Subscribe Donate

100% written and illustrated by kids ages 6-13


By

Z

The sun gently warmed the earth. The squirrels were hopeful waking up. Peeking out, softly, just enough to see snow, always snow. The cold cracked their dry noses harder than a bad nut. Slowly, reluctantly, shades went up in houses. Pulled up by invisible hands. People, chained to their beds by the relentless cold. Ice-lined windows stared out defiantly, still believing that spring would come. Then their inhabitants would, once again, take pleasure in looking out of them at the beautiful vista of the park beyond. A girl scurried out from her bed, not in one of the surrounding houses, but in a building within the park itself. She wore a thick brown coat, a barrier against the frost. Her dark hair was all but lost under a densely knitted hat the color of roasting chestnuts. Turning, she looked with dark amber eyes at the park, her conquered territory. The carriages started to wake up, eagerly awaiting their morning meal of people and elbow grease. The clacking rose from the streets, a pleasant sound that would go on all day, lulling people to sleep at sundown. The girl in the brown coat flew across the road into a small bakery across the street. Disappearing inside, she appeared a few minutes later with a hot cup of tea and something in a happy-looking brown bag. Silently, she slipped back into the park through the forgotten back gate. Lowering herself lightly onto a bench, she promptly started to eat. The mist from her tea obscured her face for a moment. They were from two different worlds, but as they talked they found that they fit The main gates of the park open at eight, she thought to herself, I have some time. Church bells rang across the city. Calling proudly to everyone that it was eight o’clock. Now everything was awake. She dove behind a bush as the absentminded constable walked by to open up the park. He always forgot to close the back entrance, which was her way in and out. He unlocked the heavy iron bolt with a large tarnished key, which turned with a protesting moan. The floodgate opened and people started to flow in. Ladies in big dresses full of lace, still ignorant of the fact that you do not wear white in midwinter when the snow has lost its sheen. Looking out from behind her nook in the bush, she saw a seated girl about her own age, staring at an old oak tree, absently turning something in her hands. The girl’s pale blond hair was luminous but her face was still, missing its light. Unfurling herself from her hiding place, brushing the snow off her knitted hat, she walked over to the girl on the bench and perched next to her. “What is your name?” she asked the sad girl curiously. “Celia, and yours?” the girl said, still not blinking, her pale hair wafting in the breeze, almost blending with the weather. Amber eyes shining, the girl whose home was the park responded, “Just call me Z.” Celia was a child of privilege but neglected. Her parents only seemed to care about money and lush parties. She was lonely, trapped in an endless expanse of riches, dances, and emptiness. Z was as mysterious as her name—a single letter that gave nothing away. But she had a warm heart and a quick mind. Everything she knew she had found out for herself. They were from two different worlds, but as they talked they found that they fit. Like two sides to the same person. The next day Celia came back. A pattern arose. Celia would come and bring Z food in return for knowledge about the park. Z taught Celia about the birds that lived in the crackling bushes and the ones that lived in the snow-heavy trees. Z showed her the ancient stone toolshed that she lived in at night, and Celia started to feel that she had a place in this world. One day, when the few brave flowers were beginning to crack through the slowly defrosting ground, Celia asked Z if she ever got lonely in the park without a family. Z mysteriously invited her to come and see for herself that night, saying that the park was far more beautiful then. The park was just beginning to change from day into night. The animals and people were changing shifts. Birds were settling down in their nests for a cold sleep where they would dream of what it would be like when spring finally came. The bats were taking to the air, their wings making the sound of a late river. Fast and unsteady. The robbers of the daytime, squirrels, were being replaced by the thieves of the night, raccoons. Their masks slipped permanently over their faces, their satchels on their backs, they stalked out of their houses to find anything unlucky enough to be dropped in their way. The constable took up his shift as the night watchman. Immediately after the other guard had left he fell into a deep sleep. Celia and Z slipped in the back entrance, unseen. They walked along the main path, devoid of all other human life, deep into the park. The only sounds were those of the chirping crickets and soft rustling of raccoons furtively stealing somebody else’s dinner. Finally they arrived at a big clearing with the old oak tree in the center. Z made a long, low whistle and people started appearing out of the trees. They gathered around and Z introduced Celia. They made a fire and started to tell stories, stories about finding beauty in the relentless cold and frost. Tales of finding truth in the very flowers that grew on the ground. Stories about themselves and how they had found that the most beautiful thing was propping each other up in times of trouble. This is why they gathered in the park at night when it had emptied, a large family,


