, gave her mom a quick kiss on the cheek, and went over to feed Ziggy, their Shih-Tzu terrier. She knelt down, poured him a little bowl of cheap dog food they could afford, and he gave him a kiss on his ear. Jane and her mother have had good ole’ Ziggy ever since Jane’s father died at war. They got Ziggy a year after Jane had been born. Jane didn’t remember her father, for she was only an infant when he went away to war. He departed for battle only three weeks after Jane’s birth. Jane thought for a minute about this.

“Mommy? What was Daddy like?”

“Oh, sweetie. Your dad was the bravest and kindest man I knew. He was smart and funny, and he loved you so very very much, honeybug.”

“Do you still miss him, Mommy?”

“Janie, I miss him every minute of every day,” she thought about that picture last night and her tears of loss and sadness. She looked down at her little daughter’s face. It was sad, confused, hopeful. She gently took Jane’s cheeks in her hands and stroked a loose string of her auburn hair, and then tucked it behind her ear. She looked into her wild, beautiful, curious, ocean-blue eyes. “But, when I look at you, and your beautiful eyes, and your sweet little smile, I see him. I see your dad. I see him in you.” “I miss him too.” Jane said quietly stroking Ziggy’s fur. Ziggy hopped up from his gray bed, and scurried over to where the window was, looking at the squirrel who was terrified of Ziggy’s barking. Soon, the squirrel went up a tree, and stayed there for a while. Ziggy closed his mouth and stopped barking.

His wet nose trailed along the hardwood floor. It stopped at the food bowl, where he hungrily ate all his food, licking his food bowl clean.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A few hours after dinner, Jane was playing with Ziggy when her mother walked over with a look on her face that was unrecognizable -- but it wasn’t a positive look. “Jane, we need to…..we need to move.”

“Huh?” “Evacuation is when something happens that makes us leave because of a scary or unsafe problem. And that’s right now.”

A Short Story Caroline Christensen I look into the girl's eyes. They are eerily familiar. All of the sudden, I flash back to long ago. I am staring into those same eyes, but as a baby, crying. Someone is pulling her away.

I quickly bring myself back to present. Ever since this horrid war started, I have been realizing more about, well, everything, then I ever wanted to know. Sure, I knew there were evil people, but I thought at least most of us were like Cyprus the great, fair and good. Then, it wouldn't matter if Sparta had more power. Maybe no one would even want more power!

But, I need to get this girl, whoever she may be, to safety. I don't care if she is spartan. I don't care if she is the king's daughter. Every life should count as much as the next. So I lie my water jug on the floor, and carry her away, past all the wounded soldiers. I can't take care of her here, or I would be dawned a traitor. So I run, and soon I am away from the sound of the battle. I lie her on the beach, and now I wish I had kept my fresh water.

But I hadn't been schooled for nothing. I slowly nurse her back to health. I tell her my ideas of the world by day, and stories of my city by night.

On the 5th day, she opens her eyes and smiles. "Thank you so much. I thought I would die out there." I wave the thought away with my hand. "Your thought proves wrong. What's your name?" She smiles even wider.

"Victoria. It means Victory in Latin. My father is a trader, and a good one. He made it all the way to Rome, where he met my mother. " Her face falls. "But I wish everything would be peaceful, and I could hear you agree." "Yes, well…" I realize I have no excuse, I just wanted her to hear. "Maybe there is something we can do," she exclaims, breaking me out of my train of thought."We could write them a letter. It wouldn't be much, but what else could we do out on this barren island?" She chuckles. "Huh", I say, "But, well, how would we write?". "Don't you athenians carry paper and ink around with you everywhere you go? Well, we have out chitons, we could stretch them out and write on them" "Yes!" I exclaim! "And we could make an ink with this grass here!"

So, we write a letter to the kings, each of us contributing a little of our chiton, and I figure out how to make a makeshift pen for our makeshift ink. We travel to a nearby village, and send the letters with two traders to their respective cities. Then, we rest. One day, a merchant annonces to the town that the king of Athens and Sparta are to come here to discuss a peace agreement. And here they come. Along with them comes my father, who offers to bring Victoria home. As we board the ship, my father pauses and takes me aside. "I never wanted to tell you this," he says. "I wanted to keep between me and that trader and keep living life. But that girl, Victoria?

She's your sister."

Zenia Rehan

Landry Agnich

Candy Fu

Alida Cuttriss

Natalie Dang

Photos Galore

Karys Chang

Natalie Dang

We Were All The Same Ariya Kaushek “We need a generation to create CHANGE” Change for the societies, systems, and governments throwing away kids treating them like adults, Even alternating to the “bad part of town” where the solutions all start from those excluded out of range, Change for the 1 in 3 black men prone to advance to jail with no consult

“There is power in what we do when we embrace those struggling” The late nights, tears, blood, and sweat even to realize your client execution day is about to begin, Why do we want to kill all broken people, and instead represent the broken “because I do what I do because I am broken too” The trepidation and despair as you grasp your last 3 breaths or hug your kids one last time as your life comes to an end for the color of your skin?

