Scribbles 2

Scribbles An Anthology of Creative Writing

St. James Lutheran School, Creative Writing Club

Second Edition, 2015

Anna Heyse Henry Brennan

Chloe Westrate Jack Larson

Kezia Boohene Will Hartig

Welcome to our second edition of Scribbles, an Anthology of Creative Writing.

As a middle school writing teacher, I have heard my share of “I don’t have anything to write about!” or “I hate writing!” from my students.

That is not to say that all kids hate to write. In fact, many love to write, but often feel inhibited by the fear of a bad grade, or they lack the confidence to take risks with their writing, or they are simply bored with the topics assigned by teachers.

Over the years, I have noticed more and more of my students writing for the sheer fun of it. From short stories, to poetry, to blogs, these students have much to say.

Wanting to encourage this practice, I began hosting a writing club last year.

These writers come together on a bimonthly basis to share what they have been working on, receive feedback from peers, participate in some guided exercises, and have a laugh.

Inside you will read excerpts from novels in progress, poetry, and some of the writing exercises done in our meetings.

We hope you enjoy our second edition of Scribbles!

Keep writing!

Mrs. May

The Thirteenth Sign an excerpt

by Anna Heyse

At first they tried to stop me. Now they pay no attention to me slamming myself against the gates. As always, the gate holds up just fine, and I'm bruised and exhausted. By 'they' I mean the staff. The gardeners, footmen, and every kind of servant one could think of. With

Anna Heyse

one final effort at the gate, I hit my shoulder. Hard. It wasn't as bad as usual, but the pain still spiked through my arm

Anna Heyse Once upon a time in a far away land known as Chicago, a little girl was born. Her name was Anna. As Anna matured, she discovered her love for stories‌ and eventually the reader became the writer.

with force. I let my body slump to the ground.

Today, Anna writes many long stories and has more ideas than she can develop. Anna will continue to write stories and hopes to one day bring them to life on the big screen.

added when the new era began. Unlike the other signs,

Grade 8

defined by heir signs. They define one's temperament,

My eyes wander to the magnificent Zodiac Tree in front of me. I let my eyes trace every carve in the elegant etchings. The twelve main zodiac signs are arranged in a circle with the thirteenth in the middle. The thirteenth sign, Ophiucus, wasn't in the calendar in the days of old, but was

Ophiucus has no specific time of year. The only Ophiucus are the royals.

It is almost my time, as princess, to take my step into adulthood as an Ophiucus. People in the New Era are

strengths, weaknesses, and even desires. Â

My mother, a former Gemini, had everyone convinced I was a Cancer in need of everyone's acceptance. I'm not. I am an Aries. That doesn't sit well with my mother.

Aries are laborers and warriors, not princesses. Aries are fighters. Aries are fire. My mother has used the Cancer sign's water to put out my fire. She now tries to turn me into water.

My family and I, the Royals, live in Eden. Eden: a giant, beautiful fortress that lay atop the tallest mountain overlooking the kingdom. Everyone in Eden is happy. It is my prison. I have never been outside. In my worst days I try to hurt myself enough to have to go to the hospital outside. I need to leave.

There is no courage left in me to face my and ask to leave. No generosity left to forgive. Everyone in the New Era wears a bracelet with a charm of their sign. My mother covered mine with a blue bangle: the color of the ocean. It is my handcuff.

As I begin to peel myself off the ground, the dinner horn sounds. "Great," I sigh and put my sweater on to cover my bruises. Luckily, my crisp white dress is still clean enough, and my metallic sandals still glint in the light. My golden locks are swept into an undo and my porcelain skin gleams. I am perfect. …Or at least made to look perfect.

My mother controls everything about my appearance. I am neither too thin nor too fat, too tall nor too short, too tan nor too pale.

"I need my fire to be relit,” I think to myself. “I need to leave." With that final thought, I march towards the dining hall.

Â

Showing vs Telling A good writer chooses words carefully so that the reader can see the images, actions, and places. A good writer shows rather than tells.

To practice, group members were each given an emotion and asked to literally draw a picture of a face with that expression. Then they labeled parts of their picture. The results were words or phrases that a writer might use to show rather than tell.

