Joyce Hong, 11 (Oakville, ON, Canada) A Vacation, an Idiom, and a Wedding Joyce Hong, 11 Todd slowly exhaled and pressed the button on the radio. Maybe there would be some song or some old nostalgic tune that would cheer him up for a bit. Allard was still at the university in some neuroscience graduate classes that Todd, graphic design major who’d graduated years ago, would never be able to understand. At least he had some time to himself before Allard would be coming back. The radio burped before letting out a few long, miserable notes: “Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead…” He smacked the button to change the song. “We don’t talk anymore, like we used to do…” Click. The radio belched once more. “You told me you love me, why did you leave me all alone…” “Cause my heart breaks a little when I hear your name…” “We go, breaking up like cell phones, when I speak—” Todd picked up the radio and promptly tossed it onto the floor. While it didn’t seem even remotely broken, the music did stop. Maybe there was something broken inside. Like how there was something broken inside Todd. He had to fix this. Because Allard was a good guy, and he didn’t do anything wrong, and Todd didn’t want to hurt him. And if Allard began to realize that Todd didn’t love him anymore—of course, he meant, if Allard began to believe, inaccurately, that Todd was falling out of love with him, Todd wasn’t sure what he would do with himself. Because then it would be his fault. So. He had to fix this. Now, the only question was how. “Sam, my man—” “I’m not your man.” Beep. “Melia, I need your help, my lobelia—” “Did you just compare me to a flower?” Beep. “Rowan McGowan, you must be knowing—” “That is a pathetic rhyme, and you know it.” Beep. “Rochel, don’t hang up!” A few moments of silence. Beep. “THIS IS NOT MY DAY!” Todd threw his head back, slamming the phone back on the holder. “Why is everyone being so—so annoying today?” Slumping down into the chair, the door creaked closed behind him even though he hadn’t opened it in the first place. As Todd spun around in his chair, Allard gave him a sweet, puzzled smile. It was the type of smile that used to make Todd weak at the knees. Cute, but it didn’t make his knees feel weak anymore. “I hope that everyone doesn’t include me.” Allard said, slinging his bag off his shoulder and dropping it onto the rug. Todd studied him in silence, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. Allard’s face was beginning to look increasingly concerned, his smile faltering a bit as he adjusted the cuffs of his sleeves. “Todd? You alright?” Letting out a small, sharp laugh, Todd nodded vigorously. “Course, Ally. Course. Just… Everyone was hanging up on my calls. ALL OF THEM. Sam, Mel, Rowan, Rock. I haven’t even tried to call Bill yet, but I’m sure that he’ll hang up, too.” “Well, actually, I saw him at uni today, and he’s going to his fiancée’s brother’s place in Trinidad for their wedding! He was actually supposed to pack weeks before, but he’d procrastinated and now he’s really hurrying and hoping that Amanda won’t catch him. So, Bill probably won’t pick up at all!” Allard’s shoulders went back, his expression so innocent, so proud of just knowing this, but again, his smile faded quickly. “Well… I guess that didn’t help much.” “Well, you know, I’ve always told you that your optimism is infectious, hm, love?” Todd fell back into the chair. Going to his fiancée’s brother’s place in Trinidad… “And besides, speaking of going on a trip, I’ve decided to go on a vacation! Alone!” Todd slapped his thighs. “Whaddya say?” “Todd, it’s the middle of the year. And alone? Do you remember what happened last time?” Todd did remember what happened last time. Seven years ago, when Allard had been twenty, and Todd had been twenty-one, but still he remembered. How could he forget? “Todd, you’re not looking so good.” Allard gave him an adorably worried look. “You want to get off the boat before it starts?” Allard thought Todd didn’t see him, but Todd had been watching his every move as he’d glanced furtively at the speck that was Long Island. He was not going to ruin Allard’s birthday. “Nah,” Todd said, lifting his chin up. “I’ll be fine.” He was, of course, lying. His stomach lurched as the boat began to move. Involuntarily, Todd felt his hand grip the side of the boat tightly as his other hand threaded naturally between Allard’s fingers. He’d mentioned before that he got seasick, but… He. Was. Not. Going. To. Ruin. Allard’s. Birthday. “How long until we reach the island?” Todd said weakly. “Bout ‘one hour twenty minutes,’ I think they’d said,” responded the tall, spectacled girl sitting next to them. This was the girl that would eventually become one of their closest friends. Melia. She peered more closely at them. “You okay? You’re looking a bit green.” Todd smiled at her placidly, trying not to let himself seem too ill. He decided that not responding would be the best option because if he were to open his mouth, he was afraid he’d hurl immediately. Casting a sympathetic look at Todd, Allard squeezed his wrist, relieving a bit of the nausea. He’d remembered. Well, of course he’d remembered. Allard had always been the better boyfriend. Todd had just reached into his pocket for his seasickness medication and opened the box when the ferry rode over a high wave. Allard reached over, sweeping Todd’s hair away from his face as he yodeled out his lunch. “I’m sorry,” Todd said earnestly to the girl. In silence, she handed him a vomit bag that had seemingly spawned out of thin air. He took it
Young Bloggers
Forest Fire, a poem by Prisha Aswal, 8
FOREST FIRE Sparks Fly Crackling Sound Trees Down On fire Smoke rises up to the Sky Wolves Howl Bears Flee Ash Fills up the Ground Elk Run for their Lives. Birds and Butterflies try To Escape to Sky Crickets, Worms and Ants Fry Thunder Strikes, The Wind Blows, Making it Worse Animals Die Trees Burn, Dogs Bark, Fire Spreads Across, Lives Lost Homes Destroyed , Treasures Gone Memories Turned into Smoke Disappear into the Sky That has Turned Orange and Red.
