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Grade
7

I always wanted to be that one girl. That one girl who always looked put together, had amazing fashion, was kind, funny, popular, cool and perfect. That one girl who didn’t care about what others thought, that one girl who seemed so strong and fierce. That one girl whose parents always loved her, always made time for her, wrote her little notes in her lunchbox for her to read. That one girl who had countless friendships and seemed to never feel one bit sad.
But little did I know, that the one girl wouldn’t stay that one girl. It all started with her mother, who suffered from cancer, then later passed away. I didn’t know that that one girl was afraid to share her sexuality with others, or that she wasn’t comfortable in her skin. I didn’t know that she was suicidal. I didn’t know that she was depressed. I didn’t know that she cried when people weren’t looking, or she was paying to her God to end this misery. I didn’t know that she wasn’t that girl.

But what didn’t know was that the one girl who I wished to be, wished to be me.

Grade
12

We stepped out of the ocean onto the shore. Lava barely hardened crunched under our toes and turned our feet black. Then we kissed trees with our palms and our tears, weeping salt from our skin and licking it from each other’s lips. Then came the blossoming, progeny, something we can only understand through exploration. They say we were so eager to return to that from which we came that we broke tree branches with our fists and sewed them together with blood to make ships. They said we needed to conquer, to return, to proliferate. But they don’t know the whole story. We stayed on dry earth, and went further inland, learning how to feel grass whistle between our toes and uprooting it to know where it comes from. But we, we are from the sea, we are people of basalt and black beaches and brimstone and saline sweat. To find our roots you could pull and pull but you would pull the other side of the earth through itself and only then hold our roots in your hand: the world.

Grade
9

Surrounded by the smell of fresh bread, I watched the dancing colors of the evening sky from the kitchen windows. My whole workspace was illuminated by the rays of the setting sun. I was interrupted from my admiring by pattering feet. Hazel, head full of chocolate curls, ran towards me.

 

She said, breathlessly, “I don’t know what’s wrong with Mama”.

 

I bolted, my stomach churning with emotion. Hazel tailed me, struggling to keep up.

 

Alynna’s room’s door was wide open. Surrounded by children’s toys and books, a  single bed stood. The setting sun pierced the curtained window. It’s light illuminated the figure lying in bed, Hazel’s mother.

 

Alynna was pale, her face drawn;  her dark hair golden in the setting sun.

 

I touched her forehead. My stomach dropped.

 

“You’re burning up!” I exclaimed, horrified.

 

Alynna took our hands, kissing them consecutively.

 

“I love----” she uttered, taking a last, rasping breath.

 

Hazel and I reached for her, the three of us locked in a last embrace.

 

The stench of burning bread filled the air. My ears started ringing and my mouth tasted sour. The sun finally set completely, and enveloped us in a dark unforgiving cocoon.

 

Grade
7

        I always wanted to be that one girl. That one girl who always looked put together, had amazing fashion, was kind, funny, popular, cool and perfect. That one girl who didn’t care about what others thought, that one girl who seemed so strong and fierce. That one girl whose parents always loved her, always made time for her, wrote her little notes in her lunchbox for her to read. That one girl who had countless friendships and seemed to never feel one bit sad.

         But little did I know, that the one girl wouldn’t stay that one girl. It all started with her mother, who suffered from cancer, then later passed away. I didn’t know that that one girl was afraid to share her sexuality with others, or that she wasn’t comfortable in her skin. I didn’t know that she was suicidal. I didn’t know that she was depressed. I didn’t know that she cried when people weren’t looking, or she was paying to her God to end this misery. I didn’t know that she wasn’t that girl.

 

        But what I didn’t know was that the one girl who wished to be, wished to be me.

Grade
7

I knew it was a bad idea as soon as we let her off of her leash. Our little Yorkshire Terrier, Yali, prancing around in the wet blades of grass. She always loved the outdoors, as much as I did. The cool breeze on your face, the trees, creating a canopy of protection above you, and the most precious canine alive, walking beside you. Nothing ever felt more perfect.
I always loved nature until, that is, the day I learned what it can take from you. I’ll never be able to feel the same way I always had when I was outside ever again. Never. Not without her by my side. I’ll never forgive myself for letting her off of her leash that day. I’ll never be able to get the image of her blood-stained carcass out of my mind. It’s been exactly 3 years now since the coyote had it’s feast, and even now, I still see Yali in every dog I lay eyes on. I never will forget the way she smiled and gazed up at me with those soft, black eyes. No dog can ever replace her, and no dog ever will.

