The Wayfarer 2018

THE WAYFARER

THE WAYFARER “‘You mean you’re comparing our lives to a sonnet? A strict form, but freedom within it?’

‘Yes,’ Mrs. Whatsit said.

‘You’re given the form, but you have to write the sonnet yourself.

What you say is completely up to you.’”

Madeleine L’Engle

A Wrinkle in Time

STAFF Executive Staff Grace Flynn Sarah Wells

Editors-in-Chief

Liz Cook Ashley Van De Velde

Managing Editors

Cameron Coughlin Gisele Gosset Art Editors

Editorial Staff

Layout Staff

Liz Cook Cameron Coughlin Grace Flynn Audrey Frederick Gisele Gosset Julia Hess Payton Johnson Kristin Kiley Ellorie Lacey Francesca Masciopinto Molly Raichle Elizabeth Skiera Ashley Van De Velde Sarah Wells

Liz Cook Cameron Coughlin Grace Flynn Gisele Gosset Kristin Kiley Francesca Masciopinto Molly Raichle Elizabeth Skiera Ashley Van De Velde Sarah Wells

Advisors Mrs. Natalie Koblenski Ms. Jody Peters

Cover Artist

Layout Staff

Anna Peng Stargaze

Mr. Jim Ottney Mr. Mark Thering

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TABLE OF CONTENTS Literary Pieces

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Voice of the Sun: Julia Hess Revolution: Elizabeth Skiera Ode to a Bicycle: Eduardo Saucedo The Lies I Tell Myself: Grace Flynn The Man Next Door: Sarah Wells A Poem of a Girl: Anaka Leske Bubble: Julia Hess True Blue: Sarah Wells Fool’s Gold: Grace Flynn The Gift: Kristin Kiley To Give: Sarah Wells Halftime: Jack McNeil Tri As I Might: Lukas Huska Cuisinphony: Caresse Zhu Stains: Sarah Wells Behind A Mask: John McKee Who You Are: Anaka Leske The Night Sky: Maggie Bahlman On Finding Purpose: Cole Pantano Second Street: Julia Hess Warmth: Ashley Van De Velde Our Haiku: Delaney Bondoc, Julia Hess, Joana Pashaj How to be Ordinary: Kristin Kiley Cam’s New Slithery Friend: Caitlin Link Submission: Aariika Maaneb de Macedo Sisterhood: Victoria Thao Whispers at Night: Barbara Hanna Drenched: Elizabeth Skiera Show Angels: John McKee Haiku: Lukas Huska Time: Elizabeth Skiera Can I be?: Chris Imholte My Farytale: Sarah Wells Lady in Waiting: Grace Flynn Dark Matter: Sarah Wells

Artwork 5 7 8 9 10 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 22 24 25 28 29 30 31 32 37 38 39 40 45 46 47 48 49 52 54 55 56 58 59

Yutong Liu Stella Jaeckle Anaka Leske Maggie Sanders Cameron Coughlin Alyssa McHugh Gisele Gosset Greer Wittenberg Forrest Lynn Jack McNeil Liz Cook Lilly Scott Francesca Masciopinto Will Roach Eliza Li Anna Peng Lila Darragh Leah Jakusz Ellorie Lacey Kate Wasacz Peyton Jacoby Lillian Goss-Peirce Sarah Lazar Sarah Wells Kinsey Kessel Chase Korb Gina Moran Meghan Cassidy

4, 45 7 8 9, 12, 14, 17, 25, 36, 47, 55 10, 11 13 15 16 18 21 22 23, 38 24 28 29 30, 32 34, 58 37 39 40 42 46 48 49 52 54 57 59

* Denotes Edgewood High School Writing Contest Winner 3

Artwork by Yutong Liu (9) 4

Voice of the Sun Julia Hess (11)

The orange light of his lamp seemed to singe her eyes, even more than the tears and the sunlight that emanated from the bay window. “I am afraid I cannot help you unless you tell me what you need,” he said, morphing his calm grimace into an expectant grin. He surrounded himself with so many books that she wondered why he couldn’t read her mind.

“Please, you know I can’t. As I’ve said, that is the very problem.” A terror rushed from the very core of her soul to the tips of her fingers. She wondered if this was the one ailment that Master Parcell and his seemingly infinite literary remedies could not cure. Maybe his volumes did not contain the answers to the questions that had never been posed.

Each time she had entered with a problem and left with the voice of a literary sage rolling like thunder through her mind such that she could not help but ignore her own destructive thoughts.

“There is one, and I do not believe you have read it yet,” Master Parcell said. He retrieved from the shelves and placed in her hands a stiff copy of Jhumpa Lahiri’s The Namesake.

“In case you have forgotten who you are,” he said. She tossed her auburn hair from her face and reached for the novel.

After two hours of letting her brain claw ravenously at the pages, she began to shake. Not once had she felt the intoxication of completeness that had brought her back to Master Parcell’s hermitage each day like an obedient terrier to its master. “No, Master Parcell, no!” She began to search the towering shelves for the book that would relieve her of disease.

“Perhaps you may describe the symptoms of your… issue,” Parcell added, noting the tense arch in her back as she

walked toward him. She paid him no attention. The only matter of any importance seemed to be wading through the bog of canvas and paper that threatened to drown her.

“I am tired of myself. Of what I do, who I am, who I was.

The solution to every problem is in this library. That is why brilliant people write brilliant books, is it not? I only have to find the right one.”

Parcell, at that moment, awoke to the fact that he could never cure the plague that seemed to have anchored itself in her very being. His lips hinted at a smile that she could not comprehend as anything other than despicable, a reminder that she was wracking the brains of men and women just like him, who had transfigured their own lives into splotches of carbon on parchment. Parcell waited for his most senior client to explode into a fit of confusion and self-pity. Instead, she furrowed her brow and continued her search.

“Did Mordor come with a travel guide? An encyclopedia, perhaps?” he finally asked.

“I am not here for riddles, Master. I am here only for a cure,” she responded.

“Did Alice consult historical precedent before she followed the white rabbit to Wonderland?” he retorted, raising his voice emphatically. She began to scuffle quickly now, searching futilely over the titles that she had memorized years before.

Plato’s Republic. No, she thought, too technical. Ayn Rand’s The Fountainhead. She needed less existential confusion, not more. Kafka’s Metamorphosis. Woolf’s To the Lighthouse. Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse-Five. All would be doomed placebos if read in anger.

“Did Socrates stay in his abode night and day, waiting 5

for the distressed of Athens to come to him with their moral dilemmas? Did Ghandi wait until he had read each Confucian scholar to free his people?” Parcell was shouting now, on the verge of tears. She finally took her eyes off the volumes and gaped at him, a lock of her fiery hair drooping across her nose.

She raised her head slightly to scan the shelves surrounding her. Her back was to the window now, which sprayed light across her back and shoulders. “You will not find the light in a dark room filled with ancient parchment and ancient men like me,” Parcell explained.

“But she was my only sun,” she whispered, her voice threatening another snap in the strings tying her together.

Parcell paced back to his grand desk and sat down, leading “The sun must set for all her to believe he had finally given up on her. He reached of us one day, my dove,” down, however, into an ancient drawer in the desk. He he said, gentler now. “The retrieved a train ticket he had bought for himself to escape the oppression of the voices that surrounded him, the great challenge is not to stop it from setting but to see its mass of literature that shouted a warning of collapse that grew louder every day. He glanced at it briefly before deciding light while it is still day. it was not meant for him.

The night lasts only as As he held the ticket out to her, Parcell said, “The sun long as we cannot see the may rise again.” She turned toward the window now, basking in the copper of the depleted light. Her eyes lingered sun’s light.” on the horizon as though trying to measure the circumference of the Earth. A whistle blew just out of sight, and she ran to After a time, she whispered a barely audible “no.” Master it. She sauntered from the room with the tentative speed that Parcell, considering his point made, began to retreat back to accompanies a journey from home to the unknown. Parcell sat his desk until she said, “but I am not them. I need these,” she on the edge of his immense desk, eyeing the crystal ashtray said, gesturing behind her as if holding the whole of the Earth illuminated by the orange of his lamp. He thought of lighting on her arched back. Then, in one instant, a string inside her a match and enclosing it in a book, watching as a great flame seemed to snap from the tension in the room. Her shoulders enveloped his collection. Instead, he lit a match and brought it sank and her eyes settled on the warm orange light behind to the candle that sat on the sill of the window. At the him. She brought a shaking hand to her left shoulder as if moment the candle alighted, the sun fell beneath the horizon. pledging allegiance to the volumes that lay in front of her.

Parcell watched out the great bay window as she jogged Her hand slipped into the pocket of her leather jacket and toward the train station. She slowed only once to look back at retrieved a scrap of paper that was no bigger than the palm the library that had been her home for as long as she could of her hand. She paused, holding the scrap close to her heart, remember. The night was oppressively dark save the candle before outstretching her arm to Master Parcell. He took the on the sill and the orange light of the lamp behind Master scrap, which was not a scrap but a photograph, a portrait of Parcell. He gave her the kind of smile that is at once a middle-aged woman with hair redder than the core of the regretful and forgiving, loving and distrusting. A thunder of sun. The photo had craters of dried droplets of water that voices pounded against her skull, but the tears she shed began bloated the woman’s laughing face. Parcell looked up to see a to dry. She turned back around before her past could convince lost young woman heaving with silent sobs. her to return.

“I see,” whispered Parcell. He looked through the bay window to the setting sun. “The sun must set for all of us one day, my dove,” he said, gentler now. “The challenge is not to stop it from setting but to see its light while it is still day.

This story was an entry in the 2018 NCTE The night lasts only as long as we cannot see the sun’s light.”

Achievement Awards in Writing Competition.

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Revolution

Elizabeth Skiera (10)

I sit and stare at the sun.

It slowly disappears, Bright with light shaded.

It becomes a crescent.

Then a sliver.

Darkness falls.

The crickets chirp.

The streetlights turn on.

A ring of white fire surrounds that black hole that was once the sun.

Then a diamond appears on the edge of that blackness.

Dawn rushes at me from all sides.

Day has broken again.

Artwork by Stella Jaeckle (9) 7

Ode

to a

Bicycle

Eduardo Saucedo (10)

The bicycle was my ticket to Or meeting new neighbors.

Fun, There was something that was so Joy, Enjoyable And adventure.

About breathing in the freshly moving air on a My face absorbing the fresh air, Steaming hot day, My legs circling repeatedly.

And the constant sound of cars screaming by, The yellow dandelions With the bicycle taking its time, And the smell of summer.

Focusing on the quality of the time with its rider.

The bicycle transported me to There was a sense of pride in being able to ride to The park, The Quiznos, The Quiznos, The park, The Family Video, Or my neighbor’s house And to my neighbor’s house.

By myself.

The bicycle was a way to explore the world around me.

And the bicycle allowed me to have fun Getting to know the Quiznos employees, And The kids playing at the park, Be adventurous as a child.

