The C.L.A.M 2022

Maya Palavali, 11

Ashley Kim, 12

Poetry

Blue

By Alexander Chaar, 11 Why is it me?

Drowned in my own fallen passion In a time which is not of fashion Embroidered with stark sonnets Hidden away from open eyes in a blue bonnet Will I always feel blue?

Why is it me?

I reminisce on what it is I once had Oh why am I so sad I am no longer composed You have left my heart exposed Will I always feel blue?

Why is it you?

You leave me without confirmation And never fully indulge in confrontation A name which has so much grace A name which is entirely you Why do you make me feel so blue?

Sacrifice

By Safia Fatima, 10 Why did you leave dad?

I was just keeping you safe.

I did not want to.

Ashley Kim, 12

Moon

By Maya Palavali, 11 the stars twinkle above me and there is a nice breeze as i sit with her. on nights i can’t seem to fall asleep — more frequent as the days go by—i can’t help but talk. and in that talking, i have found a new friend. because you see, the moon gets lonely all alone in the sky. and so she makes for a good companion. it’s a soft relationship the one her and i have. we talk about our loves to each other and you cannot imagine how beautiful these conversations are. because as she’s busy talking about her sun, i tell her about you. the moon knows your name. she knows about the way you part your hair and how our music taste’s the same and how you like to play fair. your sparkling eyes remind me of the brightest star and so i tell her and she cries because she knows you’re too far. the little circle in the sky is excited for the day when she can meet you up high; there, she can do as she may. but in your time on this earth i hope that you’ll see, i was able to give birth to the moon’s curiosity. because i can’t help it can’t help it at all because in the night, when my room is lit i tell the moon about my fall.

the moon and i we’ve been having a lot of talks lately. about the world and the sky, but mostly about you. she tells me everything i don’t want to hear and I don't listen. nevermind that she’s seen this heartbreak so many times before, with many lives before mine; i just can’t seem to let you go. and so she waits for me to come crying and waits to make the world feel like home. come, my friend. sit with me and be quiet. be quiet as we look up at the sky the stars twinkling the moon shining and let us stare. no other conversation because more often than we think, the silences are more important than any words we can say. and so we converse through looking at the same sky; two beings connected by the quiet.

Emily Chang, 11

Arjun Jayakumar, 11

Beauty

By Onyx Gondipalli, 10 How dare you say You are anything but beautiful When you do not see The things that make you so The smile you wear As you look at them The way your eyes light up As you ramble on about the things you love Your loud laughter That leaves you in tears The warmth that Drew me towards you All that makes you, You

Annalise

By Alexander Chaar, 11 Flower Sprout, where about?

It’s unknown, I’m in doubt My garden lays in drought I plead my content but you still leave I scream and I shout, but manage to hear you heave I expel my love in an unordered list But you keep composed, your back never twists “Should you speak now or forever hold your peace?”

“Yes, my discontent for you will never cease” Why would you leave me Annalise?

Sarah Hill, 10

Mask

By Blesmi Biju, 10 She had a golden smile and could blind one’s eyes , Had a face of Aphrodite , Like droplets of water on a rainy afternoon.

Was ancient as time but pleasing as the sunset , Calm and collected like a flower , Everyone said.

That was her mask , A way to unravel her truth from the world.

Deep and dark her truth lay on her mind , Haunting her day and night.

As days went by, the more she worried , Like fairies in a hurry , One day her fate would be tested.

When she reached her safe zone , She removed it, placing in her hands , Was fed up with life.

Her deceased brother and mother , And long lost father came to mind; She was their hope and happiness.

She went to take a glimpse of her reflection On the greenish blue floor of the ocean, Reflecting the bright yellow of the sun , Walked toward it blindly , Letting the ocean receive her in Her loving arms , On the way to join her family , While the immense star sets.

Anirudh Vayalali, 11

Nishitha Akula, 11

Left Behind

By Onyx Gondipalli, 10 That night You left some things behind And I see them everywhere You’re the first person I want to talk to When I mess up I go to tell you And remember you’re gone Or see something and think That you would find it amusing Someone will say something that makes me remember And every room in my house reminds me of you I wish you had taken all of you when you left

Grow Up.

By Evalyn Garcia, 10

Sarang Goel, 10

I let go of dreams.

No longer a child now, Here’s reality.

Cafeteria

By Srinidhi Surabhi, 10 The waves crashing around unyielding and endless.

The voices of reunion’s joy The sounds of alien and familiar The difference between a fence and a unleashing Free, wild, unbreakable All the roars and cries of joy and despair An a unordered orchestra, an unformed song All a fierce cry

Music

By Joshua Koshy, 10 The ivory keys laid out before me: A monochromatic row of beauty and elegance.

Smooth as a row of perfect teeth As it sings the song of its player, A masterpiece yet to be revealed.

The steel strings spread across the fretboard; They entrance the eyes of their beholder.

Drawing people near to admire And grasp it’s majestic maple wood body.

The leather skin allures me, To hear it’s rhythm echoing in the silence.

The sound of it’s music, Staying vivid in my mind.

This is my music, my joy, my bliss.

An indispensable part of who I am.

A comforter in my time of distress.

And a means to express my joy.

Along it’s roads I have walked thus far, And will continue to traverse until my journey comes to an end.

Caelen Onggosanusi, 12

A Voice to Remember

By Risheeka Mitra, 12 Lost in the frigid winter wind, A resonant voice whispers in mourning, “Has loneliness ever felt so dominating That you lose yourself, your identity, to it?”

A wind spirit left all alone in the wind, Yet no one can ever see them flying Aimlessly… aimlessly…

A victim who has submitted to its own power.

Unfortunately, it can only make its presence known Through the dreary melancholy of its voice.

Yet even so, it continues to try and be seen By the ignorant, apathetic masses.

It had reached me today, A macabre melody in its mysterious voice.

I tried to make a friend of it and Offer it my loyalty and dedication.

However, it pushed me away, Hesitated to let me see it for myself, saying, “To let myself be seen in your eyes, I’d have to curse you.”

Even if it was a curse that would kill me, I wanted to make this spirit less lonely.

I offered myself up as a sacrifice To let the spirit be seen for once.

The world grew colder, a blizzard raging inside, Yet rather than agony, I felt relief.

Such was the dreary life of a mortal such as I, But I was content with it ending like this.

I succumbed, of course I would To something as fatal as a curse, But it’s okay.

The wind spirit will no longer feel lonely.

It can finally be seen and loved for the rest of time.

Every Night

By Evalyn Garcia, 10 Do I cross your mind?

It’s because you stay on mine, Almost every night.

Memory

By Moena V, 10 I remembered a dream I had.

I was in my soul, I was in my head, and I was in my heart.

I was searching for a map because I was broken and I was cracked.

At last I saw a lamp with your name spelt out bright, Starting with a Z and ending with a B. You were my guide when my body was in need.

I stumbled in a hall filled with frames all big and small.

Covered in colors all black, purple, and red.

Frames of glitter and gold, cracks and scratches.

I looked in every frame made for all the people I have loved in my life.

Yet the hallway was full. There was only one person I saw.

You. You filled the frames of crying and playing and laughing.

You filled the frames when I wanted help and when I wanted to be free.

The hallway showed me the person that made me happiest is gone.

That person was you.

The person that made the happiest me.

Tommy Ku, 12

Memories

By Onyx Gondipalli, 10 I savor this moment And burn your image into my head So if there comes a day When you're no longer around I will see you every time I close my eyes

Fahrenheit

By Arman Juma, 10 We took to the sticks A single match And with that flame Set the wood alight.

All around the fire That burned so bright We could finally sit down And enjoy our stay tonight.

We all leaned back Told stories, jokes and laughed with delight.

This was a beacon of hope In a dark, dead life.

In spite of all that had happened And all that hadn’t yet, We still sat together in our small camping site, by the bright, bright light Of one hundred million degrees Fahrenheit.

Evalyn Garcia, 10

Trees

By Alexander Chaar, 11 Nobody knows where I stay Hidden among the trees I play Among the trees I sway My face comes close to yours, but you say— “No, not today” I accept and steer away Back to a home where I convey— The message that you were not able to relay

Tommy Ku, 12

Am I just a color to you?

By Maya Hanebuth, 11 Light.

Luminous in stature you stand in my way, Large leaves draped over me as if reaching for a hug.

I find you annoyingly bright, You linger around like a weed you can’t eradicate.

You are not traditional for elegant parties, Because you are bright and too forward.

You could stop traffic if you wanted, Blind bystanders with your vibrancy.

Dark.

I know you can love, Because you flow deep though forests across the world.

A color both gloomy and classy, You can almost ignore the cold stare you give.

“Color me in jealousy, And paint me envious for I am bitter”.

Your words sharp as needles on pine trees, And monsters use your aura to invoke fear.

Green You’re not just a color, But a feeling you get when you’re sick.

A feeling of personal growth, And prosperity.

I find you everywhere I go, rebirth and renewal.

A cycle repeated over and over.

I reach out to fall into your embrace.

Taylor Quilens, 10

Jessica Xu, 10

Ineffable "Cage of the Mind"

By Anushrutha Boyapati, 12 Surrounded by thin, sharp metal wires, caging her within its grasp, barbed points edge closer a timid fire, maiming her toward the swords cast.

Yet the sharpest one of them all is the one within her hand's grasp, taunting to break her apart, driving her to insanity's border.

She screams and screams, echoing to nothing but silence's grasp, begging for light's hand to break her free, to unlock her cage with a key.

As words and thoughts from all around, as Love she prays for brings out her cries and pushes against her, numbed to the sounds, all she can do is fight with Might, until Might itself abandons her.

Alexandra Bowden, 12

Snow Sight

By Blesmi Biju, 10 White little droplets of hope shattered across the field, Dancing to the beat of the morning breeze.

Glazing and reflecting the ever so icy light in the sky, Settling on the far west of the horizon, Looking up above, examining the clouds for the source.

Sticking my tongue out catching one, Unique and alluring, like a blanket put over until spring.

The choir of the migrating birds came in place, Fearing the food shortage and on the way to the safe south.

As the continuing pleasure of the freezing cold took over me, Wet, cold and icy blue raindrop, which melted in my hand.

Returning home, I still remember the majestic crystals, Concealing all my blemishes.

Authority Keomalithong, 12

Snow

By Srinidhi Surabhi, 10 Hundreds, thousands, millions, billions of shards of icy water Blowing through the trees and roads Tumbling and spinning over and over again Trees bowing under the breath of the winter dragon The dragon’s jealous rage causes her to rear her head And unleash her power

Sleep?

By Maya Palavali, 11 let me sleep please let me rest my eyes and leave this plane of existence for a little longer i ask the trees around me. they sway, though it could just be the wind. wake me up in five minutes and with that, i nod off.

i wake up to new saplings in the ground and they shake with anticipation. you slept for too long they tell me. my hair is covered in fungus and moss and my bones creak more than before. i try to get up, but my body won’t let me. they’ve forgot you, huh? the trees giggle. and with that i sigh; what a beautiful way to be forgotten. and so i sleep for an eternity more.

Abigail Jared, 11

Porcelain Doll

By Maya Hanebuth, 11 Mirrors were reflections of a person I’d once known; She stared hopelessly back at me.

Feelings of self-punishment and wanting to be loved; I lived in a dark place that engulfed me like the fiery flames of hell.

Sadness, Little self-worth, What is home?

Soulless I lived, With little who cared if I broke.

I can be glued back together, But I may not be the same.

Lonely, Fading, Would I wonder forever?

I was told I looked like a porcelain doll, I liked that very much.

Exotic, erotic, beautifully made, Words that would haunt me into the night.

Content, A beginning, Was this the right path?

Put to fire my heart was, slowly thawing away my ice prison, But ignorance lingered in the light.

What was once a warm feeling turned into terror; Fear ran cold down my spine.

Taken, Groomed, Was I being helped?

Maybe I’m worth some money.

My tag, my label, my origin gives me worth.

Others may be more valuable, prettier, Because I am not unique.

Terrified, Empty, Should I just accept my fate?

My heart whispers out through the darkness, Chains that held me tight divulged no marks on my wrists.

Freedom held over my head, far from reach, I was strangled in the twilight.

Sadness, Little self-worth, Is this better than being dead?

Michelle Jiang, 11

Tanvi Rudrangi, 10

Rock

By Maya Palavali, 11 All you left me was a rock.

I don’t know where you found the Audacity or The pure stupidity to gift me A stone After all you did to me. I won’t let Anyone tell me any bs explanation; I will not listen to how a rock represents foundation Strength An anchor in this sea of a world.

No. it might have worked on me a couple months ago But I know better.

There you are…

Well, more like there you aren’t.

How can you leave me a gray Lifeless lump And then go away? Is it some sort of twisted metaphor?

Did you intend on placing the rock On my desk as a warning For what was to come? Mom and dad tell me to forgive you.

And i can’t tell them no. in their eyes is enough Pain to last lifetimes. So I tell them, Soothe them with white lies just as you once did.

Goddamn it. It’s you who left, but it’s me Who will have to deal with the consequences.

I get it. I really do get it, okay? I Was the one that was supposed to leave.

Ugly green wraps around me Whenever i think about you getting to Meet death before me. You were supposed to Stay and live the path you were on.

You had so much, I gave you much.

I gave you my time and effort and Everything I had in me. From little Things I would find throughout the day To the limited smiles i had, I saved it all for you.

I used all of myself on you.

And now you’re gone. Was i, Am i, Not good enough for anything but a Damn rock?

There will never be a time where I will not think of you.

I hate you. I miss you. I envy you.

I love you.

Matt Bowden, Staff

For the Dancing and the Dreaming

By Kai Miller, 12 When we learned to sing and dance Some one-and-a-half million years ago We never really knew Just how corrupt it could become When it all began It wasn’t about how “good” One could be There were no rules Joy was expressed as it should be Raw and free and unbound By the restrictions and standards It was pure connection to others Now you can only share Your song with others If you’re good Enough Now you can only share Your movement with the world If you’re good Enough Did you know Smiling isn’t a learnt trait?

People naturally smile When they feel joy And yet we hate it Our smiles, our laughs We find fault in our joy Because we are taught to Why hate something That is such a Pure, raw, human expression Of joy and happiness and light

You should not only Express your joy When people feel It can be profited from Joy is joy So dance Sing Smile Laugh Because expressions of happiness Are what bring light to this life

Ashna Boddu, 10

A Wandering Heart

By Grace Hennessy, 11 Her heart never lived in her own chest, It flew around, place to place, person to person.

Some kept it on a leash, tugging, choking her.

