I stared out into the pitch-black morning. It was about five AM and very quiet. There was a huge lump stuck in my throat and I tried as hard as I could not to let my tears spill out. A single tear rolled down my cheek anyway. We were passing the tennis courts and the park. My eyes wandered from each familiar sight to another, and my hands were trembling. I could hear the quiet sound of the highway and I could see some lights flickering on in some houses. We passed by my friend Jean’s house, the house I’ve played at for so many years, the house of one of my best friends. The house that we had so many parties at, the house that we had pretended was so many things. In my mind, I said a farewell to Jean, to Alanna, to Nancy, Cameron, Roxy, Sarah, and everybody else I knew. My family was moving from North Carolina to Texas. Moving away from the one place that I would ever call home. I knew that I would miss the cold mountains, the warm beach, all the camping trips, and my friends; I would miss everything in North Carolina. A couple years before, my dad was notified that, if he wanted to, he would be transferred to Galveston, Texas. I was eight and I didn’t mind much. A couple of years later, the choice was final. My father would move to Galveston first and find a new house for us. At the end of the school year, my mom, sister, and I would move to Texas, after selling our house. I felt like the world was crumbling down, right in front of me. Life was so unfair. North Carolina was my home, my everything. North Carolina was my home, my everything Months later, we moved. My head was spinning and I was freezing cold. Not because it was a cold night, it was summer and quite warm, but because the string connecting my home and me had been cut by a big greedy monster. We drove until we came to the very end of North Carolina and started heading into the next state. “Well, this is it, from this moment on, North Carolina will only be our past, and we’re moving on. Say goodbye,” my dad said quietly. Tears stung my eyes, and they spilled out all at once. I didn’t try to stop them. They just kept on pouring out. “Although my body is moving on, my heart and soul will always stay here, no matter what,” I said fiercely. My sister hugged me tight and we drove past the welcome sign. She murmured something and then laid her head down on the pillow beside her. We’ve been through so much together, and we’ve always made it through. This wasn’t going to be any different. I was pretty quiet the rest of the ride to Texas. My heart pounded loudly and my head ached in pain. My legs and arms were stiff and my eyes were forcing me to sleep, my mouth was drawn into a thin line, and I refused to accept that we were moving on. “No, I’m not moving on, where my heart stays is where the real me will always be, this is just my body here, that doesn’t mean anything,” I whispered to myself “And that’s that.” Caroline Lu, 10Friendswood, Texas Orli Hakanoglu, 10New York, New York
Moving-New-Home
Changes
Tick-tick. Tick-tick. The turn signal silenced as Dad rounded the last curb. After a long car ride, Orchard Drive was finally in view. My soon-to-be new house loomed in the distance. It was a sort of gloomy gray color with a ruby-red door that stood out against the drab surroundings. I had decided to like it. After all, what choice did I have? Mom and Dad had made up their minds. Come morning, the house was ours. Besides, everything at home, at school felt so . . . disconnected. It was all flat, the same old life I’d had since age five. I might even need a change. But life wasn’t bad exactly, I reminded myself. It was fine, and safe, I knew that. Who knew what was waiting here? Our old red Buick pulled up the unfamiliar driveway Dad unlocked the doors with a click and we climbed out. As we walked to the front door, Dad promised, “It won’t be long today, hon. I just have to make a few touch-ups on the paint job.” I nodded. The house was truly ugly on the inside, and since Mom loved to watch “Trading Spaces,” “House to Home,” and other interior decorating shows, she had taken on redecorating the house as her personal mission. Dad and I had reached the front door. He punched in a number in the lockbox the real estate company had attached to its handle. As he turned the knob, I couldn’t resist asking, “What’s the password?” Dad grinned, “Secret.” All these trees, with no houses behind ours! It was something I’d always asked, and the answer was always the same. Now we were in the house, and I was distracted by the awful smell! I coughed. The horrid scent made the air seem thick; I could barely breathe. Probably the paint, I told