Artwork by Anaka Leske(10)

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THE LIES I TELL MYSELF

Grace Flynn (11)

I told a lot of lies inside my head, And I knew that they weren’t true.

What’s the use of lying to myself?

I guess I had me fooled.

I told myself it’d be alright And then I went to bed.

Was it worth sleeping soundly at night When in the morning I was dead?

I saw the way she looked at you, And the way you looked at me.

I told myself it wasn’t true.

I said it could not be.

I told myself it’s not my fault.

I looked for someone to blame.

But in the end I had to confess And learn to live with the shame.

I said I didn’t love you And willed myself not to cry.

But I think that you and I both knew That was the biggest lie.

Artwork by Maggie Sanders (10) 9

The Man Next Door

Artwork by Cameron Coughlin (11)

She first saw him standing on the corner eating a hot dog.

Mustard was smeared across his lips, and she smiled at him as they passed. He waved, and she waved back.

It was fall when she saw him again as she was leaving for work. He was struggling down the street with a bag of groceries. “Good morning,� he shouted. She smiled and waved at him as they passed each other. Who was that man? She wondered before shaking her head and putting the thought out of her mind.

It was winter now and the streets were slick with ice and snow. Elsa woke up every day feeling the cold air creeping beneath her blankets. She pulled on her worn jacket and trudged out into the frosty air. One day, when the snow and ice were pelting the windows, she heard a knock on the door.

And there he was, shivering on her doorstep.

Sarah Wells (11) 10

“May I come in?” he asked through chattering teeth, “I’m Maxwell, by the way.” She made him hot chocolate and they sat by the fire, listening to the wood crackle and pop while the storm raged outside.

It was spring when she came home from work, cold and tired, to find she’d lost her keys. She yanked on the doorknob, tears of anger washing down her face. At last she slumped against the door and slid down until she sat curled up on the cold cement.

The rain started to fall then. It was a cold rain that soaked through her waitress uniform and chilled her to the bone. She watched the headlights of the cars speeding by in the rain-washed darkness and put her head in her hands.

That was how Maxwell found her, alone in the darkness, curled up by her door. He smiled. “It’s alright, Elsa, I’m here,” he whispered.

She grinned as he put his arm around her waist and brought her out into the world of sunshine.

Artwork by Cameron Coughlin (11)

It was summer when she came home with a broken leg. She sat frustrated in her living room, scrolling through her phone. She hated that her friends were having fun on the beach while she could barely hobble outside. But then the door opened, and Maxwell stepped in with a smile on his face.

“Come out,” he said, “I can help you.” She grinned as he put his arm around her waist and brought her out into the world of sunshine.

It was fall when she found him. He was lying on the ground outside of his flat. “Maxwell!” she shouted.

“I’m alright,” he said softly, “just help me inside.” So she helped him up the stairs and to the couch where he leaned against the pillows. “I’m fine.” He murmured, “just a little winded. Nothing to worry about.” But she didn’t leave him until morning.

It was winter again when she woke up to the sound of sirens piercing the night. Red and blue lights flashed through

her window. She pulled on her pink robe and stepped outside.

“What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

A man looked over at her. “It’s the man, Mr. Bayford, I think.

There’s been an emergency, and he was taken to the hospital.”

Elsa stared at him in shock.

“Maxwell….”

She stood in front of the hospital welcome desk. “Please, ma’am, can you tell me where Mr. Maxwell Bayford is? He’s my friend. Please.” The woman looked at the desperation in her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “but he passed away last night.” Elsa stood still. The world spun around her. Her heart ached within her. And then she knew she loved him. But it was too late.

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Poem of a Girl

Anaka Leske (10)

There is a girl in the back of the class Who all I have seen is do anything but laugh.

She’s tall and she’s smart, She’s gorgeous and strong, And when someone has a frown, She tries to fix what is wrong.

How does someone so pure Feel so insecure As to scar her skin with cuts and bruises And still want to hurt more.

How does someone so caring Learn to hate herself Drawing a picture on her arms, As if her mind is not dark enough.

There is a girl in the back of my class Whose eyes are glazed over Like newly trimmed glass.

A ghost of smile Hints on her face.

She is the girl In the back of my class Who’s so sad that you find it rare To find her smile or laugh.

Her friends tell jokes...

She closes her eyes.

And enters her mind.

Artwork by Maggie Sanders (10) 12

Bubble Julia Hess (11)

There is a river They say will never end It springs from a moment Of joy and confusion And ends with a blink and a whimper It winds up the mountains And down through the heavens Swells among the young And shakes among the old It rushes for the lost And slows for the lonesome Bends through the desert To reach an oasis A bubble on the tide of empire, I flow west with the river.

I search for gold on the banks of the river Ask if all is yet discovered

Artwork by Alyssa McHugh (9) 13

True Blue

Sarah Wells (11)

Have you ever met a person Who is dug so deep inside That the gem they hold within Is easily disguised?

Have you ever met a person Who is laughing to the world, But when no one is looking They display their heart unfurled?

Have you ever met a person Who has daggers in their smile, But when they turn away Has a heart that holds a mile?

I know that you have met him Because I’ve met him too.

He’s a terror and a monster, But when he bleeds, his blood’s true blue.

Artwork by Maggie Sanders (10) 14

FOOL’S GOLD Grace Flynn (11)

Artwork by Gisele Gosset (11)

Eyes of the purest blue, Glassy and idle, Show no hint of thought Within your gorgeous head.

Dark locks frame A fine-featured face.

But the mind is empty, As desolate as a desert.

Glossy, red lips and Bright teeth flash As your voice fills the room, Dripping with sweetness.

But your words, Your words are empty, Not saying what you feel Or what you think.

I begin to wonder If you can think Or feel at all.

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THE GIFT

Kristin Kiley (11)

Everyone’s always telling me, “Just see what the future holds.

Your past is so trivial, It’s only thinking ahead that counts.

Dream big.

Think fast.

Move on.”

But the greatest moment of my life, The only thing that’ll ever count, Is the feeling that overcame me That sunny, summer afternoon.

When everything was ending, And everyone was gone, The one who came to my front door.

That white bomber jacket I knew she loved, unforgettable smile and confident step, Waiting for me.

Handing me that little gift, Her most prized possession, Stapled into a Christmas bag.

And just as she had turned to leave, Tears welling in my eyes, I felt myself fall into embrace.

My very thoughts enveloped in her warmth.

I miss those days, Those amazing summer nights.

And though she may never remember, Although she may regret, That moment she made my world stop Is one I will never forget.

Artwork by Greer Wittenberg (11) 16

To Give Sarah Wells (11)

She gives.

Her hands serve.

Her mouth soothes and comforts.

She smiles.

She laughs.

She gives.

Her heart slowly empties.

Each day, the water Flows into the ocean And the spring dries up.

Her heart becomes An empty wineskin, cracking, desperate for love But unable to find it.

She gives Until she has nothing to give.

She breaks Until she is nothing to break Any longer.

Artwork by Maggie Sanders (10) 17

HALFTIME Jack McNeil (12)

Artwork by Forrest Lynn (12)

Characters: COACH WILLIAMS: A 28-year-old man in his first year of being a head coach. He is very serious, determined, and well-dressed. He was an All-American but broke a bone in his neck and had to retire before he made it to the NFL. COACH WITHERS: He is the longtime assistant coach at the school. He’s in his 60s and doesn’t like the new style of offense Coach Williams runs.

COACH PUCKETT: Coach Puckett is another old, grumpy assistant coach. He goes hand-in-hand with Coach Withers, and they agree on most football decisions.

MITCH: Mitch is the quarterback. His father is a large donor to the football team. Mitch is not good but is the starter because of his father.

MIGUEL: He is a senior offensive lineman. He stands 5’10” and weighs about 320 pounds. Miguel is a very upbeat and encouraging character who is well liked by his teammates.

TREY: Trey is the running back and star player of the team. He is very arrogant and talks too much.

DAN: He is a wide receiver and captain of the team. Dan is a true team leader and is very good at keeping the team together.

REX: Rex is the star middle linebacker. He is borderline insane and is very intense.

SHAWN: He is the team manager but did not make the team and is bullied by the other players.

Setting: The play takes place in the team locker room of a fictional, present day, Florida high school. It is halftime of the last regular season game for the Jones County Bulldogs. After starting the season 6-0, they lost their last five games and are in danger of missing the playoffs if they don’t win this game.

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Scene 1:

MIGUEL:

(quietly) Yeah… the doctor.

TREY and MIGUEL laugh quietly with each other while REX continues to search.

(It is the end of the second quarter, and the team is going back to the locker room for halftime.They are losing by ten points to a team that they should be beating.Tensions are high as the team has been on a losing streak and is in danger of losing their chance at the playoffs.The scene is set in a locker room.

The locker room has lockers on the walls and benches in the middle.The coaches wait in the hallway.)

TREY: Hey, Rex, I know you’re missing your steroids, but look on the bright side… maybe your acne will finally go away!

MIGUEL: Yeah! And you can give your sister her bras back!

COACH WITHERS: Alright, that’s enough. Focus on the game!

SHAWN comes running back into the locker room with bottles of water. He hands them out to the players. DAN returns to the locker room behind him and starts talking to COACH PUCKETT.

REX enters the locker room last and throws his helmet at SHAWN as he is walking in.

REX: (yelling) Will somebody on the offense make a play?

DAN: Coach, what are we supposed to do about their defense?

I can’t go anywhere without them sticking to me like glue.

How am I supposed to get open enough for Mitch to hit me MITCH: Yeah, I’ve been waiting all night for someone to step when I can’t even get enough space to breathe? up.

COACH PUCKETT: I’ll tell you how. We’re gonna open up the TREY: (taken aback) Are you kidding me? Have you seen yourself throw? You couldn’t hit water if you fell out of a boat. old playbook and stop messing with this new offense. Second half we’re gonna run jet sweeps and bubble screens. Mitch MITCH: (angry) Oh, yeah? You got something to say? can’t mess those up.

TREY: Yeah. You’re the problem. You wait around for someone DAN: Alright, I like that. But how else are we gonna move the else to make a play while you do nothing. ball? Our linemen are worn down and tired already, and Trey MITCH storms at TREY but is stopped by DAN. hasn’t had a good game since his girlfriend broke up with MITCH: How about you worry about yourself. (He is him. interrupted by Dan) COACH PUCKETT: We’re putting the game in your hands, Dan. DAN: (loudly) Everybody shut up. I’ve had enough of this.

It’s your time to become a man.

Everyone plays a part in this. Stop blaming each other.

DAN goes back and sits down on the bench with his teammates.The team talks amongst themselves for a brief moment. Conversation between MIGUEL and TREY starts to pick up.

DAN walks out of the locker room in frustration, and the arguing picks back up.

MIGUEL: Shawn, why don’t you make yourself useful for once and bring me some water?

MIGUEL: Hey man, what are you doing after the game? My homie, Juan, said he’s gonna throw a party. You should come by man.

TREY: Yeah, cool. Are there gonna be girls there?

MIGUEL: Man, of course there are gonna be girls there.

