SONAR 2018

SONAR

SF Day Literary Magazine 2018

Each spring, San Francisco Day School upper school students (grades 5-8) are invited to submit a piece of writing to be considered for publication in SONAR, the SF Day literary magazine.

Poems, stories, and short and long personal essays written in and out of school are all acceptable submissions.

Each year, our upper school English teachers read through each piece. They select exemplary writings from each grade for publication.

Congratulations to our 2018 SONAR winners!

You can download the online SONAR 2018 issue (and archived issues): www.sfday.org/sonar

2018 SONAR Winners 5th Grade - all memoirs “Forced Fear” by Kimia Amiri “A Bad Partnership” by Natalie Kress “Gone” by Olive Song “The Great Migration” by Sebastian Whittaker 6th Grade “The Spinning Moon” (an original myth) by Maya Egrie “My Name,” a poem by Julia Martinez “After The Odyssey,” a “lost chapter” of Homer’s Odyssey by Kazuo Nakamura Lost Chapter of the Odyssey by Tyler Nonaka 7th Grade “You Say Tomato, I Say Tomato” by Josie Flanagan “Rainy Days” by Lucie Hollein “The Woods” by Wyatt Losey “Lakeside Annoyance” by Nicholas Sokolov 8th Grade Mockingbird Monologue in the voice of Walter Cunningham, by Dewie Egan Mockingbird Monologue in the voice of Mayella Ewell, by Emilio Huizar “When It’s All Over” A Memoir by Marijne Kunst “Red Eyes” A Memoir by Kate Wilkens

5th GRADE Forced Fear Kimia Amiri

Sometimes, risks pay off. The feeling of overcoming a fear, the way it swells my soul and bends my mouth into a smile, the fact that something so dreaded is now familiar, it feels good. It makes me proud. It makes me happy. Unfortunately, you, dear reader, will not experience any of that proudness or soul-swelling goodness in this story.

It was the summer going into fourth grade, and I was attending the Hamilton Pool summer camp. Here, the younger kids’ portion of the pool was a mere one lane, and the older kids’ pool was five. If I, or any other swimmers in my lane, wanted, we could pass a test to swim in the older kids’ pool. No one had done it yet, and I do not like to be the first to try new things. I waited for the others to take the test, but to the other kids in my portion of the pool, what we had was enough.

Not for me. I longed for freedom and cold pool water. My body craved openness, not the cramped feeling of our over capacitized lane. And so, I took the test. At the end, the lifeguard granted me a bright orange bracelet.

After flipping and diving for a while, I once again wanted more. Yet this time, there was no upgrade available for me.

But there was plenty of adventure. The untouched tubes on the poolside, the calmness, yet thrill of the deep end, the bubbly splashes of the water slide… After thinking, I decided on exploring my options. I wanted an upgrade, after all.

After my deep end exploration and the lifeguard refusing anyone who wanted to play with the floats, I stared up at the orange tubed slide, which ended eight feet over the water.

“Why don’t you go on the slide?” my sister, Camillia, suggested as she found me gazing up at it. I watched as a girl came out of the tube, and plunged into the icy water.

“No, thank you.” I replied. Forget upgrade. This is good.

“Come on,” Camillia pushed on.

“No,” I answered.

Camillia kept going, and I regretted even thinking about more.

“No!” I yelled.

“Come on, do it!” Camillia dared.

“Fine.” I rolled my eyes and strutted across the poolside, over to the water slide. Above the rusty metal stairs, I looked down at the people who had come out of the tube and shot into the water, examining the speedy river streaming over the dark orange plastic. I shook my head, and trekked over to the safety of the pool.

“Why didn’t you do it?” Camillia frowned.

It was the second day of swim camp, and I had passed the swim test yet again. However, today, my friend had also taken the test and passed. Without blinking, she walked over to the slide, and gracefully slid into the tube. My sister’s friend, Abby, shook her head disapprovingly at me.

“She’s two years younger than you, and she went on the slide!” Abby gaped. I stared at the gray poolside concrete beneath me and hung my head. Slowly, I dragged my feet over to the stairs that led to the slide. Abby beamed at me, and I returned it with a pained smile. I looked down at where I would be going. I could only see a sharp orange turn with water sloshing against it. My eyes slowly scrunched shut, my arms and feet crossed, and I released the slide bar.

The water swept me with a smooth, yet speedy current, quicker than it looked. Right away, my back brushed against the wall, and gather even more unwanted speed. That could only be the turn I was staring at only a few moments ago. Then I felt it. It was as if I was flying for a brief second. Nothing to depend on, free, yet trapped in a fusion of air and water. Finally, the smooth feeling of water engulfed me, and I rose up to the mass of bubbles looming above. Abby, of course, was there to pull me out.

“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Abby smiled.

“No. Not scary at all.” I gulped as I plastered a forced smile on my wet face.

“Do you want to go again?” Camillia asked me.

I shake my head.

A Bad Partnership Natalie Kress

I was never really the nicest person. Today it would only get worse.

I heard the teacher give a clap. The whole class gave the same clap back. Math was starting. I saw everyone’s eyes pointed towards her, and a few that gazed at something they thought was more important.

“Today we will be doing posters for the sub sandwich fraction problem,” Ms. Hatem explained. I perked up a little, more attentive than I was a second ago. Math was one of my favorite subjects and still is, and I was very interested in all of the fractions we were learning.

“Here are the partners,” she announced, sliding the paper under the elmo.

“Please be a girl. Please be a girl,” I thought in my head like I did everytime we had a partnership. I wasn’t kind to any boys, but with girls I felt more comfortable. I frowned and rolled my eyes to the back of my head after I peered at the name of my partner. I didn’t prefer to hang out with this particular person. I had never once said anything nice to him.

Ever.

I already knew this partnership was a bad idea.

When we started, I was stuck on my plan: “We cut a piece from the edge of each sandwich and one person gets the cut pieces and the rest of the people get one of the bigger pieces.” I talked rapidly, leaving no time for him to comment. When he did share, I stared at his poor handwriting in his notes, disgusted. I most likely also verbally expressed my opinions. Fortunately, I realized he was thinking the same way as I was. It wouldn’t have mattered though. I would’ve done it my way even if he had totally different thinking. Once we finished “discussing,” I got the approval of the teacher and grabbed a poster.

“Write your name,” I ordered. He did as he was told. I bit my lip with the fear of him messing up. I’m guessing he was expecting a part in the rest of our project, but that wasn’t the case. While he sat patiently, I wrote all of what I talked about with my own diagrams, I colored everything in, and then it was time to start working on the other half of the project: comparing the fractions.

Later, I saw a teacher hovering over students to peek at what they were doing. Then a thought occurred to me. I peeked over at my partner staring into space just sitting there. He literally wasn’t doing anything!

I looked at the clock. About thirty minutes had passed since we started. A bit of panic struck me. My eyes widened slightly. I could have told him to do something, but he would mess the poster up. I saw the teacher passing over table after table until she reached ours. I was over half-way done with the poster.

“So what are you guys doing?” she asked. She looked at both of us, but I explained what I was doing, because my partner, well, wasn’t doing anything. Then the dreadful question I hoped she wouldn’t ask came.

“What is your partner doing?” she questioned.

I answered in “um’s” and “uh’s” because the only answer was the one I was trying to avoid. “Well… nothing,” I finally replied.

“Ok. Let’s try to find a way to incorporate him.” Her sweet tone made my stomach curdle. I nodded slightly, not giving eye contact. That was not something I was planning to do. I stared at her back until she was far enough away where she couldn’t hear me.

“Why don’t you,” I paused, scanning my poster, “color in this stick figure.” I knew it wasn’t what the teacher was looking for but at least it was something. He rolled his eyes slightly. I didn’t know why he was putting up with this. Was it because he didn’t want to do the work or was he was afraid of what would happen if he asked to be included? I didn’t want to think about it. He colored slowly. He was being very careful. I still flinched at his every move.

Finally, we turned the poster in. I was very confident in my work. I placed it on the table with my head high.

The day came when we got our feedback. The teacher chose a few examples of efficient work. I saw our poster. A tiny smile plastered my lips. I knew I could do it. She pulled our poster out of the pile. Well, my poster I guess. She showed the part where I compared the fractions. I was ready to explain.

“Come up here and tell us what you did,” she pointed at my partner. My mouth fell open as I watched him walk up to the board. I quickly pulled it back up. I already knew he didn’t know what the poster was about.

He stammered on, reading the poster as he went, and trying to understand all of my work. I tried to hide my face beneath my hand. He was making a mockery of everything I did. I knew from the start he would mess it up. Now he truly was. After what felt like hours of torture he finally finished. Then, my teacher turned to the rest of the class and asked, “What do you think went well and what do you think the poster needed a bit of work on?” She called on someone.

The person criticized the entire strategy of the poster, and complemented the order in which I organized my visual model. The words were slow and painful, more than they should’ve been. I saw what felt like one million eyes staring me down, shrinking the ego I built up so high when making my poster. I blinked longer than normal and I felt my face burning. I questioned myself, “How could I mess this up? I was so sure about it.”

I watched as she showed the other posters. They all had the same strategy. The most efficient one. this, and even though it hasn’t been flawless, it’s definitely better than last year.

The one we didn’t have. As I distantly gazed at all of the presentations, I remembered how Ms. Hatem tried to redirect me. I knew that the teacher is usually right, but this time I thought I was right. I wasn’t.

Everyone hates the feeling of failure, but for me, it takes longer to get over it. I knew that I would have to work harder to fix the mistake I made. Now, in 5th grade, I’ve made growth with asking people what they think and incorporating their ideas, and listening when the teacher redirects me. No one’s perfect, but I’ve worked harder to reach this goal because it will be so important in life. This year, I’ve been given a lot of chances to do own.

Gone Olive Song Chapter 1 I woke up to the sound of feet pounding the stairs. Staying in bed and I listened, wondering what my family was doing so early in the morning running up and down. My mother burst into the room.

“Get ready! Were going to Korea,”she said quickly.

My head shot up and I stared at her, my hair wild and my eyes groggy.

Through the haze of sleepiness, my eyes found hers, and I noticed that her eyes were swollen, and bloodshot. A frown slipped across my face.

“Why? Why are we going to Korea?”I asked curiously. My mother looked at me sadly.

“Grandfather died,” she said weakly, and collapsed into sobs.

Seeing my mother cry was the worst thing. It made my stomach feel like it was full of worms. I comforted her every time. Every time she was sad. I would comfort her now. A weight dropped in my stomach. Grandfather dead? The man that greeted me every time I came with a strong hug? I was never very close to him. I blinked back tears. I got up and gathered my clothes for the trip. It would be short. 3 days in all. Going to Korea would be good though, especially for my mother. To see her family, and to have somebody understand what she was going through would help her. I hoped so.

Chapter 2 I saw her first. My aunt! Oh, I couldn’t wait to see her! I waved to her, and she looked up and gave me a small smile. It had taken me a long time to find her. The airport was really crowded today, and for a while I had swiveled my head around like an owl in an effort to look. My mother and my aunt embraced and I came down from the bench to say hi. It wasn’t far until I heard my mother’s sobs. They jolted me back to reality and the reason we were here.

