My mom and I walked through the narrow hallway, noticing all the people around us. I saw a girl in a purple floral dress standing next to her dad. She looked a little younger than I was. I wondered if we were going to be friends. After that, I saw a cast on the girl’s right arm, a type of cast I had never seen before. It looked like decorated plastic. Quickly, I glanced away because I knew it was rude to stare. Still, what was that? It didn’t look like a cast. I thought it was unusual. Absentmindedly, I strolled the rest of the way to the classroom. When we were finally inside, I saw that four students were sitting in their chairs and were unpacking their cellos in a great rush, as if they were police searching bags. One of the students even chipped his cello because he was in such a hurry to be the first to unpack and get the best seat. I looked up at the ceiling. It looked kind of like those dance ceilings full of beams. I guessed they were used for supporting the floors above it. Just then, I noticed that the girl I had previously seen was taking off her arm! I was blank for a minute. Then I knew it. Her right arm was actually artificial. Next, she took something out of a large grocery bag. It seemed like an advanced bionic arm. It was tan and white. Its shape made me feel as if the arm were twisted all around. I could see the technology at work. She handed the bionic arm to her dad, who was a tall and silent man. His attention was focused only on his daughter. He twisted it a few times on her arm and then “Click!”—it was on. During the group lesson, I learned from our teacher that the girl’s name was Kylie. Kylie’s bionic arm had two clips. One was fastened to a modified bridge that supported the strings of her cello and one was fastened to her bionic arm. This way, when Kylie played, the bow wouldn’t slide off the cello. Her dad also put a Bow-Right on the bridge, a two-piece metal frame that was fastened to both sides of the bridge. It was looped by rubber bands and many small pieces of cushion. I pondered why Kylie needed so many cushions on her cello. Finally, I understood that this way, the cello would not get chipped or scratched. I started wondering if I should pay attention to Kylie and be friends with her. Sometimes I have nightmares about people with disabilities. Once I met a boy who had lost two of his fingers. I didn’t know if I was going to have a nightmare about Kylie. Maybe not. I wasn’t sure at all. Sometimes, all these nightmares start to pop into my head. I didn’t know if I was going to have terrifying dreams about her. I thought she might scare me off in my dream. But I was still hesitating. The only problem was I still wanted a friend. Kylie was still sitting next to me. When she was playing, I noticed something else. Her other hand’s fingers were half the length of my own. That brightened my heart up. She made me feel like she was amazing and talented. I couldn’t believe she could play the cello. When Kylie left early that day because she was tired, a girl in the class asked, “What happened to her?” My teacher just replied, “She was born like that.” I wasn’t sure if my teacher really meant it. Maybe it was just a secret that Kylie, her family, and her teacher shared. One month later, my teacher set up a free 30-minute play-together for Kylie and me. We got to play duets, holiday songs, and games with each other. It was really fun. I realized that Kylie was a great, energetic girl. She asked questions, said “hi” to everyone she saw, and was never afraid to make mistakes. Gradually, Kylie and I became friends. Slowly, my fear of nightmares about Kylie disappeared. I learned that the nightmares come to me only if I let them. If I think about them too much, the nightmares overtake my brain. It is kind of like they are gum stuck to the corner of my mind. Once they are there, I can’t get them off. They only loosen when I’m sleeping, and then the devastating dreams about snakes and ghosts happen. If I don’t let them come into my head, they won’t come. And in each of my schools I have been to, I remember at least one of my friends who had a disability. I now knew that disabilities were normal. All my friends who had disabilities could be the same as me. They could eat ice cream, they could play games and instruments, and they could always have smiles on their faces. “ I learned that the nightmares come to me only if I let them Then one day, news from my teacher overloaded my brain. Kylie was coming to a six-day cello camp with me in Washington! I wanted to jump up and down and laugh with joy! I could not believe it. How would she play in front of a crowd without being frightened? If I were her, I would be terrified that I would make a mistake, and I would be scared that people would look at me as if I were someone to gawk at. I could imagine this because there was once a boy at my old school named Josh who always called me “lima bean girl” when I had a scar on my face. And guess what? After a few minutes, all my friends came to call me that. No one likes that kind of attention. I waited and waited for the day to come. The day I would be able to talk
Friendship
Behind