TREY: Alright cool, cool. Can I bring my boys from the crib?

MIGUEL: Yeah, man, definitely.

TREY takes a sip of his water and the conversation seems to end.

TREY: Does he have speakers? You know I only go to parties with music.

MIGUEL: Of course, man. What do you think he’s some chump?

TREY: I’m just making su—

SHAWN leaves the locker room to get a water bottle.

REX: (yelling) Hurry up!

The team sits in silence for a short period looking defeated and helpless. The coaches walk into the locker room after finishing their conversation.

COACH WILLIAMS: Alright, boys. We’re not out of this one.

I know you guys have worked hard this year, and we’ve struggled recently, but I need you all to get your heads on straight for this second half. Get some water and rest. We’re taking the field in seven minutes.

COACH WILLIAMS leaves the locker room, but the other coaches stay behind. Conversations between the team play out.

MIGUEL hides in the corner eating a donut.

REX: (confused) Where is my stuff? Has anyone seen my stuff?

SHAWN reaches for TREY’s empty water and steps on his cleat by accident. (loud) Watch it man!

MITCH: What stuff? What are you talking about?

REX: My pill container. I have to take something… that… that the doctor gave to me.

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SHAWN: I… I… I’m sorry Trey… I didn’t mean to—

Except for Rex, he doesn’t seem to care too much about a girl’s feelings. I don’t know what we’re gonna do with that kid.

COACH WITHERS: He’s just like his daddy. It’s too bad he’s not here to help him.

COACH WILLIAMS: Can we talk about the game now, please?

COACH PUCKETT: You got any suggestions?

COACH WILLIAMS: What if we moved Dan to quarterback?

TREY cuts him off.

TREY: (aggressively) What

did you just call me?

SHAWN: I’m sorry… I mean T-sizzle TREY: That’s what I thought.

MIGUEL: Anyways man, like I was saying. He’s got music, girls, a pool, it’s looking like it will be a nice time.

TREY: Did you say a pool?

MIGUEL: Chyeah mannn!

TREY: Oh, I’m coming. I’m bringing my floaties, too.

COACH WITHERS and COACH PUCKETT look at each other with confused looks on their faces.

COACH WITHERS: Dan’s never played a snap of quarterback in his life. Why would you put him in with the playoffs on the line…?

COACH WILLIAMS: Back in college, we were losing bad to Oklahoma. Our starting quarterback went out before halftime and our backup wasn’t very good. Our coaches got together and put a plan together with one of our receivers to play quarterback. It didn’t make sense when they first said it, but it worked. We ran for 300 yards in the second half without a quarterback and won the game. I think we can do the same thing. We alternate between Dan and Trey at quarterback and run the triple option.

REX pulls a roll of tape out of his locker and begins to wrap it around his wrists. MITCH is sitting next to him and begins to question him.

MITCH: What’s the tape for?

REX: What does it look like it’s for?

MITCH: Your wrists?

REX shakes his head and ignores MITCH.

MITCH: Do you need any help?

REX: Yeah, actually I do. Can you rip this for me?

REX holds his wrist out in front of MITCH’s face with the roll of tape hanging off.

MITCH: Just this right here?

REX: Yes, snowflake.

COACH PUCKETT smacks the door and steps closer into the room.

COACH PUCKETT: We’ve been telling you to run the triple option all year! Why would you put it in now when we haven’t even practiced it?

COACH WILLIAMS: This is different. You wanted to run it with Mitch under center, I want to run it with Dan out of the pistol. Dan at quarterback, Trey at running back, and Rex at fullback.

As MITCH grabs the roll of tape, REX reaches out and smacks MITCH in the face. MITCH sits still looking stunned as REX rips the tape by himself.

Focus on yourself, quarterback.

MITCH: (sarcastically) Yes, sir.

Scene 2:

The coaches are quiet for a moment, all appearing to think about the decision. COACH PUCKETT scratches his head and puts his feet on the desk.

(The lights fade on a three count. Lights up on the coaches’ office.The coaches are in the office discussing how they should attack the second half. COACH WILLIAMS is reclined in his chair at his desk with his feet on the desk. COACH PUCKETT stands in the doorway, and COACH WITHERS is in a chair in front of the desk.)

COACH WITHERS: Well, I like it, I guess. We better go tell them.

COACH PUCKETT: Who’s gonna tell Mitch, and who’s gonna tell his dad? What if he pulls the funding from the program?

COACH WILLIAMS: I’ll tell him. If we win, there’s nothing to complain about. If we lose, I’ll take the blame.

COACH PUCKETT: You know you could be risking your job, right?

COACH WILLIAMS: I know, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take.

COACH WILLIAMS: We have to wake Trey up. I don’t know what his deal is.

COACH PUCKETT: His deal is that he hasn’t cared since that girl broke up with him.

COACH WITHERS: These kids, man… (he shakes his head) They think every girl they meet is gonna be their wife.

COACH PUCKETT: 20

Scene 3:

you keep the ball, Dan. After that, you run right at the (The team is gathered around in the locker room waiting for the defensive back. You look him right in the eyes and you make him make a decision. Either he goes after you, and you pitch coaches to give them the speech and lead them back to the the ball to Trey, or he takes Trey, and you run that ball all field.) the way home for six points. Mitch, thank you for your hard DAN: (to Trey) How are you feeling? work, but we don’t need you at quarterback this half. We’re TREY: I’m ready to go, man. I’m sick of losing. moving you to wide receiver to block for your teammates.

The coaches enter the locker room. COACH WILLIAMS stands in front of the team and starts pacing back and forth, gathering MITCH: I won’t let you down, Coach.

COACH WILLIAMS: Miguel, I’m gonna need you to work harder the attention of his players. than you’ve ever worked before. Can you do that for me?

COACH WILLIAMS: This is it. This is the only game you’re MIGUEL: Yes, sir, Coach, sir! guaranteed for the rest of the year. You have 24 minutes to COACH WILLIAMS: I know I’m throwing a lot at you boys earn another one. But, as we know now, no one is going to give it to us. We have to take it. We have to come together as right now, but if you believe in me, and you believe in your a team and take control of this football game. It sounds easy, teammates, we will come back into this locker room with a trust me, I know. But it’s not. You have to look across the line ticket to the playoffs. I promise. I’ve given you the keys, it’s on you guys to drive us to the promised land. every snap for the next 24 minutes and prove to the man One team. across from you that he’s less of a man than you, that you own him, and he has to bow down to you. You have to. There’s One family.

One goal. no more “next week.” This is your last chance. We’re gonna switch things up this half. Dan, you’re playing quarterback. Rex, What do you say?

REX: (screaming) Let’s go kill these slimeballs! you’re going to fullback.

The team all jumps to their feet and roar.They grab their DAN: What? What do you mean? helmets and run out of the locker room.

COACH WILLIAMS: We’re running the triple option and we’re gonna shove it down their throats. Dan, when the defensive Music . . . Lights . . . Curtain​ end holds his gap you give the ball to Rex, and Rex you run Fin through that hole like a jackhammer. When the end crashes,

Artwork by Jack McNeil (12) 21

Tri As I Might I am a triangle.

I always have more than two sides and less than four sides.

Yes, you guessed it, I have three sides.

I always have three angles and three vertices.

I can be Equilateral–where all my sides are equal.

That’s really great because then all my angles are the same size, too!

I am the classic triangle shape that you usually see in kindergarten, or as a street warning sign.

I can be Scalene–where I don’t have any congruent sides.

Congruent means equal in length.

When I am Scalene, none of my angles are equal either.

I feel unbalanced when I am Scalene.

I can be Isosceles–where I have two equal sides.

Then, two of my angles are equal, too.

This will lead to someone feeling left out.

Two’s company and three’s a crowd.

Sometimes, I can be Obtuse–where one angle is greater than 90 degrees.

That sounds like it would be hot, but it’s not my temperature. It’s actually the measurement of my angle.

I can also be Acute.

Sure, that sounds like a nice, gentle, small, and cute triangle.

Just like a puppy, or maybe a kitten, but that’s not always the case.

What is true is that I will always have three angles that are less than 90 degrees.

The awesome thing is that no matter what I am, I always add up to 180 degrees inside.

Also, I come in handy for lots of things.

In engineering, a triangle is the strongest shape and is found in most structures.

Next time you go past a bridge, try to count how many triangles you see in the construction of the bridge.

Too many to count!

I am also helpful in solving crimes.

There are always three sides to every story: The first person’s, The second person’s, And the truth.

I am a triangle, and that is the truth.

Lukas Huska (10) Artwork by Liz Cook (10) 22

Artwork by Lilly Scott (11)

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Cuisinphony (Opening Sonata, Adagio, Minuet, and Allegro are the four movements of a standard symphony.)

The clattering of the cookware and the sputtering of boiling water are the themes of the Opening Sonata. Lightly blanched pork cubes sizzle in a splash of oil, quickly adhering a glossy golden color. The tempo slows down; Adagio enters with the lowering of the stove heat. The pork bathes leisurely in the simmering water. As the fat becomes translucent and the meat turns tender, the stove is turned to low heat. This introduces the Minuet, the graceful dancing rhythm. The star anise releases its distinctive aroma while dark soy sauce and melted crystal sugar glaze the meat with a brown, shining coat. A sprinkle of salt and green onion slices brings out the savory taste of the Shanghai-style braised pork. As the meat absorbs the multi-layered flavor, the heat is turned off to let the pan cool. Allegro enters as the dish is ready to be served. The rhythmic movement of the spatula, combined with the rattling of the plates, brings back the excitement and liveliness of the first movement.

Cooking, in its essence, is a very mechanical process: heating ingredients and applying seasonings. But when the goal of cooking transcends the production of food, it becomes a work of art — when I am cooking, I imagine myself conducting a symphony of sensations. Cooking reminds me to experience these sensations more mindfully, making these fleeting moments linger a little longer.

Caresse Zhu (12)

Artwork by Francesca Masciopinto (10) 24

“No!” shouted the girl impatiently. “I want my ice cream.”

The girl waved wildly at the mushed cone that was melting into the sidewalk.

“Mom can buy you another one.”

“No, I want that one.”

The boy sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair.

“It’s too cold to have ice cream anyway. See, look, you’re shivering. You’re freezing. You’re turning into an ice cube. Ahh!” The boy pointed at her fingers in mock terror, “There’s ice forming on your fingers. You’re going to turn into an iceberg.”

The boy grabbed his grey sweatshirt and pulled it over his head.

“Quick, put it on!”

Cassy had stopped crying and was smiling up at her brother. She knew him too well to believe him, but she had forgotten the ice cream.

“I get to wear it?”

“If you don’t you’ll die. Hurry!”

STAINS Sarah Wells (11)

The sun was shining brightly above the starch-white building near the edge of town. The hum of excited voices floated through the building and out the open door. People hurried about like bees pollinating flowers, and the building was already filling with guests. Inside, in a bright dressing room, a girl stood in front of the mirror smoothing her dress and tucking back her hair. Her reflection beamed at her, and she couldn’t help but twirl in her purple dress. The satin folds swished around her, and she grinned. She touched her hair making sure it was still in place and let her smile fall. “Today is the day,” she thought, “Today, everything has to be perfect.”

