For Art's Sake Part 2 2024-2025 by St. Paul VI Catholic High School

For Art’s Sake

PureWhite

by Brooke Barker '25

Soft powdery flakes of snow kissed her strands of hair, coating them gently like a wedding veil.

We were sitting beneath a mighty willow tree perched in my father’s land a long ways away from his cabin, overlooking a vast horizon of pure white. The tree’s wispy branches swept down as a curtain, transforming into our own secret hideaway. Even though it was almost midnight, the night sky was illuminated by the pale moonlight’s reflection on the endless bed of snow, creating a soft lilac tone speckled with freckles of stars. The evening somehow felt safe and light, even though we were out in the vast wilderness in the dead of night. This was not only because of the immaculate environment, but because of the beautiful woman who sat at my side. Her presence warmed my body from the inside out, starting at the heart of my soul flowing to the tips of the hair on my head; I felt tingly all over. I laced Glinda’s icy fingers into mine, rubbing my thumb over her velvety cuticles. I felt my warmth envelope her hand as the frost nipped at my skin. It nibbled away at my flesh, but it stood no chance at ruining the moment I was having. Glinda’s deep moss eyes lingered across my face, squinting as she gave me a smile as sweet as honey. I chuckled to myself and shook my head.

“Haha, what?” She teased, squeezing my hand tight.

“It’s like, it’s like I still have a crush on you. Like back in high school. You’re still Glinda, Glinda. Of course, you have changed, but that is because you ’ ve grown and matured. You’re so beautiful. You’re…just too good to be true.”

Glinda’s smile did not fade, but gained more depth. Her eyes grasped a hold of me and drew me in deeper. I swept an unsteady hand across her cheek; I felt as if I was trembling, not from the cold, but by the sheer concept of her.

“A-are you even real?”

She gently placed her hand on top of mine and nuzzled her cheek into it, nodding.

“Of course I am, Randy. Are you?”

I felt a fistful of snow collide with my face. She giggled as she scooped up another handful and smeared it all over, getting it into my nose and mouth. I scrambled to my feet, slipping on the icy snow and smashing my head against the bark of the willow.

“Ah, crap!” I winced as I clasped my hands over an aching spot on my scalp.

“Aww poor thing,” Glinda cooed, tilting my head lower and gently nestling a kiss in my hair. I practically melted. She slipped her fingers around the collar of my coat, tracing the back of my neck with delicate fingernails. Then, a sheer numbing chunk of snow slipped down my spine. I nearly screamed as my body contorted from the discomfort.

“Oh! You’re in for it now. ”

Her eyes perked up and she gritted her teeth. Glinda scurried towards the willows fanning branches and swept them aside as she disappeared into the night. I smirked as her laughs filled the evening air, for when she was happy, I could be happy. My heart beat strongly in my chest; it was an indescribable feeling, like I could feel it overflowing with joy and love and laughter and everything good in the world. Is this heaven? Did I die? This was the highest high. Nothing could compare.

My tall fur boots crunched against the dense snow beneath me as I made my way towards the exit of our willow hideaway. I swept the canopy of leaves aside, and had to squint, because the sun outside was blindingly bright. My retinas burned. Heat beat against my face, as if it was trying to melt and scorch my skin off like a flamethrower.

“W-what? I- where’s Glinda? Where-”

“Randy…”

“Randy.”

“Randy!”

“Daddy! Dad!”

Putrid saltwater splashed against my face, waking me up to being waterboarded. My body shot up before I could open my eyes, weakly holding itself up on fragile stilt-like limbs as the floor tilted up and down. Slowly, I peeled open my eyes. And unfortunately, there she was, that malicious sun. Her rays blistered against every exposed inch of my skin, leaving patches of crispy red. I swung my head around groggily, letting it fall in whatever direction it wanted to. Every direction I looked, blue. Disgusting, hopeless blue. My heart felt as empty as the ocean wasteland around me; it ached. My eyes began to sting, slowly watering up and filling with salty tears. Damn it. I let them fall from my eyes and roll down my cheeks. Suddenly, my elbow locked out, and I slammed back onto the wood base of the raft… the raft, not my father’s land.

“Daddy! Are you up yet? There’s a leak in the hull again, same spot.”

Scarlett, not Glinda.

“Daddy! Get up, are you”

Transition of Seasons

by Noah Alino '25

The clouds cover the sky

The leaves change and the wind howls

The fall of summer

“Two

Fated Lovers”

(working title)

b y G a b r i e l W a r e g a ' 2 5

F o l l o w i n g a r e e x c e r p t s f r o m a w o r k i n g n o v e l c e n t e r e d a r o u n d t w o f a t e d l o v e r s f o u n d i n a d e w y J a p a n

The dew that enveloped the forest’s various greenery kissed the ground and did its part to dampen the air all around. Housed by the thick trees and shrubbery was a humble home where a then-princess rested long and well before she had been awoken by the rhythmic sounds of hefty amounts of water splashing the bottom of what seemed to be a barrel. Her eyes meet the sun for but a moment before she lets out a rejecting groan and flips over to instead look at the sunbathed floor. Once she gathered her strength and finally left the house to investigate the noise, she exchanged a gaze with another woman. The two gave looks of surprise and scrutiny, with brief confusion being shared between them both.