“Hope is a vital component to change the world” Hope is what disconnects those who keep the peace versus those who speak up when others tell you not, We can’t change the world without courage but hope will get you where you need to go lure, An obligation to position yourself in hopeless places as criminal justice treats you better if your rich and guilty than what the poor and innocent got.

“It’s time to change our Narratives make a stance in this cruel world” To believe that gender, race, age, and any factor does not affect your ability to be who you want and make your step, Willing to partake in an uncomfortable situation to find ways to learn about those suffering to understand how to be their ally because we never got anywhere alone, In the end, any color of skin should not represent division but unity, although none of us are the same, seeing color as a flaw should be seen as a strength, as what would life be like if we were all the same?

10 Ways to Look at a Spiderweb Naomi Smith I Among twenty snowy mountains, a spider crawls, forming its home, its web.

II The web glistens in the sun, like a beacon to safety.

III The fly flies, flies into the web, the fly once flying cries.

IV The spider crawls, along, alone, nothing but silence, as the fly cries, then no more.

V The world is still, still as the web, still as the spider waiting, watching, waiting.

VI Still the world turns, it’s motion reverberating across, the spider's web.

VII As the scientist wonders, steel and spiderweb, one and the same? strength of one no match for the other? how can something so small, so feeble, bear that much?

VIII The web glows, glows as the sun hits it, glows as the flies fly, and the bees buzz and the world turns.

IX The world buzzes, buzzes around, around, around, around, and the spider spins in silence.

X Spinning, spinning, spinning the way of the spider, the web so strong, so safe, so peaceful, and the world spins, and the spider spins with it.

The sadness blind sighted me I thought that I was safe From his cool touch But here he is now Coming up from new depths Caressing my cheek with his finger Slowly bringing back hopelessness and despair

He feeds off my shame And broken dreams And I don’t try to stop him

His fractured eyes pity me Like I’m a weak child I am not weak

He takes comfort in my screams They give him a thrill My heart beats wildly fast So he puts his ear to my chest And listens

He sighs with pleasure as he Brings out my memories of pain His lips part as he Sees me struggle to break out of his grip He holds my wrist down Begging me to stay I can’t. I can’t. I can’t But I can’t leave him And so he pulls me close And I don’t try to fight it

He toys with my thoughts And my heart And I don’t try to say anything

I gave into him He took my body My mind And my soul We wrote our own vows And said, “I do” And that’s when I told him “I love you”

Poem: Zoë Friedman

Art: Elise Wong-Mcbride

Photos by Abby Munzig

A Hummingbird’s Wing

By Claire Sun as grass turns to green winter to spring nobody sees a broken body a hummingbird’s wing ashy gray, stiffened feathers smokey greys blend together nobody measures a drop of blood deep amongst the heather a child stops; nothing grand his mother comes to reprimand innocent, resolute they turn to go the hummingbird cradled in his hand

Silenced forever

by Ariya Kaushek Having a voice wanting to be said, but instead locked inside forever dead, Words beating your head day and night, Too delicate to be spoken with a fright.

BLM by Amy Luo

By A i

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C t is

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By A i l Ki

to t k i b ju l he k e wa k a m o t e ju n ha le re b ha de ? i p t yo ’ve y ru ce s o r f a n to t k i b

Untitled

By Deeksha Venkat

01:35 PM, January 2021, AUDIO FILE RECORDING 1 The whole building is here. We are currently going through the process of transporting an apple to outer space.

The apple sits in a cage. It is getting teleported up to Quadrant Four.

Teleportation technology is difficult, there’s about a nonillion calculations to go through when figuring it out. Outside the apple and the cage, there is a thin glass box. Scientists click away at the screen.

I still am doubting that it is the best idea to send it up, but we must go through with it. The apple is round and full, and it seems to glisten in the sunlight.

02:14 PM, January 2021, AUDIO FILE RECORDING 2 Doctor Tedari is the one to finally send it up.

After years of calculation, the apple is gone. It vanishes in a second, and you can very clearly see that it has for a fact, disappeared.

I hope with all inside me that this works.

It was my idea after all.

11:45 PM, August 2028, AUDIO FILE RECORDING 85 The apple is back.

There has been a bite taken out of it.

11:51 PM, August 2028, DIARY NOTEBOOK FILE 1 Joseph brushes past me, his hand closed around the small apple.

We are all crowding around each other, all of us circling Joseph and the apple in his hand. He clutches it protectively, and I scoff under my breath. He’s acting like it’s his.

The apple was my idea. My way to find out if anything was out there.

It was far-fetched, sure, and no one ever thought it would work. But if the apple did come back someday, if something had happened to it, then we would finally know the truth. We’d put an end to the useless rumors, the

false evidence, and finally see if something out there existed that wasn’t us. My idea worked.

My heart is pounding in my chest, threatening to break through my ribcage. It feels all wrong all of a sudden. Not knowing whether something- or should I say someone- out there existed was almost a cushion. It was nice not to know, because the truth could be more disastrous than I anticipated. If somehow someone ate this, then who is that person? Why are they out there? How are they out there? It feels all wrong now, to know that a month from now we may be heading into combat with space aliens.