Some had an unlocked door, “Come and go as you please.”

No matter her destination, She loved, with her entire being.

Every bit of her fragile heart body, Even when it made her crack.

Band-aids and stitches littered her rose red skin, Bruises etched around every curve.

She had been through enough.

How can such a teensy thing carry so much pain?

She continued to give herself away.

She beat for another’s love, never for herself.

She kept going just to feel wanted, Needed, Useful.

Break, repeat, break repeat.

Soon enough her doctor said, ‘Too much stress my darling. I’ve seen hearts break, and never be repaired.

How many times have I patched you up?’

Too many. But what is a heart needed for, besides love?!

Her purpose would be gone!

‘Love is supposed to be stressful, isn’t it?’ She asked.

He shook his head.

‘Love is bliss, but only true love.’

Perplexed.

Had she.. ever felt love?

Bliss?

‘I have an easy fix’ the doctor chimed, ‘There is someone you haven’t tried to love.’

She stared. Who? ‘Yourself.’

An EASY fix?

Priceless.

But she had to try.

For once, she remained in her own chest.

She hung up paintings, and posters.

She made her bed, and picked up the floor.

And slowly, scars began to fade.

She learned how to heal, To be alone, To love.

An easy fix was not far off.

Eventually, she invited someone to stay, He admired the scars along her walls.

The decorations, and the stories that came with them.

The company was nice, but it wasn’t needed.

She could survive now.

She didn’t feel lost without another.

A roommate, A wanderer could be nice, But permanence? She could find in herself.

Kai Miller, 12

The Misfortunes of Love

By Manasvi Chillamcherla, 10 Staring into each other’s eyes, Eyes full of emotion Love, longing, lust and something else I can’t figure out.

Entangled in each others embrace, My World.

Telling him, “I love you”, yet nothing out of him Yet that should have been a red flag, A sign, I should have understood.

The real malice behind those eyes.

The misinterpreted look of love that wasn’t, But really was intense, Hate, resentment, hostility, loathing, distaste.

All savored moments by me Was pain and torture for him Days turning into months Eventually becoming a whole year 365 days of fake happiness All coming down to the one moment of the end.

He told me to wear my most beautiful dress, He payed for me to have my hair and nails done, He bought me shoes and accessories, He told me he had a surprise for me.

I thought we would be together forever and this would tie the knot.

A gorgeous candlelit dinner, candles, lots of candles everywhere String lights, flower petals my favorite food, wine and lots of red Lots and lots of red We sat, we talked, we laughed I was happy Yet I guess, all good things come to an end Even fake happiness Red Pain Tears That’s when it happened The moment I thought, I couldn’t be happier than ever Red, blood, everywhere Mine Why why why Why has it come to this, to this pathetic ending A dagger through the heart, the sound of shattering Tears streaming down my now red face My emotions not being able to stay in, having to be let out

Red, tear filled eyes, now wide He wants me dead, he doesn’t love me, he never did That’s the honest truth He just wants to hurt me And he has got his wish, To hurt me And the lights start to go out Red But this time rage Who is he to think he can do this To put me through so much pain The suffocating feeling, I can’t tell if its from the betrayal or the dagger Then I understand Hate, distaste, resentment, hostility, loathing He’s doesn’t love me and never did So I decided for the pain he has inflicted on me And bringing my life to the end I will take him with me Pulling the dagger out of my chest, I stab the kneeling man on the neck His eyes going wide, a tear sliding down his cheek As the beautiful crimson blood drips down his neck With the last bit of my life I pick up a candle And tell him, looking him straight in his eyes I set the world on fire as he did to me This sad excuse of a world My sad excuse of a world Crumbles and dies

Sofie Levenson, 11

?

Rose Park, 12

Brain Mothers

By Mira Jiang, 12 Dura mater, the durable mother, dusky yellow tough as bone, a layer that resists the scalpel’s slice and encases delicate soul inside.

It’s a mother’s arms that guard against winds battering her cracked stone walls, with ivy torn by forces that stun and would reduce us to dust scattering whisper-gold in the setting sun.

She is my fiercest protector, my port in the storm, a reed that will snap before she bends if it means I will grow in her stead.

I know she will shelter me as long as she is able to.

Arachnoid mater, the spider mother, cobwebbed maroon crossing transparent film, draining fluid that cushions but in excess might drown me in the weight of dreams that shine too bold.

It’s a mother that tempers our wildest natures, placid as a mirror lake, with willow trees swaying in the gentle breeze.

Dawn dances on her waters, iridescent drops adorning gilded lotus nestled amidst the lily pads.

Once, I couldn’t wait to spill past her banks and carve my own path through the rough-hewn rock.

But as I rush forth, she’s splitting streams, linking tributaries that flow to me, so if I falter I can return along brooks and gullies she’s carved through stone.

Like spider threads converging, all her rivers lead to home.

Pia mater, the tender mother, thinner than paper, awash with blood vessels carrying life to mind.

It’s a mother’s heart that nurtures and shapes, pressing stars to strength, moonlight to memories within my marrow, building me with tales of the night’s silver gleam on lands and people I have never seen.

And when I shatter, she’s there to pick up the pieces, hands them back to me so I can put myself together the way she once forged with a love so fierce it burned fire in bone.

She holds me closer than membrane to gyri, in warmth as eternal as the endless mind.

Caleb Park, 10

Hey, Is Everything Okay?

By Risheeka Mitra, 12 “Hey, is everything okay?”

Well, I’m glad you asked!

Bright as day, tranquil as night, Today was a blast!

Everything’s going well at home!

“Hey, is everything okay?”

It sure is dandy!

I guess all this time alone Has come in handy!

Now, I think I can face the world again.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

Hm… you can say that.

It doesn’t seem scary out here, And no one’s acting like scat!

It’s supposed to be like this, right?

“Hey, is everything okay?”

Well, I’m a little miffed.

Almost immediately after the first day, My interests have slowly gone adrift.

It’s hard to focus and stay calm as of late.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

I’m getting there.

Just a horrible blunder somewhere, But nothing is entirely fair.

They won’t figure out my errors, I’ll be sure of it.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

The slope has gotten steeper.

The experience has gotten quite arduous, But I will not become a weeper.

No one wants unnecessary emotions.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

I’m just barely holding on.

My terminator grip will not fail me, And I will not fall and be gone.

I can’t do that to everyone else.

“Hey, is everything—?”

No. No. Stop asking that same cursed question, Nothing is okay.

Scrap that damn rhyme scheme structure And all that flowery folly, I can’t and won’t conform to those standards.

They all know my blunders.

I failed their expectations.

I can’t escape hardship, Nothing will allow that.

It’s exhausting.

I can’t focus.

I want to scream and sob And tear my vocal chords apart.

I don’t know why I can’t bring myself to do better.

I don’t know why it’s so hard To even begin fixing every single damned thing That’s wrong with my life, My own sorry journey.

There’s no point in trying When nothing’s going to change, I’ll still fail all the same.

My only savior is my imagination, Far away from the cruel clutches of reality, But until I’m free, I’m a prisoner to disappointment, Expectations, And the awful stench of zero motivation To redeem myself, save myself.

It’s only the start, Yet everything’s going awry, And I’m only discouraged from doing better.

I’ve let go of my chances already.

So no, nothing’s okay.

Nothing was ever okay.

I’m not okay.

I was never okay.

Jiya Shah, 11 Jyoti Patel, 12

Lemon Tree

By Manasvi Chillamcherla, 10 Under the lemon tree I watch as you play in the sand box You walk over And ask me to play with you Under the lemon tree We drink Apple Juice And eat sandwiches packed by our moms Under the lemon tree We talk for hours on end Watch the sunset And watch shooting stars The lemon tree Sweet Beautiful Bright Under the lemon tree Only branches, leaves fallen Cold wind I sob Under the lemon tree I wish For you to come back And make me whole again The lemon tree Sour Broken Dead

Now

“Rose”

By Manasvi Chillamcherla, 10 10 ‘ding’, sat there at the chair, watching the door like every other day Yet today was different.

She walked in, Like a lifeline, giving me longer to live.

She was enough for me to take on the world.

9 Pitch black hair that looks red in the sunlight, Dark blue eyes that I couldn't stop looking at.

Her beautiful plump lips, a dark red A little silver hoop on her nose And a scar barely visible right below her eye.

She was intoxicating.

8 She walked over, Voice as smooth as velvet.

The rose Tattoo she wished for in her hand, drawn by me Snapping out of my tance,I got up and led her to the room. While I gave her the tattoo we talked She talked To. me.

The small giggles that slipped her lips, And the little upturn of her lips when we talked, Everything stopped moving.

7 Like a dream coming to an end, Our time together drew to an finish, On her way out she hands me a crumpled piece of paper.

Her name and number, It even had a small winky face next to them.

So I went home and texted her, till two in the morning.

6 Months Cat cafes, picnic at the park Baking competitions, stargazing Late night binge watching movies, and walks in the park Staying up late texting each other, and even sleeping over. Perfect, it was all perfect.

But it was too perfect of course, and was to come to an end.

5 Her giggles, The sparkle in her eyes, The slight upturn of her lips, Her smooth hands, when she creases my cheek, And gentle and smooth lips, when we kiss.

I don't want to lose it, no It can't end not, this soon.

4 The smell of a hospital, Chemicals and cleaning products, The vase of roses on my bedside, The beeping of the monitor, The nurses and doctors coming in and out, Pained expressions.

3 Endless spam of messages from her, I replied eventually, as much as it pained me.

I informed her of my situation, and she arrived in the next 30 minutes One look at me, And she fell to her knees Tears Streaming down her face The strongest person I knew, on her knees, crying.

That hurt more than anything Anything.

2 She came everyday, Sat next to me, and talked to me, as my time was drawing to an end. Her beautiful eyes and vibrant hair looked like a mess. A wilting rose An storm at ocean Full of pain and without life.

As I slipped away farther from mine.

Away from our world.

Away from this reality.

Away from her.

1 No No NO. It wasn't supposed to end like this, I was supposed to get my happily ever after I was going to bloom into a beautiful rose.

And live my life out to its fullest.

I don't was to go I want to stay I want to be with her forever Then again.

Some things are always out of our control, And I guess this is one of them.

And my time has come to an uneventful end.

0 Time has gone by, Days turning into months She's Gone.

Left me alone, all for myself Yet I still love her with every part of me. That it hurts to even live without her, But I have to let her go.

I have to set her free.

Setting the roses down on her grave, “Goodbye, my love” Like a rose petal, I am carried away by the wind Maybe next time We can be together forever

McKinley Whitfield, 10

—

Aaron Alex, 10

Evalyn Garcia, 10

organ failure

By Carleigh Fezzey, 10 my feelings swirl as if being rinsed down with minty water they're wrapping around me like a python hunting its prey these waves sting like salt in a wound the bitter taste filling my mouth there are many ways my brain chooses to torment me one being the silent but loud roar of anxiety ear splitting shrieks surround the room they create an eerie sense that creeps along your skin similar to a mosquito walking finding the perfect place to bite

Tommy Ku, 12

Little Ally

By Kaavya Chandrakantan, 10 A little girl was lost in the woods, Shivering in the cold, Nearly frozen, Until a little wolf saved her.

She named the wolf Snowball For his pale fur and his love of snow, And for his joy of hitting any animal that approached her.

She would smile and eat honey with bears, Braver than most, With her little sticky hands.

Played with raccoons, All the while, Wondering why they were wearing masks.

Her eyes would glow with excitement, Her heart, a beating red, Full of love.

She had been lost for many years, And loved the animals— They were her pack.

She would spend hours playing catch with the monkeys, Tossing the bananas, And watching them run across the trees.

So one day, She climbed up the branches, And swung from the highest tree, Until there was no longer a beanstalk tree.

She drank water with the animals, From the frozen blue lake, Watched the fishes swim by underneath With their colorful fins.

She giggled and put her hand in the water, Feeling the bitter cold against her skin.

She sprayed the water over her wolf and jumped in, Cooling herself.

A little girl, Forgotten in the mists of time.

Until she was remembered

Her name was Allison, She was told.

She had two parents and one brother, All set in stone.

She would go to school, Learn what she didn’t know, And have a future.

Little Ally went to school, And was asked to write A story about her friends.

So she wrote about the little wolf that saved her, With its warm fur and kind eyes, And the monkeys she had played with, All the while eating a honey sandwich.

Little Ally went to lunch And saw the faces of her friends And threw a fit, Right there.

She was told to be quiet, To be good and to not argue, But said that animals shouldn’t be hurt.

Her teacher replied, animals are meant to be eaten, To be killed to keep us alive.

But Ally didn’t believe her And believed in saving her friends.

Little Ally grew up, Though it’s hard to believe.

She forgot her friends, And ate them.

All the while forgetting who she was.

Oh, how you have forgotten, Ally.

A sorrowful life has passed, For you to forget your past, For this is the future.

Ally continued to forget And followed society.

Went to college and got a job, Got married and had two kids.

Till one day, Little Snowball returned.

Returned as alpha of his pack, And with children, Only not forgetting about his first sister.

Severely hurt, With a wound as big as a sword, Hurt by a gun, On the same place as Ally’s would begin.

Ally petted the wolf and began to remember, Remembered his smell, and her dear friends, Realized what she had become, Someone like everyone else.

Snowball looked into her eyes, And into her soul.

Made her remember how she loved him, How much she missed him.

Until she realized just how much time she lost.

Lost the time to grow up with him, For he was big now and a dad.

Her time was gone With her little Snowball.

A little girl, Always curious.

Till she forgot.

So she approached the forest, Once more, For the last time.

And closed her eyes, And said goodbye.

Picked up her dear wolf, Said goodbye to the raccoons and bears, Gave a banana to the monkeys, Who had raised her, And jumped into the lake.

The lake which had kept her alive for so long, Ended up being her killer, In the way she most craved.

In the sorrow she felt, With losing her dearest friend.

Charlotte Petersen, 10

Caelen Onggosanusi, 12

Caelen Onggosanusi, 12

Rapunzel

By Safia Fatima, 10 The sun rises over the blazing green trees, painting the horizon a riot of pink, orange and yellow.

The butterflies come dancing through her window.

The cool breeze accompanying them.

The same butterflies visit her everyday.

She knows every inch of them by now.

One is glistening blue with little black circles on each wing.

The circles have a unique composition on each wing.

The other one is a vibrant purple with splashes of soft red on her.

She lives isolated in a tower, her mother afraid the world might be too brutal to her.

She knows every secret of every brick residing with her.