The princess saw every aspect of the woman as she was sat by the barrel wringing each and every one of the clothes: her jet-black hair dancing in the somber wind that coalesced both her and the grass it gracefully flowed through; her pale skin reflecting the sunlight, highlighting her toned stature in its brightness; her sharp eyes that, even from a distance, could have every detail spotted and accounted for by any person caught by her gaze. They seemed gentle, but one could still see the presence of machinations behind them…most similarly to an animal in hunt, the princess thought.

On the other hand, the princess’ natural beauty was contrasted by her undistinguished sleepwear and her somewhat disheveled hair. Past its messiness was a beautiful length and a color that gleamed in the slightest of glow, most especially natural. The princess’ skin wasn’t nearly as pale as hers, but nonetheless its fairness faced next to no blemishes. Her eyes were soft and were emphasized by her long, lustrous eyelashes.

“Yuko,” the woman called out to the princess. Her tone of voice was plain, but she still bowed her head to signify her respect in her greeting, trying her best to avoid coming off as rude or speaking with angst.

“Good morning, Naoko,” she replied once she slowly walked over to her, only stopping by her to admire the sunrise

“As good as it gets,” Naoko shot back under her breath. Yuko turned and looked at her inquisitively.

“That is to say… ”

“Yuko took a moment to look around to see the dew from the calm rain that came down briefly during the night hiding in the grass. As she stared, the droplets became more conspicuous as they fell from foliage or tiny blades that protruded from the ground, one by one, slowly but surely.

“You worry too much. After all, you are the craftiest one I know. Is it talent, I wonder, or have you simply been taught by the most skilled housekeeper in Japan?” she joked, laughing to herself.

Naoko gave a forced laugh then went back to wringing as her face dampened as much as the cold, soaking clothes she’d been handling for the past hour. Yuko glanced at her as she realized the conversation was beginning to tread into a sensitive topic about her father and his passing, and immediately changed the subject.

“Sorry…” she said under her breath.

“Forget about it.” Naoko responded sharply.

Yuko could sense the abrasiveness and began to speak softly, before trying to return to her welcoming, warm tone of voice.“In any case, I believe you do well enough to maybe treat yourself to a break?” she said as she went over to her and gave a brief hug. Naoko gave a dramatic sigh, albeit failing to fight back a smile that cracked from her always-serious face, dropping some clothes onto the somewhat dry pile.

“I need no rest ”

“You exhaust yourself more than anyone else I have ever known I think you do need some rest ” Naoko turned to her and briefly locked eyes with her before standing up

“I am perfectly fine,” she insisted

Yuko cleared her throat and rose up, standing upright with the kind of stereotypically pompous posture expected of women in royalty that’d make any man in his courtship swoon, with her chest out and her head raised high

“By my royal authority, I hereby order a decree that Naoko of the Sagami Province must, by any and all means necessary, provide herself, through herself or through others, sufficient rest in order to perform at her utmost best ability.” Naoko held back her giggles for a bit before bursting into hysterical laughter as Yuko cracked and did much the same.

“You have no royal authority, fool.”

“Untrue. I am just as royal as the glorious shōgun himself. Now kneel before me, ” she commanded in jest. Naoko rolled her eyes at the comment and picked up the clothes that had become dry under the sun. The light had shone strongly now, and the sun ’ s glare was more prominent. She couldn’t help but smile as it glowed down onto the land and formally greeted them, giving her a deep feeling that the morning wasn’t all catastrophic as she’d made it out to be.

“Did you happen to wake up early because of me? I tried to be as quiet as possible when I made my way out here.”

“I simply happened to awake just after you did. After all, I sleep better when you are near. ” The way Yuko brazenly put it made Naoko blush a bit.

“Well,” she stammered,“I’m glad.” She took the pile and threw them onto the rack that hung the clothes and, one by one, took each piece of clothing and splayed them before hanging them individually to let them take more heat from the sun. Yuko did nothing but stare for the minute or two that she did this, making her feel a bit pressured as she tried her damndest to not glance over and make eye contact

“You’re distracting me ”

“Apologies Your diligent work does not go unnoticed ”

“Evidently” She paused a bit and stared back at her With a wry smile she slowly approached her, circling around the hanging rack and keeping their deep mutual gaze as she stood before her. Yuko tensed up a bit, trying to mask her nervousness with her typical grandiose composure.

“I believe it is clear what I must do,” she murmured.

“What may that be?”

“I must make breakfast, of course. ” She stepped away and gave her stiff neck a bit of a stretch, before doing more stretches with her whole body.

Yuko let out a disappointed sigh and spoke softly as she struggled to find her words.“Well, good. I was not up for making it again, anyhow,” she attempted to tease.

Naoko scoffed, but as she walked back to the house, Yuko quickly grabbed her hand and held onto it tightly, following her shortly.“Has anybody told you that your cooking exceeds any and all expectations?”

Naoko gave a slight smile in self-amusement and paused before responding.

“Why, yes. I learned from my father.”

It had already been a couple of hours since the initial climb

Naoko’s eyes were fixed on her painful, sore feet that were scratched from the rubble below that she walked on. Her geta hardly protected her from the jaggedness of the gravel below, but the mountain’s unkind interactions were not unprompted. One step, a pulsing pain. Another, the pain came later, as the numbness delayed any response in sensation for her. She knew this journey would prove to be taxing, and she felt prepared and capable enough to do anything as soon as she could for the sake of Yuko, but she still felt almost a deep shame for not being able to persevere regardless of the circumstance. Nonetheless, she had to pause for a moment, almost collapsing the instant she bent down to sit herself against a steep drop that scaled up the mountain. Her exhaustion held her heavy breath out slowly as she recollected herself and leaned back, sighing from the small amount of relief she felt.

