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Grade
7

I woke up in my cold, dark house. It must be early. I stepped into my parents’ room and was surprised to find them still sleeping.

    “Mom?” I asked. “Dad?” No answer. I checked the time on my watch and realized that it was 1:00 in the morning. As I walked out of their room, I closed the door behind me slowly so as to not wake them up. I knew I’d never be able to fall back asleep and I didn’t have school today anyway, so I went downstairs to get a snack. The pantry door was stuck closed, which wasn’t much of a problem as it just makes it tougher to open. I eventually managed to open it and grab my biscuits. After that, I opened my fridge, feeling the cool breeze from it, and took the butter. As soon as I set down my biscuit, I lost my appetite. I don’t like it here. I never have and I never will. I screamed uncontrollably, forgetting that I was trying to stay quiet. I heard angry groans coming from upstairs. Obviously I woke up my parents. I just laid on the cold, wooden floor as my mother and father stumbled down the stairs.

    “Rob!” they screamed. “Where are you?!?” I waited, not answering their constant screaming of my name.

    “Robert Johnson! Get over here right now!” my mother repeated. I got up, but rather than walking towards my parents for another lecture, I walked out the back door, and off into the small forest behind our house.

    I always liked exploring the woods up here in the mountains. It was always a peaceful place where I could be alone. I enjoyed the smell of the pine trees and the view from the mountains looking down into the rivers was amazing. I sat down in my usual spot, looking into the rushing water in the river rapids. I could hear the birds chirping and the wind blowing against the trees. I sat here for a long time, as I usually did. I heard some rustling behind me and quickly got up, ready to run. Could my parents know where I am? I thought. As a figure came out of the trees onto the ledge where I am, I realized that it was just my friend Amethyst. We both hate it here in this town. We want to leave. The forest was the only place we could come to escape reality for a while.

    “Hey,” she said, smiling. “What’s up?” Not wanting to answer, I sat down and stared into the palms of my hands.

    “Not much,” I replied, not even glancing at her. It was obvious that I was lying. She rolled her eyes.

    “Was I actually supposed to believe that?” she asked jokingly. I didn’t reply, but instead sat down on the cold, soft ground, looking down into the river again. She sat down next to me. I could feel her soft, warm hand on my shoulder.

    “Oh c’mon,” she said. “It can’t be that bad.” That was true. I was over exaggerating. I reached for my phone and realized I didn’t have it anymore. I had dropped it in the river after trying to take a picture of a squirrel on a rock.

    “What time is it?” I asked, rubbing my forehead. “I’m tired.” I stepped up and started to walk away, but Amethyst followed me. I turned around.

    “Why are you following me?” I asked.

    “Oh, sorry,” she said, walking away. I stepped into my house, bracing for the lecture I was sure would come. Yet nothing happened. They must’ve fallen back asleep. I started to walk upstairs, being as quiet as my body would allow. I slowly pushed open the door to my room and stepped inside. I closed the door, locking it. I got into bed as I rubbed my eyes. Just as I was about to fall asleep, I heard my door being unlocked. Uh-oh. My parents burst in with angry looks on their faces.

    “Robert!” My mother started. “I’m very disappointed in you.” Aren’t you always, I said in my head.

    “You know you’re not supposed to be up this late and you know that you’re not supposed to leave without permission!” she screamed.

    “Well maybe I’d stay here if I enjoyed being here!” I snapped back. “Or at least if I could stand being here for more than a few hours at a time!” I got up, ran out of the room, down the stairs, and out the back door. I ran back into the woods and onto the ledge that I sat on earlier. I layed down, closing my eyes. Finally I can get some rest. I thought of how amazing it would be away from here, somewhere where I could be alone. I could feel the cold breeze scrape against my face, as I fell asleep, smiling.

 

    I woke up to the sound of a clock ticking rather loudly, but as I opened my eyes, I saw nothing. Am I imagining things? I stood up. Tick-tock, tick-tock. It repeated over and over in my head. I fell to the ground on my hands and knees. I looked up to see a dark, hooded figure, who quickly scurried back into the forest. Just like that, the ticking was gone. I looked into the backpack that I left here earlier and pulled out a map. As I stared at the map, I realized how close I was to the neighboring city. I could actually escape. I quickly ran away towards Amethyst’s house.

 

    I ran up and knocked on Amethyst’s door. I stood there and waited for a few seconds, but got impatient and just opened the door myself. Surprised to see nobody there, I started to walk upstairs.

    “Amethyst? You here?” I asked. Eh, she’s probably not home. I started to walk back downstairs when I heard a voice from upstairs.

    “Wait!” said the voice, which I guessed was Amethyst. I walked back up the stairs.

    “Hey,” I said. “What took so long?” Her door stayed shut.

    “Sorry,” she replied. “You just woke me up. I’ll get out now.” Amethyst opened her door and walked out.

“Okay so what do you want?” she asked somewhat impolitely, rubbing her eyes.

“We can escape this place,” I started. “We’re not far away from the closest city. Only a thirty minute walk.”

“Wait let me get this straight…” she replied annoyed. “We could’ve left this whole time? Well what are we waiting for? Let’s go!” Amethyst and I ran as quickly as we could out of the front door and into the wild.

 

When we got deeper into the woods, we realized it would surely be tough to get through to the nearest city. It was freezing and dark. I could hear rustling in the nearby bushes.

“What’s that?” I whispered to Amethyst. “Is that you?” I didn’t get a response. I looked behind me where I thought Amethyst was and I couldn’t see her there. Panicked, I looked around everywhere, desperately trying to find her.

“Amethyst!” I screamed. Still nothing besides the eerie sound of the wilderness. I was far from civilization. I had no idea which way was which. Worse, I was all alone. I would surely die out here.

“Goodbye,” I whispered into the silence of the forest. I layed on the ground to await my final rest.

Grade
9

Dear Journal,

 

Have you ever talked to someone and later contemplated what it would feel like to never see them again? To never hear their voice again and just to be haunted by their last words? And the thought of the last words you said to them being your goodbye? Maybe you just never think of this until someone you loved leaves. Then you start to understand how meaningful each goodbye is, because each could be your last.

Goodbye for me was really an Aloha--a goodbye and a hello. It is used to greet someone and to say goodbye when you depart. But it also means so much more than that, as it is used only to greet someone for whom you feel love or compassion.

We first received the radical decree about three months ago: “All newborn males of the Hebrew race are to be killed at birth.” This was what Pharaoh believed was a reasonable answer to his problem with the Hebrew people. He was worried that the Hebrews would become too powerful and riot against the Egyptians, so this was the best initiative he could think of.

My mother is expecting a baby any day now, and I am very worried. ‘G-d, please keep my little sibling safe.’ We don’t know yet if it will be a girl or boy but I know my parents are very worried thinking about what they should do if the baby is a boy. Babies are very loud, mama and papa say. They say my little brother Aaron was a very loud baby. I am only seven years old and he was born four years ago, so I don’t remember him being born. I just remember him being my little brother who I will always protect.

 

One day later….

Mama had her baby today!!! The sad thing is, and I hope I won’t be sorry for writing this, but it’s a BOY! I hear mama and papa whispering at night deciding to hide him. I am worried for this, What if my precious baby brother is taken? What if I have to say goodbye to him forever? Many images and thoughts are floating through my mind. Mama says a young girl like me should not have to worry about things like that. BUT he is my brother! My brother! Oh, I would give anything to keep him safe in our house, but no one knows the future except for G-d above.

In times like these, G-d is my only strength because He promised my ancestors that He would keep His people in His hands. He said He would rise them up, but right now that’s not what I feel…..

Baby brother gets bigger and louder everyday. I’m worried a Egyptian guard will find him soon! I wonder what life he would have to live if he had to be hidden for fear of getting drowned in the Nile River? That thought scares me! What if I am never able to play with my baby brother like I do with my other little brother Aaron?

 

Three months later….

Today is the day…. mama and papa said we have to let go of baby brother. I helped mama make a basket weaved with bulrushes and covered with pitch and gooey slime. I could barely see to help her through my tears. So many thoughts torture me. How could Pharaoh do this to us? Does he not realize the pain and sadness that overwhelms your whole body? I look over my shoulder and see baby brother. There are no words to describe him. He is part of my life. I couldn’t imagine living without him now, without the innocent, bubbly baby who knows how to make me smile even through the tears.

He doesn’t know his future and he lives for each day, smiling always. I realize that he is just like the sparrows in the sky above, not worried about the future because they know that G-d will always provide for them. Papa reminds me of this.

Now the time is near when we will have to say goodbye. Papa says I have to be a big girl and take baby brother to the river and lay him in the reeds. He says it is my responsibility as his big sister. The unspoken truth is that we are making one of the most important decisions of our lives. We know not if he will survive even ten minutes in the Nile River, for there are many deadly snakes, spiders, huge animals, and crocodiles. But we’re taking the chance and the possibility that maybe he will survive. Maybe he will be delivered by G-d’s hands to someone in a place without the cruel law of killing innocent people, a safe haven where he can grow up. I won’t mind if he never remembers me. If only I can be sure he is alive and well somewhere, it won’t matter who he’s with. G-d will protect him, but just to be sure he is alive would be everything to me. Maybe in my dreams he will remember me…

As I sneak him to the river in the basket, his smile kills me inside, so I have to look away. It’s a cloudy day today and the day looks as I feel: sad and dreary. I lay him in the water and I feel a burden on my shoulders. I know I can’t take all day, because it will not get easier from here. It will only get worse if I don’t let go of him right now.