She wishes to explore the world, see its wonders, admire its beauties and solve its mysteries.

But she cannot.

She is a beautiful young woman with bright gold, seventy feet long hair.

It shines when she sings.

She is gifted.

She is Rapunzel.

One day, she is sitting on her window spending time with Mother Nature.

Her actual mother is out shopping.

She notices a boy around her age come to a stop in front of the tower.

He was panting, hair all over his face, sweating as if he downed himself in it, looking for a place to hide.

He was running for his life.

Rapunzel panicking, unknown to interacting with a stranger, lets her hair down to facilitate the boy reach her window.

She was helping her escape from this life, climb the tower.

She wasn’t aware of that yet.

Olivia Ann Shibu, 10

7 days, 9 hours and 3 minutes

By Maya Palavali, 11 7 days, 9 hours and 3 minutes.

The end of the month.

February 21st blinks at me from the calendar app as I type in my event for the end. It seems like so much time, but it will have to be done in order for me to do what I have planned.

It’s become harder to get out of bed lately, this day being no different. It’s already almost 3 in the afternoon, yet I’m still bundled up in a useless cocoon. I can wait another day. After all, school starts tomorrow.

6 days.

Wake up Go to the bathroom.

Brush, spit out toothpaste.

Look into the mirror. Look, look, look.

Feel the weight of unshed tears Sniff away the snot.

Turn around, Put my clothes on.

No, not those. I look too Fat too wide too heavy too Sad, too dull, too much too little.

Decide on the same sweatshirt and pants, Paste on a smile Slink down the stairs.

Smile smile smile at parents, Smell mint from them.

Pick up food with shaky hands, Wait for them to turn away And stash it in my pockets.

Cough, excuse myself, Go to the bathroom and flush Without needing to.

Get in the car to go to school, Knowing it starts a while later.

Sit and watch the school come alive, Drinking it in.

Wear earbuds, drowning away Everything else.

Smile slips for just a second Until they come. Glue it back on, Don’t let the ends fall.

Bell rings, scatter to class.

Bored, so. So bored. So tired.

Nothing is happening, Just sitting and existing.

Bell buzzes, shuffle to the next period.

Same old, same old. Bell rings Time for lunch. Sit next to them Pushing food at them Hoping no one notices the way My stomach talks.

Bell, bell and last period of the day.

So slow, yet so fast?

Ring And I’m out of the school.

In the car, going home.

Collapse on bed, missing its touch.

Fall into sleep, peaceful sleep Wake up, Go downstairs.

Sit for dinner, Shower, Change and brush and Smile in the mirror.

Erase what I can. And then Go to sleep.

5 days. Repeat.

This time, In between this day and the next, It’s different.

Sit in bed, past a reasonable hour.

Letting my tears fall.

Writing with shaking hands, Filling the notebook I chose.

Each word brings back a memory, Cementing my decision.

It’s not sad, though.

Melancholy wafts in the air, But it is the most peace I’ve had in So long.

4 days. Repeat.

Looking at everything around me With rose tinted lenses.

Who knew the shape of their face Could move me to tears?

More things are becoming so, so gray, Despite the glasses I wear.

I become blue against the monochrome world.

3 days.

I hand out My luck key chain and My bracelets and my special stickers and everything I adore.

If I adore them, I am sure they will too.

My smile becomes as real as it can get When they light up At these presents.

It’s a little easier to mirror them When I give them a piece of me.

2 days.

I feel sick.

I don’t know if I will regret this, But that’s not what I should focus on now.

Instead, I hold everyone A little closer, Whisper my sentiments in their ears, Hoping they’ll understand Soon enough.

My eyes fill with So many emotions That I have to blink away And twist into happiness.

1 day.

I ask for the day off, From everything.

Say that I feel woozy, Lying down in bed.

Feeling the salt stream down my face Yet it is not reaching my heart.

I have said my goodbyes and I hope that is enough.

1 hour.

My father and I, We say good night to the moon And the stars and everything underneath.

So, Goodbye beautiful people Goodbye to the grass and the trees and the animals and the smiles and the frowns and to you and me.

I’ll be able to say good night to the moon In person Really soon.

3 seconds.

Goodbye, melancholy

Maya Palavali, 11

Krisha Shah, 10

Sincerely, Golden Girl Carleigh Fezzey, 10 she’s the girl who gives gum to everyone she’s the girl who always has advice she’s the girl who ran with you when you almost gave up she’s the girl who cheered you on when no one else did

she’s the girl who was in your fighting corner she’s the girl who will cry with you anytime. she’s the girl who holds back kindness to no one she’s the girl makes amends she’s the girl who speaks her mind she’s the girl who has no time for bs she’s the girl who will hold your hand she’s the girl who can smile on command

National Art Honor Society

but like a candle, at some point she must burnout.

don’t bury me under a tombstone

By Mira Jiang, 12 i’ve seen stone graves pockmark cemeteries, the beloved ringed in rotting flowers and plastic memories, the forgotten empty except for moss clinging to the cracks. cold-eyed cherubim stand guard over this land of bones. don’t reduce my life to a name and empty platitudes: beloved wife. wonderful daughter. dearest mother. i want much more to my legacy, so bury me beneath a sapling and let the roots wrap around my body like a wooden coffin to take nourishment from my skin, fashion my fingers into branches splayed over a rising moon, turn my hair to the leaf-bud filaments that reach toward the stars. let the tree grow as i decay, thickening trunk splitting bark that hardens against the harsh elements. let weary travelers take shelter under my shade and neighbors pluck jewel-bright fruit from my branches, fingers turned sticky from sweetness. let a family string me with lights on the holidays and tie tire swings to my limbs for the children to play on. let me stand guard over the life that continues after i am gone.

Sarah Hill, 10

Tommy Ku, 12

Sarah Hill, 10

Holy Explanation

By Grace Hennessy, 11 The rundown road to church rattled and hummed, Like God was speaking through the cracked asphalt.

It might have been the van’s beat up tires, Or taxes idle in the pockets of Coppell.

But God, it seemed, was a more clever answer, A holy explanation.

There wasn’t a holy explanation for that phone call.

For the tears in my mother’s eyes as we sped down that broken church road.

Not for the burning in my throat as I sang and kneeled to God. Not for my dad, surrounded by family, yet all alone.

Not as he called and broke the horrid news.

Not for the lifeless body that laid in an old Chicago home.

God spoke to Moses, and Paul.

He built the entire universe out of nothing.

He raised his son from the dead, and left the rest in darkness.

Uncertainty.

Prayers not heard.

Almighty, all-knowing powerful god.

Unanswered pleas from a 9-year-old girl.

The name above all names.

Pleas to make daddy happy again.

Worthy of our praise.

Pleas to take his morphed and made up face from her mind Lord, I need you.

Pleas to stop mother’s tears before she ran out of them.

They say, “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.”

Psalms 147:3.

But my dad went to work, shards of his heart plunging out of his chest.

He ate dinner, blood pouring from his mouth.

My mom was tattooed with sorrow.

No smiles, no life, nothingness.

Abandoned without holy explanation.

All Tangled About

By Monea V, 10 it feels like sunshine hitting your face, warming up your skin, shining blindly in your eyes. you feel good for the first time in a long time. when your laid bare on who seemed perfect for you. ego and trust issues transforming under the light like a quick light switch. or maybe the process was slower like autumn, slowly showing in the leaves and weather every year, we, too blind to tell. ruined by little white lies that hit you so hard you’d scratch and pulled your scalp and skin red. eclipses of the good times so you never want to leave.

No one ever talks about the amount of clear salty tears that slowly trickle from your eyes and tickle your face to your chin. crying over no labels. crying over heartbreak and confusion. the honey brown drops that wink you hello every morning. their eyes don’t look the same. the way they could soothe you by saying the right thing, now a grinding noise in the back of your head; a buzzing. can it stop? their voice doesn’t sound the same. they’ve been soft since the day you met them, but that doesn’t seem to be true their touch doesn’t feel the same. brought into each other and yanked back out. we’re both burnt out. always a silent oath, the way of an entanglement.

anymore.

Jiya Shah, 11

Elena Hewitt, 12

The Ferry Ride

By Risheeka Mitra, 12 Back and forth… back and forth…

The frigid waters assault the ferry.

Back and forth… back and forth…

Inside is safe, outside is scary.

Back and forth… back and forth…

The clouds darken, a storm is looming.

Back and forth… back and forth…

A flash of lighting, thunder comes booming.

Back and forth… back and forth…

The ferry keeps rocking, the water keeps splashing.

Back and forth… back and forth…

People are swaying, items come crashing.

Back and forth… back and forth…

When will this ferry ride end?

Back and forth… back and forth…

Not soon, that I contend.

Back and forth… back and forth…

We only have fifteen minutes to go.

Back and forth… back and forth…

It felt like hours… boy, is time slow.

Back and forth… back and forth…

I think someone just hurled nearby.

Back and forth… back and forth…

Oh, I pray the ride doesn’t go awry…

Back… and forth…?

Wait, we have arrived!

At long last, the ferry has halted, Everyone’s here, we all survived!

Cold, frigid, everything about Canada BC Greeted all of us rather cordially.

Yes, this was our hard-earned reward For conquering the ferry ride valiantly.

Purple

By Srinidhi Surabhi, 10 Purple The color of royalty Capes of kings Gowns of women Trailing behind as they walked regally Shoulders back Head high Purple The color of lavender roses Often a sign of love at first sight One of the rarest colors Of a rose The petals so silky soft The petals so gentle and delicate Blooming wide and fearless in their prime Purple The color of combination Red and blue So bold yet beautiful So pale but enchanting So wonderfully purple

Alexis Sibanda, 11

Caelen Onggosanusi, 12

Tommy Ku, 12 Matt Bowden, Staff

Death’s Bride

By Mira Jiang, 12 I first kissed Death on a water slide. My sister met him when she was a heartbeat, leaden shape in our memories where a child might have grown. His specter hangs over dinner tables set by ghosts, hands ruffling sheets of hospital beds and plucking souls like popcorn from scenes awash with red.

I was never afraid of him though, never when I was young.

I stood outside in pouring rain with skies flashing white and beasts rumbling in the clouds, jumped from the tallest trees to land flat on my back in the wood chips, dodged cars in neighborhood streets, close enough to scratch the metal fenders as the wheels screeched by. I was most alive when I walked by his side.

He is the only one who will never leave me, a life-long flirtation, my final husband: this bane of kings, the last refuge of scoundrels.

I will meet him when I am tired and worn.

Let him come to me in a star-studded palanquin and close my eyes to the velvet night.

Black

By Evalyn Garcia, 10 The color of emptiness The kind of feeling when you hear death.

A soft dark of nothing that modifies me.

The color of negativity.

A color that defines hopelessness.

It’s the color that pushes you to the floor and keeps you there.

The kinda color that cries with you when you're sad.

A color that was made less important.

Made to be nothing.

The color of a moonless sky, And when you close your eyes.

The color of my dreams.

The hue in the hair of the one I love.

A color you get by every color mixed together.

The monotone the world turns when people you love leave.

It is the color of that little piece of evil in hope.

It defines hate and dishonesty.

Color of nightmares, The color of a figure that haunts me.

Maybe not all bad but mostly used for it.

A color some people wished never existed Because it is the meaning of Loneliness, Sadness And Depression.

The color that ruins everything…

The color of a soul that no longer lives, This world is an endless color of black, And we have to deal with it.

Gabrielle Tian, 12

Rose Park, 12

Hook

By Srinidhi Surabhi, 10 I glide through the water A temple of light and sea The colorful coral beneath me Red and more Colors bright and dull Both beautiful See the kelp waving to you and all No one feels lonely There is plenty to go around Lots of fish and plants Bunch around the coral Sun is coming through the water Shining and glowing Bouncing off my scales Green and purple reflections A hundred silver fish circling around The light reflects off of them It’s colorful and wild It’s peaceful and loud This is all connected But there is more See the blood gushing from a shark’s victim See the baby seahorses bursting out of their father See them being eaten If they do not have the good sense to leave See the bug I am swimming for The one below bobbling white thing See me biting down it See me being yanked up See me thrashing around See me dying

Charlotte Petersen, 10

Caelen Onggosanusi, 12

How I change.

Evalyn Garcia, 10 When I was younger I feared the rain.

The sounds of harsh wind, That reminded me of screams Which made it hard to sleep.

When thunder clouds started to gather together, I felt as if my heart was empty.

Now I stay up late at night.

1am to 5, When the world becomes quiet And the rain belongs to only me.

I listen to the rain outside, It cried with me.

And the thunder Blocked my screams.

Capsized

By Arman Juma, 10 I see my life flash before my eyes.

Up from my birth, till the day I die.

I’ll clutch this plank with all my might, fingers hurting; My knuckles turning white.

The waves splash high and I lose my sight, squeeze my grip and let out a cry.

I pray to God to hold me tight.

I’m not yet ready to say goodbye.

The waves crash by, and it becomes the night.

My mind itself becomes cross-eyed.

The pool of salt glows oh, so bright.

It enters my mouth, all the more dry.

My throat burns and limbs begin to die.

And it makes me wonder, if I should hold on any longer, or just capsize.

And in that moment, I decide, to let God have me at the end of my life.

You know, I never was baptized.

Dear Ms. universe

By Maya Palavali, 11 Dear Ms. universe, I swear, i don’t think i’m asking For much; Nothing, really.

It’s just that lately, i’ve been putting So much goddamn time Fixing what shouldn’t have been broken In the first place. You say You love me and want me to be happy, But how can i do that With the cards you’ve dealt me?

I know…

I have a great family Great friends great house; A comfortable life. But, It doesn’t feel like that Ms. universe. It doesn’t feel like that When i lie awake Under the winking stars Wishing to join you up above. It Doesn’t feel like that When i walk to school everyday, Heart slowly breaking, Because i can’t do what i want.

Being grateful is important, I know, and I thank you every single day That the people around me are Safe and healthy and Happy. But when is it my turn?

Why do i have to work so hard To get what you give to others. I have Been on this journey my whole life, But recently, I’ve started to feel the sacrifice.

Ms. universe, When is it my turn?

I ask of you to please help me, On this journey, So one day i can feel what they do. Please?

Until then, you don’t deserve a capital Letter in your name. With love, And a see you soon, Maya

Shriya Patnayakuni, 11

Caelen Onggosanusi, 12

Untitled

By Ryan Agarwal. 12 It wakens the beauty, and puts the beast to sleep.

No better start to a day than a scintillating sight, in which my eyes bless me with.

As I open the sliding door, creaky with age, and a struggle at times, I take gentle steps, bringing my somnolent self onto the backyard patio.

