Everyone Goes Through Something…
ELA 9 / NEW DESIGN HIGH SCHOOL / 350 Grand St. / NYC 10002
John Istel, ELA Teacher / Dr. Scott Conti, Principal
Student Editorial: Byron McArthur, Image Selection Francesca Henry, Layout
April 2015
Everyone Goes Through Something
Selected Memoirs of Cohort 4
I Didn’t Do Anything Wrong…
by Kevin Wilson
I have plenty of memories of me being in trouble whether I did it or not. I always took the blame because it was the believable that I did it because I stayed in trouble and never learned my lesson.
One of the most memorable incidents is the time when I got in trouble because of my sister taking me to the sprinklers after school. I was in 3rd grade; she was in the 5th grade. It was a sunny-spring day that was overly hot. My mom called my sister and told her to take us straight home. I didn’t know my mom told her that, and she decided to be a rebel. So she took me to the sprinklers and we had a lot of fun.
We arrived home after an hour and a half to find my mom home, waiting, washing dishes. She calmly said, “I coulda sworn I said come straight home Nicole and Kevin.”
To which I replied,”Ma, Coco told me it was okay, that you wasn’t going to be home yet, so we would be fine. So in a way I didn’t do anything wrong.”
Apparently I was talking back so my mom made us take a shower to wash up from the sprinklers. She was waiting with the belt for us to come out of the shower. It was probably one of the worst whippings in the maybe 5 or 6 that I’ve had in my life.
The Maroon Colored Van
by Lily Dionisio
I laughed at something my cousin said. We were sitting outside on the picnic table, drawing and just enjoying the weather. My house was on a dead end street, so it was a quiet neighborhood. I looked across the street and saw it. There was a maroon colored van parked there. The backseat window was slightly open, and there was a man sitting there, staring at us. My laughter died down, and the peaceful silence suddenly turned eerie. I nudged my cousin and she looked up at me in confusion.
“There’s a guy staring at us from across the street,” I mumbled, trying not to make it obvious that I had noticed him.
Her confused expression turned into a slightly shocked one as her eyes flickered across the street.
“That’s...creepy,” she whispered.
We stayed quiet, not having the feeling of joking around anymore. We decided to go inside and tell my dad.
“If you’re going to go back outside, just be careful,” he said.
After an hour, the man suddenly walked out of the car, and my cousin and I tensed. But the man only moved to the front seat, started the car, and drove away.
“Why would he sit in the backseat for an hour, then get up and just drive away?” my cousin exclaimed once he was out of sight.
“I don’t know…”
A few days later, we were outside again, hanging out with our friend, Krianne. We were just about to go to the deli a few blocks away. I looked around and, once again, saw the eerie maroon van parked on our side of the street, near the corner. In the backseat, a shadow was visible, and I widened my eyes.
“Lili, there’s the van again!” I whispered in panic. She turned around and stared at it for a few seconds, then turned to me with a scared expression. Krianne looked at us both in confusion.
“What are you talking about?” she asked cautiously. We explained to her what happened a few days ago. I sighed as I realized something. “We’re going to have to walk past it since we’re going to the store…”
“I guess we’ll just have to walk past it and see what happens,” Lili said. We walked, getting closer and closer to the van, the tension rising. We walked right past it, and just when we thought nothing would happen, we heard the car door unlock. By instinct, I let out a scream, and we all ran and turned the corner.
“Okay what just happened?!” Lili panted.
“He unlocked the door, right when we walked past him. Don’t tell me he’s not trying to kidnap us!” I exclaimed. “And why would he just sit in the backseat of his car?” My thoughts were all over the place.
“I don’t know guys...Let’s just go,” Krianne said, as we made our way to the deli.
There were a few other times after that incident when I saw the maroon van parked somewhere near our house, and the man sitting in the backseat. My family was already aware of it and were keeping a close eye. However, I stopped seeing it. It was gone, and we had nothing to worry about anymore. I just wonder why that man was watching us, and I still get paranoid when I see a maroon colored van.
Be Brave & Face It!
by Byron McArthur
We always took pictures of each other.
There was this one time when I had a crush on this girl since the 6th grade. She was really funny, nice, pretty, and very helpful. I was so afraid to ask her out. For three years, I kept it to myself. I had conversations with her best friend and conversations with mine.
“Ask her out!” They both enthusiastically persuaded me to do it. But I was too nervous. My palms were sweating and my body was heating like a microwave.
Finally, we got to 8th grade and we were leaving middle school soon to go to high school. So for about two days, I was planning on what I was going do, and I instantly came up with a conclusion. My mind was made up and I wanted to tell her. So one Sunday night, I told her how I felt all this time about her and I asked her out over a text message.
It wasn’t that easy sending it to her. My heart was pounding like someone punching a punching bag over and over. It actually took me about twenty minutes just to send that message and took me like two hours to write a strong paragraph showing that I really did like her. At last, I sent it and right away the message was seen.
“Byron, I’ve felt the same way, but I’ve been in a relationship for 2 days now,” she responded.
I guess after all I should’ve made a quicker move, but I was happy for her. This memory is important to me because it made me face one of my fears telling my crush how I feel about them. That was one sign of bravery for me.
The Special Can of Soup on April 3rd
by Francesca Henry
They always say that it is the thought that counts, but not the gift. I strongly agree with that saying, but certain people just don’t make the effort at all. For example, my grandmother. The day of my twelfth birthday was the worst because of my grandmother’s terrible gift giving efforts.
By seven o’clock almost everyone was there because Haitians love being late. I had on my jeans and sneakers and was waiting for the actual party to start, where everyone was dancing, eating, and having fun. After a while everyone arrived including my grandmother and then the party started. Around 10:30, my mother happily announced, “IT IS TIME FOR EVERYONE TO SING HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE BIRTHDAY GIRL!”
Everyone started singing, “Happy birthday, Franny, happy birthday to you.”
I had a great big grin on my face standing in front of the chocolate ice cream cake.
After all the happy birthdays and cutting the birthday cake my mother once again made another announcement. She walked up to the front of the room and said, “Francesca, come sit in this chair and everyone please come and give the birthday girl her gift so that she opens it in front of you all.” My mother then leaned in and whispered into my ear, “Even if you don’t like it, just smile and show no emotions.”
After saying this, people approached me with gifts and gave them to me. I got plenty of things: shoes, money, clothes, and electronics. Then it was my grandmother’s
turn. She took slow and steady steps towards me. In her hands she held a small box wrapped in a light purple wrapping paper. I was really excited.