Grade
6

Once upon a time, there was a little blue crayon who had a taste for adventure. One day he decided he was bored of being in his cardboard box home, so he jumped out to face adventure. Unfortunately, before he could do anything, an arm knocked him off the table, and he flew across the room and out an open door, into the backyard. He stood up wondering where he was and realized he was in a perilous jungle (the grass). He trekked across the “jungle” into the house and saw a gigantic beast (the dog) hurtling toward him. Thinking fast, he hopped on the “beast” and rode till he got to a cliff (the counter). He got to a bubbling waterfall (the sink). He decided to swing around it, so he found a sturdy rope (string) and swung to the other side. He saw the table where his house was and jumped on the “beast” and rode to the table. He jumped off expecting to fall, but instead a hand grabbed and set him back in the box. “I never want to get out of this box unless I really have to!” and he never did.

Grade
11

Jen woke to Kayla crying. George was still snoring away. Jen forced herself out of bed and stumbled down the hallway, drunk on sleep.

Jen arrived in the nursery as her daughter’s cries grew louder. “Shh, I’m here!” She ran to where the 6-month-old was screaming in the crib. Kayla’s face was covered in sweat and tears, but she smiled when she saw Mama.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart? Bad dream?”

Kayla cooed, reaching out. Jen picked her up, wrapping her in blankets. They sat in the rocking chair, Jen humming softly. Motherhood wasn’t easy, but Jen never tired of the smiles and babbles that lit up her world. Jen had never loved or needed anyone this much. She hugged Kayla closer, dozing off.

 

George startled awake to a cold bed. His heart pounded, knowing that it still wasn’t safe for Jen to be alone. His mind raced with scenarios as he searched for her. He found her sitting in the nursery, fast asleep, clutching a pile of blankets. Kayla’s blankets. Jen was smiling for the first time in months. George’s heart broke as he covered his wife’s emaciated limbs with the blankets and gave her a soft, tearful kiss.

Grade
7

It was farm owner Pete that wired Treavor to do the long overdue job. There are tales about the beast. Some are myths, terrifying children, but plenty are true. It’s said that he’s 400 pounds and 8ft. tall. People fear him like mice fear cats. Stories say he kills your livestock in seconds. The day Treavor was hired to hunt the bear was stormy. Lightning continuously shot out. Pete begged Treavor to pause his hunt, but he was eager, didn’t listen, and loaded the chopper. Within seconds of flying Treavor spotted the beast. He tried the best he could, but the weather made it hard to control the helicopter. He soon set his sights on the bear. From there on everything moved fast and as if straight from a movie. The shot fired, then the bullet ricochet off the lightning, hitting the helicopter. Now damaged, it was losing altitude. As the helicopter fell the beast jumped and plucked Treavor from his seat, but before the bear could attack, the helicopter smashed them both. It’s said you can still see where their electrified bodies imprinted the forest floor. As for Pete, there isn’t a night he doesn’t replay that dreaded sight.

Grade
7

November twelfth, 2015, the second-worst day of my life. The day my parents sat me and my brother down. “Who died this time?” I ask. They told us they wanted to tell us something, and they never do that. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing any of my grandparents.

“No one died this time, sweetie,” my mom said. “However, we wanted to tell you we are getting a divorce.”

I had never knew what that word meant, I had never heard it. And, after a year, if you told me to define it without having learned it november twelfth, I would have said it meant the world would crumble. And I never knew the world could crumble.

Just like that, I my life reached the top of the hill. Time could only go forward, so my life headed downhill. I wasn't a happy, carefree child. Quite soon enough, my mom got a job and moved miles away. I went every-other week with her. I had no friends to talk to about it, no friends at all. But it did get better. And, after a while, there were bumps in the road, and some went up.

 

Grade
7

Will they miss me? Will they feel sad at all? Will they even care? Will they even remember?

Mom and I were playing a card game called speed, it was the only game that could distract us from the crushing reality of our situation. The distraction of whether or not she’ll have a six to play on top of the seven and then let me play my five and win. Usually, it works to distract me from anything that’s annoying the crap out of me. This time I think it won’t work there is just to much going on. I’m trying to put a smile on my face. Secretly acting like I’m sneezing but I’m just wiping off my tear so she thinks I’m so strong not even crying during the worst thing ever. I think my mom might now that I’m hiding that I’m sad I mean I have “sneezed” almost twelve times in the past half hour.  I promise myself I would not cry in front of anyone and I will stay strong.