Telling: She was acting mischievous.

Showing: Her eyes narrowed then darkened as she slipped into the shadow.

Telling: She was so embarrassed!

Showing: She blushed as she covered her face with her hand.

Limericks

by Chloe Westrate

Yellow Cow

Chloe Westrate

There once was a bright yellow cow Who many a person did wow

Chloe Westrate is twelve years old and originally from Grand Rapids, MI. Though she now lives in Chicago, Chloe has lived in four different cities and hates moving.

Her interest in writing stems from her passion for well-written books.

Her writing styles differ depending upon her mood, but she frequently writes poetry and stories that include long, fancy names and poofy dresses.

Her hobbies include playing with her Maltese, Lucy, and playing the glockenspiel.

Grade 6

It’s fur felt like silk And it gave blue milk Great steak made the bright yellow cow

Lou Fat Fred had a daughter named Lou Each bite a hundred times she did chew After each dinner Poor Lou grew thinner And soon there was no Lou to chew

Clementine’s Cat Crazy Clementine had a cat Clementine’s cat was very fat It grew every day Soon she moved away Her house was too small for her cat

Rick’s Licks

by Chloe Westrate

I once met a weird boy named Rick Anything he saw he would lick He once licked a snail And a rusty nail That nail was the end of poor Rick

Jellyfish

by Chloe Westrate

Waves lap at my feet Seagulls and pelicans fly In the water kids play I step slightly further into the water Everything’s fine I keep walking Until…

Ahhhh!

I STEP ON A JELLYFISH Panic starts to creep in Strangely I feel no pain I look down unable to stand the suspense Phew!

It’s just seaweed Pesky Slimy Brown Plain Old SEAWEED

The Life of Mercy Harmony an excerpt

by Kezia Boohene

Cold... Oh so cold.

Kezia Boohene Kezia Boohene is an eighth grade student at St. James Lutheran School. She grew up in the Bronx, NY, and spent much of her childhood in Columbus, OH. Later she moved to Chicago.

She enjoys writing descriptive poems and short stories. Kezia currently lives on the north side of Chicago and has two younger siblings.

Grade 8

It’s 33 degrees and I'm outside with no jacket on. No shoes.

Just smelly, itchy clothes I found in the alley. I walk through the Bronx streets, rubbing my arms as I pass a group of gamblers; they eye me like it is my fault they ended up here. I see a garbage can and find a cold biscuit on its lid. I sink my teeth into the biscuit and chew. My tongue searches for every detail.

Cold. Stale. Chewy. Hard. Bits of crunchy bacon inside. Not the breakfast most imagine eating, but it's paradise for a homeless orphan. I walk toward Dunkin Donuts and sit by its entrance.

A rusty tin can rolls around on the snow. I pick it up and use it to collect money. I sit and wait. Minutes later, a tall woman walks out with a chocolate donut in one hand, and her coffee and purse in the other. She stops to tie her sneakers and sees me staring at her. I carefully watch her as she breaks off a chunk of her donut, dips it into her coffee, and hands it to me.

Is she giving it to me? The offer is too much. Donut…covered with chocolate…coffee. "Wow," I whispered.

Her green eyes almost force me to take the donut. I manage to lift a shaking hand and grab the wet chunk. Drips of warm liquid slide down my fingers. She pushes my hands toward my mouth, forcing me to eat it. I reluctantly take a bite. It is delicious: warm and sweet. I try to savor every bite bit by bit and the flavor brings me to my senses.

When I look up to thank her, she is gone, as if she was never here in the first place, like it is all just a dream.

Heavy snow begins to fall from the sky. I watch as it begins to collect on my shoulders. But for the first time, instead of shivering… I feel warmth.

The warmth of the chocolate covered donut.

The warmth of the lady with the green eyes.

Beyond an excerpt

By Henry Brennan

Henry Brennan Henry Brennan was born in San Francisco but moved to Chicago at age 3. Since elementary school, he has always enjoyed writing science fiction tales about substitute teachers from other planets and intergalactic warfare. Henry is currently in seventh grade at St. James Lutheran School and continues to write when he can.