Chapter 3 The plane ride felt small in comparison to everything that was happening. Usually I would sit there for hours and watch movies, but this time I just layed down my head and slept. When I woke up, I watched Seouls many apartments as we flew over them. The lights shone brightly, and the towers flashed their blinking lights. Red, white, red, white. The lights lulled me to sleep but in the blink of an eye I was awake again.

“We’re here!” My mother said clearly. I rushed out of the plane, and we raced through baggage claiming. In a few minutes we we’re loading our bags on a taxi. Soon we pulled up in front of a tall building, and I raced inside the hotel. But the night wasn’t over.

Chapter 5 As soon as we got into the hotel we were running out of it, in our haste to get to the funeral home quickly. I was now wearing a black dress with a sweater, my brother wearing a suit. We drove to the funeral home, and my family walked inside. My cousin ran up to my brother and I and talked. “...You will get used to it soon. There is this really cool room with a computer in it to play games!”he said excitedly. The last comment was directed at my brother. He talked loud and fast, and led us around. I zoned out, and sleepily tagged along like a dog at it’s owners heels. He eventually led us to a small room with a computer. My brother grinned at the computer.

“We’ll have some fun today!” He announced.

As soon as he said that, my aunt burst into the room. She hugged me and my brother warmly, and told me and my cousin we had jobs to do. She told me I would hand flowers to the people who came to pay their respects to Grandfather, and she told my cousin that he would straighten the shoes of the people who came to pay their respects. We rushed out, and soon I stood with multiple flowers clutched in my hand, and my cousin waiting next to me. In the center of the room, there was a mat and a picture of Grandfather. There was a bouquet of flowers surrounding his picture.

A man and a women stepped in and I handed him a flower and bowed. He smiled at me, and went in front of the picture, set the flower down in front and bowed once, then again. I knew enough Korean history to know that the first bow was to say hello to Grandfather, and the second bow was to say goodbye. My cousin gave me a tap, and I realized I hadn’t given the women a flower. I smiled, bobbed my head, and bowed. I gave her a flower, and murmured a greeting to her in Korean. She walked in and copied what the man had done. I watched, mesmerized. I had never seen Korean culture so strongly before.

I walked up to her and hugged her. She accepted my hug gratefully.

“I’m tired,”I whined. It wasn’t long before I fell asleep.

Chapter 6 I woke up quickly, knowing the routine. I walked outside with my family and we drove to the Funeral Building. Another long day of standing, bobbing my head, and handing out flowers. By the time I was done, I wanted to plunk down on the couch and take a nap. A ten hour nap. I walked away sleepily to the dining room, and slumped down next to my brother, and started robotically shoveling food in my mouth. My head jerked back suddenly. SPICEY! I immediately gulped mouthfuls of water into my mouth and sighed, relieved, as the water cooled my mouth. One more day. Soon I would be home.

Chapter 7 I woke up blinking the sun out of my eyes. It would be the last day I would be in Korea. My mother was up and ready, and when she saw me she gave me a smile. It was time for another day.

As soon as I walked through the doorway, I felt a familiar feeling wash over me. We spent so much time here now and I knew every nook and cranny. Searching for my cousin, I found him in the computer room with my brother. He looked up at me and grinned.

“I hope you have walking shoes,” he said, his gaze flickering on my black shiny dress shoes.

“What do you mean?” I asked curiously.

“We’re going to be walking a lot today. To Grandfather’s house and the burial site.”

I nodded my head and sat down. The door opened, and my mother walked in.

“Get ready! We’re going on a long bus trip to the burial site,” she said.

“How long?” I asked.

“Four hours.” My jaw drifted open, and I closed it with a clop.

Chapter 8 We were there.’There’ was a barren land with few plants and the sun beating down on me. Walking over to my mother, I watched as people loaded my grandfather’s wooden coffin into a limousine. My mother trembled, and I wrapped my arms around her. In a few minutes we were all walking after the limousine as it drove in front of us. My feet scuffed the dust, and sent up dust clouds. We passed barking dogs and old houses, until we stopped in front of another house. This was the house where grandfather grew up. The house had a path leading up to it, and it gave me a sense of family. I walked Up the stairs with my family and we all silently took off our shoes. Almost tentatively, we stepped into the threshold of the house. Once we were inside, I saw pictures of my grandfathers family. I peeked inside all the rooms. They were almost identical. They each had wooden floors, white walls, and sliding doors.

We were quickly ushered outside, and were soon walking back outside. Soon, my legs started feeling like a robots legs, moving of their own accord, as if they had a life. We walked up a small hill, and we were there.

Chapter 9 There was a deep hole in the middle of the clearing, with a small excavator next to it. The people carrying Grandfathers coffin carefully lowered it into a hole. The excavator slowly scooped soil over the coffin, and before long it was as if the dirt had eaten the coffin. We solemnly distributed food and layed out wine and traditional Korean food on a small table in front of the small bump that marked Grandfathers final resting place. Then our family stepped forward and we performed the two bows, hello, and goodbye. As one, we each laid a flower on Grandfather’s grave.

Even though it’s been two years since Grandfathers death, I know that it still affects my family. Even though he has passed away, he is still looked up to, loved, and remembered.

The Great Migration Sebastian Whittaker

One day something went wrong. It was never supposed to happen. My dad got a posting to America.

You see a posting is a thing you get when you work in the British Foreign Office. It means that you need to go and do a job in another country. This was bad news. Currently I was residing in the only home I remembered ,and now boom we´re off.

I broke the news to my friends the next day and they pulled sour faces. We sat down and exchanged our thoughts.

“What did you just say. I think I heard something wrong. This is crazy.” shrieked my friend Emiliano, who I had known since I was three.

“Its ok, you can visit and we can mail each other” said George who’s house I had been to 27 times.

They tried to raise my mood but it just plunged further down into the abyss in which my conscience was resting in. The rest of the day passed like that. So did all the other days until the last day of school. The summer break was looming over me looking dark and ominous.

It was last period, the last time I would ever see my friends at school. We had exchanged emails and promised to write to each other once a week. Then we entered our class room and left each other to go to our history tables. I hated history “ Queen this. King that. Great invention. Blah , blah.” I sat down and prepared for the worst, the worst being a test on Queen Victoria’s overseas successes. My ears perked up and I straightened my back, what had the teacher just declared? I poked my partner and shrugged my shoulders.

“She’s handing out plates that we can do stuff with.”

“Even throw them?”

“No, decorate them.”

“Right.”

Now that kick started the helicopter that was going to heave me out of my abyss. I decided to try and get everyone to sign my plate even my teacher, Ms. Taylor. Throughout the class, I slowly wandered from table to table, person to person collecting signatures for my plate.

As I heard the cab’s engine start, I closed my eyes and slowly began to roll open the window that was the barrier, the only thing stopping me from saying my last goodbye. The engine reved and off the cab went with us crammed in the back and our bags packed behind us. I raised my hand in a motion that symbolised I was leaving. My Grandma gazed back her eyes glazed with tears. As we turned the corner and my house disappeared from view. The gray skies and the old houses whizzed by as I raised the panel of glass that would cut me off from the world outside that made me feel so drowned. That is the situation in which I left the place I had the most memories, most friends , most family ,and most joy. All because my dad got some stupid job in america.

At the airport we sat in a row of four seats. I gazed at nothing in particular my brain no longer processing my surroundings. This was the last place I would sit that was truly rooted in my home.

When we arrived in San Francisco a man from my dads new office came to pick us up in the car that was going to be ours until we left. He brought water and a game of checkers for me and Gabe.

As we drove through the city I felt as if the world had started spinning the wrong way around. All the cars were huge, the roads were huge and the city had long cables suspended above the road. I asked what they were and the man from the office ,who’s name was Philip, told me that they gave the buses power. The buses must be very different here I thought to myself. This country was different too it was big, fat ,mean, stupid and ugly. As well as feeling carsick I was also feeling America sick. All because of this yucky city.

A few weeks later we headed off for a thing that was definitely going to be stupid. It was called the Picnic in the Presidio. When we finally arrived (oh no it couldn’t be close like everything was in London) all I saw was a big grassy field (pa we had plenty of those were I came from) and food trucks. But all of those feelings landed on their heads when we sat down with the food we had got from the trucks and I bit into a huge ball of cheesy dough. It was called a parmachan donut hole and it was the best thing I had ever eaten.

Now I know what real spirit food is. As it’s doughy goodness warmed my stomach and my heart I realised that there might be some cool things in San Francisco too.

Even further after that when our possessions arrived. I was as cheerful as I ever was . During that day we unpacked, moving boxes from one room to the next.

As we settled into our new home and I started to shed of some dark sticky goo that used to cling to me. Then eventually I stopped calling it our new house and started calling it our home. As I sat there gazing at the plate on my dresser decorated by my old classmates a reminder of the past ,my two homes became equal within me.

So for any of you reading this, if you ever move ,sometimes leaving things behind isn’t so bad, because you get new memories, new friends and more fun.

6th GRADE The Spinning Moon Maya Egrie

Before there even was a moon, there was Asara the sun goddess. Thanros may have been king of the gods, but some considered Asara even more powerful. When Asara was in the sky, the people on earth lived happily in her golden light. When she was asleep and the sky went dark, the people slept. No sun meant a no crops. Life on earth (literally) revolved around the sun. Ordinarily, Thanros would be furious if another god became more powerful than him, but even though Asara had the most control over the human’s lives, but Thanros was the king and he could control Asara, so a silent agreement was made and they all lived peacefully for many months, until one single person changed this all.

Her name was Polia. She lived in the small coastal town of Idhania in a cabin only half a mile from the beach. It was a friendly town filled with fishermen and merchants. Polia looked like a ghost. She had very pale skin, hair the color of octopus ink at midnight, and grey eyes. Despite her appearance, Polia was actually very cheerful. Her brothers would go on fishing trips to make money and she would stay home alone, which she actually didn’t mind. In her spare time, she would dance, and she became very good at it. One day, she was dancing for the people in Idhania, and a traveler saw her and fell in love with her. This was not good love, it was evil love, and the traveler became greedy. He wanted Polia for himself, and after the performance he grabbed her and rode off with her to the east. She screamed, but there was nothing the people could do. They watched with melancholy and despair.

The man’s name was Yonod. He was the prince of a faraway country. He was already engaged, but loved Polia and her dancing, so when he became king, he made her his personal dancer. Polia ate, dressed, and was treated like royalty, but for hours at a time she would reluctantly dance in uncomfortable and elaborate costumes while King Yonod and the queen laughed and clapped and the band played lively music. As the weeks passed, her body became more and more sore. At first, the dancing made her stronger, but as she was pushed to her limits, she became weaker. Late nights entertaining at parties until sunrise just to do matineé the next day made her sluggish. Finally, about two years after her capture, she dropped down dead, right in the middle of the princess’s sixth birthday party.

The gods were very angry. They punished Yonod and his family with sore feet for the rest of eternity.

Thanros had planned to make Polia a star, but the star god argued that that honor was only for warriors who died from fighting a war.

“You’re right!” said Thanros. “This girl deserves something better!” He went on to devise a plan to honor Polia. Finally, he had an idea. He made Polia a night-sun, or as it is called now, the moon.

The people on earth rejoiced. Children were no longer afraid of the dark because they had their own cosmic night light. Everyone loved the moon and honored her with festivals and feasts. They spent more nights outside having fun. No longer the most important one in the sky, Asara became jealous. Of course, she could never meet Polia as they were never in the sky at the same time, but she overheard conversations.