It's too late now. I snatch the apple from Joseph, and stare at it, caressing it’s shiny surface. This singular apple, just a random fruit has helped to make a scientific discovery that I didn’t know was possible.

Even though the room is still moving, filled with people trying to get a better look at the apple, it’s still somehow at a standstill. We’re all shocked that it came back, but we’re all also paralyzed in awe about it. I also suppose that we’re all a little afraid of how the public will react, and whether a small apple is enough to actually discover if other life does exist. I know I’m afraid of explaining that.

It feels like the world lies in my hands, and not in a good way.

“Everyone, quiet!” Doctor Tedari’s voice booms through the room. She has a commanding presence, when she walks into the room, people listen. I don’t quite have that presence. When I walk into the room, people barely even acknowledge my existence. “Johnson. Hand the apple over.” I walk over to her, and place the apple in her hands. The second I do, I nearly grab it back. There’s something about it that feels off. It feels like fire, but a sweet fire that’s luring me in. Doctor Tedari recognizes it too. Her eyes glaze over the second she touches it’s red surface. For a second, her pupils disappear, and her eyes are pure orbs of white. She shakes her head and smiles, but something is off.

What is it?

07:51 AM, August 2028, DIARY NOTEBOOK FILE 2 I am awake.

I have been awake for around 24 hour now.

I didn’t sleep last night, my dreams plagued with thoughts of aliens, apples, and white orbs. I’m worried for Doctor Tedari, something is off.

At exactly eight, I head out the door, repeating the same mantra in my head. Something’s not right, something's not right.

My work has always been dangerous, and I’ve felt guilty one too many times. I hold the life of too many astronauts in my hands. Right now- for the first time- I am holding my life in my hands. I chose to send the apple down here, and now I have unleashed something on myself. I am fully responsible for my nightmares, and I need to figure out how to fight against them.

My first thought is that the bite from the apple has to be fake. I can’t quite come up with another explanation for it besides aliens, and those aren’t humanly possible. I shudder at the thought of aliens. No aliens means my dreams will be safe, and I will be safe from my ridiculous fears.

The second I enter the lab room, I realize my fears have blurred the line with reality.

08:23 AM, August 2028, DIARY NOTEBOOK FILE 3 The room is dead.

At least, that’s what it looks like.

It’s completely black and white, all color drained from it. All the spirit and life that I have put into making this lab room feel special is gone. Monochrome. Lifeless.

In the center of the room, in a shiny red color, sits the apple.

The only thing left untouched.

Something is wrong, I know it. Lab rooms aren’t supposed to look this way. Nothing is supposed to look this way. The way my life functions has been ruined by a simple red apple. Doctor Tedari is holding the apple. She is in full color. I look down at myself, and I am in shades of black and white. Doctor Tedari’s eyes are pure white again, and she caresses the apple softly, whispering to it.

“Doctor… What are you doing here this early?” Doctor Tedari usually shows up a little late. I casually ask the question, trying to mask my underlying fear.

She doesn't respond. Instead her eyes darken, and she makes her way over to me. The apple sits in her left hand while she grabs me with her right hand.

“Don’t you see? Everything is so much bigger now. The world is endless. Our power is endless.” Her voice has an edge to it, almost as if she’s asking it as a question. Daring me to doubt the power of the apple.

I don’t doubt it’s power, it clearly has some kind of curse to it. My real worry is whether the apple’s power is good, or whether it’s something that was better off left in space.

“Doctor, don’t you feel like something is wrong?” My question hangs in the air. A wide smile spreads across Doctor Tedari’s face. She leans in.

“This is where you are mistaken. For nothing is wrong, but everything is right.” The room flashes white, and when I open my eyes all I see are a thousand apples.

Nothing is right, and nothing ever will be again. I am trapped in a prison that I carried myself into.

florals

Photos by: Chloe Redon Callie McElhinney Mira Rohatgi Anonymous

LOOKING INTO SPACE

By Mira Rohatgi

Artwork by Abigail Munzig

Chapter 1

“Julia?... I asked you a question!”

“Huh?” “I asked you about how you think yesterday’s presentation went. Please focus.” Ms. Wilson’s voice sounds angry.

My face turns bright red. “Oh uh, I thought it was really good. It was very informative and the speaker’s presentation was really nicely prepared.” The class stares at me as I talk. Finally, the bell rings, and Ms. Wilson says in her booming voice “Ok thank you. Class is dismissed, Julia please stay with me.” I swallow hard trying to get rid of the big lump in my throat. I slowly walk up to Ms. Wilson’s desk.

“Hello. Ms. Wilson” I say softly.

“Hi Julia, I wanted to talk to you about what happened today in class. Was there something on your mind that you would like to tell me?”

I shift on my feet as she talks. “No, I’m sorry I was just daydreaming it won’t happen again.”

Ms. Wilson eyes me with suspicion “Ok, you can go but please come tomorrow focused.” I rush out of the classroom my mind racing. Oh no, oh no, oh no! Could that have been a seizure??