“I hope you enjoy your gift, Franny,” she said, as she handed me the box. I took my time unwrapping. Then I saw it, the can of soup--a Campbell’s chicken noodle soup can, to be precise. I was devastated, crushed, traumatized. I felt like someone ripped my heart out of my chest and crushed it.
I looked up and smiled, “Thanks, Grandma. I love it.”
“I knew you would. I thought that you would like to try my favorite soup once in your life,” she said with a grin on her wrinkly face.
After the party and everyone went home, I went straight to my room. Till this day, my grandmother still gives crappy gifts from diaries to headphones. But it’s okay. At least she’s giving something. Now, every time my grandmother has a gift for me, my hopes never go up.
Dry, Crusty, and Bloody
by Maylennia Turner
The air became thin and cold. I could see so many colors begin to appear out of nowhere. There were multiple colors that consistently fluctuated throughout the air-purple, green, and blue. Then suddenly all the colors disappeared and were replaced with a thick blanket of black that surrounded me.
Right at that moment, for some strange reason, there was a huge force that pulled my body and made me feel lighter. It felt as if gravity somehow became aggressively angry while it was slowly putting pressure on my chest. As my chest began to collapse, a loud thud echoed throughout the darkness. Then a brisk cold sensation lingered in the dark. But once the cold sensation came, it progressed on throughout the rest of my body, going towards my arms, legs, knees… and my head.
Instead of being asleep in my top bunk, I slowly opened my eyes to a cold tile floor, face down. All at once I was struck with a pain towards the upper right side of my head that ached from the front to the back. As I tried my best to get up, the joints of my knees and upper shoulders began to hurt. They didn’t flow like they should have. They cranked back like the sound of a roller coaster when it inches up the tracks.
I managed to raise my head, which became heavily heated from the pain. Luckily, when I raised my head, the first person I saw was my father rushing towards me to get me off the ground. Everything happened too fast. My parents got a cab to a hospital. But after all my bawling and wailing, my only priority was to get rid of the dry, crusty blood that leaked from my brow to my chin, but my mother stopped me.
We didn’t wait too long before a doctor examined my cut. As I was listening to the doctor, she told my parents, “Well, at the looks of it, your daughter will need “STITCHES.” Automatically I got scared and the metal table I’d been sitting on got colder. Reality didn’t start to sink in until the doctor had me lay down on my back while my head was elevated and cushioned. She put a white paper over my face, hovered a light over my cut and began stitching.
From the moment the needle pierced my skin, it burned, along with whatever thread-like material was being dragged through to seal the cut. I wailed a huge “OUCH” and began crying. Several people had to hold me down. I had at least four people holding down my legs and two people on both my arms. All I could do was promise the doctor I wouldn’t move, jerk, or throw my body around.
But of course that was a lie. After she was done, the stitches felt very tight and stiff when I would move my eyebrow. As I returned home my parents tried their best to keep me away from mirrors and told me not to look into them. I got curious and did. There was a huge white patch that covered a good half of my forehead. Surprisingly I didn’t cry…. I just stared at the patch and back at myself. From when I was five years old to this day, the scar remains and will for the rest of my life.
Psychological Resilience
by Asia Velez
It happened on a spring day in 2005. I woke up that morning along side my older brother. It felt like a normal day. My brother and I got up and made a bowl of Fruity Pebbles, and watched Saturday cartoons until I heard my mother’s yell, echoing from her room. My parents always had arguments, but this time I could tell it was serious. I heard another person’s recognizable voice. I realized it was my brother’s aunt. What was going on? Why was my aunt there? What were they arguing about?
Me and my brother left our cereal at the table to eavesdrop on the loud conversation. Then the conversation grew louder as we heard footsteps and my mother came closer to the door. We quickly jolted back away as my mother opened and closed it behind her, and ran past me and my brother to the bathroom to get a bucket, as if we didn’t exist.
At this point I was very confused. She ran back with the bucket, and as she opened the door I saw my brother’s aunt in the bedroom vomiting. She had a dress with the straps loose, her hair looked wild, and she looked as if she was crying.
“Was she sick?” I asked my brother. He just replied with a shrug. I heard what sounded like the closet door opening and closing, then drawers being opened and slammed. Then I heard a garbage bag.
I found the courage to open the door and sneak a peek at what was going on. I saw my father with only underwear and a garbage bag with all of his clothing and sneakers, and my mother bawling in tears as she threw
the things he bought her at him, telling him things like “LEAVE MY LIFE,” and curse words like “FUCK YOU, YOU PIECE OF SHIT.”
I opened the door wide. Me and my brother standing beside the door. When my mother realized me and my brother were watching, she stopped cursing and throwing things. Me and my brother rushed to get mommy tissues, and then sat in the living room and decided to watch cartoons and put the volume to the highest in hopes to drown out all of the yelling. My father got dressed and took the garbage bags into the living room.
My mother followed him and they stood right in front of the TV and argued. I cupped my hands over my ears and started yelling. I closed my eyes in hopes this was just a bad dream I would be able to wake up to.
The yells stopped, so I stopped yelling. I heard the SLAM of the front door and uncupped my ears and opened my eyes. My mother walked towards the front door and yelled and screamed and cried while taking her ring off of her finger and throwing it at the door. She sunk until she sat on the floor, and me and my brother sat beside her.
The only words I could gather after watching the scene unfold was “Is Daddy coming back?” I already knew the answer but I decided to ask anyway.
My mother whispered in between cries, “I don’t know baby. I don’t know.”
I put my head onto her chest as she kissed my forehead, then looked at my older brother and said, “When you get older, you better treat women right.” When my mother said that I had understood what happened. Her words stuck inside of my brain like a post it note reminder stuck to a middle-schooler’s locker.
After that day I didn’t see my father again for a year. He showed up to my 6th birthday party and a couple months later took my mother to court in order to be able to see me every 2 weeks. My father has a tendency to disappear and come back to take my mother to court to win custody of me. He’s been trying for 13 years and now I live with him. I don’t like talking to him about my mother or about why he cheated on her with my brother’s aunt, but that day always stays in the back of my mind.
The Moment of Truth
by Kevin Chen
Handball is a very competitive sport. This is a game that I can’t get enough of. Whenever I go to the park, many people show up and play in the morning until the sun goes down.
I had been playing handball for 3 years when I asked my friend Erik, “I have been playing handball for a long time and I want to test how good am I.”
He told me, “Well, if you want to, there is a handball tournament coming up at Bay 8th park next week. It’s a doubles game, meaning you will need a partner.”
I went with my friend to enter. A week passed and we went to the tournament in a huge park full of excited, joyful people playing sports: tennis, basketball, handball, and soccer, with a huge field of grass in front of streets and housing around.
