An unexpected change in perspective prompts a new understanding of the natural world It feels like everything is more difficult here. I spent an hour picking blackberries for jam and then took a spoonful of it when we made it. I almost ate the entire jar. The fresh air is great, and the grass seems greener here. But it also seems like this place doesn’t exist back home. I love it here, but it’s almost too damp to go outside. I don’t know why I’m on this trip. I popped up out of bed and walked down the wooden stairs. They turned, and I hugged the wall with lethargy. “Good morning,” I groggily blurted out to the noise at the end of the hall. “Morning!” “What do we have for breakfast?” “Pancakes. They’ll take a bit.” He always took a while with the pancakes. “I’m gonna go pick berries.” “Still keen on making jam?” I laughed. “Don’t go past the trees!” I opened the door with a hasty “Yup!” Beach in Autumn I had only woken up fifteen minutes before, but I decided to go out anyway. I’d barely slept last night because of the incessant banging of droplets that had to have frozen before digging into the shingles of the white cottage. I slipped on a sweater lazily to see my favorite part of this whole place: the vast fields that feel like an ocean of green that lead down to the lawn where I can sit and have tea and cookies. I had always liked those fields. I could just walk out the door and take fifteen steps to the hedge that overlooked the hill. I had seen better views online, but this one felt special. I saw flashes of red and white and gray. Sometimes when I’d go farther for a closer look, the cows would pace toward me. I always thought it was funny to see them jaunt over to me and stop at the gate. I was fascinated with everything I saw, even with the dirt beneath me almost transmuted fully into mucky water. It was always exciting to see the glimmer of cozy velvet, tainted with dark beige and brown. I yawned and sank into the mud. As soon as I closed my eyes and opened my mouth, I heard a rush of vigorous water, thwacking and squelching as it split into two on the rocks. I opened my eyes, and I felt my cold feet digging into the dirt near some kind of river. I tried looking around, and I felt my throat buckle. I recoiled and looked down to the silt. I saw two dull-gray paws rooted to the ground, quilled and monotonous, connected to limbs that arched toward the bottom of my vision. I jumped up at the sight of them and rolled down toward the river. I closed my eyes, and for some reason; my body twirled through the air and spread its arms, almost on its own. As my arms spread, the flaps of quilled fur acted as a parachute, and I looked up to the river as I soared. I saw my own reflection: a squirrel. Not the kind I saw back home. This one was black and gray, and its tail flapped in the wind like a sail in a stormy ocean. For once I was above the dirty sludge that coated the ground from last night’s rain, and I could see, past the vast array of rocks and busy waters, a clearing. It had almost cabbage-green grass, and the trees parted to reveal white mushrooms and wildflowers that grew without humans. Looking down at them, I noticed they were swaying lightly, like the wind was whispering through them. I soared back down to the ground and felt the back of my throat pulse as I squeaked. I knew it was a dream, but I couldn’t pinch myself, could I? My limbs couldn’t move well enough to burst out of their locked position, and my small jaws could barely move. So I dropped down to the muddy, silty ground and popped my miniscule shoulder blades out of place, planted them to the ground, and dragged myself using my neck. I made another high-pitched noise almost unconsciously. I soared back down to the ground and felt the back of my throat pulse as I squeaked. I knew it was a dream, but I couldn’t pinch myself, could I? Suddenly, I was hungry. I wasn’t hungry for anything back home—I wanted nothing more than to pop open a walnut or a peanut and chew it with my teeth. But I didn’t like nuts. I was whatever you call the step before allergic. Whenever I popped one in my mouth, I almost gagged. As I lay on the ground, inching toward the forest clearing, I saw the same velvet glint I had been so eager to see. A fox, as gently as can be, lay one paw, then another, into the clearing. It arched its neck and turned to me. I had never been so close. It was a perfect and never-ending red, with golden eyes that shimmered amongst the flowers. Its peaked ears rested on its scalp like a rabbit’s. Its two canine teeth protruded into its jaw and curled its tongue inward. I shifted my own furry head, and I saw it from a new angle. It was malnourished and weak, its four knees curling down from fatigue. And then it pounced. I had no sense of space or how far away it was, but I knew it would chew me down and swallow me. Maybe that’s nature. But again, almost instinctively, my arms jumped and contorted, and I began rolling back down the hill I had spent at least a few minutes climbing. But it could’ve been seconds. Hours, maybe. I rolled, like the water I was tumbling toward, thwacking into sharp rocks and staining them with the dirt on my fur. I fell into the