myself. Every wall had been painted, courtesy of Dad, and we had hired a company to put in wood flooring. Then I remembered— they had put a protective coating on the floor. That was probably not the most pleasant fragrance, and mixed in with the paint scent, the result made you want to hold your nose! But Dad admired what he could see of the house. “Looks nice,” he said, a bit of pride in his voice. “It’ll smell for a while, though, partly because of the paint, but mostly because of the floors. They put on a special coat of . . . ” I smiled, hoping I looked interested while being informed of something I’d just figured out for myself, but I was putting all my efforts into trying not to gag on the scent. How could I survive even fifteen minutes in here? “Look, Dad,” I said, interrupting him. “Maybe I can go outside today I mean, it’s the warmest weather we’ve had this spring, and we’ve got that whole woods in our backyard . .. ” He hesitated, and for a moment I thought he wouldn’t let me go. “I think—oh, go ahead. Have fun.” * * * I’d always loved walking in the woods, but the opportunity hardly presented itself. We lived in a city, and our backyard had been a few yards of grass, but this—this was heaven! All these trees, with no houses behind ours! I set out, but to my disappointment, the trees were purposely planted in rows. Not a woods to have adventures in, not a natural forest. These trees were planted by man. As I walked through orderly rows of maple and pine, I thought about life. Well, I thought about moving, in particular. The same old thoughts I’d been thinking ran through my head. A change. That sounded inviting. I envisioned myself with new friends, great friends, an awesome school . . . but who was I kidding? I wasn’t the most outgoing person in the universe, and I certainly wouldn’t be surrounded by friends at the end of September. The best date I could expect friends by was December. Change, I told myself. Change is nice. But moving? Isn’t that a little extreme? Moving is much too permanent, too final. It takes away everything—specially friends. I’d still see them once in a while, but . . . There was nothing wrong with life as it was. It just needed a little spice, like a new hobby, or new friends, or both. I wondered if I could convince my parents to back out of it. The contract, Mom had told me, wasn’t signed yet, but tomorrow they had a meeting with the current owner and then the papers would be signed. The owner had let us do whatever we pleased with the house (such as paint it) for right now. I forced myself to let my thoughts wander, and became aware that I was now walking through an assortment of different trees, not the rows I’d been walking on before. I wondered if I was still on the property Who owned the land behind this, anyway? I imagined running into an escaped convict, and from there, my thoughts ran wild. I spotted a beer bottle, and then a broken piece of pottery. Could someone really be living back here?! Frantically, I walked straight ahead, thinking maybe I’d run into a house soon, until my path was blocked by a thick row of bushes that stretched on and on. I trudged through it, only getting three scratches, but I tripped on a fallen branch and fell flat on my face. Something had cushioned my fall. I glanced down. Grass, piles of it. The lush green grass you only see on TV commercials. I didn’t feel any pain, so I looked around. Oh, the sunlight! I hadn’t realized how dark it had been among the trees. There was that bright, lush, green grass, with a large bush here and there. Little yellow wildflowers and purple crocuses sprinkled the ground, and I spotted a lone robin making a nest inside one of the
The Blue Jays’ Song
Ciela frowned. She tossed the last of her shirts into the faded lavender suitcase, then collapsed on the dusty floor, sighing. She gazed around the room for the last time. It had been stripped bare of every single object Ciela possessed and now seemed strange and unfamiliar, as though it belonged in a different house. She could still picture it exactly the way it used to be. Nestled comfortably under the alcove was a narrow bed, the plush covers askew. Curtains that Ciela had designed herself caressed the window, incandescent with the light of a summer morning. The peridot carpet was frequently peppered with random objects—a stray hair elastic or a purple fluorescent pen. A towering cupboard leaned against the corner, an army of haphazardly arranged items perched on top. She didn’t like using a bookcase— it was a jail cell for all those wonderful stories—so all of her books were categorized into ever-changing piles against the wall. But