Family

Imagine being lost in the New York City train station with people you don’t know. Imagine a four-year-old kid in the middle of the stairway, scared and confused. Imagine a crowd all around you, and there’s nowhere to go. Who was that four-year-old kid that got lost in the train station? I was that four-year-old, and I was alone and afraid. I went to preschool in Chinatown. I always came home at around six o’clock, so my grandma would pick me up. “Let’s go and buy some fruits!” my grandma would say every time she picked me up early. “Look, Grandma! Look at all the fruits we bought!” I said one day. “Yes, we bought so many fruits! Now let’s get home and put them away,” my grandma said when we got to the train station. Since there were so many bags of fruits, it was hard for my grandma to see if I was beside her or not. Ding-dong! The doors of the train started to close. I looked up and I didn’t see my grandma. I looked from one side to another. Every way I turned were more people, but none of them were my grandma. People pushed and shoved me as they passed by I thought I would get bruises soon. I got real scared and slumped to the floor. My heart started pounding and my hands started shaking. I got up and started calling for my grandma. “Yes, we bought so many fruits! Now let’s get home and put them away” “Grandma!! Where are you?” I yelled. I spoke in all three Chinese languages, but there was no sign of my grandma. I started to feel the urge to throw up, but I continued to call. “Have you seen my grandma? Have you seen my grandma!?” I asked many people, but all of them said, “No,” or shook their heads. I started to cry, and the noise filled up the station. I was hoping my grandma would show up, and I would be by her side again. “What is that racket?” the train conductor said. “Huh . . . better open the doors.” As the doors opened, I turned around. I saw a familiar figure inside. She had loads of bags. I peered inside and the bags were full of fruits. I looked up at the person. That person was my grandma! She looked at her side and saw no one beside her. She looked up again, shocked to see me outside in tears. I ran inside and held her tight. I started to wipe my tears from my eyes. “Where were you?” my grandma asked. “I was outside!” I answered. “I thought you were beside me.” As I held my grandma, I didn’t feel fear anymore. I stopped shaking and my heart stopped pounding. All I felt was relief, and I felt safe when my grandma held me. I was glad I got through that, and I was happy to be beside my grandma once again. “See, Grandma, that was exactly what happened,” I said as I ended the story. “That’s quite a story,” my grandma said, “but I don’t remember that happening when you were four. I think you were three, no four, no three. Hmm .” “But that’s the way I remember it,” I said, while my grandma and I entered the subway to go to 34th Street. “Well, I remember it differently. But it’s a little hard to remember. I mean, look at you now. You’re eleven years old now.” She looked at me and smiled. I smiled back. “So what do you remember?” I asked. “I remember you were very little, yes, we were coming home from school. There was a crowd in the elevator down on our apartment lobby. You went in and I didn’t. Suddenly, the doors closed and you went up,” my grandma answered. “Oh I remember, I went up, you went down, up, down. Then we finally met,” I said and giggled. “But I remember that, and I remember getting lost in the subway too,” I said. “Maybe you dreamt it,” my grandma answered. “But I know it happened,” I replied. “Maybe you remember it, but I don’t,” my grandma answered, and started to laugh. “Maybe it was when I went to the laundromat and you were asleep at home. You woke up and couldn’t find me. Heh heh . . . you were so small and you opened the big door!” my grandma said. “Really? I don’t remember that,” I said. “Heh heh. You see, you don’t remember and I do. You were way too young anyway,” my grandma replied. “I think it was 34th Street. I saw red poles, and Grand Avenue has blue poles. You know, when I got lost,” I said. “Maybe,” my grandma said. Ding-dong! The doors opened in front of 34th Street. My grandma and I stepped outside. I looked at the train before we got on the escalator. “Maybe it was a dream . . . but it felt so real,” I said to myself. I got on the escalator and it started to go up. That day when I was four was the first time I got scared so badly I looked at my grandma, and felt safe. I looked back one last time, and smiled. Maybe it was a dream, but it sure gave me a story to tell. Amy Xu, 11New York, New York Chloe Hamilton, 12Bakersfield, California