I kiss him one more time and I know I’ll never forget this moment. I lay him down in the water in his basket, and give the basket a light push. I watch as he slowly drifts off, cooing and moving his little arms… my little brother gone into the unknown…

I follow him down the river bank and pray nothing bad crosses his path.

 

A little while later….

I stop because suddenly my baby brother gets stuck in the reeds by the palace. I am very worried! That is where those evil and cold-hearted people live. I despise them all! The Pharaoh, the Queen, the Princess, the Princes, the soldiers! I do not care for any of them!

A servant girl is coming toward my baby brother and I can hear some muffled voices! Ah! My baby brother floated into the Princess’ bathing courtyard! I duck and gasp. I creep forward trying to catch what they’re saying, but I fear someone will connect me with him and kill us both! I watch her pick up the basket and open the lid. She gasped and a look of great distress fell on her face. She looked very shocked and was hesitant to tell the Princess of her discovery. But the Princess is a very clever girl and instantly read her servant’s face.

“Bring me the basket immediately!” Commanded the Princess.

I watched as the servant girl brought the basket and slowly lifted the lid off.

“Is that an…. Egyptian BABY? Boy?” The Princess gasped.

“Yes, your majesty. It is a baby of the Hebrew race,” Replied her maid,. “And it is a boy.”

“Oh poor thing,” cried the Princess.

“Please your majesty, if I find favor in your eyes please spare his life.” Pleaded the Princess’ servant.

The Princess looked upon my brother and found compassion towards him. I watched this scene and I could not believe my ears. I crept closer to make sure I was hearing and seeing right. This could not be true, my brother had a chance to be saved!

“Your majesty, what will you do with him?” Asked the servant girl anxiously. “You know the orders of your father, the Pharaoh, about the Egyptian baby boys….”

“This Hebrew baby shall not perish under my watch! I will protect him for he has found favor in my eyes.”

I don’t really understand how, but I felt an urge from somewhere deep down inside of me to go tell the Princess that she could get a Hebrew woman to nurse the baby for her. So with a sudden boost of boldness, I walked up to the Princess.

“Shall I go and get one of the Hebrew women to nurse the baby for you?” I asked her with my high hopes, hidden love, and care as only a sister can feel, displayed plainly on my face.

“Yes, go my dear. Take the baby, nurse him and I will repay you.”

I had no words for her, I stood in shock of this new reality. She looked at me and waited for me to answer, when I didn’t, she just said plainly- “Go now dear, and if anyone stops you tell them to come speak to me.”

“Thank you very much, your Majesty.” That was all I could breath out, my brother was going to live!!!!

I walked home thanking G-d for what He had done for me. I could not believe it. He really answered my prayers!

When I got home, I ran inside with the baby. He was giggling loudly because of the bumpy ride. I opened the door and there was my mother. She was trying to keep busy but I know her mind was only on one thing. She looked up at me with no tears in her eyes, it seemed she had no more tears, she had run out. She told me with much emotion in her voice. “Miriam, it will not get easier to put off the task. You must do it. Do you not understand--”

I quickly told her the story and she started to cry. I did not understand how she could be smiling AND crying at the same time! “Mother, why are you sad? He’s back to us and safe, forever now.”

She laughed which was very odd and said “It is tears of joy! Joy honey! Not sadness. We must thank G-d for saving our little boy.”

I hugged Moses close to me and smiled. I liked that name, Moses, Pharaoh's daughter had named him that.

In my heart thought I knew I would have to let go of him soon. Nothing lasts forever

 

Four years later…

This day is so unlike the other day when I had to say goodbye to my brother. Today I’ll be giving him away but still keeping him in my memories. Now I know he will be safe in the palace with the royals. He will not have to labor as a slave like all of the Hebrew race. A crucial difference that will be between us is that his skin will always be so pale compared to our skin as it will not be scorched from the sun after long endless days of slave labor under the Egyptian sun. Many people believe pale skin is the most beautiful and desirable skin color. I cannot imagine it any other way. People with tan skin are the ones who work the hardest and usually are of our Hebrew race. This is because only the rich people can get a job that is good enough to not be in the sun, laboring all day. This time I have mixed feelings--I am going to miss the baby, but he is going to a better place than we are in right now. I am very grateful that I got to have my time with him extended from three months to four years!

 

A while later….

I know my love for Moses! G-d has shown me that people will walk in and out of your life and sometimes you won’t understand why. But you have to try to live your life to the fullest because they might walk back into your life and you’ll have to accept that. I don’t know if I’ll ever see Moses again, or if he will remember me, but I have faith. G-d holds the future and He will fill that void in my life with His love for me.

Grade
9

I remember teaching you to drink. You were ready, you had said, to experience a different perspective of life. Cross country wasn’t fun anymore, and  you and your mom were fighting again. There was a small, weak part of my conscious that said “Stop, she’s too young,” but I ignored it. We were the same age; you only looked years younger. Your Justice pants matched perfectly with your sparkly flower shirt.

Before we left for the woods, you had to give your sister the four leaf clover you had found earlier that day. Scyler and I waited impatiently by the bus stop. We called out, told you to wrap it up so that we could catch the 3:17 bus. Your hands were still stained with dirt. You hugged your sister anyway and told her to go home and be with your mother. You watched her walk away -  the whole time until she was out of sight.

When we got there, the trees blocked out the afternoon sunlight. For a couple moments, it was dark. We sat. Our seats were rocks in the wet, sandy creek. There was green all around us and the strong aroma of alcohol as we opened the bottles.

You couldn’t stomach the taste. “It burns,” I remember you saying. Your face crinkled, and your eyes squinted until barely visible. I laughed it off, thinking to myself how much of a rookie you were. I had suggested you guzzle it, and so you had: downed your first beer in less than 15 seconds. A sip missed your mouth, splattered onto that purple flower shirt. I pretended not to be notice.

What I didn’t tell you was that it was my first time too. I had never been drunk, but passed off this discarding of innocence like it was nothing. In reality, my whole world was different, new. My peripheral vision began to blur, and my thoughts grew cloudy. The sour taste of alcohol drowned out the noises of cars beeping outside the woods, the feeling of my phone silently vibrating in my pocket.

When our stolen bottles were empty, we competed to throw them the farthest. I don’t remember who won. What I do is the sound of the empty, hollow bottles clang against the wet rocks of the creek. It echoed through the small clearing like a scream in a cave.

You then turned to us, me and Scyler, with a weird expression on your face. A noise not unlike a kitten’s whine came out of your mouth. You kept your face locked in a position I have never seen anybody make: your nose scrunched, your eyes shut just enough, and your lips curled upward. You stayed that way for a while.

Later, after you tried to fight Scyler, you disappeared. Where, I do not know. One moment, you were sitting, staring at the sky. The next you were gone. We found you crying, but for what reason I do not know. You started gushing about anything and everything. In the midst of your slobbery, rambling rant, you called me pretty. I was too flattered to pay attention to what you were saying.

 

I remember teaching you how to lie in the back of the 32C bus, going downtown. You wanted people to believe you, but you were a terrible liar. You just got tripped up every time, you said, clearly upset. When you talked about your family, your neck became buried in the large grey sweatshirt you so often started to wear. You would run your hand through your hair as your face started to get red and your voice strained.

I decided to help you out. What little conscious I had insisted that it was for the best. I laid out the necessary things you needed to know: slip the lie in with truths; be casual, don’t appear like you’re trying to force the audience into believing anything; believe your lie.

We practiced on each other, telling lies and truths about our lives. I told you my cat died. You said your uncle was moving back in, and you couldn’t be home anymore. I responded with tales of my make-believe summer boyfriend. You tilted your head back and laughed, showing all of your teeth and making onlookers on the bus turn around.

You had dreams of being in theater. I could tell you enjoyed this, even though you couldn’t do it right. The lie was too blatantly obvious whenever you spoke. I told you, one last time: “Slip the lie in like it’s nothing, adding it in like a tiny detail. Who would lie about something so small?” I was showing off my knowledge of lying, and you were buying into it, with your wide, open eyes. Finally I had found a use for the pointless lies I had told since fifth grade. Our conversation dwindled off. I found myself staring into the grey material of your hoodie.

It didn’t even cross my mind that I shouldn’t be teaching you this. I was enjoying the attention, basking in it like a snake does the sunshine. It was only a couple months later, when you told me you were fine, that I believed it. That was the only time I couldn't tell if you were lying or not. 

 

The cloudy green substance in my palm stank up the air like stale perfume, a month after the first woods incident. Scyler, you, and I all stared at it with undivided attention. “I’m not sure…” you started to say softly, but after catching sight of the glint in our eyes you stopped talking. There was nothing else to be said.

Upon returning to those woods, the bush acted as our shield from the outside world as we blew cloud after cloud. You swirled your fingers in it, making odd shapes and patterns that only made sense to you. It was funny, it seemed, and we all laughed harder than we had in months. At one point, there was a comfortable silence as we all stared at our surroundings; I had my eyes locked on a brown leaf on the ground, Scyler gazed intently at the sky, and your eyes were focusing on my face.

You broke the silence, something you were starting to do frequently. “We should run away.” Normally, a statement like that would have annoyed me, but right then I couldn’t have cared less. I laughed, enjoying the airy feeling in my head. I tried to respond, but my words couldn’t travel to my tongue before I forgot what I was going to say. The quiet whisper of the trees took over.