Chapter 2

When I was 6 years old I was diagnosed with absence epilepsy. Absence epilepsy is a type of epilepsy that isn’t very common but it mainly affects children. My mom and dad started to notice that I would space out for a couple of seconds at a time throughout the day. Then later on my babysitter noticed it and finally my parents had an idea of what they thought was going on. My mom and dad decided that they wanted the doctor to check me out. They took me to the hospital for some blood tests, EEGs, and sleep studies. Later on, we found out that it was absence epilepsy. I was put on medications for about 3 years and then the doctor said that I could go on remission and didn’t have to take my medication anymore. My medications had some side-effects like stomach aches, mood changes, and I tended to get frustrated with things. It was awesome to finally go off medications and just be a normal kid again.. After going off all of those medications I didn’t have any side-effects at all! It’s been a little less than a year since I’ve been in remission.

It’s almost the summer and I’m finishing up the last few months of 4th grade.

Chapter 3

I’m in the auditorium waiting to be picked up while my heart is beating a mile a minute. What am I going to tell my parents? What if it happens again? Was it really what I thought it was? My mind is flooded with questions but no answers. I haven’t had a seizure ever since I was in remission and now I feel like I might have had one and I don’t know what to do. My twin sister Kayla walks into the auditorium bouncing up and down laughing with her friends.

She sees me and waves goodbye to her friends to join me. “Hi Julia!” she says in her happy voice.

“Hi!! How was your day?” I say trying to match her energy.

“Good! I learned a lot and Ms. Phelps even gave us candy!”

She holds up her cherry lollipop. “That’s great! C’mon, I think they called our names” We walk out of the door and go to the car.

Our nanny Jasmine jumps out of the car to help us load our backpacks into the trunk. “Hey girls! How was school?” she asks in her cheerful voice.

“It was good! Ms. Phelps gave us candy! I have a lot of homework though.” Her face scrunches up as she looks at her backpack filled with books.

“Ok then let’s get home so you guys can finish before your parents come home,” Jasmine says as she opens the car door. The whole drive home I am silent while Kayla is explaining her day, talking a mile a minute. “Wow, Kayla! What a day!” Jasmine exclaims as she leads us into the house from the car. “Julia how was your day?” I look down at the floor. Truthfully, my day was really bad but I didn’t want to tell her that so I smiled and explained the good parts of my day. “Looks like you two had a busy day! Why don’t you girls go rest for 20 minutes and then start your homework. I’ll be folding laundry in the laundry room! Kayla and I run down to the playroom and start playing a variety of games. Playing with Kayla makes me forget about everything that happened today. When 20 minutes is over I go upstairs and start my homework. Jasmine walks in after half an hour to check on me. “Hey Julia, how is your homework going?” she says smiling.

“Good, almost done!” I say. “Ok just call me when you’re done!”

“Julia!” Jasmine shouts “What?”

“I told you to call me when you’re done. You zoned out for a second” “Oh sorry. I didn’t mean to” I chuckle nervously.

“Ok, finish up I’ll be in the living room. She closes the door and my heart starts beating faster and faster. I thought I was in remission! I thought this wouldn’t happen anymore! I look down at my paper which has teardrops on it. How am I going to tell my parents? I cry and think about this for another 10 minutes. I decide its no use crying, so I put the thought to the side and finish my homework.

Chapter 4

My alarm goes off at 6:30, and I want to cry. I want to stay cuddled with my teddy bear instead of getting up and recollecting yesterday's day. I stare at the wall for 10 minutes and then force myself out of bed. I get dressed and sluggishly walk down to breakfast. Kayla and my older brother Pierce are already at the dining table. We talk while we eat breakfast and then I get ready and go to school. I put all my books and folders into my bag and head out the door

The next few days at school were pretty good. My friends and I obsess about how crazy it is that we only have a couple more weeks of school left! 4th grade flew by way too fast. I’m going to miss having Ms. Wilson as a teacher.

Everything was going well until Friday. We always have recitation on Fridays and our teacher told us to have a quick practice session right before we perform. I was practicing the poem in front of my best friend Saira and then suddenly I forgot where I was in the poem. I forgot what I was even doing for a second! Saira thought I just forgot the line and prompted me. I know that it was another episode and I finally decide that it is time to talk to my parents. I don’t know if they will believe me or not, but it’s worth a try.

Chapter 5

“Hey, Julia! Something on your mind?” My mom is looking at me from the doorway of my room while I am doing the rest of my homework.

“No..well yeah...can I talk to you and Papa in your bedroom?” I say hesitantly.

“Of course. Let me go get him.”

I wait in the bedroom until my mom comes with my dad. My stomach is doing somersaults. Literally.

“Ok honey, so what do you want to tell us?”

“The past couple weeks I have noticed that I have been blanking out for a couple of seconds at a time...I I think I might be having episodes.” I say in a shaky voice.

My parently look me dead in the eye for a second before my mom speaks up. “Oh, sweetie! Don’t worry they probably aren’t anything. You might just be busy and thinking about some other things” she says confidently.

