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TABLE OF CONTENTS LETTER TO THE READER

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MEET THE STAFF

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FRESHMAN YEAR • PHILIP LAZZARONI

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SOPHOMORE YEAR • PHILIP LAZZARONI

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THE OSPREY’S NEST • EMMA MILLAR

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SO I SIT • MCKENZIE SHWARZ

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DEMOCRACY IN AMERICA • MADELINE MAG-

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NESS BALLET • JESS MUSCELLA

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CRAVINGS • ANONYMOUS

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DEAR BALLET WORLD • JESS MUSCELLA

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NEW YEARS EVE • EMMA MILLAR

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WALKING INTO DARKNESS • DALLA ZUNIGA

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THE TREASURE BENEATH THE SEA • DANIEL

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LEE THE SUMMER SOLSTICE • ALLIE ANDERSON

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ANGELS AND DEMONS • DANIEL LEE

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IF LOVE IS BLIND • ALLIE ANDERSON

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HER HOUSE • DALLAS ZUNIGA

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THE DIAMOND IN THE ROUGH • DANIEL LEE

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SILENCE • EMMA MILLAR

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SKELETONS • ALLIE ANDERSON

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SCULPTURE • DANIELLE DISPOTO

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FAIR DOCTOR • LOGAN LEBRON

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COMMAND • LOGAN LEBRON

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5 DAY CARNIVORE • EMMA MILLAR

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J’S STORY • WILLIAM MCFADDEN

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HINT FICTION • EMMA MILLAR

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HIGH SCHOOL MUSICAL REVIEW • KIERNAN

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O’HERLIHY


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MEET THE STAFF

JARED SCHENFELDT- EVENT MANAGER (top left) EMMA MILLAR-PUBLIC RELATIONS COORDINATOR

KIERNAN O’HERLINY-APPRENTICE LIBRARIAN

PHIL LAZZARONI-EDITOR-IN-CHIEF

JESS MUSCELLA-LIBRARIAN

JOSIE CATANZARITECONTENT DIRECTOR

LOGAN LEBRON (top right)- LIBRARIAN

DANIELLE DISPOTO-STAFF

NOT PICTURED: LELIA RICE-STAFF SARAH STEVENS-COVER ARTIST MADELINE MAGNESS-TREASURER NATALIE HUNGATE ALLIE ANDERSON-LAYOUT COORDINATOR NICK VERONESI JESSICA RHYMER-SECRETARY

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FRESHMAN YEAR PHILIP LAZZARONI

You will have the best time of your life. You will have the worst time of your life. You will love college. You will hate college. You will be happy you left home. You will be sad you left home. You will embrace your future. You will fear your future. You will gain new friends. You will lose old friends. You will know exactly what you are doing. You will have no idea what you are doing. You will think that everyone loves college but you. You will think that no one loves college but you. You will go to the gym. You will stop going to the gym. You will call your mom and cry. You will call your mom and she will cry. You will wish life was simple. You will wish life could stay this simple. You will find your place. You will feel lost, but I assure you, you will find your place.

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SOPHOMORE YEAR PHILIP LAZZARONI

You will be happy that you’re back.

You’re definitely happy you’re back.

You will have a lot more responsibilities.

You don’t have time to breathe.

You’ll feel needed.

You’re overwhelmed 24/7.

You’ll be incredibly efficient.

You’re lazy.

You will wear what you want.

You don’t care enough to change out of your sweatpants.

You will know the ins- and outs of college better.

You won’t buy your books until the third week of class.

You will make new friends.

You have better friends now.

You will learn to prioritize yourself.

You’re a bit selfish.

You will appreciate the weekends.

You sleep for 12 hours.

You will start looking for internships. You can’t get one as a sophomore. You will look at the past and smile.

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You will thank the universe that Freshman year is over.


