Lit Mag Fall 2016

The Voice Fall 2016

WAY Z ATA H I G H S C H O O L

Preface Thank you for reading our Fall edition of The Voice. Many of our words are still in transit, moving from inspiration to creation with a stop inside this magazine along their way.

You will notice a couple of selections penned with pseudonyms. This edition demonstrates the first time the WHS Creative Writing Club has tried pen names for some of our student authors. It is not our norm to hide behind false identities or create personas for the sake of coolness. But for this edition? It was kind of fun.

The Creative Writing Club wishes to thank Wayzata High School for their time, resources, space, and support in our quest for understanding the power of the written story.

All submissions to next term’s literary magazine should be sent to CWC.WHS@gmail.com. The deadline is Friday, January 20, 2017.

i

CHAPTER 1

From Across the Bar a short story by Lord Fang

Missouri. Whoever came up with that name knew exactly what they were doing. The idea that six million people would even entertain the notion of spending their lives in that miserable wasteland baffles me. It's seemingly endless corn fields cover the land like snow covers Minnesota except less pretty. The state is so flat it looks like God himself took a sander to it, leaving not a single bump.

Thanks to my father, who wanted to see some of his old friends, I was dragged from my comfortable bedroom in Minnesota and forced into a family road trip to “Misery” as I took to calling it. This was the last way I wanted to spend my much needed spring break. I had a mountain of homework and a paper I hadn't even started yet and a cramped car surrounded by my siblings was the last place I wanted to be. It was about the worst way I could think of to spend my break.

After we arrived, I unpacked my overstuffed backpack and was hoping to relax in the pool, but like most of my plans that weekend, my hopes were dashed.

My dad informed us that we were going out to eat. Immediately. No rest for the wicked, as they say.

The heat bombarded me as I trudged behind my family on our way to my father’s favorite childhood restaurant. From the outside it resembled a biker bar more than the “family friendly restaurant” he had described to my mother.

The smell hit me like a war hammer. It was like someone deep fried used gym socks then was constantly shoving them in your face. Despite its disgusting atmosphere people seemed to be rushing in by the dozen. I couldn't find a single 2

empty place in the room where I wouldn't feel so claustrophobic.

Hi, my name’s Jack . . . Will you marry me?

After what felt like hours, but what was probably only 20 minutes, we were finally seated in a booth. I got in last, securing my seat on the end across from my younger sister, my favorite of all my siblings. I lazily scanned the restaurant looking for anything even slightly interesting when my eyes found their way to the love of my life. His long blond hair covered one eye. The other was looking around the room and held a sliver of nervousness. As his eyes fell on me, I looked down with a huge blush trying not to be seen by him. If there was a God, and given this angelic boy maybe there was, He clearly planned for me to see this guy. I knew how shallow it was for me to like him for how he looked but you know what they say, "a good personality can't attract you from across the room.“ It would take him nearly two months to admit that he had the same reaction to me.

It took a full minute to pry my eyes off of him and another two to come back to reality. Reality sucks, trust me. As soon as I came out of la la land, I started to write a list in my head of all the problems. The most blatant was that I was sitting next to my homophobic father who didn't know I was gay. The second was that I had never met this boy before and that I couldn't just walk up and say "Hi, my name’s Jack . . . Will you marry me?" like I would want to. Then the biggest problem hit me like the Titanic. If I don't get this guy’s number tonight, I probably never will. I was in Missouri, a place that I had neither the ability nor intent to revisit. So I had to come up with a plan to get this gorgeous boy’s number before I leave. The first idea that came to mind was a note. I had 3

a pen on me and I could write on the paper napkin that the waitress had dumped on the almost clean table moments before. But my father would see me write it.

On top of that I would have no way to get it to him.

I could try tapping Morse code on my glass. But I didn't know Morse code.