We must have been there awhile, because what seemed like minutes led to your mom texting you, “Be home now or you’re grounded for two weeks.” The smiles flipped on our faces as we all figured out what in the world we could possibly do to cover. The smell? Our behavior?

In the end you slung on the shirt you kept in your bag for cross country practice. You didn’t need it anyway, having skipped practices for weeks now. You didn’t know what to do with the shirt you had on, so in a spur of the moment decision you decided to throw it in your neighbors dumpster as we walked you home. It was the same shirt from the first day in the woods. I could almost see that purple flower on the front wilting as it was thrown next to cat litter and dirty tissues, and the sparkles on the front seemed to stop shining.

 

On March 8th you were rapidly talking about something you did while you were high. I was not there that time. I had to hear the story while slowly cranking out algebra after algebra problem. I was halfway paying attention, only enough to catch the idea of the story.

You were adamant that I know not only the ending, but the beginning and every detail in between. Your eyes were wild. You kept swinging your dyed hair over your shoulder for emphasis. Even though you were a private person, your tone kept getting louder and louder, only to have it shushed as I tried to focus.

“But then when I got home, it was-” My attention dropped off every couple seconds as you kept talking. Your voice had dropped to a reasonable level, but I hardly noticed. “My mom just kept going-” Scyler was to my right, asleep in class as she used to be most of the time. My patience was waning but I didn’t have enough energy to bother doing anything about it. “Hitting and threatened to-” I couldn’t figure out the second to last problem on the sheet. I was so close to finishing it. So close. “But then I didn’t-” your voice had dropped to a mere whisper at this point, so soft the people beside you couldn’t hear. I could focus on my work a lot easier. I was almost done. “Was over.” You finished talking, but I didn’t know. Not until I interrupted with a harsh tone of shut up. I didn’t look at you, instead focusing on the paper in front of me.

You started to walk out of class. Scyler called after you, suddenly awake, asking if you were alright. You turned around, face red, eyes narrow, saying “I’m fine.” For once, I couldn’t tell if you were lying or not.

You were. I only realized it after, but after was too late. The last time I saw you was when you gave me a look filled with hatred and rejection. I haven’t seen you in 8 months, but your face still appears every time I close my eyes. They tried to replace you with a photoshopped, filtered memorial picture in the yearbook, but that will never be you. You were of unbrushed hair, liquid eyeliner, and that ugly flower shirt. But when you walked out of math, your previously favorite class, you walked out of life forever.

Grade
8

Remember that time when you came to my house wearing a pale blue hoodie and black joggers, your dark hair hadn’t been touched or tampered with since you opened your eyes to a new day that gray morning. Remember that time when your intimidating yet soft brown irises stared right into mine; the varied shades of brown, constructing patterns; oceans and waves; ribbons and folded fabrics; blending and mixing together, creating something amazing. Art. An entire undiscovered universe. Nervous, I didn’t know whether to look away, or take the risk of losing myself in that universe. So you kissed me. Remember that? You probably don’t, because it never happened. I wish it did. If I ever have control over the world, I’ll make it happen, among many other things. I know why you hate me, I wasn’t born yesterday. But you don’t really have the right to hold any opinions on me. You heard I did this? You heard I did that? Oh no! I’ve been exposed! Guess I’ll have to go crawl in a hole and feel sorry for myself, like I’m supposed to. Piss off. Whether anything you heard is true or not, if it IS, honey, you don’t know the story behind it. You heard I killed my cousin? Guess what, he didn’t even die when I ‘murdered’ him. He’s still living and breathing at this very moment. He’s probably with his fat cat in his smelly apartment, watching some weight loss program on TV. OKAY? He’s doing just fine! And to be quite honest, he deserved even worse than he got.

You and I, see we’re supposed to be together. That’s how it was planned, since the beginning of time. I got some sort of message a long time ago. It has to happen, or everything will turn to shit! The building blocks will all come crashing down on us, everything will be completely wrong. We need to follow the plan, whether we want to or not.

If you end up reading this, I know how you’ll react. You’re probably going to try to get another restraining order on me, (which by the way, will not stop me, so why don’t you save yourself the trouble) and you’re going to bring up that time when I carved your name into my skin with merely my very own fingernails, and how I grabbed your arm so firmly in the hallway, your musk rubbing off of you and onto me, as I dragged you to the other side of the school. You were extremely willful and squirmy, it made everything so difficult! You caused me to fail my attempt at carving my name into your forearm, just as I had done to myself with yours. You were like a blank canvas, ready to be painted. We could be connected, forever attached by a bond that can never be broken. Unfortunately, my mission was unsuccessful, and it’s your fault :)

 

Much love,

-Missy

 

Missy is by far the most twisted girl I’ve ever met. I hate to admit it, but sometimes I find myself crawling out of my skin just thinking about her and everything she’s done. Her warm breath pounding down my neck as her hoarse voice whispers in my ear, speaking some of the most disturbing words I’ve ever heard escape from a person’s throat. Things you hear in the movies from former serial killers. I even got a restraining order on her a year ago, me being stupid enough to think that would keep her away. Waste of effort and money. She’s like a parasite. The weird thing is, even though I hate her, there’s a part of me that just wants to know what goes on in her head. What causes her to be the way she is? She was probably just born crazy. Does SHE know she’s crazy?

“Missy! Missy! You know you’re crazy, right?”

“Am I really crazy, or are you just brainwashed?”

“Exactly!”

“Stop talking to me,” yeah, it’d go something like that.

Maybe she went through some insane trauma as a kid- or maybe someone tried experimenting on her and failed. Maybe she was a cocaine baby? Nah. That’s ridiculous. But not impossible. Everyone at school calls her; “Maniacal Missy,” I mean, was that really the best they could come up with? I remember one rainy day, she somehow managed to sneak into the main office and got on the loudspeaker. It was kind of amusing, especially since you could hear our principal in the background grunting and struggling to keep her under control as she recited some disturbing content aloud to the entire school. She was suspended later that day, figures. Missy is the students source of entertainment. It’s pathetic if you think about it. Our lives are really that bland that we turn to observe someone else’s. Her life may not be boring, but it can’t be all fun and games.

 

Hello, good morning, how are you.

Hello, good morning, how are you.

Hello, good morning, how are you.

These are the phrases you will hear at your local shops, from your doctors, hairdressers, cashiers, people you’re meeting for the first time, almost anyone at one point or another. Human brains have been turned into scripts and influenced from the media. We have every response, every facial expression, every tone of voice built into our heads and split into categories of when to say this, or when to do that, all according to what or who we are responding to, and what they said or did, and of course, how they said or did it. It is an extremely confusing cycle. My one and only friend Fran, she died a few years ago, but still talks to me. She says I am a narcissist for my ideas and beliefs. I say “No! You’re just crazy!” but then I remember, I’m talking to a dead person. Anyways, how’s your home life going? Hmm? Tell me about it. Your cat died? Oh gosh I’m so sorry! Your grandmother is in the hospital? Oh, I’ll pray for her.

I awaken each morning joyful about the decreasing number of days before I get to feel your presence again. Although I am not looking forward to school, I have other things to be excited for. And I hope you know, you’re why I get out of bed every single day, you’re why I feel the sensation of the rough carpet scraping against the bottoms of my dry feet each morning as I make my way to the toilet. You’ve become my reason. Everyone has a reason. Sometimes, they never really understand what their reason is. But I’m one of the lucky ones. Because I know for a fact that you, you’re mine.

I have yet to make up my mind about whether I will ever give you this stack of letters. Maybe if you just take the time to read these you’ll want to be with me, and this is the only way I can really talk to you. I almost keep forgetting how much you hate me. But, do you really? Or, is it just an act? Hmm? I bet you have lovely nightmares about me, you just never told anybody. I bet you wake up to find your sheets clinging on to your sweaty skin. I bet as you’re reading this you have a confused expression on your face. Your eyebrows are joining in the middle of your forehead. Now, you begin to open your mouth. You shake your head in denial and decide to keep reading so you can get this over with. I know you hate to read. I wonder how long it will take before I’ve completely consumed you. I can only imagine the rush of adrenaline zooming around bouncing off the walls inside my body  when I first spot your shadow. And that exquisite little scar that’s always looming right above your left eyebrow. I love that scar. I’ve always wanted to know how you got it. Tell me one day.  

 

I shouldn’t be awake right now. It’s 4:35 am. In two hours my obnoxious alarm is going to start blasting into my ears, disrupting any sort of sleep or silence that I have left. Hopefully I’ll fall asleep while I’m writing this. I can feel my body overflowing with anxiety; I’m exhausted, but too restless. I really hope Missy doesn’t pull anything or cause any scenes tomorrow.

Goodnight.

 

Tomorrow, tomorrow I will see you and hopefully give you all these letters. Don’t run away from me, much love,

Goodnight. :)

Grade
11

     The smell starts to linger on your clothes even after you come home and put them through a few cycles in the wash– tumble dry, just like it says to on the tags tucked away in the inseams. And that smell, it bothers you, because the only way you really know how to get rid of it is to stop talking to Caroline. You like her; you’ve known each other since you’ve been in diapers, and tolerating that God awful smell seems like a small price to pay. She can make you break into laughter just by twisting her delicate features into a silly face that just doesn’t seem to fit her, since she’s got a pretty thoughtful look about her most of the time.

     But it’s hard to keep all of that in mind when her words are swallowed up by that cloying scent. You can almost see it, wafting around her in the same way that ink or paint feathers away when a drop of it falls into water, kind of like tentacles that reach desperately out towards her. You’ve given up on trying to get them away from people for a while now, but because it’s Caroline, you’ve been pushing them aside when you see them. The tentacles always seem to jolt in annoyance. They ease away for a bit, but you know that they won’t leave forever.