A sound has caught my attention. A fast speed pace with people hitting the ball with all they got with their hands. Moving to one side of the court to the other side of the court. Yes, a handball game is going on. I step near the courts and see people that I had played before. Before the tournament starts, we wait until they make the tournament bracket. “You want to warm up by playing some before the game starts,” I whisper.
After a while, they call everyone over telling us the tournament bracket has been finished. I look at it and see our name is up first. A scorekeeper told us the rules, “Whichever team scores up to 21, wins the match and gets to advance to next round.”
The people we were playing came up to greet us. I noticed they were coming. I couldn’t move and my legs started trembling. They were tall and big. They looked over 6 feet tall.
“H-H-Hi! H-Hope we can have a nice day. I mean game,” I said.
The scorekeeper got a quarter to see who goes first. “Heads or Tails,” he announced. I told him “heads.”
The quarter landed heads up, so we got to serve first. The game began and the ball kept going back and forth and so did we. We were running all over the court. From one end to the other. As we played, I could hear all the screaming and cheering happening around me. To me, this game was intense.
As the game continued, I heard the scorekeeper announce: “20 serving 20.”
I got so caught in the game that I lost track of the points. My heart started to pound faster. I started to sweat even more than I was before. My legs trembled as I screamed at my friend, “This is the last chance. It’s all or nothing.”
It was their turn to serve the ball, and I returned it to them. They countered by hitting the ball lower than my ankles. I tried to save the ball, but couldn’t.
“That’s game. We have our winners,” the scorekeeper shouted, “21-20.”
I heard the scorekeeper from my knees. I went home quietly, kicking an Arizona bottle on the ground. That game was important to me because it was a test to see if I was good enough for tournaments. At the end, I learned that I was not good enough.
Psycho Bird Causing Mayhem!
by Justin Santana
I remember my first encounter with a wild bird. It was in Gatorland where people actually go pay money to look at animals they can see in their backyard, which is dumb, but I was exhilarated. I couldn’t wait to go to Gatorland so I just kept looking at the clock, which made it seem like time was frozen and it wasn’t going to move anymore.
At the time, I was only in 6th grade and I was a city boy who moved out of New York to Florida. I was not used to being in a state that’s basically a weird, huge zoo that people live in. I thought it was a good idea to go to a zoo, so I asked my Grandfather, “Can we go to Gatorland?”
“Ask your grandma,” he said. His face was full of salami and mangu so I went to my grandmother’s room and asked her.
“Ma, can we go to Gatorland?”
“Yeah, of course. When you clean your room, ” she responded. I ran so fast to my room that it seemed like I was running from the police and started to pick up the controllers from the floor, my bookbag, and clothes. After that I vacuumed the carpet and presented my room to my grandma.
“Look, Mommy, all clean.”
“Boy, this room ain’t clean. This is a half-ass job, but get dressed and we’ll go at 2:00,” she said.
So I got dressed and started waiting and waiting and looking at the clock and pacing back and forth. I was just a little too excited and I couldn’t stay still.
Then comes the good part: the drive towards Gatorland. I’m looking out the window and all I see are roads and trees. When we get to Gatorland I see a huge gator mouth as the door and there are trees and sidewalks instead of road.
When we get inside, the first thing I spot is this bird. It wasn’t any ordinary bird, it was a big bird with a long neck, gray feathers, a pointy beak, and a type of king attitude. You can tell by the way it was standing.
It was kind of my height, so I wanted to go look at it and apparently you can pet the animals, so I asked and started talking to one of the workers.
“Can I pet it?”
“Give it a snack first,” he said.
“It doesn’t bite, right?”
“No, trust me, she’s a good birdy.”
So I grab a snack and try to give it to the bird. Instead of being grateful and taking it, it starts flapping its wings with so much force it felt like a hurricane and then all I remember is falling to the floor because it had knocked me down. I heard a scream and when I get up the bird is running wild around the zoo and starts running towards me, so I start to book it. I’m over here getting low and the bird runs up on me and starts to peck at me and it feels like I was getting shot with a paintball gun. So I turned around and hit it and ran until the worker grabbed it.
Then I told the worker, “What the fuck is wrong with you!”
“What you mean?” he replied.
“YOU LIED TO ME!”
Then I started to curse at him and the pain doubled! I got hit in the back of my head and when I looked back, it was my grandma.
“CONJO! Stop cursing like that. You’re a little boy! Let’s go!”
So basically the life story is birds are ungrateful and brutal. Don’t offer them food. And don’t curse around grandparents, even for a good cause.
What Goes Around Comes Around
by Emani Knight
I believe the saying, “What goes around comes around.”
“Leave me alone,” the girl yelled. “I’m telling on you.”
When I was in the K-3 grade I would always bully this girl. I would never know why. I felt since my brother would mess with me everyday, I would go to school and return that on to someone else. I didn’t only bully her; I would bully other people. But I felt this one would be important.
One day I came to school with my dark blue school skirt with my yellow polo school shirt, which I hated. But that day I remember her walking in to class. She said, “Good Morning” to the teacher.
I just yelled out, “Shut up, nobody cares.”
She looked at me, pulled out her chair and sat down. Her table was so close to mine. So that’s what made me mess with her more. Class started and I looked at her and just started calling her so many names. “African booty scratcher,” I said. “You’re ugly, nobody likes you. You’re dumb.”
I would keep going until the teacher heard me and asked me to stop or until she would say something back to me. She put up her hand. The teacher called on her.
“Can you tell Emani to stop calling me names?” the girl said sadly.
The teacher asked, but of course I didn’t listen.
Lunch time came. The boys and girls would never go to lunch together. That’s how my school had it. The boys would go to the lunch room and eat first. The girls would go outside and play first. I was outside with my friends and I saw her. I put my coat down, turned her way, got in my running mode and started running after her.
“Come here,” I yelled. “I have to ask you something.”
“NO! Leave me alone,” she yelled as she ran from me.
I got up to her, grabbed her, and threw her to the floor as hard as I could because I was weak. She was heavy. When she fell, I laughed of course. Her leg was bleeding. She got up, threw her coat on the floor, her face got so red and I heard so much air come out her nose because she took a big deep breath.
“I...TOLD...YOU...TO...LEAVE...ME...ALONE!” she yelled too loud. The other kids heard her. She came up to me and we fought. The teachers who were outside watching us came and broke it up. Of course, we got in trouble. I blamed everything on her. This guidance teacher I had made me realize that bullying someone was not nice. So after the school year was over I left the girl alone. I really wanted to fight her but as I got older I realized bullying wasn’t nice. Thanks to my guidance teacher.
