Unbroken by Jessie Haas; Greenwillow Books: New York, 1999; $15 In Unbroken, Harriet Gibson becomes an orphan in 1910 when her mother dies in a horse-and-buggy accident. Now thirteen-year-old Harriet must leave her old life in a small Vermont town to live in the country with her Aunt Sarah. Having recently moved, I can understand how Harriet felt as she left her house, school, and friends. Even though I was unhappy when I moved, Harriet must have been even sadder since her mother just died. Like Harriet, once I was settled in my new home, I wasn’t sure how to act. I had to learn how things were done in my new neighborhood and school. “Where do I hand homework in? Do I really need a hall pass just to put my flute in the band room?” I asked myself. Harriet also had to learn how to behave in her new surroundings. When she sits on the chopping block and gets blood on her dress, Harriet is uncertain what to do. “Should I just wash it off or do I have to ask permission?” Harriet wonders. Harriet realizes there’s a lot she doesn’t know about living on a farm. Soon after Harriet moves in, she and Aunt Sarah begin to argue. Aunt Sarah insults Harriet’s mother, complains about the way Harriet does chores, and thinks Harriet will never be able to train the young colt so she can ride him. Both of them are insistent on getting their own way. My older brother reminds me of Aunt Sarah because he always believes his way is right. When he compares his grades to mine or laughs at how I play sports, I often yell at him and get into a fight like Harriet and Aunt Sarah did. As the summer goes by, Harriet learns how to help with farm work, cope with her mother’s death, and get along with Aunt Sarah. One evening Harriet tries to get to know Aunt Sarah by asking her questions about her childhood. Harriet also helps with chores without being asked, such as when she offers to help with cutting the hay. My brother and I are working on being kind to each other, too. When I play his favorite video game with him or ask how his day went, we become closer. Most importantly, Harriet starts to accept life on the farm and think of it as home, just as I am beginning to accept my new life after moving. When I first picked up Unbroken, I thought it was just going to be about a girl training her horse. Once I started reading, I realized the story was about a lot more—dealing with changes, getting along with other people, and discovering the importance of family. The author, Jessie Haas, made the characters seem like real people. I really enjoyed Unbroken and would recommend this book to anyone who likes historical fiction, horses, or just an excellent story. Julia Schuchard, 12Lawrenceville, Georgia
Lizy
Lizy was my best friend the summer I turned six, though that summer I also learned she couldn’t be forever. I found her resting in the cattails by my father’s pond. Her shell was speckled with mud and pieces of wet grass stuck to her damp surface. My parents discovered me patting her softly with my hand. Lizy was only an egg then. My father rolled the speckled egg into his warm palm. “Sally,” he said, “I’m going to make you a little friend.” I stared at him for a minute, then Mama took my hand and we all went inside. I sat in my chair, while I watched my mother rummaging through boxes in a closet and my father flipping through pages of books with one hand, and securing his reading glasses with the other. Suddenly my mother spoke, “I found it hon, it’s as good as new!” A few minutes later a little incubator stood on a table in my room. I sat by Lizy as many hours as I could for the next few weeks as my father came in and out of my room, helping me turn Lizy’s egg and moisten her shell with sprays of warm water. On the twenty-eighth day, the unbelievable happened and my best friend was born. Loud peeps, a wet, sleepy duckling, and an empty shell, is all I can remember from Lizy’s hatching, but memories of gazing, wondering and studying as she grew have not faded through the years. Neither has the love I felt when I first laid eyes on the lonely little egg surrounded by cattails. My parents discovered me patting her softly with my hand. Lizy was only an egg then “It’s that time of year again,” my father whispered in my ear, “the time when your old grandma comes to wish you a happy birthday.” My mother sighed. “Aw, come on, Lynda,” teased my father, “she isn’t that bad, is she?” He gave her a kiss. “Ted, you know I care for your mother, I’m just worried about what she’ll think of Lizy. Maybe we should move her outside before your mother arrives tomorrow. You know how she is with animals.” My father picked me up and held me in his arms. My mother gave him a serious glance. I was placed on the counter. “Aw Lynda, Lizy’s too young for that.” He slipped his hand in hers. “Lizy’s still a little fluff ball, Grandma won’t mind.” Then he turned to me. “Isn’t that right, Sally?” I nodded my head as a loud peeping noise came from upstairs. “Come on, Sal,” he said, setting me down and taking my hand, “Lizy’s hungry.” We walked up the