Grade 7

It never rains in Epsilon. By that, I mean, actual rain. Every Friday, water drops come down and hit the ground perfectly, but I always notice something is off about it. You can set your watch by Epsilon. At 7:00 AM, the sun rises. 12:00 PM: the sun is directly up above the city, shining its beautiful light on the Epsilonian people. 6:30 PM: the sun bids farewell and the moon appears a half-hour later. Our sector’s lights always turn off at 6:59 PM. When we were little, Zelda, Lucas, and I would pretend to control the city, because of its “schedule”. It got old pretty fast.

The schedule isn’t the only odd thing about Epsilon. It is the people. They don’t mind the schedule or the Friday rain, or the Sunday Full Moon. They have no questions whatsoever. They just carry on with their routines. I feel as if I’m the only one bothered by that!

One time, I asked my neighbor Jamie about it. “It’s for the sake of the people of Epsilon,” he answered in a near monotone voice. This was literally the eleventh time I got that answer. I also get “Just get used to it” or “Why wouldn’t we have a schedule?” It makes me sick.

Even my parents are on board with the routine! My father always leaves for work at the same time as everyone else in Epsilon. My mother is a stickler about being on time. “Don’t be late for school! Wait, wait, wait! Don’t go yet! You can go right... now!” she shrieks across our house. This is normal for Epsilon, but not for me. My parents raised me thinking that, “Everything is for Epsilon. Epsilon will remain superior if you obey.” That phrase pops up everywhere: billboards, radio stations, the thirty-second propaganda commercials, every hour on the hour.

That phrase is tattooed on my brain. It will never go away.

-------------------------I turn fifteen today, which means two things. One, my annual doctor’s visit. Two, my career exam. The exam is an assessment of the way one thinks and how one applies knowledge in serious situations. The exam will be analyzed by the City Employment Office and will determine what job fits my mental skills. Besides these two things, which I fear, I am sort of excited for my birthday. My parents will make me a special

“

breakfast and set up decorations in my room while I’m at school. And my Dad will get three hours cut from his daily shift. He is a computer engineer and always come home with calloused and blister-ridden hands.

The year fifteen is big in Epsilon. It’s the year that you become more grown-up.

“Happy Birthday sweetie!” my mother exclaims.

“Thanks Mom,” I say, a little down.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“I’m nervous about my career exam.”

“Tori, you have nothing to be nervous about. You can change your career when you’re sixteen if you want to, but the exam picks the job that fits your abilities,” my mother said soothingly.

“Ok,” I began, “but what if it’s not anything exciting? Like Lucas, who just spends his days in a tech office?”

“Just remember one thing,” my mother answered. Here comes the typical answer, I think to myself…

“That we will love you, no matter what happens.”

“Thanks Mom,” I say, confused. My mother quickly turns her head to one of the twelve clocks in our house, noticing the time.

“Shoot! You’re going to be late for your exam! Go, go, go! Run!” my mother screams.

I speed out the door, backpack in hand, throwing it onto my shoulders. As I keep sprinting, I think about what my mom said. It was usually the “Epsilon obey” thing. I mean, she does say she loves me, but never in a situation like this. I am almost to school when I trip and slam to the ground. I scream in pain. A figure stands over me. Its face blocked by the 8:00 sun. !

Tired Similes Members of the group identified tired, overused similes then created fresh, thoughtprovoking similes.

The child’s laughter was like a sound only dogs should hear. --Jack The child’s laughter was like a blast of high-pitched squealing. --Henry I felt as empty as a dead man, tucked into bed, waiting. --Will I felt empty, like a vacant shell my soul had left long ago. --Anna Fog crept through the city like an anxious murderer looking for someone to kill. --Kezia

The Final Gathering an excerpt

By Jack Larson Chapter 1 The smell of pancakes woke Joseph up every Sunday, but he was still in no hurry to get up until he heard a shout coming from outside his room.

“Wake up, Sleeping Ugly!” taunted Joseph’s older brother Roger. “It’s pancake Sunday.”

