The Leaf Volume XIV - La Fortuna

The Leaf Literary Arts Magazine Coral Springs Charter 2022

La Fortuna

Volume XIV

THE LEAF

volume XIV

theme: la Fortuna When thinking about this school year and this particular group of graduating students, one word comes to mind: luck. This graduating class narrowly escaped the pandemic, allowing them to still have every quintessential high school experience that had been stolen away from the last two classes - college tour, prom, Grad Bash, and graduation. Widening our lens and considering the massive impact COVID-19 has had on the world, all of us, whom are still living and breathing and creating, all of us are the fortunate ones. Many of our students lost relatives and friends over the last two years. Their families have seen ebbs and flows in their financial stability. For some, the only constants in their lives have been school and art. We chose La Fortuna as our theme to represent how lucky we feel to be thriving in the midst of all of the chaos. Our students are still using their hands and their creative minds to bless the world with a little more beauty in trying and uncertain times. Fortune favors the bold, and we enourage our writers and artists to be bold in sharing their work with the world.

“Lost in Reflection” by Madalen Erez

editorial policy

The Leaf, Coral Springs Charter School’s Literary Arts Magazine showcases the creative talents of students. The staff selects work based on merit, style, theme, and quality of writing. Art pieces and photography are selected based on quality, individualality, and rekevance to select literature.

The contents of this publication do not necessarily reflect the views or opinions of the faculty and administration of Coral Springs Charter School, but rather the views and ideas of the indivdual artists, authors, or the literary magazine staff members and editors.

“Sunrise” by Dominic Suazo

02

Our Days, Laura Gonzalez-5 Defying The Odds, Savannah Lebreton- 9 Polar Opposites, Riley Strobis- 11 Hello Autumn, You Fleeting Thing, Valentina Llano- 13 In Sickness And In Health, Secilia Ruiz-15,16,19 Winter Please Come Swiftly, Valentina Llano- 21 My Spring Lover, Valentina Llano- 23 Run, Run, Little Pheonix, Valentina Llano- 26 September 29, 2015, Charleey Kaplan- 28 The Beauty In Pain, Charleey Kaplan- 30 The Bittersweet Feeling Of Graduating, Charleey Kaplan- 33 A Bittersweet End, Savannah Lebreton- 34 Symbiotic Relationship, Ashley Vizcara- 39 Five To Two, Laura Gonzalez- 41

“Victorian era watermelon” by Daniela Pico-Martinez

“A Loving Embrace” by Jimena Carbajal

Poetry/Prose:

Art:

Sunrise, Dominic Suazo- 2 A Loving Embrace, Jimena Carbajal- 3 Victorian Era Watermelon, Daniela Pico-Martinez- 3 The Rose, Sydni Ramos- 4,5 Portrayal Of Grums, Ethan Urrutia- 6 Introduce Another Friend, Ethan Urrutia- 6 Study How Grums, Ethan Urrutia- 7 Overcoming, Ethan Urrutia- 7 Grande Jete, Isabella Veiga- 8,9 Shower Thoughts, Isabella Veiga- 10,11 Rain Dance, Jimena Carbajal- 12 Amuse, Kole Redmond- 14 Blocks, Kole Redmond- 16,17 Dark Belly Under, Kole Redmond- 17 Sun Tanned T-shirt And A Gift, Kole Redmond- 18 Traveler, Kole Redmond- 19 Anticipation!, Jimena Carbajal- 20,21 The Peaceful Sunflower, Angelina Felix- 22 Alma, Ariana Soto- 26,27 Mourning, Jimena Carbajal- 29 The Scale Of Justice, Angelina Felix- 31 Swinging Free, Isabella Veiga- 32 Despite Perilous Storms, Karina Walsh- 35 Free Time, Dominic Suazo- 36 Sunrise, Dominic Suazo- 37 Bus Stop, Dominic Suazo- 37 Don’t Be Scared, Ariana Soto- 38,39 Opposites, Ariana Soto- 40,41 Sendoff, Karina Walsh- 42,43

Photography:

Cover Photo, Madalen Erez- 1 Lost In Reflection, Madalen Erez- 2 A Portrait Collection, Madalen Erez- 24, 25

