The entire day during school all I could think about was going to Atlantic Grill My dad’s zebra hair was black with a few specks of white. It was his forty-first birthday. It seems that as each year passes, his hair gets more and more white. We were planning to celebrate his birthday with a special family dinner. We were going to a restaurant called Atlantic Grill. It was May 28, 2004, and the entire day during school all I could think about was going to Atlantic Grill with my parents and my brother. It is one of my favorite restaurants and I love their food. They make a homemade chocolate-chip cookie that is the best in the world! Dad came home from work a little early that day at 5:30. Then we were off on the dirty, gray sidewalks of New York City. It was a nice spring evening. The sun was peeking out from behind a building as it was lowering for sunset. It was warm outside, getting ready for summer. For once the streets were a little quieter than usual, but there sure were a ton of cars. Everybody was in cars because I noticed that there was major traffic on York Avenue. On the walk there I asked my mom, “What are you going to get for dinner?” “A salad,” she replied. “Dad, what are you going to get?” I asked. “The sushi, of course,” my dad responded. “What are you going to have, Danny?” my dad questioned. “I am going to get the grilled cheese. You know how I love Atlantic Grill’s grilled cheese. It is even better than yours, Mom,” I replied. When we got to the restaurant, I glanced around. The restaurant was packed with people at the tables and at the bar. We were hoping to sit outside because it was so noisy inside and it was a beautiful evening. Inside, there were TVs, paintings, phones ringing, people talking and music playing. There was the smell of smoke because the fresh food had just been put on the grill. Luckily, there was one open table outside for the four of us. The hostess sat us at the table and brought us menus. When the waitress raced over I anxiously asked, “Can I have a grilled cheese with french fries on the side?” “Sure, munchkin,” she replied because I was only six at the time. “What are you going to have tonight, ma’am?” she asked my mom with a little bit of a Southern accent. “I will have a Greek salad please,” my mom replied. “What about you?” she questioned as she turned to my dad. “I will have the sushi platter with a California roll,” my dad said. “What will the little one be having tonight?” she asked, motioning to my brother Dylan. “A New York strip steak,” my dad responded before my mom could answer. My brother was three years old and has had autism ever since he was born. His brain has trouble making sense of the world. Autism causes Dylan to experience life differently than other kids who can play around with their friends and talk about sports. He can’t talk because he has autism. He is trying to learn to talk and his teachers are working with him at school. He usually communicates using pictures and by shaking his head. Whenever we go to restaurants my parents will usually talk for him and tell the waitress or waiter what my brother Dylan wants to eat. Sometimes I get frustrated that Dylan can’t talk and because he is different. But I love him so much and keep hoping that he will get better and talk soon. I searched in my mom’s purse for her BlackBerry. I liked to play a game on it called Brick Breaker where there is a ball and a platform that you have to move around to get the ball to hit the bricks. Her purse was so unorganized with lots of papers shoved in and some of her belongings were creeping out. I smelled the fresh leather because the purse was brand new. When I rubbed my hand to the left it was smooth to the touch but to the right it was rough and bumpy. I liked the feel of rough and then smooth. It felt as if I was petting a cat or dog when it was smooth, but when it was rough it kind of felt like a papier-mache project I once made. I would always look through my mom’s purse for her BlackBerry when I was bored or waiting at a restaurant for our food to arrive. After what felt like an hour our food came. I saw the orange melted cheese and the steam coming from the french fries. There was a smoky smell filling the air and whetting my appetite. The smoke had a blast of heat. When I took my first bite it was hot, delicious and soaked in spicy ketchup. Then I turned my attention to Dylan. I saw his tan face, gray shirt, silver fork, and white napkin with red ketchup stains. I could smell his fruity shampoo that he used in the shower. I was staring at my brother’s steak. It looked like heaven. It was so juicy that it was dripping into his mouth like a leaky faucet. I could smell how good it tasted. I leaned over and put my fork right into his steak because I craved a taste of it. When I put a gigantic piece of steak in my mouth it was so juicy and delicious that I felt I was in a whole new world. I got so addicted to this great taste that I kept stuffing more of the steak in my mouth. Then all of a sudden my brother started crying hysterically. I realized he had every right to be upset. I had just eaten almost a third of his dinner right in front of
Sports
Backyard Battlefield