The clouds that were not so far above were gray and lifeless, existing in limbo between the darkness before a storm and the parting in the light of a beautiful morning. They slowly flowed between one another at a speed that warned of terrible weather that was imminent The land around grew to be shadowy as the dark hid much of the light that tried to make its escape She brushed at her hair to release a few of the curls that came to be from the roughness of the journey she took Her stare could almost pierce the clouds with how intense it was

A gaze so far that her eyes strained from subconsciously prolonging her look at the clouds above

“So tired…” she muttered to herself.“I need…” Before she could finish her sentences, her mind envisioned all those times she spent being treated so well by Yuko and her willingness to

give her the finest cuisine with no return The osechi-ryori she always served, paired with the enchanting aroma of various cooked vegetables, loveliest rice, and tastiest lobster, all in only the finest of jūbako.

Above all else, she remembered the priceless, comely smile she would have, plainly expressing her pride and love in one beautiful grin. It was bliss; heaven, even. She felt in her heart that desire to do anything to protect such a smile, and most especially a heart such as hers. Looking down at her side, she gave a hard look at the sheath of her sword; each time she took even the shortest of glances, she remembered her father’s giving nature and how she was granted the opportunity by him to become the person she is today.

Her father had gifted both the sheath and the blade itself to her once she was late in her teenhood after he felt she could reasonably have one of her own. The sickness suddenly impacting him right before the passing down of the sword always meant so much to her deep down, even if it was ultimately just a coincidence. At any given time that she took a gaze at the sheath during her journey, it felt as though it was almost staring right back at her, asking when it would be relieved of its uselessness and finally serve purpose in slaying the foes that threaten her loved ones yet again

Naoko puffed out her anxieties in one prolonged sigh, and slowly rose up, using the little balance she had to prop herself up against the stone wall. When she suddenly collapsed back onto her knees, she let out a loud, exasperated groan and barely caught herself before she totally fell flat on her face. A hazy vision clouded her ability to assess her surroundings; her depth perception was slowly slipping away from her. The nausea and exhaustion slowed her brain even further,

photo by Sian Chen '27

forcing her to go back to resting best she could as she leaned against the wall again on her side.

“This isn’t good,” she failed to mutter the sentence completely as it was taxing to even think of letting the words leave her mouth She felt as though her heart lost its rhythm as she fought the slow close of her eyes. The word consciousness repeated and bounced in her mind as often as the gallop of her slowing heart could make another effort. All her brain could muster to conceive were various images of Yuko; as the thoughts continued to sprawl, the intensity of her deep breathing persisted, and with each exhale, she pushed herself up, even if just by a little bit. The sheathed sword she still held onto managed to prop her up and serve as support until she could force herself to keep going.

“That smile, that joy… her precious life,” she panted in between the breaths she took to lift herself up, “must be protected. I swear to–” she coughed suddenly, which brought her to calm down just a tad in order to focus.

“I swear to every last god, or beast, or what-have-you, the taunting and hiding will be the very last joys the lot of you will experience in your elongated, tyrannical lives,” she thought as her brows creased and her eyes narrowed, fixating onto the few clouds that seemed to be almost jumping distance from her.

“Slain, all of you All of you, slain ”

artwork by Katie Le

Chapter 2 from

Love, Vanya

a novel by

Charlie Balderrama '25

Summer before high school stretched before them like a golden bridge between childhood and something more complex. They spent it as they had spent every summer playing down by the lake, late night sleepovers, and scrappy stories that came to life. They were inseparable, despite the Davis family’s attempts to involve Cosette in camps that might “broaden her horizons.”

“My horizon is just fine where it is,” Cosette would insist whenever her parents suggested otherwise. She could see that they were worried about her relationship with Vanya being too exclusive. As much as they loved Vanya, her practically being their second child and all, they didn't want Cosette to lack friendships or even relationships because she was too preoccupied.

Knowing that her parents pleaded against their friendship made her uneasy, but also made her think. It didn't make sense. Did she really need other people in her life? Would the expense of her future connections really be at whether she spent time with Vanya? Her mind raced at the thought of her future and with it, made Cossette stand distant.

Vanya noticed the shift immediately the way Cosette's replies to texts came hours later instead of seconds, how their plans became tentative instead of certain She knew better than to ask, better than to cling. If there was one thing her condition had taught her, it was that demanding attention only made people retreat faster. So she waited, and watched, and felt the slow unraveling of something she had thought was unbreakable. On the last day before high school finally started, they met at the lake one final time.

The air hung heavy with unspoken words, with Cosette checking her phone more than usual, with Vanya pretending not to notice."Are you nervous?" Vanya asked, skipping stones across the still water. Her aim was always better than Cosette's, one of the few physical accomplishments she could claim."About high school?" Cosette's voice had a new quality to it lately, a practiced casualness that felt like a mask all on its own."Not really. I mean, it's just school, right?"