Editor-In-Chief: Laura Gonzalez

Advisor:

Samantha Harwell

Staff:

Reeselyn Haring Kylie Wojcik Erin Dunne Kelsey Dunne

03

The Rose

Sydney Ramos

04

When the sun shines and starts to rise I see your face, your smile, and your pretty eyes I feel the nice breeze as you walk through the door The birds start to sing as I look to the floor

Our Days

The morning light shining hard shining through Seemed to mark the start of something with you

But then the sun shines up in the sky And the heat comes down, your words make me cry The heat pressing down not sure of you now I thought you loved me but you won’t hear me out The sky starts to dull as the clouds start to come You won’t let me in, won’t take my love

Thunder will roar as the rain starts to pour I’m done with your antics I can’t take any more

Laura Gonzalez

I hear the rain start to fall on the ground Why won’t you stay keep me around

The cloud starts to clear but the skys turning gray We look at each other knowing there’s no more to say The moon shines ahead the starts twinkle bright We walk away saying our last goodbyes

05

Portrayal of Grums

Introduce another friend

06

Overcoming

Works Works of of ::

Ethan Ethan Urrutia Urrutia

07

Study how grums

Grand Jete

Grande Jeté

Isabella Veiga

08

Defying the odds

Savannah Lebreton

They say that the worst is over. Little kids can grow up in a world where they can be whatever they dream. What are the children to do when all they hear is no? A young African American girl growing up in a world where she is told no.

Her name was Grace and she had big dreams. The dream was to become a reporter and even though she was small and didn’t know, many doors were about to shut in her face.

Grace would run around saying, “Mom, I’m gonna be on the television some day. I promise I’m gonna work hard tovmake it no matter how hard it is.” What Grace didn’t know is that it would be a lot harder than just homework and tests.

Over the years, Grace worked very hard in school and even joined summer internships to become a reporter.

Her summer internship when she was 14 was at the local news station. It amazed her and she loved everything the news anchors did, even the little things like traffic on the highway. Even if she was getting them coffee and sitting down doing nothing, she appreciated being there and learning how they do their jobs.

When she got older, she thought she would be accepted to many jobs because of her experience. Except every door she opened was just another one that closed. They would say, “You’re just not what we’re looking for.” Even if it was said with a sweet tone, Grace knew they were talking about her race. Interview after interview, she was shut down.

Grace became very depressed thinking, “I’m the same as every other person and I work hard, why does the world have to be this way? I wish I could just get a chance to show my talents to the world.”

One day, Grace’s wishes were heard. She had submitted an application to her favorite news station that she watched every morning. They told her that someone quit and they needed someone to fill in the news anchor job for a few days. Even though it wasn’t permanent, Grace knew this was her moment to shine.

She started her job and she was so talented that they gave her the spot permanently. She used her position to talk about freedom and rights that everyone deserves. She needed to be heard and she was. Grace talked about her struggles as an African American woman and showed everyone that even when it got hard she pushed through.

It’s not always this way for everyone. Grace told the people watching at home, “Everyone is equal and we all deserve a chance to be great no matter how we look on the outside, because we are all the same on the inside.”

09

Shower Thoughts Isabella Veiga

10

Polar Opposites Riley Strobis

For what am I good for, but everything and nothing.

So many skills, but useless, utterly.

How will I make it in the world?

How will I be somebody?

They expect me to make a difference.

They expect me to be better.

But, I am the opposite of a feather.

The roof is collapsing.

The walls are closing in.

I’m being suffocated.

My patience is thin.

So much time is left, and yet there’s none at all.

It all seems heavy as I slide down the wall.

Thoughts are in my hands, words are on my tongue, how can I be someone?

How can I have some fun when I’m someone who works too hard, and yet can’t get things done.

11

Rain Dance Jimena Carbajal

12

Hello Autumn, you fleeting thing Valentina Llano

Leaves rustle, Autumn’s breath, Creaking floors and doors The heat of the fire, Blanketing my cheeks and nose, From the crisp, cool winds of the season Falling like embers, Flakes of spice, Coffee scented rooms The crinkling of pages, Old books Childish games, Messing with spirits unknown, My love for this month of moments, Unwavering.