By

Little Miracles

We all think we are important. But if we weren’t here the world would still turn the sun would still rise most people’s lives wouldn’t change. The world doesn’t need us. Some people many people sit and think about it. They only see that the whole wide world doesn’t need them and don’t see that they need the world for them to feel better for them to get better. I am one of those people. I try to conjure up a lifeline that I can hang onto. But sometimes, the school bell just rang and I’m alone standing waiting for the light to change so I can cross. And a car passes by me, so close that I can almost touch it. And I think of how easy it would be to step forward to fall. I have to focus on creating a lifeline, something that stops me from falling. I am afraid that one day that lifeline will snap I will fall I won’t stop myself. But I hold on. I find the small things that give me a lifeline. The little miracles in life that make it worth living. Have you ever seen a bird take off, bursting into the air? Or felt the joy when a child takes his first step? Living things are miracles. We all have something to give to the world. Something that the world needs. These words, they are my gift to you. They are my gift to the world. Sylvia Gibson, 13Mill Valley, California


By

Home

Taja closed her eyes and took in the nauseating smell of smokers and mothballs. She knew this smell. All buses smelled like this, and normally, it didn’t bother Taja. But today, it reminded her of her parents. Her parents who took her on bus rides every Saturday to go to the Indian market she loved. The swirling chaos of it all, vendors sitting under tarps showing off their products, the spicy smell of chicken masala, the sweet and salty smell of chaat, filling Taja’s nose. She could taste the sweet honey from her favorite dessert, gulab jamun, on her tongue. She could feel the sponginess on her teeth. She remembered it all so clearly. Taja clutched her bus seat, her nails digging into the cheap leather. She felt very small. She stared out the window, sensing the urge to get off at the next stop, 14th Street, and make her way to the barren marketplace. “You have no right to say no to foreign customers, you little rascal!” It had been years since she had been to the market. The last time, she had been with her parents, holding their hands tightly. Taja sniffled. The sun was hurting her eyes, and all she wanted to do was crawl under the bus seat. The Indian vendors had left three years ago. Taja remembered reading in the newspaper about the plans to turn the marketplace into a bowling alley. When the city council had finally kicked the Indian vendors away, sending them back to their country, it became obvious that there was not enough money for the bowling alley. Deep down, Taja wished that the bowling alley had been built; it would stop her mind from returning to her parents and India. Of course, if the Indian market still existed, maybe life wouldn’t be so melancholy either. *          *          * Taja arrived at the King Soopers fifteen minutes later. She stepped down the bus stairs and crossed the street to the big store. Shopping carts were stacked in rows in front of the two big doors. Taja found that the King Soopers was very convenient, it was right next to her university. She could do her grocery shopping, then go straight to classes where she majored in biology. Taja grabbed a shopping basket, then went into the store, directly to the frozen-food aisle, to get the most important food: naan. She reached into the cool fridge, goosebumps crawling up her arms. She pulled out her favorite brand. Over the years, she had tried them all. None of them were the same as the steaming hot, real naan that used to be sold at the market. The microwavable kind would have to do. Setting it into the basket, she made her way to the vegetable aisle to get some spinach. She would make saag paneer that night. Taja remembered her last year of high school. The last year her parents would make her saag paneer. “We want you to get a good education, Taja,” her mother had said. “We will return to India for you. We will pay for you to follow your dream. Life here is expensive. In India, we can live for a lower cost, while you go to college. Taja, if you go to college, you could get a real job. You could make money, and one day, pay to return home to us!” Taja had swallowed her paneer and looked down. “OK, Mama,” she had said. Taja pushed the memory to the back of her head and continued down the aisle to go buy spices. Once her basket was full, Taja headed down to the cashier. She placed her items on the dusty conveyor belt and opened her handmade wallet her mother had sent her from India. The cashier looked up. “Where are you from?” he asked suspiciously. “I’m from India,” Taja replied. “India, huh?” “Yes, what’s wrong with that?” Taja asked. But the cashier didn’t answer. He stood up from his stool and bent down over Taja. His height was threatening. “I don’t serve Indian customers here!” he bellowed. “You don’t belong here, go back to your own country! I don’t want your dirty little bodies in this store, so get out! Hand over those groceries and get out!” Taja couldn’t believe his painful words. She stepped back from the counter, holding back the hot tears. She clutched her wallet, and gulped. The cashier glared at Taja, waiting to pounce on his prey. Then a lady with light blond hair and a huge cart full of food placed her hand on Taja’s shoulder. “You have no right to say no to foreign customers, you little rascal! This poor girl just needs some food!” The lady’s voice was louder and sterner than Taja expected. “I expect you to give her the food for free as an apology for what you just said. Seriously.” “You think you can boss a cashier around?” “Do I need to call the police?” The cashier, obviously taken by surprise, swallowed, then nodded. He grabbed Taja’s groceries, swiped them under the scanner, and never asked for the fifteen dollars they cost. Taja tried to thank the woman, but she never looked up from the edition of People she was about to purchase. *          *          * Taja left the store full of mixed feelings. Grateful, sad, mad, excited, relieved. Walking down the sidewalk towards her school, Taja looked down at her feet. Her long black hair shimmered in the sun, and all she could think about was returning to India. One more year of college, a few more years of working, then she could buy a ticket home. Home. No, Taja shook her head. This was her home. This was her home ever since she and her family had moved here in search of a better life. This was her home ever since she was a short little five-year-old, mesmerized by the tall buildings, the flushing toilets, the greasy hamburgers that didn’t exist in her