But it wasn't just school. They both knew it. It was a new world with new rules, where the protection of childhood would be stripped away, where differences would be magnified. Where the shared history that bound them might not be enough anymore. "Right," Vanya said, watching her stone skip five times before disappearing beneath the surface "Just school "

But Brookfield High was exactly as Vanya had imagined–sprawling, intimidating, alive with the chaotic energy of nine hundred teenagers sorting themselves into hierarchies she could never hope to climb. The hallways felt like a gauntlet, each step exposing her to new eyes, new judgments, new opportunities for cruelty or, worse, pity.

The first day passed in a blur of meetings and introductions. Cosette shared three of her seven classes, including lunch period, which meant Vanya wasn't entirely alone. They sat together in the cafeteria at a corner table, examining their schedules, and mapping routes between classrooms."Mr. Harrington seems cool," Cosette said, referring to their shared English teacher."I liked how he talked about his perspective of Frankenstein." Vanya nodded, about to respond when a shadow fell across their table.

The filthy fluorescent lights dimmed slightly as three figures approached, their movements synchronized like predators that had spotted vulnerable prey.

"Cosette Davis, right?" The voice belonged to a girl with platinum blonde hair and confidence that radiated like heat. Aria Matthews – sophomore, cheer captain, and gatekeeper to social acceptance. Her face was perfect in that generic way that graced teen magazines and commercials for skin products Vanya could never use.

"You're trying out for cheer, aren't you? Coach Taylor mentioned a freshman with competition experience "

Cosette blushed slightly, a delicate pink that enhanced rather than ruined her features "I did competitive gymnastics in seventh grade, but "

"Perfect. We need someone who can tumble. Tryouts are Thursday." Aria's gaze finally slid to Vanya, then away, as if making eye contact might be contagious. The momentary flicker of disgust in her eyes was so familiar to Vanya that it barely registered anymore. “You should sit with us tomorrow. We're over there." She pointed to a center table, occupied by a collection of students who seemed to glow with collective confidence, their laughter rising above the general cafeteria clamor.

After they walked away, a silence fell between them. Vanya stared at her untouched lunch, appetite vanished. The food, being institutional, bland, suddenly seemed appropriate."Are you going to try out?" Vanya finally asked, keeping her voice neutral, as if the answer didn't matter, as if she hadn't seen the naked hunger in Cosette's eyes when Aria mentioned sitting at their table.

Cosette shrugged, pushing her salad around her plate with planned disinterest.

"Maybe. I mean Dad's always saying I should get involved in school activities. Looks good for college applications and all that "

"Right," Vanya said, as she tried to ignore the first threads of dread weaving through her chest. The next day, Vanya arrived at their usual lunch spot to find it empty. She waited ten minutes, checking her phone repeatedly, before looking across the cafeteria. There was Cosette, sitting at the center table, her head thrown back in laughter at something Aria had said. She was radiant in the way only the truly accepted can be. When she finally noticed Vanya watching, her smile faltered, guilt flickering across her face. She gave a small wave that seemed to say " sorry, " but she didn't get up.

Vanya ate alone that day. And the next. By the third day, she had found a quiet corner in the library where food wasn't technically allowed, but the librarian, Mrs. Lawrence, pretended not to notice. There was kindness in her deliberate blindness, the kind that acknowledges suffering without drawing attention to it

Cosette made the cheer squad, of course She had always been graceful, athletic in an effortless way that made physical effort seem simple Vanya attended the first game, watched from the highest bleacher seat as Cosette synchronized perfectly with the squad, her smile bright enough to reach even the back row where shadows gathered and the misfit hid.

Afterward, she waited by the gym doors, as they had arranged. Waited as parents and students filtered out. Waited as the minutes stretched like pulled taffy, sticky and uncomfortable. The gymnasium emptied, leaving just the echo of departed voices and the smell of old sweat. Just as Vanya was about to leave, convinced she'd been forgotten, the locker room door burst open, revealing a cluster of girls in matching uniforms, their laughter bouncing off the walls.

At the center was Cosette, her hair pulled back in a high ponytail secured with a redand-gold ribbon, the school colors displayed like a flag of allegiance."Van!" Cosette broke away from the group when she spotted her, jogging over with a mixture of guilt and genuine pleasure."Sorry, we were celebrating in the locker room. First game and all." She hugged Vanya quickly, a brief embrace that smelled of unfamiliar perfume and new friendships."You didn't have to wait – it's late."

"We said we'd walk home together," Vanya reminded her quietly, aware of the eyes on them, the curious and dismissive glances from Cosette's new friends. She could feel herself being assessed and categorized, and could almost hear the questions forming in their minds. What is she? What happened to her face? Why would Cosette know someone like that?

"Is that your sister?" one of them asked, a voice too clear to ignore. The question was innocent on its surface, but the implication was clear: there must be some obligatory family connection to explain this unlikely friendship.

Cosette tensed slightly, her smile tightening at the corners "No, this is Vanya My best friend We've known each other forever" The words were right, but something in her tone had changed, as if "best friend" had become a historical label rather than a current reality. The silence that followed was critical, weighted with unspoken judgments.

"We're going to Aria's for pizza," another girl said, breaking the awful quiet."Her mom ' s driving. There's probably room for one more, Cosette." The emphasis on " one " was subtle but unmistakable. A verbal door closed in Vanya's face.

“You should go, " Vanya said quickly, before Cosette could be forced to choose publicly. The words came automatically, a defense mechanism against the humiliation of rejection "I've got that biology assignment anyway Text me later?" Relief and guilt battled in Cosette's expression, but relief won "Definitely. I'll call you tonight. We'll talk all about it." She didn't call.