“A beautiful round ball of silver,” a mortal remarked.

“Is my golden shine not good enough for them?” she shouted to herself. That evening as she was setting she caught a glimpse of the moon rising. Polia really was beautiful. As she sunk down over the horizon she called, “I order you, turn around and shine your face away from the earth!” Sadly, Polia could not disobey a more powerful goddesses. She turned her face away from the earth and her black hair towards it.

While looking at the stars, she recalled dancing in Idhania. Her favorite thing to do had been twirling quickly all around the yard. The world looked magnificent blurred and turning. She wanted to twirl right away, but remembered Asara’s order. However, Asara never said how long she must face backwards. She began to pirouette in the sky. Everyday she turned a little more. When Polia is facing forwards, you can see all of her face and her grey eyes. When she is backward, only her black hair is visible and she blends in with the sky.

Then there is profile view and everywhere in between. And Asara still shines, and Polia still turns, and the two goddesses in the sky are at peace again.

My Name Julia Martinez My name is Julia Elizabeth Martinez. It’s a Latin and Italian name. From Shakespeare’s Julius to meaning just young. My name is Roman, African, and French. I am young and strong. I love my name. When I hear my name I think of empowerment, and it may be common, but when I hear my mother or father call my name it sounds like it’s just for me. Julia, as soft as a sparrow’s fresh morning sound and as sharp as a snake. The nicknames could be endless but my name is my name. I still stop in my tracks when I hear my friend down the hall call me Hulie, Ulie, Juju. The nicknames are a sign of familiarness and care. When I hear them I know soon that I’ll receive a hug or a guess who? from a close friend. But when I hear my name I feel like my own person. I am my mother and her mother’s mother. My middle name is Elizabeth, and so is my mom’s. My mom and I are like two peas in a pod, and I share my birthday with her and my great grandmother. My name is mine and I love the way it sounds when it rolls off the tip of my tongue. Julia, Julia, Julia. My name is a part of me, my family, and my friends. My name is mine and mine to keep.

After the Odyssey Kazuo Nakamura

One day, a decade after his famous odyssey with the Trojan Horse, Ulysses was on an island called Argos. On a quest to reclaim glory.

Since the days of his adventure, he had lost many of the traits that had made him famous including his strength, kindness, and cleverness. He was no longer known for his bravery but was instead known for his hubris. After noticing that his own people no longer treated him with respect, he had summoned his son, and embarked on one final quest. One he had hoped would ensure his acceptance into Elysium.

“Are you plagued by any monsters or beasts?” Ulysses asked the King of Argos, an island in the Aegean Sea.

“Yes, a horde of monsters called the Nhasug. They are beasts with a single horn on their forehead and are unbelievably reckless. They can be found on the other side of this island.”

So Ulysses and his son walked to the other side of the island, leaving the rest of their men to guard their ship for Ulysses wanted to face his challenge fairly. One their way to the other side, they passed through a humid jungle encountered many signs warning them to stay away.

“Are you positive about this decision?” Telemachus asked his father after the third warning sign.

“I shall not be swayed from my purpose. I am destined to defeat these monsters. It is my destiny to be a hero. After everything I have gone through I am surely strong enough.”

Ulysses was about to turn and continue walking when he heard a startling noise. At first he thought it was a wolf, but he quickly realized that the noise was much too loud.

He turned and saw his first Nhasug. It was easily ten feet tall. Its single grey horn made up a quarter of its height. It howled again, and the unnatural noise made Ulysses shudder. He was already beginning to regret his decision.

Ulysses unsheathed the great sword of Ulysses, a weapon he no longer knew if he deserved, and raised it so the blade glittered menacingly.

The Nhasug glared at Ulysses with rage filled eyes. It paused for a few seconds then charged.

Ulysses was petrified with fear and escaped the Nhasug’s horn only because his son shoved him aside.

A shrill scream pierced the silence of the forest. Ulysses turned and to his horror saw Telemachus’s bloody remains strewn across the ground. He was filled by rage. But perhaps some of his former wisdom returned for he fled into the night, leaving behind the body of his son.

As soon as he was out of the lethal forest, Ulysses found a temple of Athena. He ran in and immediately began to unleash his anger.

“Why? Why? Why did my son have to die? Answer me Athena!” He roared.

His old friend Athena herself appeared in the temple to answer. Her calm face greatly contrasted from his murderous glare.

“All mortal beings fade given time. Even the most powerful heroes can fall. Many times in your existence you have chosen that one life with your family is better than infinite without. I cannot help you.”

With that, the goddess of wisdom disappeared.

Ulysses spent the rest of the night weeping and roaring, but by morning, he had made his mind. He was going to destroy the Nhasug no matter what Athena said.

He once again set off for the other side of the island intent on killing the Nhasug. He ignored all the signs, stopping not even to glance them. He knew what lay ahead and he was not afraid.

Ulysses saw a movement in the trees and roared a hoarse battle cry. Then he lifted his sword and charged. A dozen Nhasug lept out of the forest and into the clearing. They lowered their horns and prepared to charge, but were far to slow. Within seconds, their remains littered the very ground where Telemachus had died.

Ulysses quickly covered his son’s body with a shroud, and the sight of his face replenished his desire for revenge. He lifted his sword, which had already tasted the blood of a thousand warriors, and drove it into the heart of another. For a moment, the Nhasug stared into Ulysses’s angry eyes, then it quickly drove a knife into his stomach.

It expected Ulysses to die, but he had already done so. He was no longer the man he had once been, but he was a man on a mission.

Ulysses grasped the knife embedded in his gut and ripped it out with far more force than necessary. He then threw it at the head of a charging Nhasug while pushing away the one he had already stabbed, and for one moment, he was the Ulysses of old.

Then the remaining Nhasug retreated, leaving Ulysses to die from his wounds.

With the last of his strength, his cunning mind finally realized the truth. He already was a hero. He had nothing to prove.

Ulysses asked Athena for passage to Elysium and a blue lightning bolt lept out of the darkness. All that remained of the great hero Ulysses was a few specks of dust.

He did make it to Elysium and was overjoyed to find his son there as well.

Ithaca had lost its greatest hero, but Penelope never said she was disappointed by her husband. No man had ever achieved more.

Lost Chapter of the Odyssey Tyler Nonaka

One foggy morning while Ulysses was sailing towards the land of the dead he spotted an island to the side of his ship. He hoped that it would get lost in the fog and his crew would not see it because he wanted to go into, and out of, Tartarus as soon as he could. To his dismay one sailor spotted the island.

“Look over there, an island!” exclaimed one sailor, Fish.

“Maybe they have food, there is no food on this ship,” shouted another sailor, Chips.

His oarsmen, who were all starving, spun the ship toward the island.

“No!” yelled Ulysses, “We must continue on to Tartarus, remember what Circe said!”

As much as he tried, Ulysses could not persuade his men to continue on their route to the land of the dead. When they landed on the beach they looked around but saw no signs of civilization. There were trees swinging in the wind and the glistening white sand was running across their bare feet. There was a misty haze spreading across the beach and over his men. Just as Ulysses was about to head back to the ship one of the sailors yelled from the other side of a hill with large trees, growing fruits the size of one of his men.

“Smoke! I see smoke! Burning wood and great big fires!”

When Ulysses looked over the hill he too saw smoke, as well as large, very large, red flames.

“Wait,” said Ulysses “Something is wrong about this place.”

But unfortunately, all his sailors had already ran towards the flame. Ulysses ran over the hill and saw what he had hoped would not be there. Looking down from the hill he saw giant houses made of wood from trees too big for humans to cut down, he saw giant fires, with flames dancing in the wind, and he saw giant piles of blood red meat. His men were so driven by hunger they didn’t notice that this village was a village of giants.

“Run men! Run for your lives, for this is a village of giants!” cried Ulysses.

But his cries were too late, he could hear the boom of the giants feet coming over the hill. His soldiers, hearing his cry were trying to salvage as much meat as they could find. Suddenly a huge, slimy giant picked up one of the huts and ate the men inside. Ulysses who had already began to run away, noticed that none of his crew had followed him. He did not want to go back over the hill to see the horrid sights of the giants, but he knew he must save his crew.

Running over the hill Ulysses yelled “Men you must run! The giants will devour you like you are dead animals!”

Ulysses sprinted down the muddy, damp hill, yelling at his men to run. He ran at one of the giants and sliced its arm off as it was about to eat one of his men. The giant stuttered and fell next to a particularly large pile of meat. It was in a large, badly woven basket, surrounded by dark, damp leaves. Ulysses took a closer look at the meat and realised it was human meat.

“Men, these giants will kill you. They will slice you up to eat later. Throw all their meat away for it it human meat!” “Run, run men. If you run now you will have enough time to start sailing away.”

To his relief he saw his men starting towards the hill. The giants followed close behind, picking of sailors like fruit from a tree. Ulysses got to the boat and started to push it into the sea. Other sailors close behind reached the boat and helped Ulysses. Once they had the boat far enough out, they got in and started to row.

Ulysses, who tried to get of the island as quick as he could, left many men stranded on the beach with the barbaric, inhumane, giants. He watched in agony as the giants devoured his shipmates. He wished he could save them but he knew if he were to go back, his remaining crew would all crumble under the strength of the giants.

In actuality, the ‘Triangles of Death’ were a set of about fifty floating triangles that are about the size of a head. They were originally created by the Elder Cyclops to help the gods in the Titan War but were scrapped because they wouldn’t have been much more than an annoying pest to the titans. To humans though, they were quite deadly considering that they homed in on whatever target they were set to attack. As Poseidon released them into the arena, they split into two groups to pincer Ulysses. As they did this an idea started forming in Ulysses devious mind. The first group started probing Ulysses while the other group got behind him. About five of the triangles broke off to attack. Ulysses easily cut them down with a couple sword slashes. The crowd roared.

“This noise isn’t helping my concentration.” he muttered angrily. He heard a buzzing noise as the second group closed in on him from behind. At the last second, he danced out of their way. Again, one group moved to go behind and the other set off a small attack. When the flaking group came in again Ulysses dodged out of the way again.

“Dance, Ulysses, dance. Eventually they will get you.” cried Poseidon. As the flanking group moved behind again, Ulysses charged the first group, slashed a few of them, causing the group to start chasing him. He started running towards the flanking group, which, by now had turned and had started charging him. As he was about to collide with the flanking group, he dove under them so that they crashed into the group chasing him. This caused instant chaos as the two groups destroyed each other.

“Very good Ulysses,” called Poseidon, “making them kill each other. That might not work so well against your next foe for you will be facing Alika, one of my own children. He is more of the airy kind though.” said Poseidon with a chuckle. Alika was indeed airy. In fact, he was entirely made of air. He looked like a merman, but was completely transparent.

“Normally, if you were to fight air, you wouldn’t hit anything and the air wouldn’t be able to harm you, but Alika has mastered turning from solid to gas at will. You won’t be able to hit him until he decides to hit you.” explained Poseidon.

“Finally, an actual challenge. I thought maybe the ocean had used all it’s creatures up.”