THE OSPREY’S NEST EMMA MILLAR

And every road you take will always lead you home. Home is where your heart is, they say. And it’s true. The question is, when? When will my path lead me back to Maryland? The greatest state there ever was. 10 out of 10? More like 50 out of 50. Where we say “you guys” instead of “y’all”, Old Bay is always an available seasoning, and no one questions my love for the state flag. Nothing is better than walking amongst the Monuments, metroing to a Nats game, sitting in traffic on the Beltway, and then spending the afternoon at the Bay on a boat -- a canoe -- as little waves rock me back and forth, making it difficult for my eyes to focus on the Osprey flying overhead through my pair of green binoculars. But I watch it anyway, as it lands in the collection of reeds woven together on top of a splintered pylon. Serenity washes over me like the tide that is lapping against the wood, and the tips of cord grass bending in the warm breeze, because I know that just like me, that bird is home.

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SO I SIT

JESS MUSCELLA MCKENZIE SCHWARZ

There is sunshine shining, A cool breeze is flowing, The tress rustling above my ear, Yet still I feel fear, If this is now, What is next, The disease has already take what`s dear, The past the memories; All that`s here. What`s the point, To live without a mind, With a body so frail, That`s weakening and as thin as a rail, I can`t die, They won`t let me pass, But why not, I`m no longer me, And that even I can see,

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So I sit, Ever close to the shade, And hope to go to death`s glade.


MADELINE MAGNESS

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BALLET JESS MUSCELLA

A hobby An activity Fun Happy Passionate A dream A life A goal A need A desire An obsession Consuming Overwhelming A disorder A lifeline Stressful Painful Insecure An upheaval A decision Done

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EMMA MILLAR


CRAVINGS She was my sun

Meeting Ninety was easy

I, her Icarus

Because she never really left

She was unattainable

She was my first hit

Dangerous to think about

Exciting, liberating

But God as my witness

I was complimented

That made me want her more

And envied

And that was all that mattered.

And worried for But that didn’t matter

I never met Seventy

I was thin

I realized quickly she was out of my league

That mattered.

The Prom Queen to my drop out self. I did everything to obtain her

Meeting Eighty was difficult

Cried, crawled, and begged

She made me hide my breakfast under my bed

But she wanted nothing to do with me.

Throw my lunch out the window of my car

I didn’t matter.

Expel my family’s dinner in the toilet Eighty was pestilence

Eighty was my loyal friend for all of high school

She was

She was a toxic bitch

The soreness in my throat

That I grew to despise

The Dryness in my fingers The cavities in my teeth

Ninety was always kinder

But none of that mattered.

She was forced back into my life by concerned

Eighty mattered.

family and doctors. Ninety remains by my side to this day.

Seventy whispered sweet nothings into my ears

But I realized quickly

Every waking moment of every day

That I don’t need Ninety

She was a Goddess

To matter.

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DEAR BALLET WORLD JESS MUSCELLA Dear Ballet World, Do you care? Do you care that you tortured me? Took my heart and crushed it for all to see. Dangled my dream in front of my face Only to snatch it and take it away To glow as the others walked in front Of the students who worked long and hard enough To smile and act as all is okay As you made my year slowly decay To say you’re sorry as if I’d actually believe To tell me one thing and then watch me bleed I wasn’t good enough I wasn’t thin enough You couldn’t see my bones You couldn’t see my spine You couldn’t see a gap between my thighs I starved. I barfed. I did everything, To try to make you like me. But it didn’t work. But that’s this world A life based on superficiality A world based on beauty And nothing in between Where your self worth is in another’s hands Where one misstep could ruin your chance Where one man holds your life And makes his living through a web of lies So, Ballet? Is it pretty? Maybe. But not to me Not anymore.

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Now I have clarity. Now I have closure.


MADELINE MAGNESS

NEW YEARS EVE EMMA MILLAR

Empty bottles clink down the abandoned ally filled with scurrying rats and creatures hidden in the shadows. Flapping in the chilling breeze, a piece of grimy cardboard is anchored down by a wrinkled soul. Like an eavesdropping child, he has an ear pressed up against the unwelcoming brick wall of a night club. Bass thumps and neon flickers on the dark walls inside, illuminating the distorted faces of strangers plastered together in a clammy mob. As strobes dance across the room, rambunctious beats swirl out of speakers like lava that is spewing from the mouth of a volcano -like the bottle of champagne just uncorked.

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WALKING INTO DARKNESS Dallas Zuniga Walking into darkness Becoming so blind, I see with my instincts, So trapped inside my mind. Blackness seeps around us-Sightless as can be-Can’t see the world ahead, But determined to breathe. Now together we go Riding through our life, The walls within you try To block me causing strife. But I push on forward Looking to the light, One day you will open To give me love within my life.