After a couple of years as a serious gymnast, Adelaide’s passion for the sport fades There was once a gymnastics gym called Tumble Town Gymnastics. This gym was the opposite of famous, and everyone who worked there or went there knew it. Except one person. Adelaide Collins. She wasn’t the best gymnast at the gym, but she wasn’t the worst. But she didn’t care because she didn’t know. Adelaide was twelve, and she lived with her mom, dad, uncle, aunt, and grandparents in a big four-story house in Montclair, New Jersey. She went to the gym almost every day, even though she wasn’t on the gymnastics team, because her family thought she needed to “get extra pent-up energy out.” So that’s exactly what she did. Her coach was Miss Anderson Pulatinaski. Miss Pulatinaski was once a three-time Worlds gymnast, but she never made it to the Olympics because she broke her ankle very badly and wasn’t able to compete. So she settled in New Jersey and opened a gym. But Miss Pulatinaski hated running the gym and doing all its paperwork, so she hired someone else to work the gym and she started coaching there. Adelaide was Miss Pulatinaski’s favorite because she never cared what anyone thought. This made Adelaide special to Miss Pulatinaski. One day while Adelaide was working on her punch front tucks into the foam pit, a poster caught her eye. TEAM TRYOUTS NEXT MONTH ON THE 21st TWO HOURS OF HARDCORE GYMNASTICS “Wow,” said Adelaide. “Do you think I could try out?” she asked Miss Pulatinaski. “I think you could make the team, but are you sure you want to be on the team?” asked Miss Pulatinaski. “Of course!” shouted Adelaide. “Alright,” Miss Pulatinaski said. So Adelaide signed up for tryouts. The Flash And on the twenty-first of May, Tumble Town Gymnastics hadn’t been this crowded since . . . well, ever. Adelaide felt very intimidated and was so nervous she almost threw up. But Adelaide walked into the gym and stretched with everyone who was trying out. Then they did back handsprings and front handsprings and then punch front tucks into the foam pit and then round-off back handsprings and then round-off double back handsprings. One hour later, Adelaide was very tired. Just kidding. She wasn’t tired at all. Two hours later she was really, really tired. No joke. She went home and fell on her bed exhausted. The next day she heard she had made the team and was ecstatic. Two Years Later “Okay, people. Line up and go home,” said Adelaide’s coach. Which Adelaide was really excited to do because in the last couple weeks she had started disliking gymnastics more and more. When she got home, she looked up on her computer “ways to get out of gymnastics.” She found a bunch of answers: Fake sick. Skip it. Find another sport. Tell your coach you won’t come anymore. Adelaide hated gymnastics because Miss Pulatinaski had retired and Adelaide had started going to the gym more and more and more and more and learning harder skills, and it ate away at her love of the sport. It was obvious Adelaide was unhappy when she was doing the trickiest skill the team would allow at a competition and fell. She didn’t hurt herself seriously, but she did sprain her wrist and was pulled out of the competition. Something snapped in Adelaide that day. That night she went to Miss Pulatinaski’s house, like she always did when she had problems, and explained herself to her old coach. Miss P. understood and told her to either find a new sport or take a break, which is exactly what Adelaide did: took a break. When she got home, she looked up on her computer “ways to get out of gymnastics.” She started running around her block over and over again to stay exercised; even though she did not love running, she figured out that she could run really fast. She realized after a while she was really good and that running was actually really fun. She then tried out for the track and field team at her school and made it! Adelaide started to get very serious about running and soon tried out for more advanced and prestigious running teams until she found herself face to face with the Olympic trials. It was the night before the trials, and Adelaide’s running coach was in her hotel sleeping because it was literally 10 p.m., which was pretty late for Adelaide, but Adelaide couldn’t sleep because of nerves. She decided to call her parents, but since it was 10, they didn’t answer. Adelaide decided to call Miss Pulatinaski. She answered and sounded pretty worried at first but calmed down and asked what was wrong, and Adelaide told her. Miss P. told her she was going to be okay and that even if Adelaide didn’t go to the Olympics, she would still be proud of her. This didn’t really make Adelaide feel better, but she agreed and hung up. The next day Adelaide woke up and did not feel in the least bit tired. Adrenaline pumped through her as she ran around the track with her team. Then, she headed down to the big building where the trials would be held. After a short break, the coach who would be judging told Adelaide and her teammates to run around the track until she blew her whistle. Adelaide started running and the adrenaline pumped through her again as she ran around the track once, then twice, then three times, then four, and then five. It seemed to go on forever, and as the coach blew her whistle, Adelaide’s lungs felt like they were on fire. On her break, Adelaide replayed the moment in her head over and over and over again until she caught her flaws and perfections. Then she went back to do it all over again, and when she saw her score, she knew that she was going