Come 4th grade. Guess what? That same girl I bullied, bullied me. I know, you’re like, really? Yes, she bullied me. In the middle of 3rd grade, I stopped bullying people and became the nicest person in the world to students (not the teachers). I forgot how to even bully someone by the time I got to 4th. At that time she was now in the 5th grade because I got left back. So this is how it went...
I know it was a rainy day because in my elementary school we would run around for lunch in some space we had in another school. I was running already and she stopped me.
“Hi, Emani,” she said. “You know I don’t like you, right?”
“Why?” I said confusion.
“Remember when you used to bully me?”
Before I could even say the next word, she pushed me to the floor and pulled my hair. To be honest I forgot that I even bullied her. I got up, there was water in my eyes and my eyes got red. I just felt drops coming down my face onto my shirt. I ran to the bathroom, sat on the toilet and cried. It turned out that she ran behind me and as I was crying, I heard her laughing. It made me cry even more. I didn’t know what I should’ve done. So I just cried.
“That’s what you”.... The girl didn’t continue.
“Girls, get out of the bathroom and stop playing in there,” the teacher said as she cut the girl off.
The girl ran out of the bathroom and I stayed until I looked like I wasn’t crying from the start. A couple of days later, I asked my teacher if I could go to the bathroom. When I got to the first floor, guess who was there? The girl. My heart started beating so fast, and I started to shake. I thought after that day she wasn’t going to mess with me no more because she made me cry already. But I was still scared.
So when I walked in the bathroom, she followed. She pushed me into the garbage. There were no words. She just got close to me and pushed. I got up and started running. I ran so fast to my guidance teacher that it felt like the air was ripping my shirt off me.
I cried and told her everything that happened. The next period all three of us were in the room together. I couldn’t look the girl in the face because I was too scared. The guidance teacher called the mother and told her what her daughter had done. After that day she never messed with me again. I’m guessing she got in trouble by her mother. When the school year was over, I was so excited to be going to the 5th grade. I knew the girl couldn’t mess with me anymore because she had to go to a different school for the start of 6th grade.
To this day I know who the girl is. Just a year ago she moved into my building. I thought this was so funny and cool because now that I’m not scared of her I thought it was a good time to mess with her again. She lives on my cousin’s floor. So when I go to my cousin’s house, most of the time she would be in the hallway with her “boyfriend.” I’m guessing he is. So I would always look at her so hard and say things: “You always in the hallway, being a little THOT,” I would say. I would always say whatever came to mind. I would say I didn’t care.
Then one day she saw me and said I looked nice. So I thought maybe she wants to be my friend. To this day, when we see each other, we say Hi and Bye. That’s it. I’m still being fake with it because I still don’t like the girl. And I still talk shit about her.
First Easy Win
by Alexis Williams
“Get out the party. I wanna fight.”
I heard this line over and over for an hour straight. All I thought of is why does she wanna fight me. A short, little, in between thick and fat girl wanted to fight me for no apparent reason. She was known as MyaD, but her real name is Lamya.
“I came to the party to have a good time not fight,” I told her.
“I don’t care. Fight me!” she responds.
I sucked my teeth because I was so annoyed. I was with my ex-best friend Sironne and my friend Helena. It was about 12 a.m. and my friends and I were getting ready to leave. I didn’t want to fight because I’ve never been in a fight before and I didn’t want to fight now. I eventually ran out the house and down the stairs. I felt relieved for a second or two, but she was following me. She ran up to me and I just knew I had to fight her to get over it.
“Sironne, hold my stuff,” I said. Sironne didn’t say a word and grabbed my jacket and phone. I turned around and automatically started fighting. My friends started yelling, “Yeah Alexis! Smoke her! Uppercut! Knee her!” Lamya and I just stood there holding each other’s hair until I kneed her in her face. Everyone started laughing and screaming, “Ohhhhhh, she broke your shit Mya.”
My friends broke up the fight, but Lamya wanted to fight again. I had to be home at 1 a.m. and she still wanted to fight me. I started walking away and she hit me from the
back. We then started fighting again. I was tired and out of breath. A cute, tall, and lightskinned boy everyone known as Lito, broke up the fight.
“Lito, move,” Lamya said to him and tried to swing at me.
“Touch her Mya and on my mother, I’m going to deck you.”
Lamya looked at him in his face, put on her jacket, and walked away. I gave Lito a look that said, “Thank you.”
From that day on, everyone walked up to me and said, “Alexis, you smoked her.” I just laugh and walk away.
Worst Feeling Ever
by Damaris Caceres
“Be quiet,” somebody would say. “We don’t want anybody hearing us.” All I could think was, OMG if I get caught, I’m going to be in so much trouble. What will my mom say? How will people look at me? All these questions rolling through my mind as Hassan, a tall, dark-skinned chubby boy with a black durag and a pair of Jordans, is rolling up.
It all started when I got out of school and Hassan was standing in front of the gates to pick me up. I was with Cristal and we were calmly walking to his block. About two more people tagged along that I didn’t know. Ended up being 5 of us.
Hassan had told me we had to go cop weed. Of course, I was scared out my mind! Walking into a tall set of brown buildings with silver doors, a broken window and a scent that wasn’t pleasant isn’t usually my thing. He met the “dealer” on the 5th floor of the building.
Pacing out of the building carrying weed was intense because in this neighborhood there were always cops around. The people I was with kept joking around about how if a cop stopped us, they’re giving the weed to me. Only because I looked innocent.
Finally we reached Hassan’s building and went up through the staircase. Since we kept talking, he reminded us we had to be quiet. He finished rolling and lit up the blunt. Cristal was next to me the whole time because she didn’t trust them. The blunt went around and it came to me. I inhaled it and immediately started coughing. It tasted so disgusting. Since it was my first time, they kept telling me, “Let it get to your chest” and “Don’t blow it out too fast.” I passed it to Cristal, who started coughing as well.
So now Cristal and I were coughing uncontrollably and the others got mad. They kept shouting to shut up. The blunt came to me again. It was only a little piece left because everyone else took it. I grabbed it and burned my finger. One of the girls helped me out though. But when I went to inhale, it got stuck to my lip. “Get it off! Get it off!” I shrieked. I was so scared because it was burning my lip. With the help of my nails, I took
it off. Everyone was laughing at me, joking around about how I burned my finger and all.
Cristal and I talked about how disgusting that was. The taste didn’t leave my mouth no matter what I ate. “I’m never doing this again,” I thought. We had left right after that because a man wanted to walk down the steps.
We went outside, the breeze felt good. I didn’t get high that day and neither did Cristal. The boys were though.