     You’re sitting outside with her, cutting class because c’mon, it’s June and school ends in a week and you have to loosen up a little, Caroline tells you. You’re leaning against the brick wall near the back entrance, feeling your skin prickle every time a janitor or groundskeeper walks by, but nobody says anything. Caroline’s not sitting normally; she doesn’t get why people have chosen an upright position to be the go-to. She’s lying on the ground with her legs propped up against the wall, staring up at the sky, watching planes pass by and trying to guess the stories of the passengers that she can’t see.

     “Seat 15C. She’s stuck in the middle seat, but that’s okay, because she’s on her way home to see her husband, so being sandwiched between a few strangers is the last thing on her mind. She got that promotion a few years ago, but it meant that they’d be sending her abroad to China to handle the marketing branch there, so this is her first time back in the States in a while. And she’s excited,” Caroline looks at you out of the corner of her eye, “because she’s making it back in time to celebrate the five year marriage anniversary, and she has all of these things planned. What do you think is waiting for her?”

     “Well,” you say, tilting your head back and feeling the brick wall dig into your neck. You close your eyes for a split second, trying to imagine Passenger 15C, a thin woman with a habit of fiddling with the ring on her finger. “Her husband, he’s a nice guy and all, but a little bit wishy-washy, always struggling with commitment. And being away has made her gloss over all of his faults, it’s tinged all of her memories with nostalgia so they seem a little bit sweeter than they actually were. She’s got a fancy dinner reserved, at the restaurant where they had their first date, but little does she know that when she gets home, she’s going to find him tangled up with another woman on a couch that’s unfamiliar, ‘cause he bought it while she was gone, and she looks around and realizes that nothing looks the same anymore and–”

     Caroline cuts you off. “That’s twisted,” she half smiles, “but I guess I should’ve expected that from you, huh?”

     “Things like that happen. You’re just a serial sugar-coater.”

     “I can think of worse things to be,” she retorts, and you can’t help but laugh because yes, there are so many worse things to be, and you’re glad that Caroline is as different from you as she is. And it’s in that split second that you think that when the smell gets so startlingly strong that you rear away from her. It’s such a sudden movement that you fall backwards against the brick, hitting your head, hard. It’s funny, you didn’t even realize that you were leaning towards her in the first place.

     “Are you okay?” Terror flashes across Caroline’s face when you reach up to the back of your head, and your hand comes away dripping with blood. “Hey, what happened? You okay?” She props herself up on her elbows, reaching out to you. You try not to flinch away– that smell, it both nauseates and worries you, and you should be the one asking her if she’s okay.

     In a flash, you remember the first time that you smelled that smell. It was back in the first grade and Caroline was there with you, even then. She was climbing the slide during recess, instead of going down it. She had asked you to slide down while she went up, so the two of you ended up in a pile of limbs somewhere along the middle. And it was probably around the fifteenth time that you were doing this when Caroline stopped, and squealed at you to come, hurry and come, because look at that little baby squirrel over there, don’t you see it, it’s on the lowest branch of that tree over there, and isn’t it just adorable.

     Caroline had insisted on going closer, and she had grabbed your hands that were still a little bit grubby from digging into the dirt earlier to drag you closer. It was then, as you neared that little squirrel, that you smelled something sickly sweet, like fermenting apples. You had looked around curiously, but you couldn’t see anything until you noticed thin, nearly transparent tendrils that you could trace back to the little squirrel. “Caroline–” you had started to say, because something was wrong, something was off, but she was too busy tiptoeing closer and closer.

     She was just a few feet away, reaching out with an outstretched finger, and the smell had grown stronger and stronger until, in a disconcerting instant, in a flurry of feathers, the squirrel was plucked from the ground. As a hawk carried the squirrel away, its talons dug into soft flesh, and tufts of fur and drops of blood rained down onto Caroline’s horrified face. But you hardly noticed, because you realized, in a moment of alarm, that the smell was fading away as the hawk rose higher and higher into the sky.

     Caroline had run over to you, sobbing, and you had plucked a piece of fluffy white fur out of her golden-streaked hair, but your mind was churning. You had smelled that eerie smell, you had known that something was wrong, before that something wrong had ever even happened. And that smell would haunt you for the next ten years. It appeared around your next door neighbor the day before he suffered a heart attack, your family friend minutes before he left a house party a little bit too tipsy, and your grandmother the night before she passed away.

     Caroline is standing over you right now, cupping the back of your neck and dabbing at the blood with a wadded up napkin she finds in her pocket. That smell is all over her. You suck in a sharp breath, and Caroline pulls her hands away. “Did that hurt? I’m sorry. Are you okay?” You’re okay, you know you will be, you just don’t know about her, and there’s a lump in your throat that is too hard to swallow.

     “I want to fix that story,” you tell her, looking back up at the sky. The plane is all but gone, leaving behind nothing but a cloudy trail.

     She humors you, the way she always does, choosing to temporarily forget about the gash on your neck and instead plopping down next to you. The two of you stare at the heavens, and you turn slightly so that you can see her uplifted face out of the corner of your eye. “Passenger 15C,” you take a deep breath. “She’s been through it all. She struggled being so far away from home, thrown into a country all by herself, but it’s made her stronger.”

     Caroline hums with approval, and while she’s not looking, you flick one of the tendrils away from her wrist, praying that they’ll go away forever. “It’s been a while since she’s seen her husband, so she’s not quite sure what’ll happen. Or, I guess, I’m not really sure what’ll happen,” you say slowly. “But she’s boarded the plane anyway, a little nervous to return after so long. And she finds herself next to another lady who’s going to her son’s wedding, and the two of them end up talking. And you end up realizing that every single person on that plane has a place to be, a set of arms to come home to, and every single one of them is hoping to get home safely.”

     The school bell rings, and the double doors open as students pour out of the building. Caroline hops up. “I forgot. I have to watch Brady tonight,” she says, gathering her things. “Mom and Dad are going out for dinner.” She laughs, reaches out and squeezes your hand. “That was a better end to your story, you know.” Then, in a flash, she’s gone, because Caroline is a whirlwind wherever she goes, running towards the parking lot. She bumps into a few friends on the way, carrying the scent away with her, and you watch her as she gets smaller and smaller in the distance.

     You feel sick to your stomach. You hope she’ll get home safely too.

Grade
10

When I first saw her, it was like someone had captured a piece of art. Her hair was outlined by a halo of the afternoon sunlight. She appeared delicate, like a seed that a light breeze would send tumbling, a great contrast to the solid trunk on bench seat next to her. Hands moving deftly, her attention stayed solely focused on her work. There was no sign that she had heard me approaching; she had not looked up once as I had drawn myself closer to her table.

 

Only when I stood above her did she speak, mumbling as if she did not want to startle the leaves. “Just a minute, I’ll be with you in a moment.” Her words rang with such solidarity that I wondered where she thought she was now. I heeded her form of a greeting and waited, curious as to what task demanded her undivided attention.

 

Her workbench may have once been a part of a resting area on a trail that stretched miles and has long since been abandoned to be reclaimed by the wilderness that it once was. Someone once thought that the forest would need to welcome visitor and wanders, but very few people were willing to walk the paths for miles to reach the breathtaking scenes that few knew existed. The only attraction for those who live here was the river, down at end of the mountain trail. It had been the tentative destination of my bored wandering before the girl at the table caught my eye.

 

She seemed to blend seamlessly into the surrounding nature as if she was made there. With her back to the trail, she sat looking out over the treetops below. I could see a sprinkling of the river through the trees. It was not quite blue but had enough of a contrast to look like a crack in the sea of the usual green. The season made it seem like the cool gusts had caused the tips of the highest leaves to catch on fire. More than twice as far as the river the trees broke again, this time giving way to fields

 

There were trinkets, all sorted by a seemingly random system, forming an arch starting to her left and continuing to the far side of the table. Nothing was larger than a penny, and each piece was a work of art itself. Skeleton keys that could fit only a fairy door were lined up by their shade of gold or silver finish, and thin wire wrapped into outlines of many shapes such as fish and trees. A natural rainbow as wide and twice the length of my palm of flowers, mostly roses, sat directly in front of her work area. Tiny glass bottles filled with even smaller crystals were dispersed throughout, but there was a cluster of empty vials towards the end of the arch.

 

Within the reach of her other nimble hand were sheets and strips of paper. The variety ranged from weighty pulp with flowers pressed into them to sheer slivers of crinkled crèpe. Paper gave way to bobbin upon bobbin of lace, some still attached to the thread used to make them.

 

The materials were matched with a solid working area that was cluttered with bits and pieces from the selection. It was shaped like a landscape picture frame, only with two rectangular compartments on all sides but her own. All of them were open, the small latches lolling back against the doors. One side held matching gold-filigree handle scissor and plier, while another held a watercolor palette in one and a selection of brushes in the other. The long side opposite her had a hollow for the stem of the calligraphy pen I saw among the clutter. The compartments that flanked it had groves and depressions for nibs and jars of jewel-tone inks.

 

“Alright, there's the last touch.” She put the object of her devotion down and looked up at me. “Hello, nice to meet you. Is there anything I can help you with, or were you just curious?”

 

“Just curious. What were you just making?”

 

“I’m making the landscape, but I think I’m done. There is nothing else I can do to it. Do you think it’s too much.” She gestured to the canvas fitted in the middle of her work area.