stairs. When we got to Lizy her loud crying stopped; her food and water bowl were full. That night as I rested in my bed I heard my parents talking loudly in their room. “We can’t give her away, Lynda, Sal would feel awful, she’d never forgive us!” “I know, Ted,” admitted my mother. “I know that Sal would be heartbroken, but what are we gonna do, keep Lizy forever? Where she really belongs is outside with other wild ducks, maybe even in the pond, not in a cage, in the backyard.” “I haven’t seen any ducks in our pond, and who knows what could happen to her in the wild, that’s a terrible idea.” “Right, I know, but Lizy’s going to get big and the summer is going to end, Ted. When you go back to teaching in the fall and Sally goes to school, what happens then?” My father stammered. “You . . . you don’t want to take care of her?” “No, it’s hard work. Don’t you think I have enough to do? I think,” she paused, “that it would be better for Sal, for us to give Lizy away sooner as opposed to later. Maybe she’ll forget faster, or maybe she’ll never forget, I don’t know. But I think she should learn, better than us, what is OK to keep as a pet and what isn’t. Don’t you think so?” There was no response for a while, then . . . “She will never forgive us if we take Lizy away. Let her find what’s right herself, hon, that’s how people learn the best,” said my father. “We’ll just wait it out, OK? Play it by ear?” “But Sally’s only six years old!” “Shhhhhh,” whispered my father, and I heard no more. I looked down at Lizy’s box. She seemed happy enough to me, peeping softly. I didn’t want her to go. “Lizy,” I whispered. I got up and climbed down from my bed. “Peep, peep . . .” I said. “Pip, pip, pip, pip,” Lizy answered. I picked her up and put her in my lap. That night I fell asleep on the floor, with Lizy curled up on my tummy. The next morning when I awoke, Lizy had disappeared from my side. My mind traced back to the night before. I envisioned her being plucked from my hand like a helpless flower and I started to cry. Suddenly a peep came from Lizy’s box next to the spare bed. I crawled over to it and gazed at her in the corner. I patted her rubbery beak and wiped my eyes. That afternoon there was a knock at the door. Unlike most days when I wore sweatpants and a T-shirt, I was dressed in a little yellow jumper with my thin hair tied in bows. My grandmother loved when I was dressed special for her arrival. She loved being clean and proper, and she wanted everything around her to be clean and proper too. She did not like animals and almost every time my grandmother came over she got in fights with my parents. My mother and father weren’t married, they said that marriage just makes things more complicated. My grandma called them lazy once, a lazy couple. She said that marriage was important.
Freedom
I was once a slave, but now I am a teacher. This is my story. The year is 1830, and I am twelve years old. I live on a plantation in South Carolina. I have no kin with me at this plantation. I was separated from my mother at age seven. She was sold to another master. Of the rest of my family I know nothing, except that there were others. At this time of my life I am changing and growing up. I hear whispers of slaves escaping and reaching the North to be free. Before my mother was taken from me, she made me promise that I would try in any way I could to make it up North. At the time I was very young and really did not know what she was talking about, but now I do. Over the years, I became a companion to the master’s daughter, Anna. When we played together, I learned how to read and write. She would be the teacher and I was the student. Reading and writing is forbidden to slaves and punishable by death. Therefore, it was our secret. Anna and I became very close, almost like sisters, and it was she who came upon the idea that I needed to escape and go up North. At that moment, shocked and scared by what she said, I knew she was right, because our game could no longer remain a secret. The seed of an idea was planted, and so Anna and I spoke in terrified whispers to plot how I was going to escape. For many nights, Anna and I talked about how I was going to leave. Tears would come to our eyes as we realized we would be separating, but Anna would always remind me that when she becomes an adult she would be able to travel and visit with me. That thought comforted the both of us. One night as I was drifting off to sleep I heard soft voices and whispers. Curious, I got up to see what was going on and saw shadows of slaves sneaking away toward the woods. I followed quietly, and when I reached the woods, I could see people sitting on the ground in a circle. In the middle of the circle was a black man holding a book, reading. I heard him say, “Jesus said to him, ‘I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through Me.” His voice was gentle, but strong and sure. I began to feel comforted and excited because I began to think this might be the answer to my dilemma. I began to walk through the circle of people until I stood