Taunted Ulysses. Poseidon’s face tightened and his face grew rosier but he held his tongue, not wanting to rise to Ulysses’s bait. Ulysses turned his wit on Alika,

“Well then, one of Poseidon’s brood. I just guess Poseidon was feeling gassy when he created you.” If air could turn different colors, Alika would have been beetroot red. He charged Ulysses with his sword raised. Ulysses swung his sword in an arc of light to try to fend him off but Alika just walked straight through it and slashed at Ulysses. Ulysses, much like a cat, dodged out of the way but still cried out in pain for his thigh had been cut. For a moment before he got cut, he saw Alika in solid form. It lasted for less than 5 seconds, but that would be enough for his plan. Ulysses started backing away towards one of the walls.

“Are you scared Ulysses, I would be too if I were you, I am the great Alika, and you cannot defeat me!” Bragged Alika. Ulysses felt a sudden jolt and felt the cold stone on his back. He was trapped. The time to act was now. As Alika charged him again, he waited for the last second to raise his sword so that he actually blocked Alika’s stroke. Then, quick as lighting strikes, he grabbed Alika’s shirt and shoved him as hard as he can into the wall.

As Poseidon had said, Alika had mastered changing form, but as anything does, he still needs to have a small bit of focus to change. Focus that he didn’t have being dazed and half conscious. While Alika was stuck in solid form, Ulysses quickly stabbed him in the gut. Alika turned to face Ulysses with a surprised expression, mumbled something incomprehensible, and turned into sea foam, floating away like bubbles in a breeze.

“Hmmmmm.” Grunted Poseidon, “that was most unexpected. Never mind though, your last challenge shall be to face my herd of water horses. I usually use them to travel across the sea so they are well trained to work together. If you defeat them, then you will be free of my son Polyphemus’s curse.”

“Good, how hard can it be, they are just horses after all?” Asked Ulysses.

“We shall see, won’t we?” Replied Poseidon, then in a louder voice, “Release the herd!” About a hundred horses charged out of a tunnel that had opened up in the arena. The herd, as Poseidon called it, were a magnificent sight to see. They were in five lines of 20 horses, perfectly aligned. Water sprayed into the air as the raced towards Ulysses. As they ran, or swam, they galloped a couple of inches off the ground. They changed shape from horses to turbulent water that churned like a sea in a storm.

“I see, quite difficult.” Whispered Ulysses. He realized that he would not be able to defeat the horses himself. There were too many and they would trample him before he slayed a quarter of them. Nobody else in the arena seemed to be ready to help. The spectators were too excited to see him die, Amphitrite still seemed very bored, as if this happened everyday, and Poseidon wouldn’t kill his own herd. Or would he? He might if the horses were in a position to kill him. This new idea took hold in before the horses had moved across half of them arena. Ulysses started running. His only chance would be to get in position before the horses or Poseidon guessed what he was doing. Come on Ulysses, this for your home, Ithaca. You didn’t survive twenty years of torture to die here! He scolded himself. This sense of responsibility put an extra boost of power into his limbs.

Now he was leading the horses on a direct path to Poseidon’s box seats. He saw Poseidon’s eyes go wide with surprise then his jaw set in a hard line. Just as Ulysses was about to dive out of the way, Poseidon zapped the horses with his trident. Even though gods cannot die, they can be hurt to a point where they can’t come back, like how Kronos got cut up into thousands of pieces. Getting trampled by one hundred magical horses was a way that that might be able to happen. He turned to Ulysses with a tight face.

“It seems to me that you have used your cunning once again to defeat your opponents,” he said.

“It seems that I have, and if I remember correctly, you said that would free me of your wrath. Will you do so?” Ulysses asked.

“Are you calling me an oathbreaker? I said I would free you of my wrath for disgracing my son, do not bring my wrath upon you for other reasons,” Poseidon said with heat “ you are free to go.” With a wave of his hand, Ulysses was once more floating to the surface as sea foam. *** As Ulysses reformed on the beach where he left, he found Telemachus on his knees praying by a fire.

“My son, what are you doing?” asked Ulysses.

“Father!” shouted Telemachus, “you are back, where did you go?”

“I was freeing us of Poseidon’s wrath.” Replied Ulysses, “I had to complete three battles to earn The Earthshaker’s forgiveness. My first task was to defeat the Triangles of Death…”

7th GRADE You Say Tomato I Say Tomato Josie Flanagan

As the car pulls up to school, I step out with my backpack in one hand and my flute in the other. The misty, cold fog makes me shiver as I walk through the doors. The hallway is filled with chatter as it arises at every moment. Everyone around me is talking or laughing with someone next to them. I unpack my backpack and shove my books inside my locker. I get my history books out for my first class as everyone speeds past me laughing at friends. It feels as if everything around me is slow motion, always.

When I walk into History class with my so called peers, I say “hello” to Mr Sanchez. Everyone shuffles in and gets into their seats like a big flash mob.

“Lets see. Who is going to read are daily double today for the word Safari?” Mr Sanchez says looking around while picking up a popsicle stick, “Luna…”

At the sound of my name, I freeze in my seat. I get up slowly as everyone around me stares with their head moving at every step I take. I grab the foreign words book out of Mr Sanchez’s hands while he walks out of my way.

“Safari. A journey. A tour to see wildlife in their natural habitat. You can go on a safari usually on a…” I look at the next word confused on how to say it, “Savanna. A savanna is a large grassy area with few trees.” As I finish my sentence, I close the book and go back to my seat.

When I sit down, Gretchen, next to me, whispers quite loud, “Saa, vaughn, ah!”

I knew I said it wrong I think. Ugh.

“Saa, vaughn, ah!” A boy named Tyler yells while almost falling out of his chair laughing. I slump in my chair as I look down for the rest of class time.

“I will see you guys on Wednesday. Have a great Monday!” The voice of Mr Sanchez wakes me up from my daydreaming. My eyes flutter realizing where I am. I don’t remember what we were talking about in class, I missed it all.

I stand up, grab my stuff, and exit the classroom as Gretchen passes me and yells, “Saa, vaughn ah!”

Making everyone in the hallway laugh at me. They are never going to let it go are they? I run all the way to my locker trying to be out of Gretchen’s sight and anyone else’s. I try to hide from her for the rest of the day but at times someone who was in class with Gretchen would yell and laugh at me. When people did this it made me feel more alone than ever. When the dismissal bell finally rings I am so relieved.

When I get home, I grab a snack and go straight up to my room. I unpack my backpack slowly, reflecting on my embarrassing day. I get out my homework folder and sit down at my desk. The light from my window peaks through making a perfect amount of light to cover my room and to make it peaceful. I take out my math homework and get started. As I look at the rest of my homework I realize that it is going to be a long night.

Twenty minutes later, I finish my math homework and move on to my English homework. When I start writing in my English notebook, I start think about tomorrow. I hope that tomorrow will be a better day, I think. When I was about to start writing, my mom yells up to me, “Dinner, honey!”

The next morning when I arrive at school, it is time for first period already. Bringggg! Bring! The school bell rings making a commotion of kids running around getting to class. I walk down the hallway enjoying the silence and alone time. I finally get to my English classroom and open the door, while realizing how late I am.

Many faces turn to stare at me, including the teacher. “Nice of you to join us,” the teacher, Ms. Tray says.

Some of my classmates and others don’t even flinch keeping their eyes on the board. Gretchen says under her breath, “Hey potato, remember that time when you mispronounced Savanna?”

Everyone snickers, but the teacher says, “Gretchen that’s enough.”

For the rest of the period, I try to focus on my school work, not Gretchen, not her little remarks, not everyone else who is silently judging me at every moment. When the bell rings, I realize that class went by so fast.

Everyone shuffles out leaving me the last one in the classroom with Ms.Tray.

“Hey, Luna. What was that all about with what Gretchen said? Are you okay?” Ms. Tray says trying to be nice even though I know she doesn’t really care.

“It’s nothing. It’s whatever, doesn’t matter,” I say quickly and rush out of the classroom before she can say another word.

As I head to my locker, I feel the silent stares of disgust and judgement from around me. Gretchen probably has told the whole school, great. Who next? I don’t need more people staring at me.

When I am at my locker, I get out my Biocool2 mini drink for snack. As I look up, I see Gretchen about to come over to me. Oh no. What could this be about? Is she going to make fun of me again?

“Hey, Luna. Whats up?”

This is weird. Why is she even talking to me. “... nothing,” I say confused if this is a prank or something.

“So… what are you having for snack?”

“Um, I am having this mini drink called Biocool2,” I say awkwardly.

“Wait. What did you say?”

“I said, I am having this mini drink called Biocool2,”

Out of nowhere she starts snort laughing.

“Haha! Guys come over here!” Gretchen waves over to her million friends who are to me almost half of the entire school. I feel so confused. Gretchen’s friends start to corner me making me feel stressed.

“Guys. Guess what Potato said now?”

Of course, she is back to her wicked games. Potato. Where did that even come from?

“She said Beee, oh cool, two.”

Everyone laughs, some holding their stomachs because they are laughing so hard.

“I don’t get it. Why is that weird?”

“Oh you poor, little girl. She doesn’t even know. First Savanna now Biocool2. This girl needs a tutor for her little brain,” She says knocking on my brain like I am some object.

I start tearing up. I feel like I am shrinking, like I am nothing. Gretchen and her friends are laughing so loud and towering over me making me feel so very small.

“She is crying!” One girl from the crowd yells.

I run off to the girls bathroom. I stare at the wall feeling light, hot headed and dizzy. I hold my legs and just cry.

I stay there for the rest of the day. My tears become dry and crusty on my rosy cheeks. I shiver when I hear the echo of the dismissal bell from outside of the bathroom stalls. I wait there for another thirty minutes just to make sure that everyone has left the school. I don’t need to be more humiliated, I sadly think.

I slowly stand up while my legs shake from being curled up in a ball for so long. As I open the bathroom door, I gladly see no one in the hallway. I walk to my locker while my tears are falling onto the floor and my body slumps. When I get outside, I see my moms car and notice she is the only car left. Before I get to the car I quickly wipe away the tears.

“Hi sweetie. What took you so long?” my mom asks concerned as always.

“Um. A teacher wanted to go over something with me,” I lie.

“Okay. How was your day?”

“Good,” I lie again.

As we drive off, away from school, all I can hear is the tires of the car skidding along the road and the static radio. I lean my head against the window and close my eyes all the way home.

By the next day, I was tired of it all. I was tired of being teased for just mispronouncing a few words and getting laughed at by not only Gretchen but basically the whole school. So today I decided I would tell Gretchen to stop teasing me.

Later that day, during lunch time, I walk over to Gretchen.

“Can I talk to you please?” I ask looking straight at her.

“Fine,” she says looking me up down.

We walk outside of the cafeteria as her friends stare at us the whole time. Gretchen stares back at them making faces that clearly meant she was very annoyed with me.

“I don’t like when you pick on me because I sometimes mispronounce things wrong,” I say quickly getting everything out.

There is a long moment of awkward silence. Gretchen looks back at her friends and rolls her eyes.

“Ok?” She says not making slightest amount of eye contact with me.

“Well… can you please stop?” I say trying to make it as obvious as I can.

“Fine. I mean it was just a joke,” she says grumpily admitting she will stop. She walks away from me with a sass in her step. I watch her like a hawk as she sits down next to her plate of salad, side of carrots and ranch and a green juice. She starts to talk to her friends while they all gather around. She’s probably talking about me, like always, I think while sighing. After they all spread apart again at their lunch table, I walk away reflecting on what happened.