Beneath the Waves: A Diver’s Journey into the Unknown

by Emma Fuller '28

For as long as my memory serves, scuba diving has been woven into my life, thanks to several contributing factors. I was captivated by the stories my dad would tell me about his underwater adventures drifting alongside sharks, discovering deep shipwrecks, and exploring the endless depths of the ocean all firsthand. When listening, I couldn’t help but imagine what it could be like to experience the thrill of diving into the infinite depths of the sea myself, but it wasn’t until years later that my journey below the surface of the sea would begin.

“Theoceanistheplanet’slast frontierwherethesoulisfree.” -JillHeinerth

An opportunity soon arose when I was in second grade; my family moved to Japan. Living in Japan for two years offered me the ability to experience marine life in the firsthand experience that I craved. While there, my family and I took a trip to Okinawa, where we all went snorkeling in the Pacific Ocean. Below the surface, ornately-colored fish swam around with each other, darting in and around the coral. When we dove down and looked up, we could see the sunlight streaming into the water from the sky. It was awe-inspiring to experience marine life so closely. Being underwater and witnessing the technicolor of the world beneath the surface, I felt like I must have been colorblind before that point.

Another thing in Okinawa that I experienced was the Okinawa Churaumi Aquarium. It was here where I got to see two giant whale sharks. Their sheer size was incredible, and they swam like underwater angels, gentle and unyielding After seeing them, it only fueled my desire to swim in the water with these ethereal creatures

When I was around thirteen, my interest in scuba diving resurfaced again when I got into horror and true crime podcasts. Every so often, I would hear about dangerous but alluring cave sites such as Jacob’s Well in Texas. These stories sparked both a deep fascination in and fear of cave diving hearing about the risks that divers took to explore such unknown depths. Cave diving is as dangerous as it is rewarding. Even knowing that such sites are often unforgiving and harsh, my sense of awe from such diving has yet to stray from me.

Soon after, I found out about a woman named Jill Heinerth, a renowned cave diver, underwater explorer, photographer, and filmmaker. Heinerth is known for her exploration of treacherous caverns and other extreme dive sites, like icebergs. Her courage and passion for such things inspired me to view the underwater world as both a place for exploration and discovery where the risks are high, but the rewards are even higher. Heinerth’s experiences showed me how much of a mystery the ocean is, where each dive has the potential to reveal something either incredible or devastating.

Reading and watching Heinerth’s dives under such extreme conditions reminded me of all the things that could go wrong, but rather than feel daunted, I felt only a deep respect and admiration for her knowledge and the rigorous training she has undergone. Her influence has made me more mindful of the skills and discipline needed to explore the ocean into even greater

Finally, around four months ago, I stepped into the deep end and got my certification to dive. My dad, who's been certified for nearly 30 years, offered a ton of insight and wisdom that I still have yet to put into practice Even now, when I enter the water, I feel the luring atmosphere of the underwater realm. Scuba diving has become more than a mere dream for me, but a reality.

On Being an Altar Server

by Gabriel Herrera '25

Pope Francis said that being an altar server is “ a call to prayer and a mission,” like a miniature vocation. For me, it was a chance to do whatever my brothers did. Since my two older brothers, Nicolas and Jackson, had already been altar servers for four and two years, respectively, I decided to join the altar boys as soon as I was old enough.

My parish, St. Theresa Catholic Church in Ashburn, invites boys to become altar servers when they get to fourth grade (I know other parishes allow girls to be altar servers, but mine does not). The priest, Father Thomas, led a special training session where he taught me and several other boys how to prepare for the Mass, how to execute the Mass, and how to ensure everything is properly back in order afterwards. He showed us all the equipment: ciboria, chalices, cruets, everything else that can be seen in the sanctuary, and more. He showed us all the steps in the process of serving, how to bring the equipment to the priest, and pretty much everything one needs to know to help the priests run the Mass.

photo by Sian Chen '27

Being an altar server has greatly strengthened my relationship with God and my parish community. When serving the Mass, it’s important to pay attention; this has allowed me to really listen to the prayers, readings, and homilies without getting distracted as distractions would lead to messing up, which might lead to public embarrassment. I try my best to avoid that!

On a serious note, paying such close attention to the Mass really allows me to deeply understand the words and prayers better. As a server, I’m supposed to set an example for the congregation by praying and singing out loud, as opposed to allowing my mind to drift. This allows me to genuinely pray and sing out loud, which has helped me grow closer to the Lord. Overall, altar serving has been a wonderful experience for me in a spiritual and social sense, and it is a path that I recommend everyone to pursue.

I have been captivated by the history of planes and spacecrafts ever since I watched the Apollo 13 movie in 6th grade. This sparked my passion for history which, in turn, inspired me to secure a position at the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum, create a new club at PVI, and launch my own YouTube channel — an online platform that shares interesting, exciting, and fun facts about space history, current space missions, and future space exploration.

As a space enthusiast and young space historian since the 6th grade, I watch videos, interview professionals in the industry, conduct research, and learn as much as I can about space. When I first became fascinated with the stories behind space capsules, I would eagerly share with my father every new detail I learned. One day, while we were exploring the Smithsonian again, my dad started recording me on his phone — his young 12-year-old son was excited to explain and share what I was learning about all things aircraft and spacecraft related. After filming multiple videos, I eventually learned to edit and post my trove of videos on YouTube to a small (but mighty) audience. I posted my very first video halfway through my freshman year, and was delighted to discover that my peers at PVI love it!