The fluorescent light of the classroom made it even harder to concentrate on the fine, black print that consisted of nothing but endless boredom. My mind tried to make sense of it. The book was written long ago; the 1800s? It reminded me of when a good friend of mine pretended to travel back in time with me. My nose wrinkled at the thought of her. I remembered Alice being fierce and stubborn. Just like I didn’t pay any mind to the words of this book, Alice never listened to me. I groaned just thinking about it. She was like a pestering bee. Going away but always returning. Alice had the eyes of an eagle and the ears of an owl. And, apparently, the instincts of a bee. She had those funny front teeth that jutted out at anything that didn’t seem right. Against my will, my eyes scanned the pages: “Meg, being oldest, seemed to think she could order us about . . . ” Those words hit me like the harsh wind outside, and, as the realization slowly sank in, I felt the air sucked out of me. But why had she let me boss her around? It may have given me pleasure at first, but in the long run, it definitely drove us both out of our minds! I felt lightheaded. Gears seemed to turn in my mind, contemplating this theory. A broken piano key seemed to finally strike the string it had missed up until now and echo through my body. My ears rang. My hands trembled. The whole world spun around me, blurring my vision and clouding my head. If you looked inside my body, you would see a fogged-up window with many attempts to rub the mist off. My eyes skimmed a whole page in my book, but the echo of that dissonant piano chord in my ears was so loud, it diverted my attention so I couldn’t hear the words in my mind. For a moment, I wished I could really travel back in time and fix my mistakes. When had I started to boss her around? One year ago? Two? Since we’d met? No. It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that I had done it, and now I’d have to fix it—without time travel. I racked my brain for ideas. I didn’t want to straight out say, “Did you notice I boss you around a lot?” I came to my senses. I’d just have to stop bossing her around. Plus, now I´d have to reread a whole page in my book that I had missed, but it was too late. My teacher clapped her hands, and I was behind on my book—and my friendship. The recess bell rang its piercing song, decimating my ears. I snapped my head up and stepped outside. A blast of air almost blew me down. I let the door close in front of me and stood back. “ A shiver ran down my spine and pooled on the ground in puddles of trepidation “Did you hear that Linda has . . . ” “What did you get on your test? I got a . . . ” The loud sounds of the hall barely receded every time a cluster of kids exited the building and came back saying it was too cold or windy or this or that. Did I really want to go outside? I shoved the door again, willing it to open. The wind, rougher this time, whipped my face. Even so, I pushed myself through the wind tunnel and stumbled outside, tripping over my feet and using my arm to shield my face. I wished my arm were bigger. The light outdoors was bright, yet the sky was clouded and overcast. The wet dew made my feet cold, and the grass crunched beneath my shoes. The sun was low in the sky making my shadow long. My friends chit chatted as if it were a normal day. But it wasn’t. My friend, Bella, approached me. “We’ve been looking for you!” “Not now. I need to find something. And no, I do not need help right now.” My tense body relaxed a little on a rickety bench that looked as if it would topple over. I stayed completely still as my eyes darted around the school. Where was she? I studied the school. On my right, a bush covered in geraniums lined the grass. The sun was just up behind the bush. A dirt path traversed by a stream from the recent rain led to a cluster of trees. The trees stood tall and blocked most of my view of the benches that surrounded the school. I sensed movement beyond the trees. There. I inched toward Alice ever so slowly, and she, of course, with her uncannily keen senses, noticed me immediately. I continued toward her, the leaves crunching beneath my boots. My arms tensed. My stomach churned, and my legs pulled at me to back up. A shiver ran down my spine and pooled on the ground in puddles of trepidation. The world spiraled about. I couldn’t think straight. I uneasily twirled a strand of my hair. “Hey Alice,” I stammered. She turned her back on me. I looked down. “I’m so sorry.” Alice glared. “I can’t believe I didn’t stand up to you before! Why did I let you make a toy out of me?! Buzz off.” Ha! She really is a bee. I stiffened. “I said, I’M SORRY!!” Whoops. Now she’ll never forgive me. “Leave me alone!” Alice’s mouth was a big, gaping hole. Tears formed in her eyes. Hmm. . . I thought. Nice comeback. What else did you learn on the playground? My cheeks turned bright red. I attempted to hide my face and darted back toward the rickety bench. I could feel Alice staring after me, her eyes boring a hole in my gut. I had just lost a friendship that was so hard to
The Red and Blue Thread