Four and a half hours later when school ends, I run very fast upstairs to my room. When I get to my room I shuffle quickly around to grab my old diary from two years ago. I haven’t touched my diary in so long, it even has dust covered on the front from being squished into the back of my shelf. I get out my special purple glitter pen and open to a clean page in my diary.

Rainy Roads Lucie Hollein “C’mon, hurry up, we’re all waiting for you!” Kate’s mom yelled while Kate was packing her last things before the three and a half hour car drive to her grandma in Maine.

“I’m coming!” She shouted back to her mom while rushing down the stairs.

“Wait, did I pack my extra pair of socks?” She thought to herself and ran back into her messy room where the socks were laying on her bed.

When Kate’s dad started the car it began to rain.

“Oh great,” he said sarcastically with an annoyed look on his face. Kate plugged in her earphones to listen to her own music since her family only listened to some weird radio, and Kate just liked the old music better.

She was different that way.

“Everything was better back then,” she mumbled to herself.

Kate loved rain, it made everything seem so comfortable. She watched the raindrops having a race on her window on who arrives at the bottom first. She looked at the trees and gas stations flying away from her window sight.

“How long is it going to be now till we arrive?” She heard her younger sister ask, for what felt like the 50th time.

Kate’s mom sighed, “still about 2 hours, Beth.” Beth was 4 years old and Kate’s only sibling. Kate loved Beth but sometimes it was annoying to always take care of her. For example she always had to play with her, or Kate always took the blame for everything, and even if Beth did anything wrong everyone just thought it was so “cute”. Kate could also never go anywhere when her parents were not at home, which happened very often.

And not to mention all the crying Kate had heard for the past 4 years of her life.

Kate could not wait to finally see her grandma again, it seemed like forever since she last saw her. Sometimes she just felt like her Grandma was the only one who could really understand her, the only one who wouldn’t secretly judge her. She drew faces on the steam of the rain on the windows. The car started to drive in curves on a road that was straight. The curves got sharper and larger as the time passed. It felt like a rollercoaster.

Kate didn’t know what was going on.

“Where am I ? What is this?” She thought to herself while ignoring her parent’s voices. Everything was so loud, stressful, and angled, but at the same it felt so still and calm, as if she wasn’t really there, as if this was a memory she was looking back at. She intuitively knew that something bad was going to happen. She had an unpleasant feeling in her stomach, as if there was a big black hole in her stomach getting bigger and bigger; just like the curves. When Kate looked out of the window she was shocked and confused at the same time; everything was spinning around so fast. It all happened in what felt like 2 seconds. It was all spinning and turning and bumping and moving, spinning, turning, bumping moving.

She wanted to do something but she didn’t feel like she had any energy. As if she was stuck- paralyzed. ‘Did I actually put my socks in the car or was I just imagining that I went back to get them?’ She thought to herself while everything was happening. Without thinking, Kate took her sister’s hand. Suddenly she felt a big bump, like the car just literally fell onto something. When she woke up in the hospital in the morning all she could remember was lights flashing, police sirens blaring, people talking and her sister crying.

At least she woke up.

The Woods Wyatt Alt

It was a crisp autumn day, and there was a small ray of sunlight peeking through the gray clouds. I caught an unusual scent, the smell of storms. I was sitting in math class staring out the window at the tree, but it wasn’t very interesting, it only had one leaf left. I looked up at my teacher who also seemed to notice the tree.

“I’ll see you on Monday,” my teacher said as she looked at the class. When I looked out the window, the last leaf had fallen off the tree. I sighed and walked out of the classroom. As I walked out I felt eyes trained on me, looking, wondering. They didn’t know who I was, but none of them really cared. I have tried to talk to them but they don’t listen. I walked out the door, free of the pressure of their eyes, and it started to rain.

When I walked home, I noticed a boy walking behind me. He wore an orange rain jacket. As he was walking up to me I noticed him wearing a sullen look. I crossed the street right by his side, but he turned in the other direction. “That was awkward,” I thought, relieved.

When I arrived at my house, I immediately walked out the back door and went into the woods behind my house. During the summer, I found a tree that was easy to climb and had a comfortable spot to sit in.

It made a perfect place to sit and think. As I was walking I saw the kid who had walked with me only a few minutes before. He stared right at me, but in the blink of an eye, he vanished. I figured it was only my mind playing tricks on me. I climbed up the special tree and heard a noise. I turned to find that the kid had hidden behind one of the trees. I continued to climb the tree, then turned around and waited. I knew he would eventually come out. He slinked out from behind the tree, I called to him, “Who are you? I’m Jack,” I said.

“I’m Elliott,” he replied, and just like that.

The next day, when I walked to school, I saw him. I waved at him as he ran toward me. We talked the whole way there. I realized as we walked upstairs, that we were late.

We rushed into class, and I thought, “I got what I wanted, a friend.” He helped me gain confidence. I joined to the soccer team, I talked to people at school more, and I even made a couple of new friends.

One day after soccer practice, a boy from my soccer team asked me if I wanted to come over to his house. I was going to hang out with Elliott, but I decided to take the invitation. I decided to go, it was one of the biggest mistakes I ever made.

When I got home, I dropped off my stuff and walked into my room. I opened the door, and I was greeted by an Elliott. He looked at me like someone looks at their partner when they forgot their anniversary (I would know, I’ve seen it first hand). He had his foot tapping against the floor.

He was clearly annoyed. “Where were you?” he said. “I went over to some kid named Ben’s house. He’s on my soccer team,” I replied. “ Jack, we were gonna meet in the woods. I didn’t know if something happened to you.

You could have gotten attacked by a bear for all I know!” He said angrily.

“There are bears here?” I said, dumbfounded.

“Yes. Just don’t do it again,” he replied.

Everything went downhill from there, I started to skip our meetings. There were some days when I would not talk to him. One day Elliott walked up to me in the woods and said, “Jack, almost every time we plan to meet, you are over at someone’s house. It makes it seem like our friendship doesn’t matter to you at all!”

“Elliott,” I said, “you need to stop butting into my business, and if you don’t stop, our friendship wouldn’t matter,” I said it harsher than I meant to, but it got the point across.

“Fine, if you don’t care then I guess I don’t either,” he said. As I turned around and walked away,an I noticed a slight sobbing. I didn’t cry, but I still felt the pain.

From that point on I didn’t want to talk to him. I was forced to sit with the one other kid I knew, and his friends too. The other kids talked around me, but I was never really there. I kept thinking about Elliott. I decided to just eat my lunch, so I could avoid the thoughts that were flowing into my head.

We didn’t talk at all. Until one day, I was reading in the woods. As I looked up from my book, I saw him walking up to me. He looked worried, but I didn’t care. I jumped out of the tree and stood about three feet away now.

He simply said, “I’m sorry.” It was so small, but it meant so much. I realized I had been holding it in for so long that it hurt.

“I’m sorry too,” I said as I walked up to him. When I was right in front of him, I hugged him. I knew from that point on that I would never take anything for granted again. Then the sun came through the clouds and shined.

Lakeside Annoyance Nicholas Martin Fred woke up in his tent and crawled out. His friend was sleeping in, as usual. The area smelled like dirt and body odor, and the flaps of his tent were annoyingly loud so early in the morning. He had one thought on his mind; the fact he had to be paired with Jeff in sailing lessons for the day. The little plastic horn blared from across the hill on the other half of the group’s campsite.

“Fred, where’s Todd?” Gerard, the 16 year old leader asked, seeing Fred across the grounds.

“Sleeping.”

“Get him up. Wake him proactively next time.”

“Be proactive!” Fred imitated, making a distorted face.

“Hey, I’ll be mad at him too for waking up late.”

Fred and Todd had been friends for years, and, after a sleepover and the camp with him a year before, along with other camps when they were younger, he knew Todd liked to go to sleep late and wake up late. Fred’s mood was not improved by Gerard’s annoying adult-like remarks, (camp was meant to eliminate those in his mind), and he had other problems than being more ‘proactive’. Fred walked a few feet back to his tent and opened the flaps. Todd creeped out of his sleeping bag with the speed of a sloth.

“Morning already?” asked Todd, poking his head from his tent. As usual, they went to bed around 10:00 pm and woke up at 6:00 am. And as usual, it took Fred at least ten extra minutes to fall asleep and they had watched Indiana Jones on Netflix until Todd’s iPhone battery ran out. Then they took turns playing some random offline games on Fred’s Android. Well, the idea of technology was ruined for the week now due the lack of outlets and chargers.

“Yup. Breakfast is almost ready, too, and they had Craig cooking instead of you!” Fred joked.

“Seriously!!!”

“Nah. But get up though or they might consider that option.”

Todd scrambled from the tent, still in his clothes from the day before, (as was Fred) and started filling his water bottle at a faucet.

“Ready for sailing today?” Todd asked.

“I would be if I was not destined to be Jeff’s partner.”

“Ya, it would be cool to be with each other. At least we can go to the rifle range whenever we want later, after our other programs. We can also sail together later if there is not a huge line again.”

“True, that’s always fun. But we haven’t advanced far enough to sail outside of lessons. I guess we can on Friday though.” Fred was one of the most accurate rifle shots at camp, and had only been there two years counting this one. The instructor, Bill, really liked him. Meanwhile, Todd’s skill was more in archery, but they usually settled with rifle. The instructors were nicer. Besides, Todd was alright at shooting. They ate some toast and eggs and ran towards the the assembly area to endure yet another assembly.

Lucky for them, sailing lessons were at the waterfront, and the waterfront was right in front of the assembly area.

“What do you have against Jeff?” Todd asked.

“He just doesn’t look at sea-smart, you know what I mean? Like, I’ve seen him just sit there and not help his partner. I also wish we were partners because we both know what we are doing and we are already friends. Even Im better than J-” he stopped mid sentence as Jeff trudged into the waterfront. Fred and Todd put their shoes on a bench near some picnic tables, not daring to look in Jeff’s direction. He was dumb, but he did look like he had some muscle. They threw off their pants to reveal bathing suits, and stumbled over the pebbles barefoot to the boats. Fred glanced at the two opposing shores. It was like a giant pond, which wasn’t surprising because it was a lake. A thin settled over the end of the lake, the opposite shore barely visible and the sky pure white. To the left was most of the campsites, also engulfed in fog, and to the right was the ‘trading post’ and a few other ‘skill’ areas. Behind Fred to the left was a hill-like dirt trail that branched off the the archery range, rifle range, and shotgun range. He looked back at the water and stepped onto the floating dock with Todd.

Sam, the instructor, rowed his boat into the floating dock lined with tiny sailboats, about two yards long and about two feet wide, with a mast of about two yards and a boom of a yard and a half. There was barely a hull, and it looked more like a canoe with a sail, but the top was sealed over and you had to sit on that, useless you were the pilot, in which case you would sit in a slightly flooded square indent.

“Alright guys, we learned all the knots and stuff yesterday, and the wind is good, so we are going to try to sail as long as possible today. Hope you brought sunscreen!”

Fred pulled some sunscreen from his pocket and rubbed it everywhere that wasn’t awkward. He had gotten a terrible sunburn after visiting a waterpark for hours with Todd before coming to camp, and now he was never going to neglect sunscreen again. At least his face wasn’t burnt, and he was probably going to have a cool tan after a few weeks.