in front of him. The man looked at me and said, “To you, O Lord, I lift up my soul. O my God, I trust in You; let me not be ashamed; let not my enemies triumph over me.” The man closed the book and waited, watching me. With tears streaming down my face, I said, “It is time for me to go North” I reached out my hand and touched the book; with tears streaming down my face, I said, “It is time for me to go North.” The man placed his hand over mine and said, “So you shall.” Later that night the preacher and I talked and plotted about how I was going to escape. Finally, he told me I must go back and get my belongings and be ready to go the next night. Anna and I spent our last day together. We talked about my freedom and how brave I was. Anna gave me a locket with a flower engraved on the surface as a parting gift. I promised her I would send her a message when I was safe. As time passed, it became dark, and I drifted into the woods where I would meet the preacher. I walked until I spotted him. The evening air was still and damp. We began to run until we came to a river. The water was quiet with an occasional whoosh of sounds and sucking noises. At that moment, he told me that I was going to come to a field of crops, and there would be a white farmer waiting there. He gave me a little nudge and I stepped into the freezing water. I was on my way to freedom. When I crossed the river I ran faster and faster, fear catching in my throat, branches tearing at my face, legs and hands, until I came to a cornfield. I saw a white farmer and ran up to him. Placing his finger to his lips, he directed me to the bottom of the wagon. As I began the journey into the night, I fell into a fitful sleep. It seemed that all of a sudden the wagon stopped, causing me to awaken with a start. I had not slept deeply but rather I dozed fitfully, my mind still aware of the wagon moving over jutted ground, fear crowding my thoughts of what I was doing. The farmer directed me onto another wagon where I was covered with sacks. I never saw the face of my new friend. All I could think of was how cold and thirsty I was. How I had to hold my bladder and how unclean I felt. When the wagon came to a halt the driver pulled the sacks off me and lifted me out of the dust-filled wagon. Time blurred, days became nights and nights became days. My mind was numb and my body exhausted beyond understanding. I was passed from wagon to wagon constantly on the move, eating and drinking whatever food was given to me and sleeping in the wagons. The only break I got was when I needed to relieve myself. It seemed I would never reach the North, but for the fact that total strangers, nameless friends who
Leaving Emma
Leaving Emma by Nancy Steele Brokaw; Clarion Books: New York, 1999; $15 Having a best friend can make a kid feel like she’s on top of the world. I know, because I have had the same best friend since I was less than two years old. But if something should happen with that best friend, and especially if she were your only friend, it could be terrifying. In Nancy Steele Brokaw’s book, Leaving Emma, terrified is just how Emma feels when her best friend Tem announces that she has to move at the end of the school year. To make matters worse, Emma’s father tells her that he has to go far away for five months and Emma’s mom is so absorbed in her own problems that she can’t even help. Emma feels as though her life is wrecked. Tumbling even further down from her perfect perch, Emma has to deal with dreaded Great-Aunt Grace who played music that “sounded exactly like those old monster movies when the lights in the castle go out, and the thunder crashes all around, and someone is about to be killed.” Emma can’t even tolerate when Aunt Grace comes to dinner! In order to deal with the fear and anger of everyone leaving her, Emma manages to patch together a few talents she barely knew she had. By making some new friends who share her love of art and by confronting other problems, Emma makes it through some difficult times and comes out more than OK. Emma even figures out a way to replace one after-school activity which she had been doing merely to please her father with another activity which she loved, was good at and received much praise for. The characters in Leaving Emma could be typical people in your own neighborhood. Emma describes one nasty girl, Meagan VanHook, as “the most beautiful, talented, intelligent girl in Northpoint Middle School, and if you weren’t sure about that, you could just ask her.” Throughout the story, Brokaw’s vivid descriptions of feelings and situations seem very realistic. Writing “whatever color concrete was, that was the color of my thoughts” made me really understand Emma’s melancholy. Leaving Emma is studded with laughs and thoughts which come together to make this a good book. I would never have chosen this book myself, yet I am glad that I read it and hope you will enjoy it, too. This book is for anyone who enjoys reading about kid problems and has a good sense of humor. Amanda Claire Gutterman, 8Washington, D.C.
