What a Wreck, Griffi n Alm

mercy of the pilots. I felt the ground, or I guess the water, continue to get closer. As if my seat was lowering towards the fl oor of the plane. It was a sinking feeling. We had to be just a few minutes from the crash landing. Soon the fl ight attendants started chanting over and over again that it got old: “Brace brace brace! Heads down stay down!” This went on for several minutes as if they didn’t think we would remember it. Then the captain came on the intercom, “Ladies and gentlemen, brace for impact.” My heart sunk deep into my gut. As I was bracing myself sweating like I never had before, it hit. As the massive plane plunged into the river, it felt like slamming on the breaks in a car, times ten. Through the window, it fi rst looked like the plane was underwater, but then the water cleared, and we were fl oating peacefully. I could not believe I was alive. Instantly, everyone shot up out of their seats and were scrambling, scooched together like a herd of cows. The next fi ve minutes turned into a blur. I remember everyone screaming and eventually stepping out of the plane into the cold january colorado winter, then onto the wing. The process seemed scruffy and unorganized, but eventually, the crew had several life rafts infl ated and everyone was in one. “Hey you!” Yelled a fl ight attendant who was on the other side of my raft. “Grab the oar down by your leg and help me row us ashore.” And that’s exactly what I did. As we came ashore, I heard the distant sound of a chopper, and a minute later it was soon hovering over what had just taken place. “Wake up Tom!” My whole body shot up to see my roommate looking at me like I was psychotic. “You slept through your alarm,” he murmured. With my heart pounding, I quickly gathered my things and headed to school, not knowing if I could make it through the day. It was on this day that I survived my worst nightmare.

SAVVY DUNCAN, 11

I walk the lonely, moss-fi lled aisles looking up into the clear blue sky. It has been ten years since I last walked this path, and back then it was not so lonely. Ten years later and I can still remember that beautifully tragic day so vividly. “Nat, what on earth did I ever do to make you not want to bring me here?” He ran past me yelling, “I mean come on, this place is almost as beautiful as you!” He halted, leaning over the side of the lake and I knew exactly what he was plotting the second he grabbed my hand. “Shawn, absolutely not.” “I have already made up my mind Natalie Mae.” I had no option but to follow his grip on my hand into the water, in my new dress, right after him. His favorite jokes were the facetious ones. He never knew time and place. Right now, the water is still. No 18-year-old lovers screaming and splashing around. Just the water, just the memories, and just me. I take off my shoes and sink my toes into the cold water below me. “I cannot believe you right now, Shawn Walter,” I proclaimed as he held his hand out, attempting to pull me back onto the grass beside him. “I take you to my secret escape and you soak me in my new dress? Unbelievable.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh did someone have a little fun after all?” Shawn then pushed me back into the water and I began to splash him. He jumped right back in, and the war began. My smile breaks at the remembrance of the moment. That was Shawn, carefree and brilliant. He made every moment an adventure and every day beautiful. He did not care about what anyone else thought of him or us; he was completely himself one-hundred-percent of the time. I learned so much from that boy. He pushed me to do crazy things that I would have never done in the moment if he were not there. He pushed me to grow as a person and gain confi dence in myself. Tears run down the side of my cheek as I remember the rest of that day. “What’s next on the list, Natile Mae?” Sarcastically, I answered, “To dry off.” We both laughed. I always knew how to make him laugh. We laid in the grass looking at the clouds for a bit. I was always looking at him rather than the clouds, but he did not know it. He had bright, ocean blue eyes that held a special look just for me. I watched the way he looked at the sky, or the trees, or the rain through a window. His look was the same with everything he saw, until he looked my way. Then his eyes beamed like I was the prettiest painted sky at the crack of dawn he had ever seen. My tears subsided. I put my shoes back on and pulled myself together. Walking to the rock we used to climb up and sit on, I was taken back for a moment. I had forgotten how it was the exact size of Shawn, six foot tall and one inch. We carved our initials into it and claimed it as our own that day. I miss him. I miss his laugh and his joyful spirit. The way he walked with his hands in his pockets and would only take them out to wrap his arms around me when he saw me. He almost always wore blue jeans; catching him out and about in anything else was a special treat. He loved to sing. He was not very good, but I sure did love listening to him belt the lyrics to his new favorite song while he was driving. I do not know why he was taken from