“Ok… for the groups; Todd and Ryan, Jeff and Fred, Michael and Oliver…”

Fred tuned him out. Despite his most desperate prayers, he was still with Jeff. Sam hadn’t forgotten the deal they worked out last class. He forgot how the deal came to be, maybe the fact they did the capsizing drill together, but the way they executed it probably wouldn’t show much merit to the pair. They had flipped the boat all the way over instead of on its side, causing Sam, Fred, and Jeff to have to right the boat while treading water. And the sail was in the water making it even harder to lift, it was like trying to pull a canvas from the water. Well, he usually had fun so he could probably wing this and survive it.

He was with Jeff, a guy who acted like a general dummy.

Fred rigged the ropes on the boat grudgingly. He had gotten the boat with one of the more necessary ropes shorter than the others again, so Sam had to rig one part, and Fred the others. Jeff pretended he was helping by milling around the cockpit. It’s probably for the better anyway. Fred thought.

They were all around thirteen, maybe Jeff was older by a year, but he was not at all smarter. Fred had seen him sit around when he was needed, not paying attention while sailing-- that was a serious crime in his mind, a mind that did not generally pay great attention itself.

They launched from the dock, Fred had swapped with Jeff, whose job was to pay attention to the ropes and moderate the amount of sail they had up. It didn’t matter anyway, the wind was perfect, and Fred was steering with the tiller.

They glided across the lake, turning when the buoy appeared in front of the boat. Fred and Jeff didn’t say a word to each other, and despite Fred’s bitter feelings he enjoyed the light breeze in his face, looking at the lily pads near the shore, the towering trees… Suddenly he was brought back to reality by Jeff’s mumbling voice. “Can I steer?”

“No.” Fred bluntly stated.

“Good sailing out there, boys!” Sam yelled from his rowboat.

“See, he likes it when I steer,” Fred responded to Jeff’s frown.

“Why doesn’t Jeff show off his skills?” Sam shouted. Fred was confident Sam hadn’t heard his crude comment, but it still disturbed him. Or maybe the disturbance was the fact Jeff was about to steer the boat.

They switched spots, a stressful action on such a little boat. Jeff stepped on the same side as Fred, and he almost had to jump to the other side of the boat to prevent capsizing.

They continued in a straight line. Fred occasionally had to yell at Jeff for almost hitting other sailboats, followed by Todd laughing from another boat. Fred looked at Jeff’s hand on the tiller. It looked like it barely moved it since he started using the tiller. He didn’t say anything. Fred looked around and saw the swimming area dock coming closer. Suddenly everyone else noticed them heading towards the dock.

“Turn around!” Sam shouted. He saw Todd on a nearby boat laughing his head off. “Get away from the swimming area!” He shouted again. Now Fred could see why he liked himself being in control.

Fred looked at the water that was partially walled off by docks, and open on another side… the one they were heading straight at. Jeff steered slowly towards the dock of the diving area, but that still didn’t prevent a crash of some sort. Fred couldn’t see anyone in the water, but swimming wasn’t always an above the water sport. Even if they didn’t hit a swimmer, hitting a dock wouldn’t be pleasant either. He tried to think of a solution before it was too late. He saw the rowboat coming closer, the dock even closer than Sam. He felt his head turn to ice with frustration, instinctively moving himself closer to the cockpit to avoid taking maximum impact. Then two ideas formulated. He looked at Jeff, who seemed to be thinking as well. I could go to the front of the boat and push us backward. He thought. No, if I screw up and get my hand crushed… He wouldn’t have enough time to move to the front anyway.

“Steer the boat!” Fred had said an unpleasant word before ‘boat’, finally getting Jeff’s attention. He moved the tiller a few centimeters—the wrong way! Obviously he thought they were already turning, but to Fred it was clear they would hit the dock or worse. The world resumed to normal speed for a second. His mind had defrosted after thinking they could make it. The dock was just a few feet away now. A lifeguard near the swim area yelled at them to turn.

“Get out of the cockpit! Now!” Fred yelled. Jeff stood up halfway but then sat down hesitantly.

“Don’t wanna capsize the boat!”

Fred lunged forward shoved the tiller all the way to the left, the sail fluttered from the sudden wind change. Then they were back on open water, gliding towards the sailing dock. Fred moved the tiller to a neutral position, took out the spare oar and rowed backwards to slow down, then tried to tie the boat to the dock.

Sam realized Jeff hadn’t taken down the sail, and Fred did it for him. Sam came over to lecture them, red faced, eyes looking confused. He would mostly lecture Fred in the more predictable scenario, it probably looked like it was Fred’s fault, since he stood in the cockpit.

He shoved Jeff in front of himself, hoping he would receive the bulk of the punishment. However, he held a dim pride inside for not crashing the boat.

“Good job Jeff.”

8th GRADE Walter Cunningham Jr. Dewie Egan

What is more important money or happiness? I would say money. You may say why do you think that well I don’t have any money and I don’t feel my life has any importance whatsoever. I hate what money can do to people you lose sight of the real goal of life. Maybe that is just what poor people like me want to think.

I never know what to do around money it just scares me. So what do I do to solve this problem? I try to avoid times were money is necessary. I try to make myself less vulnerable. I feel like a hermit crab but when I stick my head outside of my shell I get squashed by humiliation.

When Ms. Caroline said that I could pay her back for lunch and she tried to give me three quarters I froze I didn’t know what to say or do. I sat there frozen like a popsicle in the freezer. I felt as though I was on the edge of a cliff hanging waiting for someone to pull me up to my survival. Her hand reaches down to pull me up the lava bubbles below my feet and Scout saves me. The first time someone at school has been nice to me. She told Ms. Caroline that I am one of the Cunninghams it felt as though she dropped me again. What is that supposed to mean my family is known for being the poor family. That is not what I want for my family.

People should be known for their actions and words not how much money they have in the bank. This is a representative example of how Maycomb sees people like my father and I. People like us the “uncommon folks” the ones who dream to be like the others. I remember spying on other families as they sit down to eat meals with more food then I have eaten in a month. I wish I was one of those families.

Mockingbird Monologue Emilio Huizar You all down there, you all don’t like me, for some reason or another. You don’t like me because of my family, or because of the trial, or for no … reason… at all. Well, I’m here to tell ya that there’s more to this story than you ever have known, or will know.

You know from the age of 14, when my momma died, I had to fill the role of a mother to all my siblings– and that of a wife to Bob. <pause> I never really had anything of my own, or any say in the household– let alone the town. THEY held all the power. It was always “Mayella do this” and “Mayella do that”. I was the lowest of the low in terms of social class, and the whole town knew it. Well, almost the lowest, and that’s where the problem lies. Since I had never really had any power, or even any say in what happened ‘round here, I sought it out like a bee to honey. Black people had always been the lowest social class in Maycomb, meaning that I was above ‘em. When Tom first came ‘round the house, he was so nice, so willing, so powerless. Tom would always come by, do what I say, then leave. Nobody else would do that for me. They would always just ignore me, and walk on. I began to realize that Tom was the only one that I had power over, as no one else would listen to me. I thought that I could sexually assault Tom Robinson, and even if he resisted, <emphasis → I could just say that the mean black man raped me. Who would believe him over me?

There’s something I need to get off my chest.

I didn’t sexually assault Tom for the reason you may think. Nope, it was ‘cause I had nothing to lose, and everything to gain. You see, throughout my ‘tire life, I been at the bottom of everything. When my momma died when I was 14, I became a mother to the kids, and a “wife” for Bob. That’s when my control stopped. See, I had to put whatever tiny bit of a life I had aside for the family. I had to take care ma siblings. I couldn’t go to school, or do anything other than work. The only thing I had control over in all this were my Geraniums. That’s the reason I liked ‘em. I hated gardenin’ , but those gave silly lil’ flowers gave me power. Power of choice. If I everything had worked out, I could’ve been in control of a relationship with Tom Robinson, one in which I would control all the power. I mean, c’mon (nervous laugh), I had nothing to lose, but everything to gain. My life was terrible- just one smidgen of control over it would make it better. Heck, even Tom had it better than me. He had a loving wife, and two happy kids. That’s why I assaulted him. If he had just been smart and said yes, we both could’ve won. Me, I would have improved my life, and he would still be alive.

When It’s All Over Marijne Kunst

What happens to a body after it’s buried? I never thought about death until it was so close to me I could almost feel it. It seemed distant, something that you read in stories. At ten years old I was still naive enough to think it wasn’t a reality. Not something that would happen to someone I knew. Death seemed so far away, funny how the things that seem furthest away are often closest.

My grandpa was sick, he’d been sick for a while. I didn’t know how serious it was until I overheard my mom saying he had cancer. The word didn’t mean much to me at the time it just sounded bad, something you didn’t want. I had no idea what it meant or how long he’d have it. I just saw him gradually deteriorating.

Becoming thinner, older, weaker, and quieter. My grandpa had never been the chatty type but when he became sick he just shut down.His eyes which were once filled with life and danced a little when he smiled were no dull and lifeless. I started to resent visiting my grandparents because it felt like their was so little was left of them.

My grandpa’s illness didn’t throw my life off at the time. It seemed like an inevitable fact. Something that was happening and nothing could stop it. My grandpa and I weren’t super close. I have memories of him reading me books about two kids going to the bakery and playing horsie but that’s it. I secretly favored my other grandparents. I never expressed this but I think he knew. Of course he was important to me, he was just always there. I didn’t give much thought to being with him. I wish I had.

I feel empty, I expected to feel something, sadness, pain, grief. But nothing. I’d been thinking about this moment ever since my mom and sister left me a note that said he was dead. It sounds cruel to not be overcome with sadness, but in that moment I didn’t feel anything. My life didn’t feel different it felt like a normal day. I’d never been to a funeral and didn’t know how to behave or what to do. Were you supposed to cry? Would people think you didn’t love him if you didn’t? It wasn’t that I didn’t love him, I just didn’t feel sad that he was gone.

Voices. We’re at the cemetery. I slowly open my hand and let the sand drizzle out. All the way down.

I never knew how long it could take for sand to fall. I look around me and see my grandma. She’s surrounded by people but still, looks alone. I wonder if that’s how it feels when you lose someone. No matter how many people are around you, you still feel all alone. I take a step back from the big open hole. It seems small, and lonely. Are you really going to leave a person in there?

There’s a big structure on the grave. I suppose it’s to get the body down there. I guess I always assumed they just dropped it in. But that seems a bit silly now. There’s a lot of people here. I wished there weren’t. Did they all really know him well enough to be here when he’s still with us for the last time. Did I? I wonder if he could choose who came to his funeral, who would he pick. After all shouldn’t you get to choose who was worthy of being there when you were about to be buried. Would he want me there?

I wish I was wearing black. It seems appropriate. Everyone around me looks very fancy, suits and dresses, that seems weird. They’re not going to a party. I’ve never seen my grandpa wear anything resembling a suit. He was an artist who painted, surely you don’t wear a tie while doing that. I don’t think he would’ve wanted people to get all fancy. He was a simple man, a man of routine. He didn’t seek adventure or was attracted to danger. He was, quite frankly, an ordinary man. There’s beauty in that too.