13

Amuse

Kole Redmond

14

In sickness and in HealthSecilia Ruiz His guttural cough shakes the walls every time it pushes its way through his lungs. I’m not sure why he tries to hold it back, like it will give up and jump into someone else. Instead, it just comes out louder and he curses his body for not being strong enough to eradicate the pent-up air. When he was initially diagnosed, I hoped it would be like one of the countless romance novels I’d read, where he’d let me take care of him and cautiously hold him at night, trying not to shift any of the hundreds of wires going in and out of him. I dont read many romance novels anymore. Henry and I don’t even sleep in the same room. He won’t let me near him. He calls me suffocating. I try not to be upset or talk back, but a part of me engulfed in darkness wishes he could see me on the nights in my room when a waterfall escapes from my eyes and fills my ears. The feeling reminds me of being underwater and suddenly I’m back in July.

Henry drove me three hours from the dull countryside to paradise. He knew how I’d always loved the beach. How my naïve eyes loved to gaze at the beautiful way the horizon met the sea, as if connecting dreams with truth. Somehow, the watercolor sky was even more enchanting with Henry’s arm around my waist and mine on his shoulder.

He was never one for affection until me. I think when you love someone, you want them to be as close as possible. That’s how I know Henry’s stopped loving me. He no longer speaks to me with the youthful giddiness and hope in his voice that he once had. He lost his youth in the hospital. He no longer blushes when I hold his gaze. He’s grown unsatisfiable. Frustrated. Distant.

Every night I try to dive into the sea of his thoughts like I’d done at the beach in July, and every night I am unsuccessful. A stronger woman would have given up on Henry, resented him the way I try so hard to. The few friends I have left beg me to give up weakly grinding our dull rocks together hoping to reignite the spark that was once bright enough to set a forest fire, and the smaller me who also lives in the shadows of my head screams that I deserve better, and that sickness does not give him an excuse to be cruel. I know these things to be true and I know Henry has stopped loving me so I should stop loving him as well. I just can’t seem to cut the wire that’s tethered our two hearts together. I spend every day perched in my Victorian leather seat whose delicate wooden arms are carved into the most whimsical shapes but are drowned in black paintit’s almost like the wonder of the carvings was snuffed out by the painter on purpose as a way to curse those naive people who think bliss and childhood lasts forever - and I wait for Henry to ring the small bell I bought to make it easier for him to call me over.

He avoids ringing the bell more than twice a day and he does not allow me to visit him unless the bell is rung. This makes hearing the cheerful charm of the bell the best part of my day, even though I’ve come to expect his snark and bitterness as a response to my attempts at conversation. Henry never liked silence before. He’d fill gaps in our talks with mindless rhetoric about what the best books were or what horse he thought might win the horse race this week. I drank from his stream of consciousness like it was my first taste of water in years. If only I wasn’t so greedy and saved some for later, because now I am more dehydrated than I’ve ever been before.

15

Today, I sit in my wonder-less chair, picking splinters from the worn-out spot in the wood that reveals the original graham cracker arm - my goal is to one day pick off all the dark paint to restore the dreams and whimsy of the seat, maybe my whimsy will come back too - when I’m dragged to reality by the chime of the Henry’s bell. A smile spreads across my lips as I leap from my chair and rush to the kitchen for his breakfast tray. Warm steam rises from the eggs and crispy bacon I’ve laid out in the shape of a heart, providing a comforting contrast from the cold silver handles I shakily grasp. I carefully step into my groom’s bedroom and my smile falters slightly as it tries to creep off my face when I see Henry’s mouth twisted into a sort of disgusted snarl as if I baked him a cake of garbage and claimed it was gourmet. “Is something the matter dear?” I ask, placing the silver tray on the small fold-out table that rises like a bridge from one end of the queen-sized bed to another. “Dahlia, what is this?” he asks, making no effort to hidehis annoyance. He says my name like it’s a curse word and I use all my strength to keep my tired smile in its place.