Jack Larson

Moaning, Joseph fought his way out of bed and trotted his way down stairs. He had a strange feeling something unexpected would happen today but couldn’t put his finger on

Jack Larson was born in Chicago. He has always enjoyed writing poetry and adventurous stories. When he gets and idea for a story, his mind is set. He can find a way to get into the shoes of the characters to keep the stories going…but his thoughts tend to move faster than his pen.

Grade 7

what it was. When Joseph got to the breakfast table, he noticed his younger twin sisters, Stella and Anna, fighting over the syrup, and Roger, as usual, sneaking the syrup away from the bickering twins. When Joseph sat down his father asked him, “You’re looking a little sad Joseph, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” replied Joseph.

“Does it have to do with school starting tomorrow?”

Joseph’s father asked. As soon as the words ‘school starting tomorrow’ left his dad’s mouth, Joseph’s world was turned upside down. The noise of Roger and his sisters’ bickering and hogging all the syrup didn’t bother him. All he could think of was school starting tomorrow.

“What do you mean school starts tomorrow,” asked Joseph.

“He means school starts tomorrow, you got that Mutton-head?” pestered Roger.

“Dad, I thought you said I had week left of vacation,” moaned Joseph.

“I said that last week,” replied his dad.

“Summer’s over already,” sighed Roger.

“Afraid so kiddo,” said his dad sympathetically.

“Don’t worry, you’ll have lots of fun this year, and you’ll get to meet new friends,” his mom added cheerfully.

Joseph wasn’t really worried about his tests or the homework or even the bullies. He was worried about how it would be going to a new school without his best friends Sarah, Crystal, and Harold Glassman. They had been best friends since preschool and they always had each other’s backs. Heading into high school, they were all going to different schools. Harold had chosen to go to St. Mark’s College Prep, Sarah had chosen to go to Einstein Academy, and Joseph had chosen to go to Derek Rose Day High School.

One thing that bound these friends together was their playing of Dungeons & Dragons. Every Sunday during the summer, they got together and played D & D until sunset. Joseph just hoped that their friendship would stay intact.

“Look on the bright side, Jo Jo, you still get to play D & D one more time,” said his mom.

“Yeah, Jo Jo, at least you get to enjoy your nerd fest one more time this summer,” snarked Roger as he scarfed down his pancakes.

The thought of playing Dungeons & Dragons one more time brought a sense of hope that this day would turn out all right. As soon as he finished his breakfast and cleared his dishes, he started setting up for the last D & D gathering of the year.

Chapter 2 After three hours of setting up the game, Joseph was finally ready to play.

“Nothing can shake me out of this good mood,” Joseph said confidently.

But then Roger walked in. “I see you’re ready for ‘ye old gathering of the nerds!’” exclaimed Roger as he took a sip of his soda. ”Shut up, man!” Joseph snapped. “Get out of here!”

“Or what?” Roger challenged him as he put down his soda.

“Just get out of here; my friends will be here any minute,” Joseph pleaded.

“Ok, let ye old nerd fest commence,” Roger announced as he reached to pick up his

soda, but he accidently spilled it all over the board.

“What did you do?” said Joseph angrily.

“Awe man, my soda,” uttered Roger.

“It’s ok, I can just dry it out!” exclaimed Joseph.

Joseph proceeded to pick up the sopping wet board and hurried to the kitchen to dry it, but Joseph tripped and the board fell between the twins.

“I want this,” yelled Stella.

“No, I want it,” shrieked Anna.

For as long as Joseph could remember, Stella and Ana always fought over everything. They fought over the remote, the last cookie, everything. The doctor said they were even fighting about whom would be the first born.

“I saw it first!” yelled Stella.

Joseph quickly asserted, “Stop, you’re gonna…”, but it was too late. Stella and Anna had torn the board in half. ”….Rip it!” finishing his sentence.

Just then Joseph’s mother walked in and asked, “What is going on in here?”

“She did it!” both twins declared at once, each pointing at the other twin.

“Both of you,” demanded Joseph’s mother, “Go to your room this instant!”

“But it was her fault,” whined both Stella and Anna, again pointing at one another.

“Ha, ha,” snarked Roger.