Embracing God’s Gift

by John “Space” Williams '25

Before I knew it, I was given the epithet “SPACE!” after my YouTube channel name, Space Intelligence. Even three years later, that is still my identity. It seems like everyone at PVI equates me with my passion and I am so humbled having had hundreds of students acknowledge my life’s passion and walk by me and say, “Hey, SPACE!”

Last year, I applied to work as an “Explainer” at the Smithsonian Air and Space Museum; much to my delight, I got accepted because of my YouTube channel and have taught thousands of people about the same historical artifacts that sprouted my passion for the subject. Using this momentum, I created an Aerospace & Aviation Club at PVI in which I invite former fighter pilots, PVI student pilots, aerospace engineers, and astronauts as guests to share their experiences and knowledge. I host this club twice a month with a new speaker or activity every meeting.

I couldn’t be more thankful to God for giving me this gift, sparking my passion and shaping my identity around something as enigmatic and beautiful as “Space.”

A SLICE OF NOWHERE

by Catherine Murphy '27

Have you ever been in the middle of nowhere? Like, with no real towns for miles around, seldom touched by the human footprint? Sadly, this isn’t as common as it once was, even as recently as a hundred years ago, and especially not in a relatively suburban area like Northern Virginia, even when you ’ re out in the Blue Ridge. Being nowhere truly is a surreal experience that will make you feel again, absent of the hustle and bustle of traffic and people in general, with just you and empty wildlands as vast as the eye can see. The good news is that if you look, these sanctuaries still exist every so often as you traverse across the vast United States.

Now imagine being truly nowhere, with very little animals and sparse plant life, in addition to a considerable lack of water and presumably narrow food options as well. Throw in scorching heat, if you wish, well over 100° daily, since way before global warming. It might sound like another planet, but this whole world is called Death Valley in Southern California, a mere three hours away from Los Angeles, which I had the privilege of taking in last summer.

My personal favorite landmark found in Death Valley was easily the Mesquite Flat Sand Dunes, since it was the first time I saw actual desert sand I’m saying this since I’d been in deserts before, but those deserts were considerably more rock than sand. The Mesquite Dunes honestly felt just like the beach if it was missing an ocean From afar, the dunes didn’t stretch out too far into the desert, but from the top of a dune they seemed to stretch for miles and miles, almost like the Sahara. The sand itself was hot to the touch, as I found out when I decided to write my name into the sand to mark that I was here, almost like touching a hot stove.

125 ℉ 51℃ Temperature

“It seems to me that the strangeness and wonder of existence are emphasized here, in the desert…with a generous gift of space for each herb and bush and tree…so that the living organism stands out bold and brave and vivid against the lifeless sand and barren rock.”

(Edward Abbey, Desert Solitaire)

Barefoot, walking across the Mesquite sand dunes in the summertime probably felt like treading on hot coals I was hiking up one of the dunes and I suddenly felt like I was in one of those Bible/desert movies, where the character’s slogging up that last sandy hill shielding their eyes with their hands and viewing whatever major landmark’s coming into the view

At one point, while driving through the vast desert (there are literally no services for miles around at some points), we spotted someone with a brightly colored vest walking through the desert We said a prayer for them, thinking their car had broken down and they were desperately trying to get help, until we saw a few more lone folks traversing the roadside through the desert, all wearing the same brightlycolored vest

After researching it, we discovered something we thought was insane: There is a challenge people embark on that involves hiking through remote Death Valley with no vehicle, though ample supplies are obviously a must, as people have been known to collapse and even die of heat stroke in the 115°+ heat.

At night, however, Death Valley goes from simply the middle of desert nowhere to truly feeling like an abyss The first night we were there, we ventured out to Badwater Basin, where almost no light shines on cloudy nights.

The heat doesn’t dissipate much, though, and it truly is surreal to just stand there late at night when you ’ re the only one around, suspended in blazing blackness. Occasionally, a breeze will blow through, which will break the near-complete silence, despite being very hot itself, almost like a hair dryer blowing in your face.

Despite the heat claiming several lives over the years (fly high), that heat has also possibly saved Death Valley from human interference and destruction out of fear, preserving its unique identity. However, the heat doesn’t protect Death Valley from feeling like a little sanctuary of nothingness (in a good way) in a world so dominated by hustle and bustle culture nowadays.

P R I M

by Gabriela Bergstrom '27

“This is ridiculous, Mom!” yelled a boy to his mother

The mother sent a warning look “This is a good moment to stop getting a sharp tongue and be quiet,” she warned. “Besides, it's a nice town, which means not lots of confrontation. Given ya ’ year so far…”

“Oh yeah, the news of expulsion from a school totally spread around the entire world,” replied the boy with a sarcastic tone.

“Watch it. Take a nap or something.”

“Dad, come on, talk some sense to this woman!”

His father was currently passed out in the middle of a nap in the passenger seat.

“First and finally, I am ‘Mom’ to you, not ‘woman.’ Now quit it.”