“Breakfast, Darling. I know it isn’t your usual, but I figured I’d make you something special considering the occasion.” For a moment I expect his face to soften, but I’ve forgotten who my husband is. “And what occasion would that be?” I feel the weak wire between us tug on my heart. “Our anniversary, Henry. Two years of marriage.’’ I give my aching cheeks a break and let my smile fall and shatter on the floor. He rubs the space between his eyes and emits a deep, raspy sigh of irritation. “Dahlia, I’ve told you countless times not to change my diet so suddenly,” he has never told me this, “I don’t understand why you continue to waste your time on such meaningless things. I do not have time for an anniversary, don’t you see I am dying? Now please go make my usual, the smell of those eggs is making my stomach churn.’’ He speaks to me the way you’d scold a child who carelessly spilled her milk on the new carpet. She doesn’t know any better but at that moment you wish she was someone else’s daughter. I’m certain at this moment Henry wishes I was someone else’s wife.

I nod, grabbing the tray and walking out of his bedroom to the kitchen as fast as possible to hide the too familiar rainfall that began to escape my eyes. I toss the entire tray into the trash can and it tumbles out onto the floor with a clang that bounces off the wooden walls of our also Victorian house and startles me. I never liked the Victorian style at all. I slide down the wall dividing the kitchen from the rest of the house and let my body go limp on the cool floor as the rain floods my ears and I am once again back in July with Henry holding me on the beach. He clasps a dainty silver necklace around my neck, kissing my cheek and calling me beautiful. I have trouble remembering a time afterwards when he called me that. I’m usually the one giving compliments. Now, I roll over onto my side and look at the fallen tray’s handles, which are patterned with similar swirls to my chair, as if I could move it with my mind if I stare hard enough. My limbs feel like paperweights on the ground and there is nothing that I’d like to do less than make Henry’s usual oatmeal, but still, I push myself up and make my way to the stove.

16

blocks Kole Redmond

dark belly under Kole Redmond

17

Sun Tanned T-shirt and a gift Kole Redmond

18

**

Kole Redmond

Traveler

It’s about nine p.m. and I’ve just gotten out of the shower when I hear it: Henry’s bell. Third time today. He never rings a third time. Something must be wrong. I drop my towel, throw on my robe, and run to his bedroom while leaving a trail of fallen water behind me. I enter and expect to see him half dead or with four broken limbs that would cause him to ring me a third time. Instead, I see Henry sitting up in bed the same way he was this morning. “Darling, what happened?” I hurriedly rush over to him and check his vitals. Normal. I reach my hand up to check his temperature and he pushes my hand away, “Dahlia! Will you stop being so hysterical? Back up!” I can tell he’s trying to regain the booming yell he used to have that always scared me, but now his voice is strained and sounds like rusty gears grinding together. Although I’m not frightened, my cheeks still heat up and I follow his orders. “I’m sorry. You rang a third time.” I say, trying to steady my quivering voice. “Am I not allowed to? You can be so inconsiderate, Dahlia.” I stifle an eye roll. Has he looked in the mirror lately? “You’re right, I’m sorry. It just caught me off guard. What do you need me to do?”

He clears his throat, and I can’t decipher if it’s because he’s ill or nervous. What could he be nervous about? What is he about to say? “I hired a live-in nurse. She starts next week. I can’t have your emotions continue to get in the way of my treatment.” What? A live-in nurse? Another woman living with, feeding, and taking care of my husband? “Henry, that’s unnecessary. I love you. I enjoy taking care of you. We don’t need some strange woman living in our house doing the things your wife should be doing.” I try not to sound angry, he doesn’t respond well to my anger, but I know some emotion peeks through my monotone curtain. “Dahlia, having someone so inexperienced handle my care is not good for me if I ever want to go into recovery. I accessed my life insurance money and I’ve already hired her. I’m not asking for your permission I am simply letting you know. This is the last week I’ll needing your assistance.” He’s got a thicker monotone curtain than me.

I want to plead with him, but I know I can’ t change his mind. Next week a woman will take my husband away from me and I will not be able to see him anymore except for the occasional glance through his door, which I refuse to close all the way. I numbly return to my room and let my corpse collapse on my bed without taking the comforter off. With this, his dark neglect completely suffocated my graham crackered whimsy.

