To Elsa, Saturdays mean bliss. Saturdays are the morning of her entire week. They are the crowning glory the cherry on the top of the sundae. A week without Saturdays to Elsa would be a week without happiness. She takes what she can get. And she gets Saturdays. All week long, she taps her patent-leather-clad toes. She fidgets and she flutters. She doesn’t have the patience to button her dresses or shirts, or zip up jackets. She’s a blur, she’s a nuisance. She’s waiting for her Saturdays. Her parents smile fondly, and her sisters scoff. But what can they do? The brownstone at 23 East Hampshire Street is the kingdom, and Elsa is the miniature queen. Mother, Father, Clara, Heidi, and Tanya, they all jump to her commands. The eldest, Lena, does too. And can they help it? Just a frown from the little dancer casts a shadow over the whole day. Even Palinka, the brown-and-white dog, is devoted to Elsa. No treat tastes as good as bacon from Elsa’s pudgy, dimpled hand. Elsa’s treats are Saturdays. Friday night she comes home from dance class, and plops her little four-year-old self by the dining room window. She sits, all by herself, in the velvet crimson window seat, and carefully lets down her bun of red-gold hair. She slips off her dance shoes and her scratchy tutu, and lets them fall to the floor like unheard whispers. The dining room is glossy, decadent, and dark. Books from the mahogany shelves brood over Elsa, thinking important thoughts. Elsa is a little scared by the picture of Great-Grandmother Marguerite that overlooks the window seat, who has the hooked nose of people who died very old a very long time ago. But Elsa has learned to look defiantly back into Great-Grandmother’s flat brown eyes. Lena smiles at her little ballerina of a sister, bringing her cinnamon cookies Elsa herself has bright blue eyes, like well-tended violets or pieces of spring sky the fairies forgot to collect. She has a little upturned nose sprinkled with cinnamon freckles, and soft pink lips. Her upper lip is dented with a little scar, from when high-spirited Heidi dropped her on the hearth. Elsa has never quite forgiven Heidi for that. But she loves Heidi anyway. Elsa is a person who loves naturally Even Heidi, who is all long legs and jutting elbows and who can be hard to love. Some people can sing and some people can run, but Elsa can love. Elsa leans her red-gold head against the mahogany paneling, and taps her fingers in a rhythm. She hears Clara practicing at the piano. Music fills the house like piney smells, grand and booming. Clara, who is fifteen, loves the piano. Clara wraps her whole soul in music, like a down blanket. She hums all the time, even in her sleep. When she walks home from school, her long gangly legs in their navy-blue-uniform tights skip to the tune of an unheard violin. Elsa hears Tanya with Mother in the kitchen, banging oven doors, stirring, whirring the beaters. Heidi is groaning in the living room, angry with math. Heidi takes up so much space, with long legs and arms and wild auburn hair and flashing green eyes. She vibrates with contained energy. Elsa doesn’t. Elsa radiates peace. Elsa watches the people go by, bundled up and warm. They wave at her fairy image in the windowpane. She waves back, and then turns to Lena. Lena smiles at her little ballerina of a sister, bringing her cinnamon cookies. Lena stretches her lean arm along the mantelpiece, and lays her glossy brown head on it, and watches her sister. “Elsie, how was ballet?” “It was good.” Elsa takes a deep bite of cinnamon-raisin cookie. “We did plies. I’m to be a Snowflake in the Nutcracker.'” “That’s grand,” Lena says. She smiles, her green eyes calm and comfortable, laughing at the little miniature witch of a girl. “And are you waiting for Saturday?” “Oh, yes,” says Elsa. And then Mother comes in, moving quietly, a candle in her hand. “Elsie, liebchen, hand me the matches.” Elsa does so, scrambling, a little monkey in her tights. She hands Mother the box of heavy matches, and everyone watches as Mother lights the Friday night candles. Puff! The candles bloom like chrysanthemums in the darkness, Mother’s hand shielding them from the wind. * * * Saturday morning Elsa wakes up early, and she lets twelve-year-old Tanya help her dress. Elsa buttons her red coat, and she takes her blue hat into Lena’s room. Lena and Heidi are just waking up, fresh-faced in the early morning dawn. Lena brushes Elsa’s hair, the brush sure and strong in her hands. She strokes