The boy, Callen P. Cleevis, settled for not testing his mother any further and instead stared out the window of the yellow van. The vehicle was very old, and his parents didn't seem very keen on buying another one, even though this van had its moments of busting its engine Don’t bother asking for their reasoning

And the ‘ridiculous’ thing here was that they were moving from their hometown in Ohio taking a week’s trip to arrive in some random island town on an island off of Denmark. Did they even realize how far they were from that place? No point in fighting about it now since it had been at least five minutes.

Not to mention the entire reason they were probably moving in the first place An incident had happened at his old school where he had thrown something at some people who were giving suggestions about what the ‘P’ stood for.

Don’t ask.

Now Callen had thought of throwing a projectile across the classroom, but he didn't. Nor was he close enough to grab something too. But everyone claimed he got up from his seat, threw something that went towards the window, causing it to shatter. And the weirdest thing about the whole incident he found a bunch of sprouting flowers a mix of purple ones growing on the back leg of his desk!

The flower detail even got weirder. No one he asked said or remembered anything about flowers under the desk, and they were clearly visible. He sat in the very front, so everybody should have seen them.

And as an addition to the Great Flower Mystery, his parents could have just sent him to a different school in the area. But NO, they must move to an entirely different place and school He sort of got why this was happening; he had (kind of) wrecked the window of a school classroom. And the flowers were weird. But when he told his mom, Molincene, about the plant part, (his mom’s family had a knack for creating the strangest names for their children) went more berserk than a person ought to when they hear about purple flowers growing from school floor tiles She had insistently urged them to move to the town in Denmark His father, Joseph, after hearing the story from Molincene, became the most serious he had ever seen his dad.

Not like his dad was serious anymore now. He looked very silly while he was sleeping. His glasses were even falling off, with his brown hair sticking to his forehead.

Well, time to see what happens now, Callen decided

LCOME TO MBURRY

The route sign, with tall weeds and foliage growing around its base, read: WELCOME TO PRIMBURRY The broad white letters were significantly peeling off from time and harsh weather.

The Cleevis family’s van pulled into the town of Primburry. Callen could see why the place was named how it was. There were many flower beds decorating certain areas of the town in different colors: pinks, reds, whites, oranges, yellows. They were everywhere like crazy

The ratio of buildings to flower patches could never be matched. Compared to the numerous counts of primroses, there were barely any buildings at all. The only ones he could spot while they were driving down were a grocery store, a school and its playground, a flower shop, a plaza, a library, and a post office (that Callen soon happily discovered had a built-in joint arcade; hence, a reason Callen then slightly forgave his parents for moving here). There was, behind the playground, an area of woods It seemed to be quite big, most likely the biggest area in town

Currently, they were driving to Oceancreek, the only neighborhood in Primburry At this point, Callen knew that there wasn't going to be more of one thing in this town -- except this one detail: how small the houses were. Think regular townhouses, but even smaller and times it by two.

Once they had arrived at their new house, The Cleevis family spent the rest of the afternoon hauling all the boxes they fit in their car before the trip (the rest were on other moving vans - they would arrive later in the week). Right after, Molicene tasked him to buy flowers from the local plant shop a few blocks down. She claimed the kitchen needed some pop of color.

“Strange timing for the need of flowers, but guess I can explore some more now, ” Callen mumbled to himself while leaving through the door His mom had handed him a twenty

“Straight to the flower shop. No detours to the arcade, mister. You ain’t gonna use the rest of it,” she called out from inside.

He headed over to the arcade. It would be fine, seeing as the botany store was right across from the arcade. Though he thought he should probably buy the flowers first before playing video games so that Molicene wouldn't notice the little change from the twenty. Just use the leftovers and claim flowers here aren't cheap, he thought. Callen was midway down the walk over to the post office/arcade place, or what the correct term it was His memory was correct; the flower shop was right across the street About to cross, he checked for cars

Now that he thought about it, he wouldn't really need to check for cars or wait for traffic to subside anymore. He hadn't seen anybody around anywhere. No cars in the lots, no people in the plaza, sidewalks, nowhere. Back at his old home there would always be at least a couple of kids running around in the grass. Molicene was right, much less confrontation With that, Callen crossed the street

The flower shop sign read Wendall’s Botany. Buying the flowers would not take too long. He’ll grab them, leave, dip to the arcade-

“You shouldn't lie to your mum.”

Surprised by the sudden voice from behind him, Callen hit his head while opening the door. He turned around to find a messy-haired girl standing behind him

“Uh I-I’m sorry?” He asked, rubbing the spot that was bruised from hitting the door.

“You shouldn't lie to your mum.”

This was…awkward.

The girl’s style was considered messy. Her eyes were green, hair cut short to her shoulders with thin streaks of white and light purple seeping through the blonde It appeared unkempt as if she hadn't brushed it for a while. She had bandaids on her elbows and knee possibly from tripping over stones and sidewalks? There was dirt on sections of her jean overalls and shirt, displaying a print of a white rose design on its side pocket.

“So who are you?” Callen attempted to ask But with no answer, the girl only pushed past him and entered through the door.

“Wha- excuse me!” he exclaimed after her. Callen followed her path into Wendall’s Botany. People aren’t meant to drop a bomb of speech and just leave, he thought. Also how did she know he would lie to Molicene?

He saw her turn a corner down one of the aisles the section with purple, white, and light blue primroses for sale, $2.30 a bloom. He finally caught up to her spot and was ready to confront (for once) about the encounter...