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MADELINE MAGNESS


THE TREASURE BENEATH THE SEA

BY: DANIEL LEE PHOTO BY: JESS MUSCELLA

In the crystal, blue sea, The waves undulate over an elegant coral reef, Where a brave diver traverses the immaculate beauty. For he, endlessly searches for the treasure Which will forever bring him pleasure Into a life where there is little. By the grace of Leucothea, He located the treasure ready to be bequeathed Frantic, he swam toward the chest Where, upon opening it, he finds it barren Devoid of anything he dreamt of, But there, it hit him Like the surge of a thousand waves That vigorously pursuing something that one craves Ultimately, brings dysfunction And there, in that very ocean The diver’s cloudy eyes of despair were purified For, he realized the emptiness was a true treasure That he should not search, That, in this life, fortunes whether it be love, wealth, or happiness Will always find their way into someone’s life Darting back to the pinnacle of the water, He felt the absence of strife

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OLIVIA LANEY

Never get married, one of these mutters to me, Slamming her wine glass down because her Husband forbade her to leave the deck with it. I collect, balance what I can in my hands.

I’m waiting on my bride, a seasoned one confirms, So a table for two ought to do. She arrives like a fine wine, With grace and poise, their laughter shines. I sashay through this saloon and smoke, You’re a cloud over my head, and sweat under my skin It’s a dance I do, to choose between the two.

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ALLIE ANDERSON

Storms come in as an arrest when heat feels like a hug, You’re either cooled or pierced by lightning. When the sun digs its way through, The lake dazzles like a thousand diamonds.

THE SUMMER SOLSTICE

The summer was hot like a breath after a kiss, wet enough to fog up a beer mug. Cheerful chatter of those basking in the ecstasy and old money makes me shallow and calm.


ANGELS AND DEMONS DANIEL LEE

Angels are cruel; Cruel to all of us, the fools. While demons are mountebanks Cozening us into a false sense of pleasure. A n g e l s a r e h o l y, But they guffaw at all of our follies. And those demons; At least they give us something. Angelic, yet inactive Demonic, yet productive Is either better than the other? Demons, perhaps? For they give us those pleasures The pleasure that will eventually go away A n d t u r n i n t o s o r r o w, Though at least they gave us something. Unlike the angels, sitting atop the clouds Like winged statues, all seeing, but locked into place A s h u m a n i t y i s t r i c k e d b y L u c i f e r ’s m i n i o n s . Maybe one day they will become benevolent and turn face, Though they really don’t care about any of my opinions. EMMA MILLAR

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IF LOVE IS BLIND ALLIE ANDERSON

Doubt thou the stars are fire, Doubt that the sun doth move, Doubt truth to be a liar But never doubt that I love. -William Shakespeare, Hamlet

You don’t ever have to apologize to me. . . I learned early it would not show up in a tiny teal tiffany box. That’s why you couldn’t see me. No, not in a long veil or puffy pink cheeked baby It will never be us on the dock with hands interlocked. You don’t ever have to apologize to me. . . It wouldn’t be pictures glued along a wall or sharing keys; I will never compromise for love that is sought. That’s why you couldn’t see me. It is a spotlight shining on my face as sweat forms in beads, And scrambled eggs as I mourned with a Russian orthodox. You don’t ever have to apologize to me. . . It was my friend holding my hands, asking me to breathe and count to ten; Laughing in the dark as I juggled props, while she made magic with a toolbox. That’s why you couldn’t see me. It’s hugging my grandmother in a dream, by the sea. I refuse to be mocked You don’t ever have to apologize to me. . .

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That’s why you couldn’t see me.

MADELINE MAGNESS


HER HOUSE DALLAS ZUNIGA The place at which she stands so tall Will be the cause of her great fall, Protecting us from our free speech, She is a creativity leech. The right and wrong is black and white, She will enforce her big fat might Upon us all. We fall in line To kiss our bride, yet still missed the sign. The only things that keep us here Are our close friends, plus time and fear. But yet we stay because we must, We stay because we need her trust.