Thenright then and there, my eyes are instantly blessed.

A unique appearance it makes every time, making it just that much better.

As if the man above used a brush of his own, and pleasantly, but lightly, stroked the sky, with luminous colors and their endless shades.

The canal, scarcely outside of my fence, perfect and peaceful, still as a tomb, reflects the exact image I see above, with a shade of blue and ducks paddling as an addition.

The cities livelihood restoring in minutes, the cause witnessed in my own backyard.

Astonishing me every 24 hours, the sunrise can’t be undone.

Scarecrow

By Jade Freytag, 10 Are you lonely out there, sir?

I see you, every day as I pass by your solemn farm.

Do you wish you had more company?

Or is it better for you to be alone?

Maybe you’re dangerous or evil or scared, And you’ve been sentenced to a fate worse than death.

Your straw is probably itchy inside those Tattered clothes you were given.

Your hollow eyes have seen so little happen here, Yet you’ve seen more than anyone should.

Why were you chosen to guard his crops?

Was it to make his life easier and his crops more abundant, Or was it to know his control over your own life?

I never would’ve done this to you, sir Scarecrow.

Your straw would no longer be itchy Nor your clothes tattered or your eyes hollow.

You’d finally feel safe, you’d finally be loved.

Isn’t that what you'd want, Sir Scarecrow?

Scream in Silence

By Anushrutha Boyapati, 12 Even as the loud voices bash your head, whisper sweet nothings in your ears, flood darkness within your eyes, block the sweet perfume of happiness from your nose, force the salty fear to your taste, all you can do is scream in silence.

Tommy Ku, 12

Arissa Fricano, 10 Joshua Baker, 12

Untitled

By Ryan Agarwal, 12 A little girl she was, finding her way, trying to fit in and forget child’s play.

Succumbing to the teen pressure, fitting in was the golden treasure.

Booze and devil’s lettuce had never been introduced, To the virgin her parents had produced.

However, she felt left out from others, risking it all for the acceptance was her druther.

An opportunity had sprung alive, a party in which she could connive.

Her head occupying itself with thoughts and doubts, but eventually convincing herself it will all work out.

Enjoying the time of the illicit junction, the devil’s antidotes slowly disallows miss to function.

Things are getting blurry and hostility peeks around the corner, to herself and body her soul feels like a foreigner.

A feeling so unknown to her, but a feeling that was wanted to occur.

Red, white, blue gleaming lights brighten the streets, While she watches her peers straighten up and fleet.

The thought of running, she couldn’t bear, but rather, the glimmering lights she stares.

The people in blue, surround the foundation, Drugs and alcohol luring the altercation.

Coming around to the girl, swooned on the sofa, caught by the cavalry, unconscious in her own little coma.

Oh how trying to assimilate was the only goal, the idea of belonging would irritate the soul.

But at what cost is the end of the rainbow worthy of, Not more than your own self love.

Abigail Jared, 11

Much Love, Maya & the Reaper

By Maya Palavali, 11 What the hell is happening?

One second I’m in my body the next I’m neither in or out.

My eyes are having trouble focusing and everything is muted.

Think, think, think…

What was happening before this?

I look up and s***.

I remember.

Me and who’s that girl?

That girl who stabbed me in the back.

Her and I are connected in some way.

I have no idea why or how, but she is all I can see in this haze.

Confusion is clouding my judgement and as I’m trying to figure out what’s going on, I can only stare at her back, just. Standing there.

Wait. wait wait wait-I see something else--some black figure? What the Hell-Oh my god.

That scythe, the black hood, That’s the Grim Reaper!

And he’s hovering over her?

What the actual--okay it’s not the time to curse but it sure is the time to do something, right?

Hey! Mr. Grim Reaper! Why the Hell are you here?

Wow, my voice actually works?

Okay Maya, stay on topic.

He looks up and his eye sockets are alive but not? Whatever they are, they’re staring back at me somehow conveying shock.

You can see me?

Why is he asking me in that tone?

Yeah dude, of course I can see you I wince at how informally I’m talking to him, he can literally kill me at any moment.

You’re not supposed to be here…

Yeah, no kidding Mr. Obvious-wait--I can hear him, but not from my ears?

Where the hell am I? Um, sir, I don’t really know why I’m here either…

He looks up to the sky and makes some..

weird sounds come from his throat (does he have vocal cords?)

He turns to me and he now has a glow?

Um.. bro, where am I? Damn it, Maya, stop being like this-he interrupts.

You don’t have to be formal with me He can hear my thoughts?

Yes, I can hear you. I’ve been able to for quite the while, though I didn’t know who it was until now…

Oh s***, has he heard everything-Yes. I have. That’s not the point. oh my god--Stop thinking for now. Just listen Okay…

For a long time, you and I have been connected.

I’m not sure as to how to happened, but you’ve been connected for a reason.

Your heart.. Is different from what I’ve seen.

Oh why thank you--Stop talking for ONE minute, okay? Anyway, a couple of years ago, your subconscious has come into my Realm and it’s been there. Doing nothing. And don’t get me wrong, you’re supposed to be somewhere, but you shouldn’t have been there; until now.

Uh.. what does that even mean?

This girl, she’s supposed to die right now.

Ice courses through my veins and my face gets hot.

I imagined that would be your reaction; she doesn’t HAVE to die now.

Damn dude, you scared me there--BUT, someone does. and you’re allowed to choose who.

Bruh. What the actual . . .

I know. This rarely happens, but you’ve been chosen. Anyone you know, can drop dead in the drop of a hat He makes a little hat out of a cloud and squishes it.

Normally that would have been cute, but what. The. Hell.

Who would I even choose dude?

That’s why you’re here.

I can’t choose who. I never have been. you have the ability to rewrite fate.

Who will it be?

You.. you.. You.. chants in my mind, And it’s the only choice I can possibly do.

The mean “friend” you have? Your math teacher? Your neighbor?

This bonehead is listing people, and he can’t hear my head anymore?

I have to tell him.

Dude, I’ve done it.

Well, that certainly was quick.

Who’s the lucky person?

You can stop with the sarcasm.

Sorry…

It’s me-What the HELL? You could wipe off anyone on this godforsaken Earth, and you choose yourself?

Yep. Millenia of meeting people like you and this is the first time.

Are you sure?

I look back to her hazy back.

Even though I was hurt, I remember our good times.

You deserve to make more of those and I’m glad you’ll be able to.

Well?

You’re giving me the choice to do what I’ve wanted to do for a while.

To allow someone to be… happy.

Thank you.

Well, I guess it’s your funeral-sorry, wrong choice of words.

Come with me.

Some weird door opens from a cloud and he goes into it.

I look back at her.

Maybe in another life, can we be friends?

It’s okay if not.

Have a good one, I think as I step into the cloud.

Remember me.

Rebecca Greenberg, 11

Tommy Ku, 12 Untitled

By Tommy Ku, 12 All of eternity brims in chalice Not a single drop fell Like tears that never flowed Remaining always and only possible.

Ocean floods your iris Under light, eclipsed.

You live in a house burning in rain, Watching all still attached to their umbilical cord Yet to be severed from your domain Where every life was accorded.

Nothing has stopped, never will— Never slain, ever forever The first is yet to be forgotten, And even the last is lasting ~all abiding in fortalice.

Charlotte Petersen, 10

Untitled

By Srinidhi Surabhi, 10 Passing through the binding hold of the plastic blinds Yellow, bright and gleaming So bright, so visible Disturbing the loose hold of unconsciousness or Interrupting the descent into it Offering a way to see the world Blinding us or Providing for us Sometime to wait for Or wait out Feel the warmth on your skin Heating your hair and skin See it on the plants Giving them pieces To their own creation Helping transform from saplings To be big, green, and leafy To bloom To from fruit to flowers Some beautiful Some edible Providing us Providing the plants Providing energy Providing heat Providing life

Caelen Onggosanusi, 12

Jeffrey Wang, 11

Prose

Raining and Lightning

By Kaavya Chandrakantan, 10 The crackling of the mute whip, confining its victims with its bitter spit, manifesting them with their own agony.

The dispute above, the deception and dishonor, the exalted divine omnipotent wrecking their stature, inheriting slight resentment amidst themselves. But when the light sparkles a second time, a new journey begins.

Peppermint Toads

By Kaavya Chandrakantan, 10 An uncontrollable childhood bite, relics of the limitless twilight. Tart sweetness in the tongue. The sugarcane covered deep, rising through the break of dawn. The noble mutants, birthing their destiny. The inscription of the honeyed sweet.

How Things Change

By Kaavya Chandrakantan, 10 The silence of the forgotten night echoes around. The wind whisks the hair into curls, till the days become nights.

A question posed on the crimson lips, the words that seem unknown to the little tongue. My dear Snow, a mystery to the world.

Maturing is Realizing

By Evalyn Garcia, 10 I feel like maturing is realizing that your mother is only the way she is because of her past trauma, and problems.

Then she puts it on you, but no matter how many times she breaks your heart or hurts you with her words and actions…you always forgive her because you feel bad for her inner child.

Then again maturing is realizing that some mothers are just not meant to be a parent and they are the ones who need to grow up.

Tommy Ku, 12

The Raven Skald

By Mira Jiang, 12 Don’t be frightened of ravens, Freya. They’re Odin’s birds. Huginn and Muninn. Thought and Memory.

The greatest skald that ever lived sang with one perched upon her shoulder.

Yes, I know skalds are usually men, but this one was a princess. She was not beautiful—no, Freya, there’s no rule that says princesses have to be beautiful. She was strong though. She was kind. She wielded more power in a single word than your father ever did on the battlefield.

Her voice could calm a berserker from his blood-lust. Her stories saved her sister from marriage to a rival chieftain. Her songs touched the heart of an enemy thrall who risked life and limb to help her escape back home.

When she returned to her family’s side, her advice helped her father win the war.

I suppose she was lovely in a way. Don’t look so smug; I didn’t mean outer beauty. If you spoke to her, you would know. Her voice was quiet, but when she sang, entire rooms went silent just to listen. She could have talked Loki out of his craftiest schemes.

Fine then. If you’re so concerned with her appearance, I can tell you her prettiest feature. She had gorgeous auburn locks, and when she stood in the sun, I could have sworn they were touched by fire. I was a great beauty in my youth, but even I was jealous of her hair. Yes, I knew her once.

I loved her once.

She was like her raven. Always curious, always wandering, until one day her travels took her too far to return. But her name lives on in you, Freya. I hope her spirit does too.

Tommy Ku, 12

A Lover, Not a Child

By Maya Palavali, 11 Dear 2021, You have been the longest, yet shortest, year of my life. I’ll get straight to the point; I am ending our relationship. I would say it’s not you, but it really is. 2020 came with a fanfare, a big production of COVID and the activities that ensued. At least that year was one of new beginnings, new events. But you… you were the perfect combination of recycled new bad events. What is wrong with you? It was as if you were able to enter my mind and pick apart how to make it the worst time of my life. I mean, you took away my birthday with a snowstorm for God’s sake! How did you make a whole storm in the middle of Texas? Does global warming mean nothing to you? And, though it was coming on for a bit, you destroyed my mental health. I was made your puppet for so long that I began to feel lifeless. In my downward spiral, I lost so many aspects of myself; my motivation, my identity, my dignity left me when I needed it most. I know I can’t blame a year for everything that went wrong, but who else can I blame other than myself? In the span of 12 months, I lost more people than in any other year combined. I never expected to see the end of you, to be honest. I was so willing to break the shackles by any means necessary that I had to leave metaphorically before I left physically for good. I thought I would be able to heal from the wounds I got in 2020, but you cut deeper in already hurt places. I had just gotten out of a terrible relationship— you knew this. I told you, yet you begged me to give you a shot. You fed me empty promises of a new year, a better time. And so, I took it. I have to give you some credit; after all, I am still here. Through losing people because of your controlling nature, you allowed me to make other friends, albeit in a more secretive way. I learned how to survive you, how to prevail despite your weight on my shoulders— call me Atlas with my ability to take you on. You controlled me, sure, but you also let me have some good times. In the sea of bad, I was able to look to the droplets of good to keep me going. Because of you, I’ve become another person, and maybe that isn’t a bad thing. I’ve been starting to move on, and I have a new partner. Someone who reminds me of who you once were, who I expected you to be.

This time, though, I won’t make the same mistakes. I’m going to start straying from the well trodden path of toxicity. This new year will be used to get my life back on track. In all the places you took away, I will build new and better paths with my new love. I won’t let myself become who I was with you (well, try at least). You made me your mother, and this year I am letting you go. Love should never make me feel this terrible, this responsible. I hope that one day I can look back to you and relate to the lyrics of the song you were good to me. Maybe I’ll mature enough to understand why you did the things you did. But, until then, I will use my time to heal and say a big screw you to your grave. Just as you are not mine anymore, I am not yours. I need a lover, not a child.

Good bye and good riddance, Maya P.

Cancer Sticks

By Morgan Hurst, 10 Gray rain clouds rolled carelessly overhead, pushed by the chilled breeze that lovingly coerced the goosebumps from beneath his skin. It was the midst of a very gloomy autumn and the beginning of a mediocre Wednesday morning, and the central park was uncharacteristically empty.

Much like himself most days.

Ezra Silus listened carefully as the fallen leaves crunched beneath the weight of his Prada leather boots. It was a welcomed sound against the silence that rang in his head, and usually, home. At least when he wasn’t blaring music or the old man wasn’t yelling.

He had been walking for a while now. The empty penthouse had begun to close in on him, so he needed to escape. The old dude was at the office, and his dumbass lessons weren’t that important anyway.

Up ahead, he saw an empty park bench and wasted no time strolling to it with long strides and dropping on the wooden seat. He pulled out a cigarette from the pack he got from some dude on the street, but Ezra didn’t even get a chance to light it before a sweet-sounding voice had stopped him in his tracks.

“You know, those things are lung cancer wrapped in a stick. But I’m going to assume that it isn't the first time you’ve heard that before.”

Ezra looked in the direction of the voice, an elegant eyebrow cocked up in irritation. Ready to tell someone off, he was met with the sight of what would be one of the cutest boys he’s seen in a while.

Were his clothes not the most raggedy things he had ever seen.

He could physically feel his face scrunch up in disgust. At the sight. This kid must’ve been one of the lower-class folk he had sometimes caught sight of in the park. How one was okay with wearing such cheap clothes, he would never understand. Often he wondered why they never did anything to climb the ranks. If the boy noticed Ezra’s blatant disgust, he wisely said nothing.