I follow in line, walking like in a parade behind the casket. Six men wearing morning coats and top hats are carrying the body on the shoulders. Looks heavy, I wonder if they’ve ever dropped one. I’m in the front with my siblings, parents, and grandma. She doesn’t look sad. It’s more like she doesn’t know what she’s supposed to do now that he’s gone. The gravel crisps under my foot making way for me. The cemetery is oddly silent though filled with people. That seems to happen a lot lately. It seems wrong to yell, or run or even talk when you’re walking around here. Like you’re violating the last rest place of the dead.

I’m sitting in the back of our blue mercedes. I’ve sat in this very spot every day for years without a thought. Today it feels different, the chair is cold and clammy and it feels big like it’ll swallow me. The atmosphere in the car is foreign. When you have three siblings you’ll be hard pressed to find a silent moment.

Not today, no one said anything. I usually hate the chaos of voices overlapping and disagreeing but now anything seems better than this agonizing silence. Even the car sputtered less seeming in grief. There wasn’t much to say.

My sister twiddles her hair the discomfort and sadness of this situation form a every weird expression on her face. My dad looks over at my mom, a flash of concern as he rolls up the window and directs his attention to the dancing leaf on the sidewalk.

I look over at my little brother, he’s only seven. I didn’t realize at the time how confusing all of this was for him. Death is hard to grasp for me. For him impossible. His feet are bouncing in the air, uncontrollable, he doesn’t ask about turning on the radio which generally is the first order of business when entering a car. We pass a billboard for my younger brother’s favorite cookie campaign, which is bound to set him off on painfully grotesque version of the commercial. Nothing. Even my older brother who is usually quite obdurate seems a little out of place. I sort of expect him to complain about something, anything. He doesn’t.

My mothers face is unreadable, blank. It’s her father. She reaches for the radio and as if suddenly deciding otherwise she reclines her hand into her lap. A hint of sadness, barely visible, suppressed. I hadn’t thought about how she would be feeling. At ten years thinking about someone other than myself was a strength I was yet to develop. It’s odd thinking that one day that’ll be you. One day you’ll be driving to bury your father. Seems unimaginable, so far away. I bet that’s how it felt for my mom. Today will change everything.

I look up at the tall man standing in front of me. This is the first time I’ve seen him. I think. He’s my grandpa’s neighbor. Tom? He’s dressed plainly with a checkered shirt and brown pants. He has a kind face and I wonder if my grandpa thought so too? He opens his mouth and words begin pouring. Very distant and foreign. I’m distracted by the swinging light that darts back and forth. I catch only bits of what he’s saying, “My daughters could always come over and paint…. great memories….we were always welcome in their house.”

Interesting. I have vivid memories of relentlessly begging my grandpa to let us paint, only to hear; “You’ll just make a mess.” Or “No, not today.”

I think I got to paint with my grandpa all of three times in the ten years I knew him. So you tell me about getting to paint whenever. I keep listening to this man who certainly thought he knew my grandpa, and I don’t recognize the words he saying. The things he’s describing. The friendly, enthusiastic, open neighbor he paints him as seems so far from the withdrawn and reluctant grandpa. Is it really possible there were so many different sides to him? A side I had never seen? My sister’s sitting beside me, her knuckles pasty white, she looks far away. I look at my mom, she smiles at me. I can tell she’s thinking the same thing. This isn’t the father she knew. Part of me wishes he wouldn’t say these things. Like I missed out on something his daughters got, from my grandpa.

Arno. My uncle. Much to his annoyance I used to call him elf, those ears did it. I’m pretty sure I was convinced he was one for a while. I can still see the resemblance. He’s not exactly going to win uncle of the year award. And pretty sure brother of the year is out as well. My mom and him don’t have the best relationship. His stance displays an overwhelming amount of confidence, and the twinkle in his eye certainly suggests he’s enjoying this. He doesn’t look sad. Then again neither do I. He had a baby this year, Indre. His first child. It’s a shame my grandpa barely got to see her. He also missed out on the boy three years later. He would’ve loved that. I wonder how Arno and his dad got along when they were little. They never seemed cuddly to me. You can tell he’s comfortable in the front of the church. The center of attention. That fits him.

He starts talking about his baby, figures, my aunt starts crying. No big surprises there either. Arno is all about Arno, he only looks out for himself, talks about himself and cares about himself. My aunt’s alright but very overprotective and scared of everything. Then he says something interesting.

“My dad was diagnosed one and a half years ago, they told him he had a little over a year left. He always did follow the rules.”

Wow. Something about that statement seems a little out of place. It just seems wrong. Typically Arno, always managing to say something you look back on and think just why did you have to say that. The rest of his speech goes straight through me, and can’t even recall if he mentioned loving or missing his dad. Wouldn’t surprise me if he didn’t.

Maya Angelou once said, “if someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time.”

That sounds smart and in Arno’s case a hope that he’ll change is something you’ll take to your grave.

Music drifts into the side room where I’m standing. “It’s time,” someone says. I wish I didn’t know what that meant. I can’t imagine sitting through a service. Not because I don’t want to, although that may be true.

More that the whole thing just seems ridiculous. I can’t explain it but I just have this feeling that I can’t shake. I just seems wrong and weird to do this. Wrong that he’s gone, wrong that we’re all here because of that fact. It doesn’t matter what I think, today’s not about me. I don’t think I realized that back then but I do now.

Faint tunes of a the piano grow louder as the enormous spruce doors open. A gateway to the next part. When they asked me if I wanted to walk alongside the casket, I didn’t know what to think. Would I be pushing it? Isn’t it really heavy? But it has wheels. Obviously. I feel stupid. It’s like I’m in a dream where I’m the bridesmaid of a stranger’s wedding and they don’t know that I don’t know them. I don’t want to be up here. It’s not right The church is packed it looks like a thousand people. I later realized I might rounding slightly high.

I want to laugh. It’s not that I think this funny. At all. I just, just think this all seems so unreal. I mean I’m pushing, sort of, my grandpa’s dead body into a church packed with hundreds of strangers. Seems more like a twisted dream than reality.

I don’t laugh. I can’t even imagined what would’ve happened if I had.

“Ding, Dong,” I ring the doorbell My grandma appears in the doorway. She looks good considering what we’re going to do today.

“Where is he? The words escape my mouth.

“In the living room.” My grandma replies like she just told me what one plus one is. Seriously! Not what I was expecting. He’s been in the house while she was asleep. If she even slept. I wouldn’t. Talk about creepy. Is it normal to keep the dead in your house, my little ten year old mind wondered, drifting off.

“He’s in the casket, you know.” My sister whispers gently.

I guess that makes it better.

The car skids to a halt. The sun that was so bright it pierced my skull is now a dull shadow in the distance. We’re here. At the cemetery. Apparently there’s such a thing as visiting cemeteries before choosing one. It’s funny because you never think about the logistics surrounding a funeral. You just think someone dies and you have a funeral. You never realize you have to choose flowers, sandwiches, and visit graves. My eyes fall on my surroundings. I breathe in the fresh country air and gently brush my hands across the humongous pine tree. The sun is out and as if smiling at me it shines especially bright.

The huge gate opens and reveals the graveyard. The rest place of thousands of bodies. There’s something special about being at a cemetery. Unspoken rules about what you can and can’t do. There’s a certain calm and peace about this place.

The shrill voice of the funeral worker interrupts my bubble of serenity.

“We offer graves starting at 10 years.”

What now? Offer graves for 10 years? You’ve got to be kidding. And then if they don’t pay or they all die they’re just going to take the body out and do what? This all seems really strange. Certainly I’m not the only one who thinks this is a little crazy? But the faces of my mom and grandma don’t reveal any disbelief whatsoever.

“We also offer family graves, of course.”

Of course you do. Why wouldn’t you? Totally normal when we all die we can just be placed on top. At the time it seemed incomprehensible, but now I realize there’s something comforting about being reunited with the one you love when it’s all over. The peace of the graves disappears.

One step from the door, the weak voice of my grandpa abruptly stops me. I inch closer to the door, tempted to make a break for it. I don’t know what to say. I’m not good with these things. I want the cover of outside in the middle of the room it’s like I’m a mice circled by its prey.

“Dag Marijne.”

I smile and for the last time turn around and look at him.

I didn’t mean much to me at the time, he could’ve said anything. But now, I can’t imagine him saying anything else. That one word was perfect. Some people say death comes unexpected to everyone. But I think he knew it was over. I think he sensed that this was the last time, and you know what? I think I did too. I think I saw a hint of a smile when I left that day in the dying eyes of my grandfather.

I always thought that his death didn’t impact me. It did, I just couldn’t see it. I know now that life is precious. Death doesn’t wait for anything or anyone. I’ve noticed my grandparents getting older, it’s the little things. I take the time to thoroughly soak in and enjoy the moments that I have with them. Because they could very well be my last, and I don’t want the last thing I ever say to them mean nothing.

Almost everyone I know is scared of dying. That’s because it’s the only thing in life we can be certain of.

Sometimes knowing something will happen is way scarier than the unexpected. I don’t think my grandpa was afraid. At the end he was so close to death I think he knew it was almost over. I hope that he left us feeling like this was the end. Like his life was complete. Everyone deserves that. Even though I never got the chance to tell him I loved him before he died. I hope he knew.

Red Eyes Kate Wilkens 2012:

“Are we there yet?”

“No Kate, we just pulled out of the driveway.”

“How about now?”

“Honey, it’s been thirty seconds since the last time you asked.”

“But I wanna see Kathy!”

“Well, you will see her when we get there.”

“And when will that be again?”

This was how most conversations with my parents went. I don’t particularly enjoy the word annoying, so let’s just go with bubbly. I was a bubbly, optimistic eight year-old with a gap in my teeth the size of the entire continent of North America. As we finally pulled up to camp, I caught a glimpse of Katherine’s car driving up right behind us.

“She’s here! She’s here!” I don’t think I could have run any faster if I was in the Olympics. We embraced and proceeded to perform our BFF handshake, which I’m pretty sure went on for at least two minutes. We couldn’t have been less interested in our parents if we tried. We were too busy setting up our many stuffed animals on our bunk beds. Before we knew it, they were gone. Everything couldn’t have been going better.

Then the sun set. It started to hit me.

“Huh, Kathy. I don’t really feel right.”

“Yeah, me neither,” she replied as we exchanged matching frowns. Instead of switching stuffed animals that night so that our bears and elephants could spend time with their “aunties”, we went straight to bed. The next morning, it was worse. It seemed as if we both woke up already crying.

“Ailsa, Ailsa,” our voices wavered, “we miss our houses.”

“Okay, okay, girls. Let’s just get some food in you.” I rummaged around my duffel bag to find something to hide my red, puffy eyes. I decided on a tattered green baseball cap that used to be my mom’s. Great. Just great. I plopped it down over the rat’s nest that currently sat atop my head. Mom did my ponytails every morning. What would I do when she wasn’t there? At breakfast, I barely even picked up my fork. And it was waffles. I love waffles.

“Kate, please eat.”

“No thanks, not hungry,” I murmured. At rest period, another girl asked if I wanted to play cards.

“Sorry, I don’t really like playing cards,” I monotoned, already zipping up my sleeping bag to hide in.

“Not today.” I repeated, as my head hit the pillow. As the week went on, I started to smile less and less.

By about Wednesday, Katherine and I had hit a sort of a breaking point.

I can’t stay here anymore. No one ever told me it would be like this. We tentatively approached Ailsa, our eyes already brimming with tears.