Suddenly, there was a soft knock on the door.

“Yeah?” she shouted The door opened hesitantly and then opened all the way.

A young man with a tousled head of black hair slipped into the room.

“Chris! What are you doing here?”

“How do I look?”

“Like you’re going to make Emma cry. But seriously, you’re not supposed to be here.”

He shrugged.

“Yeah well. Hey, I’ve got something for you.”

The girl looked up expectantly as he pulled a tattered sweatshirt from behind his back. She looked at it and then looked back up at him. Realization hit her.

“No,” she said softly, “that’s yours.”

She looked back at the sweatshirt, and a flood of memories washed over her.

She sat next to him on a gray statue of a lion near the gates of the zoo. It was a cold, fall day and the leaves crackled dryly in the branches like tiny bones shifting in the wind. The boy was much older than his younger sister, but he still looked down at her kindly, even though at this point, she was sobbing.

“Hey. It’s going to be okay, Cassy.”

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Cassy giggled as he pulled the sweatshirt over her head and rolled up the sleeves nearly a foot before her sticky fingers saw the light of day.

“Phew. That was a close one.”

The boy reached down, swung his sister around, and tossed her over his shoulder.

“Let’s go find mom!” he shouted, running off into the zoo, Cassy bouncing over his shoulder.

It was a bright spring day where the ground was soft and wet, and the birds warbled their new compositions in the trees. Cassy was a few inches taller and was going through the stage when to her the most ludicrous clothes seemed to be the most fashionable. Her brother was painting the . fence that was peeling and cracked so that it looked more like a fence from the set of a horror movie than the fence in front of a house. He looked up as his sister walked over. She was wearing his gray sweatshirt like a short dress over a pair of intensely patterned leggings. She smiled mischievously at him as she approached. He smiled.

“What’s this now, Cas?” “Oh, I don’t know, Chris. Just watching you paint a fence.”

“Right. Give it back.”

“That’s not what you told Emma last night.”

Chris gave her a look. “Okay. That’s it.”

He reached forward to grab her, but she was too quick and dodged away. He lunged and managed to tackle her to the ground. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

He tried to look fierce, but Cassy was laughing.

“Looks like I win. Hand it over.”

“Too late.”

He looked down and groaned. White paint was splashed all over the front of the sweatshirt like the dirt spray on the back of a bicycle on a wet day.

“Dammit, Cassy.” He tried to frown at her, but he couldn’t help but smile. “It’s fine. It wasn’t that important anyway.”

Chris sighed and stood.

“Sorry, Chris.” The girl said softly, then she grinned.

“Maybe you should get a new one, though. I’m not sure Emma wants to wear a dirty sweatshirt.”

Cassy laughed as Chris tossed a paintbrush at her, and she skipped inside.

It was summer, and the rubber in the cracks of the pavement was turning into soup. Cassy was toting a penny board down the road, a confident smile on her face. She headed towards the hill at the end of the street, a jump in her step. Chris was sitting inside, letting the cold air conditioning gush across his face. He was using his old gray sweatshirt as a pillow as he leaned against the wall. A girl sat next to him, her nose buried in a book, and he smiled down at her with a stupid grin on his face. In less than five minutes, calamity struck. A scream pierced the lazy summer day, and Chris sprang into action. He vaulted over the couch and was out the door in a moment. Cassy lay on the ground in a heap, the penny board still skittering down the street. Chris hurried towards her and lifted her in his arms. He carried the sobbing girl inside and looked at her bleeding knees. He grabbed the first thing he could find to stop the bleeding, and his sweatshirt was stained red. The other girl had grabbed the penny board and was now watching as Chris dried his sister’s eyes. Her eyes softened as she watched him, and she sighed softly.

It was late fall now. The trees were bare of leaves and stood like skeletons against the sky. A bonfire crackled in the frosty air sending sparks into the crisp night. Cassy sat next to her brother watching the stars. She was older now, and her dirty blond hair had turned into a deep auburn. She was snuggled in the now tattered sweatshirt, his arm wrapped tightly around her.

“Hey, Cassy, there’s something you should know.”

Cassy could feel Chris’ heartbeat quicken. She smiled. She already knew what this was about.

“What? You’re smiling. This is supposed to be serious.”

Cassy laughed.

“Is this about Emma?”

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Even the darkness couldn’t hide the flush that was dancing over Chris’ face.

“Yes.” He paused. “I-I’ve asked her to marry me.”

Cassy couldn’t help but let a smile cut across her face.

She beamed and flung her arms around her brother.

“I’m so happy!”

Chris hid his face in his hands, and Cassy punched him.

“Nerd.”

He shoved her, and Cassy stumbled towards the fire. She shrieked as she fell, sparks lighting up the sky as she tumbled into the fire. Cassy was lucky. In an instant, Chris had pulled her from the flames and patted out the sparks on her clothes.

“Are you alright?” he breathed, trying to catch his breath.

“I’m fine,” she smiled. “Only your sweatshirt isn’t.”

He looked down at the scorch marks and shrugged.

“Whatever. Now I just have to make up a good story to tell about it.” He grinned.

“Yeah. Saving your little sister is just totally not manly enough for Emma.”

“Shut up.”

Cassy shook her head free from her memories and forced herself to return to the present. She stared at her brother as he smiled down at her.

“Cassy, I know you’re worried that things are going to be different now when I’m married, and they are, but that doesn’t have to be a bad

He laughed and pulled her into a hug.

“Thanks,” she whispered. “I love you.” …

A few years passed. Cassy was now a new aunt and her brother was a happy, but entirely stressed, father. He and Emma had called that morning to say they were sorry they couldn’t make it home that day, but they were too busy and Chris couldn’t miss a day of work. Of course, Cassy had reassured them that it was fine, but inside a pang of sadness had pricked her. Now, she stood in front of her mirror, pulling her hair into a braid. A red cap with a gold tassel lay on her bed, still starched and new. Cassy looked at the tattered gray sweatshirt hanging limply from her doorknob and pulled it over her head. The scorch marks and white paint remained, but there were new stains there too. There was a dark mud stain from when she had worn the sweatshirt to soccer practice in the rain. There was a green ice cream stain from her favorite mint chip ice cream. She smiled.

“This is for you, Chris,” she whispered as she grabbed the cap off her bed and teetered down the stairs in her brand new heels.

change; it’s just going to be different. I’m going to be gone more, and I wanted to give you this. I know it’s just a sweatshirt but it can remind you of the times we had together and the promise I’m making to you that I’ll never forget you, no matter what happens.”

Cassy swiped at her eyes with her fingers.

“Stop, Chris. I’m going to ruin this once-in-a-lifetime makeup.”

All artwork by Maggie Sanders (10) 27

Behind A Mask John McKee (11)

I wear a mask because I fear.

When I take it off the dark comes near.

To keep it on I sacrifice The connection that I crave so dear.

But the darkness comes in another way; If behind my mask I do stay Will spark my personal curtain call The ending of my lonely day.

Yet past the mask, it comes again From the one I put above my friends Will pierce my heart with blade of lead Will bring me to a tragic end.

But I persist in pushing on Until my iron will is gone To stop the dark from claiming me To begin, with another, a brand new dawn.

Artwork by Will Roach (10) 28

Who You Are Anaka Leske (10)

You are not a name, You are not a height, You are not a weight, Nor are you a gender, You are your favorite novel, You are your happiest moment, You are the song in your head, You are what you have for breakfast Sunday morning, You are your favorite place.

You are your laughter, You are your dreams.

You are millions of things, But some people choose to see The thousands of things you cannot be.

But it is your choice to let them stop you.

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Artwork by Eliza Li (10)

The Night Sky

Maggie Bahlman (12)

My interest in astronomy began from simply gazing into the sky on a clear and cloudless night.

The mere thought of stars, planets, and other galaxies beyond the view of the naked eye made me curious of what exists far beyond our atmosphere. I chose to take Astronomy because I was indescribably drawn to the study of celestial objects, space, and the universe. I quickly learned there were groundbreaking astrological discoveries that I never knew existed.

We began the course by studying the constellations in the night sky. According to statistics, our Milky Way galaxy consists of more than 300 billion stars illuminating the dark night (Masetti).

Like most people, many nights I can identify the big dipper and sometimes the little dipper. As a more informed observer of the sky, I now know the big dipper is a part of a larger constellation called Ursa Major. North of Ursa Major lies Ursa Minor (the little dipper) which is home to the star most commonly known as the North Star or Polaris.

Did you know that from our position on Earth, we never see the other side of the moon?

The moon’s rate of rotation is the same as its rate of revolution. This phenomenon is known as synchronous rotation and explains why we only see one side of the moon. With satellites, astronomers have taken pictures of the far side of the moon which looks shockingly unfamiliar — marked with craters, highlands, and maria.

Works Cited Masetti, Maggie. “How Many Stars in the Milky Way?” NASA, NASA, 22 July 2015, asd.gsfc.nasa. gov/blueshift/index.php/2015/07/22/how-manystars-in-the-milky-way/.

Dunbar, Brian. “The Sun.” NASA, NASA, 6 May 2015, www.nasa.gov/sun.

Cooper, KT. “The largest star currently known.”

A Sidewalk Astronomer in Charlottetown, 17 Oct. 2017, sidewalkastronomy.ca/the-largeststar-currently-known/.

Hille, Karl. “Hubble Finds 10 Times More Galaxies Than Thought.” NASA, NASA, 13Oct. 2016,www.nasa.gov/feature/goddard/2016/ hubble-reveals-observable-universe-contains-10times-more-galaxies-than-previously-thought.

The earth’s diameter is 4 times larger than the moon’s diameter. The sun is 864,000 miles wide or 108 times larger than the Earth (Dunbar). The largest known star has a diameter of 2.800.000.000 km. To put this in perspective, a passenger airplane circling this star at 900 km/hr would complete one orbit in 1,100 hours (Cooper). From Earth, the moon looks to be a short plane ride away. However, the distance between the moon and Earth could fit all the planets in the solar system with 2,729 miles left over. Even greater, the Milky Way galaxy is one of a hundred trillion galaxies (Hillie). The insignificance of the Earth’s size compared to the vastness of our universe is similar to a grain of sand on a large beach.

Now, when I sit outside to look at the sky above, not only do I see the millions of stars above, but I think of the millions of stars I cannot see, the planets in our solar system, the Milky Way galaxy, and the billions of other galaxies full of information yet to be discovered.

Artwork by Anna Peng (10) 30

On Finding Purpose Cole Pantano (12)

“The purpose of life is to live it, to taste experience to the utmost, to reach out eagerly and without fear for newer and richer experience.”

—Eleanor Roosevelt Since the beginning of time, humans have been asking themselves why they were placed here.

An eternity of asking, and still no certain answer. Our outcome is several different schools of thought, from Nietzsche and Camus to Seligman and Burns. And yet, here we are, floating on this not so special rock in an infinite expanse of blackness. That prospect is quite grim. We have this wonderful gift of life, of breathing and thinking. There must be some reason why we are here.