By

The Way Back Home

“Hey look, everybody! It’s the loser! Hey shrimp, how’s your dad doing?” Joey hooted and pointed a grubby finger at Finn, who stood horrified as the group of kids on the playground laughed. Finn lowered his head and pretended not to hear them as he walked slowly off the playground and back to the classroom. Don’t listen to them, he thought to himself. None of them knew what it was like not to have a father. He wished he were brave enough to fight back against Joey and the others who constantly bullied and harassed him. But this was a low blow. Why did Joey have to keep bringing up the fact that he didn’t have a dad? “Everything OK?” Mrs. Simons, his sixth-grade teacher, asked him kindly as he walked into the classroom. “Yep,” he said with a fake smile. The last thing he needed was for Mrs. Simons to get involved in his problems. It would just make everything worse. He looked at the clock. It was two o’clock. Just an hour left to go, he thought to himself… *          *          * Finn trudged up the hill to the secluded cottage he shared with his mom. It looked welcoming and warm, but there was never anyone inside to greet him. His mother worked very hard all day as a waitress, so Finn was always home alone. He knew his mother loved him, but she really wasn’t able to show it much because of her long hours away trying to support the both of them. Just an hour left to go, he thought to himself… Finn’s father had died when he was seven. He had no memories of his dad at all. Finn plopped his satchel onto the kitchen table and looked in the refrigerator for something to eat. There wasn’t much, but he pulled out a rather bruised apple and found some peanut butter in the pantry. Finn’s cottage was on the outskirts of town and was surrounded by forest that went on for hundreds of miles into the Canadian Yukon Territory. Finn loved going out and exploring the vast expanse of trees and finding cozy spots to relax and daydream. This is where Finn felt most at home. He could always find his way back, since he kept a self-drawn map that he had made a year ago. There were so many animals, streams, and rocks to play among. Finn never got tired of the woods. He was also an expert tree climber and would take his binoculars up a tree and perch himself up high to watch birds and dream about being one so he could fly away. *          *          * Shortly after the sun had set that evening, Finn heard the distant sound of his mother calling out his name. He quickly ran back to his house, hoping his mother wasn’t worrying about him. He saw her in the little clearing around the house. She waved to Finn, but he didn’t wave back. He slowly walked towards his house and went inside. “Hi, honey,” Finn’s mom said in a tired voice, “how was school?” Finn didn’t answer. He said a quick good night to his mom, avoiding a kiss, and ran to his bed. He thought of his day at school and buried his face in his pillow. Finn fell asleep to his own sobs. Crash! Finn abruptly woke to the sound of a pot falling to the ground. He climbed out of bed and walked around the half-wall, rubbing his droopy eyelids to wake himself up. “Sorry, Finn,” his mom said from a few yards away. “Thanks a lot, Mom!” Finn shouted. “This was my only day to sleep in and you woke me up. I’m going out to the forest to get some peace and quiet!” “Finn, I don’t want you going out there today,” his mom argued. “You were out there all day yesterday! You need to get some rest.” “You won’t even be here to see if I decide to go out there or not! You’re never even here with me. Go ahead and leave, Mom, it would be the same here without you!” Finn shouted. “You don’t even love me! I feel better when I’m out in the forest and not cooped up here with you; I’m leaving for good!” Finn bolted out the door and sprinted all the way into the trees. He didn’t turn around to see his mom’s face streaming with tears. *          *          * Finn was so in the moment that he forgot his map, binoculars, and shoes. He knew one way he wasn’t going, and that was back. It was already really late; Finn had been running and hiking for several hours. It was getting dark quickly. He’d have to make a shelter soon. Things started to seem spooky as he collected leaves and sticks. Finn wasn’t sure if he had ever ventured out this far. He could barely find anything to make a fire, let alone make a whole shelter. He decided to go up in a tree to try to find a comfortable spot to sleep. He finally found a thick branch that was sturdy and fell asleep. Finn’s dreams were a jumble of voices, whispering to him about having no parents and no one to love him. He tossed and turned all night, nearly falling off the branch. He woke up with tears in his eyes and a sore back. Swinging off onto the ground, he sniffed the air. His nose shriveled in disgust. The stench was coming from his own dirty clothes, so he set off to find some fresh water. Soon he found a gurgling creek with crystal clear water. He got in with his clothes on to wash himself and his clothes at the same time. Since he had no parents, he had no rules. As he stepped out of the creek, his stomach grumbled in protest. Finn realized he hadn’t eaten in a really long time, so