Instead, he did something worse, audaciously sitting on the bench next to him. It took Ezra every bit of willpower for him to not recoil in response, out of his curtesy. Once again, the strange boy didn’t acknowledge his obvious distaste and introduced himself as if nothing at all was wrong.

Erza noted to himself that the boy didn’t bother to hold out his hand.

“My name is Ambrose; Ambrose Laurier, if you were curious about the full government,” he wasn’t, but decided to not voice that thought, “You don’t need to introduce yourself. I recognized you as soon as I looked your way.” The boy, Ambrose, huffed a breath of a laugh, crossing one leg over another and looking towards the still grey skies. “Just imagine my surprise when Ezra Lysander Silus, the infamous son of the most powerful man in New York, walking through Central Park, on a weekday. Like he was a normal person.”

Ezra raised a brow, giving Ambrose an exasperated look. Of course this guy knew who he was, being the one and only rebellious heir to one of the strongest corporations in North America. He’s been around the media damn near his entire life, despite his mom’s poor attempts to protect him. Also, did he have to use the full government? His middle name was embarrassing.

He never blamed his mom for his mental shit though. He never did.

Ezra clicked his tongue, attempting to go for the haughty attitude, “Well, I’m filthy rich and my father practically owns the whole damn city. It would be embarrassing to not know who I am.” He glanced sidelong at the boy, who seemed wholly unimpressed. His irritation flared, so he took it one step further, “Tell me, how does it feel to be filthily poor and have no value to your name? It’s not something I’d bother to imagine for myself.”

Ambrose seemed shocked by the cruel response. Or, perhaps it was the fact that Ezra had responded at all. Either way, he was quick to recollect himself and reply. Ezra became reasonably confused at the sadness that crept into the boy’s tone. Then his irritation only fared more.

Was he pitying him?

“I know that. Just because I’m lower class doesn’t mean I’m stupid, or invaluable. Not at all,” Ambrose turned his face away from the sky and locked his stare with Ezras, the latter of whom tried not to squirm away from under the unexpected intensity of his seafoam gaze.

His eyes, Ezra unwillingly noticed, look like they have flecks of gold.

“Ezra, I understand your childhood and mine were both very different, but that doesn’t make one of us better than the other. I know your piece-of-s*** father raised you to believe otherwise. But outside of that Penthouse and the office building, the world doesn’t work like that. And honestly, people only give a damn about your money. Not you.” He paused to take a breath before continuing his angry rant, “I don’t need ‘societal value’ to my name. That only means the public following me and my every move. And yes, I struggle for money, but that’s only because you upper-classed pricks hoard all of it and refuse to give any of it away for a genuinely good cause.”

Ambrose watched as a short-lasting expression of shock shadowed over his face but Ezra was quick with schooling his expression back into ice.

Ambrose pitied him.

They sat in tense silence for several long minutes. Ezra purposely ignored the stare burning into his cheek, instead focusing on the cigarette that had been hanging loosely between his fingers as thoughts thundered through his mind. He brought the cigarette to his lips and struck on the lighter sitting on his lap. Ambrose said nothing in objection, simply observing as Ezra took a very long drag and blew out a corresponding amount of fumes. It was another long minute before Ezra responded, sounding mellow.

Sounding sad.

“You sound a lot like my mom used to.”

Okay, well, he didn’t expect that, and he tilted his head as a signal for him to continue. Out of his peripheral, Ezra watched honey-colored curls caressing Ambrose’s temples. He decided not to question why his fingertips itched to reach out and pull one. Taking a deep breath, he continued, “My mother was born into the upper class, but she always had a compassion for other people that I’ve never seen anyone with, and she hated how money brought out only the worst in people. It annoyed my dad to no end how she would always babble about how the class division is only a barrier between people. She tried to teach me the same values, but I suppose my old man impacted my way of thinking a lot more than I thought. Especially after mom died.”

He huffed a laugh, allowing his eyes to flutter shut as he laid his head back against the back of the bench.

Much like Ambrose had minutes before. “I guess that’s what happens when you are raised by nannies half your fucking life and taught the ways of the world by Marco Silus.” Ezra laughed without humor, taking another drag from what remained of his cigarette. Ambrose sat still, thinking of how he should respond to such a confession.

Ezra waited. Finally, Ambrose replied, “It’s never too late to unlearn.”

Ezra only huffed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, but rather pondering. Perhaps it was possible to unlearn. This boy didn’t seem as bad as he had initially thought, and really, it would be the honorable thing to do in his mother’s memory. He didn’t realize just how much he missed her until now.

Ezra sighed, sitting up and rolling the tension and grief from his shoulders. Then it hit him. Unlearning his father’s teaching would defy him, and as a result…

It would piss off the old bastard to no end.

Ezra whirled to face the boy beside him, a wicked grin plastered on his face and mirth dancing in his gaze.

“Ambrose Laurier, you are a damn genius.”

Said genius only stared at him like he and sprouted a second head and started singing Christmas carols. It took Ambrose a long minute to shake off his stupor and return Ezra’s grin, which had never left his face.

They fell back into silence, one that was much more comfortable than the previous. The sun peeked out from behind the curtain of the rain cloud, and Erza not-so-subtly observed the way it struck Ambrose’s face.

At least until the honey boy stood, and began to walk away. However, that was not before he looked at Ezra over his shoulder and called, “You really shouldn’t smoke those cancer sticks so young.”’ And then he was gone.

Ezra never smoked another cigarette again.

Sarah Madureira, 10

Krisha Shah, 10

River of Stars

By Mira Jiang, 12 Sizi wiped the sweat from her brow. The day’s heat baked cracks in the path, turning her shoulders flush with sunburn. Ji plodded beside her, flicking up dust with his hooves. It was their third day on the road since Sizi had left her brother’s house. Though she had taken nothing but her ox and a waterskin, she felt happier than she had in years.

A breeze ruffled her clothes, stirring up strands of black hair that had fallen loose from her braid. The scent of flowers blew in on the wind. Ji’s head shot up, and he put on a burst of speed. Sizi sprinted to keep up.

“What are you doing?” she panted. “It’s too hot to be running.”

Ji veered off the path and disappeared behind a barrier of reeds. Sizi hurried after him, pushing aside the fronds. They snapped under her palms.

A lake stretched across a dip in the plains, steam rising from the surface and catching the light in a myriad of colors. Seven women bathed in the waters. Ebony hair fell to their waists, and they moved with an otherworldly grace, as if the air itself parted to cradle their bodies.

Ji charged toward silks left on the rocks. Sizi grabbed his lead, but the rope slipped through her fingers.

Her palm was skinned raw. Her ox snatched a red dress and trotted toward the road. Sizi tried to pull the garment loose, the silk tearing from the force.

“Stop that,” she scolded. “You know it’s not right to steal.”

Her ox made a rumbling noise in his throat.

“Someone’s here,” one of the women called.

Startled cries came from the lake. The goddesses splashed to shore and pulled on their clothes. Droplets scattered the ground around them, leaving dark spots in the dirt.

One of them noticed Sizi on the shore. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know.” Sizi tugged at the dress again, and Ji relinquished his hold. She went stumbling back from the lack of resistance. “I didn’t want to disturb you, but my ox—” “No. You shouldn’t be here.”

The women took flight in a storm of swirling silks that shot toward the heavens. Sizi gave Ji a bewildered look. Her ox dropped his head to lip at the water grass.

“Could you return my garments?” a voice called. “I’m afraid I am not quite decent yet.”

A figure remained in the waters, steam obscuring her body. Sizi looked at the silks in her arms and flushed.

Ji made a chuffing noise that sounded like laughter.

“Hush,” she jabbed a finger into his side. “Stealing her clothes was so rude.”

Sizi left the silks on the rocks and turned away until the girl emerged. Her cheeks were flushed like summer peaches, and her eyes sparkled with a mischievous light. She stepped forward, sunlight glimmering on her dewy skin. Ji butted his head against the girl’s shoulder.

Sizi pulled his lead. “I’m sorry about him. He’s not usually so forward.”

The girl scratched behind Ji’s ears. “It’s fine. I can make an exception for an old friend.”

Sizi frowned. “You know him?”

“Of course. You introduced me to all the cattle in your herd.” An uncertain look crossed the girl’s face.

“Don’t you—don’t you remember me?”

“Should I?” The girl opened her mouth to reply, but Ji grumbled at her and she closed it again. “Perhaps not. It was a long time ago. I am Zhinü, the Cloud Weaver and a princess of heaven.”

“So I was a child when I met you,” Sizi reasoned. “Were you my parents’ friend?”

Zhinü shook her head. “We knew each other before you came to them.”

“How? I didn’t exist before I was born.”

She glanced at Ji. “It’s difficult to explain. I doubt you would believe me.”

“Just try.”

Regret flickered across her face. “Another time perhaps. I must return home to weave again before

my mother grows angry.”

“If there’s any way I can help…” Sizi realized the absurdity of her statement when the words left her mouth.

A mortal held little power against the gods, but her heart clenched at the thought of Zhinü shackled by an overbearing family.

“It’s not your problem.” Zhinü took her hand. “I have defied my mother long enough today. My sisters can shield me from her, but she may notice I am gone before long.”

Sizi bit her lip. “Stay. Just a little longer. You’ve come all this way.”

A shy smile curved across Zhinü’s face. …

By sunset, they reached a village at the base of the mountains and followed the locals’ directions through its crowded streets. A wooden inn stood a few blocks away, light spilling from the windows. There were stables beside it with magpies fluttering about. Sizi pulled Ji toward them, Zhinü trailing behind. A cool breeze blew pinkgold clouds overhead.

“If you’re the Cloud Weaver,” Sizi said, “who’s making those now?”

Zhinü glanced up. “My sisters must have taken over the loom for me. They will buy me time before the Empress notices I’m gone.”

“Does she forbid you from coming here?”

“Not explicitly, but the weaving I’m forced to do leaves little time for anything else.”

“Why does she make you work so much? Can’t you rest?”

Zhinü’s lips thinned and a shadow passed over her face. “I’m still being punished for loving someone I shouldn’t have.”

“That’s nonsense. Aren’t gods supposed to be able to do whatever they want?”

She shook her head. “We have power, but with it comes expectation. Sometimes, I think we are the ones who have the least freedom of all. You’re fortunate to live in this realm.”

“You’re here now too,” Sizi pointed out. “Maybe it’s time to start living like a mortal. Start living like you’re free.”

“Don’t you think I want to? I can’t change who I am.”

Sizi squeezed Zhinü’s hand. “We’re on the road now, and no one knows who you are. You may have been a weaver goddess back home, but here? If you want to be human, nothing’s stopping you from living as one tonight.”

Sizi made Ji a bed of hay before stepping outside with Zhinü. A bard was playing a jaunty tune when they entered the inn.

Zhinü bought plates of braised pork with jewels from her necklace and nibbled at a cabbage sliver. Sizi, on the other hand, finished half the dish before she remembered to breathe.

She took a gulp of her wine, nudging Zhinü’s foot under the table. “You eat like you’re at the high table with a noble.”

Zhinü smiled teasingly. “And you eat like you haven’t learned a day of manners.”

When the bard started a new song, a couple rose to their feet and started a bouncy jig that zipped between the tables. Sizi took another sip, the alcohol burning down her throat. Torchlight limned the contours of Zhinü’s face, bathing her skin in a golden tan. Touched by the mortal world, she seemed warmer, more human.

Sizi took one more swig from her cup and held out her hand. “Dance with me, my lady?”

Zhinü pulled Sizi to her feet. They joined the crowd forming at the front of the room. Sizi spun Zhinü in a circle, making her giggle and tug them closer. Their bodies swayed together.

They were still dancing when they stepped outside, humming the bard’s last song. Under the stars, Zhinü looked like a goddess again with her hair shimmering down her back in an ebony waterfall. Ji was lying in the straw when they entered the stables, a magpie perched on his head. Sizi fed the bird some rice left from dinner and curled against her ox’s flank. Zhinü settled beside her, wrapping an arm around Sizi’s shoulders.

When I’m with her, it feels more right than anything has in my life. How is that possible after only a day? Her mind returned to the conversation with Zhinü earlier. I shouldn’t get too close though. Her heart belongs to someone else.

But she couldn’t resist asking, “Who was the person you fell in love with? They must be incredible if you’re willing to bear your punishment for them.”

Zhinü stiffened. Ji grumbled in Sizi’s ear.

“You stole her clothes earlier,” Sizi told him. “You can’t lecture me about being rude.”

Zhinü sighed and dropped her head to her knees. She drew a trembling breath. “The girl I loved was amazing beyond words. Rough on the outside but with the gentlest heart I knew. I didn’t fight hard enough to keep her, and I lost her because of it. You…remind me of her.”

Ji nudged her with his nose and snorted.

Zhinü swallowed. “No, she wouldn’t believe me.”

“What are you talking about?” Sizi asked.

Zhinü closed her eyes and seemed to steel herself. Another silence passed before she let out a breath. “You are a cowherd at heart, Sizi, but you weren’t always a mortal one,” she said. “Years ago, you tended celestial herds in the heavens. It’s where I first fell in love with you.”

Confusion roiled in Sizi’s chest.

Hilarious, was her first response. I didn’t know you had such humor.

Before the words reached her lips though, her disbelief gave way to hope.

She fell in love with me, Sizi thought. She loves me.

The idea struck a chord inside her, as if some fundamental truth had been pulled to light. They loved each other—that was all they had known once.

“If I was immortal,” Sizi asked, “how did I end up here?”

“When my mother found out about us, she tied me to my loom and cast you down to the human realm.

This may sound insane, but hear me out and—” “I believe you.” Sizi pressed her forehead against Zhinü’s, their breaths mingling in the night air. “Don’t worry, I believe you.”

Zhinü closed her eyes, a smile stretching across her lips. Ji shifted in the straw and chuffed happily.

“Whatever happened before wasn’t your fault,” Sizi said. “But can you stay with me?”

“For as long as I am able to,” Zhinü promised. “There’s a place where the Empress may not find us.”

They left the stables near midnight, and after a night’s travel through the mountains, Sizi found herself standing in a peach grove nestled amidst the towering peaks.

Trees dotted the dewy grass, fruit hanging from the branches like blushing moons. Ji nudged one with his nose and snorted in delight. A stream meandered through the grove, leading to a mound of broken rocks at the base of a mountain. Sizi stared at them.

Zhinü followed her gaze to the stones. “The gods imprisoned Sun Wukong here under the mountains he used to rule. It was the cruelest sentence I’ve seen my father give. Sun Wukong watched his subjects waste away without his guidance. When broke free, he had nothing left.”