Time was ticking. My family had almost all finished their meals and the second they did my father would ask for the check. So in a last ditch effort that I knew wouldn't work, I excused myself to go to the bathroom and walked by his table. I looked into deep blue eyes; and nearly smacked into our waitress passing by with another order. I tried to convey everything I was feeling into one look. I tried to wordlessly beg him to join me in to bathroom with one single glance. Before I could see the response on his face I strided to the bathroom not wanting to draw the attention of his family.

I trudged in with my head down knowing that he probably wouldn't follow me in. I started washing my hands so if someone walked in I wouldn't look overly suspicious. Just as I finished the boy opened the door.

"Um hey," he said his soft voice riddled with fear and timidness. He sounds as cute as he looks. I thought my face caught between shock and delight.

"Hey, my name's Jack, do you want to get married?" I asked having as close to no control over my words as possible. Why did I say that? Oh God, he is going to think I'm a freak. I tried not to let my fear show. Just say something to make him forget about what I just said. So I let the words "Do you come here often?" tumble out of my mouth with all the grace of a freight train. "I'm sorry you're just so cute and I can't stop thinking about you and, and can I have your number?" I asked with just slightly more control. For a second the boy was quiet.

Then he answered, "I have a new phone and I don't know the number yet, can I have yours?" I nodded and typed my number into his iPhone 7.

"So um, are you um," I asked before I was cut off by the shaking of his head.

"Yes I'm gay, and I'm sorry but I'm from out of town and I wouldn't want another long distance relationship.� He stopped looking at the ground for a

4

second with a terrible look. I was about to reach out a hand to comfort him but stopped myself. “My last boyfriend cheated on me," he said looked back at me.

"Oh.” I took a second to acknowledge the fact that I was a total idiot before responding. “Where are your from?" Trying desperately to change the topic.

"I live in Minnesota," he said looking only a sliver happier.

"Oh my God, so do I! Maple Grove. How ‘bout you?" I said with joy that words could not describe.

"I live in Eden prairie," he said smiling.

"Look, I know this is really sudden and you probably aren't ready for a new relationship yet," I was cut off as he shaking of his head.

"I'm sorry but no. I don't want to date someone I don't know. Can we be friends first?" He asked with a smile.

"Ok," I said reaching for his hand.

He smiled and shook it saying "my name is Felix."

"Jack," I said with a smile. It wasn't a face splitting smile or even a big one but it was the happiest smile I had in a long time.

“Well, I've got to get going my dad would kill me if he knew what I was doing.”

“Same.” As he walked out he kissed me on the cheek then without a word walked out. I blushed with joy and my smile grew as I closed my eyes.

5

CHAPTER 2

Things

a poem by CRJ There once were some things.

These things were things that thought that they were nothing more than just things, but they were.

These things were things that could do things that other things could not, amazing things, but they thought that the idea that they could do these things was just something that some random thing thought up, 6

however they could do these things, and the ability to do these things was a thing that not many things had, but still, these poor things thought that they were just things, no matter what things other things said, and because they didn't try to be anything more than just things, by the time these things would have mattered, it was already too late.

And so then, these things, these poor lonely things, died, thinking that they were just things.

7

CHAPTER 3

Nothing But Trouble an excerpt by Justin M. Anderson

Thursday Human resources has been flooded with complaints from my employees lately. More so than usual. I don’t think it’s wrong of me to require them to work harder. Nothing gets done if you don’t work hard. If they don’t like how I run Helix Remedies, then why’d they sign up?

And we are in a crisis, with the transformation going on downstairs and all.

We have to work hard.

As I made my way to my office this morning, I came across a tour underway.

I thought I cancelled those long ago. It caught my interest.

I recognized the man leading the tour. He was one of our scientists, and I’m guessing the woman and kids were his wife and children.

Kids. Yuck.

They started going down the stairs, so I followed them.

8

As they got closer to the containment chamber, I ran in front of them.

“Hello sir,” said the scientist. “How’s it going?

“What are you doing?” I asked. “Tours were canceled weeks ago.”

“I’m just showing my family around the place,” he replied. “They haven’t seen me much lately, so I wanted to show them what I’ve been doing. You didn’t used to have a problem with that.”