But it was not necessary; she was not there.

At least the rest of his day had the potential to be normal.

The owner of Wendall’s Botany was Mrs. Wendall, an old woman married to her husband for 20 years. After the girl had disappeared from the store, Callen brought a couple random Lily of the Valley flowers for Molicene, giving up $10 50 to purchase. He did plan on taking a small trip to that arcade, but with that encounter with the disappearing girl, he figured he shouldn’t.

“Moli- Mom, I’m back,” Callen said entering the house.

“In the kitchen. Put ‘em on the side counter,” she instructed, and so he did

“Hope you didn’t spend the rest of it I gotta give rent today Good thing it’s cheap here in Oceancreek.” Callen froze a bit. Now he was glad he hadn't spent the rest of the twenty.

“Anyways, stay in your room. Dinner will be in a bit,” Molicene said, shooing him upstairs. His room was barely filled since their furniture hadn’t arrived to Primburry yet All there was in his room was a sleeping bag and a few boxes filled with figurines, books, and clothes. A window let the only source of light in the room since his parents had gotten the electricity set up for the whole house yet.

Callen faced the window. He spotted a small creek in the woods behind his house. If he couldn’t spend much time at the arcade, he could be there instead although his mother said to stay up here since dinner would be soon.

He peeked down at the ground. There was a fire escape slightly below his window. Callen estimated that it would take at least another ten minutes before Molicene called him again. And there wasn't anything to do here, so why not? He had sneaked out before back at his old place, so it would be easy

Callen crawled through the window and landed on the escape. The metal was not dried from past rainy weather, most likely before his family arrived.

He slid the ladder down making sure it didn’t crash on the ground and alert Molicene; he stepped to the ground, heading his way to the creek.

He began making his way to the thicket, walking over piles of leaves

Wait.

It wasn't the fall season. The trees still had all their leaves on their branches. And the grass around him was an entire natural green.

Callen faced down. Instead of leaves, below him was the exact patch of purple-shaded flowers from his old school mixed with the same blue primroses he had seen from the shop. Facing back at his window, the flowers formed a path in the same direction he walked on the ground, also growing along the fire escape and his windowsill.

Where had these come from?

He debated whether to continue to the creek or turn back Seeing as he was already close to the woods, he kept walking. Flowers continued to form wherever he stepped, making his plant path longer.

Hey, what happened to the rest of his day being normal?

Callen reached the creek. The second he stopped on one of the stones near the water, the flowers stopped. Instead they began to grow around the rock, seemingly determined to try and stay connected to where Callen was going.

“What in the world?” he mumbled.

“My name is . ”

A strong gust of wind drowned out the end of someone’s statement.

Callen swerved around. The same girl from before stood on the other side of the skinny river on a different stone Expecting her to look the same before, she now had a long lavender tinted dress that reached all the way down to the dirt. The bottom of her dress was dirty like her overalls. Her hair had the same colors, but was somehow longer now down to the end of her back. A similar purple flower that was in Callen’s trail lay nestled on the side of the dress and in the side of her hair. The only thing the same about her appearance were the eyes, still green

“Pardon?” He said.

“You’ll be fine. Just hold your breath.”

“Wait, what?.”

The girl raised her hand slightly and flicked her finger to the right. Something behind Callen started to move. Before he could turn around, it pushed him into the creek. Taking the advice, he held his breath, surprised by how really deep it was but also extremely ready now to demand what on earth her game was with pushing him into the water. He swam back to the surface, wiping off the water from his face. “You have a lot of nerve to jump, scare, and push people into water!” Callen yelled as he climbed out.

“What in the world?” he mumbled.

“My name is ”

A strong gust of wind drowned out the end of someone’s statement.

Callen swerved around. The same girl from before stood on the other side of the skinny river on a different stone. Expecting her to look the same before, she now had a long lavender tinted dress that reached all the way down to the dirt.

The bottom of her dress was dirty like her overalls Her hair had the same colors, but was somehow longer now down to the end of her back. A similar purple flower that was in Callen’s trail lay nestled on the side of the dress and in the side of her hair. The only thing the same about her appearance were the eyes, still green.

“Pardon?” He said.

“You’ll be fine. Just hold your breath.”

“Wait, what?.”

“How on earth am I going to explain this to my mom? ‘Hi, mother, I sneaked out of the house and then a random girl pushed me into a deep creek after a bunch of flowers kept showing up under my feet when I walk Am I magic, mom?’ Like what!?”

“Sorry there, lad. Must’ve pushed into you without looking. Although, kind of mysterious, a boy climbing out of a window when I thought nobody was here. Also, what about these flowers? I don’t see any. ”

He turned back to where the girl was standing, or rather, where she did stand In her place was a man sporting a a beige widebrimmed hat and a black trench coat that reached down to his brown boots. He was tall, had gray eyes, and orange hair that was thinning near the forehead.

The surroundings were different as well. Instead of the trees and ground being green like they were before he fell in, the greenery had turned to the colors of fall. The grass was less of a deep natural green and the trees were losing their leaves, letting them fall to the ground and becoming mixed piles of red, orange, and yellows. His flower trail had changed, too. The plants had now become a skinny brick path, weeds poking out from the cracks.

“You alright, lad?” the man questioned. “Haven’t hit your head on the rocks, have you?”

The simple rushing creek in the woods was most definitely not a simple rushing creek in the woods.