His mother quickly scolded Roger by saying, “You too, MISTER!” “What?” snapped Roger, “ I didn’t do anything!”

“Yes you did. This is all your fault!” said Joseph.

“Shut up, nerd for brains,” taunted Roger who was almost about to punch Joseph.

“Roger, go to your room now!” demanded his mother.

“Fine,” Roger said mumbling swears under his breath as he trudged upstairs.

“Now Joseph,” asked his mother, “what happened?”

Joseph replied, I was setting up for D and D when Roger walked in and spilled his soda on the board.”

“Ok, what else?” asked his mother.

Joseph continued to explain the story, “Then I ran to the kitchen to dry the board when I tripped and it fell between Stella and Anna. They were both fighting for it, and it ripped in two.”

“I see,” replied his mother.

“Now the board is ruined, and Sarah and Harold will be here any second,” complained Joseph.

“Calm down Jo Jo. You’ll still have fun with your friends even without Dungeons and Dragons,” reassured his mother.

“But Dungeons & Dragons is the only thing we have in common,” said Joseph.

“That’s not true,” said his mother. “What about video games?”

“They give Sarah headaches,” replied Joseph.

“Well, how about playing outside?” his mother asked.

“It’s allergy season and Harold has a sinus infection,” said Joseph.

“Well, ok then,” replied his mother.

“What are we going to do?” probed Joseph.

“Just have fun with your friends Jo Jo, and everything will be ok,” replied his mother.

“No it won’t,” whined Joseph. “Everything is ruined.” Joseph pouted.

Chapter 3 Joseph went into the back room in the basement, as he typically did when he got upset. This was the quietest place in the house where he could go to calm down and clear his head. Unfortunately, today it was not doing him much good since his perfectly planned day was now ruined. Just then, however, Joseph got a text from Harold. The text message read, “Dude, me and Sarah are almost there.” Joseph was about to reply and was typing out, “Can’t play D & D today,” but then something caught the corner of his eye. He got up from where he was sitting to a take a better look. Joseph took the mysterious item off the shelf and saw that it was a box that read, Dungeons & Dragons: The Age of the Dark Maze.

Joseph thought to himself, “What’s this doing here?” He did not have much time to ponder the question. Joseph had a to find a place to set up, and quickly! He knew the dining room table was drenched in sticky soda. He remembered that an old ‘kiddie’ table was stored in the basement. Joseph searched the basement and when he found the table, he remembered that the last time he used it was when he was six, but it would have to do. He quickly set up the game and the moment he finished, he heard his mom at the door yell down to Joseph, “Joseph, your friends are here.”

“Right in the nick of time,” Joseph said to himself relieved.

Joseph rushed upstairs to open the door for his friends. When he opened the door, Harold was the first to come in. Harold had always believed in many different folk legends and conspiracy theories such as Bigfoot, the moon landing being fake, and alien life forms. He was also a big nerd for X-Men. Once when he was five, he pretended to be Wolverine for three months.

“Hey Joseph,” said Harold, “I just got a new shirt, what do you think?”

Joseph looked down at Harold’s shirt and saw it was black with a grey ‘X’ for X-Men. “Don’t you have like 6 other shirts just like that?” asked Joseph.

Harold responded excitedly, “Yeah, now I have one for each day of the week.”

Just as he finished his sentence, Sarah walked in and said, “Harold, half of your wardrobe has an ‘X’ on it.” Sarah was always the smart and athletic member of the group.

She could both find the circumference of a baseball and then hit it out of the park.

“Ok, enough about Harold’s shirt,” said Joseph, “let’s play some Dungeons & Dragons!”

“Yeah, let’s do this!” replied Harold enthusiastically.

“All right, then let’s go downstairs,” said Joseph.

“How come we can’t just use your dining room table like we always do?” asked Sarah.

“It’s a long story,” sighed Joseph.

Joseph led his friends downstairs to the kiddie table. When they got to the table, he saw the expression on his friend’s faces that said, “Really, this is the best you can do?”

“Okay,” said Joseph eagerly, “let’s get started.”

Harold questioned, “Is this the board we use?”