“Well, today it’s different, George. With Sigma and all. I think you should wrap up your tour and get out of here as soon as possible.”

Suddenly, the little boy started to wander towards the containment chamber.

He disappeared behind the door. I could hear a bunch of confused scientists.

“Mommy, mommy!” said the kid. “Come quick! There’s a lizard in here. A big one!”

I started running toward the containment chamber. When I got there, the scientists were trying to pry the kid off the glass. One of them was grabbing his shirt collar.

“Look at that lizard!” he squealed. “He’d make a GREAT PET!”

9

“A pet, huh?” snarled Sigma. “I’d make a wonderful pet. I’d guard the house.

Even from the owners.”

“He talks too,” squealed the kid. “I want him!”

I looked at Sigma and saw that the transformation had progressed dramatically. Sigma’s face had been pulled out into a snout, like a dinosaur, but with four nostrils.

His horns had grown much longer and they were now spiked. He had two larger, longer horns coming from his skull, and two small, short horns coming from behind his jaw. In place of his ears were about four or five violet tube-like growths.

His tail was almost as long as his body and his feet had changed too. They were longer and he had raptor-like sickle claws where his big toes used to be.

The spines on his head, back, tail and chest were also longer. His body was still very thin, but he had more muscle than when he was a human.

I somehow felt that I was staring at a fully transformed Sigma.

“George,” I snapped. “I need you to leave NOW. And get your creepy kid out of here!”

“We got a lizard just like that at home, son,” said George.

10

“But I want this one! He’s big and he talks!”

“NOW, GEORGE!” I repeated. “Do you want to anger Sigma?!”

“Hey,” said the kid. “Are you Dad’s boss? You’re the bad guy!”

“Kids never lie,” said a security guard.

“You’re both FIRED!” I roared. “And you kid, are PRE-FIRED from ever working here! So there!”

“You’re right son, he is a bad guy,” said George in shock. “Let’s get out of here.”

It was unsettling to watch George tell his wife what had just happened in only a few minutes. All four of them, including the security guard, left the room, chatting.

“It seems I won’t be the only one cheering when you’re dead,” Sigma hissed.

“I can’t help but agree with him. You’re a very bad man. And I’m going to eat you for what you did to me.”

I didn’t say anything.

“A pet.” whispered Sigma, scoffing at how ridiculous that thought was. “

11

I couldn’t help but laugh at the thought too, but Sigma didn't see it that way.

“I am so going to kill you,” he spat. “And it’s not going to be quick. I went through more pain last night than any human has ever endured. You must suffer for what you’ve done to me.”

“You could be arrested for words like that,” I said.

“But I’m an animal now, aren’t I? You can just dispose of me when you’re through with your experiment. Forget the trial and the jail.”

“That’s not my plan. Why can’t you just be nicer to me and trust me for once?”

“Every time I’ve seen a doctor, they’ve told me they’ll cure my cancer. Every time, they’ve failed and given me a month less to live. I hate doctors if you haven’t realized that by now. I thought Helix would be different, but I was wrong. I’ve never met more cruel people on my life.”

I kind of took offense to that, but didn’t say anything. So Sigma wanted me dead. Well, he’s not the first one to verbalize that. I seem to remember Subject Gamma being pretty angry too.

Everyone at the lab remembers him because his teeth fell out, and then of course there was Delta. She was a cryer and brought everyone down.

12

Why can’t we just have a normal person to deal with for a change? I’ll be holding perhaps the strangest meeting in history tomorrow, deciding what we’re going to do about Sigma.

“Wilbur,” called Sigma, “Oh Wilbur, come here. I want to eat you. I just can’t decide if it should be for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. ”

“How about none of the above,” l called back as I headed to my office.

“What seasoning should I use on you? Salt? Pepper? It’s going to take a lot of seasoning to get past your bitter taste.”

I shook my head as I went through the door. Sigma could not be negotiated with anymore.