 

The painting, if it could be called that, perfectly captured the view we had from the overlook in a burst of texture. Crystals made up the brighter green areas of the foliage, but the dark paint base could still be seen through the lighter transparent colors. Burning tips of the trees were represented by roses in warm tones and were slightly raised off the page. The river was overlapping strips of paper that varied from blues to browns with hints of jades, and the edges of the paper were covered by some of the hanging branches.

 

“That is amazing, but why not paint the landscape instead? If you can make it with these pieces, surely you could recreate it with a more practical material choice,” I inquired about her medium.

 

“There are plenty of people that paint better than I ever will. Everyone has something unique about them, I am just one of the lucky ones that found what I should do with mine. There is someone in the world that wants what I can make, and I’m the only person in the world that has combined these materials in this combination to portray this scene. I love this life, even though I struggle to find one of the few that will take my art. This is how I make my living.”

 

She thrust a business card towards me. It was forest green and riddled with embellishments much like her painting. There were tiny ribbons of gold vellum across each corner, with delicate black script across the narrow strips. In the center lay raised gold words, “The Craftsman” with more minuscule letters underneath. Tiny black swirls fell from the tails of the letters on each end and some formed stems for gold paper roses the size of a water drop.

 

“Amazing, the writing is so tiny,” I said as I leaned in to take a closer look. “Can it even be read?”

 

“Here, take it.” She directed me to hold the card, and then she turned back around towards her table. Just a moment later she produced a magnifying glass that matched her other gold tools and handed it to me. It felt cool and light in my hand, as just the lens was considerably smaller than my palm.

 

The smaller text was an unorthodox description of her occupation: I create the world, not for efficiency, but how I know to make the world I see.  

 

I still have the card. She had every other piece packed into her trunk within minutes of deciding her painting was finished, and then she told me there was no space for the card. Someday, I will use it to find her and show her what I have done. My creations are not as unique as the ones she showed me that day, but I live to stand out from the rest in the way that I want. It does not matter if I am right, just to be heard is enough. She inspired me to use more than what another would use to paint the same picture. We all have our own pallet.

 

So, when I see her again, I will ask if I can commission a card of my own. How it looks will be up to her, as it is how she makes her living. All I know is that my gold script will say: I describe the world with words used uncommonly, and I used them to describe the world as only I see.

 

Grade
11

As Zack and Jordan emerged from the cramped car, they were met with a breeze of frigid air. Roaming down the nearest path, they trekked on for 5 minutes until desperately needing a break.

“Aw... I forgot to pack my phone charger,” whined Jordan, out of breath, as he dug through his backpack.

“There’s no use for a phone charger out here anyway,” countered Zack, unconcerned, “what are you gonna do, plug it into a rock? You should have charged your phone before we came.”

Jordan scoffed at that and continued moving down the trail.

As they walked, Zach looked around the trial and couldn’t help but think the setting seemed somehow familiar to him. Though he didn’t remember ever being here before. How weird, he thought. He felt uncomfortable in the open area, like someone was watching him- or worse- following him.

“It’s getting late, we should set up camp somewhere,” said Zack. The sky had indeed changed color in the time it took the boys to find their desired camping location. Surrounding the area are patches of dry bushes and a dusty covering over everything. They set up their old tent under a rocky overhang which leads into an ominous black cave. There's a leaky pipe that seems to come from underneath a pile of rocks; a dark trail of fetid seepage spills out of it, trailing onto Zack’s shoes.

“Disgusting,” muttered Zack with a grimace, while attempting to wipe his shoe clean on a rock.

“This place is amazing,” marveled Jordan in awe. His attention drifted down to a flower which seemed out of place in the dry area. “Ooooh, It’s a peony!” exclaimed Jordan, “They usually never grow under these conditions; this must be magical ground.” Jordan was a rosarian; his eyes practically shined when talking about flowers.

“Not so much a magical place as supposedly haunted. Ghost sightings and even disappearances have been reported in this very spot!” Zack was substantially more interested in ghosts than flowers, and took amusement in the fact that his friend wasn’t.

Crawling into the small tent, Jordan and Zack arranged their blankets next to each other and pulled some food out of their bags. They planned to wait until it was completely dark outside before venturing on.

“Chips for dinner,” said Jordan thoughtfully, “my mom wouldn’t be happy with me.”

“Well, she would be even less happy if she knew where we’re sleeping tonight,” responded Zack with a smirk.

“What if we get kidnapped or lost or killed by a ghost? No one would even know where to look for us.”

“I guess we just have to hope for the best then,” mumbled Zack as they drifted off to sleep in the eerie silence.

The stars were shining fiercely as it approached midnight; complete silence encompassed the dark. A guttural growl came from deep inside the cave.

Zack’s eyelids sprung open immediately.

“Did you hear that?” whispered Zack reaching out to shake Jordan awake, however, as he reached out, his hand came to rest on an empty blanket. Feeling blindly around the tent, Zack found his flashlight and turned it on; Jordan wasn’t there. Maybe he went on a walk without me, thought Zack, shivering slightly.

Stumbling out of the tent, Zack retrieved the flashlight from his pocket.

(Staying in that place makes you lose your mind and anyone exposed to the air suffers hallucinations. An arm like the friend’s on the side of the trail.)

Running toward a small hill, Zack stopped abruptly to focus his vision in the darkness. He could have sworn he saw a figure standing on the other side of the rocks a second ago. He called out, but was afraid of making too loud a noise in the soundless dark. Zack searched around with the beam of his flashlight but there was nothing different in his surroundings. All at once, he noticed an amass of blankets covering the ground that hadn’t been there before. How did all of these get here? he wondered urgently.

The sand to the right of him started to move, spinning slowly in a circle but steadily grew faster. Something was coming out of the middle of the sand; a familiar head appeared. Jordan rose casually out of the sand, using his now-visible arms to emerge. Just as he was halfway out of the sand, Jordan froze unexpectedly. His finger bent back slowly until two dull pops sent his head crashing into the ground writhing and crying out in pain.

Picking his sand covered head up from the earth, he attempted to claw his way out of the hole he was stuck in. Another scream of pain escaped Jordan’s lips. A bone chilling scream, though nothing appeared to be wrong. Then Zack saw it; something was moving in Jordan’s eye. A black beetle crawled out of Jordan’s eye, down his cheek, and into his open mouth, silencing his agonizing cry.

Before Zack had time to process, he heard a whisper; his name. Someone whispered his name but he couldn’t see anything.

Zack’s flashlight started to flicker out as he began to panic. He spun around the dying beam desperately and whispered his friend’s name for help. A startling breeze came in and knocked him off his feet. He rolled toward the edge of a cliff and was nearing a 20 foot drop to rocks below. His foot caught in the crack of two rocks and lodged deep; he was stuck. Tugging uselessly on his foot, he attempted to escape from the rock. He heard what sounded like footsteps running towards him, but no one was there.

The rocks seemed to be moving closer together as he screamed out in pain. He saw stars; not the ones in the sky, but just behind his vision, brought on by pain. The bones in his toes slowly crumpled. Zack’s entire foot was now encompassed in rock; the rock grows up his foot past his ankle and slowly makes its way up his knee. Urgently shouting for help as he watched trickles of blood run down his ankle, he fell back on the ground. Struggling to keep his eyes open, he succumbed to his injury.

Opening his eyes, he saw the other ghost in all its entirety, clearer than ever before. Zack recognised the ghost immediately as Jordan. He asked the ghost about the reason for its death and how he got to be there, but the ghost didn’t remember. Zack took a step closer to get a better look.

The ghost- Jordan- slowly remembered something and pointed a shaky finger at him. “YOU,” shouted the ghost, “It was you who killed me. I remember everything now.” Zack must have unlocked memories of the night when the ghost died when he returned to the spot.

Zack wore an expression of complete shock on his face, “I... I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’ve never seen you before. Maybe you have me confused with someone else.” His voice was rough from the lack of water.

The ghost, with a grimace of disgust and anger on his face, replied, “I KNOW IT WAS YOU. I REMEMBER YOUR FACE.”

Zack smirked, finally letting his surprised facade drop. “Fine, yes,” he said moving closer to the ghost, “I killed you. But that was only because I had no other choice. You were in my way-”

Zack opened his eyes and sat up abruptly. It was still nighttime and his foot was still stuck in the rock, but there was no sign of the blood that encompassed him before. Tugging lightly on his leg, he bent down to untie his shoe and slipped it off. Finally freed from the rock, he stood up and began to think about what really happened in his dream. Maybe he was going crazy. He had imagined that the ghost was Jordan; that couldn’t have actually happened... right?

Zack buried his face in his hands and sighed. There is no way this is real. Nothing bad is happening. Everything will be fine. The lies seemed to comfort him for a moment, so he stood there alone thinking about anything but his present situation. He heard heavy footfalls approaching and turned his head to the sound, though his eyes were cast to the ground. Zack wasn’t sure he wanted to know what was coming next. His gaze trailed upward and he noticed a familiar dust-covered pair of shoes. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes trailed up the body of his best friend. Jordan’s eyes were closed and he looked relaxed.

Swallowing his fear, Zack took a step closer to this pale figure who had once been so full of life. His best friend was going to do amazing things, but that seemed impossible now. He studied his face once more before turning on his heel and running back to camp.