“Unfortunately, the other board ripped,” Joseph again sighed as he told his friends the news.

“Then where did you get the board?” asked Sarah.

“I found it here in the basement, it probably belonged to my dad,” explained Joseph.

“Enough chit-chat,” Harold exclaimed. “Let’s get started; I call the dwarf.”

“I’m the elfin huntress,” added Sarah.

“And I am the knight,” proclaimed Joseph.

“Let’s get this quest started,” they all said in unison.

Just as they began the D&D adventure, there was a loud crash. “What was that,” asked a startled Harold. “Did a nuke go off somewhere?”

“It wasn’t a nuke, Harold,” replied Sarah. “If it was, we’d all be dead. It was probably just thunder.”

“Yeah, Sarah’s right, it was probably just a brief, passing storm,” said Joseph. “Let’s continue the game.”

Just as Joseph said that, he noticed a sheet of paper peeking out from under the edge of the game board. He pulled it out and read it out loud.

“Quest Suggestion: The Dark Maze has plagued the Kingdom of Verdonshire. Three noble heroes will come and defeat the maze with three legendary weapons and save the Kingdom.”

After reading it, Harold said, “That sounds like a fun quest, let’s do that one.”

Sarah asked skeptically, “Okay, so neither of you two are curious about where the paper came from?”

“No,” exclaimed both Joseph and Harold.

“Come on Sarah, let’s just do this one,” said Harold.

“Yeah Sarah, don’t be so paranoid, that’s Harold’s job.” Added Joseph.

“Ok, let’s do it,” said Sarah suspiciously.

Just then, there was another loud crash and the board began to glow.

“Joseph, why is he board glowing?” asked Sarah with an astonished look on her face.

“I don’t know,” Joseph said in a scared tone.

“This is really freaking me out,” declared Harold who was no longer smiling.

Then the crashes grew louder and louder and the board got brighter and brighter until it gave off a blinding light. The next thing they knew, the board started to float in mid-air.

Joseph, Harold, and Sarah watched it with amazement and fright. Suddenly, the board consumed the three friends and they disappeared into it with another loud crash.

Nerdhood An excerpt

By William P. Hartig

“Why did you apply to Bryant Academy?” seemed to suddenly become a very popular question after I was accepted to the school.

It’s always been like this, especially with projects like the Science Fair. Kids are generally uninterested in the main

Will Hartig

topic. Due to a lack of attention, they are unsure whether or not you’ve mentioned the answers to their questions, so they

William Hartig lives in the city of Chicago. He spends most of his time watching Doctor Who or geeking-out on rockets.

He may or may not be a nerd.

Grade 6

take the safest course. They ask stupid questions like, “Why did you choose this topic?” or “What did you find most interesting?” Of course, they aren’t really interested in the answer. They just want to look good in front of the teachers, or start a conversation with you about something completely unrelated to the original subject. I swear, today I was asked about why I applied to Bryant Academy one million times, which doesn’t even make sense because there aren’t even that many seconds in a day.

“So, why did you apply to Bryant Academy?” John asked as we were walking to class.

I sighed. “Because it’s right next to a KFC,” I replied sarcastically. “What do you think?”

“Lay off me!” John replied, offended.

On the way to math class, we spotted Barry defending his opinion of the moon landing to the Jackers. I overheard Barry say, “The Apollo 11 landing was faked in order to bankrupt the Soviet Union during the Cold War.” He was trying his best to convince the Jackers while they laughed.

The Jackers were an exclusive society made up of the worst of the worst and dumbest of the dumb. The only way to be accepted into the club was to repeat a grade.

The terrible thing about them was that they always stuck around. To get away from them you would have to get away yourself. You couldn’t wait for them to graduate because most of them wouldn’t. In the rare case they did graduate 8th grade, that person’s closest friend would be assigned the duty of picking on the person they had despised the most even harder than the one before them. Barry and I were the center of this vicious cycle All the Jackers chose to pick on us, and it stunk.

As I entered the room, the Jackers seemed to sense my presence.

“Hey, Carson!” one of them called. He stomped over to me. “You’d better not try on this test, or you’ll make us all look bad.”