19

anticipation!

Jimena Carbajal

20

Winter, please come swiftly Valentina Llano

The spirit of winter is one always attempting to make me smile, My forlorn cheeks nestled in her cold palms.

She comes with much welcome, With much content, I kiss her hands.

I laugh at her pranks that freshen the air, The wind that blows up women’s skirts and gives children colds.

The traditions we do in her honor, All as if I designed them.

In some past life, I knew her, And put to record how to worship her.

How to position the mistletoe just right, The crinkling of a leaving fire, The scent of pine and mint flooding homes.

How to include her in our time so that, She may come and lighten our year.

With mistletoe and winter treats of mint and honey sweets, Knowing in the end, It’s all for me.

My calls and wishes to her whenever a chill breeze flows, I know it’s her.

Sending letter, Messages of warning in advance.

“Take out your coats, my dear, The worn out scarves, And many pairs of gloves, The mud covered boots, The annual sled, For I will come and bestow my love.”

21

The Peaceful Sunflower Angelina Felix

22

My Spring Lover

Valentina Llano I awaken in a field and turn to see, Her hand extended out to me.

The way the sunlight hits her lashes, two golden flames in her eyes, Her growing smile, those honey lips.

The wind blows through that green valley we lied in, That cup of a valley holding us, Two flower petals landing delicately on the surface of rose water.

Little ripples, spreading around the lines of her face.

Expressed when she smiles and softly says, fearing for speaking too loud I would startle and wisp away in the blown bits of a dandelion.

As golden as ever.

As Frost wrote, ‘her first green is gold, Will be my hardest hue to hold and eventually let go.’

I feared then and the home faded away to knowing flames that will come ash away as soon as she leaves.

“No, this is my home now,” I said to her.

“This field, this valley will be our home.”

Her brow arched, Intrigued.

“Anywhere with you is home and I need no other.”

“Anywhere I go with you is home.”

She smiled, Pleased.

Instead I listen with beckoning ears, The wine of her voice pours over me.

“Shall we go home now?”

I close my eyes.

She takes my hand.

Holds it to her face.

Her dimples shown then, And I feared knowing I will not see them again.

The white sheets.

Windows open.

Curtains trembling as the herbed winds flood in, Bringing Spring to our shared home but I had already brought her in.

She sensed.

“Don’t fear, I will always come my dear, I will make room for you in my world, Be it this valley, A hill I roll, A bee I make land on your shoulder, An herbed breeze I fly to you, Never forget my leafed signs.”

And as Frost wrote, ‘Eden sank to grief and so did I.’

It was unexpected as all that was her.

I simply went outside one day, Awaiting another gloomy cold day, Yet a warm breeze, Little bits of green peeking from the melting snow.

And then, she was at my doorstep.

As green as herself.

My spring lover, my wallflower, always the most golden and always the first to leave.

23

24

25

A portriat collection Madalen Erez

Run, run, little phoenix Valentina Llano My father, the king messed with fire, Tangled me in lies, Led my very soul astray, Oh, those fiery cries.

Run, run, little phoenix, I chirped into my mother’s arms, Run, run, little phoenix, I learned to fly too young.

The king barked his orders, At my kin and I for too long, My mother’s weary storm inside, Had to erupt soon enough.

Run, run, little phoenix, I will one day find the sun, Run, run, little phoenix, The moon knows my solemn song.

The king with wrinkles and smolders, From his battles with the caged beast, He thought himself the victor, I kicked and bleated endlessly.

Run, run, little phoenix, This cage is closing in, Run, run, little phoenix, My fire is growing thin.

26

Ariana Soto

My kin was deaf to my cries, But I know one day, Despite all this trauma, My scream will pierce this world away.

aLMA

Run, run, little phoenix, Each scar is an earned win, Run, run, little phoenix, Ignore his stupid grin.

27

September 29, 2015

Charleey Kaplan

`The cherry hardwood projected a glare as the sun hit the crown, dirt, weeds, and brokendown sediment all piled onto the cherry until the casket was covered with the soil we stood on.