Stepping through the tent, Zack saw Jordan bundled in his blanket as if nothing happened. Confused, Zack ripped the blanket off and threw it across the tent, revealing a scene so horrific he was forced to turn away. Blood was even on the ceiling, smeared there as if someone used the tent to wipe their hands. Zack looked down at his own hands and gasped; they were covered in blood. He took a deep breath and turned around, expecting an answer, but saw his friend was nowhere in sight. Two empty blankets side by side just as he had left the tent earlier that night.

“Now do you see what you did to me?” said Jordan.

Zack reeled around in the direction of that voice; glancing ahead of him, only a pale outline of his friend was visible. Taking a closer look, he realized why his friend seemed weary.

“I brought you out here,” said Jordan, “to show you what could happen to me if your dreams become reality.” Becoming ever-so-slightly more translucent by the second, Jordan communicated his final thoughts to his former best friend in a simple, “Goodbye.”

Grade
8

It was the fourth quarter we were down by ten with five minutes to go in the national championship. The score was 62 to 72. I was single handedly keeping my team in the game with 40 points and 8 assists. I had been the best player in highschool and now I was the best player in college. We needed to get a stop on this drive. As I watch my man slowly come up the floor with the ball I knew it was just me and him, he called for an iso. As he moved to dribble I saw my opportunity, I reached in grabbed the ball and started racing up the floor I hit the free throw line take a step and jump just as I feel someone tug my jersey I throw the ball up as I fall to the floor. I hear the whistle that sends me back to the free throw line.

I can hear the roar of the crowd but I only care about one person my mother the one who sacrificed so much for me to be here today, and as I look up and spot her in the crowd she nods and has a look of such determination you would think she was taking the free throw. The ref threw me the ball I took a deep breath two dribbles shot all net, the next one up all net.

I ran back up the court ready to get back on defense. I turned around just in time to see my man sprinting up the court with the ball and start to pull up from just behind the three point line. I turn and start to jump and miss the ball, I start to turn well i still in the air and I see the ball miss. I land on his foot and feel my foot turn and roll, I immediately scream out in pain. At first I thought I had broken it but as the trainer came running over, I knew I wanted to stay in the game.

“I want to stay in the game”, I said as soon as he kneeled down next to me.

“okay Bryce he said let's justs get you taped up and we will get you right back in”

“okay but it better be quick”

I slowly stand up testing the ankle I feel sturdy enough but with a fair amount of pain. I grimace in pain as I walk off but quickly look over my shoulder to where my mother sits in the stands. I see her sitting there with a look of severe displeasure. I quickly give her a thumbs up and sit down on the bench. That's when I notice the hush that has gone through the building. We quickly take off my shoe and sock and I see that my foot has swelled up a lot. I can tell from the look on the trainers face it is not good.

“Are you sure you want to go back in” he asks

“Absolutely”

“You know I wouldn't let any other player in I hope you understand”

“I do”

“Alright let's get you taped up”

We have cut the lead down to five when i'm ready to come back in and sitting under the scorers table.the score is 67 to 72 with 2 minutes to go. I tried to run back on the court but instead the pain got to me and I had to slowly jog others might call it a limp back onto the floor. I replaced blake a season long benchwarmer. I looked over at the bench and the look on my face must have been worrying because coach immediately called a time out. As I walked over to the huddle coach immediately pulled me side.

“Are you sure that you can continue”

“Without a doubt”

Someone tosses me a gatorade and I head back in. My ankle begins to throb again as I walk around waiting for the ball to get inbounded. We roll the ball in and I pick it up around half court the score is still 72-67 them with less than a minute to go. My defender up on me as soon as I pass half and with my ankle I cant really cut very hard I pass to Parker in the corner who passes it back, I see him start to run towards Billy who is setting a screen on the three point line. I pass before he comes off the screen he catches and buries the three.

I begin running back down pumping my fists I can hear the crowd getting louder and louder. I know something is wrong as soon as I begin to fall, as I fall my ankle rolls again I scream. As i'm rolling around in agony my senses dull I can barely feel my teammates and coaches gather around me trying to console me,but then I think about the dream that I am living right now that many would die to have. The dream that i'm not just living for me for my family and everyone back home who have guided me encouraged me and helped me along my journey to the top.

Then i'm back teammates gathered around me my brothers reaching their hands to help me up knowing that I will not abandon them knowing me better than I know myself sometimes. I reach my hands up they help me up my coaches know im staying in. 45 seconds remaining we know we have to lock up. The horn sounds and they begin to bring the ball up the court I know my man will take the last shot. I let him stand at half dribbling the ball, then with ten seconds left on the shot clock he begins to dribble he goes left then right then left again he has me by a step as he takes it to the basket. He takes on step then two as he gins to go up I leap with him not quite as high as normal but just enough to alter the shot enough that it clangs off the back of the rim, we grab the rebound and I immediately call for the ball.

I start to dribble up the there is 20 seconds left I stand at half and just dribble until their is 10 seconds left. I see the screen coming and I begin to run the screen hits my man perfectly 3 seconds I pull up 2 my man is gone left in the dust 1 I release the ball. The crowd goes quiet I hear the buzzer go off then I hear the swish of the ball going through the net. I see my teammates rush me, we lay their in a pile on the floor screaming out of pure joy. I decide through all the pain struggle blood sweat and tears it was all worth it. I look up to see my mom tears watering her eyes. What a game I tell myself.

 

