Bella ran up the beach after me. “What’s wrong?” Underneath the fluffy white clouds that rested peacefully in the cheery blue sky, the waves pushed me and my boogie board in to shore. Riding the white water was better than anything I dreamed of doing this vacation. Since the moment I first splashed into the waves hours earlier, I hadn’t come out; there is nothing better than riding your boogie board on the waves with your cousins! Mom, Dad, and I always jump on any opportunity to escape from the seasonal sloppy-slop of Oregon. This time, we’d taken a trip to California to visit my cousins, Bella and Joey, and their parents, my uncle and aunt. On this late June afternoon, our gang had landed at the beach. When we arrived here, no worries were lurking about. It was just a gorgeous California day, and I was happy. Very happy. I would wait for the wave, rush toward the shore, come back out to the waves, and do it again. Bella, my nine-year-old cousin, wasn’t too far from me. Sometimes we would shout, “Ready… GO!” and we’d be riding the waves next to each other. I was having the best time ever. On my ten-millionth wave, I jumped on my boogie board at the perfect time, just in time for the perfect wave of this perfect day. White and bubbly, this was sure to be the wave of the week. I rose, higher and higher, and my smile was as big as the sun. Then, just as I was about to shout, “Whee!” I plummeted down. Uh oh. I squeezed my eyes shut, but even so I could feel the dark blueness around me, like a thunderstorm, like the nighttime rain that always wakes me up at midnight. But this time I wasn’t in my bed. The waves were rolling over me with a huge force, pulling me down into the rock-hard sand. Ow. And then, in addition to all that, I felt something slip off my wrist. Once the waves calmed down, I got up and opened my salty eyes. I looked at my right wrist, and a horrible feeling swept over me. Tears streaked down my face as I dragged my boogie board up the beach. I passed kids building sand castles and laughing. I passed people relaxing on beach chairs. How could anyone be so carefree? How could I have ever thought that the clouds looked fluffy? How could anything, even the sky, look cheery? The sand wriggled in between my toes, like it was trying to reassure me that it was OK. The afternoon heat warmed the back of my neck, and rays of sun wrapped around my body, trying to comfort me. But I didn’t feel any comfort. Bella ran up the beach after me. “What’s wrong?” I didn’t answer. I shook my head and plopped down on the hot sand. I had to admit that it felt so good compared to the cold, biting water. “Are you OK, Chloe?” Bella asked, sitting by me. I shook my head again. “Tell me, what is wrong?” I ignored my younger cousin and stared out at that awful ocean. I couldn’t believe what had happened. My face was hot with tears, and thinking about my bracelet made even more tears streak down my face. “Tell me, what is wrong,” Bella repeated, this time more of a command than a question. So I told her about my special bracelet that I was sure I had lost, the purple one that Nannie, our grandma, had given me. It was made of brightly colored hairbands that were braided together. I had been wearing it for months, and I wore it everywhere. To school. To dance practice. To bed. I never took the bracelet off. It was very special. “Hmmm.” Bella stared into the ocean, then hopped up onto her feet. “I’ll go look for it. Wanna help me?” I got up and followed her down toward that mean ocean, forgetting to be happy or thankful that she was helping me. I wanted my bracelet. We looked for the bracelet for a long time, walking up and down the beach. It was nowhere to be found. Bella and I were both sure that the bracelet had disappeared into the ocean, but I didn’t tell her because I didn’t want it to look like I was giving up, and Bella didn’t want to tell me because it might make me really sad. Bella’s younger brother, Joey, even came down to help us look, but the ocean had no doubt swallowed it. Eventually, I shook my head. Bella and Joey walked with me back to our campout, away from the dark, mean water. The waves chased after us and nipped at our heels like a playful puppy, but I didn’t want anything to do with the ocean ever again. In fact, I would never go in it again! Joey went back to playing, and Bella and I sat down on the sand. It was warm, warmer than the seawater. I began to scoop it up and bury my legs with it. It calmed me down a little bit. Bella said, “Will you be ready to boogie board soon?” “No,” I replied, halfway done with my right leg. “You can, but I don’t want to go in the ocean.” “Why not?” asked Bella. It would be silly to tell my cousin that I was afraid of the water because it was mean to me, so I just said, “Just a bit longer on the sand. Please?” I was done with my right leg, and onto my left. “Look, it is getting to be afternoon. More people are arriving, and the water is going to get too crowded to boogie board. Can we go out?” Bella asked me, with a pleading look on her face. “Not yet. The water is cold. The sand is warm.” I was done burying both my legs in sand.