The tears melted into my skin, I said my goodbyes to my father and turned around to see him there staring at me with his mistress grasping his arm while his new family surrounded him. I buried the father I once knew on September 29, 2015. I buried my dad but sit down to dinner with him every other weekend. The man that stayed up late to watch movies with me was below the cherry wood, the dad that sliced me apples every night after dinner wasn’t the same man that drove me to school all of seventh grade. The man that kissed my best friend’s mom and made his new daughters laugh wasn’t the same one that checked on me every five minutes after tucking me in and leave “magic potion” hidden around the house to drink before bed to ward off the nightmares.

I buried my father on September 29, 2015, but that didn’t stop me from craving the validation he once gave me. I threw myself at school pouring every ounce of my mind and energy into learning, I solved problem after problem, wrote essay after essay, craving validation from anyone who would give it. Every teacher who commended me for my work would bring me temporary satisfaction, but nothing filled the insatiable thirst for validation from the person I buried on September 29, 2015. As years went on, I realized the man I buried was gone; he wasn’t coming back and that’s when my mind as a fifteen year old spiraled into self-blame. Thoughts clouded my mind and heart, “He left because of me,” “Maybe if I was a better daughter he would still be here and my mom would still be happy and my sister wouldn’t be sad and confused.” My mind was filled with blame and disgust and I sat in the bathroom with my head in my knees wishing for a new life. I prayed for a bright red button to be in my bedroom waiting for me everyday after school where all I had to do was click it and I had the man under the cherry back.

I knew this button would never appear and soon I stopped waiting. My mom’s hugs surpassed all the hugs I missed out on from my dad, my sister’s laughter made me forget there was a time when the man under the ground even existed and my mom’s dinners tasted better than any sliced apple. My grades and all the work I did was no longer for my dad and his validation, it was for me. I stopped twiddling my thumbs waiting for the restart button or for my father to return and give me a hug and just hold me. Instead. I started noticing the love I was already surrounded by. I understood the new life I was gifted with, not burdened with, but I still missed the man I buried. I still wanted the bedtime stories he told and the kisses he gave, but I came to peace with those things being my past. I haven’t completely moved on, I’ve moved with the trauma that I went through, and I’ve navigated my life with those experiences always being a part of me. I don’t have to be okay with the experiences I’ve gone through, but I have accepted them and allowed them to make me the independent strong young women I’ve become and also let them motivate me and push me to become hardworking and set goals for myself in life without letting them tear me down. Today I know that without accepting that my former father was gone I would have never become who I am today.

28

29

Jimena Carbajal

Mourning

The Beauty in Pain

Charleey Kaplan

“We rip out so much of ourselves to be cured of things faster than we should that we go bankrupt by the age of 30 and have less to offer each time we start with someone new. But to feel nothing so as not to feel anything-what a waste.”

The first time I heard this quote from the movie Call Me

by Your Name it planted flowers all around my brain, it grew in all the places and moments I felt pain. It made even the sorrow I felt after losing people in my life and the heartbreak and all the pain I’ve ever felt seem beautiful. Despite all the pain, I felt it also meant I felt so much happiness and love before this, all those memories that I reminisce on when I felt this pain were moments when I was so full of joy. So as to push my feelings of the pain away and become cold after each time I was hurt, I would never feel these moments of joy and bliss that I once felt before.

By not allowing ourselves to become attached and submerge ourselves in these strong happy and loving feelings purely because were scared of the inevitable pain, we rob ourselves of the joy of life based on fear of what could be, based off the fear of hurt, and going back to that place of pain and sorrow we felt the last time we were happy.

Although I say these things and push the idea that we cant rob ourselves of joy upon the fear of pain I’ve only recently been an advocate for this belief, recently as in the moment I heard this quote echo from my tv, the moment I saw these words trace across the bottom of my screen. I used to do the opposite, I used to push away and never allow myself to succumb to those feelings of bliss and happiness in the fear, that like in the past, they would be ripped away from me, and id be left with just memories and pain. Now looking back I’m okay with being left with just memories because those memories still in the moment made me feel those powerful feelings of love and happiness and without risking the possible feeling of pain I would have never felt these things. The risk of pain may seem scary and the feelings of pain and sorrow definitely are but to try and feel nothing to save ourselves from feeling anything is not living.