Grade
7

There I was, at my 8th grade school dance. I was in the bathroom straightening my tie because I was about to dance with the most beautiful girl in the whole school, Wendy Dutton. Her hair was a crimson red, she had light blue eyes that looked like the sky. She’s also really brave. She was the perfect person. 
I finish fixing up my tie and start talking to myself in the mirror. “Alright Max, don’t screw this up. She will never forgive you, you’ll be a social outcast forever if you mess up this dance.” I was ready. I step out the bathroom and quickly scamper over to the auditorium. There I was, in front of the door sweating like a pig. In there was the girl of my dreams, all my friends, all my enemies, and probably 2 teachers. I slowly put my hands on the door when I hear. 
“Hey! Max!” A voice says. It scared me so bad, I almost passed out. 
“Justin!” I say in a angry voice. “You almost killed me!” 
“My bad, I just wanted to say good luck and don’t screw up.” 
“Thanks I guess” Justin walked away. Justin is my best friend. His hair was dyed light blue and his eyes were green. He’d beat you in any video game possible.
“Alright, go time” I pushed the door open and step inside. The music was blasting. I start looking around the room for Wendy when I run into another one of my friends. 
    “Hey Max! Have you found Wendy?”
“Nope, still looking. Have you seen her?”
“No. Have you seen Justin?”
“He was just outside. He scared me so bad I almost passed out.” We both laugh.
“I’m going to find him. I’ve got a question for him” 
“See you later Lewis!” Lewis waves back at me and walks away. Lewis is a good friend of mine. Our love for superheroes is how we met. His hair is brown and his eyes are hazel. Lots of girls like him, even though he’s gay. 
Suddenly, I feel two soft hands touch my shoulders and twist me around. It was Wendy. 
“Wendy! I was just looking for you!” I say awkwardly 
“I was too. I had to keep asking my friends if they knew where you were.” 
“Me too.” I feel like I’m already messing up. 
“A romantic song should come on next. We can dance to that.” She says smiling while touching my arm.
“Y-Yes.” I stutter. She grabbed me by the arm and pulls me through the crowd of people. Her hand felt so nice in mine. It was like a dream. We were going to dance and It was going to be amazing. We get to the middle of the room and there’s nobody else there. (No one dances in the middle. It’s just too embarrassing)
“You ready?”
“Ready when you are” 
“3…2…1… Go.” The song changes to “Someone Like You” by Adele 
 We begin dancing. Everyone around us is watching and commenting. Out the corner of my eye I see Lewis asking Justin a question. Justin nods his head yes then they hug. I knew Lewis was gay, but why Justin? I wonder what Lewis likes about him.
This dance is going so well! I’m surprised I haven’t messed up yet! Lewis and Justin run to the middle and begin dancing too. A huge gasp goes through the crowd. Lewis and Justin just smile at each other and keep dancing. “I’ve never really danced before” Lewis says nervously 
“You’ll do great! I’ve danced with tons of people. You are the first boy though.” Justin says. They both laugh. 
“Huh. I didn’t know that Justin was gay.” Wendy said 
“I probably should’ve told you when you liked him.”
“Yeah! Probably! Do you even know how awkward that was?” Wendy starts imitating Justin. “I know you like me or whatever, but I’m very gay and don’t give a crap about you. Buh Bye!” We both start laughing.
“How do you do that accent? It sounded just like Justin,” I say laughing.
“Just listen to people very closely,” Wendy says shrugging. The song was almost over now, but more people were dancing in the middle! 
“I think we started something,” I say looking around the middle of the dance floor.
“Good! More people having fun means more dances! We can call this revolution the-” 
“DANCE DANCE REVOLUTION!!” I say interrupting Wendy. 
“You are too silly for this world,” Wendy says giggling. The song ends and everyone starts clapping for me and Wendy. 
“Why are people clapping?” I say confused
“They obviously enjoyed the performance,” Wendy says. She runs and slides onto the auditorium floor, she takes a bow. 
“Thank you, thank you all! I couldn’t have done this wonderful performance without the help from my amazing dance partner, Max Devi Martin!” Wendy says enthusiastically. I knew she was going to call me out like that. I was really shy and she was the complete opposite of shy. She wanted to remove me from my comfort zone. Sometimes it worked, other times… well… 
“Uh, Hi everyone,” I say walking up next to Wendy. Wendy grabbed my arm and pulled herself up. 
“Max and I are dating which means nobody else can date him. I’m very overprotective with Max,” 
“It’s true,” I say to the crowd. The crowd laughs. 
“We are the ultimate couple!” 
“Also true,” 
“WAIT ONE SECOND!” A voice comes from the crowd. A blob that looks like two people come running through the crowd. 
“Summer Rae,” Wendy says squinting
“Wendy Dutton,” Summer says squinting “Now I finally get to see Max’s new girlfriend. Quite the downgrade Maxy-Poo.” Summer had blond hair and green eyes. She was, without a doubt, THE most popular girl in school. She dated the five most popular boys after breaking up with me. I think she wanted to make me jealous but I don’t know.
“Don’t call me that,” I say “Hi Eli.” 
“Hey Max,” Eli says. “Eli was the second most popular boy in school. His hair and eyes were dark brown. He was the tallest kid in school. This rivalry between Summer and Wendy has been going on ever since Summer dumped me and Wendy smack talked her for it. Me and Eli were friends, even though Wendy and Summer don’t want us to be. 
“Max and I are a great couple,” Wendy says 
“No you aren’t. Nobody thinks you’re cool, popular, or funny like me!” Summer raises her hands in the air. “I said, like me,” Summer snaps and everyone starts laughing. 
“We may not be the hottest or most popular couple in the school, but at least we can make each other laugh without snapping! You don’t even like Eli, You only use him for popularity! You don’t have any real friends, they only hang out so they can be part of “Summer’s little posse.” ” Wendy screams. The whole room goes silent. Summer starts crying and runs away. Wendy starts crying too and runs in the opposite direction. Now the dance is over and everyone leaves the auditorium. I run after Wendy, trying not to run into anyone on the way. I arrive at the girls bathroom and put my ear next to the door. I heard crying. 
“Hey, I know you’re sad about the dance but you can talk to me,” I say softly. The crying stopped and someone starts walking towards the door, it opens slowly and Summer is standing there. 
“M- Max? What are you doing here?” Summer says. 
“I thought Wendy was in there.” 
“Wouldn’t you rather talk to me?” 
“Well… I... “ I stuttered. I didn’t wanna say no. 
“That’s what I thought. Who needs that red-headed loser? Not you.” 
“Hey. Wendy is great. Don’t be a jerk.”
“You think I’m the jerk?” 
“Yes! Everything that Wendy said about you is true! You only want popularity! After I broke up with you, you’ve been a huge jer-” 
“Shhh,” Summer stops me. “You know there’s one thing you can’t deny Maxy-Poo.” Summer kisses me. “I’ve always been the better kisser.” Summer walked away. I stared at her as she turned down the hallway. The next day comes and I’m talking on the phone with Justin on the way to school.
“Then, she kissed me!”
“Really? That’s insane! But knowing Summer, it’s probably just for attention.”
“I hope she doesn’t tell Wendy. I didn’t mean to kiss her, it wasn’t on the mouth, just the cheek! She just kissed me!
“I’ll tell you anything I hear from her. I’m at school already and her dad’s car just pulled up. She probably has a lot to say.” 
“Okay. See you later,” I hang up. I heard whispering while I was talking to Justin.  I think the first graders were listening to me, but I didn’t care. I finally arrive at school and get off the bus. Justin was standing right outside the school, waving at me. 
“Hey,” I said 
“Hi.”
“So, got any news about Summer?” 
“No, she’s not here. Her car dropped off her brother.” 
“Strange, do you know if Wendy is here?” 
“I haven’t seen her yet, she’s not usually late.” 
“I’ll call her during lunch if she still doesn’t come” 
“Okay. See ya,” Then the bell rang. Everyone quickly flooded into the school, nobody wanted to be late. The hallways are packed to the point where it’s difficult to walk. I was looking for Wendy while going through the big crowd. I didn’t see her. I finally get to my locker after almost being run over by the sporty kids. I tossed my stuff in and sighed. 
“God, what happened? How come people have to like other people?” I say to myself while walking down the hall. “It always ends bad for someone.”
“Could be worst,” Mr. Kirby says, interrupting my conversation with myself. 
“Oh, ummm, hi Mr. Kirby. I was just getting to class.” 
“Good, now come on in, science is about to begin. “It’s gonna be a long class,” I stepped into the classroom and saw Justin sitting in a chair, saving a seat for me. 
“Okay class, let’s begin.” 
After class was over, It was lunch time.
I get in the line to wait for food. Unlike most schools, we have good food. Today is Friday so we have pizza. You always wanted to get first in line for pizza. Justin and I were always in line together, but today he brought a lunch and is hanging out with Lewis. Wendy still isn’t here. Eli is with Summer. It was just me. I need more friends. Maybe I’ll run for class president.  
“Hey! Max!” Justin says from the distance.
“Hey. How are you? It feels like I haven’t seen you all day.”
“I’m good. I was just hanging out with Lewis. He’s really funny.” 
“Funnier than me?” 
“You know you’re funnier” 
“Then why won’t you hang out with me?”
“I wanna hang out with Lewis. It’s not that I don’t like you anymore, It’s just-” 
“Whatever dude, Just hang out with your boyfriend,”
“I- I’m sorry man. I didn’t think you’d get so worked up about it
“I’m not worked up!” I yell. Everyone in the lunchroom looks at me. Justin runs away. 
“NEXT!” the lunch lady shouts. I sat by myself for the rest of lunch. Later that day I saw Eli walking down the hall. 
“Hey Eli.” I say reaching out for a cool bro handshake.
“Hey, I gotta question for you.” Eli denies my handshake
“Okay. What is it?” 
“Why did you kiss Summer?” 
I went completely silent. 
“You know we are dating? I like her dude.” 
“She kissed me. It wasn’t my fault.” 
“You didn’t pull back though. You liked it. I saw the whole thing and told your little girlfriend too,” Eli says smirking. 
“What? You told Wendy? It was an accident!” 
“That’s not what it seemed like to me,” Eli walks away. 
“Jerk,” I whisper under my breath. School was over now. I had to talk to Wendy. I jumped onto the bus, pulled my phone out and began texting her. 
“Hey.” 
“What do you want?”

“I’m sorry, the story that Eli told you isn’t true.”

You didn’t kiss Summer?”

“Summer kissed me!” 
What do you mean?”

“I was in the middle of telling her that she’s terrible, then she kissed me! On the cheek.”

“Eli lied to me. I thought he was cool.”

“Me too.” 
“I’m sorry for being so mean.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”

“We gotta get them back”
“Agreed.” 
“We’ll talk about details tomorrow. Bye Max”
“See ya”

This is it. Today I was getting revenge on Summer. We had the perfect plan. First, convince Summer to run for class president. Second, once she wins, she’ll completely embarrass herself trying to be a good president. Third, laugh at her forever. I realize that this plan could go wrong in plenty of ways but it could go right so that’s good. Wendy was at school today and apologized to Summer.
“Hey, Summer.” Summer didn’t listen. “I just wanna say sorry for what I said at the dance. I didn’t mean it.” Summer still doesn’t listen. “I also wanna say that class president election is happening soon, you should enter. Summer glances at Wendy and smiles. 
“I will,” Summer says. 
The next day was the election and Summer won of course. Summer was going to start tomorrow. Our plan was falling into place. The next day Summer was going into presidency. The celebration was happening in the auditorium in front of the whole school. Summer was going to be embarrassed and it was gonna be perfect! 
“And welcome your new class president, Summer Rae!” The whole auditorium claps. 
“Miss Summer, what is the first thing that you will do as president?” Summer walks up to the pedestal. 
“I will extend recess!” Everyone claps and cheers
“Miss Summer, you can’t do that,” the principle says in a shaky voice.
“What do you mean I can’t do that? I’m the class president!” 
“Class president can’t change the rules of the school.” Everyone stares at Summer. Summer starts sweating. 
“Here it comes,” Wendy says.
“WHAT! THAT’S THE ONLY REASON I BECAME CLASS PRESIDENT! THIS IS AN OUTRAGE!” People in the crowd begin laughing. 
“STOP LAUGHING AT ME! AS CLASS PRESIDENT I DEMAND YOU TO STOP!” Everyone is laughing now, even the principal. 
“I DON’T EVEN WANNA BE STUPID CLASS PRESIDENT ANYWAY!” Summer runs off the stage. 
The principal steps up to the podium. 
“Well, I think we’ve all had a good laugh today. But we still need a class president.” Wendy raises her hand.
“Wendy Dut-“ 
“Actually, I’m raising my hand for Max Martin!” Wendy looks at me and nudged my shoulder. 
“Do it.”
“Really?” 
“Yes” I slowly walk up on the stage. 
Mr. Martin. What is your first act as president?” I stared into the crowd. They stared back eagerly. I nodded at Wendy, she nodded back. We knew we won. 

Grade
7

Love

Side Effects may include:

Hallucinations, and the feeling of fear

 

     

 

Introduction

 

The day Reggie met Emerson was a day she’d never forget, but never really remember. It wasn’t a romantic story, nor was it majestic, not even really unique. At least she thought so. In her eyes, they had been working in the same wing at the Lorrell Park Memorial Mall in downtown Houston, and something between them just…clicked.