When I returned to my office, there was another lab report on my desk. I just skimmed it, but got the information I needed. Apparently the virus the scientists found had finished its dirty work. It had erased all evidence of itself when it had completed Sigma’s transformation. He might as well have always looked the way he is.

I then dealt with human resources and got those people fired officially.

Apparently, you can’t do paperwork for someone who doesn’t work for you yet or is underage. At least I can still prevent that spoiled brat of a kid from ever working here. His name is now in the database and listed as banned for life.

By the time the day ended, I had two additional firings. One was a scientist who I overheard supporting Sigma’s plan to eat me. The other was his secretary, 13

who has a reputation for being totally loyal to him. I think they are dating or something. Oh well. Good riddance.

As I was leaving the facility for the day, I passed by the containment chamber one more time. I saw a couple of scientists right outside the door chatting with Sigma. I walked over to them to say hello and Sigma jumped at the glass, startling me.

Both me and my heart jumped in response.

“Woah,” I said. “You startled me, Sigma.”

“And you turned me into a lizard,” said Sigma. “You deserve to be startled and then some. I’m going to eat you.”

“Yeah,” I yawned. “Whatever.”

Sigma’s red eyes glared at me as I left the room.

14

CHAPTER 4

The Grand Puppeteer a short story by Lord Fang

When I told my parents that it had been a long day, it was a tremendous understatement. After two tests and a final lab in science I finally worked up the courage to ask my crush out on a date. So when I crawled into bed I decided to forgo YouTube for the night and just fall asleep.

Why didn't my dad turn the AC on I'm boiling alive in here. I thought as I got undressed and started to lay down. My eyes closed just before my head hit the pillow and I began to fall asleep. Just as I was about to be pulled into a dream my a barely distinguishable noise stirred me. It was slightly unsettling but not nearly enough for me to open my eyes. I moved around a bit in my bed trying to get comfortable as I drifted back into sleep. Another, louder noise jolted me up. It sounded like a moan. It was coming from my parents’ bedroom.

I was reminded of how I didn't say good night like I always did, and even how I lied that I had finished all my homework. I felt a little guilty and was even tempted to get out of bed and give them both a hug. I was already awake and it to warm under his blankets anyways. But I was stopped by my fear of the dark, which was only worsened by the moans.

After a few minutes I had convinced myself that it was just my imagination playing tricks on me and I let myself fall back asleep. But just as I closed my eyes I heard the scream of my mother.

I had only ever heard my mother in physical pain twice. When she had cut her hand on our camping trip and when she had fallen off of her bike and broke

15

her leg. Both times she instead she was ok and she told us not to worry. Nether time had she let go of anything remotely like a scream.

My hands fled the the long black blade on my night stand. It's silver edge reflecting my nightlight. I held it over my chest closing my eyes as tightly as I could.

Another scream shot through my room and shook my whole body. Fear surrounded me, touching every cell in my body.

My sympathy for my mother was matched only by the fear of what might happen to me.

Just as I was considering the idea of running as fast as I could I remembered who was screaming. My mother who was always at my side, my mother who never let me suffer alone. My mother who was the first person that I came out to. My mother, the woman who I would never abandon.

I got out of bed gripping the knife as if I was holding onto a rope over an abyss. I opened my door and turned on the lights. Half of them flickered on while the rest remained dark. My dad still hasn't changed the light bulbs. I thought to myself as the dim light bounced off of my skin. The cold air passed through my clothes and into my heart as I tried to stay brave.

As I meandered down the narrow halls the wails of mother sank into my skin and attacked my heart.

My sympathy for my mother was matched only by the fear of what might happen to me.

I stood two feet from the pail wooden door as a massive scream burst from my within the room. My mind wandered to what could be behind that door. I tried to stop myself from thinking about it as I turned the handle.

16

In front of my parents’ rickety wooden bed stood a black cloaked figure whose head nearly touched the ten foot ceiling. In front of him floating in the air was the distorted body of my mother. Each of her joints was bent far past the breaking point at unusual angles. Her bones seemed out of place all over her body.

But the most shocking change was the dark streaks that had formed beneath the skin in place of her veins.