Throughout my life I have been trying to find the reason why I am here, the purpose I serve in the beautifully chaotic universe.

My idea of what my purpose is has evolved throughout my years in highschool. During my junior year, I suffered through quite a few existential crises because the idea of nihilism terrified me. The thought that one day I would be dead and eventually forgotten is scary, but that is exactly where my current view of purpose lies. We are gifted with a short and finite amount of time on this rock, so we must not squander it. None of us are getting any younger, so why wait to find out the reason why we are here.

We are here to live and to be happy. As the above quote says, we cannot live in fear of new experiences. My purpose is to be happy. I refuse to live a life where I struggle to find a more fulfilling purpose, for I feel that the most fulfilling feeling is joy.

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Second Street Julia Hess (11)

Artwork by Anna Peng (10) 32

I pulled a five out of my back pocket and gave it to the hot dog man. Dad always told me to keep money in my back pocket because that way people won’t take it from right under your nose. If you’re gonna have something stolen, you better make sure it isn’t from right under your nose. I asked the hot dog man which way Second Street was, but he just kinda looked down and shrugged. I don’t think he wanted to talk to me very much, so I just started walking, even though there was smoke in my face from the hot dog man’s cigar and a ringing in my ear from the train whistle.

I didn’t get too far till I started seeing the river. I once heard a man say that if that river flowed with gold, people still wouldn’t give it the time of day, and I guess he was right because then he chucked a full bottle of Blue Ribbon into it. I decided to give the river the time of day and sat right on the edge with my feet hanging over the pink brick. I wondered what John would’ve said if he had been here. He’d always sit right on the edge of the pink brick and ask me if I wanted to be one of them minnows that sits right at the top of the water, sucking the oxygen from the air and just floating around and all. John’d always give the river the time of day.

Actually, he loved the river so much that he’d always say he wanted to be a part of it. I’d ask him why, and he’d tell me that the river flows as long as it wants without people telling it which way to go and all. I guess he never saw the dam.

The dam was just a tiny waterfall with a bridge over it, and people walking on the bridge like they weren’t telling the river which way to go.

The dam reminded me of boot camp. When I’d write to Mom, she’d always tell me to call it slipper camp because that made her think of Cinderella and her own dad, who, I guess, had to go to boot camp too. Anyways, at boot camp, I remember we’d all have to sit on the freezing cold beach, hooking arms. On sarge’s count we’d all duck our heads under the frothy white of the wave and come back up a hundred times. That’s how we did sit ups. When your head came out of the water, you felt like you had the skin on your face tied back, that’s how salty it was.

Thinking of the sit ups made my face hot, so I stood up and kept walking down the river until the river curved and I was walking alone again. Everyone else was on the sidewalk, but I walked off to the side on the dirt. I walked as close to the edge of the sidewalk as I could without touching it, and I

watched my tan boots walk flush to the tan of the sidewalk.

It was nighttime and as black as pitch out, so every time someone walked past, I felt my heart beating in my head. I pretended I was holding Mom’s hand, just like we did when I was a kid and she’d take me to the fair and buy me a snow cone that was so good it would turn my tongue blue, or when she held my hand in that picture Dad took of us at my graduation. My heart was beating in my head that day too, and my gown was so shiny snow cone blue that it messed up the picture.

At my graduation, a man in a uniform that was as blue as my robe, but not as shiny, smiled a no-teeth smile at me and handed me a piece of paper with stars and colors and numbers on it. When I read it, it told me that I could be like the guys in the pictures. The guys in the pictures were smiling their own no-teeth smiles and they all had snow cone robes on too, but with dark green helmets. I wasn’t sure what student loans were, but Dad looked down at me and gave me a with-teeth smile, and I knew I was going to be like the guys in the pictures whether I wanted to or not.

After I got to the end of the sidewalk, my heart was beating so hard that I realized I was excited. I was excited to see Mom and Dad and Second Street and everything I forgot when I got on the train eighteen months ago. I missed Mom making meatloaf and telling me I could help if I wanted. I missed going to the bank and buying bonds with Dad when he was happy and hugging Mom against Dad’s closed door when he got really sad. I missed putting my head under the pillow and feeling everything but the moon outside my window go away. I missed walking down to the river with John and talking about the minnows and the trees and him turning away when his eyes got wet and me pretending not to notice.

I missed riding my six-speed with no hands over the speed bump on Second Street so I could fall over and pull at the curls of skin on my hands.

I could still hear the whistle of a train behind me. I wondered if the hot dog man got on a train and went to a different city to sell hot dogs and smoke cigars in people’s faces, or if he had to walk his hot dogs all the way home.

I looked up and saw the peeling red of the sign for Benny’s Curio Shoppe, which was owned by a really old guy named Benny who had white hair and white teeth and yellow on his fingernails like the yellow of the Wizard of Oz books behind 33

Artwork by Lila Darragh (10)

him. Mom would take me in there just about every day after school, but she never let me get anything. She would just stand at the counter and talk with Benny, laughing at him even when he wasn’t funny and smiling at him when he gave her his no-teeth smile. After we’d been in there for about 84 days, she’d tell me to make my way back to Second Street and that she’d catch up. Sometimes if Dad was in the kitchen he’d ask me where’s Mom, and I’d say back with Benny, and he’d just get a sad look on his face and walk to his room and lay down and lock the door.

I tried to look in the windows of Benny’s, but it was night, and it looked like the windows had wood or something over them anyway. I crossed the street and thought about Benny and how John always said he hated him. John said Benny was a permanent fixture of the past, just like his Wizard of Oz and adding machines, and I’d pretend I knew what a permanent fixture of the past was so I could seem smarter compared to John who was always smart. As I crossed the street, I wondered if I would ever be a permanent fixture of the past and if that would be so bad.

The crunching of my boots on the little rocks on the sidewalk told me I was getting close to church, which, I guess, was called the Second Congregation or something, but we just called it church because it was the only one we went

to. There were always little rocks on the sidewalk by church because the sand in the sandbox with all the little kid toys in it would get blown away in the fall, and instead of sweeping it up, they just kinda left it and got new sand to put little kids and their toys in.

John always hated church because he said he was an atheist and that organized religion was the invention of totalitarians, and I’d just nod again. I liked church. Everyone was at church, and you always got to see what people thought were their best clothes. Even the girls my age had to wear dresses and pink shoes and smiles. Mom and Dad and me would always sit at the way front on the left and Benny would sit in the way back on the right. Mom wouldn’t even look at Benny, even though I think she wanted to, but Dad was always twisting on the bench to look back at Benny, and when he turned forward again, his eyes were always half closed and wet. Mom seemed like she tried really hard at church. She’d squeeze her eyes shut and mumble things under her breath about forgiveness and stuff. John usually just brought a book and stood facing one of the big glass windows with his back to everyone reading and pretending he couldn’t hear anything. One time at church, the priest asked a bunch of kids to come up and tell what they wanted for Christmas, but they said things like absolution and salvation and stuff.

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That made my face all hot and angry because kids are supposed to think about toboggans and puppies and beebee guns, not all that stuff the priest told them to say about God and His Kingdom.

out on a walk, and Mom would turn off the light and go to bed. I got so excited about seeing Mom’s light that I smiled. I was on Second Street now.

The houses on Second Street looked kind of different. I don’t mean that none of the lights were on, because I guess it was kind of late. I mean that they all looked smaller. Every one of them looked like they had been squeezed down to fit the street, which looked a lot smaller too. Even the river looked a lot smaller on Second Street. My house was way down on Second Street, though, so I knew the houses would get bigger by then. John’s house looked the smallest. His parents always kept the outside lights on even when they weren’t home, so I could see everything. They still had brown grass and a cracked cement driveway. I couldn’t stop my numb legs from walking up to the house and looking in the Now, I couldn’t see church over this big brick building windows, but all I could see was black. I walked around to the they put in front of it and the metal fence they put around it. backyard, but now they had a metal fence around it. Behind I wanted to just see church so I could see myself in the sun me the river whooshed louder than my heart beating in my in the sandbox again with a toy truck and a popsicle, but I head. wanted to get to Second Street more so I kept walking. The Even with the fence, I saw the treehouse that me and black of the night was getting so black that the street lamps John would sit in every Sunday after church. Seeing it made were the stars, so I started running. I remembered something me kind of sad because it wasn’t Sunday, and it was black funny just then. I remembered that just a week ago I would out, and the river and Second Street were small. I climbed over have been running, too, right at the same time in the same the fence anyway, and I climbed up the ladder super quiet. black night in the same clothes as now but a long way from It felt small too but a good kind of small. There weren’t any Second Street. Just a week ago, sarge would have been squirt guns or Hardy Boys in there anymore, but there were yelling at me to jump over the cracks in the sidewalk like a bunch of letters. They were all crumpled up, so I flattened they were landmines. I jumped over all the cracks like they them out with my hand and reached for our flashlight, which were landmines but I really just wanted to run because it was still in the hole in the floor where we left it. The letters made the black go by faster. had John’s writing, and they talked about John and his parents Then the black got even blacker, so I stopped running in and Second Street and the river. They talked about how John’s case I ran into something, but the street lamps were still the parents wanted him to go to this big college in this big city. stars and my heart was still beating hard, so I just walked How John wanted to be a part of the river forever and not fast. I started seeing all the houses, but none of them had go to a big college in a big city. The last one I couldn’t really lights on. When I was a kid, I’d crawl out my window onto read because it was super wrinkly and kind of wet. John said, the shrubs and just sit on the front porch and look for light. in the last one, how he was finally part of the river and how There would be lights in some of the houses and lights from he was a minnow sucking water instead of oxygen and flowing the stars and the street lamps and the cars driving past. Now, without everybody telling him where to flow. I imagined his I wasn’t looking for light because all the light I could see eyes getting wet when he wrote it, and how if I had been was in the stars and the street lamps, and I wondered if Mom sitting next to him, I could at least listen and pretend like I had her lamp on like she always did when she was reading didn’t see. magazines on the couch when Dad was sleeping. Then, when I put the letters down and kept walking down Second Dad would wake up really early in the morning, he would go Street. I could see our black roof with its black shingles and

The black of the night was getting so black that the street lamps were the stars, so I started running.

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the white wood of the white walls. I was really scared because everything was dark, and the river was really loud, and my feet slapped so hard against my shoes that I had to slow down. Before I could blink the happy scared tears away, I was home. I tried to run up to the door, but the grass was so long I had to jump and I almost tripped on all the newspapers, but then I was at the door. I knocked on the door and started yelling, “Mom! Dad! I’m home,” but Mom’s light wasn’t on and I couldn’t see anything. I tried to twist the door open, but it was locked so I started to climb up to the window so I could jump in. I got so close to the window that I could feel the black of it on my fingers, but my boot slipped off the wood and I thudded to the ground.