However, the day Emerson met Reggie was a completely different story. He had seen her across the food court at the Lorrell Park Memorial Mall in downtown Houston, and she seemed strange. Not strange as in odd or, different, but strange as in strangely familiar. He recognized her. He recognized her curves, her features, and most importantly her personality. Oh, how he loved her personality. He talked with her for what felt like an eternity, but was only their overlapping lunch break that was only about ten minutes, and after he went back to work, he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

 

One Year Later

 

    The time was now. Today was the day. It was now or never. Em needed to meet Reggie’s parents. He needed to. He wasn’t usually one for big dinners, and meeting family formally, or really anything conventional, but this meant a lot to her. He straightened his tie, and brushed some stray dog hair off of his white and gold suit jacket from his freshman year talent show, in which he tap danced his way off the dignity express with his old girlfriend, Simone. He had vowed never to wear it again, it was ridiculous, but it was the only tux he had, and in Reggie’s email, she said that her family was “fancy” and “a tuxedo was a sign of commitment”.

    She drove down the narrow dirt road that led to his house, and prayed to whatever she believed in that he wouldn’t screw this up. Ugh, please let this go well. When she pulled into his driveway, she beeped, and he came rushing out the door. He got in the car, and immediately she had questions

    “What is that suit? Why does it have tails? The one thing i said to avoid was tails! Why is it gold? And why in the name of Jesus is your tie made of metallic gold pleather???” She bombarded him with questions, and didn’t care that he didn’t have time to answer.

    “Well, this suit is from freshman year, it has tails because it is a dance costume, tails were not in the email, it is gold because gold matched the vegas themed music, and the tie is majestic. Plus, I like the outfit. It adds character.”

    “Fine. El Fine. Bueno. But don’t tell my parents where it’s from. They will not be pleased.” They laughed. That’s how their relationship worked. She, Reggie, was a worrier, and he, Emerson Sam Brown, had just the amount of well timed sarcastic humor that set her straight.

 

They arrived at the restaurant, and Reggie waved out the window of the car as they out. Her mother was beautiful, her father was composed, she was gorgeous, but he, on the other hand, looked like he was a circus showman.

“Hello, Emerson,” Reggie’s mom approached him, and grabbed his wrist, “I’m Evalyn.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Em said, he was trying his best to remember the script he was supposed to follow.

“Hello” Reggie’s dad surprised him. He came up from the back, and gave him a slap right in between his shoulder blades. He lurched forward, and just missed Evalyn’s left shoulder. Reggie stood behind them, smiling at the situation, but annoyed at the fact that it wasn’t going well. She loved Emerson so much, she wanted her parents to love him too. All of a sudden, her brain betrayed her. She burst at the seams. She let out a laugh that surprised everyone, including herself. Em turned toward her and giggled a little. Her mom joined in, and soon her dad followed suit. They stumbled into the restaurant overcome with joy, and sat down.

We had moved passed our laughing fits, and had retreated to small talk. Reggie and Emerson were sitting on  one side of the table, and Evalyn and Mark were on the other. Em wrapped his arm around Reggie and she shrank into his side as the waiter approached them.  

“Anything to drink?” he asked.

“Waters for everyone for now,” Mark said. Emerson wanted to protest, but he was quickly silenced by an elbow in his side. They resumed their conversations, which were mostly segregated by the table. Mark and Evalyn spoke softly about salaries, while Em and Reggie whispered where they were going to go after dinner.

Once all was said and done, and the food delightfully digested, Emerson excused himself to go to the bathroom. Instead, when he got out of sight of the table, he exited the restaurant, and pulled the car up to the door. He texted Reggie to come out, and within a minute or two, she was sitting in the passenger seat of his old volkswagen bug. He kissed her, she blushed, and they pulled out of the restaurant parking lot.

“Where are we going?” Reggie giggled.

“Wherever you want, Buttercup” He said. The nickname was only used on occasion, when something special was happening. It originated from the movie The Princess Bride, which was their guilty pleasure movie.

“Can we go to Paris?”

“As you wish”

“Oh Westley, how I love you”

 

*14 hours on a plane, and a frustrating cab landed them in a last minute booking in Paris, France.*

    “Good morning, my lovely” Emerson said as Reggie waltzed out of the room in green pajamas. They were flowy and short, and the only thing she knew about them was that she loved them. She didn’t quite know where they came from, yet she couldn’t remember a time without them. They were kind of ugly, but in a quirky way. She’d had them since she was around three.

“Good morning, my prince.”  He walked up behind her, and grabbed her waist.

“Go get dressed,” He whispered in her ear as they swayed to the music of the morning in the city. “I have a surprise for you.” And just like that, Reggie was in her room getting dressed, and wondering what he could be doing. She walked out the door and he presented her with a big book. It was black with white stripes and to the front was taped two eiffel tower tickets.

“Babe! It’s so cute!” she gasped, “Tower tickets? When can we go?”

“We can leave whenever, they’re for the whole week. We can go as many times as we want.”

“Let’s go!” Reggie yelled, “sorry. That was loud..” she hooked her thumbs into her overall straps, and rocked onto the heels of her boots

They jumped out of the cab and Reggie raced toward the tower as fast as she could. Emerson grabbed her bag out of the trunk. They went through security like a breeze, and soon enough their ears were popping on the elevator to the top.

Reggie jumped off the elevator and dug in her purse for some euros to work the telescopes. She looked out at Paris and saw the designs of the streets, and the buildings. The sight started to get blurry, so she shoved in another coin. She looked up at the sky. The clouds were racing by, at an alarming rate. She felt the ground shaking under her feet. A flock of birds blocked her view all around on the scope. Looking around, the birds covered the city. They flew up the middle of the tower and swarmed around everyone. She remembered Emerson.

“EM!” She called out, “EM!! WHERE ARE YOU?!” She heard no response. Birds were coming from all sides. She needed to get down. She walked and struggled to find the elevator. On her way down, her sight cleared and she could see. It was dark, like a whole shadow had blocked out the sun. She grabbed her phone, texted Em.

[R] em, where r u???

[E] I’m at the top where r u?

[R] by the taxis… hon im scared

[E] why, is someone bothering you?

[R] DO YOU NOT SEE THIS?!?!?!? they’re everywhere!

[E] who is everywhere?

[R] The birds Em, the birds!

[E] im coming down. something’s wrong

[R] i told yoiwjargh

[E] ARE YOU OK!?

[R] They knocked me off my feet, their crawling all over me, im covered… Bye Em.

 

Em reached her. She was sprawled out on the ground, shaking. He shook her, but didn’t succeed in getting her awake. Someone had called 911, and before he could make sense of it all, paramedics were wrenching her from his hands.

 

*One day Later*

Reggie’s parents flew down to Paris. They were not pleased with the surprise trip, and traveled over 1000 miles to find their daughter. They arrived in the hotel room, and Emerson looked up at them from the blue armchair in the corner, and there was pain, fear and worry, all built up in his mind, and showing on his tear streaked face. Evalyn burst into tears when she saw Reggie. Her eyes were closed, but she could see them darting back and forth under her eyelids. Mark wrapped her in his arms, and she quivered in them, feeling safe, but also so vulnerable. A doctor walked in, and lightly tapped her on the shoulder.

“I’m so sorry to have to do this, but we need you out of the room so that we can run tests. I’m Dr. Hernandez, and I work with cases like…” He looked down at his clipboard, “Regina’s.”

“It’s Reggie” Emerson cut in.

“What?”

“She goes by Reggie”

“Oh, well in that case, if you would kindly clear the room, I’ll get Reggie prepped, and we’ll get started with the testing.” They filed out of the room, each lingering at the door a little longer than the last.

After about an hour of sitting in the visitor’s chairs in the lobby, Dr. Hernandez came around the corner with a strange look on his face. The expression he wore was hard to read, but it didn’t take a genius to tell that it wasn’t good. Mark stood up, and soon Evalyn followed. Em, on the other hand, stayed in his seat, to scared to move.

“So… What’s wrong with her?” Evalyn asked.

“She, she has a rare type of depression. It spikes up in stressful, or even just over exciting situations, and can cause panic attacks, hallucinations, and anxiety. It’s easy to overcome, but if she keeps doing overwhelming things like this, some other serious consequences might come up.” Emerson felt a mixed wave of shock and guilt wash over him. This was his fault. He was the one to come up with the stupid idea, and he was the one who went through with it.

“Can I go in?” He asked, filled with hope.

“Of course” Dr. Hernandez said. Em walked past him with a blank look on his face. He went to the room #224, and gently pushed on the door. She lay there on the bed, significantly more calm than before, a towel draped over her forehead. He knelt down beside her. And set his head on her torso. He felt her breathing in and out, in and out, and his mind stopped whirring for a split second. He was taken back to before this all began. The day at the Lorrell Park Memorial Mall in downtown Houston, the day they first met. He started to shake. Tears fell from his eyes unexpectedly, and he was silent, gasping for air. He felt like he was drowning, but not in the way that he could pull himself out of. Falling deeper and deeper into the trap. He thought about the topic at lunch that fateful day, which happened to by a debate on bubble tea, and the rung of a ladder appeared in his head. He thought of what he ate, soft pretzel bites, and another came out of the grey fog. He remembered the highlights of her outfit, and a whole section descended from the abyss. He climbed his way up the ladder until all the tears left in his body were happy, and the thoughts he had left were only of the time they had spent together. The times that they had spent sitting on the couch rewatching Princess Bride for the 1000th time, or the times that they had spent chatting at work, and when they were on the plane. Before the time came to an end, and it came crashing down on them like the last grain of sand in an hourglass. He shriveled up in his memories, and found comfort in her. He found comfort in the warmth of the sun, and he felt strangely content.

 

The End