"Hel-o-o su-u-un ho-w are y-you," said the figure that was once my mom in a voice that was not her own. Her jaws moments where way over exaggerated to the point where it was dislocated with ever salable.

"I'm sorry . . . I still have a lot of practice to do with my ventriloquy," said the black figure turning towards me. What I had previously mistaken for a cloak was actually a part of his body. Black fabric seemed to be melded with his pale white skin with nether stitches nor staples to connect them. My body was frozen for a second before I threw my knife at the man. I blinked just after throwing the knife and as I reopened my eyes I found my father standing between the two of us the knife sticking out of his hand.

"Wh-y d-d-did yo-u do th-a-t, you wouldn-n't want t-o-o hurt d-dear old da-ad would you?" He said his jaw moving similarly to my mother’s. All this time, I had forgotten my father who would have never forgotten me. Even when I told him that I hated him, he was there for me.

“Why?” I stuttered fear shaking my voice.

“I was hoping to add some new puppets to my collection and your family was too good of material to pass up. You see the waters have been stirred in a way which waters ought not to be stirred and i need many many puppets to keep them calm” he said with a face splitting smile.

"Enough fun and games it's time for you to join your parents as one of my puppets." He said as he stuck his long blade like finger into my petrified body. I felt a warm liquid move through my veins in the blink of an eye. I felt my arms jult out pulled by the liquid inside me. The moved with such force that my shoulders were dislocated. I tried to scream but my jaw was locked in place letting out only a strained moan. "I'm going to fix you right up starting by dislocating those pesky 17

joints that always seem to get in the way." I felt tremendous pressure pushing down on my hands which forced my elbows to dislocate and my hands to go into my arm pits. "After I'm finished with that I'll see if I can" he stopped for a moment before spitting “remove the homosexual from you," the same phrase had been spat at me by a priest six years ago.

I had asked a boy in my pair group if he liked me too and a priest pulled me aside. After my parents heard about that I never returned to church again, and my parents made sure to remind me that I could love whoever I wanted. When this thing said it, it made me feel like it was true. Like it was a sin. Like I was a sin.

I was pulled from my thoughts by the tremendous pain of my knees being dislocated.

"You'll make a fine puppet after all," he said as he destroyed my body to the point where not a single bone was in its rightful place.

18

CHAPTER 5

I Step

a poem by Vasantha Susarla I step on every crack in the sidewalk. I want them get bigger. I want them to expand I want them to swallow me and squeeze me and be a physical metaphor for what is happening to my mind right now.

Shuffle and shuffle and shuffle me through everybody's hands, try to squeeze me and set me right.

I'm not fooling around. I'm climbing, I'm stepping, I'm trying to play the music loud but the hands keep holding me back. I’m struggling. I’m crying.

Why can't you see me? Why can't your hands hold onto mine? Why do they wrap around my wrist and drag me places I don't want to be. I just don't want to be.

19

My mind is waging a silent war of words and electricity is pumping through my veins so you better let go. I don't have the strength of a hurricane but I do have the power of thousands of volts surging through my mind and boy . . . aren't you little?

I'm still stepping on the cracks in the sidewalk and I don't think I'll ever stop. I'll let you hands be around my wrist. I'll just be and let my mind overflow with all the things I can't say or write or hope.

Maybe I'll learn to love your hands since they are warm and close and here.

Maybe I'll just be, just for today.

Just for today.

20

CHAPTER 6

Holding Your Blade a short story by CRJ

“Fire!” The Captain yelled. The ship fired three rounds at the approaching enemy. The enemy ship dodged it, and took an attack position. The enemy ship fired six rounds, two of which met their mark, breaching the rear hull.

“God,” the captain murmured to himself, “how did this happen?”

Fifteen hours earlier

“So,” said Captain Kane, of the ISEF (Interstellar Earth Fleet) starship Dagger’s Point, “can you please explain to me again what exactly it is that you are installing into my ship?”