30

Angelina Felix

The Scale of Justice

31

swinging free

Isabella Veiga

32

The bittersweet feeling of graduating Charleey Kaplan

I spent my days in middle school watching the high schoolers’ traipse around the school, physically and metaphorically looking up to them. Wishing and waiting on the days I was them wearing bright blue instead of Carolina and black instead of navy and then I woke up one morning in august of 2018 and I was them. I spent freshmen year wishing I could drive and be older, not boring underclassmen. Then I got my license and all I wanted was to be a senior, get all the senior privileges and the nice jackets, and win all the games at the pep rally.

And now I am, not only am I a senior but I’m graduating and leaving for college in a month and a half.

The cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard is high school flies and before you know it you’re leaving, but it really does. All I’ve wanted for these past four years is to be where I am now and now that I’m here all I wanted is to go back to when I wasn’t. The thought of my life truly beginning is one of the scariest and most exciting things I’ve ever felt and I can’t even process the notion that three months from now my life will look completely different.

I’m going to go from walking into a school that I’ve been going to for seven years to a school that holds so many years to come.

I’ve had some of the worst and best experiences of my life through this school and yes almost every second I don’t want to be sitting in a class learning about biology or statistics and silly things i claim ill never need in the real world but I know the minute I walk out those doors it’s all gonna hit me. I’m gonna miss the silly lessons and my teacher pulling popsicle sticks when nobody volunteers, I’m gonna miss meeting my friends in the hall when I’m bored, I’m gonna miss making jokes when I shouldn’t be talking and holding back my laugh with my friends during class, I’m gonna miss the pointless group projects that are just ane excuse to talk during class, I’m gonna miss my school friends that I never see outside of those doors, I’m gonna miss school naps, I’m gonna miss testing days and teachers giving out bags of candy to prepare us, and I’m even gonna miss the feeling of walking into the doors at the early hour of 7 AM and talking to my friends before the day starts.

As excited as I am for this new chapter in my life and it’s all I’ve thought about and worked for these past four years, there are always going to be those moments where I remember my tenth-grade history teacher or think about the song my teacher made up to remember the three branches of government. Although it’s all coming to an end and I knew it would it’s still a surreal feeling that I never truly thought I would understand and now that it’s here and I’m going to my last classes and taking my last tests I can’t believe my sixth-grade self once yearned for this bittersweet feeling.

33

A BITTERSWEET END Savannah Lebreton

Everyone knows how high school sweethearts turn out, ending in divorce and ending up hating each other. But they were going to be different. They were going to be the ones to make it and stay together. They were in love, and they had been together since she was 16. There may have been an age difference, but it was 2 and a half years, and that did not matter to them. They had both gone through a lot from his parents divorcing when he was young and them both losing family members. It made them special that they could understand each other’s trauma. Even through all their arguing, they had one common denominator: their baby girl. She got pregnant at 19 and gave birth at 20.

People looked at her weirdly for having a baby before marriage, but she did not care because every time she looked at her, she smiled.

Many people thought they were a perfect little family, but they had a huge secret.

They started dating in high school, and she thought they would be together forever even throughout the drama. She was wrong, and the neighbors heard fighting down the halls of their apartment complex. It made her feel like a nobody, and one day he did the worst thing he could ever do. He called her with a shakiness in his voice saying he did what he promised to never do. “I cheated” were the words that came out of his mouth, and she went speechless. Was she angry? Was she upset? She did not know, but she knew she wanted to hang up the phone, and she did. She realized that they blindly ignored all their problems, and they were coming back to hit her like a school bus.

She sat in the house staring at their picture frames on the walls that made them look like the perfect family but she knew they weren’t. It was all a front for their arguments where objects were thrown and they both cried. He would scream at her at the top of his lungs and she would just sit there in fear, crying. She grabbed all of her daughters things and put it in a suitcase. She smiled as she realized she would never have to go back to this house and the car left the driv way. She got to her parents house and never thought about him again. She was finally free.