Leave Him Alone
by Jaiden Rodriguez
One day a group of friends and I were hanging out together.
In our school there was this kid named Adam, who was always quiet and never really talked to anyone except for his little friends. One day me and my friends saw Adam walking home alone, and my friends started conversing without me.
“What are you guys talking about?” I asked.
“Hold up bro,” Chris responded.
“ ‘Ight bro, we are going to go smack around little Adam,” Darrian pronounced.
“For what?” I asked.
“I don’t know, bro. He just got a face you wanna smack around,” Greg giggled.
So my friends hopped off the bench we had been hanging out on and ran to Adam. They all surrounded Adam and started pushing him around and pressing him. Adam just put his head down and kept saying “Stop.” I felt so bad for the kid, he was so small and had no way of protecting himself.
So I made the biggest choice of my life. I ran to my friends and started to pull them away from Adam.
“What are you doing?” Chris asked.
“ Leave him alone,” I responded.
“So your this is your new best friend now,” Greg mocked.
“We off this,” Darrian shouted.
As my old friends walked off I started to help Adam get up. “Thanks,” Adam whispered.
I walked away feeling good about myself that day. Wow. What a day it was.
A Chipped Tooth, Busted Lip, and a Blind Eye
by Jacqueline Ambriz
I was seven and in the second grade. It was the middle of October. We had a new girl, America. She was fat with thick thighs and big cheeks and short hair. She was horrible to look at. Everybody became friends with her except for me and my friends Matthew, Natalie, Solomon and Wildliz. We barely liked when new people arrived and always made fun of them, especially America. But it got to a point where I actually felt a sense of guilt because of what I did to her. I winded up hurting her… literally.
Ms. Martinez, my teacher at the time, had lined us up to go to the bathroom. America was only shorter than me by a little, meaning she had to stand in front of me. The bathroom on our floor didn’t work so we went downstairs to the first floor. While we were on the line, I felt like showing how much I disliked America. I started badmouthing her to Matthew, knowing she could hear me. She turned around slowly and looked at me hoping to clarify that I was talking about her. “What you looking at fat bitch?” I asked with an attitude.
“You said my name,” she murmured.
“Well I was talking about you, not to you. Mind your business,” I said with even more attitude than before. She turned back around. I knew she was frightened by me, but I could have cared less back then because that’s exactly what I expected from her.
Once everybody used the bathroom, we went up the steps. While going up the steps, I was infuriated. My blood boiled at the fact that she turned around and had tried to confront me. So I decided to grab her foot while she was going up and tripped her. I laughed and laughed until I saw that she was gushing blood from her eye and mouth. I was horrified. I hadn’t known that she had her pencil in her hand. She ended up with bad vision from one eye (the right eye) and a busted lip with a chipped tooth. I was sorry but didn’t say a word.
I look back at it now and I know I will never do something like that again. I wish I could apologize for all the hurt I’ve caused to America. It still eats me up inside sometimes knowing I caused somebody actual scars. However, it does amaze me how she didn’t cry or scream.
In the long run, I learned to treat others the way I want to be treated.
The Mafia Heart with Green Eyes
by Bryana Santana
My heart had stopped beating. I punched my chest to start it again and the wet sound echoed throughout the bathroom. Water splashed behind me as my sister moved and came to sit next to me at the rim. We sat paralyzed, wide-eyed, heart pounding.
I stared, having no other choice but to look deep into the unholy and terrifying eyes that compelled me with such a force it made me shiver. Suddenly the water that had been running hot a moment before turned ice cold and my sister’s small and chubby arm wrapped around my own. She was on the brink of tears. I could feel a tear on my arm where she hid her face from whatever the figure was.
A man, black suit, fedora, black shadow-like face. I saw everything but the only thing that enraptured my gaze were the bottomless green eyes looking into my soul. They sent chills down my spine making me feel helpless against him. They were cold and held no emotion. I was sure that if this man had a choice he’d choose to kill without remorse and maybe for fun. Once I could rip my eyes away from his I saw his nails, long and terrifying.
At that age I never doubted the existence of things from other worlds that maybe we don’t know about. But at that very moment I didn’t want there to be. I closed my eyes firmly and opened them only to see him standing right where I last saw him.
Maybe he is real, I thought. Maybe he’s not an apparition. In that case it was even more terrifying that he was seeing my nude form. I covered myself with my arms and tried to keep Bridget behind me. By then she was crying because he wouldn’t go away.
Finally, I looked down at my sister catching her attention. Her small form shook with the force of her sobs. Poor thing didn’t know what to do. This was one of the rare
occasions I acted like a big sister towards Bridget. I usually just disregarded her and didn’t really speak to her much.
“Do you want to get out, Gigi?” I asked with a calm I was far from feeling. She nodded her head fiercely and whispered, “Who is he?”
“I don’t really know,” I replied uncertainly,” but I hope he goes away.”
I looked up slowly and realized the man we had seen was no longer there. For a moment I thought I had gone temporarily crazy and imagined the whole thing. If it weren’t for Bridget still pressed up against my arm, her four-year-old body shivering, I would have stuck with that conclusion. But we had both seen him. We had both seen him and felt the cold that came with him. Not until that thought came to mind, did I realize the water behind me had returned to the warm temperature we had left it on. As we washed up and practically ran out I felt my heart beat slow and go back to normal.
Bridget went crying to my mother and I was right behind her climbing onto my mom’s bed. My room seemed too dark and too lonely all of a sudden. We told her what happened while we clung to her.
She didn’t bat an eyelash as she said, “Pray.”
Confused I asked,” What will that do, Ma?”
“It’ll make everything feel better,” she stated matter-of-factly.
So we did just that. Bridget and I prayed with Mom right before bed and everything did feel a little better. I still didn’t want to go to my room, it still sounded like a dark and gloomy option, as opposed to sleeping in Mom’s bed.
Every time I think about that man it gives me chills. It disturbs me to think of what or who he was. Recently, I found out I wasn’t the only one to see him besides Bridget. I mentioned him to my brother’s girlfriend, who happens to live with us, and she said that she’d dreamt of those same green eyes.
“I know who you’re talking about,” she said.
“How do you know?” I asked, shivering at the thought. “I figured me and Bridget were the only ones who saw him.”
“Nah,” she answered. “Me and Joey had dreams about him.”
“Who is this dude, yo?” I wondered out loud. “He’s mad creepy.”
“Yeah, he probably died here or something,” she said indifferently.
“Yeah,” I replied and walked away.
I still wonder about him and it’s weird because it’s like he’s still here sometimes. That man creeps me out but sometimes I wonder who he was. I wonder what he was doing there. I believe that given the chance I’d investigate him thoroughly. Maybe I’ll see him again, though I’d rather not.