Sizi remembered the tales of his exploits in the west. “Is that why he chose to leave?”

Zhinü nodded. “My family doesn’t look upon this grove because of him. It reminds them of their mistakes.

I used to believe Sun Wukong was arrogant for challenging the gods, but now I think he was just brave.”

“Maybe his grove will bring us luck. Aren’t we defying the gods, too?”

Her lips quirked up, and she dropped her gaze, suddenly shy. “We are, and marrying you would make our defiance complete. I never got to before.”

“Marriage is nothing more than a ceremonial promise, and I swear to you I’ll never leave. Can that be enough?”

“Enough and more,” Zhinü agreed, stepping closer. “You’re already everything I need.”

They kissed for the first time in this life under the speckled boughs of a peach tree. …

A year passed in the grove. Apart from going to town to trade for grain, Sizi spent her days with

Zhinü among the peach trees. Winter whispered over their home like an afterthought, and the trees sprouted pink blossoms that ripened to fruit as the days lengthened. Sizi fell asleep each night with Zhinü in her arms.

Yet when summer peaches gave way to gilded leaves, the chill froze the bubbling stream. Sizi and Zhinü left the grove each day to gather snowmelt in the mountains. They were on the way back from such a trip when wind stirred Sizi’s hair. She shivered, leaning closer to Ji. “Sizi!” Zhinü cried from behind.

An elegant woman gripped her by the arm. Ornate golden robes swirled at her side, rustling dirt on the ground. The crown on her brow marked her as the Empress of Heaven.

Her painted lips curled into a sneer when Sizi stepped forward. “You dare defy me, cowherd. I told you long ago the Cloud Weaver would never be yours, and you steal her away to the mortal realm behind my back.”

“Mother, please,” Zhinü pleaded. “I came of my own volition.”

The Empress pinched her side. “Then it seems I wasn’t hard enough on you last time, you stupid girl. I thought you learned your lesson.”

Wind lifted Zhinü and her mother off the ground. Sizi made a desperate lunge toward them but only caught the edge of a skirt.

“Ji!” Zhinü cried as the Empress hauled her into the sky.

She snatched something from her mother’s belt and threw a ball of golden light. It struck the ox right before she vanished into the clouds. Sizi fell to her knees on the mountain path, tears burning in her eyes. A wet nose bumped against her ear. Ji stared down with sorrow in his gaze.

“Hop on my back,” he said. “If we hurry, we can still catch up to her.”

Shock overpowered her grief for a moment. Sizi stared at her ox, slack-jawed.

“Close that mouth before a bug flies into it,” Ji said. “You’ve talked to me for years.”

Sizi wiped at her eyes. “I never expected you to reply. Did Zhinü cast a spell on you?”

“She returned the voice the Empress took from me when I followed you to the mortal world. We swore we would always be there for each other, so let me help you now.”

Sizi heaved herself onto his back. Her ox launched himself into the air, his hooves churning over empty space. They flew past the cloud layer, the white strands tickling Sizi’s face.

She urged Ji onward. The two shadows in the distance grew larger every moment. Zhinü met Sizi’s gaze over the Empress’s back, and she rammed her elbow into her mother’s side, hurling herself forward. Stray stars snagged her clothes. Sizi reached toward her.

Ji put on a burst of speed, and her fingertips brushed against Zhinü’s. The Empress pulled a ruby pin from her hair, the sharp end glinting in the light. She made a slashing motion. A gash opened in the heavens, stars rushing forth to fill the void as Sizi was hurtled backward by an invisible force. A river opened between them, filled with rushing waters. Clouds condensed to ground on both sides.

“Sizi!” Zhinü called from the opposite bank.

She was a smudge in the distance. Sizi jumped into the river, stars cutting into her skin. The current flung her back to shore. She grabbed Ji’s lead to pull herself onto solid ground and started to weep. Zhinü continued screaming her name, but by nightfall her voice had given out.

Sizi’s heart ached with every breath. “Please,” she whispered. “The world has been so unfair to us already.

Just let me see her one last time.”

As the moon rose higher in the sky, a brown-speckled bird landed on Sizi’s shoulder, chirping. It hopped across the ground and braced itself at the edge of the river. A second one locked wings with the first so it could hover over the flowing stars.

“Magpies.” Ji lifted his head. “They must have heard you.”

A third came, followed by a fourth and fifth until a storm of birds blew across the sky. They extended over the starry river, forming a bridge that led to the opposite bank.

“They are determined creatures,” Ji said, “but not very strong. You should hurry.”

Sizi took off her boots and walked onto the surface. The magpies held her weight, so she broke into a run toward Zhinü. They met in the center of the bridge. Zhinü wrapped her in an embrace, kissing Sizi like a woman drinking from an oasis in the desert.

“The birds won’t hold for long,” Sizi said. “Come with me before we fall in.”

Zhinü shook her head. “Not yet. By making the river, my mother has cut herself off from your shore, but she knows mortals cannot survive forever. You may still die.”

“We’ll have years before then. Maybe decades.”

“To gods, even centuries pass in the blink of an eye. But I have an idea.” She drew silver seeds from her pocket. “I took these from the imperial gardens when my mother first banished you to the mortal realm. Plant them in the clouds and water them with stars. Their fruit can give you eternal life.”

“Tend to them with me.”

“My mother would notice if I disappeared, and her influence extends across the heavens. She must remain unaware until the seeds are grown. Then it will be too late for her to interfere.”

Sizi buried her face against Zhinü’s shoulder, breathing in the scent of peaches and starlight, trying to commit her to memory. The birds wavered beneath their feet.

“I lost you before. This is more than I dared to hope for.” Zhinü gave her a watery smile. “Build a home for us again, my love.”

They kissed once more on the magpie bridge, suspended over the river of stars.

Matt Bowden, Staff

Untitled

By Monea V, 10 His day started as it always did every year. He just turned twenty-one and wanted to assure a clean bill of health. Gabriel was always that type of person who couldn’t break a pattern, one who stuck to what he already knew. So it wasn’t much of a surprise when he’d left his wife sleeping and loaded everything in his car before the sun barely rose to head to his annual doctor's appointment.

What he wasn’t expecting was the news that Dr. Azarael laid on him right around checkout time.

He set his clipboard down gravely “I’m so sorry, you have terminal cancer Gabriel.” Dr. Azarael reached out his hand for support and Gabriel yanked his own back stumbling.

“What- I don’t understand. How? Cancer! How long do I have to live?! You’ve never seen this before?”

Gabriel’s desperate confusion turned into sudden rage.

“You're going to need to control yourself!” Dr. Azarael said, throwing his hands up for protection. “You’re predicted to live about 5 more months, maybe less.”

Esperanza believed in karma whether it was good or bad it was going to catch up to you. So she never lived without hope and she never prayed without faith. Even while growing up in the poor of Puerto Rico she did what she could for those she cared about and eventually it paid off. She had met Gabriel while studying in the States. What didn’t make sense to Esperanza was why her husband was now sitting in front of her bawling about how he’s going to pass away soon.

“I don’t think I can do this, I know I’m usually brave for you. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die.” He whispered hysterically while tears streamed from both their eyes like a waterfall drowning out all sound.

They just stood for a second numb and the next few days rightly followed suit. They slept, worked, sat together numb like pins and pricks were eating at their heart every time they dared to spread their lips. They ate together without uttering a sentence with more meaning than “Did you add milk to the potatoes this time?” Gabriel cleared his throat and set down his fork looking up at Esperanza.

“I don’t want to live the rest of my life well, my months like this, I want to live.” He said with desperate eyes.

“I don’t understand.” Esperanza said worriedly.

“You need to be on my side. You either understand or you don’t but I don't want to stand here and die.”

Experanza gave a quick nod of acknowledgement and soon after their plan was set in motion.

They spent the next two weeks gathering their passports, all the money that they’d need, and a strict itinerary. They had even found a multilingual guide to accompany them on their journey. “The Ultimate Bucket List Adventure” as Enzo liked to call it. He was young and experienced and always had a far off look in his eyes. He just liked new. New places, new people, new days. His job was perfect for him aside from the time when his vision set them off path on a hiking trail in Mexico or when his terrible time management made them 4 hours early to snowboard in colorado.

3 Months of “new” had passed and Gabriel, Enzo and Esperanza had officially gotten accustomed to the fast life. Getting up exploring the new city, state or country staying for a day or two and then flying off to somewhere new.

Their plane had just landed in Seoul, South Korea. The last thing on Gabriel’s bucket list was to illegally skydive over the Gyeongbokgung Palace. He arrived shortly in the hotel and started preparing for one of the most dangerous days of their life. Esperanza’s phone had been ringing off the hook for most of the day and no matter how much she wanted Gabriel urged her to ignore it so she did.

Later that day Esperanza and Enzo had watched Gabriel fly from that plane with proud eyes. They watched as he started to fall from the sky and their smiles faded. They watched the parachute he tried to open bottom out and then the one after that. They felt the piercing screams leave their lips as they saw Gabriel land with a splat in pieces, multiple pieces on the ground around them.

Months had passed since Gabriel’s death and everything was starting to feel okay again. That was until she got a call from the same number she ignored all those months ago except this time she answered.

“I’m so sorry this is Dr. Azarael, I made a mistake Gabriel isn’t diagnosed with terminal cancer I got the charts confused.”

Mihika Nagale, 12 Yusra Nisar, 10

Krisha Shah, 10

Audrey Schumacher, 11

Two Months Apart

By Akshita Krishnan, 10 Ring. Ring. The receiver crackles. Just twice meant it was important.

“Hello?” She asks tentatively, in a whisper. June is on the other side; she can tell from the raspy breathing.

“August?”

The vibration of August’s phone wakes her, a groan slipping from her mouth as she remembers what happened last night. The headache percolating from the bridge of her nose pushes harder, and she takes a hand up to it, trying to smooth it out. Alcohol and her do not mix, evidently.

She palms the nightstand for her glasses, and tries not to break anything in the process. Putting them on, the room comes into view, and she lifts off of the bed. A bout of sunlight, she thinks, before walking over to the window and pushing the curtain apart. Buzzing from her desk lets her know that it’s currently 12:20 pm. Just perfect.

The first floor of the apartment is wrecked. Half-eaten plates sit on every visible surface, and the overwhelming smell of beer floods the room. August yawns, and moves the record player, picking something random from the collection before putting it on. The tune feels familiar, and a voice in her head mouths, I love you, I always have, and oh no, oh god please no.

The wind is warm and smells like salt, August registers. The sun washes over her, and she looks over to see June driving. Her face is soft, and a pair of black sunglasses crowd her face. August tries to sneak a look at her.

ABBA plays from the radio, and August can’t help but smile. June doesn’t love it, but she does it for her, and there’s something painfully intimate about that, August thinks.

They cruise through the mountains for what seems like forever, finally coming to a stop at a beach.

June smiles, and August looks like she forgot to breathe. August learned a few things about June over the past few weeks, but she can never quite understand how June can look at her like the last thing on the Earth, how her eyes never falter through that gaze.

August tries not to think about it too much.

“The water is nice today,” June whispers, and August pulls herself out of her thoughts. “Fancy a swim?”

“Maybe later,” August responds, before tugging June onto the flimsy beach towel they’d brought. They press their lips together, and August is lost.

That’s another thing she’s learned about June. She kisses like the world ends. It always starts slow, almost like she looks to see if August is okay with whatever is happening. Once June knows that she’s okay with it, they melt into each other, and August is dissolved in a heady mix of June, June, June, and there’s no reason to come up for air again.

They spend a few moments like that, sprawled out on the sand, lost in each other. June pulls out a pack of cigarettes.

“Do you think that this would ever not be a secret?” August asks, breaking the silence of their slow and even breathing. June hums neutrally, puffs of smoke coming out of her nose.

“I couldn’t tell you,” she responds, and moves closer to August, wrapping an arm around her waist.

“I don’t like making you keep things a secret. You have enough to worry about without keeping another one of mine,” August says, and June breaks away from kissing her neck, taking a moment to look at June.

“August, I couldn’t care,” she responds. August frowns, but she continues. “I love you. I could keep so many more secrets for you.”

“Say it again.”

“What? That I could keep so many more secrets for you?” June asks, teasing. A blush spreads across August’s cheeks.

“No, the other thing.”

“I love you. I always have,” June laughs, and pokes at August’s arm.

“I love you too.”

“Dancing Queen” ends, and August pushes off the wall. June’s gone, stop pondering, she scolds herself, before doing some work. Picking up the plates, she comes across a ceramic bowl, and she remembers the day that June made it for her, after she’d made a one off comment about how the store never has any good ceramic bowls.

She’s everywhere, August thinks. Why can’t I forget?

It’s not that August never tried to forget June; she tried so hard, but it wasn’t enough. June could never be shoved into a spot because she wasn’t the person who just fit in that space. She needed a palace, with acres of gardens because that’s how expansive she truly was. A simple corner of August’s mind could never be enough for June. She’d wiggle her way out.

August slips into a stupor, because all she can think about right now is how June floats everywhere.

“Did you ever notice that our names are two months apart?” August asks one day. They’re outside, next to the grill, and June is currently working on a batch of ribs. Her button down is rolled up, and the faint outline of a dragon skirts out from underneath it.

“What do you mean?” June says through the cigarette. August makes a note to remind her that those things kill.

“I mean that it would be a better pair if one of us were July.”

“Disagree,”June responds, flipping the meat. “I say that space is important.” August laughs at that, and June sighs, pulling the plate closer.

“Like this?” August asks, and she’s all over June, placing a hand on her waist, and brushing a nose against her cheek. June places a featherlight kiss over her lips, and tucks away just before August could lean into it.

“Why did you do that?” August exclaims, swerving around the grill, and running towards June. They catch each other near the pool, and June pulls both of them under the water. “And that!” August supplies.

“I don’t know,” June teases, and pulls them closer together. August feels like she could fall asleep right there, the sun warming her skin, and June next to her.

They slip into silence, punctuated by splashes of water and laughter. Right before August gets up to check on the ribs again, June pulls her in, her hand firm on August’s waist.

She whispers “be my forever,” into August’s ear, and her knees just about buckle.

August hates the concept of forever. It doesn’t make sense, and there’s nothing that could even be considered as forever. You’d die before forever even came close to being a thing. But for June, it’s something that she could consider. For June, she did try to make it forever.

The carpet underneath August squelches, and she looks down, dropping the bottles in her hand at the sight. An entire bottle of red wine was toppled over the white fur, and August knows it’s just Cabernet—the label says so—but her mind can only go to traffic lights, and June’s body splayed out over the crosswalk.

