It wasn’t the first shooting star I saw but it was the most special one Thousands of twinkling and glittering stars lit up the black night sky. It’s so beautiful, I thought as I gazed up at the sky. I wish I could stay here forever, but I couldn’t. Heather and I were slowly walking up the street towards my cottage. It was like we did every summer night after we said goodbye to our other friends, but tonight was different. The night was warm and still and I could hear crickets chirping and an owl hooting deep in the woods. The big fluorescent streetlights were faintly buzzing above us, helping to light our way. Our bare feet were padding softly on the pavement, and we were crying. Tears ran down my face, and I kept wiping them off. I must look like a wreck, I thought, because I had been crying all night. “Next summer will be here before we know it,” Heather sniffled. “Yeah,” I agreed, “but we have to go to school between now and then, which will make it seem way longer.” “We need to plan for summer 2011, because it will be epic!” Heather exclaimed. “Totally!” I grinned. We laughed a bit about our joke. It was because I told her the story about how when I was younger one winter my mom, my sister, and I were at a hotel with an outdoor heated swimming pool and a bunch of teenagers were out there. The teenagers kept yelling, “That was so epic!” Naturally, my sister and I would run out on the balcony, yell, “That was so epic!” and run back inside. Then in the sky a glowing light streaked by. It was a shooting star. We stopped talking and stood still. It seemed like the whole world held its breath. I smiled, it wasn’t the first shooting star I saw but it was the most special one. We wandered up to my cottage, then we stood there for a second looking at it. It looked so bright in the darkness, with all the light streaming out of the windows. I could still hear crickets chirping. My nose was stuffed and I was still crying a little bit. “That was pretty cool,” Heather finally said. “I guess that means next summer is going to be awesome,” I smiled. “Oh you know it,” Heather agreed. “Do you want to sit on the porch?” I asked. “No,” Heather replied, “the sidewalk is fine.” Heather and I sat down on the rough sidewalk, instead of the porch. This feels weird, I thought. Every night we sit on the porch and talk, not the sidewalk. We talked for a while and even laughed a little bit. It was time for Heather to go back to her cottage, and I wouldn’t see her again for a long time. I started to cry again. We both stood up from the sidewalk and brushed the dirt off our shorts. Heather and I hugged each other, and I could feel the tears sliding down my face again. “At least it wasn’t as sad after we saw the shooting star,” Heather sighed. “Yeah,” I nodded, “bye.” “Bye.” “I wish you could stay another week.” “Yeah, me too.” “But we’ll see each other soon.” “Yes, we will.” “Bye,” I said again. “Bye,” Heather said for the last time. Heather turned around, strode down the sidewalk. She looked back one last time and waved. I waved back. Then I stood there for a while watching her get smaller until I couldn’t see her because the big pine trees were covering her. I stood there for a little while longer. Then I sighed and started up the stairs. Tonight was sad, but it wasn’t terrible, I thought as I trudged into my cottage, and I was already excited about summer 2011. Elise Allen, 12Bloomfield Hills, Michigan Maya Keshav, 13Waterloo, Ontario, Canada
Friendship
Lilly of the South
It’s just, my family has been moving all over for as long as I can remember CHAPTER ONE: THE SOUTH POLE The plane seemed to be going ridiculously slow. I had a seat by the window and was looking out at the South Pole, also my new home. Both of my parents were considered brilliant scientists. I didn’t disagree. We were moving to the bottom of the world so they could study the earth’s changing climates. At fourteen, I shouldn’t complain, and believe me, I really tried not to. It’s just, my family has been moving all over for as long as I can remember. Before the South Pole, we lived in Australia. (They were studying heat and sun rays.) I loved Australia. What I would miss the most would be my friends Ophelia Jones and Percy Smith. They were both only children like me. Ophelia’s mom is a nurse, and her dad was a pilot, but he got kicked out for something, but Ophelia never told me what. Percy’s mom died when he was just a few hours old. His dad is really cool though. He’s a math whiz and a great photographer. I would miss them, a lot. The plane stuttered to a stop, made a strange blasting noise, but didn’t shatter into a million pieces like I had expected. The flight attendant ushered us out to the walkway and we entered the small (very small) airport. We looked