By

Frolic

A mound of fur, tongues, tails, clumsy paws, and deep brown eyes, laughing with the ecstasy of play The heap seems its own creature, without distinction between separate bodies Teeth nip, paws bat, tongues kiss, tails flash from side to side, a blur of pure happiness With playful growls and tackles and pounces, with not one care or worry, the play of puppies is beautiful to behold Katie Thomas, 12Standish, Maine


By

My Cousin’s Keeper

My Cousin’s Keeper, by Simon French; Candlewick Press: Massachusetts, 2014; $16.99 Do you know what it feels like to be bullied? Have you ever felt left out? These are questions that My Cousin’s Keeper forces the reader to consider. They are questions I never thought a lot about until I read this book. No book can be good unless it has interesting and inspiring characters. There are three important characters in the book. I was drawn into the story by the way these characters relate to each other. Their relationships made the message of the book jump off the pages and drew me into their world. Bon is the main character. He is ten years old. Bon moves in with his cousin, Kieran, and his family and is insecure because his mother is not responsible enough to take care of him. When Bon arrives at his new school he is bullied because he is different. He has a long braid and wears old clothes, which the kids tease him about. Bon’s experiences made me think of my own, and about how children learn about kindness and empathy. We sometimes think that school is just a place where we go to learn how to read or do math. But it is more than that. School is also where kids learn how to form friendships and deal with problems. It is a difficult place for kids, and people who aren’t bullied or treated poorly sometimes forget this. This story will remind kids who have to struggle at school, or even those who have no problems, how important it is to be aware of your fellow students. Not everyone at school bullies Bon. He has one friend who defends him. Julia is my favorite character in the book. I admired her because of her sense of justice and her strength. When you first meet Julia you would think she would want to fit in and not stand up to the bullies because she has a troubled life at home. Her mother kidnapped her from her father and she lives on the run. She is unhappy but doesn’t take this out on others. I was pleased and inspired by the way she defends Bon and acts as a peacekeeper. Bon also uses his imagination to escape the troubles in his life. He imagines himself as a brave crusader who gets help from “Kieran the brave” and “Julia the fair.” His uses his imagination to write these stories and gets lost in another world. Words have the power to make Bon forget about his troubled life, and I have learned that words can give you a sense of power. This was another part of the book that I enjoyed. It reminded me how important books and words can be for those who feel alone and troubled. Finally, when I read the book I thought of something I read when I was much younger by Henry David Thoreau: “If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music he hears, however measured or far away.’’ These are words I have tried to live by. They have also inspired me to be different and not to follow others. So if you’ve never asked yourself what it feels like to be bullied, or if you’ve always wanted to be yourself but were afraid, I recommend this book and maybe it can give you the drumbeat to march to your own music. Raiyah Patel, 10Gatineau, Quebec, Canada