“My getting a good grade won’t make you look bad. The fact that you don’t know the first thing about anything is what will make you look bad, Nelson,” I retorted.

“Oh…so, I ain’t knowin’ nuthin’ ‘bout nuthin,” He said with clenched fists.

“Uh, yes, and I think your English teacher would agree with me.”

“All right, class,” said Mr. Henry. Immediately everyone sprinted to their desks.

“Today, as hopefully all of you know, is the final exam. If I catch any of you cheating, your test will be used in my fireplace next winter. You will also receive an F, and therefore, you will repeat this grade because this counts for 50% of your grade.” He began to pass out tests.

I saw Nelson giving me the death stare. I shrugged. I wasn’t going to fail this test because he said so. Mr. Henry handed me a test, and I got started. After about 30 minutes, I was already done. I walked to the front of the classroom and handed Mr. Henry my test.

“Find something quiet to occupy you for the rest of class,” said Mr. Henry. I nodded and sat down at my desk. I looked up at the clock. It was 10:37. I had 43 minutes to kill.

Because of the test, we had an extra-long math class. After this class was over, we had 10 minutes of science before lunch. The final science test was yesterday, so I wondered what we would do for the 10 minutes. I felt like I was forgetting something, but what? I racked my brain for any tests or quizzes that I might have forgotten. I couldn’t think of anything. This was the last test of the year, I realized. But there was still another week of school left. I spent the rest of the period wondering what would happen during the last week of school. I barely noticed the bell ring.

I collected my bags and walked to science class. “Hey, Carson. Hey Carson!” Barry called as I was walking to class.

“Oh, hey, Barry, “ I replied.

Barry was a good friend of mine. We met in debate club. Barry was strong willed and stubborn, which could be annoying at times, but in a debate hr was very useful. He was a great speaker and was not afraid to speak his beliefs. He had many conspiracy theories, but he always said, “Let’s agree to disagree.”

“So what is it?” I asked annoyed.

“I got in!” he replied excitedly.

“You say that like you expect me to know what, exactly, you got into,” I said even more annoyed now.

“I got into Bryant Academy!” he crooned.

“Oh! Cool! But how did you just learn about this? The public school system sent the

letters months ago,” I asked suspiciously.

“Well, apparently, if you change your mind about what school you want to go to, you can gamble and try to get into a different selective enrollment school. So some kid gambled, and a spot opened up for me!”

“Awesome!” I held up my hand for a high five and he didn’t leave me hanging. “ So we’ll be going to the same school next year?”

“Yep!” he replied excitedly.

I glanced up at the clock. “Oh, shoot, we have less than a minute to make it to class!”

“Oh, Crud!” Barry shouted.

We sprinted at full speed to our class. We just barely made it. As we were sitting down, Mr. Griffith was saying, “Since the curriculum is done for the year, the rest of the day is free time. Go read a book or something.”

Barry, who was sitting next to me, leaned over and asked, “So, can I have the research you have on the sinking of the Lusitania for the debate tomorrow?”

“Oh, shoot! I’m sorry, I forgot about the debate!” I said ashamed.

“What?” he asked incredulously.

“I’m so, so, so, so, so sorry!” I said feeling horrible.

“Well, I need that research by the end of the day today so that I can make a speech for tomorrow!” He was on the verge of screaming at me.

“I’ll make it up to you. I’ll use the free time to research the Lusitania. I’ll have it done by the time school is over.”

“You’d better,” he said threateningly.

I asked Mr. Griffith if I could go to the library. I ran down and got on a computer. I googled “The sinking of the Lusitania.”

“Boy, it’s going to be a long day,” I said to myself.

Urban Haiku The goal of this exercise was to choose words precisely in order to convey Chicago during a particular season…without actually using the word ‘Chicago’ or specifically naming the season.

Cold, soft, white snowflakes Dorothy’s hair is white A white lion’s mane

Sun shines on the Bean Splashing in Lake Michigan Spending time outside

--Chloe Westrate

--Jack Larson

St. Patrick’s Parade Requires a green river Rowdy revelry --Mrs. May