“Girls, you need to stop.” My breathing quickened.

“What?” I managed to croak out.

“You guys are just being a nuisance to the other girls who are trying to have fun. From now on, you can only cry in the shower. It will make everything better for everyone.” I felt like I was going to throw up.

Why didn’t she understand? Who could have chosen this unempathetic lady to live with children for a week?

I didn’t know, but I did know that whoever it was had made a momentous mistake. I hurried straight to the shower. I wasn’t about to break her rule within thirty seconds of her instating it. I was trying so hard to be quiet that I began to choke on my own sobs. I have no clue how long I was in that shower but it felt like an eternity.

What am I going to do? How can I stay in a place where I’m not allowed to feel anything? I silently worried.

Maybe I should just feel nothing at all. As the hot water ran over me in that shower, I felt myself slowly shutting down. And that was how I stayed for the rest of the week. Shrunk into myself.

“I want to thank you girls for a great week and I hope you will all come back next year!” Everyone was so sad to leave. I couldn’t have been more relieved. And then I saw it. The dirt-covered Toyota Highlander crunching over the loose gravel. I froze in my tracks as the two people I had been so gleeful to leave just a week before ran towards me. I smiled. It felt strange.

“Take me home please,” I whispered as I hugged them. The last time I had been in a car, my excitement could barely be contained. This was much, much different.

“Where should we stop for lunch? In-N-Out?” My mom knew In-N-Out was my favorite.

“I’m not really that hungry.” I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I was back home. Why wasn’t I happy? I was with the very people I was missing so much now, so why should I still be sad? These were the very questions I whispered, discouraged, to my mom later that night.

“Honey, you had a really hard time. You’ve been feeling sad for a week now and that’s not all going to go away in one day.”

“Well, when will it?”

“Soon. You just have to get back in your routine.” I waited. And waited. The world was moving in slow motion around me. Every morning, I pressed my face against the ice cold glass of the front window, watching my mom’s car pull out of the driveway on her way to work. The last time I could remember doing this, I was four years old. I was a new Kate. And I hated it. I didn’t know this at the time, but other people were noticing my new persona as well. We went to a family friend’s house for the Fourth of July. They live on Mount Tam and as we were driving up there, I didn’t want to look outside because the trees reminded me of the ones at camp.

“Susan, is Kate sick? Maybe you should take her temperature. Her energy is usually at a 10. This isn’t even close.” The mom whom we were visiting said something after only ten minutes of being with me. It would be at least a month of being home before I finally started to act like myself again. But even thinking about camp would bring that Kate back. So I didn’t. I pushed those memories out of my mind and focused on something else. Anything else.

2013:

It was February and the memories that I had banished the previous summer were making their way back into my head again. They crept up on me unexpectedly, transporting me back to the claustrophobic cabins. It was torturous. I looked up at the cracked, beige ceiling as my sleeping bag crinkled when I slightly shifted. A hot tear slid down my face and I swatted it away.

You are only allowed to cry in the shower, remember? I squeezed my eyes together tightly and brought myself back to reality. It turned out that reality wasn’t much better.

“Kate, I just got an email from the Holdens. They signed Katherine up for camp this summer. I’m assuming you don’t want to go again, right?” That got to me. Who was my dad to know that I didn’t want to go back? I could do it again. Couldn’t I?

“I think I want to try again Dad.” I’ve never seen him look more shocked.

“Are you sure? Maybe it would be better to try a new camp.”

“No, this one. I want to do it.” I was, and still am, a stubborn person. But in this case, I wasn’t so much stubborn as I was determined. Determined to complete the task I had begun. However, I didn’t know how hard it would be to willfully insert myself back into the situation I had hated so much.

From that decision on, I started to dread summer. Some nights, I would cry myself to sleep just picturing myself in the tiny crammed bunk beds in a camp cabin. The night before I left for camp, we were ordering take out pizza.

“Kate, can you walk down to Giorgio’s and pick up the pizza?”

“No.”

“Excuse me? Why in the world not? You were the one who wanted pizza in the first place.”

“I’m not going. I’m not going!” My voice got louder and more distressed with each word that slipped out of my lips. Thankfully, my mom understood that we weren’t talking about pizza anymore. Despite everything, the next day I sat rigidly in the Toyota Highlander once more. The barren valley en route to camp was not a welcome sight. The only thing providing me any comfort was the counselor that I saw as I slugged into my cabin.

“Hi I’m Lauren! But you can call me Juice!” Against my will, the corners of my mouth upturned.

“Hi Juice! I’m Kate’s dad. I just want to let you know about a few things.” He proceeded to describe my experience last year, and I just waited for her face to fall in disappointment. I was a downer. Who would want a downer in their cabin? But Juice surprised me and instead of telling me that no sadness was allowed, she gave me a huge bear hug and said we would get through it together. However, despite Juice’s love, as soon as I said my last goodbye, I felt myself shutting down again.

Why can’t I laugh with everyone else? At home, I’m usually the one laughing the loudest. Why am I sitting on the shore while everyone else is playing in the lake? I didn’t understand why I was the way I was.

I just want to be like everyone else. I want the old Kate back now. I miss her. However, the tiny, tiny pang of sadness I had leaving Juice at the end of camp gave me hope. At home, I searched and searched for the old Kate. She was difficult to find but I finally succeeded 3 weeks later. It felt good to be back and once again, I forced all the pain I had felt far, far away. The only thing that was different was that I knew for sure that it would be coming back.

2014:

It was February again. I had learned to despise Februarys.

“Yes? No?” This year my dad wasn’t sure.

“Yes. I have to do it.” His one click on the computer sparked a wave of dread that washed over me like a tsunami.

It’s not summer yet. It’s not summer yet.

“What are you doing this summer, Kate?” My classmates at school didn’t understand. They didn’t know that their innocent question would cause my stomach to twist and turn in knots. They had no clue, because on Outdoor Ed., I was fine. I didn’t understand it. Why was camp any different? I wasn’t with my parents in both places, so why should anything change? The spring flew by and before I knew it, I was standing in a dusty cabin at camp yet another time. I felt as if sandbags were taken from my shoulders when I was told that I had Juice as a counselor again.

“Juice, I want to go home.”

“What happened last year?”

“I said I wanted to go home?

“And did you?”

“No.” “And did you feel proud that you made it the whole time?”

“Yes.” “So there you go. Both you and I know you can do this.” I also knew that I would lose myself. But the important part was that now, I knew where to look to find myself again.

2015:

By this point, you can probably guess what month it was.

“Mom! What are you guys whispering about?”

“Well, we just got an email from the Holdens.”

Oh no.

“What did it say?”

“Katherine wants to go to camp for two weeks this summer.”

Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no.

“You know you don’t have to go with her.”

They will all think I’m such a baby if I don’t go. I have to go.

“I want to go.” My mom’s forehead creased in concern.

“Are you sure? You don’t need to make the decision now.”

“No, I’m sure.” By May, I was not happy with my decision.

What have I done? There is no way I can make it that long? I’m going to disappoint everyone. During the last weeks before camp, I really kept to myself. More than in previous years. This year, I was worried because I had made this huge commitment. I had to live up to it. The night before I left, my mom seemed confused.

“Are you okay, honey? You’ve been really quiet.” She knew that the nights before camp were typically filled with lots and lots of emotions.

“Yeah I’m fi- no, I’m not okay.” I relayed all of my concerns and I was told over and over again that no one would be disappointed in me. But I think I was more worried about being disappointed in myself. The next day, watching the Highlander drive away was like being dropped off on an iceberg in the middle of the ocean.

I felt so alone. I didn’t know how long two weeks would feel, but I was about to find out. I think that I was so nervous for the second week that the first week slipped through my fingers. But the second week was hard. I felt done. All I wanted was to go home. I kept picturing the exact moment that camp would be officially over. I would be in the backseat of the car, driving far, far away. However, those visions pushed me farther and farther away from enjoying myself at all. There was this one girl in my cabin who only made matters worse.

“Kate, why are you so sad all the time? Aren’t you eleven? Eleven year olds don’t miss their parents.” I just looked away.

I hate that I’m this way. Why is no one else sad? I shrunk further into my shell, and there I stayed for a while. But this girl didn’t stop. Finally, I’d had enough. I slowly reemerged from my shell.

“You know that everyone’s different, right? I’m allowed to be the way I am.” That was something that Kate would say. Feisty Kate, who always speaks her mind. When the two weeks were over, I felt strangely confident.

I did it. There were more obstacles than ever, but I still did it. I was myself again faster than ever before.

If I could do this, what couldn’t I do?

2016: The next February came quickly.

I only felt happy for a little bit of last year. The rest of the session I was still sad as ever. I was dreading summer as always. As I was laying in bed the night before I left, after a full evening of intense stress and worry, I had a thought. I did it last year. And this year, I’m older and more prepared. There is no reason why I can’t do this.

My deep breaths coaxed me into a sound sleep. The next morning, I was ready for anything. I knew what I was getting into. It would be hard, but nothing I couldn’t work my way through. The Highlander rumbling away was routine by now.

Breathe, in, out, in, out. Then arrived a new emotion. I wasn’t just feeling sadness, but fear as well.

What do other people think of me? Every other time I’ve heard someone ask themselves this question, it hasn’t been helpful. Not once. For me, it was the opposite. This question forced me to go out and enjoy the little time I had away from home with new, awesome people.

“Kate, let’s go swimming this afternoon!”

“Yay! Ask Emma if she wants to come too!” By the end of the two weeks, I had done it. Really done it this time. I made the most of everything. On the last night, I was so sad to leave all my new friends.

Why did I want to go home anyways? At home mom and dad will just make me do everything I don’t want to do. Here, there are no parents! But I really did know why. The people that are the most important to you are the ones that you argue with the most. Even though these arguments mean the most, I knew now how to savor my time away from them. It just took me a little longer. I was readier than I’d ever been before.

“ Mom!”

“Hi!! How was it?”

“I did it!” She knew what I meant. She knew how this year was different from all the others. At that point, I knew that would be my last year at that camp. I had achieved my goals and I was ready to move on to a new challenge. And that was exactly what I did.

2017:

It was Labor Day Weekend and my family was spending it with the Egan family in Stinson Beach.

“Kate, what are you doing this summer?” Stouffer Egan asked. “Addie was thinking about going on a service trip. Maybe you guys could go together?” Addie and I looked at each other and our eyes lit up.

Immediately we started researching.

“Costa Rica!” We yelled out together. This was out of the country. This was so unfamiliar. This was insane. Yet, I couldn’t have been more excited.

“Mom, I just realized something. I can’t remember the last time that I wasn’t dreading summer.”

Instead of dreading, I was counting down the days. I knew I could do it, so why waste time worrying? And I was right. It wasn’t worth worrying about in the least. It was the first summer ever that I didn’t cry when I left. At the airport I was waiting and waiting for the tears to come, but they never did. Instead of it being the bane of my summer, my new experience was the best two weeks of my life.

Later that summer, my mom, dad and I were driving back to the same camp I had gone to for so long to pick up my brother. So many memories rushed back that it made my stomach hurt. I remembered crying it the shower, lying stiffly in my sleeping back and watching the Highlander become smaller and smaller in the distance. But I know now that the pain I felt each year was worth it. When overcome, that pain gave me an immense feeling of accomplishment. That accomplishment gave me the courage I have now.