By

The Girl Next Door

There are friends, and then there are arranged friends who you are friends with because of your parents, simple as that. The girl next door was next on my mom’s arranged friends list, and I wouldn’t have ever agreed to so-called hang out had I not needed a summer job and she needed a piano teacher. But, there was a minor detail that my mom had forgotten to mention. *          *          * “Oh! I didn’t mention it before, Hazel, but Via is blind. It might cause trouble with reading music, but I’m sure you can work around it,” Mom said, her fingers flying over her keyboard. The piano lesson was tomorrow morning and yet I hadn’t thought about it since the day Mom had finally convinced me to agree. I jerked up from the couch, tearing out my headphones. “What?” “Via, the girl next door, is blind. She’s been blind since birth, but her mother says she’s still a grade ahead in school.” Mom kept typing, her eyes scanning her computer. She paused and then kept typing, pursing her lips. “Mom!” I tossed my phone onto the couch and stood up, glaring at her. “Why don’t you ever tell me this stuff?” She kept typing. “Mom!” My voice got louder. With a resigned sigh, Mom looked up, raising an eyebrow. “I would have never agreed to this stupid job if you had told me that” “I know it might hinder your teaching a bit, but I assumed it wasn’t a big deal. Via is perfectly capable of learning the piano.” “I would have never agreed to this stupid job if you had told me that.” I folded my arms and scowled out the window, irritated words threatening to spill out. Outside, the blindingly bright sunshine blazed down on our front yard, the sky a dull gray despite the uncomfortable heat. I turned away from the window. “Why not?” Mom frowned. “She’s no different than any other kid.” It is different, I thought furiously. Completely. It will be awkward and weird and unnatural. On top of it being harder to teach, it will be impossible to talk about normal things. “Whatever,” I mumbled instead, dropping back onto the couch and glaring up at the ceiling. “It’s fine.” *          *          * The next morning I was awoken by a stream of light right on my face. Groaning, I shielded my eyes and sat up. The clock read half-past nine. In record time, I yanked on fresh clothes, raked a comb through my forever straight and boring dark hair, swished around a toothbrush, and headed upstairs. I sniffed the air, hoping for the scent of toast or pancakes, but it was odorless. The kitchen was deserted, a trail of crumbs and coffee stains the only hint of Mom and Dad passing through. Opening a box of cereal, I dumped it into a bowl of milk and started on the crispy flakes. “Hazel? You’re going over to Via’s at ten, right?” Dad poked his head in the kitchen, still in his pajamas and ratty slippers. “Oh, great. I mean, yes.” I forced a half-hearted smile. “At least you’re making good money.” He winked. “Don’t worry, it will be fun.” “If you say so,” I said dubiously, turning back to chasing cornflakes along the edge of the bowl. After another fifteen minutes of anxious stalling, I dumped the bowl in the sink and grabbed two books on basic piano skills before heading out the front door. Immediately, a wave of heat crashed over me, the muggy air clinging to my skin as I hurried over next door as fast as I could. Within a few moments, sweat beaded on my back and neck as I rang the doorbell. The door swung open, revealing a tall blond woman who smiled brightly. “Hazel? Nice to meet you! I’m Mazarine, Via’s mother.” Her rich voice had a slight accent I couldn’t place. Mazarine shook my hand and ushered me in. “Via is in the living room. She is eager to meet you.” We passed through a small entryway into the living room, which was a large room with bookshelves lining the wall. Light spilled in through large panes of windows, illuminating the piano in the corner. Perched on the bench was a girl. Via. Via was practically the opposite of her mother, small and slight with brown hair pulled back in a braid. She was wearing sunglasses. I self-consciously tried to smooth down my dark hair and offered an awkward smile. Via stood up, picking up a cane, and slowly walked over. She stopped before us. “So you’re Hazel?” I nodded, then stopped abruptly. “Yes. Nice to meet you.” We shook hands. “All right girls, go ahead and enjoy yourselves. I can bring in snacks if you want, later.” Mazarine patted Via’s shoulder, flashing me yet another smile. “It’s OK, Mom.” Via shrugged her off. “We’re fine. Thanks.” “OK, just checking.” Her mom exhaled. “Make yourself at home, Hazel.” “Thanks,” I murmured, staring down at my feet. Mazarine glanced at us and then walked out into the hallway. Silence descended upon the room. “OK, so I guess you’re supposed to teach me piano now?” Via headed over to the piano bench and sat down. She scooted over and I hesitantly sat down next to her, setting down the books on piano skills on the floor. “Yeah, I guess so. Do you know anything about piano or have you ever learned how to play a little bit before?” “No. Well, I know the piano keys are just repeating scales, sort of. I’ve always wanted to play Vivaldi, though.” “OK, cool. So let’s just start with recognizing the notes.” *          *          * Over a good part of the year, I went over to Via’s house every week to teach her piano. She was a good student; she practiced everything I told her to and improved quickly. Despite it all, we never became friends. Sure, Via was a student, an