best of all was the ceiling, a complex yet beautiful replica of the inky nighttime sky, stars scattered across its expanse. Ciela had memorized every single constellation by heart. But that bedroom now seemed miles away, and Ciela forced it to the back of her mind. That was from her old life. A life she would never be able to get back. Faintly, she heard a tap at the door. After a few seconds of silence, there was a deep sigh and the unoiled door creaked open. She could still picture it exactly the way it used to be “Hi, sweetie.” Ciela’s dad’s voice was deep and resonant, and always calmed her. But now she could hear traces of sadness buried somewhere inside it. His face looked different from the one Ciela knew; his mouth was a thin, white line stretched across his face; his eyes were somber and humorless; the lines on his forehead seemed to have deepened. He said the words as though they caused him pain. “It’s time to go.” Ciela sat up. She reached out and touched the walls that held so many memories. Goodbye, her mind whispered to her bedroom. Then she came to her feet and, without a second glance, stalked out the open door. Ciela didn’t say anything, but her father saw it all in his daughter’s eyes, and it stung. How could you do this to me? * * * The weathered SUV veered into a narrow driveway, gravel crunching below its chunky wheels. The house was small and rectangular, its cream paint job chipped and curling in places. It sat squatly, its foundation succumbing to grass that sprouted as far as the eye could see. Gangly trees clustered in the front yard, their slender arms spread wide, marking their territory. Some branches stretched so far out that their leaves brushed the house, green against pale cream. Don’t come in, they seemed to say. Behind the house was a wood so densely packed with trees that it looked like a sea of dusky green. There was something unwelcoming about the house that Ciela couldn’t quite place. Maybe it was the fact that the windows weren’t glowing. Maybe it was the absence of the battered basketball hoop in the driveway, or the bicycles that weren’t propped against the garage door. It wasn’t home. Ciela’s intense gray eyes scanned the place where she was going to live. Suddenly, she felt a wave of nausea wash over her. The tight interior of the car brought out her claustrophobia, and staring at the house didn’t help. With a shaky hand, she opened the heavy door and stepped outside. Her dad rolled down the misted window. “Ciela, you OK?” He looked concerned, his face more lined than usual. “I’m fine,” she muttered. She heard her dad beginning to lift some suitcases and bags from the car. A cool breeze ruffled her black hair and tickled her scrawny arms. It rippled through the grass, each blade bending in turn. The knot in Ciela’s stomach loosened a little as she stood in the knee-deep grass, her fingers gently skimming the emerald expanse. But then Ciela’s gaze drifted back to the house, and her stomach clenched again. She took one step towards it, another, then halted in her tracks. She could feel a sudden silence, her dad’s eyes boring into the back of her head. Ciela’s nose was an inch away from the peeling paint of the door and her knees were quaking slightly. She stared through the grimy door window, but all she saw was a narrow hallway smothered in darkness. Could this really be the place where she was going to live? Her bones felt hollow. Before she even had time to think, she ran. She only just heard her father’s shout before the wind began to roar through her ears. Those memories would stay with her forever, no matter where she lived Ciela’s head was spinning as green shapes streaked by. She didn’t know exactly where she was going, just away. The air was damp, with the scent of plants lingering in it, and she felt its humid hands wrap around her skin. She had plunged into foliage; dappled shadows played on the earth around her. Ciela’s sandals slapped against the moss-blanketed ground, her hair whipping behind her in a tangled river. She gasped, black spots dancing in front of her eyes. Her heart raced and thundered with every step, her mind swirled in a hurricane of confusion, but Ciela did not stop. She ran until her throat was clenched into a fist, until a sharp stitch had formed at her side, until all the energy was drained from her body. Finally, exhausted and out of breath, Ciela’s legs buckled beneath her. She scooted up against a choppy brown mass that must have been a tree trunk, rested her head against it, and allowed herself a moment of peace. * * * Ciela’s eyes snapped open. She was in the heart of a glade, lustrous light pouring