“Excuse me, sir, I think you dropped this” The night was black and warm, the air thick and smoggy and choking with every breath. The girl and her father, walking home from the movies, did not speak. This was partly because of the empty humid night but mostly for some other reason, one that neither the girl nor her father understood. They were not close. The father tried but gave up when the girl avoided him or ignored him. The girl had tried but felt that he was too busy when she actually wanted to talk. “You know how parents are,” she confided into the phone earlier that day and listened as her best friend, Leslie, began bemoaning the uncaring ways of her father, who didn’t understand how much she needed to go to this concert. It really was a matter of life and death. They both knew that. The girl’s father, who had been sitting at the kitchen table, with his elbow on a newspaper and a cup of coffee continually in his hand, leaned a little closer to his friend, who had been patiently listening to the laments of the father. “You know how teenagers are,” the father said, and his friend nodded. He did know how teenagers are. Later that day, the father went into the girl’s bedroom and asked her if she’d like to go to the movies that night since they were showing Spider-Man. The girl was on the phone and had looked irritated when he came in, but now her eyes lit up and she giggled and nodded excitedly. “I love Spider-Man,” she said. “My hero is Spider-Man. That’s what Leslie and I were just talking about, isn’t it, Leslie?” and she held out the phone so that her father could hear Leslie’s assent that they had, indeed, just been talking about Spider-Man. The father was satisfied that he had done something right, but he felt out of place in the pale pink room with the posters of boy bands and movie stars everywhere, and so he left quickly. They decided to walk to the movies, since it wasn’t far and it was such a lovely day. When they got to the movie theater, the line was long. In front of them was a man with three little boys. He was lecturing them on something and holding a crumpled fist of bills. “Now, boys, sit quietly,” he said. “Act nice and grown up, all right?” “Why can’t you go in, Daddy?” the youngest asked. “I can’t, buddy,” the man said and ruffled his hair. He made a sour face. “I only got enough money for you guys.” The girl looked up at her father. He had a strange look on his face and he was fishing around in his wallet. He pulled out a ten, bent over, stood back up, and tapped the man on the shoulder. “Excuse me, sir, I think you dropped this,” he said. The man stared at him, open-mouthed. “Thanks, man,” he said. The father nodded at him. Then the man turned back around. “Guess what, guys? I’m comin’ with ya.” The boys cheered. The girl looked up at her father. He looked down and gave her a small, nervous smile. She looked down again. Coming home, it was very dark. The girl wasn’t afraid, and since she knew the way, she marched along, her arms swinging. Just then, a big dog leapt out of the shadows and, snarling, moved towards the girl. She screamed. Her father began to run. He had been quite a ways behind the girl, but now he caught up quickly and jumped in front of her. The dog barked at them and threw himself forward, but the father’s foot met him and he fell back. He growled again but slunk into the shadows. The girl and her father started walking again. They could hear the dog but he stayed where he was. They walked down the street, the girl still swinging her arms and trying to pretend her legs weren’t weak. She glanced around to make sure none of her friends were out and about and then she grabbed her father’s hand. The father silently thanked the dog. After they got home, the phone rang. It was Leslie. The father was standing close to the girl and heard Leslie ask how the movie was. “Fine,” said the girl and flopped down on the couch. “Oh, Leslie, you’ll never believe what happened!” The father stood a little straighter and waited to hear her account of his generosity and bravery. “Can you guess?” the girl cried. “Noo… I’ll tell you. They showed Spider-Man without his shirt on!” “Teenagers,” the father muttered and went to bed. Shyla DeLand, 12Remsen, New York Anika Knudson, 13Tumwater, Washington