EMMA MILLAR

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DANIEL LEE

JESS MUSCELLA

He was digging, searching in the depths of nothingness Many before him had tried with recklessness But with meticulous ability, he found the prize A diamond in the rough ready to be apprised. At first, it seemed as if it was ready to be given away, Yet there were some fine edges that needed to be tuned So the diamond could be brighter than the moon Thus, the beauty had to be let go Though he knew it would be back. It would be his prize To hold up to the light and see each fine tuned edge with his own eyes. To know that this diamond is infinite Just as his pride in this treasure was. Shining brightly, refracting rainbows, something only he could ever fathom For that perfect one. The one whom he had all the fun The one who also was a diamond in the rough And just needed a touch To transform her into a beauty so elegant, so immeasurable And for this, the diamond represents something more than his proposal It exemplifies the trials and tribulations of trying to make a reversal From a diamond in the rough that was nothing To some object so complex and pure which others would find obscure But he saw the beauty and purity Which would be with him for eternity.

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SILENCE EMMA MILLAR

I n a h u s h e d l i b r a r y, everything is still. Piled high are books about Charlie Chaplin films, church mice, and snow falling. O n t h e s e c o n d f l o o r, a p e n r o l l s o f f a d e s k and you can hear it hit the burgundy carpet. Even the most muffled rattle of plastic is enough to break the serenity that surrounded you. Somewhere a tower of books collapses in a heap, faint notes from a grainy soundtrack of a movie come on, scampering claws of mice skirt across the linoleum tiles, and snow melts into rain and begins pattering o n t h e f r a i l w i n d o w s o f t h e l i b r a r y. That moment of silence, pause, lull in movement, in which you became aware of every fiber of your being, every thought entertained by your mind, is shattered.

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SKELETONS ALLIE ANDERSON I wonder how it’ll feel for the brisk New Castle breeze, To brush against my smooth southern soul. I’ve felt this icy touch along the nape of my neck before; Through their fingertips, I’ve traveled the world. I watched as a tumbleweed napkin through A theme park of wood and mafia carnies in the Pitts. Between two rivers, I was the light in the tunnel Illuminating your baby face relief, this is home. Once I was a storm that was too much to handle in tornado valley Along the road your parents didn’t know they both used to live on. Your mother used to tell me stories of the best man she kissed, It wasn’t your father. She had to take you to Japan when you were a two because your father’s job, You were shaking in her arms, and she was shaking in her skin. Wide-eyed, she’s left alone in an apartment above a funeral home. When my dad met her he told me her eyes reeked of loneliness. I met another, where his home was not a castle for a king, But a charm of childhood chains, dancing in the clubs of Duquesne. He saw the ghost of his mother in a hotel in Louisiana, and a peculiar grey-haired woman in the airport told him he was loved. His parents met in college, and his father lied that he was older. One sight into her warm chocolate eyes, he vowed one day she would be his wife. But they dated for almost a decade, till he caved when his roommates started decorating their apartment walls with magazine clippings of wedding rings. She told me that he taught her everything she knows about drinking, And how one time he told her to look out of her window, He wrote out in huge letters, “I love you” in the snow. Now, if she steps in his kitchen he throws his hands up to swat her away. Now, I’ve stumbled upon a stubborn busboy in a restaurant on the Hudson. Its uncharted territory, but he whispers secrets over the phone, And I try to piece him together like the broken china that was dropped in my own hasty kitchen. It’s the devil’s hour, but I’m lulled to sleep by the rattling of skeletons in other people’s closets.

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DANIELLE DISPOTO

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FAIR DOCTOR LOGAN LEBRON

What is a spin doctor?

To make the correct and negatively ethical; wrong and positively ethical.

A liar? A genius?

What else is a spin doctor, if not a?

A super hero? A prophet?

A liar.

A villain?

A genius. A super hero.

What is it that they do?

A prophet. A villain.

They make the world fair. They make the world beautiful to behold.

The greatest of our races;

They make the masses tolerable.

lawyers, politicians,

What can I say to surmise?

commanders, revolutionaries.

To be a spin doctor is to: I love my spin doctor. To make the wrong and negatively ethical; correct and positively ethical.

To make the correct and positively ethical; wrong and negatively ethical. To make the wrong and positively ethical; correct and negatively ethical.