Her eyes begin to blur, and she sits down, taking her glasses off.

August tries not to think of the fight. It doesn’t come easy. They were fighting, and no matter what August said, June was the one trying to calm her down, trying to make it better. She hasn’t responded to June’s calls in two weeks, and there’s a voicemail in her inbox. August doesn’t have to figure out who it is.

A text from June lights up her screen. August wants to ignore it, but there’s something about it that makes her open it. A short, “come to the crosswalk for me,” flashes across the screen, and she decides not to let the anger win.

The air is cold against her face as she walks out of the apartment block. Leaning across the crosswalk, she pulls out her phone, responding with a short “here.”

She sees June’s face on the opposite side, and something lights up within her; she doesn’t even scold herself for the reaction. June is standing there, with the biggest orchid in the world, a smile on her face. August tries not to melt.

“Hey August!” June yells, and the other pedestrians stare at her. “I love you!”

“You’re crazy, June!” August shouts back, but she doesn’t think she can continue remembering their argument when June stands there like that. She remembered the orchids.

“For you,” June mouths, and she begins to cross.

And it all happens, very, very slow.

A car zooms by, running the light. August doesn’t realize it immediately, but the car moved before June could. The clatter of the flower pot breaking is punctuated by August’s screams, loud and piercing. Someone must’ve called an ambulance because a siren gets closer. June lies in August’s arms, smiling, her eyes closed.

“We did everything we could,” someone says, and that’s all August can remember before everything came crashing down.

-

August very pointedly doesn’t wipe the tears from her face. She picks her phone up again, finding June’s name in her voicemail. She presses play. June’s voice fills the room.

“You’re right, August. July would’ve meant I could be closer to you.”

Maya Palavali, 11

Cal Adkins, 12

The Ways We Are the Same

By Morgan Hurst, 10 The sound of the flowing water from the stream below reverberated in her head, silencing the chaos of her raging thoughts, calming her. Quietly, she observed how the light refracted on the water, distorting the image on the stones on the waterbed. The damp soil was cool to the touch beneath the soles of her feet, and she reveled in the shiver that crept up her spine.

Her eyes remained glued to the stones, mindlessly reaching into the chilled water to grasp one. She mentally noted how smooth it was, how beautiful.

How cold.

She eyed the rock in her hand, turning over in her palm and wiping away the specks of mud. She glanced back to the water bed, taking note of how none of the other stone moved, even though one was taken out of the picture. A member of the family, gone. She noted how beautiful they remained with one stone gone. Unmoving.

Unbothered.

She turned her face to the sky, allowing her eyes to fall shut as she was overcome with memory. The weight in her palm was the only thing to keep her tethered to the ground.

A flurry of faces flew across the forefront of her mind. Images of coffee dates and phantom touches and tears stains on expressions of stone.

Her eyes flew open. Suddenly overwhelmed, she blinked away the glassy liquid in her eyes, wiping her eyes on the sleeves of her cardigan.

Her gaze fell back to the stone in her hand. She smiled at it, full of bitterness.

“You know,” she started, “You and I aren’t so different.” Somberly, she looked at the stream. If she stared hard enough, the water resembled blood in the light of the setting sun. With a laugh, she shot to her feet, and with as much power as she could muster into her arm, she threw the rock back into the stream.

Her thoughts were silent as she watched the ripples in the water settle. If she looked close enough, she could see a crack in the stone that hadn’t been there before. Her smile turned sad; distant.

“And I resent all the ways we are the same.”

The Infreta

By Mira Jiang, 12 The girl at the table was eating fajitas. Their filling spilled onto her plate, jewel-bright peppers and roasted onions turned ghostly at her hand.

She smiled at me through a mouthful of indigo carrots. “Aren’t you going to greet your big sister, Maxie?”

My eyes narrowed. “My sister vanished the night my parents died. I don’t know who you’re supposed to be.”

“You know I went to bring our parents from the Infreta. The car broke down there, and I couldn’t get back.”

“Until now.” I stared at the countertop. “If you’re telling the truth then you’ve been gone ten years.”

“Serves me right for taking the vehicle from a crash site, I guess. But the Infreta’s not awful. It grows on you.”

“So why did you come back?”

“I wanted to see you. The Infreta grants our deepest desires, but it doesn’t go about doing it in the most convenient manner.” She shook her head. “I can’t believe you’ve gotten so tall.”

“That’s it, Selena? That’s all you have to say?”

She shrugged. “I can’t stay long anyway.”

I noticed the signs then—her trembling hands, her shaking legs, the deep circles under her eyes. Her body may have appeared fifteen, but her soul was older. What belonged to the Infreta could never survive long in the living world.

“You can’t take the car,” I said. “It’s the only way I can get work until I save up enough to replace it.”

“Then come with me. Once I’m where I need to be, you can take the car and drive back.”

I shook my head. “Not to the Infreta. I swore I’d never go there again.”

“You made that promise when you were, what, ten? The place had nothing to do with our parents’ car crash if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“It had everything to do with your disappearance.”

“Still, if I decide to take the keys for myself, you can’t do much to stop me.” She reached out, heat searing the air around her hand.

I flinched back. My eyes drifted to the pale bell peppers spilling onto the plate. Would the same have happened if she touched me?

Selena laughed. “There’s no need to be frightened. The Infreta misses you. Come pay a visit.”

“You’re not reassuring.”

“Don’t be a baby. Either you come with me, or you lose the car. Your choice.”

“How are you going to find the keys to drive yourself?”

“I—” Selena scanned the countertops, and her face fell. “I don’t know, but I have to get back. It hurts for me to breathe in this world. Can’t you see?”

“You should have considered that before you left. The Infreta is not a sanctuary.”

“It’s not as dangerous as you think either. Please, Maxie. I don’t want to fade here.” Her arms trembled as she brushed limp hair behind her ears. Color seemed to be leaching from her skin. My resolve melted.

As strange as she had become, she was still my sister.

I grabbed the keys from a crevice between two kitchen drawers. “Fine, but no farther than the borderlands. And I’m driving.”

Selena perked up. “I’m older.”

“Doesn’t look like it.”

She followed me out to the garage and yanked open the passenger-side door. Empty coffee cups spilled from the seat, followed by a cascade of toys.

She swept a plush tiger to the ground. “Don’t you think you’re too old to have stuffed animals? You gave up Ellie the Elephant when you were eight.”

“They’re Lisette’s.” I jammed the key into the ignition. “She likes to play in the back.”

Selena ducked her head to enter, her hands folded against her chest. Splotches of blue appeared where her fingers had brushed against the seat. The engine sputtered to life.

“Lisette, huh?” she said. “Aren’t you a little young to have a daughter?”

The car shuddered along the driveway before the wheels hit the paved road. “She’s not mine,” I said. “But as far as I’m concerned, she’s the only family I have left.”

Selena frowned and leaned back in her seat. I waited for her to respond, but she closed her eyes and let her head drop to her shoulder.

“I hope you remember the way,” she said after a long stretch of silence. “I don’t think you’ll find the Infreta on your GPS.” It had been over a decade since I made the same trip along those roads. Back then, I had been wedged in with my sister, our arms wrapped around a stack of file folders as tall as we were. Our parents’ heads had peeked over the front seats, Dad sipping on a soft drink and Mom drawing complex paths across the paper map.

The sounds of the city tapered off and hunched trees replaced the towering office buildings. The road turned to dirt and stone, and the wheels jolted over the ridges. Around here was when Dad would have spilled his drink and Mom would have started on a lecture about making a mess of the upholstery.

The ground sloped up beneath our wheels, and a thump came from the back. Something soft brushed against my shoulder. I cursed under my breath, the car swerving into the grass.

Selena picked up a faded teddy bear and tossed it to the back. “Eyes on the road, Maxie. Before you get us killed.”

The trail came to an end at a steep precipice, a crumpled gate swinging off its hinges. Below us, the sunset glistened off the lake.

We pitched front first off the edge. My world plunged into darkness. The car spiraled into the depths, water seeping through cracks in the windows. I fumbled for the knob beside the radio and prayed I had my finger on the right button before I pushed down with all my might.

When my vision cleared, the car had become a boat, its prow cutting through the oil-black waters. Candy wrappers and old term papers littered the benches.

Behind Selena sat a little girl with black ringlets falling to her shoulders. My blood ran cold.

“Lisette,” I said. “You were supposed to stay in your room.”

Lisette shrugged and hugged her teddy bear closer to her chest. “I was bored. You never let me go anywhere with you.”

“How did you even get here? I thought the car was empty.”

“You said she liked playing in the back,” Selena noted. “Did you bother to check the trunk before you took off?”

My eyes narrowed. “I swear, if you knew she was here—” Selena held up her hands. “I’m just pointing out what might have happened. Don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

She leaned over the edge of the boat and let her fingertips run across the top of the water. Mist curled over the rippling waves, parting to reveal the silhouette of an island in the distance. It flickered to life as we approached.

Winking lights rippled over red-striped stalls, while the carousel filled the air with tinny music. The faint scent of fried food and popcorn drifted on the wind.

A welcome sign glowed in the gloom, the wooden clown face grinning as they passed under the arch. Voices and laughter grew louder, followed by the clinking bottles of the ring toss.

The more things change, the more they stay the same indeed.

Selena raised an eyebrow. “Really, Maxie? A carnival?”

I shrugged. “I was ten. Ten year olds like carnivals.”

“But you hated when Mom dragged us to the county fair every year.”

I flung the rope around the pier. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think.”

Selena grinned. “Sure, whatever you say.”

Lisette slipped her hand into mine when we stepped ashore. The music grew louder the farther we

went into the winding stalls. Clowns, acrobats, and jugglers pranced by in garish costumes. Fairgoers kept up a constant stream of chatter, their eyes glowing with an odd silver light.

Lisette drifted toward a game booth with giant stuffed animals hanging along the sides.

The man inside it gave her a toothy smile. “Hey there, little lady. Step right up to the ring toss. Everyone’s a winner here. Well, except the losers.”

He chuckled at his joke.

Selena’s eyes widened. “I recognize him. Wasn’t he the man whose car got totaled, and the police ended up finding a bunch of bodies in the trunk?”

“I guess so,” I said. “I think I saw him on the news and thought his face reminded me of a carnie.”

Lisette looked up at me. “Can I give it a go? Please? I want one of those rainbow monkeys.”

I shook my head and tugged her forward.

“What’s wrong with her trying?” Selena asked. “It’s not going to cost you money.”

“Nothing in the Infreta comes for free.”

She rolled her eyes. “If you’re going to insist on being a buzzkill, you can at least go get the car. Walking on foot through the borderlands is a sure way to get killed.”

“And leave the two of you alone? You’re going to take Lisette through every game in sight.”

“We’ll all go then,” Selena said. “As long as you remember the way out.”

Lisette yanked her hand loose from mine. “You’re squeezing too tight.”

I could feel the gaze of the ring toss man boring into my back. I had no doubt he would be jolly and smiling, just as I had imagined him when I was younger. But was he anything like that in life?

Bodies in the trunk. A serial killer made to work the ring toss by the sheer force of a child’s will, and now he was smiling, always smiling, because I had created him that way.

The tinkling music made my head ache, and my stomach roiled like I had eaten too many funnel cakes. I kept my eyes fixed forward. Thankfully, the vertigo faded when I left the cacophony at the center of the island.

The boat bobbed on still water. I untied the rope from the pier and heaved it forward.

“Selena?” I called. “A little help here?”

I glanced over my shoulder and saw nothing but neon signs and a maze of tents leading back to the center.

My sister was nowhere in sight. And neither was Lisette.

I broke into a run, fear rising in my throat. Carnival stalls flashed past in a blur of lights and color.

A red haired woman pressed a bean bag into my hand. “Try your luck. A small prize if you land in the outer ring and a large one if you hit a bulls-eye.”

I tossed it over my shoulder and made it another few steps before a clown boxed me in. “Take a gander then take a spin on our world famous carousel.”

He punctuated the words with an air horn and a gurgling laugh. A sea of colorful masks boxed me in. The magician came next.

“Step right up, step right up—” “The greatest show—” “Ladies and gentlemen—“ “Everyone’s a winner—” “Give a warm welcome to the illustrious Mr—” I clapped my hands over my ears. “Just leave me alone!”

My voice rippled across the stalls. The crowd hesitated. I pushed past their lines and dashed down the empty lanes before they could give chase.

Worry niggled at the back of my mind. The souls were supposed to be empty vessels, waiting for someone to breathe a purpose into them. They had heard me when I told them to back off, but they hadn’t complied.

So if I no longer controlled them, then who did?

A child’s giggle drifted from a few rows over. I shoved past the tents in time to see Lisette toss a ring toward the table of gleaming bottles. It clinked against glass and tumbled to the dirt.

“A clean miss, little lady,” the jolly man said. “One of the greatest I’ve ever seen.” He flung an arm

toward the array of glassy-eyed plushies. “Pick any prize you want.”

I grabbed Lisette’s hand before she could take the rainbow monkey. “Nope, sorry. We’ve got to leave now.”

She frowned, staring at the monkey with longing on her face.

I bent down to eye level with her. “Next week, I’ll take you to Coney Island and buy you all the toys you want, but this place isn’t safe. You can’t accept gifts here.”

“Like how I’m not supposed to take candy from strangers?” she asked.

“Bingo, kiddo.” I ruffled her hair.

“Let her take it, Maxie,” Selena said. “The Infreta’s safer than the real world. Evil can turn into whatever we want it to.”

She nodded toward the ring toss man who grinned like a maniac. But then, he was a maniac, wasn’t he?

Bodies in the trunk.

I scowled. “You had no right to let her play behind my back. You should know first hand how dangerous the Infreta can be.”

“She’s not going to die from taking a plush monkey.”

“Mom always told us to be wary of offerings from the Infreta.”

“She won the toy fair and square. Though the game rules are the strangest I’ve ever seen.”

I dropped my gaze and turned away. The boat had turned into a wagon sometime during my mad scramble through the carnival. Red paint flaked from the metal, and a clown face grinned from the dented sides.

“Do you want to ride in the wagon, Lisette?” I asked.

Lisette dove into the seat and pulled her knees to her chest, a smile stretching across her face. The monkey remained forgotten by the booth.

I pulled her through the carnival, Selena keeping pace beside me. She had her arms crossed, and she kept opening her mouth as if to speak.

“Lisette didn’t win the ring toss, by the way,” I murmured. “You can’t win something if you can never lose it.”