Behind the Wheel
by Jasmine Marmol
“Oh my god, what are you doing? Moreno, are you crazy?”
“Just let it be, you got this. Concentrate,” Moreno replied.
“No! We’re going to die tonight,” I screamed. “Stop! Help me! Do something! Ahh!”
I really thought that was the end of my beautiful vacation, but Moreno just kept saying, “You got this.”
Moreno is a Spanish word for a dark-skinned person, and the person I’m referring to is a boy about in his 20’s. He has the biggest teeth. You can see his teeth when he smiles from across the street. If it weren’t for my uncle giving him a job, I don’t know what he’d live on, but getting back to my uncle... that’s how I met him that same summer.
Summer of 2013 we got so close. I started having a great affection towards his funniness and kind heart. You’ll always--I mean ALWAYS--catch him wearing the same ripped, stained clothes. Everyday he’d look like a homeless person but the happiest one. If he got close to you he would smell like when you go to the station to fill up your car and all you smell is gasoline… yeah gasoline.
I don’t remember the day but it was nice out like any other regular day 88 degrees. The time was about 5 or 6 in the afternoon. It was getting a little dark, when the engine kept going straight and I was panicking not knowing what to do. The street was coming to an end. Some guys passed in a motorcycle right in front of us leading me to say, “MORENO! Turn this thing I swear I can’t!”
But all he kept saying was, “You got this.”
I honestly have no idea how to turn because my hands and legs were shaking and my heart was racing as fast as a horse being freed from his stall, but I had the concentration to turn somewhat slowly and carefully. Then the engine kept going.
“OH MY GOD. MORENO, DID YOU SEE THAT!??” Knowing the obvious answer because he was behind me the entire time.
“Yes I told you, you can do it.”
Another turn had to be made and the nerves and excitement all tangled up inside of me began to grow but once again I turned and felt as if I thrived something I had years in trying to. Denise, who was at the same corner where we had left here, was in front of the store looking furious and bemused at the same time, tapping her right foot on the floor, with her hand on her waist, and the other with the bag she had got from the store.
As soon as we got close enough to hear she shouted, “Are you guys crazy? I thought ya left me. I was thinking to myself, ‘What are these idiots doing?’”
“Didn’t you just see me?” I shouted. I got off the motorcycle, my legs feeling a little unfamiliar, without strength, but the urging of being restless made me jump up twice.
Denise smiled her pretty smile, black eyes and hair glittering from the light that was given from the store. That was the first time Denise and I laughed because of the crazy experience I had just gone through…. the first time I drove a motorcycle. You could just say it was a night of firsts!
What a Waste...
by Lea Delgado
It was a hot summer day in the middle of July. I was woken by a little blob of blur and shapes. I didn’t have my glasses on, so I couldn’t tell who was shaking me to wake up. I had to sleep in the living room because my two cousins were staying over. Maddie, short for Madison, is an extremely short little squirt who has extremely curly hair with a fading birthmark trailing down her forehead. Kay, short for Kaleigh, at the time was around my height and had mid-length straight hair with a button nose.
“Why won’t you wake up,” Maddie yelled into my ear. I didn’t even respond. I just fell off the couch with a thud. I reached for my glasses on the dusty tv stand. I patted around searching for my glasses with my weak eyes trying to open. Maddie was kicking me with her little feet.
“Are you up? Are you up? Wake up!”
Getting frustrated with Madison, I yelled, “What do you want? Can’t you see I’m looking for my glasses!”
“I’m hungry,” she responded while rubbing her stomach.
“What do you want me to do?” I asked her in a sarcastic tone.
“Make me eggs,” she said with her puppy eyes.
“Fine,” I responded.
We walked to the kitchen. I didn’t turn on the light because enough light was coming through the small window from the corner. I walked to the stove and opened the oven where my grandmother keeps the pots and pans because there is no space for it in the pantry. I grabbed a pan from inside the oven and placed it on the stove. I turned the knob on the stove to light the burner. I paced around the kitchen then sighed while opening the refrigerator door. I grabbed two eggs from the side of the refrigerator door, and the Country Crock butter. I grabbed a fork from one of the drawers and put butter on the pan. I put a lot of butter by mistake but I didn’t pay too much mind. I cracked the eggs and placed them into the pan.
Madison started messing with the pan and I told her, “Maddie stop messing with the pan. You’re going to get burned.”
She said, “No, I’m not. Stop treating me like such a baby.”
I didn’t feel like dealing with her. So I said, “Fine. Whatever. Get burned. See if I care. ”
At that moment my heart almost dropped because the pan was falling off the stove. I pushed her backside with my left arm because she was standing on the side of the stove and I was standing in front. And I tried to catch the pan by the handle with my right hand, but it fell and burned my arm. It felt like Satan was stabbing needles through me.
Maddie says, “What a waste.”
I wanted to kill her so bad. Now I know. Never be the hero. It leaves a burn scar on your right arm.
A Mysterious Encounter
by Qamirah Mouzon
I always heard the banging, saw the shadows as I walked past her room, and felt the chills run down my spine as I walked down the hallway of my apartment.
So why me, why that day, why this time?
It was a warm, windy October weekday. The sun was shining and I was in the best mood. It had been a long exhausting day. I had two tests: one in Social Studies and the other in Math, but I could care less because I had no homework. It was a beautiful day and was one of my closest friend’s birthdays. It was also my great grandmother’s birthday who passed away three years ago, the same year as her husband, except he passed in February and she passed in August. Their room was right next to mine, and every time I walked past their room, I felt someone watching me, like someone was trying to tell me something. I just didn’t know who or why. That’s probably why it was me who witnessed the incident.
As I walked home with Briana and Aliana, we discussed how much we couldn’t wait to graduate and get out of that hellhole we called a school. Briana and I had been there since we were five years old and Aliana had been there since the fifth grade, but we all went through so much in those last four years at Girls Prep. Even though we had been through so much, we had some great times. As Briana, Aliana and I talked, laughed, reminiscing on the good times, we finally hit the dusty Jacob Riis projects, which extend from 12th Street to 6th Street on Avenue D. These are the projects where me and Aliana live. She lives on 10th Street, I live on 8th Street and Briana lives in the next project over, Lillian Wald. Even though Jacob Riis is one of the best projects around the neighborhood, it’s still dangerous. As we walked toward 10th Street, Briana and I said bye to Aliana while she walked to her building. Me and Briana were still reminiscing on the good times. As we walked towards 8th Street, I waved bye to Brianna as she walked down 7th Street.