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For they make all things fair.


COMMAND LOGAN LEBRON

To be in command is to be exhausted. A life time of friends and foes. In a very short span of time. So as that it seems you have lived separate epochs. Your shoulders never relax. You are in command. When one post switches to another. When lives go by. When not one, two, or three, but as many as your posts.

When each statement you make is discussed. When those statements are discussed behind closed doors. When those statements are discussed in the open. When the English Language seems like a limited form of expression. Your, in each conversation, looking for the opportunity to shape the world. You are in command.

Your contacts are longer than your memory. You are in command.

When Tzun Tzu’s Art of War seems like common sense. When you realize that common sense is an illusion. When the end goal and causes bell are considered before each interaction.

When each year feels like a decade. When the calendar units stop to be of importance. You feel timeless.

Your every word or opinion registers as hypocrisy in your mind. You are in command.

You are always worrying about your humility. You are in command.

When you look for love. When all you find is respectful associates. When all you find is fanatical friends or enemies. When your advances are considered politically.

When your advice is sought. When your suggestions or requests are treated as orders. When a compliment makes a day. When a critique is harsher than any physical discipline. You feel a hollow pain in your body all day. You are in command.

You are desperate for someone better than a friend to share the burden. You are in command. When you are willing to put your happiness on the line for others. When you are available as long as you can stand to be. When you long for a second to lay back without worry and cannot.

When your change of facial expression can make or break a situation. When your absence hurts a community more than you. To be in command is When you lie down for a two hour nap and are awoken too………………………………………... by four different people and seven different problems in their lives.

BE IN LOVE

Your allies and foes try to appeal to your interests. You are in command.

WITH HUMANITY

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“Five Day Carnivore” EMMA MILLAR

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I. The date has been set for months. March 25th. That is the day I’ll go vegetarian for a year. 365 days. 8,760 hours. 525,600 minutes. A year. Tapping my pencil on my desk, I stare at the date circled in fat red marker on the calendar that was hung by a tack on the wall of my cubicle. No one thinks I’ll actually do it. They say I have five days left and that is plenty of time for me to chicken out. Pun intended. I was just a meat-loving intern bringing coffee into the conference room at the wrong time. Business men and women sat around the long oak table, brainstorming a way to get more readers on our site. A social experiment of sorts, they suggested. I only volunteered because I want a real job. This is going to be my big break… in the writing world that is. II. The savory mix of melted cheese and taco-seasoned beef melts in my mouth. I close my eyes to make the moment last a little longer. Once Friday comes, I can kiss all of this goodbye. Ugh, how and I going to do this? Maybe I won’t. But I have to. This is my chance to be published, and also to get a job that makes me money. Sure, organizing file cabinets, sitting in on the occasional team meeting, and getting the group lunch everyday has its perks. But a real job would be so awesome. After all, I can’t be an intern forever. I’m twenty-six. Taking another delicious bite, I start to plan out what I’ll eat for the rest of the week. Bacon for breakfast every morning -- no doubt. For lunches, I could get a cheeseburger from the grill one day, and maybe a chicken caesar salad from Santucci’s the next. III. “Had anymore nightmares lately, Gabby?” the other intern Miles asks, joining me at the table in the break room. We always eat lunch in here since the cafeteria downstairs is usually too busy with people who are succeeding in the real world. Ever since the beginning of March, I’ve had these nightmares about my vegetarian year. Sometimes I relapse within the first week, driving to an all-you-can-eat buffet and eating every carnivorous dish offered. Other times, I dream that I actually like being a vegetarian and end up living without steak for the rest of my life. I shake my head, clearing the nightmares away. Only two more days after today. Then I could eat down there too. I’ll be earning it. “Well if you count this morning, then yes.” I joke, telling him about when I went to pick up my salad from the deli before work. They told me they had ran out of Caesar dressing so I could have my meal for free. I thanked them, grudgingly taking my chicken non-caesar salad, and headed to the office. The rest of the morning I’ve been trying to hype up the Thousand Island thing, but all I could think about was how I was wasting a meat. I mean a meal. IV. This afternoon Dani, my boss, stops by my desk to check on my progress. She said she read my first post draft and thought it was funny. This blog better be worth it. I’ve been battling these doubts all week. What if I’m not as funny as I told Dani I’d be? What if I’m a terrible blogger because all of my writing turns into passive-aggressive threats at my new vegetarian lifestyle. Or worse, what if I fill my blog posts with meat-related puns in an attempt to fill the void? I’ve also been wondering what happens a year from now when my blog is over. Am I going to be a lab rat forever? Maybe I’ll get to come up with a project of my own. For dinner tonight I’m going to have pulled pork. With a bun that is fresh out of the oven and barbecue sauce that is spilling out from the middle and might even stain my placemat. Then for dessert, fried chicken. Because that is my favorite. V. Dani just called me saying it’s time for my first team meeting. I glance over at my calendar and stare down the giant circle around today’s date. Taking a deep breath, I get up from my pilled desk chair and follow her. As I walk down the white hallway to the conference room, my stomach grumbles. I tell myself it’s butterflies, because this is it. My big break. I’m excited. But I know that it’s really from the bacon that I didn’t eat this morning.