And I laid there. I felt my forehead bleeding and I felt my foot all twisted, but I just laid there. I spun around so I was on my butt facing the river. The river sounded like it was shouting at me. Like it wanted to tell me something about Second Street and why it’s so small and why my heart pounded in my head. I wondered if I was at the wrong house or the wrong Second Street. I wondered what John would have done if he was me. I wondered where Mom and Dad were if they weren’t at home on Second Street. I decided to catch a train and keep looking.

Artwork by Maggie Sanders (10)

This story was an entry in the 2018 NCTE Achievement Awards in Writing Competition.

36

Warmth

Ashley Van De Velde (11)

The humidity envelopes you, It holds you.

The sky turns all kinds of shades Of orange and pink.

The magnolias and palms bask In the evening glow.

The sun doesn’t set until 9 pm.

Tomorrow will be a Day of the heat crawlin’ on 80 Degrees by 8 am, Running outside barefoot even Though the concrete’s Scalding, and dear Lord, I need a Sweet tea or lemonade, It’s so hawt out here! Also, Someone’s always busy Planning some bash because Down here we always…

Laissez les bon temps rouler.

Artwork by Leah Jakusz (9) 37

Our Haiku Delaney Bondoc (11), Julia Hess (11), and Joana Pashaj (11)

I hate Junior Year Remember when I had A’s There go my big dreams

Artwork by Lilly Scott (11) 38

How to be Ordinary Kristin Kiley (11)

When you’re young, everyone tells you to dream big, asking, “What do you want to do when you grow up?”

You can practically see the words forming in the mouth of anyone over twenty-five.

Most kids will proudly announce their dreams: doctor, astronaut, veterinarian, lawyer, policeman, firefighter, princess.

Growing up in a middle-class, white family in a white neighborhood in a little town far from everywhere else, the only obvious goal was to fit in, to be one of the “cool” kids, so I dreamed.

I imagined myself saving lives; I dreamed of saving the world for another day.

For a while, it made sense. I’ve known for as long as I can remember I wasn’t going to be satisfied by life in a cubicle.

But I never could see myself as chief prosecutor, the first woman on Mars, or fourth in line to the Belgian throne.

The irony was that in order to fit in, in order to be ordinary, you had to be extraordinary.

Artwork by Ellorie Lacey (12) 39

Cam’s New Slithery Friend Caitlin Link (12)

Artwork by Kate Wasacz (10) 40

Characters: CAM JOHNSON: A 16-year-old boy, confident and athletic. He is the only boy in the family. He has short, dark brown hair and is attractive to many girls. He wears polos constantly and has a good-looking wardrobe.

CALLIE JOHNSON: CAM’s twin sister with a sassy attitude. She is very book smart, but doesn’t express her knowledge constantly. CALLIE has long, brown hair and wears dresses every day, having an innocent look to her.

MRS. JOHNSON: CAM and CALLIE’s mother. She’s in her forties and has thick, brown hair that rests above her shoulders. She wears her daily work clothes which are black dress pants with a fancy blouse.

CAM: (Whispers to himself) Man can she get annoying. (He walks over to the toilet and screams.) OH MY GOSH! OH MY GOSH! (He closes the lid and runs out of the bathroom.)

CALLIE: (CALLIE comes running from her room.) What’s wrong?

Why are you freaking out?

CAM: (CAM is running around in circles, obviously thinking to himself about something.) What was that? What do I do? I’m gonna die. This is the end.

CALLIE: Calm down. You’re acting like a freak. What happened?

CAM: (Continues to walk in circles, contemplating something.)

CALLIE: (Looking at CAM like he’s going crazy) Alright, Mr. Crazy Pants. What’s going on here? I’m starting to think you killed someone or something. (She laughs to herself.)

CAM: Fine. Go in there then, and see for yourself!

Setting: CALLIE: (Walking into the bathroom.) What is so bad that A rural town home in Texas during present time. would make you scream like a baby… (Opens lid of toilet.)

AHHHH!! How’d it get in there?!

Summary: CAM: (Freaking out) I don’t know, but I need to kill it. I’ll CAM comes home one day to find a snake in his toilet. He look it up. (He takes out his phone, and searches on the web.) has never been in the situation and seems to freak out in the CALLIE: I think I’ve got an idea. I just need to do some moment. His dad, who normally would take care of situations research and… like this, isn’t home. In the moment it is just CAM and his CAM: Shut up, Callie, you’re not helping. You always do this twin sister, who CAM will take no advice from. He comes to where you think you can solve everything because you’re the the realization that he needs to figure out a solution soon, or smart twin in school. Just go away and let me figure this out. else the snake could hurt them.

CALLIE: (Ignored) Whatever, Cam. Good luck trying to kill this thing when you obviously are going to get killed. Nice Scene 1: knowing you. (She walks away.)

(CAM comes home from a routine day at school and is ready to CAM: (He ignores CALLIE’s comments and continues to look relax and watch his favorite tv show. He lives in the rural town at his phone.) First, I need to figure out what kind of snake of Cape San, and his house is a wooden ranch. When you walk this is. (As he types) Okay, so it is light brown with dark in, there is an average-sized kitchen and living room.The house brown spots… (his eyes widen) Oh my gosh, it’s poisonous! looks kept up and clean. On the wall, there is a picture of their This thing is dangerous! It could kill me! Okay, I can’t let it family consisting of the husband, wife, and a pair of twins. CAM bite me. Alright, I can do this. I’ll grab a broom, and try to walks to the bathroom that he shares with his twin sister.) shoo it out of here. (He runs to go to the garage and get the broom.)

CALLIE: (Standing in the hallway shaking her head, she looks to CAM: (Exhausted) I can’t wait to sit down and relax. But first the audience.) He can be so stupid sometimes.

I need to use the restroom. (He smiles at the audience and CAM: (Comes running back with a broom. He runs into the closes the door of the bathroom.) bathroom, lifts the toilet, and tries to shoo away the snake with CALLIE: (CALLIE enters outside of the door and begins to bang the broom, but it just swerves around in the toilet.) What the on it.) Cam, you do this every day and sit in there for twenty heck! Alright, I need to figure something else out. (Reading off minutes! Let me brush my hair real quick! of phone) Okay, so take a shovel, and cut off the head. (His CAM: (Rolls eyes) Nah, sorry Cal. Should’ve been faster and eyes widen. He runs out to the garage again to grab a shovel.) got in here before me.

CALLIE: (Rolls her eyes) Does he realize that he should try to CALLIE: (Angry) You’re so annoying! Ugh! trap it rather than kill it? He’s going to make it angry.

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Artwork by Peyton Jacoby (9)

CAM: (Comes running in with a shovel. He takes the shovel, and

runs toward the snake that stops in the corner of the living room.) Stay! Oh my gosh what do I do?!

CALLIE: (She comes walking in relaxed, and grabs the scissors from one of the kitchen drawers. Sarcastically) So, how’s it

pokes at the snake trying to kill the snake.The snake dodges it swiftly and slithers out of the toilet.) AHHH!! It’s going to kill me! (He runs out of the bathroom and closes the door behind him.)

CALLIE: (Still standing in the hallway with her arms crossed.)

going?

CAM: (He stares at CALLIE with a death stare for several seconds. He says nothing.)

CALLIE: (She smiles.) Well, I’ll continue working on the trap to get the snake out, while you sit here humiliated because you keep failing at killing it.

CAM: I’m fine. Just go play with your Barbie dolls.

CALLIE: Cam, I can help you. I am figuring out a trap right now. Just let me help you catch it and you can take all the credit you want for capturing it. (She rolls her eyes.)

CAM: You always do this. You act like you know everything just because you get good grades in school. I’m smart too, you know. Just because you’re the smarter twin doesn’t make me a dumb person altogether.

CALLIE: Cam, no one thinks that. Everyone knows you’re smart.

CAM: Whatever. Leave me alone.

CALLIE: (She walks back to her room. She observes her cardboard box and supplies.) Okay, so if I make this, and glue

You should be trying to trap it instead. You are just making it even more angry. It’s poisonous, so if it bites you, we both know that wouldn’t end well!

CAM: You don’t know what you’re talking about. Only girls would say you need to trap the snake because you’re too scared to kill it.

CALLIE: Jeez, Cam, just let me help you. We can figure this out together. You’re just going to keep failing if you try to fix this by yourself.

CAM: You are no help and cannot help me. You would just scream if you were five feet from it.

CALLIE: (She walks off, without saying anything, to her room where she starts grabbing a cardboard box, string, and tape.

Speaking to herself) Well, I’ll make the trap myself, and show

him.

CAM: (He turns around and sees the snake slither through the crack of the door. Frantically) Oh no no no no no no no! (He 42

that, and tape this… (She continues to work on her trap for CAM: (In ignorance) Alright what’s your brilliant plan? the snake, talking to herself.) I don’t know why he has to be CALLIE: Just watch and learn. (She walks over to the corner like that. I can help him catch this stupid snake. Sometimes I of the kitchen by the door to the outside. She puts down the think he’s more scared of this snake than I am. (She laughs to cardboard box.) herself. She stands downstage center talking to herself, though CAM: What are you… facing audience.) My brother and I used to be so close. At CALLIE: (Interrupting) Shh! least when we were young. We did everything together from CAM: What is a box going to do? Like that stupid slithery biking to the ice cream shop, drawing with chalk on the devil is going to go straight into it. It might be dumb, but sidewalk, and walking to school together. We would even talk not to that extent. at school, and sit by each other at lunch on a daily basis… CALLIE: (She takes out a bag with rodent scents.)

(She looks down in sadness.) Now, he ignores me whenever CAM: (CAM squeezes his nose from the disgusting smell.) Oh he sees me. At school, he walks past my gosh that smells awful. Where’d you me as if he has never seen me in get that? his life. We’re not identical, so some CALLIE: The hardware store. people don’t even know we’re related. I CAM: When the hell did you go to the miss being able to talk to him about store to get something like that? embarrassing things that happened to CALLIE: While you were having a little me, or him telling me about something play date with satan snake here. funny that happened at school. Oh, we CAM: Shut up. How’d you know to get were so close. I miss that a lot…(She that stuff? takes a deep breath getting herself CALLIE: It’s called the internet. (She together.) Alright, I need to figure this rolls her eyes.) out. Mom will be very angry if she CAM: Well, this is a stupid trap. You’re finds this snake in the house. She will acting like this trap could really scream her pants off. (She giggles a convince the snake to go straight into little.) I shouldn’t be laughing. (She smiles.Then turns towards this cardboard box? (He laughs sarcastically.) Yeah, lemme her supplies, and continues to keep working on the trap.) know how that goes. (He walks off stage.)

CAM: Stupid snake! Why won’t you let me kill you! It’s not CALLIE: (To herself) Alright, smart alec. I’ll show you. (She that hard, just let me kill you! (The snake slithers to the other takes the bag of rodent scent and pours it in a path across the corner of the room, causing CAM to scream.) AHHH! Alright I’ve floor from the snake to the cardboard box.) Oh please work. had enough. (He goes to the snake with a knife, and swings at You stupid slither creature. (She sits back staring at the trap it multiple times, totally missing the snake. He looks up at the she has created.) Alright, it looks good. Let’s see if it ceiling.) Alright, snake. You might have won, you little slithering actually works. Oh, how I wish I could prove Cam wrong this evil. one time. He thinks he’s such a know-it-all and treats me like CALLIE: (She walks into the kitchen with her cardboard box.