I wasn’t surprised. They aren’t going to believe a 4th grader. They most likely thought I was making it up. But I knew I wasn’t. I got back to my room hoping that maybe they were right. Maybe I was just imagining things. Maybe my mind was just focused on something else. Maybe I was daydreaming. Or maybe, that disease that I had pushed away for a year was just coming back.

Mira Rohatgi

Caroline Yuan Anvi Shah

Violet Chaffee

Chloe Redon

Chloe Redon

Mujika by Amy Luo

Love, Mabel By: Jiwoo Oh

The metallic fragrance of bodies clashed against its lavender foes as it tinged the sickly air. Hair matted against her face, she gently stroked the soft feathers of the ring bearer and whispered small nothings in its ear. Step by step, she walked down the darkened aisle, fallen leaves strewn across empty chairs. The crunch against her bruised, bare feet was music to her ears. With a pace as slow as a dead man’s sail, she took in the setting and devoured it with her eyes. From above, darkness rolled in and formed majestic clouds, casting a hue of black across the bloodied altar. Closing her eyes, she gripped the bouquet with one hand—its thorns ripping through the satin and into her skin—the small bird perched on the other as she hummed the “Wedding March” to the echo of her steps.

As she stepped onto the altar with no one but herself, she dropped the bouquet and lifted her stained dress with her bloodied hands, a dress once the color of snow. She gripped the torn fabric of her gown and stooped in front of the cold man in black and white. Unfurling his frigid hand with hers, she took an empty glass and gave a toast to everyone there.

Lowering the glass, she felt a flutter against her shoulder, turning to see the dove flying away leaving her like all things do. Heaving in a deep breath, she strolled down the aisle and towards the grandiose manor. Beyond the glass door, broken diamonds littered the floor next to the fallen chandelier. Cutting the rope of the chandelier was the perfect distraction—herding the guests out to the lawn like a group of gazelles into a lion’s den.

Without hesitation, she walked across the floor, the diamonds jutting into her skin, numb to the touch. Kneeling down, she picked up a splintered diamond and lifted it to the light as it cast a rainbow of colors that reached the corners of the room. A single tear slid o her cheek, but no more came after that.

Lifting the hem of her gown, she made her way to the spiral of stairs, littered with the bodies of the caterers. Narrowly avoiding them, she climbed upstairs, leaving footprints of blood from the diamond cuts on each of the steps. Into the bridal suite, she creaked open the door to see the room, still and untouched by the brilliant massacre. Running her dirt-caked fingers through the pristine sheets, she turned to the drawer next to the bed as she flicked on the lamp, radiating warmth throughout the room. From the corner of her eye, she spotted the

music box, alone where she had left it. Gingerly taking the music box in her hands, she twisted the small handle and listened to its tinkling melody. As she fell to her knees, the skirt of the dress enveloped her in a cloud of red and white. Closing her eyes, she gripped the music box ever so hard that her knuckles became blanched with white. She sighed as she set the music box down and heaved a large, heavy box from under the bed, rummaging through pictures of her and little sister, Ann, over the years. Memories flashed across her mind, taking her back to that fateful day.

It was a white Christmas, and as always, Mabel, Cameron, and Ann found themselves cocooned in the warmth of Auntie’s New York City home, the fire ablaze and marshmallows alight. Love, in its peculiar ways, seemed to blossom at this time of year—for Mabel and Cameron, this was especially so. Sisterly love between Mabel and Ann, romantic love between Mabel and Cameron, and brother-and-sister-like love between Ann and Cameron, they were inseparable. Yet, that particular year Ann’s friends were also in town and called her up, asking to meet at a small party down the block. Quickly informing her older sister, Ann rushed over, excited to see her old friends.

Five hours after Ann’s sudden departure, Mabel and Cameron slowly grew worried.

They called Ann but received voicemail. Heart thumping faster, Mabel called again but once again reached the monotonous voice of the machine. Breaths becoming more uneven, Mabel grabbed her coat and scarf and rushed out the door, dialing Ann over and over again. She threw open the car door and rushed inside, the ticking of her watch clicking frantically like a timer on a bomb. Shoving her hand into her pocket, she took out the address Ann had written for her on a piece of paper, and with a rumble of the engine, she sped through the night, unprepared for the worst.

When she arrived, the police and the ambulance were already there.

Wildfire Photograph By: Kate Hirsch

Val, Underwater By: Amy Luo

Smiling in relief, she placed the picture of Ann to her heart, tears dripping down her wet cheeks, her mascara sliding down with them. Opening her bloodshot eyes, she grinned, “I know you were lonely up there, Ann. I’ve sent a good number of people your way. I hope you aren’t lonely anymore.”

Policemen swarmed around the mansion, and the blare of the sirens echoed throughout the neighborhood, leaving neighbors curious as to what had happened. Kicking down the front door, policemen split up and rushed upstairs to search for the convict, but the woman had disappeared, gone without a trace except for a small, white note in the bridal suite, right on top of a large empty box, written in flawless handwriting:

“Love, Mabel.”