A LETTER TO THE READER. . . (J’S STORY) WILLIAM MCFADDEN

Life… can be a mystery. An aimless journey that we travel every day. The thing is it took me years to understand this. It took hatred, frustration, and sometimes love to get me where I am today. To have your whole life ripped away from you and have to take it back is a challenge that I wouldn’t wish on anyone. The reason is because it happened to me. Hi, my name is J. This is my story.

JESS MUSCELLA

SYNOPSIS A Prince. A Memory. A Choice. These trials that only one boy must face in order to find out who he truly is and why is everything happening to him. J, the first book in the Chronicles of J, is a thrilling novel about self-discovery in a way that has never been seen before. Violence, amnesia, special skills, and romance all wrapped-up in a single book. Do you want to know who J truly is? Then turn the page and your questions may be answered.

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PROLOGUE

J’S STORY CONTINUED BY WILLIAM MCFADDEN Darkness enveloped the small stone cave. Sparks of lightning brightening the space each time it was released from his fingers. In all black, there stood a tall slim boy with lightning white hair and eyes that shined with the whitest of lights. His hands held two large balls of pure electricity that continuously flashed from blue to white. A voice rose from behind him. “It’s time.” The boy turned around, and there stood a large man. He seemed half breed: part human and part eel. He wore a blue and gold robe with silver buttons. He, too, seemed to be emitting lightning but far less than the boy. In this man’s arms, he held a baby. A boy. “You know what you must do. Promise made, Promise kept.” The boy shook his head and raised his arms toward the baby. A huge arch of lightning was then release from the boy and into the baby. The babe emitted a loud horrifying scream that deafened both the boy and the man. He continued and the baby’s skin began to burn off in a gruesome manor. The lightning had finally stopped. The tall man looked down at the baby with a high level of concern. The baby had no pulse. He was cold and terribly burned. The man rose his head to confront the boy. “Why did……” The boy was gone. The man looked around the dark space for the boy. He called out and had no reply. Beginning to grieve, he held his head down to observe and cry over the baby. The man let out screams of pain and anguish. He really wanted to know what made the boy kill the child. He pressed the child’s head against his chest over and over again to make sure he was truly gone. The baby never woke up. Staring at the baby he said, “Hello their baby boy. You were going to be my son.” Then suddenly the baby’s eyes opened and his eyes were completely white. The man jumped up and heard his son’s heartbeat. He held him up in the sky and yelled. “Thank you spirit. You have blessed the world with a wonderful prince. He will now have your protection. I, the king of Elextra, name you James” Then, the baby began to shine extremely bright, blinding the man. Then the baby was gone. Years went by and the child was never found. Or so they thought…