I’m stupid. (She stands downstage center talking to herself, With sass) Excuse me. Hope I’m not bothering your duties. but facing the audience.) It’s ironic because he calls me the CAM: (He steps in front of CALLIE’s path.) What on earth do non-intelligent one in the family when I have a higher g.p.a. you think you’re doing? and am on honor roll in school. Mom and Dad always take CALLIE: Solving the issue that you obviously don’t have his side because he’s the athletic one and the better known control of. one at school. He gets all this attention and fame for his CAM: (Gasps) I have everything under control… (The snake sports. Meanwhile, I get successful grades and don’t always get slithers to another corner causing Cam to yelp in surprise and acknowledged. I don’t really like attention, so it’s okay that I fear.) Ohhh God. don’t always get recognition, although it gets annoying when CALLIE: (She raises her eyebrows at CAM.) Yeah, that’s what I he thinks he can tell me I don’t know anything because I’m thought. a girl. (In the background, the snake starts moving toward the

Now, he ignores me whenever he sees me.

At school, he walks past me as if he has never seen me in his life.

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cardboard box.) Oh my gosh! It’s happening! (CALLIE performs a dance in excitement, twirling and jumping around, and shoving her fist in the air.) C’mon you little devil! Go to the cardboard box. Come on! (She walks with the snake from a distance, waving in the air for the snake to continue forward.) You have such little distance to go. You can do it buddy, let’s go! (The snake finally goes into the box, and Callie traps the snake and closes it up carefully.With excitement) Holy crap. I DID IT! (She pauses in amazement, comes to realization and starts to dance again in happiness spinning in circles. She hears Cam coming back into the room.) Oh no. Act natural Cal, jeez. (She regains her calmness and leans against the kitchen counter with a smug look on her face.)

CAM: (He looks around the kitchen looking for the snake. He looks under the table, then goes into the living room, looking under the couch and coffee table. He looks up at Callie who’s still looking smug.) Wait, did you…?

CAM: I’m stupid.

CALLIE: Yes. Yes you are. Boys are dumb. What can I say?

CAM: I’m sorry Cal. I should’ve listened to your ideas, and took in what your solution was instead of denying your help right away. I’ll respect your ideas from now on. Let’s admit it, you’re the smart twin.

CALLIE: Yes, that is true. (She smiles, all proud of herself, and flips her hair confidently.)

CAM: But, I’m the good looking twin for sure. (He winks to the audience.)

CALLIE: Alright. Ruined the moment here.

CAM: Well, you’ll always be the twin that I’d much rather be.

I’m sorry, Cal, for being such a bad brother. I’ll do anything for you to forgive me.

CALLIE: Anything? (She smirks at him.)

CAM: Gosh, what do you want? I shouldn’t had said that.

CALLIE: I get the car whenever I want it for the next two weeks.

CAM: Dang, that’s pretty harsh. I guess I deserve that.

CALLIE:Artwork Oh you betcha!

(She smiles Roach and walks to Cam and

by William (10) gives him a hug.)

CAM: I’m just so happy we got that snake out of this house. I don’t know if you could tell, but I was actually kind of scared.

CALLIE: (Sarcastically) Really? I couldn’t tell by the girly screams coming from you. (CAM smiles in embarrassment.

MRS. JOHNSON, the mother of CAM and CALLIE, walks in.)

MRS. JOHNSON: Hi guys! How was school today?

CALLIE: It was good! How about work?

MRS. JOHNSON: Oh the normal! (She walks offstage to her

CALLIE: Oh, you betcha I did catch that devilish snake. Super easy too! Took only like five minutes. No big deal. (She blows on her nails as if she’s done a huge duty.)

CAM: So you got it in that box over there?

CALLIE: Yep. CAM: (He walks up to the cardboard box, bends down, and puts his ear next to it to listen for the snake. He jumps back startled after hearing the snake finally.) Whoa! (He looks at CALLIE in defeat.)

CALLIE: (She walks to the cardboard box trap, and picks it up carefully and walks outside.)

CAM: (Looks at the audience.) Well, who looks like the

dumbass now, huh?

CALLIE: (CALLIE walks back inside after releasing the snake.

bedroom, where the audience can still hear her voice as she talks to her children.) I’m stunned you both haven’t seen or

said anything about my surprise yet!

CAM: (Confused) What surprise?

MRS. JOHNSON: The new pet snake I got! It’s in its cage in the mud room! (CAM and CALLIE stare at each other shocked,

She goes and sits at the kitchen table grinning at CAM.They make eye contact. She starts laughing.)

CAM: Fine. I’ll be the first one to say it… (pauses) You were

right.

CALLIE: And? CAM: I should’ve listened to you.

CALLIE: And?

having a mini freakout waving their hands at each other in silence.They both go running off the stage outside to go find the snake. Music plays, the lights dim, and the curtains close.)

FIN.

44

submission Aariika Maaneb de Macedo (11)

tearing her gaze away from the untouchable sky, she forced herself to move. she took step after step away from those waist-high wooden barricades and sashes of tape, more distance between rivers of mahogany seeping into the her hands shook. concrete. she fell in with the steady stream of people who she walked stiffly ignored the stench that rolled through the lovely breeze. with measured steps someone smiled and waved across campus, another laughed and even eyes, but her hands into a phone. she remembered the Enforcer taking a look at bounced against her thighs. the him on the street, swiftly twisting on their heel, and leaving tremors that ran through each individual the mess for the coroner to take care of. muscle traveled all the way up her arms and into his eyes had closed and he had fallen into an abyss that her chest. she thought that perhaps it was possible for he couldn’t climb out of or fix. it would have been just her heart to be shaken out of its cavity. like sleeping if there wasn’t a tunnel through his heart and her breath caught for the first time since she saw him tumble splashes of red on his face. to the ground. the knot in her throat moved down into a blinking once, twice, she clenched her fingers into her palm. comfortable place behind her breastbone. it became very likely she tucked her chin and looked down. then she forgot. she that something had been irrevocably shattered inside of her. forgot the man’s panicked brown eyes staring at her shiny it felt impossible to continue moving her chest up and down. shoes and his darkened shirt. she forgot his syrupy caramel how could she move when his chest couldn’t? skin, his booming laugh, and his mother’s name. she forgot his chest didn’t move anymore, did it? his eyes didn’t open, everything about him because the minute she saw him, she and his feet didn’t move. his dark skin had an indescribable recognized her brother, pallor to it now, like a zombie from one of those old movies. her father, she laughed at that, in a short hysterical burst. he’d be suited her son, to that role now. he could just stand up and wreak the havoc her friend; that he deserved, the chaos that his end wouldn’t cause. she recognized them all… she stopped her feet and looked up into the sun. the rays so she walked across the beautiful campus of branded her eyes with streaks of white, yet she could still see blooming flowers and sprouting trees the smoke rising from that unshakeable barrel of gray and until her hands stopped shaking. black connected to a crisply uniformed body. how was it steady? did their hands not shake like hers did? or did their hands shiver and twitch after the first time they grabbed a soul and ran away with it? the second time? the third? how many people had disappeared into this Enforcer’s hands? maybe it was like setting out a rat trap. a mission to… decontaminate. a mission to protect themselves and the rest. perhaps they were indeed Artwork by Yutong Liu (9) the Protector and the Enforcer?

45

Sisterhood

Victoria Thao (10)

From the late night talks, To the early morning wake up calls With fun weekend walks, And shopping at malls With memories filled with laughter, Having pillow fights at night Which might cause crying after For causing such a fright.

This is sisterhood, my friend.

It’s something to hold on to forever; It’s something to cherish till the end, Like a large puzzle put together.

Though this friendship requires decision making, Nothing can keep it from breaking.

Artwork by Lillian Goss-Peirce (9) 46

Whispers at Night Barbara Hanna (12)

Her small fingers are just near mine.

Fragile little fingers, resting peacefully on the mattress next to her head.

I look at her and I wonder — Is this what a mother feels when looking at her child? Can that love possibly be stronger than this one consuming my heart?

No, I decide. It cannot.

I observe the legs that never supported her and I consider the muscles that chose not to listen to her and I think, No! Let me tell you how you’re supposed to work. I go on, but they don’t listen.

They Don’t Ever Listen.

Her muscles still tense. Her legs remain unused.

And I give up, looking again at her fragile little fingers and hoping that they will give an ear to my plea.

Artwork by Maggie Sanders (10)

47

Drenched Elizabeth Skiera (10)

Standing on the end of the wooden pier I pause, wishing I was not in the middle of the line of hot sticky bodies. I wish there was a breeze or anything other than this overcast humid day. Even the water is warm.

It is too loud to focus, too loud to see wildlife, but it is also too quiet. Much too quiet to be distracted from the sticky halflight all around, but then it began to rain.

It washed away the heat of the day and the feeling of others in the line that are just too close.

Now we are all cold, screaming, smelling like wet dog, and running for cover.

Artwork by Sarah Lazar (9) 48

Snow Angels

John McKee (11)

As the sun was setting against a pure white canvas of snow, the silhouette of an elderly man emerged from a wall of driving snow. He came to a snow-covered bench, sat down, and looked out at the frozen lake in front of him. As he sat down, a young couple with a child came walking by, walking out onto the icy lake. Slipping on the ice, the young child fell on his back. “Don’t cry,” crooned the mother, “now you can make a snow angel!” As he lay there, his tears freezing on his cheeks, the mother moved his arms and legs back and forth, making an angel in the powdery snow. The child began to giggle.

“There you go!” said the father. “Now let’s get you home, buddy.” He lifted the child out of the snow, kissed him on the forehead, and carried him as their silhouettes faded back through the driving snow.

fell over on his back, and started making a snow angel. “Look Dad! I’m making a snow angel!” he yelled over the wind. The father laughed and smiled.

“I see you, buddy. It looks like it could leap right out of the snow and start flying!” However, as the boy sat up, his face went numb. Tears started to well up in his eyes.

“Dad, were the angels watching over Mom?” he asked, his voice shaking.

“Of course they were, buddy, Mom was an amazing person,” the father replied. He was smiling, but his eyes told a different story.

“Then why didn’t they help her?” The son broke down in tears, clinging to his father.

“Well… Mom was so amazing that God wanted her back right away,” the father said as his voice broke, “that’s why the angels took her back.”

“But…b-but I want her back more!” The son bawled, burying his face in his father’s coat.

“I know, I do too…” The father picked up his son and carried him, disappearing through the wall of white.