Robbie
“Here we are then,” said Mother happily, at the same time tipping the cab, hoisting our luggage out of the trunk, and brushing her hair aside impatiently. “Go on in and set yourself up, darling . . . I’ll be a minute.” I nodded, then skipped up to the door; it looked about to fall off its rusting hinges. Pausing for a minute, I grasped the cool metal doorknob as I glanced hurriedly around. The grass was a pleasant shade of green, patched in some places with a prairie yellow. To the far left, I spotted a small creek, chuckling as though sharing a private joke with itself. There were bushes lining our new home, if you could call it new. The white paint was peeling, and most windows had only one green shutter (I wondered idly where the others were). And then there were the trees. Scattered haphazardly among flower beds and grasses, they seemed so energetic and alive I expected them to pull up their roots and run joyously down the twisting, dusty dirt path. Pausing for a minute, I grasped the cool metal doorknob as I glanced hurriedly around Shaking myself, I turned the doorknob and stepped into the damp, refreshing air of the house. The wooden boards underfoot creaked as I moved slowly to my new bedroom. The bed had been made up in lavender sheets; in the far corner stood a sturdy desk and, next to it, an empty bookshelf. A slight breeze ruffled the drapes by the window, and I turned my attention to it. Walking over, I leaned over the windowsill and found myself . . . staring into the eyes of a boy. For some reason, I was not in the least surprised, and could not tear my gaze away from his eyes. They were wild, and mischievous, glowing greener than a thousand emeralds. His black hair was askew, flying in all directions, but somehow managing to leave his ears sticking straight out from his head, in plain sight. Quite unexpectedly, he grinned at me, wrinkling his already hilarious features into an absurd expression. I found myself grinning back—for some reason I liked him. “What’s your name?” he asked abruptly. “Patricia,” I replied. “OK, Patch,” he said, grinning again. “Well, what’s your name?” I asked him, a little put out at my new nickname. “Robbie.” For no reason at all, we both broke into giggles, laughing so hard that Robbie almost fell off the windowsill. I laughed harder. When at last we had quieted down, I asked him why he had been at my window. “I heard tell someone was movin’ in; I’m the curious type” . . . here he blushed . . . “so I thought I’d, y’know, check it out.” I nodded slowly, accepting his explanation. We were quiet for a moment, until he said mischievously, “Y’know, if you push the window up more, you could jump out real easy. Not far to the ground.” I caught his hint, smiled slowly, went up to the window and vaulted straight out, landing with a thud in some grass. Robbie laughed as I got up and brushed myself off; I scowled at him, and he tried to turn the laugh into a cough. “Well, what now, Patch?” he asked. “I dunno. I’m new here. Why don’t you show me around?” “Follow me,” he replied, and dashed off toward the woods. I sighed, picked up my skirts, and hurried after. * * * By the end of the day, I was a complete mess. I had sap on my hands from climbing numerous trees, grass-stained knees, twigs and leaves in my hair from crawling through a secret passage of bushes Robbie had made, smudges on my skirt and bruises everywhere. It was painful to walk, even. Mother took one look at me and started filling the bathtub with water. As I was attempting (unsuccessfully) to rub the grass stains off, I told her about my day. When I was finished, she nodded, then disappeared into the hallway. Presently she returned, holding a beaten-up pair of pants. “I think it would be best, Patricia . . .” “Patch,” I corrected automatically. “All right then, Patch. I believe it would be best for you to wear these” . . . holding up the pants . . . “from now on.” She ruefully gazed at my ripped dress. “OK, Mother,” I said happily, wrapping a towel around myself and skipping off to my room. Quickly, I put on my favorite pajamas with clouds on them, then ran into the kitchen for a hurried dinner. Soon after I was in bed, with Mother kissing me goodnight. “See you in the morning . . . Patch,” she whispered. I giggled as she left the room. Today had been the best day of my entire life. I had done so many things I never even knew I could do—but, more than that, I had made a true friend. In the city, I can’t count on anyone for anything. But I knew I could trust Robbie. * * * I awoke the next morning to a .1. world wreathed in rosy shadows. I slipped out of bed, shivered in the cold air once or twice, and then practically jumped into my new pants. Not wanting to wake Mother, I lowered myself cautiously out of the window and then tiptoed away to meet Robbie at the creek. When I arrived, he was making boats out of weeds and grass, then sending them on their way along the twisting water. ” ‘ello,” he greeted me, jumping to his feet, and before I could say anything, he ran off, yelling over his shoulder, “C’mere. I wanna show you something.” Smiling to myself, I dashed after him. It wasn’t far. Just beyond the first few lines of trees, past an abandoned flower bed, and around three berry bushes was a very tall tree. Lichen covered it (along with ivy) from head to