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LELIA RICE


J’S STORY CHAPTER ONE WILLIAM MCFADDEN

“Wake up sleepy head. James, it’s time to get up now,” a voice said. James opened his eyes to a white ceiling and a small room. The room was very plain with a pale green and baby blue background. It was cold and very dry room. He did not like it. He scanned the room quickly and saw that he was hooked up to a heart monitor and other medical devices. Where am I? he thought. He moved his head to the window and did not recognize where he was and that sort of made him uneasy. A mirror was placed on the foot of his bed. He raised it up to see and he was surprised at what he saw: a teenage boy with long blond hair and icy blue eyes with flakes of white in them. Is this me? “Did you hear me James?” He flipped his head toward the sound and there sat a woman. She was a petite woman with very pale white skin. He tried to figure out who she was but for some strange reason there was no connection to be made. The more they stared at each other the more he began to notice her body as a whole. She was completely covered in blue. Her hair was a dark navy blue, she wore a bright sky blue dress with royal blue shoes. All her makeup was done in blue as well from her lipstick to her eye shadow. Why was this lady so obsessed with blue? She must have seen the confusion on his face because she proceeded with, “James are you okay?” She rose from her chair and touched his face. “It’s all over and you finally get to come home.” “Mom?” James said surprised. “You’re my mom?” “Well of course I am silly.” James was really confused but he put the feeling aside. He was getting ready to go home with his mom. It seemed pretty normal and he was willing to accept that. “I’ll be right back for. I need to talk to the doctors so that they can finally release you okay?” “Okay.” She walked to the small white door and glanced back at James. “I love you, son.” “Love you too mom.” Then she exited the room with a smile that was very unsettling. It seemed almost forced. As James sat there he began to try to piece together what happened, why he was here, and why he did not remember. “Am I sick?” he said thinking out loud while examining his body and the hospital monitors he was attached to. He could not remember anything and that really frustrated him. How was he just going to wake up and insert himself in a life that he did not know? Then, he began to think about the lady in blue. She seemed so nice, but there seemed to be a mystery to her. It was as if she wore a mask that he just could not take off? Is she really my mom? About 10 minutes later two tall slim men came in to his room. They both were dressed in all black and had no emotion whatsoever. “Hey what’s going on?” James said trying to sound authoritative. “Where’s my mom?” The guys did not move a muscle at all. They remained quiet and still. All of a sudden one of the men touched their ears as if they were listening to an earpiece but he clearly did not have one. Once he put his hand down, both of them approached James’ bed very slowly. “Back up.” James said beginning to feel a little worried and scared. The men lunged at him in a means to restrain him. James began to kick and yell out for his mom and the nurses. “Help. Help” He did not know why this was happening. He did not even know these guys or anything at all. Still struggling, finally one guy had James by the throat and said in a gentle voice “Good night little prince.” There was a flash of blue and then, his vision went dark.

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HINT FICTION EMMA MILLAR

“Last Day of School” On June 1st the abandoned halls were crowded with torn down posters, ripped streamers, and a man in a jumpsuit mopping the linoleum. “About the Boy in the Green” Don’t bother me. I’m busy. I don’t want your attention, I want his, says the girl in the red to the boy in the blue. “Chocolate Covered Smile” I snuck a small taste, but I don’t think Mom will notice because I only used my pinkie.

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High School Musical : A Review by a Past High School Student KIERNAN O’HERLIHY

Of course, in 2006, when the first movie came out, we all had a crush on Troy, wanted to

be best friends with Gabriella, and saw Sharpay as the mean girl of the school. East High was the place where we all wanted to be, singing about being cool and about breaking free of the status quo, but what was behind the scenes? Was there any truth to the movies? I embarked on watching the trilogy to find out.

Gabriella has always been my queen, and always will be. Besides the fact that we are both

bookworms, her breakup songs have given me life in my times of darkness, and of course, the wonderful Vanessa Hudgens adds character to this movie as a whole. Specifically in this movie, I relate to Gabriella, moving to a new school and learning that people change when they are with their friends, compared to you. But Troy obviously swoops in and saves the day, of course with his gorgeous hair, which he somehow keeps throughout the three movies perfectly.

Well, just to let you know, nothing in the movies is as it seems. Unfortunately, you can’t

break out into song to fix any problem that comes across your path. Even if you do “Stick to the Status Quo” and “Bop to the Top” of the food chain, even if you’re “Fabulous”, you sometimes just “Gotta go your own way”. In the end, these are my favorite movies because of how I can vicariously live through the characters (and of course sing along to the songs all the time). Even though my high school experience was hell, I’ll just live through Gabriella and Troy and remember high school that way.

LELIA RICE

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Bellwether 2017  
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