Next came a boy and his father. The boy ran out to the lake, sliding on the ice. Meanwhile, the father, struggling to keep up, briskly walked down the shore. The boy spun around,

Moments later, laughter pierced the howling wind. The man looked behind him to see two shadows, hand in hand, walking down to the lake. The two of them were in their twenties. The man was thin, but tall. His face was chiseled, and his soft expression was an antithetical painting to its canvas’ nature. The girl’s scarlet hair stood out from her black coat and the monochrome background. She was smaller than him, unable to surpass him even on tip-toes.

“Isn’t this where you took me for our first date?” the girl asked, “It looks so different than before.”

“Of course it’s different, silly! We came here during the summer,” he joked. “What did you expect?”

“Not like that. They took down the lifeguard chair. And the swings too,” she said. “Why did they take down the swings? I loved those!”

49

“I guess. What should we have for dinner?’ the man asked.

She smirked as they walked back through the driving snow, disappearing into the evening.

After a few minutes had passed, an older couple walked down onto the lake with their two sons. The father wore an old, gilded locket, evident by the years of wear that reduced the shiny gold finish to the cold iron beneath it. It was swinging inbetween the two halves of his opened coat, mostly due to the wind.

“Hey Dad!” cried the younger son, who looked about 10 years old. “Can we go ice-fishing tonight?”

“Not tonight, bud,” the father yelled over the wind. “We came here for someone else, remember?” The son’s face became cold as he heard his father’s words.

“But…” “No buts, we came here for him. And I promised that I would do this for him if he didn’t get the chance to do it himself.”

“It’s all right. We can still make snow angels.”

“But why? It’s not as fun as the swings.”

“Oh come on, It’ll be fun. Just give it a chance!”

“Fine…” He spun her around; she fell back into the snow and unenthusiastically made a snow angel.

“Do you know why I brought you back here?” he asked, a serious expression replacing the previously gleeful and carefree one.

“Not… really. I thought you just wanted to come here to make snow angels,” she joked.

“Not exactly. Get up.” She sat up, the snow still in her hair.

“Okay. Why exactly did you want-” She turned around to see the man kneeling, something in his hands.

“Now, this might sound crazy, but--” It was a ring, a rather simple ring, a silver band with gold inlaying, holding a small, sparkling diamond.

“Yes! For God’s sake, yes!” He stood up as she threw her arms around him and kissed him. There were tears streaming from her eyes. “I wondered why we were coming back here.”

“Well what did you expect? I had to add some hint of sentiment to make sure you said yes.”

“Well what did you expect me to say?” she giggled. He shrugged in reply. “C’mon, it’s getting late. We should get back home.”

All artwork by Sarah Wells (11) 50

“Honey,” interrupted the wife, “are you sure you don’t want to leave them in the car for this?” She was a petite woman, with strands of gray in her red hair.

“No, he wanted them to be here for this too.” The father sat himself down in the snow, lay back, and waved his arms and legs back and forth, making an imprint in the snow. He then took the locket he was wearing and opened it. It showed the picture of a boy in his twenties, donning an army uniform beside his mother and father. There were two small children in front of him, gleefully unaware of the camera taking the last family photo they would ever have together. The father got up, put his hat over his heart, and began to speak. “Henry, you were my firstborn. You were the light of my life, and my proudest achievement.” His voice began to waver, but he continued on. “No matter where you went, how sad you were, how bad things got, you always went through it with a smile.

I learned so much from you, and I hope you got a lot back from us. We’ll miss you, buddy, but tell St. Peter that your old man sends him his best.” He stepped back, in tears.

“When those two bullies put gum in my hair, you shaved your head with me so I wouldn’t stand out.”

“You gave me an ice pack and helped me home after I fell on my bike.”

“I just hope you can say hi to the angels for us.”

“And to tell them that we wanna make sure that Spot made it, too.”

“Also, Sparky misses you, but he doesn’t get that you won’t be coming home again.”

“But we’ll keep making sure that he’s all right. I started walking him now and she’s been feeding him.”

“We love you, big brother.” The words, even in the storm, echoed across the lake. The two children ran back to the parents, and hugged them.“C’mon, let’s go home,” said the father. “I think that Sparky needs to be fed again.” He smiled, walking his family back through the snow.

After they left, the man got up and looked at the snow on the beach. Numerous sets of footprints led to four different snow angels. The footprints began near the same place, diverged to make their own angels, and then returned by the same path. It was almost dark out, and the night was only getting colder. The man, instead of turning around, walked over to the snow angels, lay down, and began making another.

He felt the pain of his back as he slowly lowered himself into the fluffy white snow. His weak arms and legs could barely form a snow angel, but after the course of a minute, there sat a fifth angel in the snow. When getting back up, however, he experienced no trouble, no pain. It was no longer cold, either.

Next, the mother stepped up to the imprint and the locket. “Baby, you were the most beautiful person I have ever He looked down, and there sat his body, lifeless, but known. You cared so much, even for the little things. There was peaceful, in the snow. However, no matter how hard he looked, he could not see the other four snow angels that had been one time where you put a frog that the other kids were made that night. He knew exactly what had happened to him. playing with back in the lake because you said you wanted As he closed his eyes, he smiled, whispering, “I promised I’d it to be happy too. I hope that you’ll always know that you made me, your father, your brother, and your sister so happy. come home eventually, old friend.” The world faded from view as he stood in an endless void. However, this perfect Say hi to Spot, too. I bet he really misses you.” The mother serenity was soon interrupted by the formation of a set of stepped back. She buried her head in her husband’s arms. grand, wooden doors. He threw them open, finding himself in As they held each other’s hand, the two children stepped front of a set of huge gates, a grandiose utopia sitting just up together. behind them. A figure approached from his left, smiled, and “Henry,” the boy said. said, “It’s about time you showed up here. Henry told me that “You were our best friend,” the girl followed. you sent your best regards.”

“No matter how bad things got for us, you were always there.”

As he closed his eyes, he smiled, whispering, “I promised I’d come home eventually, old friend.”

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Haiku Lukas Huska (10)

Oh how would it be If I were an ancient tree Would I know more then?

Grandpa has no hair Old yeller is all hairy Both old quite scary I wish I could fly, But I am trapped in the earth, My roots dug down deep.

Oh no there is snow Just October get your boots Shorts I miss you so!

Fall leaves and leaves fall, A bonfire is a good fire, See and smell the smoke.

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Gone fishin’ I am, Goin’ ta get the big one, Hook, line, and sinker.

Artwork by Kinsey Kessel (11) 53

TIME Elizabeth Skiera (10)

I wish I had more time The sun keeps running The world keeps adding Every day is the only one The only time I’ll see that sun Watch the birds as they live and fly Watch them as the fall and die Mountains push up growing tall Those same mountains crack and fall Everything has a clock Running as goes tick tock I wish When those run Iouthad more time They break.TheDosun youkeeps doubt?running The world keeps adding Mine is breaking Every day is the only one Mine is cracking timetime I’ll see that sun I wish The I hadonlymore Watch the birds as they live and fly Watch them as they fall and die Mountains push up growing tall Those same mountains crack and fall Everything has a clock Running as it goes tick tock When those run out They break. Do you doubt?

Mine is breaking Mine is cracking I wish I had more time Artwork by Chase Korb (9) 54

Can I be?

Chris Imholte (11)

Hey, I am here again, On my knees wishing.

I have been left useless, Crushed below all things.

I cannot quite seem to Escape this nightmare.

Everything I see transforms, To images of you.

I step into your place, Where papers now lay.

It always hits me hard, How you are gone now.

I run things in my head; They pass by quickly.

They make me question things: How I struggle now.

Shooting stars pass overhead; I think I see you.

I believe that one day, We will reconnect.

Until that humbling hour, I aim to be the man You wished of me.

Artwork by Maggie Sanders (10) 55

My Fairytale Sarah Wells (11)

Sometimes I wish that I could write A fairytale of my own life.

Sometimes I wish that I could light My grey despair and endless strife.

I am no damsel in distress My tower has no doors to see My hair is shoulder length at best My friend is more advanced than me.

Sometimes I wish that I could reap The prince to sweep my feet away.

Sometimes I wish that I could keep The friend I wish would always stay.

I’ve never spun a spinning wheel To prick my finger on the spool And many apples have I peeled But no one wants me dead to rule.

But even as I wish for all, I know I do not hold my pen That writes my every rise and fall And tells my story start to end.

My fairytale is not complete But now I wish I knew the end.

I wish that I could take a seat And see where my story would wend.

If only I could find the nerve To help unravel fate’s long thread That weaves about with twist and curve With fates by mortals can’t be read.

I wish I had a fairytale, A happy ending without doubt Adventures waiting, ships to sail, Far off kingdoms to learn about.

I wish I could unlock my tale, But maybe I am not the one To start a quest or hoist a sail.

Perhaps my happy ending’s none.

But what is joy without a gale?

And what is love without a tear?

So I will take my unknown trail Into the darkness and the clear.

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Artwork by Gina Moran (12) 57

Lady in Waiting Grace Flynn (11)

Always second best, Always a beat behind her.

“Second is just the first loser” My father’s subtle reminder.

Oh, how she moves with ease And unattainable grace!

I envy her clever humor, Her intellect, her beautiful face.

Hair like a fine silk cloth, Voice like a waterfall.

She is all that I want to be.

She is beloved by all.

But I am no one’s favorite.

My skills are put to shame, And as I walk behind her, I catch the excess fame.

But I will not complain.

No, I must be serene.

It’s not such a bad way to live, A step behind the queen.

Artwork by Lila Darragh (10) 58

Dark Matter Sarah Wells (11)

Up in the universe There is nothing.

There is a dark swirling abyss Of nothing.

The world lies suspended In a giant bath Of nothing.

Can you measure it?

Can you understand it?

It is nothing and yet It is something.

Something that is around us every day.

I am a piece of Dark matter.

I am nothing and yet I am something.

I am irrelevant and yet Sometimes I am the duct tape Of the universe.

Sometimes, we’re all dark matter.

A little bit of nothing, a little bit of something Holding the universe together. Â Â

Artwork by Meghan Cassidy (12) 59

The 2018 issue of The Wayfarer, volume XXXIII, was typeset, and the layouts were produced using Adobe InDesign Creative Suite 3 and Adobe Photoshop Creative Suite 3. The Wayfarer uses the Gill Sans MT Condensed font family for copy. The Times New Roman font family is used for bylines. “Voice of the Sun� uses both Gill Sans and Times New Roman Font Families. Various fonts were used for titles and pull quotes. Thysse Printing Service was responsible for printing 200 copies of The Wayfarer.

Past and present issues of The Wayfarer can be found online at https://issuu.com/edgewoodhs/stacks.

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Mission Statement

Edgewood, a Catholic high school, educates the whole student for a life of learning, service, and personal responsibility through a rigorous academic curriculum that embraces the Sinsinawa Dominican values of Truth, Compassion, Justice, Community, and Partnership.

Thank You

The Wayfarer Staff expresses its gratitude to ENCORE, donors dedicated to promoting the Fine Arts at Edgewood High School.

Published by the students of Edgewood High School of the Sacred Heart 2219 Monroe Street Madison, WI 53711 www.edgewoodhs.org Volume XXXIII Spring 2018