Wings of Water
I was out on my boat, the Eaglet, for what seemed the millionth time that summer. Once more, my dad and brother had persuaded me to come out and try to water-ski again. I was standing in the middle of my boat, staring at the slightly rippling water, and wishing I had stayed home with my mom instead of coming out on the river. The murky, brown waters of the mighty Mississippi stared back at me, as if challenging me to jump in. I involuntarily shivered. I turned toward my dad and said, “Dad, can’t I try this some other time?” He sighed, “Emily, won’t you please try again? Tonight might be the night you get up! Even Jacob wants you to try,” he pleaded with me. My brother Jacob gave me his most pitiful, puppy-dog look. I realized I had lost the argument. Even so, I thought, I’m only seven years old! How am I supposed to do this?! I heaved a big sigh and started to get my two wooden water skis out. When I had them out, I gingerly lowered myself into the murky Waters of the river. I sucked in my breath as the cold water swirled around my body. My dad carefully gave me one ski. I twisted and turned as I fought with the current to get it on. Finally, my foot slid into place. My dad threw the other ski to me, and I went through the same ordeal to get it on. Then, it slid into place too. I couldn’t believe what I had been missing all these years My dad tossed me the rope. “Remember, bend your knees, and keep your skis in front of you. Just stand up and let the boat do all the work. You can do it, Em!” The motor hummed as my dad turned the key. The boat slowly started to pick up the slack on the rope. As it tightened, I tried to remember all the things that my dad had told me, but they seemed to have flown from my head. Finally, the rope was tight. I felt like I was dreaming. Distantly, I heard my dad shouting, “Just yell when you’re ready to go!” I took a deep breath, and wondering if I would ever do this, filled my lungs with air and hollered, “Hit it!” There was a roar as the engine sped up, and water was flying into my face. I gritted my teeth, and grimly hung on for dear life as I started to rise out of the water. Suddenly, it was over, and I was skimming across the water! I couldn’t believe it! I shouted from pure triumph and joy, while in the Eaglet my brother and dad were jumping up and down, waving their arms and yelling. On my face was a huge grin. I felt as if I was on top of the world! I couldn’t believe what I had been missing all these years. The spray, the roar of the motor, and wind whipping across my face were all part of my total happiness. I felt as if I were flying. On my face was a happy smile as I soared off into the sunset on the wings of water. Emily Heninger, 11Bettendorf, Iowa Susie Speicher, 13Lakewood, Washington
The Wild Mare
For the men the day had started a few hours before. The men worked for hours. Instead of a few hours to the men it felt like years. When the men came home the women’s day started. They cooked and cleaned for hours. To the women the hours felt like years. When the people lay down on their fluffy beds to sleep the animals’ day began. They hunted, nursed, and dodged their enemy. They did this for hours. To the animals it felt like years. The hours were years to the people and animals. Everyone wanted a horse to ride. They were slick and much faster than walking. Out in the open, a white-silver mare roamed around in circles, charging every movement. Her mother had been captured and forced to leave her foal. The mare was so beautiful the people all wanted to capture her and tame her too. The snow was Mother Earth’s protection for the mare. The mare was hard to find because of her white coat. Some people called the mare Silver Ghost. Some called her The Snow Goddess. Others call her Snowflake. But no matter what you call her she will capture your eyes and hide them in her flaky mane. The mare and foal didn’t need to worry about men anymore The mare was not just beautiful and fluffy and soft, but she was as fast as the wind, as slick as a fox, and as quiet as the dead. Many men had tried to capture her with tricks and food. But the mare had learned about the tricks and was too smart for the foolish men. But she had to deal with one problem. Winter. Though the crystal trees and blankets of fluffy white snow were beautiful, the mare had to find food. She had two hard choices: she could either go down low near her enemy, men, or go up high where men were not likely to come but there was less food. One winter the mare had made the choice of going near men. The first day the mare stayed up in the mountains. The second day she went to graze in the furthest place from men where there was grass. The grass freshened up the mare’s mouth. In the summer the men came often to the grassy place. The mare was white and couldn’t use camouflage then. Every day the mare hoped for mist. She would run into the mist and disappear like a ghost. But not every day was a storm of mist bound to come. The men would come and go. The mare became tired out. The mare was expecting a foal. The men knew now that they could capture her. When the foal was born she got started with its lessons of survival. The mare showed the foal the good foods and the bad food. She also taught the foal how to escape traps and how to avoid traps. The men were amazed. The