around for a person holding a sign that read “Anderson.” My mom spotted it first. We approached the young woman holding the sign. She had on a black coat that went to her knees. Her blond hair was pulled back in a braid. And her face and eyes were kind and gentle. “Are you the Andersons?” she asked. “Yes,” my dad answered. “I’m Patrick; this is my wife, Karen, and my daughter, Lilly.” The woman smiled and said, “A pleasure to meet you. My name is Jasmine Lewis, my son Jeremy is around here somewhere.” My parents shook hands with her, and she led us to the door. A boy around my age with perfect brown hair and ocean-blue eyes caught up with us. “Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, this is my son, Jeremy,” Jasmine said. “Nice to meet you.” He shook hands with my parents and then with me. “Let me carry that for you.” He took my suitcase, and we walked through the ice and snow to find Mrs. Lewis’s snowmobiles. Once we found them, she threw Jeremy a pair of keys. Mrs. Lewis’s mobile had three seats, but Jeremy’s had only two seats. “Lilly, you can ride with Jeremy,” my mom instructed. Jeremy handed me a helmet, he put the keys in the ignition, and we took off through the snow. Mrs. Lewis was a few feet behind us with my mom nervously clutching her waist. I wasn’t scared, I was actually having fun. “You all right back there?” Jeremy called back to me. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I called back over the roaring of the snowmobiles. “We’re about to turn, hold on to me.” I didn’t hesitate to cling to his back as we turned a sharp corner, nearly missing a general store. “Show off!” Mrs. Lewis called to Jeremy. He laughed, and I did too. We soon came to a charming little cottage and parked the snowmobiles. “This one’s yours, ours is that one.” Jeremy pointed to a smaller cottage a little ways behind ours. We got off the bikes, and Jeremy grabbed my suitcase for me. Both of our jean legs were soaked, and I was freezing. “You OK?” Jeremy asked. “J-just c-cold,” I muttered. Jeremy left and returned with a green wool blanket, and he put it around my shoulders. “Thanks.” “No problem, my sister made it for a welcoming present for you.” “Lilly.” My mom appeared. “We’re going to go tour around town; do you and Jeremy want to stay here?” “Sure.” Jeremy read my mind. “OK, see you later then.” She left. “Would you like a tour?” Jeremy asked. “Sure.” And he showed me around. There were three bedrooms, one bathroom, a small kitchen, and a living room. In the kitchen were four chairs that surrounded a small table. There was a woodstove, an icebox, a counter, and four cupboards. He pulled out a small pan and set it on the stove. He took milk, cocoa powder, and powdered sugar. I sat down at the table and watched him make hot chocolate. “How long have you lived here?” I asked as he poured the milk in over the cocoa. “I think since I was three. We lived in Russia before here.” “Why did you live in Russia?” “I’m not really sure.” He raised an eyebrow. He took a ladle out of a drawer and poured the cocoa in mugs. I wrapped the blanket more tightly around me. He set a mug in front of me. I took a drink, and I could feel my legs warming up. It was delicious. “Where did you learn to cook?” I asked. He looked down at the floor. “My sister taught me.” “Was it the same sister who made this blanket?” “Yes.” “I would like to meet her.” He slammed his cup on the table, stood up, and walked toward the door. His action made me jump. “Where are you going?” I followed him. “I’ve got to go home,” he muttered as he pulled his coat on. “Why?” I asked. He walked over to me. “I just really think I should go.” His teeth were gritted together. I looked into his angry eyes. “OK, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him. I walked back to the kitchen, put a lid on the leftover hot chocolate, and dumped Jeremy’s in the sink. My parents came home later that night. My mom was carrying grocery bags and my dad was carrying a library bag full of
A Weekend with Isabella Hohenstaufen
We left the adults talking and took off running down the beach to the cottage I shaded my eyes against the Saturday morning sun, then snuck another peek at my watch. It was already ten o’clock, and Isabella Hohenstaufen had yet to appear. Every summer, for two weeks, my parents and I vacation at Carrie Ann Bay, where we own a beach house. This is the part of summer that is devoted to family time, when me, Mom, and Dad get to spend some quality time together. However, for one weekend, I get to invite a friend over. We stay in a congenial white cottage next door to the beach house, and for two days, we get to do whatever we want. Popcorn, movies, late nights, surfboarding, you name it. Usually, I take my best friend, Jessica, but she