“Gladly.” Said the engineer. “We are putting in a couple of major things, a few hardware upgrades, plus a variety of computer system upgrades, and various miscellaneous tweaks here and there. One of the major additions is a new type of weapons system. It is called the Light Intensity Manipulation Beam, or LIMP system.”

Kane began to get interested.

“The bosses want me to give you a whole speech about how it is the next step in technology, and how it represents the integrity of Fleet, but I’ll save both of our time and sum it up for you. The way it works is that, using very complicated machinery, it heats creates a beam of extremely intense light, and excites the particles around it.”

21

They sat down on a bench, while the engineer pulled out a couple of papers. He showed them to Kane. Kane looked at them, and saw that they were schematics for the LIMP system.

“I am afraid that you don’t have a choice. In fact I agree with you. We are being way too hastily with our technological

“Then you just point it whatever it is that happens to be pissing you off. It’s basically a laser gun. A very expensive, complicated, and experimental laser gun.

Speaking of which, it is experimental, so we do not recommend turning the intensity up too high on it. At least until we get some field data on it from your ship.”

Kane cleared his throat. “Well,” he said “that definitely sounds promising. By the way, what exactly would happen if we turned up the intensity too high?”

developments. But I’m

“Well, it would overheat, and probably explode.”

afraid we both have our

Kane began to get alarmed.

orders.”

“And you are installing this on my ship?! What if it malfunctions?”

“I am afraid that you don’t have a choice. In fact I agree with you. We are being way too hastily with our technological developments. But I’m afraid we both have our orders.”

“In that case, I’ll tell my crew to be extra careful.”

The engineer motioned for them to keep walking.

They stood up, and the engineer motioned again for them to continue. “And if you’ll follow me, and I’ll bring you to the next major installment.”

As they were walking, Kane spotted the First Officer of the Dagger’s Point, Commander Hanks.

22

“Hanks!” he called to him. “Come over here.” Hanks started walking towards them. As he did, the captain turned to the engineer. “Do you mind if my First Officer joins us?”

“Not at all, he’s welcome to tag along. Besides, it would probably be good for the First Officer to know about the experiment equipment being installed on his ship.”

Hanks reached them and said, “Yes Captain?”

“If you’re not too busy on shore leave, would you like to tag along with us.

Engineer, uh, I’m sorry I never caught your name.”

“Lopez, sir.”

Hanks stepped forward. “Wait, aren’t you the engineer that is being transferred to our ship?”

“I guess so. I was informed I was being transferred, but they forgot to actually tell me what ship.”

“In that case, welcome aboard,” said the Captain.

“Anyway, as I was saying, Lopez is taking me on a tour of the station, and telling me about the new installments.” Would you like to tag along, if you are not too busy on shore leave?”

“Sure, besides, you would hardly be able to call it shore leave. They go my living quarters mixed up, so as of so far, I have just been walking around the station.”

“In that case,” said Lopez, ”let's be on our way.” Lopez led them around the maintenance bay, on their way to the next major installment. On the way, he pointed out and explained some other minor changes/upgrades.

“Here we are, the other major improvement.” He pointed to the ship’s engines, which seemed to be under heavy construction. “We are also installing all of the equipment on the inside of the ship that you will need to maintenance and monitor it.”

23

Kane looked up at the device that was being installed into his ship, and without looking down said “Very impressive, but what exactly is ‘it’, Engineer?”

“Well sir, that is an SM drive.

“What does it do?” asked Hanks.

“I assume that you have heard all of the rumors about ‘faster-than-light-speed’ engines being developed by the government?”

“Yes.” “And I also assume that you have discredited them?”

“Yes, but based on this conversation I am starting to rethink that.”

“Captain Kane, Commander Hanks, I would like to meet the Space Manipulation Drive. As I assume you have figured out, it does indeed allow a ship to move at speeds surpassing the speed of light.”

“But that counteracts everything that we know about basic physics. It is impossible.”

“Well, let me rephrase. It does not actually allow a ship to move faster than the speed of light. And as you said, it is impossible for any object to move faster than the speed of light.”