While I was walking to my building, I was thinking about the great day I had and how I couldn’t wait to get upstairs to relax. When I unlocked the door, I called out for
my grandmother, but there was no reply. The apartment was so quiet I could nearly feel the Earth spinning. I dropped my stuff off at the kitchen table, then calmly walked to my room and unplugged my iPad as it sat upon the TV stand.
As I walked down the hallway, I peeked into my grandmother’s room, which used to be my great grandparents’ room. Everything seemed to be normal. So I walked to the kitchen table, sat down, opened up my iPad, and began to play Minion Rush, a game where the minions from “Despicable Me” run, hop, and slide over obstacles.
Two minutes after I started playing, I heard a bang on the wall in the hallway. I leaned forward to look down the hall, and I saw my middle drawer open and close by itself. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I raised my eyebrows and said, “Oh shit!”
I searched frantically for my keys, found them, picked up my phone and iPad and ran out the door. My heart started pounding and my hands got sweaty. When I was standing in the hallway of my floor, I began to think I was losing my mind.
Suddenly the elevator door opened and I rushed in. I pressed the lobby button constantly until I got down stairs. When I arrived outside, I sat down on the bench and waited for my grandmother. When I finally saw her walking towards the building, I ran to her and immediately told her what happened. She looked at me with a face of belief and said, “Baby, there’s nothing to worry about.” She then patted me on the back, giggled and we went upstairs.
To this very day I don’t have the answers to any of my questions. But the thing that rings most in my head is why.
40 Dark Chocolate
by Ty’tiana Ford
“You dark chocolate.”
Hearing those words made me silent at first. I was wondering, yes I am black but I didn’t know I was dark as dark chocolate. I was in Grandma’s House a 3-story house with burgundy bricks and black paint, and already I felt my brother turned on me. Entering Grandma’s house was like talking to strangers. I knew I couldn’t trust anyone. Everyone was against me, calling me “dark and ugly.” I hated my skin, I hated myself for not speaking up and for how I looked. Even my Aunt Marie bullied me. She was short like a mushroom and had facial hair. Aunt Marie asked, “What is your favorite color?” I had thought maybe my skin is a nice color. I had responded with joy and glee “brown”. She and the rest of my Aunts laughed, “Why brown”, she said, trying to contain her laugh. I felt shocked, embarrassed, miserable and ashamed at her laugh. I hanged my head in shame and thought I hate this family. Every time I came to this house, they bullied me even in front of my Dad and I had to fight to stop the bullying. I knew I had to be strong.
Lit Like Almost Never
by Jazzeque Logan
I was on my first trip to New York whereby I found out a lot of things. It was a great exciting experience. The scariest part of riding the plane was when it shot up in the air. My brother was so scared that he started crying. We were laughing. My Grandma told him to put the towel over his face so that he didn’t see what was happening.
My Grandma was crying in the corner not saying nothing. I knew that she was sad because of the impatience that she had. My sister was looking through the window like the way you do when you miss your home and have to go somewhere where you have never been before. When we were leaving, my aunt, uncle, and everyone else was crying. It was the saddest moment ever.
My cousin and everybody else started shouting. I was in a lot of shock.
Misspelled Shirt
by Anali Blaine
“Everybody ready…? Please have your pens up and ears ready to hear the first word,” said Ms. Blackman.
When I was in the 2nd grade I was not the best kid in English class. I had a hard time spelling words, which made me not want to write anything. That made me not want to listen to anything my English teacher, Ms. Blackman, a tall, slender woman with a short pixie cut, told me to do; therefore, I got in trouble a lot.
On this sunny day all my classmates gathered around the reading rug getting ready to take a spelling test. Today was different: I had actually studied hard for this test. Everyone in my class was still excited from whatever they did at lunch. I was sitting quietly waiting to take the spelling test I thought I was going to ace.
“Everyone ready for the spelling test? There will be 10 words in total you need to spell,” Ms. Blackman said sharply.
We all went to the rug and looked around the room to see that some faces were excited and worried. “I didn’t even know we had a test,” said one kid.
Ms. Blackman softly stated the first word, the second, then the third: “SHIRT.” I began to worry. I don’t know how to spell that. My palms began to sweat uncontrollably.
So I skipped the word and went all the way to 10 still not knowing how to spell shirt. I tried to sound it out.
Ms. Blackman went around the circle grading everyone’s book. She came to ask for my book. My heart was pounding so fast that I had to close my eyes and calm down. Then she motioned to me to come to her and I did. She pointed to the word “shirt” and just looked at me with disappointment. I finally realized what I had spelled: I forgot the “ r ” and it spelled out “shit.” I began bawling my eyes out thinking she was going to call my mother because that is what she was known for.
My First Kiss Went a Little Like This
by Angel Morales
My first kiss went a little like this: I kissed a girl when I was in the 3rd grade.
It was the last day of school. I had a crush on this girl for the longest, but every year on the last day of school we went on a trip. This year, we went to Field 5 in the L.E.S. It was spirit day because we never had a full week, but I’m off topic. When we got there she was my buddy that I walk with. We were walking together, laughing together, we were having a good ass time.
When we got to the field, we started to play tag. Then we played that game where you hold the egg on the spoon, a fun ass game. Afterwards, we went to the water fountain and she was looking at me. She started to smile. She leaned for the kiss and I was mad nervous. I said in my head, fuck it, and I leaned in, too. We kissed and fireworks went off in my head.
It’s funny how things work out. My first kiss was also my first love. We went out when we were 12 years old for 3 years. I really loved that girl.
We had to break up by the beginning of this school year because she moved to Florida. But we made a promise to each other to never forget one another.
Bloody Mouth
by Stephanie Ventura
I lost my two front teeth in kindergarten playing catch with a hand ball. When my friend Nicole threw it over me, I ran to go get it. As I was running, there was those floors that had a gate, mostly like a gate floor. I ended up tripping as I was running for the handball, and when I fell, my two front teeth hit a corner of a table. At first I just held my mouth as the vibration to my teeth was still going on.
“Oww,” I said, and realized my mouth was leaking blood. Right there I thought my teeth were never going to grow again.
My teachers came and said, “Are you okay!?” I didn’t even speak I just looked at her. She rushed me inside to rinse my mouth because I was bleeding. They called my mom who sent my cousin Crisleidy to pick me up.
When Crisleidy came she asked me, “Are you okay? We’re about to go to the dentist.”
“Okay,” I said. I was nervous, thinking about my teeth not growing. I got to the dentist, where I saw my mom.
She told me, “We are about to see what the dentist says.”
My two front teeth were loose, so the dentist said I had to get them removed. I didn’t stop crying. I kept saying, “what if my teeth never grow.” And when they told me they were pulling my teeth out with a wrench I cried even more. It took a while to calm me down.