Stella Addle pushed through the school building door, a wave of sound hitting her. Kids yelling and laughing, smiling and scowling. The air felt weighty; the anger, the confusion, pushing down on her shoulders, feeling heavy as bricks. Stella lugged her backpack to her locker. She stared at the lime green paint, then fiddled with her lock and pulled open the locker door. She dropped her backpack on the bottom of the locker and pulled out her math books and her calculator, which was covered in leftover heart stickers from Valentine’s Day. Usually seeing the stickers made her smile, but today she felt as though nothing could make her lips turn upward. This was a tragedy, an absolute tragedy. Forty five presidents and none of them had been women! Hillary Clinton should have won, she should have been the first woman president, but that stupid Donald Trump had to ruin everything! Stella thought as she slammed her locker shut with gusto. November 8th 2016 is going to be the worst day of my life! Stella walked to her homeroom, her legs feeling unsteady, her whole world feeling out of balance, broken. Feeling dizzy, she sat down and scanned the room for Gabby while taking in the rest of the scene. Gabriella Carmann had been Stella’s best friend since second grade. They did everything together; they had sleepovers and shared their deepest secrets with each other, they knew they could tease the other about their clothes and not offend them. They balanced each other out, Gabby was the flashy, stubborn, strong headed leader of the two, and Stella was the quieter, gentler one, keeping them away from heated drama. When Stella was around Gabby she felt a certain strength, a sense of courage that she didn’t feel when she was alone, as if some of Gabby’s confidence was magically seeping into her. For Gabby, Stella was the source of cool water that doused Gabby’s flames, the flames that burned the same color as her orange hair. It was because of Stella that Gabby was starting to find some of that water in herself, way deep down, but still it was there. Pink Finally she saw her: Gabby walked into the classroom sporting a pair of gray hand-me-down sweatpants from her older sister Franny, short for Frances, and a purple t-shirt with a turquoise flower print. Her denim backpack hug over her shoulder and her long red hair was pulled into a tight ponytail. This was Gabby’s usual look, so what surprised Stella was the smile that spread across Gabbys face. Stella knew Gabby and her family were Republican, but for some reason Stella never thought they would vote for Trump, or be happy if he won. Puzzled, Stella stood up and followed Gabby to her locker. “Hey,” Stella said leaning against one of the lockers. “Morning,” Gabby replied as she unpacked her backpack. “So…” Stella said nodding slowly. Thoughts were racing through her mind; conversation usually came easy to the two of them, why was it hard now? “What?” Gabby said. “What is it? What’s wrong?” You’re happy…. Trump’s our President-Elect…. Stella thought as she looked at the floor. “If something’s up, just tell me,” Gabby slammed her locker shut and stared at her friend. Just tell me. Please. “It’s just… you… are you glad Trump won?” Stella’s face turned red with shame. “Oh! Uh, yeah, I mean, I guess…. I mean my parents voted for him.” She thought we voted for Hillary? She knows we’re Republican, Gabby thought. The bell rang and the hallways were filled with noisy sixth, seventh, and eighth graders. Stella had math first period and Gabby had science. “I got to go. See you later?” Gabby asked. “Sure,” Stella said, and she turned and walked to math, wondering what had just happened. * * * Stella plopped down in her chair, feeling exhausted. Family dinners were an important part of the Addle household and usually Stella enjoyed them, especially on lasagna nights like these, but not tonight. Margaret Addle, Stella’s mom, placed the lasagna on the table and sat down across from her husband. Usually, though it was only the three of them, the table buzzed with conversation, a light and fluffy happiness, almost as delicious as Mrs. Addle’s cooking, hanging in the air. Tonight however, the air felt heavy and cold and the conversation that usually flowed easily, had vanished. “ Did Stella’s parents know Gabby’s parents had voted for Trump? “Well, how was everyone’s day?” Mr. Addle asked. His eyes were wide and he had an awkward smile. He began scooping lasagna onto plates. “Where do I begin!?” Mrs. Addle rolled her eyes, looking generally annoyed. “Sarah and Megan were talking about the election during our lunch break, and guess what?” She put a fork full of lasagna into her mouth. Sarah and Megan were some of Mrs. Addle’s coworkers. “What?” Mr. Addle asked. Stella looked back and forth between her parents, she could tell this was not a good “guess what.” “They both voted for Trump! Both of them!” Mrs. Addle was yelling now. “Women! Women voted for Trump! They’re uneducated women, that’s what they are!” She let out a heavy sigh. “Uneducated women,” she said, shaking her head. Stella stared at her mother. She had never seen her like this: yelling, looking close to tears, yet not sad. “Margaret, please, calm down,” Mr. Addle said putting a hand on his wife’s hand. Stella kept looking at her mother. Mrs. Addle’s blue eyes looked foggy and gray. Her body shook with anger, but slowly as she got back her cool, the anger lessened and a sadness settled in. Her shoulders sagged and Stella noticed something she had never seen in her mother before: helplessness. Suddenly a frightening thought came to Stella, and her parents conversation about taxes and broken printers at work became muffled and hard to hear. Gabby said her parents voted for