By

Orange to Black

Come on Come on Come on I bolt to the window Quick as lightning, with a gasp, my mouth drops open the sun is swiftly sliding into the water, an orange marble sinking into the horizon infusing the river with orange dye I think where does it go? does it sink into the river with a swoosh and a swish? does it dissipate into good dreams for the night? I drift to my bed I realize I am a sun sinking into my bed but I feel nocturnal, my eyes are glued to the ceiling I stare and stare some more into the darkness that darkness that is feared and loved that darkness coating you in black that darkness like the bottom of the ocean that darkness wishing you good dreams that darkness regenerating you until the sun seeps in shining in with a warm hello transforming the darkness to light giving hope for a new day Kyle Lotke, 10New York, New York


By

The Shape Stealers

Zed and I stood, facing the forest. “Are you sure, Zed?” I asked, turning to him. His blue eyes flashed as he glanced back at me. “You don’t have to come with me, Reina,” he growled. “But I’m doing this. I will prove to Hans that I’m not a coward.” At that point, I knew it was best not to argue. Zed is my best friend, and he can be very stubborn, but even I didn’t know that his feelings would extend so far, far enough that we were in danger. I should have known it would come to this, when this morning Hans, the butcher’s son, made fun of Zed in front of all of our neighbors. After that Zed swore that he would prove his bravery to all. Zed began to march toward the thick Yeron Forest. I sighed, straightened the laces on my long blue dress, and followed. “You do have your sword, don’t you?” I called. Zed nodded, distracted by trying to find a way past the wall of trees that bordered Yeron Forest. Ever since I was little, Mama told me stories of the forest. “Don’t ever go into the Yeron Forest, Reina,” she would tell me. “Dangerous things lurk there. Remember when the baker’s boy went missing, two or three years ago? Vanished. Right into the forest. Lady Ira’s maid saw him go.” That scared me off from the forest. Rilk, the baker’s boy, was a friend of mine, and I didn’t want the same fate as him. It had scared me off, until today at least. Much as I feared what lurked in the forest, I feared losing Zed more. Therefore, I decided to accompany him. “I’ve heard there are more terrible monsters, ones that can take the form of any human” To some it might seem a foolish choice, but to me it was the only choice. I had known Zed since we were two: I would not abandon him now. When I reached Zed, he was hacking at the unyielding trees with his sword, a present from my father, the blacksmith of our village. The knights of the royal court often had Father make their swords. Without a sword of my own, I began yanking at different branches, seeing if I could make a hole big enough to fit through. But at my touch, the branches parted! I gasped. “Zed! Here’s a hole!” I thought it wise not to mention to Zed what the branches had done. Zed hurried to me. “I could swear I looked there,” he said. Then he squeezed through the hole. I followed, and my dress ripped on the twigs, leaving a piece of rough dyed fabric flapping in the breeze like a flag. After checking to make sure that you could not see my petticoat peeking through, I followed after Zed. The forest was dark inside—very dark. No light shone through the thick canopy of twisting, leafless branches. The ground was hard and cold, and very little grass grew. And it was cold, oh so cold. Immediately I drew my wool shawl tighter around my shoulders. “Zed, do you know where we’re going?” He shook his head. “Reina, you know we just have to stay in the forest until sunset. Then I’ll show Hans.” I sighed, settled on the hard ground, and took out a lantern from my pack. I lit it, and its warm beam of light lit up the trees. Then I took out a small loaf of bread from my pack. Mama knew I would be with Zed all day, and so she packed me some food. Guilt tightened in my stomach as I thought that I hadn’t told Mama where we were going specifically. I ripped off a chunk and held it out to Zed. “Bread?” I asked. Zed looked at me incredulously. “What’re you doing, Reina?” I stared back at him. “If we’re staying right here all day, we might as well get comfortable,” I replied. Zed shook his head. “We’re not staying here. We have to get as deep in the forest as we can get. I told Marya to tell Father where we were when we were gone for an hour. It’s been about that, and father will come after us. No, we must go deeper.” Marya was Zed’s sister. I sighed and began packing up my lunch. “Can I at least carry the lantern?” I asked. Zed nodded, and I could see, although he’d never say so, that he, too, was nervous in this forest. I stood, brushed off my skirts, and said, “Which way?” Zed rotated, looking at all of the possibilities. He pointed left. “That way.” As we walked, I told Zed repeatedly how foolish we were. “You know, there are supposed to be wolves and dragons in these woods,” I said, “and I’ve heard that there are fairies and goblins too.” Zed nodded and glanced around. “I’ve heard there are more terrible monsters, ones that can take the form of any human. They know a few things about the person that they’re imitating, but not everything. They are called Shape Stealers.” I started to laugh, then realized he was serious. “So, if we see each other after being separated while in the woods, we should each ask the other a question only we can know the answer to,” Zed continued. “What will you ask me?” I asked. Zed thought for a moment. “I would ask you what we did together last month.” I chuckled. “Smeared honey on Aunt Rina’s chickens and then on the shedded fur of Olo {Olo was my dog}, and Aunt Rina thought she had wild beasts instead of chickens in her coop!” Zed grinned. “Correct. What would you ask me?” I thought about all of the great times we’d had together. “I’d ask you what I wanted to be when I was older.” We walked and laughed together, and for those moments, the forest’s gloomy hold on us lessened. Suddenly,