mare was impossible to capture. The men couldn’t stay by the mare forever. Their food was running out. They had no choice but to leave. They had to leave the land. They did the mare a great favor. The mare and foal didn’t need to worry about men anymore. But the mare kept teaching her foal to avoid men and their traps and harm. The foal won’t be captured, thought the mare. It was quite unlikely for the mare’s baby to be captured because his mom was the great top horse of the land. But one day the mare had to let the foal go. Now full-grown, he had to leave. Neither the mare nor the mare’s son wanted to leave one another, but the mare knew her son’s life would not be complete if they stayed together forever. The mare was weak. It was her turn to leave the crystal mountains and never-ending valleys. She had lived a life of freedom. She could be free forever, but she could not live forever. Emily Villano, 7Rochester, New York Lina Kavaliunas, 9Hoffman Estates, Illinois
Beethoven’s Bargain
He was a strange boy. Some people would say that he was a loner. He usually went his own way and stayed away from others. Nobody knew why. A quiet, sad boy, he hardly ever said much and so he had trouble making friends. But he was smart, very smart. He knew more than he ever revealed. It seemed like he had some kind of deep, dark secret that he kept to himself. Nobody could really understand him, but they were interested in the mystery of him. People came over to his house and rang the bell, but nobody ever answered it. The only time you could see the boy would be at midnight when he was sitting on the lawn looking up at the stars. He never spoke. He just stared at people in the oddest way. Some people believe that he took drugs and drank alcohol. On some nights you could hear him scream. It wasn’t a scream of pain or terror, but more like a long wail, one note, deep and dark like that of a foghorn calling out across a vast sea. If anything, it was a chant echoing distant and lonely. He lived a few houses down from mine and that night, that one night, I heard him. Was he calling out to someone? To me? I decided to find out and so I walked toward it. When I approached the house, I saw a single light on through a small window. As I got closer, I could see him clearly. He was playing the piano. He was lively and quick on the keys, wild, his hair flying everywhere. The music shook the house. . . . in one smooth gesture he threw the book in the air Suddenly, I sneezed. The boy flipped around on the bench and yelled, “Hey you!” I dashed away from the window and ran home. I didn’t see him again for some time but he haunted my mind like a ghost. I knew that I had to find out more about this mysterious neighbor, but I was afraid. He reminded me of a young, mad Beethoven alone in his room. I even expected to see his piano lying flat on the floor with its legs cut off and him with his ear close to the ground listening to the vibrations of the music. Who was this young boy? And why was he so strange? I had to know. For a while I forgot about it, but one day when I least expected it, I saw him again. It was in the park close to my home. I was sitting on a bench reading and enjoying the warm weather. As I looked up, I saw him in the distance. My first instinct was to leave, but something kept me there. The boy got closer and closer and then he stopped and stared at me for a long time. I wanted to run but I could not turn away. He started to walk slowly toward me and stopped a few feet away. He was carrying a book and I was close enough to see the title. I couldn’t believe my eyes. The title of the book was “Simon.” I stared at him and back at the book. The boy slowly walked away, stopped, looked back at me, smiling, and in one smooth gesture threw the book in the air. It flew! Up, up, up beyond the clouds. I watched it. It was amazing as it came down, slowly, inch by inch, and settled right into my lap. I looked at the boy. He had disappeared! I didn’t know what to think or what I was feeling and so I sat there for what seemed an eternity. The book lay on my lap. There was no mistake about it. On the cover was written “Simon” in the handwriting of a young child. My hand trembled as I carefully opened it. “My name is Simon. I am eleven years old and this is my story. I am a child of the late twentieth century, born in a time when the century and the world were about to change. “I missed most of the last hundred years, a period in history of many wars, disasters, but also of triumphs. I have heard my parents talking about all the good and evil of this time, of peace and war. Millions of innocent people were killed all over the world. The planet became polluted. Natural disasters destroyed cities and countries. There were revolutions, assassinations, inventions that saved lives and others that threatened to destroy the earth. Man walked on the moon and we looked for strangers from other worlds but never found any. These and other countless victories and defeats were part of the century I missed. I am the child of parents who were a part of these events and I learned about them through their eyes. “Together we now face the future and no one knows what the twenty-first century will bring. I will be twelve years old when it begins. I will grow up and die in the twenty-first century. During that time, I hope that the world will be a better place . . .” I stopped reading. I felt as if I was in a time warp. I certainly never wrote that story, but it was about me. It gave me the shivers. My mind raced. I started to sweat and shake. Was I in a nightmare? I was about to throw the book away but thought better of it. I put it in my bag and walked away trying to pretend that nothing out of the ordinary had happened. That night, I couldn’t sleep. I decided to write a note: Who are you? Where did you come from? Why did you write to me. What do you want? Simon I took the note, snuck out of the house in the cover of darkness to his house. There was a