During the process of removing my two front teeth I remember screaming, “It hurts.”
After, I was still in pain but they gave me medication. I was also mad I went home toothless. My teeth didn’t grow for almost 2 years. When I was in the 8th grade I got braces and my mom had to pay $4,400 for them. My mom always brags, “I should’ve sued the school for not watching over you. I could’ve used that money for your braces.”
It always makes me and my family laugh.
My Mini Flamethrower
by Matthew Santiago
One night me and my 17 year old brother Michael we’re hanging out in my room, and at one point he decided to look up how to make a flamethrower. After he watched several video tutorials on how to make it he bolted to his room grabbed his cologne and screwed one of the nozzles from my mother’s hair spray bottles on top. The next day he woke up early to buy a lighter, taped it to a metal stick he found outside, and then to the cologne can.
“Get your phone,” he said when he saw I was awake.
“Why?” I asked.
“It’s done,” he said with a crooked smile.
We were so excited to test out our new flamethrower we practically flew up the stairs and to the roof. Luckily, there was a big plank of wood up there.
“Cross your fingers,” he said a little nervously.
He pulled the trigger and the fire shot out in a huge burst.
“Damn, why isn’t it coming out in a straight line like a real one?” he said confused and disappointed.
“Try changing the setting on the nozzle,” I said groggy and half asleep.
He changed the setting to stream and tried again. The fire hit the wood and it started crackling.
“Oh shit it worked,” my brother said, hyped up and ready to burn more things.
“Can we go back downstairs now, I’m hungry,” I said. I could feel my stomach churning as we spoke.
“Alright hold on, I’ve gotta put this out,” my brother said, worried we might get caught.
When we got back into the house it was still quiet, no one had woken up yet.
“Alright, I’m going back to sleep.”
“But where do I put this,” I said with the makeshift flamethrower in hand.
“Just keep it in your room for now I guess.”
“What if mom finds ou-”
“Mom won’t say anything, and if she does just say I left it in there,” he said, anxious to get some rest.
“Alright I’ll see you later,” I said as my stomach growled again.
“G,night.”
A few hours passed and my brother woke up again.
“Yo, it’s still in your room right?”
“Yeah, I don’t have anywhere else to put it. Why?”
“Cause I want to try the different settings on the nozzle,” he said, a smile starting its way across his face.
“I don’t know about that. Mom or Dad could catch us and you know how they feel about us playing with fire.”
“It’s fine. It won’t be like last time we played with fire in the house... probably.”
“The fact you said probably doesn’t make me feel any better about this.”
“It’s fine, what’s the worst that could happen?” he said confidently.
“Would you like the short list or the long one?” I answered sarcastically. My brother laughed it off as always and went to grab our new weapon.
“What the hell are you two doing now?” my older sister Brianna asked when she saw another strange thing her brothers made.
“Nothing important,” Michael said, toying with the settings.
“You better not do anything stupid while I’m asleep,” she said, more worried about what she might have to tell our mother than our safety.
“That’s impossible,” my brother said still playing with the controls of our contraption.
“Whatever,” she said, starting to disappear back into her room.
“Well try,” my brother said, he then waited for my sister’s door to close, then pulled the trigger, and a big ball of flames burst onto the kitchen wall. My brother looked on in amazement. We went on testing the different settings for fora couple of hours then my brother left, when he came home later that night I was still awake.
“Is there still some cologne in the flamethrower?” he asked.
“Yeah, but I think it’s too late to be playing with it,” I said, a little tired of the machine we made out of five dollars worth of junk we had around the house.
“Yeah, you’re probably right,” he said a bit disappointed that it didn’t want to use it. But at that moment, a huge water bug came flying through the kitchen window and started running wild in circles. Of course, me and my brother ran directly to the first large object we could find and tried to kill it. I had had one of my father’s shoes in my hands while my brother had a hammer, so me and my brother ended up chasing the water bug throughout the kitchen when it ran straight into my room.
“Perfect,” my brother said. I already knew what he was gonna do, he had that look on his face since the second he saw that thing run towards the hallway.
“We’re gonna torch it.”
“No we’re not.”
“Why not?”
“Cause I’ll bet everything in my room that you’ll set something on fire.”
“...Nah it’ll be fine ”
“If you say ‘probably’ so help me god I will pretend to miss when burning that damn thing and magically hit you,” I said, just wanting to get this over with.
When we entered my room the water bug was still running in circles, but when my brother threw his hammer at it, the bug went straight under my bed. My brother then flipped the bed on its side with the flamethrower in his hand. Then, when his target was in sight he pulled the trigger.
After that, all I saw were small orange flames starting to eat at my bed and the water bug shrivel up and die. We then had to stomp out my bed and get yelled at by our parents for quite a long while.
Sadly, we had to throw away our amazing flamethrower.
Last Breath
by Brianna Saliche
In the middle of the night, I heard my mom say, “Se murió. ” I jumped up from my bed and burst into tears. I looked at the time and it was 3 A.M.
All the laughter, joy suddenly brought tears to our eyes and heads being turned. Once we saw my grandmother’s deceased body lying on a hospital bed. We all knew it was going to happen.
I just didn’t think it would’ve happen so soon.
The doctors said she was in transition and anytime was her time to go. When I got home from school that afternoon, the home attendant said she had been sleeping all day. So I called my mother and she got home as quickly as possible.
Mom crying, dad eyes tearing, brother’s heart broken and many, many more touched by the news. Most of all, me. It felt unreal, “I can’t believe this, Mommy! Why?!”
I didn’t want to believe what happened! It couldn’t be true. I kept shutting my eyes tightly thinking it was all a dream, that type of dream you have where you want to wake up but you can’t because something is holding you back. I wanted to wake up from it.
My brother walked out the room and punched the wall, “BAM, BAM! “
My mother walked out and tried to hold him. “Everything’s going to be okay, she’s in a better place now.” Which is what everybody says for comfort. Here I was just thinking that was my grandmother who I held a strong bond with. It was my grandmother...
All I can remember is seeing her taking her last breath and slowly saying goodbye…
It was my grandmother.
It hit 6 o’clock a.m. , the home attendant bathed my grandmother and dressed her. We were all waiting for the gentlemen to come take my grandmother to the funeral home.
My sister and I were sitting on the couch and the doorbell rang, it was the people coming to get her.
The image that will never leave my mind was when she was wrapped in the black blanket while they was taking her down the stairs on this beat-up gray stretcher.
I was crying my eyes out, my sister was holding me tightly, I couldn’t go to school that day.