By

If Only I Could

If only I could help the world. I would like to get bad people and teach them how to be nice. If only I could fly and help people with their feelings, and stop them from killing people that are trying really hard to help us all to be good people and nice and kind to others like us who come from a different country. If only I could help my family from Haiti and us too. I would make them feel welcome to the new country we live in now. If only I could talk to them. I would say welcome and how is Haiti? How is it there? If only I could ask Mom and Dad a question in Creole. I would ask, “Did you miss me and Ericka and Ruth, Mom and Dad?” If only I could go back and save my best friend from the orphanage. I would be so happy for the children because their birth families get them back! I would give them to their new family that was waiting for them a long time. If only I could help the world. I would like to get people and teach them how to be nice. If only I could… Rickza is a Haitian-American, adopted by her mom, Ruth, and living in the United States with her sister since July of 2013. Rickza Kerr, 11Seattle, Washington


By

The Way to Stay in Destiny

The Way to Stay in Destiny, by Augusta Scattergood; Scholastic Press: New York, 2015; $16.99 It’s funny how we can adapt to the way we live and call it normal, right to the point where it all changes. Theo had spent his whole life in Kentucky with his grandparents and his dog. But then, in the summer of 1974, his uncle took away everything that was important to him, including his own home. I knew how Theo felt to suddenly have nothing to look forward to, to leave everything behind and start a completely new life. I was born in South Korea and lived with my grandmother. It wasn’t the best way to live, but I had friends, family, and my life right there that I didn’t want to give up. But over the years, I’ve learned that everything happens for a reason and that everything has a story behind it. When I was seven years old, my aunt brought me to America. It took a while for me to accept that I lost the life I knew but was given a new one; I was expected to embrace a new environment, just like Theo. The twelve-year-old boy didn’t have it easy—he had to live with his uncle who was a scarred veteran from the Vietnam War. At first, I didn’t approve of their intolerable behavior towards one another. But as I kept flipping the pages, their relationship became clear as I found a way to relate and understand. Uncle Raymond is one of those people that you have to peel back many layers one at a time in order to reach his feelings. Once you peel back the layers, you can actually understand him. During this roller coaster, Theo discovered that sometimes a change is a good thing. That maybe our early life is just to prepare us for the life that is ahead of us. The characters spoke to me as if they had a real voice that could be heard. And in a way, they did—especially Theo. When his uncle was against the life and hobbies Theo seemed to want, but really needed, Theo stuck with his own opinions and made an entrance to the life he was supposed to live. I love how Theo managed to prove how talents and hobbies such as piano and baseball are not a waste of time. “‘I can’t live without music,’ I answer. I open the piano and play—loud and fast.” If anyone pulls you back from something important or someone you truly love, you just can’t listen to them. The author made the characters, story, and setting seem realistic with small details such as the big pot of flowers by the sign, the annoying green parrots, and especially the emotions I felt towards the characters. In a very short book that many of us can finish within a day, I was left thirsting for more with a sturdy connection to the characters and events; I felt sympathy and other feelings that cannot be described with words. The Way to Stay in Destiny taught me that there will be times when we have to try out a different road in our lives to help us become the people we were meant to be. This may be a book for children, but I believe the lesson inside can be taught to anyone in this world, no matter what age. Eun Bee (Lena) Park, 12East Brunswick, New Jersey