She never thought she would get away but she did. Her and her daughter were happy on their own and every time that he called her phone, she would just turn the other way. Eventually, she got the courage to answer and she told him she wanted a divorce. She was a good mom and could do everything on her own. There was no yelling anymore, no fighting, no breaking glasses or frames, it was peaceful which is all she ever wanted.

34

Despite Perilous Storms

Karina Walsh

35

The works of Dominic Suazo

FREE TIME

36

Sunrise

Bus Stop Stop Bus 37

Ari Soto

38

Symbiotic Relationship Ashley Vizcara

The parasite was in open sight.

Taunting me, its prey.

Then made its attack.

Flying its forearm then landing it on my human body.

I was prey to its existence.

Unable to move like a deer seeing headlights.

The other parasite saw.

Like a lemming it followed the first, Doubling the attack.

Unable to move, I watched in fear.

The things they did were awful, and illing to know they would do these things.

They both began to run their needles around my thigh.

As if being petrified wasn’t enough, I now felt disgusted, as I came to understand what my dad meant by there being sick people in this world, and all I could do was watch.

During my paralyzed stage, I remembered something.

The others in the room were there.

They can help.

But then I remembered that they were commensalisms.

Meaning that they were only gaining from others while not aiding.

Leaving me more helpless than ever.

Their attacks became more noticeable, as I felt their needles inject into my blood.

Piercing my skin like a scab being picked, to inject their filthy saliva.

Not able to handle anymore the bubble burst, I slowly regained the blood I lost.

The others, staring.

Surprised me, then realizing I could move.

Without a sign of thought, I left the room.

Leaving the parasites behind and my sanity.

Without realizing I’d changed.

One thing I did know was different was that I began to feel itchy.

Running to a place, I hid in fear of my predators.

A mutualism then approached me wanting to help, taking me to someone who took me under her wing.

Unfortunately, she was occupied with the animals in the room.

Telling me to leave, distracted by the arguing.

We then left and hid in my previous hiding place.

I began to scratch my skin, irritated by the parasites’ attack.

They saw, and since they are the concerned person they are, asked what happened.

I didn’t show what happened and said I was simply itchy.

They hugged me and wished me luck hoping that I’ll be okay.

Then, before I knew it, a year passed.

Getting ready and putting on a somewhat revealing outfit.

An animal of my same species knocked on the bathroom door, telling me about their being all XX chromosomes at the party except one XY chromosome creature.

Then left to get ready.

I don’t know why, but for some reason, I began to panic.

The concealed memories within my brain came back, I remember the parasites having XY chromosomes too.

My arms began to feel itchy.

That’s when I decided to check the damage the incident caused.

Frozen in fear, I realized what was done.

It was too late.

The inflicted damage has been coursing through my bloodstream, infecting all of me.

I wondered, should I tell my mutualism about it now.

After consideration, I decided not to tell them or anyone in particular.

Resulting in more issues within my veins, containing poison, and constantly panicking towards anyone that comes close.

39

Ariana Soto

Opposites

sites Opposites Opposites Opp

Oppo

osites

Oppo 40

Opposites

sites Opposites Opposites Opp

osites

Five to two Laura Gonzalez The sun that keeps the day alight, You shine your brightness in our lives You light up every single room No one ever seems to look away from you

5

You’re the moon that keeps me calm I want to try but they’ll say its wrong I wish you’d come be in my arms But you keep away wrapped in your thoughts

People watch you as you stare They don’t know why you’re looking here They watch as you take one step close I want you now but they’re all our foes

3

I see you watch but you’re too scared I feel the need to be with you there Your hidden shake of the head Makes me stop my walk ahead

I want to run away and hide But I feel your stare, the hurt in your eyes Maybe they’ll all judge us today But maybe it will all be okay

...

4 2

You go to stand, and when I think you’ll run You turn to me and start to nod I feel a smile spread on my face We slowly start to close the space

I count down from five and get to two When you pull me in and say I love you

41

42

Sendoff Sendoff

Karina Walsh

43