“So why did you say that it does?”

“Because, while it does not let objects move faster than the speed of light, it does allow it to travel faster than the speed of light.”

“Um... What?”

“Well what it does, is it... Here let me put it to you this way. The objects itself is traveling at sublight speeds, but in addition to that, what the SM drive does is it manipulates the atoms around itself to create very tiny warp bubbles, which in case you don’t know are, well basically tiny tears in space. It then makes these bubbles bigger by a process that you probably don’t care about, so I’ll skip it. Once the bubbles are big enough that they form one huge bubble around the ship, um, hold on.”

24

Lopez stopped for a couple of seconds to try to figure out how to put it into words.

“To try to put it simply, by that point the ship is not technically even in the universe anymore, so what it then does, is it pushes the bubbles around, dragging the ship with it, and actually manipulates the universe itself around the bubbles, allowing it to travel at speeds which surpass the speed of light. And that pretty much sums up where your tax dollars have been going for the last couple of decades. Do either of you have any questions.”

“What happens if we do?”

Both Kane and Hank had absolutely utterly confused looks on their faces.

“Um, ya. Is this one one also experimental?”

“Very.”

“Three guesses.”

“Of course it is.”

“And as it can barely handle 2% past the speed of light, do not push it too hard.”

“What happens if we do?”

“Three guesses.”

“Three guesses as to if we die, or three guesses as to how we die?”

“Either one.”

“Wait . . . We get get totally erased from existence, we blow up, or we rip a hole in reality?”

“Ding ding, we have a winner.”

“Which one of those was right.”

“Do you really want to know?”

25

“You have a point.”

“Anyway,” said the captain, “it looks as if all of the upgrades are done, so we all need to report back to the ship. I'll give Lopez a tour of the ship, and show him his new station and living quarters. We have an assignment in the Gamma Charlie B54 quadrant.”

“Isn’t that near enemy territory?”

“Yes, but they have not attacked us in a while. We’ll be fine.”

Fourteen and a half hours later

“Captain, what do we do?” yelled Hank.

“We’re running out of options; we’ll have to use the new weapon.”

“But Lopez said-” “I know, it’s experimental, but we have no other choice.”

“Alright. Helmsman, are you ready to fire the new weapon.”

“Yes sir.”

“All right, fire on my mark...... Fire!” There was a very loud humming sound as the LIMP system fired.

The multicolored beam shot out from the front of the ship, and punched a hole in the enemy ship’s hull outer frame.

“We breached their upper hull sir!” Shouted one of the crewman. “But it wasn’t enough. It didn’t puncture all the way through. Only through the outer frame.”

“Look out! They’re firing!” shouted another crewman as the enemy ship shot two holes in the inner hull of the Dagger’s Point.

“We have pressure leakage on decks 3, 4, and 7!”

26

“That’s it,” said Kane, “We have no more options.” He pressed a button that connects him to the engineering section intercom.

“Lopez!”

“Yes sir?” Lopez replied through the the intercom.

“Is the SM drive ready?”

“Sir, I very highly advise you not to use it.”

“We don’t have a choice!”

“In that case, yes sir, it is ready to be activated.”

“Do it.”

“Sir, I very highly advise you not to use it.”

“Yes sir, but before I do, would you like to know which one of your three guesses as to how we would die was correct?”

“Not really.”

“We don’t have a choice!”

“Ok then. Firing up the SM drive.”

Hank turned to the captain and said, “Sir we can’t, it takes too long to activate, and if we try to activate it too quickly, it will malfunction, and, well, you know the rest.”

“We don’t have time for safety.” Kane turned back to the intercom. “Lopez activate it.”

“Activating in three... two... one...activating!”

The ship began to shake violently. Over the intercom, Lopez’s distorted voice said, “Sir, we activated I too quickly! I knew that we should have been more careful. I should have protested more when they told me to install it.

It's overheating. It’s tearing itself apart. It.. It's going to-” The ship disappeared from enemy radar.