Elsa’s tangles into a red-gold halo of curls. Elsa scrunches her blue tam-o’-shanter on her head, and Heidi frowns at her. Elsa smiles back, angelic and content. And then all the sisters walk out the door. They walk hand-in-hand, tall and dignified Lena, fiery tomboy Heidi, dreamy musician Clara. Plump and motherly Tanya holds hands with Elsa. One by one, they file into the corner deli. They get their bagels, they get their lox. The owner smiles at the Saturday morning regulars, and hands them free moon cookies. Elsa hates moon cookies, but she wouldn’t have any other cookie for the world. She licks off the brown-and-white icing, careful not to mix the two. She waits to lick the brown icing until all the creamy moon part is licked off, and the hard, tasteless half-cookie is slick and shiny in her mittened hand. The sisters walk to the park, and eat the bagels there. Elsa’s heart is singing and dancing. She thinks her chest might burst open with how happy she is. Lena smiles at her, thinking her own private thoughts. That Elsa. Always staring at something in the distance, something that pleased her and made her rose-pink lips twist in one corner. “Keep your fairy lands, Elsie,” Lena whispers. Elsa eats
Family
Zachary
As Mel picked up the phone, my freshly bitten fingernails dug into the wooden carvings that decorated our antique chaise lounge. But the look he gave me after a few seconds made my heart sink for the gazillionth time that evening. Why weren’t they calling? As he hung up the phone, Mel let out a long, long sigh. “It was Ms. Connelly, she wants to know if we have her ladder still, go and check won’t you?” Mel’s voice sounded bored. I was about to leave our living room when the phone rang once more. This time, there was no disappointment on Mel’s face. “Dad!” cried Mel. “What’s going on, is Mom OK?” Before my father could answer, I was on the kitchen phone shooting out questions a mile a minute. My father’s hearty laughter boomed from the phone, “Your mother is fine, children, and so is your new brother, Zachary.” I swear that when I heard those words, the sky lit up. My new brother! A long eight months ago, our parents had told us that we should expect a new addition to the family. Since then life seemed to drag, waiting for my new sibling. And now, now he was alive, a new child in the world. My brother. Tears of joy streamed down my cheeks as my father offered him to me Mel revved up his red Honda and we were on our way to the hospital. I sat in the front seat, looking out of the window and imagining my new brother. Zachary would have lovely, chocolaty- brown skin, with jet-black curls sprouting up all over his head. He would have sparkling brown eyes, and rosy cheeks. He would be a gorgeous baby He was mine. “Mom!” I ran into the hospital room excitedly. “Sam! Sweetie, come look at our Zachary!” I turned around and there, in my father’s arms, was the most adorable baby I had ever seen. He was just what I imagined and more. His long, black eyelashes quivered as he blinked and began to stare at me. Tears of joy streamed down my cheeks as my father offered him to me. I agreed, and held out my arms. His soft body was now cradled in my arms and he looked up at me and chuckled with his small little mouth. Too scared of dropping him, I handed him back to my mother who smiled at me warmly. “Don’t worry, you have to get used to holding a newborn.” I played with Zachary for a bit and then the nurse said my mother had to do some tests, so did the baby. We were about to leave when I felt something tugging on my finger. It was Zachary’s little fist. I turned to him with tears in my eyes and whispered, “Don’t worry, I’ll always be there for you.” Adanma Raymond, 12Cascade, Trinidad and Tobago,West Indies Jena Ritchey, 13Albuquerque, New Mexico
The Strawberry Olympics