After her beloved owner dies, Mayhem invents a game to find a new, equally caring, friend Inspired by T.S. Eliot’s poem “The Naming of Cats” It was a dark time for animals. Wise elephants were dying. Raptors and other birds had lost their homes. Polar bears were still swimming for their lives. Baby penguins, because they cannot swim, were drowning. Unmindful people were stepping on snails. Fearful owners were abandoning their pets who could spread new, lethal viruses. Pet cats and dogs were kidnapped and then returned for reward money. In this dreadful time, a cat named Mayhem wanted to have some fun with humans. Besides, her owner had died, leaving her abandoned. She didn’t really want to become a feral cat. She longed to find a new, right owner. So, when she learned of a new way to use her secret name to serve this purpose, she was elated. She found one of the portals for “cats only” in the nearby city park on a picnic table by the water fountain. The forever-green park was always relaxing. The old oaks, chestnuts, and elms were relaxing deep into their roots in the cool earth. The bookworms, leaning against their trunks, were relaxing. The mallard ducks in the pond were relaxing. The reeds, the wind, the fish, and even the water were relaxing. The blind walking with their guide dogs were relaxing. The gardeners were relaxing into their work, the grass was relaxing, the roses, poppies, peonies, water lilies—all were relaxing. Only the police were vigilant, and the weeds were stressed. There, feeling calm and relaxed, Mayhem spoke her secret name at the portal, leaving behind an optical illusion of herself inside a glass full of water. Mayhem first explored the feline world. She found it as dark as black pepper and very cozy—a perfect refuge for cats. All cats in the world could secretly go there to party with all of their friends and enjoy everything they could possibly want! From there, Mayhem could always return to her water-glass portal and, through a special lens, inspect people and play her game. Every day, when people would pause, curious about her image reflected in the water, Mayhem would speak to them: Forgotten Moon “If you want to save me, guess my second name, and if you guess correctly, you will receive a reward.” In the feline world, one of Mayhem’s friends asked, “Why are you so interested in humans?” Mayhem explained that she was trying to find an owner. Her friend replied, “If you do find an owner, please visit us daily, or I will miss you.” Mayhem nodded and smiled. “Of course. I will come back daily, and I will never forget you.” Another cat came by and said to Mayhem, “Why do you want to find an owner? I think the cat world is great.” “I want to find an owner because it is a love that nothing can beat. So whenever a person tries to guess my name, I need to be behind the scenes, ask questions, and study the person’s characteristics to learn if she or he merely wants a reward or truly wants to save my life.” She never told any of her cat friends that she had planned to accept the guessed name only if the person had shown true care for her. Mayhem soon saw a person strolling through the park reading a newspaper. He smelled like sweat and rotten eggs. Yuck, thought Mayhem. How gross. I would prefer an owner smelling of catnip. Yet reflected sunlight through the glass of water, unfortunately, caught the man’s eye, so he stopped to stare at—oh, my gosh—the cat in the water glass! Unsuspecting a real cat listening nearby, he laughed out loud. “So ridiculous! A cat in a water glass?” Mayhem thought him mean, but because she wanted some fun, she encouraged him: “Perhaps your guess will be just as ridiculous!” Embarrassed by the hidden cat’s voice, he became serious. “Okay, I will try to guess your name.” “Definitely not a person who could be my rightful owner,” Mayhem grumbled to herself. “Is it Leggy?” “No,” replied Mayhem. “Is it Koko?” “Sorry, Koko isn’t the right name.” “I give up. Besides, I’m due at work in five minutes.” As he walked away from the water glass, folding his newspaper, Mayhem felt relieved and patiently waited since the park would be full of people during the noon hour. After a minute, a high school boy saw her. “Haha, a cat in a water glass! Someone must have painted it!” To Mayhem it looked like he had painted himself. He wore a funky hat with dots and splashes of vibrant colors, a plain blue shirt and pants splashed with the same vibrant colors, and his shoes were jolly-looking, being unmatched. He himself was as white as blank paper, except for a painted monkey on his cheek. He also smelled like caramel candy. He’s a person who loves to laugh and to make others laugh too, Mayhem discerned and, rolling her eyes, said, “I’m real, not painted. Do you want to save me?” The boy blithely replied, “Oh, a talking cat that doesn’t appear at all to be afflicted by water. You must be a joke.” And he walked away. Yet reflected sunlight through the glass of water, unfortunately, caught the man’s eye, so he stopped to stare at—oh, my gosh— the cat in the water glass! Back in the cat world, Mayhem took a nap. A dozen people had tried to guess her name, all of them wanting the reward. She returned to her post for the after-school kids. A kid soon walked by, engaged in reading an All About Science book. He wore large, round-rimmed glasses and a navy blue-and-grey school uniform. He looked up to the cat in the water glass and politely said, “Hi, my name is Joe. What’s your name?” Mayhem thought, How nice! “My name is Mayhem.” Joe stared at Mayhem and