Summer Hawk
Summer Hawk by Deborah Savage; Houghton Mifflin Company: Boston, 1999; $16 Have you ever been in a situation you hate? This is exactly what happens to the main character, Melissa. Melissa is unhappy, living in the small rural community of Hunter’s Gap, Pennsylvania. She dislikes the people of Hunter’s Gap because she considers them small-minded and bigoted, and she longs for the happy, privileged life that she left behind in Philadelphia. Right away, I was able to identify with Melissa’s situation because I once lived in New York City, and after moving to suburban Virginia with my parents, I missed living in the city also. I found it hard to believe, though, that Melissa’s classmates could be so backwards in their thinking. For example one day Melissa brought up the subject of Bosnia in history class and one of the students thought that Bosnia was a city in Massachusetts! The other kids in her school didn’t seem to care much about education, and they constantly made fun of Melissa’s mother, who was a psychoanalyst. They joked that she was a psychopath. It was easy for me to understand why Melissa must have felt like she was surrounded by Martians. One character in the book that I found inspiring was Rail Bogart. It seemed that Melissa secretly admired Rail but would not admit it to herself because she considered him to be just a backwards country boy. I thought this was kind of snobbish of her to treat him so coldly. He was definitely different from the other kids in Hunter’s Gap. Also, I think that he really wanted to be friends with her. If I knew a boy like Rail, I wouldn’t push him away like Melissa did at first. But as I read on in the story, I was happy to see that she finally developed a close friendship with him. The character that I found the oddest of all was the wildlife biologist the townspeople call the “Hawk Lady.” At one point Melissa finds an injured baby hawk that she takes to the Hawk Lady. This eventually leads them to have a close friendship. Quite frankly, though, I questioned the sincerity of the Hawk Lady, because she had an affair with Melissa’s father, who happened to still be married to Melissa’s mother. This really made me angry! In the end, however, Melissa reconciles her friendship with the Hawk Lady, and even though I wouldn’t have, I found Summer Hawk to be a contemporary and memorable story; a story that showed me the power of love and friendship and the necessity for forgiveness. Victoria Gillette, 12Virginia Beach, Virginia
Hawaiian Hurricane
INTRODUCTION I love the beach. It’s my home, and I’m proud of it. I love to run on the beach and then dive into the sand and feel the warmth soothe my body. I love to feel the waves ripple on my toes. This is my home, Maui, Hawaii. Sure, it’s a big tourist place, but I don’t care. I also love the animals. There’s so many dolphins, whales, birds and fish, nobody could be happier. That’s why I never wanted to leave. * * * CHAPTER ONE THE MIRACLE Whoosh! The waves splashed against my boat. I laughed as my hair flew all around my face. It was one of those nice, hot summer days. There was a strong breeze, so it was perfect weather for sailing. The air smelled like plumeria flowers. I was out in my boat, sailing in the ocean. I glided for a while in the peaceful waves. Suddenly, a grayish, triangle-shaped figure popped up from the waves, right next to my boat. Then another one popped up! And another! Before I knew it, there were seven of them. I slowed down my speed. I knew what those figures were. My favorite animal on earth gracefully leaped into the air. It was a dolphin. This has got to be a dream, I thought, this is too wonderful to be happening to me The dolphin thrashed its tail in the air as it flew over my boat. SPLASH! It dove back into the water. Then, all of the dolphins raised their heads above the water. They chirped, and at that moment, I could feel all of their joy. Trust and happiness rushed through my body, and I could feel it pouring into my heart. Two ropes that were connected to my boat fell into the water. Instantly, two dolphins grabbed onto the ropes. They swam as fast as they could, pulling my boat along with them. We soared through the water. The wind tore at my face. It blew my hair behind my shoulders. I never wanted this moment to end. It was a miracle! I’d never been this close to dolphins before! An hour went by of sailing with the dolphins. I knew that it was time for them to leave when they clapped their flippers. I leaned over the edge of my boat to touch the dolphin’s back. I leaned out too far, so SPLASH! I fell into the ocean. Luckily I was in my bathing suit. Water poured into my eyes. I struggled