Cold wind made me shiver as I stopped to observe the beauty of my backyard As I slid open the door a valley of fun stood before me. The bright sun sliced through the cold air, leaving patches of bright grass on the backyard’s surface. With no one around this was the perfect time to have fun at my favorite place. I looked back through the glass door, making sure not a single soul was there. As I set out to the swings, the creaking of the porch sounded like the roar of a lion in the peaceful evening air. The earth slid under my feet and, in a fraction of a second, I was taking a step that would lead me to the core of fun. On the ground, dead grass was covered by colorful fall leaves that fell from trees. As I walked, squishy mud sank beneath me as the soothing sound of rustling leaves overcame me. Cold wind made me shiver as I stopped to observe the beauty of my backyard. Suddenly, the sun heated up like an oven and ceased my shivering. A frantic hunt of squirrels was happening around me like a search for your most prized possession. I made my way through the tall grass, slicing like a knife towards the swings. The smell of rotting logs wafted towards my nose. My smelling machine scrunched up from the horrid smell. I dodged through dark shadows and then through wonderful light patches. The forest looked so lively but the whistling wind distracted me and invited me to dash across the beautiful yard. It said, “Come on, Jack, you know you want to.” Resisting the temptations, I swerved away, knowing that I would have to use all of my strength to resist. The wind continued and eventually I gave way and turned around to the starting line. I needed to improve my racing skills to beat my friend the Dashing Devil. Off the track we were friends, but, when it came time to race, our years of friendship vanished. Some knew him as John Meyer. Those kids thought that he was the fastest kid in Shrewsbury, but they thought wrong. The fastest kid in Shrewsbury was me. The air got chilly, but that didn’t bother me. The sun took shelter behind a fluffy cloud, knowing that this clash wasn’t going to be pretty. As I lined up at the starting line, John appeared next to me. “Have you tasted defeat?” I asked. “No, and I probably never will. Well, at least not from you,” he said, chuckling. “Prepare to taste defeat,” I spat back to him in disgust. We got into our starting positions, ready to go head-to-head, man-on-man. Go! We took off. Me in first, him in second. The colorful trees turned into blurs as he gained inch-by-inch on me. My heart began to pound, I lost energy and he gained as we flew across the grass. We were neck-and-neck as we closed in on the finish line. I knew that if I could dig deep down inside of me I could beat him. The sun peeped out from behind its bodyguard but then went right back, not bearing to see the ending of our battle. Using my last bits of energy, I took the final steps to… “Victory! Yes! I finally beat John Meyer,” I screamed in my head as my whole body filled with happiness. With no energy left, I collapsed to the ground, still breathing hard. The trees looked down on me, approving my victory. “Yes!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. “I won!” I was exhausted. Hauling myself up, I noticed the tired sun sinking behind the trees. Hobbling towards the start, I felt an urge to do it again, but the torch had gone out for these games. Later, I lay on the couch, exhausted from my battle. I could still see the grass flying beneath my feet as I glided over the finish line. I drifted off into a deep sleep, satisfied with knowing that I’d finally knocked the Dashing Devil off his throne. Jack Taitel, 10Shrewsbury, Massachusetts Alondra Paredes, 11Bentonville, Arkansas
The Race
I hear the whistle blow, bellowing a long note that echoes, bouncing off the tall bleachers on the far side. I look down, gazing at the deep blue water. It laps onto the gutters as the ripples smooth out and meet at the sides. My heart skips as the whistle blows a second time, this time shorter. I slowly step up onto the white, smooth block. The blood pulsing in my ears, my hands shaking as they reach down to grasp the slippery surface. Deep breath, deep breath, I tell myself. Then the starter machine beeps and my body leaves the ground and plunges into the cool darkness. As I dive it seems as if time stands still. Time freezes all around me. The light flashing on my side. First, in slow motion, my hands divide the water and make a path in the calm, waveless liquid. Then follows my body, the water submerging me in complete coolness. As soon as my feet enter the pool, they kick vigorously, sending tiny bubbles up to the surface. I open my eyes and am suddenly surrounded in a blue world. The reflection of the water casts blotchy shadows on the smooth, white bottom. I drift to the surface and turn my head to the side. I gasp for a breath that refills my needy lungs with sweet oxygen. Automatically, my face falls back into the water and my arms slice through the waves. Out of the corner of my eye I see the spray of droplets of water spewing out from my legs. As I dive it seems as if time stands still Above the water it is very noisy. People cheering, whistles blowing, and the yelling of coaches can be heard from the other side of the structure. But under, enveloped in this flowing atmosphere, is silence. The essence of silence all around me. Like the water suffocating my ears, drowning them in a pool of tranquility. The water slips through my fingers like air, only denser. I am thinking about the next turn, the next stroke, the next breath I am going to take. Looking towards the far wall, I eat through the water, driving myself to the next level. I pick up the pace, feeling the competition drip into my brain, taking over all other thoughts floating around. My lungs ache for air, but I don’t relieve them, instead I force my head down and sprint towards my goal. The wall is so near I can almost taste it. But instead I get a mouthful of chlorinated liquid. The tips of my fingers tingle in anticipation. Three more strokes… I am so close. Every muscle in my body stretches forward. I finally crash into the wall, touching it with my fingers first, then my whole hand. I pop out of the water, dip my head back and glance around. A big smile spreads over my face as I realize I have gotten there first. Valerie Luyckx Emily Jackson, 12Maple Valley, Washington