Looking back at this I realize how important Chad was and still is to me. I realized that he was no longer Chase’s little brother, and was now my cousin that I loved, no, my brother that I loved. I always loved going to Atlanta to visit my family. Well, mostly the Sittens. Let me rephrase that, I always couldn’t wait to see Chase. The Sittens are my mom’s identical twin’s family I loved hanging out with Chase, the oldest son. I saw him as an older brother more than anything. My second mom, Aunt Kathy, suggested that we go strawberry picking at the largest strawberry farm in Atlanta. “It’s the biggest one in Georgia,” Chase stated. “Yay!” Chad shouts in joy and remembrance of his previous times there. “Sure I’ll go,” I said. That’s when my mom starts giving out orders. “OK, you get the sunscreen, you get the baskets.” “Mom, they give you baskets there.” “Oh, OK, never mind,” she said, sounding disappointed that she was incorrect, like a child on Christmas without gifts. Then she forgot that disappointment and we were all happy to go. I jumped in the back of the van right next to Chad. All he could talk about was how much fun we were going to have. “We’re gonna eat as many as we can. We’re gonna see who can get the most in a minute, who can eat their whole basket the fastest. We’ll call it, the Strawberry Olympics,” Chad said so proudly to think of the name. They were strawberries, decadent and juicy. At that moment I knew I was ready to compete “Wow, that sounds so boring. Why would somebody think of something that boring?” Chase mentioned like he knew everything. He didn’t. Once we arrived there and decided what game was first, we got our buckets and began picking. I decided that I was going to ignore Chase and finally side with Chad. Chad and I were going to coalesce for the first time. I was new to siding with Chad, but what Chad said in the car sounded like there was nothing more fun in the world. “Dude, I’m leaving you kiddies. I’m not gonna play your stupid games. See ya,” he yelled across the farm. Chase went to go on and do his own thing. At first I leisurely picked strawberries. It was a warm-up for the games. I went to put the first strawberry in my mouth and I had this mouth-watering sensation. It was like all the colors of the world were blurry and all I could see was a strawberry and picture how good that tasted. They were strawberries, decadent and juicy At that moment I knew I was ready to compete. “OK. Let’s see who can fill up their basket first?” “Fine with me. I just don’t want you to cry when you lose,” I exclaimed, assured of my victory. I ran down the rows of strawberries picking as many as I could. I looked over just to see Chad doing the same three rows down. My confidence grew smaller every time I looked over, but I knew I could come through. Just at that moment I heard… “Done!” Chad had beaten me. I was upset for the loss but I kept my head up high for the next event. “Now it’s my turn to pick the event,” I said, knowing that I had to pick an event that I knew I could win, otherwise I would be down two to zero. That was a margin I couldn’t overcome. “Let’s see… How about whoever can eat the most strawberries in one minute. You up for the challenge?” “Let’s see who’s crying after this one.” “Ready… Set… Go!” The minute had started and I was eating away I watched the clock carefully to make sure I was going to pace myself to not get too full and not be able to keep going. Then I glanced over at Chad. I saw he dropped one on his shirt and the juice from the bottom of the bucket was leaking all over his pants. I burst into laughter. “Ha ha, Chad!!!!” I couldn’t help but laugh at him not noticing that he looked like a giant, red, strawberry himself. Once he realized how much I was laughing he couldn’t help but laugh. By this time the look on my face just made laughter and joy explode into Chad. I think he blew a bubble with his nose. He just couldn’t control himself. (At that age everything was funny.) We both simply lay there with not a care in the world about who won. Now it was simply about having a great time. We decided that the games were no longer needed to have fun. Even though Chase said that the games were dumb and we actually only finished one event he still wasn’t right. So then we just sat there and enjoyed each other’s company. “I’m so glad you could come down.” “I know, usually we can only come during the holidays but I’m glad I got to come in the summer,” I said, just happy to be near my family. “C’mon guys,” Aunt Kathy shouted as a signal to get us all in the car. “Oh man!” we all yelled back. We then all followed her to the car and thanked the owner of the farm as we left. “I got the back seat,” I yelled, hoping the louder I yelled the better chance I have of getting it. “Fine, I got shotgun,” Chase stated in protest. As Chad and I settled in the back of the car I knew Chase was going to send a wisecrack my way And he did. “So how was the Strawberry Olympics?” he says in a baby voice. “It was so much fun.” “Yeah, we had a great time. Sorry you couldn’t join us… not,” Chad throws an insult at his older brother. Chase sits, disgusted that