had moved to Kansas this spring, making it “highly impractical for her to come,” as Mom said. So this year, I invited Isabella. See, Isabella is my pen pal. My whole seventh-grade class had been assigned to someone from another school district. Most kids had stopped after two letters, but not me and Isabella. We’d been corresponding for about a year, and even though I’d never seen her face-to-face, I could tell she was the kind of person I would want to be around. Her letters were long and detailed, but not painfully so, and her stories were always entertaining, like the time she and her younger siblings tried making their own glue and ended up pasting their fingers together. But the best part was that she answered my letters almost immediately. Her favorite food was strawberry ice cream, and she liked to read books, like me. I felt I could tell her anything, things I didn’t even tell Jessica, because I knew Isabella wouldn’t laugh, at least not to my face, and she always had a kind word. So, this summer I thought Isabella would be the perfect choice for a cottage-mate. I squinted at the road, and my heart leaped in my chest. I saw a red minivan approaching the beach house. It stopped in the path, and a girl got out of the passenger’s side. She slung a red backpack on her shoulder and started walking quickly towards me. I waved energetically at her, and she waved back, even faster. Finally, when we came to the middle of the path, I got my first good look at my pen pal. She had curly blond hair and warm hazel eyes that laughed and sparkled. She was wearing denim shorts, a white T-shirt, and a vivacious, effervescent grin. “Hi,” I smiled, “I’m Crystal.” “Isabella,” said Isabella shyly. I heard the screen door bang shut, and my parents came out. “You must be Isabella!” bubbled Mom. “We’ve heard so much about you!” “Isabella, welcome,” said Dad, gripping my pen pal’s hand in a hearty handshake. “I’m Mr. Glassman, and this is Mrs. Glassman. Now, did your mom bring you?” “Y-yes,” stammered Isabella, obviously overwhelmed by all this attention. “She’s coming j-just now.” Sure enough, a woman who looked just like Isabella walked up behind her daughter. “Sorry we’re so late,” she said. “We got lost on the highway. The road really twists and turns, doesn’t it.” “Yes, especially if you’re not used to it,” said Mom. “I’m Paige.” “Amy.” Dad held out his hand. “And I’m Mark.” They then proceeded to talk about boring adult stuff, like where Isabella and I would be staying, when she would be picked up, etc., etc. I turned back to Isabella. “Wanna see the cottage?” “You bet,” said Isabella. “Hey, Mom, I’m going up to the cottage. See you Monday.” “OK, sweetheart,” said Mrs. Hohenstaufen. “I love you. Be good, now. I don’t want you getting into any mischief.” “Mom!” Isabella shot me a quick “can you believe her?” look. I shot her an “I know, my parents are the same way” look, and grinned. She grinned back. We left the adults talking and took off running down the beach to the cottage. * * * The cottage wasn’t much by Carrie Ann Bay standards, but it was just right to me. It had two rooms, a living room and a bathroom, a small television, a microwave, a pantry, a refrigerator, a couch, and a vase of seashells. I could tell that Isabella thought it was the best thing since sliced bread. She stared at everything open-mouthed, even peeking in the bathroom three times. “So, your parents let you stay here? With a friend? For a whole weekend?” “Yeah,” I said, “it’s pretty sweet.” “Sweet? It’s wonderful! I don’t even have my own bed. I have to share one with my sister, Casey. And she drools!” Isabella had never told me this in her letters. “I think you’re lucky to even have siblings. It gets kind of lonely being an only child.” Isabella shrugged. Then she grinned brightly. “So, can we go exploring? I’ve never been to Carrie Ann Bay.” “Sure. We can go boogie-boarding. You brought your swimsuit, right?” “Of course!” She unzipped her backpack, took out a blue one-piece, and threw her backpack near the door. It was clear that Isabella knew how to travel light, as her backpack seemed to float to the ground. “Great! You can get changed in the bathroom, and I’ll change out here.” As Isabella shut herself in the bathroom, I found myself smiling. Her exuberance was infectious. Even though it just started, I could tell this would be a great weekend. * * * “So what’d you think of the waves? Pretty awesome, huh?” I asked as Isabella and I made our way back to the cottage. We had been in the water all day and were tired and dripping wet. We had wrapped towels around ourselves, but that didn’t stop the chilly Carrie Ann Bay winds from creeping in and making us shiver. “Awesome doesn’t cover it!” said Isabella, laughing. “Only, I still have water