Summer Fun

By Ariya Kaushek

Fragrant flowers blossoming through the crisp air, Smores by the campfire and marshmallows in your hair, The oceans bitter but exhilarating feel stroke your skin, Memories made kept forever as the school year begins.

Photo By Alida Cuttriss

Inauguration

By Elena Salvatierra The past four years we have been pedaling backwards Our leader spreading lies and acting a coward The dividing line getting stronger The people not wanting to wait any longer We put up clever signs in our front lawns That a mother and daughter ponder The past four years we have been pedaling backwards Where a second grade class can see the destruction before it is there When their cup of tea burns their mouth And leaves damage on the years to come without Being a leader Being strong Being the person who doesn’t admit they are wrong The past four years we have been pedaling backwards In a pandemic where cases rise upwards And our own president doesn’t believe in safety procedures Finally now we are here Just a couple weeks ago our senators had to flee in fear For our nation's capital was being mobbed And now we bring back what they tried to rob A nation that has hope A nation that has diversity A nation that all people no matter what can go to a university A nation where the color of skin you were born with is not relevant A nation where we can rely on our president And now all around the country people sigh with realization That this is a relieving inauguration Photo By Mira Rohatgi

Late Afternoon Light By: Anonymous

Light is inspiring Awestriking Even frightening Mysterious And Everknowing Photo by Zenia Rehan

Untitled By: Caroline Christensen

Meadows are clean and Crisp Everflowing, with every wisp Flowers adorn the soil Insects born with wings like voile Grass running beneath the feet in waves Large trees overlooking If one gets hurt, reassuring Promising to make no harm Light streaming from the sky "Peaceful?" you cannot deny A popular place, whereby So why is it so not many here they go?

Millions of meadows fill the earth For all to be in one of great worth Would unsettle the peace It Would meddle with and decrease Photo by Zenia Rehan

The feeling you feel every time you're there

Untitled

By Deeksha Venkat

Shall we run against the stars?

Breaths like smoke in the air Leaving all worries behind The painted sunsets that lie in our minds Finally come to life Let us leave our earthly tethers Dream higher and farther Not be held down The shooting stars we wish on shall become reality We shall reach out Trying to grasp even the farthest away We will touch the moon and stars Fly away to eternity To all of our forgotten memories To honor our wishes Endless days of running against the sky The bonds between reality and dreams shattered As the line begins to blur

Shall we run against the moon?

Leave our own footprints there Sing our song to the stars Show each other what is wrong and right To find the stars The dream of eternity The promise of forever together Earth far below us The world inside your eyes Forgotten memories dark as our souls All coming back to us Within the blink of a second As we chase the stars of our dreams.

Art: Neon Dreams

By Allison Prakalapakorn

Fear of the Sun

By Juliet Schmeltzer Written in the style of Dante, from Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe

We walk around the crowded streets like nothings in the air Like we aren’t hiding from the darkness That lurks between the corners That whistles past and makes you shiver We pretend that the sun’s glow makes us happy When really it makes us fear the moment it seizes to show The moment when darkness overtakes The moment when we become crushed with the reality of our own problems We should choose to live in the moment with happiness and content Because though we do not have nothing to fear We should not run away quite yet.

Photo by Mira Rohatgi

“The Hidden Reason” by Natalie Dang Prologue:

“Mommy! Can I go swim in the water?” six year old Eve giggled. It was her first time at the beach and she was giddily digging through the sand, just stopping to notice the water.

“No, sweetie,” Eve’s mother sighed and looked at the horizon, “The ocean is a dangerous place, and you should never go in the water.”

“But why?” Eve asked, confused, “It looks safe.”

“Looks are deceiving, my love, trust me.”

“Okay, mama! Now let’s make a sand castle!”

8 Years Later:

“C’mon Eve, just come in!”

It was the first day of summer vacation after eighth grade, and Eve and her best friend, Tyrah, were at the beach having a picnic. Eve shook her head and sighed.

“You know I can’t, Ty, Mom won’t let me.”

“But why? All these years we’ve been to the beach together, and you haven’t even gone in once. Does she at least have a good reason?”

“I don’t know, Ty. I want to, but I should respect her rules. I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” Tyrah said skeptically.

Eve could understand Tyrah’s suspicion. She herself didn’t understand why her mother had forbidden her from swimming in the ocean water. Since she was six, every single time she had asked her mother if she could go swimming, she had always given different excuses. Poisonous jellyfish, underwater boulders, possible tsunamis, and anything bad that could happen in the ocean. Eve felt left out, confined to the small sandbar, when all of her friends happily horseplayed and splashed around in the ocean.

It was even stranger that her mother’s phobia was only of the ocean. Eve was allowed to swim everywhere else- pools, lakes, rivers, even wave simulators at waterparks.

The one thing that kept her from disobeying her mother was that she felt incredibly sorry for her. She had lost both of her parents when she was a teenager, then Eve’s father when Eve was only a toddler. Eve thought that following her mother’s rules was the least that she could do to respect and please her.