around, gasping for air and trying to find something to grab onto. I felt something rubbery. Well, it was something, so I grabbed onto it. I wiped off my eyes, and saw that I had grabbed onto one of the dolphin’s dorsal fins. Then another dolphin swam under my open legs. It lifted me up into the air. Now I was actually on a dolphin. I let go of the other dolphin’s fin and grabbed onto the dolphin’s fin that I was sitting on. Then the dolphin suddenly raced forward. I almost fell off of him! The other dolphins swam on either side of me, as if for extra protection. I zoomed through the water. This has got to be a dream, I thought, this is too wonderful to be happening to me. The dolphins that were swimming next to me jumped in the air. After a long time of riding the dolphins (it seemed like just minutes of riding), the dolphins brought me back to my boat. Then they grabbed onto the ropes again and brought me back to shore. It had been the best moment of my life. * * * CHAPTER TWO BAD NEWS “Mom! Dad!” I yelled. I slammed the door behind me. I couldn’t wait to tell my parents about the miracle. My mom walked into the room I was in. “Oh, Mom!” I told her. “You won’t believe what just happened! There were dolphins in the water, and they . . .” “Start packing, Sunny,” she interrupted. “You can tell me your little story later. Right now I want you to start packing.” I was puzzled. “Where are we going?” My mom tried to look sympathetic. “Oh honey. Your father and I thought that you were spending too much time in the ocean. We are going to move to Montana for a year and see how it works. Also, your father got offered a very good job there.” “You’re kidding, right?” I asked. She smiled. “No, I am sorry.” Suddenly I got a very sick feeling in my stomach. I raced to our bathroom and threw up. I sank down and sat on the toilet. How could they do this to me? Tear me apart from my life? I was just about to go into sixth grade. My best friend Lydia would need me! They weren’t my real parents anyway. They adopted me. If only my real parents were alive, they wouldn’t wreck my life. Mom walked into the bathroom. She smiled like everything was normal. I glared at her. I got up to leave and stormed out of the room. * * * Up in my room I turned on the radio. They talked about some hurricane coming this way. Oh, well. It was probably just another fake call. Last week they had my “parents” scared because of a false alarm. I pulled out a suitcase and my backpack. I started packing. I wasn’t packing to go to Montana though. I was running away. * * * CHAPTER THREE LEAVING Today was the day. I was running away. I woke up and acted normal. I ate an extremely big breakfast. Then when my parents were packing in their room, I raced out of the house. My suitcase was luckily lightweight and easy to carry, while my backpack was heavier. I walked down to our dock and got into my boat. I put on a life vest. I checked my pocket to
A Girl with Red Hair Is Nice to Know!
One day at school Sister Rachel, our teacher, asked for a volunteer to read out loud. A girl named Cindy raised her hand. Cindy was a shy, quiet girl who always sat on her hands. She had short reddish hair and a twitch in her eye when she was nervous, which was most of the time. I knew Cindy was proud of herself for raising her hand. Sister Rachel looked at Cindy with her eyes wide and bulgy. Cindy started to read the paragraph. When she came to the last sentence on the page she read, “A girl with red hair is nice.” Cindy was unaware that the words “to know” were on the next page, finishing the sentence. Sister Rachel said, “Yes . . . a girl with red hair is nice . . . what!” Cindy repeated, “A girl with red hair is nice.” I took a deep breath and lunged across the aisle Sister Rachel let out a big disgusted sigh. Cindy knew she was in big trouble! Now she was sweating like a sprinkler. She looked at me from across the aisle. I whispered, “To know.” She stared at me with a puzzled face. She looked at the girl on the other side of the aisle. That girl said softly, “To know.” Cindy looked back over at me, now in a panic. Her eye was twitching like a rabbit’s nose. Sister Rachel was walking slowly down the aisle. She was breathing fire, and smoke was coming out of her ears!!! She was ready to blow! Cindy’s salvation was only a page away. I took a deep breath and lunged across the aisle. In an instant I turned the page under Cindy’s nervous nose. The light bulb finally went on in her head! Cindy yelled, “To know. A girl with red hair is nice to know!!!” The bell rang and we all filed out of class. Cindy and I looked at each other and broke into laughter. For a moment we were the world’s best friends. She and I were very different people, but from then on we looked at each other with new eyes. A girl with “reddish” hair was nice to know. Annika Thomas, 11Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania Kate Engel, 13Ojai, California
Forgive Me
Something so strong, Not the sharpest knife could spear, Not the heaviest club could knock out, Not the strongest python could strangle, But with one word I detached our friendship. Now I must ask forgiveness. Deep as the ocean, Meaningful as a smile, I must ask forgiveness. I must stitch together the wide rip, With words so powerful, Lions will bow down. Zoe Paschkis, 12Newton, Massachusetts