Eliza opened her bedroom door a crack and looked through the small slit into the tan-carpeted hallway. It was deserted. Eliza breathed a sigh of relief. She stuck her head out and listened for any noises that would signify that she was not the only person up. To the left, her little sister Emily’s room was silent. Eliza cocked her head the other way to listen for her parents. Nothing. She was the only person awake in the whole house. That made sense, though, because it was five-thirty in the morning. The house was dark; only one long beam of moonlight lit the staircase, leaving the rest of the house in pure and complete darkness. Eliza left her room, a light jacket slung over her shoulder, fully dressed in summer shorts and her T-shirt with the blue-and-white stripes. She crept across the black hallway, clutching at her jacket. Feeling her pocket, she made sure that the note she had written yesterday was still there. Just to check it and make sure it was the right one, she took it out for a second and the words Dear Mom, Pop, and Emily shone across the top for a moment in the moonlight, but then she quickly folded it up again and roughly shoved it back into her pocket. Eliza started down the carpeted stairs, holding tightly to the banister as she went. Emily watched through band-aided fingers and her slightly open door as Eliza crept through the silent house. The second- to-last stair creaked as she stepped on it, and the banister shook as she tried to take all of her weight off of the steps. You miscounted, Emily thought gleefully, giggling softly to herself. I never step on the creaky stair. This, of course, was not true. Emily had made a horrible racket as she had come up the stairs just the night before, stepping on that creaky step, and the third one down, which was much, much worse, but of course, her five-year-old mind had already forgotten that. You miscounted, Emily thought gleefully Eliza’s head whipped around, hearing Emily’s giggle. “Emily!” she hissed, but Emily didn’t catch the harshness in her tone. “Hi, Liza,” she whispered, though it was so loud that Eliza hurried back up the stairs, counting right this time so that none of the steps creaked and complained, and hurried into her little sister’s room so they could talk quietly and not wake up their parents. “Shh, Emmy,” she said, gently now. “Don’t want to wake Mom and Pop.” “Pop.” Emily giggled at Eliza’s name for her father. To Emily he was always Daddy “Pop,” she said again. “Pop. Pop. Poppoppoppoppop.” “Emily!” Eliza hurriedly covered her sister’s mouth with her hand. Emily strained to see Eliza’s painted nails, which were a deep red right now, and had always fascinated the little girl. “You’ve got to be quiet, ‘K?” Eliza looked into her little sister’s brown eyes and repeated her demand. “Quiet.” Emily nodded and Eliza’s hand retreated from her face. “Where was you goin’, Liza?” Emily asked immediately, but, true to her word, she was very quiet this time. Eliza looked at her little sister. She thought about when she had been born. She thought about all the times that she had kept the whole family up all night with her relentless wails. She thought about how cute she had been as a toddler, and how much fun she was to play baby games with. And how annoying she was when she cried when she lost. And when she didn’t get just what she wanted right when she wanted it. Eliza thought about the green duffel bag that was hidden under the bushes by the mailbox. She thought about the red train tickets that were safely hidden away in the inside pocket. And she thought about the hulking black train that was waiting for her at the station across town. She thought about her little sister, and all of the times that she had wished that she was somewhere far, far away, and all of the good times that she would miss when she was gone. She thought about how her parents loved Emily more than they loved her, and then she remembered the fantastic birthday party they had thrown her when she turned thirteen. She thought about how Emily’s present had been a hug and a kiss, and how that had meant much, much more to her than all of her other presents combined. And she thought about Emily right now, standing there in front of her, waiting with bated breath for an answer from her favorite person in the entire world. “Where was I going?” Eliza repeated. “Yeah, Liza, where?” “Nowhere, Emmy, I’m staying right here.” Emily never questioned the answer that her sister gave. She leaned forward and hugged her tightly. “Good, Liza. That’s super good.” Eliza smiled and hugged her tightly back. Sarah Jick, 13Lexington, Massachusetts Sheri ParkRedwood City, California