She sighed again. Why does Mom want me to stay out of the water, anyways? It’s so calm in the summer, and I don’t think anything could possibly go wrong! If I did go in, then it wouldn’t even be that bad.

She’s just being paranoid…….

“Hey, Ty!” she hollered.

“Yeah??” Tyrah answered.

“Come here!”

Tyrah grudgingly got out of the water and said, “What’s up?”

“Tonight. : here. I’m going to swim.” Eve answered “Um, ok? I’ll meet you here I guess...Your mom won’t be mad?” Tyrah said in confusion.

“T, that’s the point! I’m breaking her rule, so I have to do it late at night so she doesn’t notice me coming in soaking wet during the day.”

“Wow, Eve! Done with being a goody-two-shoes?”

“I guess...” Eve answered “Mom doesn’t really have a good reason.”

So, that night at : , both Eve and Tyrah snuck out of their houses, after claiming to be extra tired and going “to bed” “Whoa! It’s freezing!” Eve chattered, after jumping into the waves excitedly.

“Yup, welcome to the world of the ocean!” Tyrah giggled back, splashing salty water in Eve’s face.

The best friends played around for a little while, giggling, splashing, and diving, until about : .

“We’d better get going,” Eve said nervously. “I hope mom won’t notice me!”

Eve said goodbye to Tyrah and walked home. She stopped like a deer in headlights when she saw her mother, teary eyed and leaning against the doorway, frowning.

“Uh, mom! I...”

“Honey, what were you thinking?? Where were you??”

“Umm...at the beach?”

“Eve!! I told you to never go swimming in the ocean!”

“But mom, why? For 8 years you’ve been telling me to never swim there, but you never had a solid good reason why! There’s nothing dangerous at all there, at least in the summer!”

“Eve.” Eve’s mom’s voice grew solemn and stern, “Your father drowned at that very beach.”

Photo by Mira Rohatgi

To feel lonely Ariya Kaushek Feeling like you’re the only person in the world, Waiting to be loved and free, The numbness and solitary feeling and your rumination whirled, Pondering what I am missing in life or is it that life doesn’t need me, Watching others living the life you want to live, Trying to stop forcing yourself out of the one you’re in only, Deficient of getting the same love you want to give, Unraveling the thought that this is what it feels to be lonely.

Cyrano de Bergerac reimagining

By Alida Cuttriss and Sadie Evans

My name is Cyrano, and these last few weeks have been a blur. A big messy blur.

After everything, he betrayed me. And in a way, I betrayed him. I betrayed her.

Roxanne.

My Roxanne.

I really thought Roxanne and I had something. Or at least Christian and I. Honestly, I don’t know how I feel about him.

My feelings were strong enough to tear me apart.

I love him.

I love her.

But I made a mistake, I told her I was the one. I was the one who wrote the love emails. I was the one who made her fall even deeper in love, not Christian.

She should have been mine.

Once I told her, she became a person I’d never seen before. She yelled, grew closer with Christian, and shut me out.

My Roxanne.

I’ve lost her.

What’s the point of all this?

Christian came by my house today. He was really angry, like really, really angry.

I don’t know if it will ever be the same with either of them.

Christian loves Roxanne. Of course.

The jock and the cheerleader.

Not the cheerleader and the quiet writer.

Not the quiet writer and the jock.

I offered to help him. I told him I can write love emails to Roxanne.

For him.

To make her happy.

I wrote hundreds of emails to Roxanne signing them from Christian. I poured my heart and soul into writing them, never getting the credit I was desperate for.

She loved it.

I want to tell her that I love her. I want to tell Christian that too.

But... I can't.

I was sick and tired of this.

I decided to go through Christian’s account to... look for some things. The first place I looked was his trash. I saw his old emails and read them over again and again. I was obsessing over them until I saw it.

I saw the deleted email he sent to himself.

“cyrano like roxanne to. do something-become MOre iNteresting ;)” No additional text. Just that title. It was so Christian. Bad grammar, spelling, and capitalization. I used to like that about him.

I used to like him.

So I came up with a plan. I emailed Roxanne from Christian’s account:

Dear Roxanne, My one and only Roxanne. I love you, but in the last few weeks; I didn't know how to tell you. Since then, I asked my dear talented friend Cyrano to regal you with his talent. I asked him to write to you on my behalf. And, being the remarkable friend he is, he did it. Cyrano wrote to you multiple times a day and enjoyed it. He enjoyed it because Cyrano loves you. He loves me too. The thing is he doesn’t know how to tell either of us. So he pretended he was me writing to you. I am terribly sorry you had to find out this way. Please forgive me, darling.

Yours sincerely, Christian I read it over. Then I deleted it. I felt like this would make her fall even more in love.

Do I want them to be happy?

I made a couple of edits.

Hey roxanne, Im sry you had to find out this way but i wasnt the one righting all of those emails to you it was cyrano my good friend. I think he rly loves you.

See u soon.

Christian. <3 Ok, better. I hit send. My heart skipped a couple of beats. Then she called.