Selena frowned. “You’re not making sense.”

“Remember how the county fair rigged the games so people would keep failing and forking out more money?”

“Like you.”

I rolled my eyes. “The point is, I made these games so I could win something for once. It’s impossible not to. Each time you take a prize though, you’re accepting a gift from the Infreta. And if you take something from the Infreta, it demands payment in return.” I glanced over my shoulder.

Lisette met my eyes and made her teddy bear dance along the rim of the wagon.

“I’ve paid my price,” I said. “It was far more than I was prepared to give. I don’t want her to suffer the same.”

Understanding dawned on her face, and Selena reached for my hand. I flinched away.

She let her arm fall to her side. “Our parents didn’t die because of you. They could have run into anything up there.”

“The joggers found their car totaled by the lake. That place is emptier than a desert at noon.” A familiar blend of guilt and grief made my throat grow tight. “What could they have crashed into?”

“A sharp rock? An unfortunate deer? Who knows? Accidents happen every day, and the Infreta has nothing to do with them.”

“But they came here, didn’t they? The Infreta took them from me. Then it took you too and left me all alone.”

“I chose to come here.”

I tilted my head. “Did you?”

The carnival lights faded in the distance. The scent of sulfur and fresh laundry hit my nose, sour and comforting at the same time. Rocks jutted across the landscape like pockmarks.

The wagon handles jolted. I pulled Lisette off right before it began to transform. Red darkened to steelgray and leather seats sprang out from the rusted bottom. A hood arced across the top, joining the windshield growing out of the front.

When the form solidified, a rugged safari car stood in front of us.

“Maybe I should drive,” Selena said. “Sit with Lisette in the back and get yourself together. The borderlands are no place to lose focus.”

Suspicion flickered in my mind, but she had a point. The borderlands were chock full of pitfalls and hidden ditches. New souls could have risen at any point and vaporized the ground around them.

I pulled Lisette onto my lap as Selena turned the ignition.

The sky roiled with icy clouds, and a half-light fell across the landscape. Silvery wisps drifted across ravines that yawned like gaping maws. Wind whispered through the open windows, wrapping my body in a cold fist. Lisette began to shiver.

Selena fiddled with knobs at the front, and a warm blast of air struck me in the face.

All of sudden, I was ten again, sitting in the backseat with the file folders in my lap. Our parents used to spend hours finding a solid spot to park the car before they got out and called to the new souls. Dad would hold the dead in his arms while Mom read off the papers Selena and I passed through the window. Between the two of them, the transparent soul would flicker into color. I used to watch them for hours without growing restless.

Memories rose to the forefront of my mind. Wrapping tamales with my mother, playing soccer with my father, tussling over the remote with Selena—I was happier then than I had been in a long time.

“Are you crying?” Lisette asked.

“Just dust in my eye,” I whispered back.

“You know it’s okay if you are.” She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and snuggled against my chest.

The car stuttered to a stop a few miles out. Selena cursed and slammed her fist into the steering wheel.

“Out of gas,” she muttered. “But I think I know where we are. I might have a safe house close by, though it’s hard to tell with the fog.”

“Is there fuel?” I asked.

“Should be. It’s not like I had a car to use it up on.” She slid out of the driver’s seat and opened the back door. “I’ll need help lugging the tanks. Maybe Lisette should stay here though.”

“But I won’t get in the way.” Lisette held out her pinky. “Promise.”

“She comes,” I said. “Who knows what could find her out here alone.”

Selena shrugged. “Suit yourself. But she better stick close because I don’t have time to babysit.”

The air pressed against my mouth like cotton while the ground rumbled beneath my feet. My shoes skidded over loose rocks, and I kept a tight hold of Lisette’s hand to keep her from tripping. The soul-winds blew colder without the car’s warmth to keep them at bay.

Selena pushed the fog aside like a curtain, but it always flooded back in the moment she passed, leaving me stumbling blind.

Then the mist disappeared altogether. Light flooded my vision, cutting straight through the gray. The beam had come from a lantern mounted atop an aging house. White paint peeled off the walls in long strips, and the porch steps cracked down the center in a jagged split. Ivy climbed up the sides, framing shadows flickering in the lamp-lit windows.

My breath caught in my throat.

In the living world, its twin stood with plastic-covered rooms and drafts blowing through the vacant darkness.

But here was my old home in its entirety, sitting in the middle of the borderlands as if no time had passed.

The doorknob turned the wrong way beneath my hand, though the floorboards creaked the same way I remembered. The aroma of chocolate chip cookies mingled with the sharp scent of habanero peppers.

A woman with gray streaked hair bustled out of the kitchen, wiping her hands on a paisley apron. “Shut the door, mi amor, you’re letting in the cold. Your father’s making your favorite empanadas for dinner.”

I let her pull me deeper into the house.

The pictures lining the halls showed the process of four lives growing together—a young couple posing at a beach, a toddler looking disgruntled in a frilly tutu, a little girl holding a laughing baby, two children playing tag in the park, a family huddled together on a picnic blanket giving their cheesiest smiles for the camera. The teddy bear beside the mother’s foot sent ice through my veins.

“Lisette,” I murmured. “Where’s Lisette?”

“What are you talking about?” the woman said. “There’s no one here but us.”

She wrapped her arm around me, and a chill draped over my shoulders. I shoved her away. She stumbled and caught herself against the door frame. A man came rushing out of the kitchen.

“Maxie,” he scolded. “That is no way to treat your mother.”

He wore the old flannel shirt I had loved and he had the same salt-and-pepper scruff on his chin, yet his eyes held an odd shine I couldn’t explain away. They glimmered like he was on the verge of tears, at odds with the frown on his face. The ring toss man smiled in my mind.

Bodies in the trunk.

I edged toward the foyer, past the rickety staircase and the perfect pictures rattling in their silver frames.

Selena stood with her back to the door, the lock latched shut.

“Let me out,” I demanded. “Lisette’s by herself. Even if the souls don’t get her, she’ll freeze.”

“She will become a part of the Infreta, just as everyone does.” Selena smiled. “I can find her a home in the carnival you love so much. She’ll be one of your fair-goers, with all the funnel cake and cotton candy she cares to eat.”

“So you’d let her die.”

My heart wrenched at the thought of Lisette wandering alone through the borderlands, her little arms wrapped around her shivering body until the cold stopped her heart.

“There is no true death,” Selena said. “Not for us. Mom and Dad lost their lives in the crash, but I brought them back here. I made us a home again.”

I glanced at the couple watching us by the kitchen. “They’re not our parents. Not really.”

The woman frowned. “Maxie, don’t be rude—” “Of course it’s them,” Selena said. “I found their souls in the borderlands and remade them just like they taught us to. Piece by piece, detail by detail.”

“We choose how we color these souls. If I could make a killer run a ring toss, you could have picked up any soul and built them in our parents’ image. It doesn’t make them real.”

Selena lifted her chin. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. Go back to your dragon games and leave the Infreta to the person who’s actually had to live here for ten years.”

A shine poured from her form, and the gauntness in her face disappeared under the yellow light. Her eyes gleamed with an empty madness.

Fear tightened in my chest. “What are you?”

“What I had to become to protect this family. You’re where you belong now, Maxie, exactly where you’re supposed to be.” She tipped her head. “There’s just one issue.”

“I’d say there’s more than a single problem at the moment.” I grabbed a vase off the coffee table and held it like a shield.

Selena stepped forward. “You’re supposed to be my little sibling, you see, but I can’t fix that yet. Not unless you’re a part of the Infreta.”

Mom and Dad started forward, their hands curled around kitchen knives. Pepper slivers clung to the blades. I bolted for the door, but the walls spun around me and I found myself running deeper into the house.

Hands grabbed my shoulders, burning hot and cold all at once. My skin shuddered like it was trying to crawl off of my body. Childhood pictures beamed down from the walls, the faces morphing into hideous snarls. A knife tore into my back.

“Welcome home, Maxie,” Selena cooed.

Richa Kanjani, 11 Michelle Jiang, 11

Anum Ali, 11

The Justice of My Sin, a Confession

By Morgan Hurst, 10 Never thought I’d end up doing this, but here we are.

I was confident about getting away with it, but never had I intended for Carlos to be prosecuted in my stead. One can imagine how I nearly lost my damn mind when he was nearly sent to death row. This little boy I've known since he popped ‘outta the womb, being sent to the chair for a crime that he didn’t commit. Not that he could anyway. I always believed that boy was too soft for the slums. He did what he needed to do to get by, which is the best you could do in a place like that anyways.

I don’t really know why I’m writing this damn letteer anyways—it’s not like I’ll ever show it to anyone anyways. Maybe the burden of manslaughter is one too heavy for me to bear, so I confide in a paper that I’ll probably just toss into the fireplace. Might as well go all out while I’m here, pen in hand.

I had no relation to the old drunkard, other than being friends with his late wife. I may as well be Carlos's uncle in name, if not father figure. I was there for that little boy when his old man wasn’t. Perhaps that’s why this whole nitshick is tearing me up from the inside out.

I remember walking into the apartment, basket full in hand. You see, Carlos was unable to get a job, since recruiters are bigotted idiots and because of his bad record. Not to mention, I always griped at him about staying in school and focusing on his grades. He’s a brilliant boy, with an interest in history I’ve never witnessed in a kid, let alone a highschooler. But he was burdened, so school was always the last thing on his mind. His father almost never worked, despite having a job at a grocery store, so they had even less money than they would have if his dad worked anyway.

I had a spare key given to me by Carlos, so I was able to walk in without issue. I put the food away, and even took the time to cook them a small meal, since Carlos was doing homework (at my command), and his dad was drunk off his ass in the living area. And for a moment, all was quiet.

Then hell broke loose.

Carlos emerged from his room at the same time his dad woke up, and always looking to start something, the old fool got up and lost his mind at the boy for something I don’t even remember. All of my attempts at deescalating the fight went unheard, much to my frustration.

Then he started pounding on my boy, and I lost my damn mind.

Maybe it was the suppressed rage I’ve been hiding from this man, this waste of alcohol and oxygen. Maybe it was because I was using a switchblade to cut vegetables, because all of their knives were too dull. The same blade Carlos bought for me, because we nearly got mugged on the streets this morning. He tried to teach me how to use it, not that I succeeded.

I vaguely remember yelling in my fit of anger, barely registering myself howling in anger over the roar of the El train outside. How was someone supposed to hear with that type of noise outside anyways? Grasping the blade in my palm, raising my arm, and striking downwards, straight into the chest of this devil in disguise. Then his body hitting the floor seconds thereafter, leaving both Carlos and I in a stupor of our own.

I’ll never forget the way he looked at me, so many emotions on his young face that I could barely decipher them all. He spoke not a word, for by now, someone was sure to have heard the arguing. I made eye contact with that boy, and my message must have been clear on my face, because he nodded once, and disappeared out that door.

I always thought he’d be a great track runner.

My memory is foggy from that moment on. I went through the motions of sanitizing the handle of the blade, wiping off the fingerprints and vegetable residue I didn’t wipe off prior to planting the metal in this estranged man’s heart.

The sadistic and twisted part of my mind planted the blade back into it’s perfect slot. It makes me sick to the pits of my stomach as I recall my exact thought as I did so, ‘He looks much better with a blade in his chest than a bottle in hand.’

And then I fled.

Not after searching high and low for this little boy I considered a son, just barely out of high school. When I couldn't find him, I assumed the worst, and my fears were confirmed when I caught sight of the newspaper the next day.

He had been caught, and blamed for my crime. And they were going to kill him for it.

And I wasn’t here for him, already halfway across the state by the time I heard the news. And even at that point, the trial had gone on for 3 days, and the jury had already started to deliberate. I would’ve been too late.

But maybe the higher powers had heard my pleas, since not even two days later, I heard he had been found not guilty. Perhaps whatever existing God (s?) had found justice in my sin.

I wasted no time adopting Carlos, and moved him into my nice little house in the Suburbs, just outside the city. Finally, he’s been focusing on his grades, and he just started his first job. I’m still working at the bank, and imagine my excitement when my boy asked me to teach him about how to handle his money. I’m so proud of him.

I still have nightmares about it, and I’m sure he does too. but we’ve always had a way of silent understanding, and I couldn’t have been more grateful for it.

But we’re okay now. It’s just the two of us, but we’re happy together, and even happier to leave the past behind us.

Purva Kapoor, 10

seams and clean edges

By Akshita Krishnan, 10 i never felt what feeling was until we were sitting, on the rooftop that night, fingers drenched in the sweet brush of mandarins, and i looked at you like you were the last thing to live for. you still are, probably. i saw your seams, torn and burned, and how they perfectly fit with mine, even with all of their clean edges, like a blanket earthed from boxes with mildew. i could never understand how we knit together, constellations that the greeks said work, and how you just accepted it. laughter, thick like molasses rings in my ears. it’s yours, of course. no one could laugh like the world would end tomorrow, and make everyone join in. something thrums in me, and there it is, that feeling like i’d die if i couldn’t have every part of you.

your love to me was calm. i remember it like fresh watermelon in heat that makes the cicadas sing, and it stirs, sitting in me like an uncomfortably lost thing. why does it feel like fresh air smells like smoke high up in the sky? the oranges were rather sour that night, but i let you feed them to me, one by one, in a slow stream. i could taste the chocolate lotion that you had on that day. i felt your smile burning the sides of my clothes. i look back to see it, slowly drowning into the sight; the curve of your lips, the faint dimples on your cheeks, and your slightly crooked teeth showing. i could spot a small freckle, skirting the edge of your nose. you tasted like milky tea, and the oranges that we just had, lips damp with juice. thick moonlight flitted around in patches about the room, and we peeled each layer back. we truly began seeing, seeing the world around us, seeing each other. i’d had the gift of sight for over twenty years, but you pulled that final blindfold. now, i sit with a few years of life on my lap. i see your eyes, honeysuckle brown, and the warmth of your breath against my neck. i can see the hollow of the ceramic vase as it sits on my mantelpiece, and family surrounds it. mine, yours. ours. the stones are heavy today. i feel them, plump against my chest, and it’s getting harder to breathe. i think of smokeless air. oranges on my tongue. your lips on mine. moonlight. and air fills my lungs again. is it worth living when who you live for is already gone?

My Child Innocence

By Evalyn Garcia, 10 I remember when bad words were the worst things you could say. When being outside was all your parents wanted you to do. When the safest place was home. When school was only fun and people were nice. I remember when living was a beautiful thing to me. Not anymore.

Aindrila Neogi, 10

Caelen Onggosanusi, 12

Caelen Onggosanusi, 12

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