By

Answers in the Sky

“We all miss Papa, it’s so hard to move on without him…” Midnight woke at the crack of dawn. His glossy, dark pelt shone in the light of the rising sun. The tree shadows danced in the wind like fingers on a black table. Midnight looked around, watching his brother, Moonshadow, his sister, Autumn, and his mother, Silverwater. Midnight’s father had left the beautiful earth shortly after the birth of his family. “One day, I’ll be strong. I’ll live up to you, Papa. Even though I might be the smallest, I have power like no others,” Midnight whispered, staring hopefully at the sky, his heart aching at the thought of the father he missed so very much. As Midnight was settling back down, he saw Autumn’s eyes flicker open. “Midnight, what are you doing up so early?” she whispered, careful not to wake the others. “Couldn’t sleep. Bad dreams,” Midnight meowed back. “Like what?” “Well, Papa was there and… we were hunting mice together… and then he just… left, and…. I couldn’t find him anymore!” Midnight whimpered. “I understand. We all miss Papa, it’s so hard to move on without him… But we just have to remember that up there, high up in the beauty of the night sky, surrounded by stars, Papa is there, and he’ll be watching over us always,” Autumn replied. Autumn settled back down, leaving Midnight with his thoughts about his papa. Could he really be up there, watching me right now? Midnight wondered. And with this comforting thought, he settled back to sleep. *          *          * Midnight awoke to the faint smell of mouse. He opened his eyes to see that Moonshadow and Autumn had already finished eating. Mama was nowhere in sight. “Hey—where’s Mama?” Midnight meowed. At this, Moonshadow and Autumn exchanged nervous glances. “Well… Mama is… not feeling well,” Moonshadow murmured at last. There was such fear in his brother’s voice. At first, he thought nothing of it, but then he realized what was really happening. “Mama!!!” Midnight yowled. He ran to the small clearing where Mama loved to rest and found her lying in the middle. “Midnight…” Mama spoke, but her words were interrupted immediately by coughing. The cough sounded terrible, almost deadly. “Mama… No… You can’t… This can’t be happening… You are going to be OK!” Midnight meowed, trying to convince himself. “Don’t worry, Midnight… It’s all going to be OK,” she croaked. “No!” Midnight yowled, as his siblings appeared behind him. Their eyes widened as they saw the state their dear mother was in. “Midnight… Go…. Find us a new home…. Don’t worry about me… You must leave this place…” Mama spoke as she coughed some more. “But… Why? How will you survive while you are like… this?” Midnight meowed in panic, trying to take in all she was saying. “I have experience with herbs and healing. I can use catmint to heal my cough, and once the cough is cured I can hunt for myself,” Mama meowed wearily. “Mama… are you sure?” Autumn spoke for the first time. “I most certainly am.” Warmth sparkled in Mama’s eyes. “Now go, my kits, go quickly…” coughed Mama. The cats looked at each other for a moment, then nodded. “OK, Mama… We’ll go…. But remember, we are thinking of you every step of the way,” Moonshadow meowed sadly. “B-but… Wait! Why can’t you come?” Midnight blurted out. “I will not be here for long. It is best you make the journey alone. Soon, I will walk with Papa… And I will protect you in your new home,” Mama said, coughing. Taking one last look at the mother they might never see again, Midnight, Autumn, and Moonshadow turned their backs on the place they had always called home. *          *          * The three young cats walked along in sorrow. As Midnight padded along, he couldn’t help thinking, I should have insisted on staying there and helping! If she dies, it’s all going to be my fault… He felt terrible about leaving Mama in the forest all alone. When Midnight was ill, Mama had always taken care of him… “Midnight! Watch out!!!” Moonshadow yowled, but it was too late. Midnight was wrenched from his thoughts about Mama as he plunged deep into an icy-cold, swiftly moving river. Midnight frantically tried to pull himself out of the river, but it was no use. The fall had knocked the breath out of him, and he couldn’t tell which way was up and which way was down. Suddenly, Midnight felt a strong paw struggling to pull him out of the river. Then another paw reached for Midnight’s head, and he broke surface. Autumn and Moonshadow were staring down at him, fear in their eyes. Midnight could barely breathe. Water clogged his throat. He coughed up a large pool of water, gasping for breath. “Midnight! You’re OK!” breathed Autumn in relief. “Y-yeah…” Midnight gasped. “I’m fine.” “You have to be careful next time! You could have died!” Moonshadow spoke in annoyance. “Well, sorry,” Midnight replied bitterly. “We should keep going.” Without a word, the three cats kept walking toward a thick pine forest. It was slightly cold as they neared the forest, and Midnight assumed it was because of the small frosty mountain range surrounding it. It was getting dark, and the three cats decided to settle down for the night in a small, empty cave by the edge of the pine forest. As Midnight slowly drifted to sleep, he found he was not asleep at all. He was standing in a small, starry forest with the moon shining brightly over every inch. For some reason, the place seemed oddly familiar. When Midnight looked around, he let out a gasp. He could hardly believe his eyes. For the first time in so long, Midnight’s gaze rested on his very own father, just as he had seen him last. “P-Papa… Is… is that really you?!” he stammered, barely able to speak at the sight of the starry cat