It took 7.42 minutes, but she called. I couldn’t make out the tone of her voice. Angry? Sad? Pleased? The only thing she said was “Come over, now.”

The line disconnected.

I found myself walking to her house. Just as she told me to do. I guess she invited Christian over too, to talk everything out.

Or to confront me.

I was scared. Christian came over earlier to yell at me. I wasn’t sure what he was going to do this time.

I could hear arguing coming from behind the door.

“Cyrano.” Roxanne said.

I looked at her, my eyes wide.

“Cyrano, we both need to talk to you. It’s… important.”

I hesitated at the doorway, realizing that if I chose to walk through, everything would change drastically.

I decided to follow. Worst decision I could have ever made.

“Yeah.” I whispered. A part of me knew I was losing them.

“We’ve, uh, talked it over.” Christian stood awkwardly. I could see the faint anger in his eyes.

“Talked what over?” I asked. I pretended I had no idea what they were talking about.

I tried to convince myself that they would take me in with open arms.

“We’ve come to a decision. What we, as friends, will look like now.”

When Roxanne told me I was just a friend, I felt like I had been hit by a pile of bricks. My heart shattered.

“What decision is there to make?” My voice shook as I spoke.

“Cyrano- I… I don’t really see you how you see me. You see, uh… I like Christian.”

In my head, I yelled at her. I yelled that she doesn’t truly love him. I love him. She will never love him as I do.

But my body stayed still. They can’t know I love him. No one knows.

“And, well, he likes me. We’ve come to an agreement that we both think would help improve this relationship.”

“Relationship?” They’re dating? I couldn’t breathe.

“And, well, we think it would be best if Christian and I didn’t- continue to… um… talk to you again.”

My heart stopped. I felt faint. I needed to get out of there - I needed to leave. Forever.

I ran out of there as fast as I could. I started crying hysterically. I couldn’t stop.

I was gasping for breath and trying to mend my broken heart.

I ran. I ran far away. From everything, everyone.

I’ve reached my final destination.

The lake, on the bridge.

Writing this story. About me, about them. About why life sucks and love is stupid.

Nothing matters.

Goodbye, Christian.

Goodbye, Roxanne.

Goodbye, World.

I won’t be missed.

Casti Pets

Ollie: Anna Kocher’s dog

Vienna Farano’s dog

Cassie: Caitlin Hopkins’ dog

Luna: Caroline Clague’s dog

Skai: Charlie Laurel’s dog

Skye: Karys Chang’s dog

Perfection

By Naomi Smith Perfection The hateful illusion The mirror tells you The outside looks See inside The scale tells the truth And that's okay Being healthy Is okay The people might whisper And you can block them out.

And the mirror and the scale all make you feel bad And that is all in your mind Push through Look beyond the outside Look past the scale And the mirror And the whispers Push Through

Alida Cuttriss

A Short Story Deeksha Venkat

The fire crackles behind me, and I can feel the fresh smell of pine trees. I’m starting to tell my grandkids the story of 2020..

“I thought lockdown would only be for a little while, like everyone else. But when my birthday finally hit, I started to realize that quarantine was a serious thing, and it wasn't going away any time soon.

I’d never imagined I’d be spending my birthday in front of a screen, and the thought devastated me. But when the day came, I was pleasantly surprised. My neighbors covered our street in happy birthday signs. My best friend dropped by homemade cupcakes, and we chatted 6 feet apart. As the day progressed, I met more friends virtually and physically. I realized that even though the lockdown wasn’t good, my friends and family made it memorable.”

I don’t notice the world in front of me, in my mind I’m back inside my house, cooking a lopsided chocolate cake on my birthday. I clear my throat and continue.

“Everything big seemed to happen during quarantine. 2020 was the year I was going to graduate from elementary school, but because of the lockdown I had to miss all of the big events. My graduation was entirely virtual, I had to say goodbye to my friends over tiny glowing boxes on a computer screen. I also loved theatre- I still do. The 5th grade play was something I had been looking forward to forever, but I was the first thing to get canceled by the school.

It was miserable at first, if I’m being honest. I had to miss out on all the things that made graduating real, and I felt like I had never really left elementary school. But then it clicked in me- if I chose to make quarantine something that I dreaded, it would only make it worse. With a new attitude, I started off a new school year, and a new part through my life journey.”

I’m smiling broadly now, but it doesn’t matter. I’ve almost forgotten 2020, with all the other years that have passed, and now it’s all flooding back.

“2020 helped me find myself. I learned that life wasn’t always going to be sunshine and rainbows. I know this sounds cheesy, but I realized that whatever life hits you with doesn’t matter, it’s how you react to it that matters. Even though 2020 was a train wreck, the fact that I came out of it standing is what really matters.

There were bright sides even to 2020, the biggest one being my family. We invented board game nights, where we’d stay up late trying to beat each other. We talked to each other more, and got to form a lasting bond. 2020 gave us a new normal” I exhale, and a clap erupts from my grandkids. As I hug them tight, I remember my vow to myself: I’m going to make all these kids as happy as my parents made me. Ah, 2020.

Katy Zhen