27

CHAPTER 7

I Would Write a Story, But All the Good Ones Are Taken a short story by Dylan MacIntyre

I hate Tuesdays.

Mondays are bad because you have a whole week of school ahead of you.

Wednesdays and Thursdays are tolerable since you’re almost done with the week. Fridays are practically weekends anyway. Saturdays and Sundays are pretty self-explanatory.

If you’re a high school student, you’re probably thinking, ‘Wow, this guy totally gets me!’ If you’re a confused adult wondering if this is going to be another YA novel where I complain about my oh-so-difficult First World problems, I suggest you put this down and find a Nicholas Sparks book.

Now that that’s done, let’s get to the story.

As I said six sentences ago, I hate Tuesdays.

Tuesdays are when teachers pile on a Mount Everest of homework and tests.

Tuesdays are running from school to Writing Club to piano lessons. Tuesday was when I bid farewell to my quiet Oregon suburbia and drove to New York City in a stuffy moving van. The Tuesday after that, I met my roommate for the next four years.

We hated each other.

Despite his father setting up a second bed on the other side, he hadn’t cleaned his room and instead took the liberty in propping an electric guitar by the bed frame, tossing empty potato chip bags on the pillows, and burying my duvet in laundry he was too lazy to fold. Crumbs and cans crusted the carpet, dirt coated 28

his windowsill, and unfinished drawings littered his desk. The royal blue walls were covered in a mosaic of magazine rock band posters, FIFA stars, and pictures of people I assumed were his friends.

As I searched for any sign of a clean spot to put my luggage down, I heard talking downstairs, where my dad, stepfather (sort of), and sister discussed living arrangements. Then I heard the front door open. It must’ve been the other kid.

“Hey dad, don’t you think it’d be important to tell me we have company?”

The boy—my new roommate and unofficial stepbrother—asked almost too politely. He turned to my father and younger sister and said, "Please, take a seat.

Help yourself to the TV. I just need a moment with my dear father."

He and his dad left the room and muffled arguing was heard behind closed doors. I creeped down the wooden staircase to join my family on the couch.

"So Jax, how are you liking it?" My father asked.

"It could be worse," I said.

"That's nice."

We sat for what seemed like an hour, but according to the grandfather clock next to the couch it's only been five minutes. My father picked up a copy of National Geographic from the wooden coffee table. My sister, Deliah, played Angry Birds on her phone. I needed to escape the uncomfortable silence.

"I need to use the bathroom," I lied.

"Down the hall, on the right," Deliah said, not looking up from her phone.

Grateful to get out of the Awkward Zone, I made my way down the hall. I stopped abruptly in front of a heavy brown door halfway when I heard them talking about me. Curious, I pressed my ear against the wall.

"Dylan, just give the boy a chance," my stepfather implored. "He might surprise you."

"I don't want to give him a chance!" The boy—Dylan—exclaimed. "I'm sick of chances! I'm sick of you bringing in a new boyfriend or girlfriend and their kids 29

every other year and expecting me to just accept it even though I know they all end in fights and breakups!"

"That is none of your concern!"

"Of course it is! I've had to live through not one, not two, but FIVE FREAKING PARTNERS!" "You know I just want us to have a normal family."

"Face it dad, some families aren't meant to be normal," Dylan said softly.

"It never hurts to try. Now go clean up your room while I make dinner," my stepfather commanded.

Before I could pry my ear from the wall, the door swung open and I came face-to-face with a punk teenage boy four inches taller than me (granted, I was only five feet five). He glowered at me with revulsion, as if he was a four-year-old and I was a piece of broccoli.

"Dad, does this one come with a gift receipt?" He asked rudely.

"Dylan," my stepfather warned.

"Fine." Dylan rolled his eyes and headed upstairs My stepfather apologized. "I'm sorry about him. He's not good at dealing with change. Give him a couple weeks, 'kay?"

"It's fine," I said. "I understand."

"Good. Once Dylan's done cleaning we can get acquainted over dinner."

"Sounds nice," I mumbled, quietly enough that my sarcasm went under the radar.

30