A haze filled the air, it was a warm summer day. I was awakened by the glistening sun rays that wrapped me so tightly in their heat. Shortly after I woke up, I was greeted by my mom and dad, smiling and happy as always; but I had noticed something very peculiar about my mother. She seemed uneasy, in a way I couldn’t put together. I didn’t pay much attention to it and shrugged it off. After eating a delicious breakfast, I took a shower, got ready, and went outside. I stepped out onto the porch and sat on the steps. The summer haze covered me in a blanket of warmth; I loved it. I loved summer, I loved Iowa, and I loved my life. I didn’t have a worry in the world. From the lush green grass that tickled my feet, to the clouds bouncing above my head, I was content. This was July 15, 2006. My father is a wonderful man, but he has flaws as everyone else does. With his jet-black hair, amazing smile, kind heart, jolly soul, and humor that could brighten up anyone’s day, he was my father. He had friends everywhere we went. On the other hand, with a temper as short as a wick on a firework and anger as powerful as a raging bull, he was Eddie Reyes. The few times that I’d seen him argue with my mom, I never thought of him as my dad. I always liked to believe that he was actually just another person. How could my loving, caring, funny dad be such an angry and spiteful person? What I believed or wanted to think wasn’t important at the time because my mom was done with him. She was packing up boxes of clothes inside the house and was getting ready to load them into our truck. She was leaving and intended to take me with her. I loved summer, I loved Iowa, and I loved my life There was shouting from inside the house, I knew my dad had blown up again, and he was making a grand scene. Through the large glass window, I had seen the other person, I had seen Eddie Reyes. His face a burning red, a flame. He was shouting at my mom, saying that she wouldn’t leave, that she would be back. Soon, he stopped, ran out of breath, I guess. Hesitantly, I reached toward the doorknob, afraid of what the future could possibly hold, but before I could get a hold of the doorknob, my mom charged though the front door with the boxes in her hands. She started loading up the truck with boxes, and it seemed as if I didn’t matter at the moment. I was just sitting on the porch watching, wondering what would happen to me when the dust settled. I wanted to talk to them, tell them to stop and apologize to each other, but I couldn’t; I didn’t have the courage. So I just sat there, as time moved so slow it almost froze. All I could do was wish, wish for a better day, wish it would all stop, or wish it was a bad dream; but all the wishing I had done, did nothing. The time had come where I had to make a choice. It felt like hours had passed. My mother came over to the steps, looked me in the eye, and formed as much of a smile as she could at the time. My father, who had been sitting on the couch in deep thought, rose up and walked out to the porch. You could feel the tension. The hate that was in his eyes was beyond scary. My mom took my hand and led me towards the truck. We got to the door, when suddenly, as if he just realized I was leaving, my father objected, saying that I should choose who I go with. My mother slowly and carefully thought it over, then asked me if I wanted to go to Chicago with her or stay here with Dad. Well, the obvious answer was my mom, but if you take away all the fighting and anger my dad had, he was the best dad ever. I was also scared if I didn’t pick Dad, would he get angry with me like he did my mother? My dad was smiling at me, my mom as well, and I didn’t know what to do. I was six years old and I had never made such a big decision. I chose my mom, my father’s eyes softened, his face flushed, and his smile turned into a quivering lip. He was hurt and disappointed, but not angry. I felt somewhat guilty, as I never wanted to hurt my dad, no matter how scared I was. My stomach in knots and my body shaking, I jumped into the truck. I said goodbye to my father, and my mom and I were off. It’s a three-hour drive from Iowa to Chicago. It was the longest trip of my life. I sat back and just watched as the green fields and blue skies slowly turned into city streets and tall buildings. I hadn’t slept the whole drive. I was too busy trying to figure out exactly what just happened. I knew my parents didn’t get along, but I figured they would stick it out and someday we would be happy again. But I guess things don’t always turn out like they do in movies; I learned that at an early age. The truck had stopped. I looked at where we were, and I recognized the house. It was my aunt’s house. It’s a cozy little place with a fence and park across the street. We were welcomed in, I reacted slowly and was still in shock but they didn’t seem to mind. My cousins and aunt were so friendly and kind that for a second I forgot the things that happened, and