I felt like my heart had been hit by a semi truck. I stared at my parents in stunned silence. They sat across from me; their anxious faces looked at me in hesitant anticipation. “What?” I choked out. My throat was tight and my stomach was in knots. “You can’t do that!” I said, tears beginning to fill my eyes. My dad leaned forward in his armchair and sympathetically put his hand on my knee. “Listen, Kate. Your mom and I have prayed about this for a long time and we believe this is what God is calling us to do.” I shook my head with a sob. “But I’m your kid! I’m your daughter!” “Kate,” my mom said, trying to reason with me, “it’s going to be OK.” I couldn’t believe it. Why do we have to adopt a little girl from Romania? Only ten minutes ago I asked them if I could get my ears pierced and they turn around and tell me I’m getting a sister. Talk about a bombshell! Let’s face it; I was an only child. I had always been my daddy’s little girl. I was always my mom’s closest friend. I didn’t want that to go away. Now I have to share it with someone else. Of course this was selfish. I was old enough to take this more maturely and calmly. Even if I was twelve, I didn’t like my carefree life to suddenly change so drastically like this. I bit my lip to keep it from trembling. A tear crept down my flushed cheek. Suddenly I realized she was looking at me “I’m sorry, honey,” my mom said to me with a sympathetic sigh. “We didn’t know you would take it so hard.” I forced myself to be more controlled and asked shakily, “When . . . when is she coming?” My dad stole a glance at my mom. “She’s coming next month. She is eight years old and her name is Anica.” “Her mother died when she was five and her father was a criminal,” my mom explained. “She lived with her aunt for one year. Then her older sister died of a serious illness. Anica was sent to an orphanage.” “She really had a hard life,” my dad said. “But hopefully she’s young enough to forget it.” “And since we all have dark features, she’ll fit right in!” my mom said, trying to lighten the atmosphere. “So you’ve already signed all the papers and stuff?” I asked. My dad looked straight at me and nodded. “It’s official.” *          *          * The day Anica arrived I had made the decision I wasn’t going to go down and meet her. From my upstairs window I watched our family minivan roll up the driveway I slipped behind the curtains as my parents got out of the car. After all the fuss I made I didn’t want to seem like I was curious. Anica jumped out. She stared around at the manicured lawns and the chalk scrawled all over the sidewalk. Suddenly I realized she was looking at me. Annoyed, I jerked the curtain in front of my face and went back to my book. Days passed. I was still hard and cold inside and I didn’t try to hide it. I very seldom talked to Anica and when I did, my words were cutting and sharp. Despite my dad and mom’s attempts to reason with me, I avoided her as much as I could. I didn’t want to admit to myself that I was being very immature and selfish. I didn’t want Anica. Period. My birthday finally arrived. I wasn’t going to have a party that year. We were just going to have a celebration at home. My parents tried to make it as nice as possible. Mom made my favorite meal. Dad played my favorite game with me. I got great presents, but I was surprised when I received nothing from Anica. My parents made no comment about it. That night, I was lying on my featherbed, reading a book I got from my dad earlier that day Suddenly, I heard a very soft knock on my closed door. “Come in!” I said, looking up. The door slowly opened and Anica came in, clutching something small in her hand. She was in her pajamas, holding her doll from Romania. “What is it?” I asked shortly. She quickly stepped forward and opened her hand. “This is for you,” she said timidly. I stared blankly at the simple gold band held in her cupped hand. I looked up at Anica. “What’s that?” She looked down at her old patched doll. “It was my sister’s,” she said after a pause. “She gave it to me before I was sent to my aunt’s. Jenica gave me the ring because she knew that we’d never see each other again. I didn’t believe her. I was sure that we would. And then . . . then I heard she died and . . . and . . .” Anica couldn’t finish. She began to cry and wiped her eyes with the head of her doll. The memory was too strong for her. I stared at her in disbelief. “Why are you giving it to me?” I asked, feeling suddenly ashamed that I hadn’t accepted this little girl who just wanted love and a big sister again. She hesitated and then said, “Because . . . because, even though you don’t talk to me very much, you somehow remind me of her. She was my closest friend. When she died, I didn’t want anyone to take her place. But then when I saw you . . .” She looked up at me with big, eager eyes and asked, “Can you take the place of Jenica?” I was speechless. Here I was, a thirteen-year-old who had rejected this little girl, and she wanted me, who had treated her terribly, to replace her . . . her only sister? I