Rubble
In the summer of 2017, a horrific earthquake hit the Greek island of Lesvos. In the summer of 2017, my family’s village, Vrisia, was reduced to a terrifying pile of fractured, falling buildings and rubble. My memories of Vrisia are damaged and seemingly random, like the items salvaged from the catastrophe-torn buildings. I remember the hedgehog we found on the side of the road that we squirreled away to our garden, my six-year-old hands wrapping tightly around its small, odd-looking body. The hedgehog’s spiky parts weren’t pointy enough to prevent me from hugging him close to my chest. When he escaped from our garden, I nearly cried. I remember the local museum and the preserved shell of a Pinta Island turtle inside. The turtle’s ancient shell seemed impossibly large. The majestic relic of the extinct breed of Galapagos island turtles seemed too foreign to comprehend. My only thought then was that I might strap it to my back and become a turtle myself. I can vaguely recall a Playmobil toy set of Antarctica. There were plastic glaciers that came with a basin you could fill with water. My sister and I played with it for hours. I’d attach the polar bear and penguins to the glaciers and she’d attempt to create a waterfall with the cups of water we were supposed to use to hydrate ourselves. By the end of our playing, we had thoroughly drenched each other. I remember our house. The porch and the tree-like vines that crept above it in a canopy, the unassuming blue door wedged between two other buildings that led down to our home, the room we would sleep in, the color of its walls—all of these things feature prominently in my attempts to reconstruct our Vrisia through memory. Five years and one earthquake later, we’ve returned. The house is still damaged even though my grandmother has been rebuilding these past years. She and my aunts live in Athens, an hour’s flight or an overnight boat ride away from Lesvos. My dad took us on a tour of the village yesterday. It’s strange to stare at a place almost totally changed and have your mind confront you with your younger self’s muddled, distorted, and fragmented memories. “This is the mini-market we would send you to buy groceries from,” he says, pointing at a few bricks surrounded by weeds. A memory flickers in its wake—seven-year-old me walking to the market with her twin sister, her younger sister scuttling behind on her four-year-old feet. The rush of happiness felt at the independence. The old grandmas sitting outside that greet us as we pass. “This is the house of a few of our old friends.” He gazes solemnly at a doorframe standing on its own, surrounded by dead grass and covered in dust. I can imagine a younger version of myself rushing past it on her way to the town square. “Here is the church.” The door bears a bright red spray-painted cross, a marker indicating that the building has been destroyed so much that the best course of action is to tear it down. Each place has a spray-painted cross in green, yellow, or red. Green is the most infrequent of the colors, meaning that a building has suffered little or no damage and is safe to inhabit. When a cross is yellow, there is a severe need for repairs. But the church, one of the primary sources of hope and inspiration in this village—destroyed. We continued to walk. One house resembling a Jenga tower before its collapse had us staring in awe. The front wall was missing, and you could see the slanted, falling floor and all the broken furniture covered in dust and debris. A car honked behind us, and we hurried out of the road. The man drove by, warning us to stay away from the houses—most of them could collapse at any moment. The situation is surreal. I feel like a piece of my identity is crumbling under my shaking fingers and before my petrified eyes. The repairs on our house are done, but we overlook a view of rubble. A bustling village that once housed nearly two-thousand now might be occupied by fewer than two-hundred. There are no open restaurants, most of the houses still need to be torn down or require severe repairs, the local school is damaged, so children are being taught in tiny container houses, and the earthquake destroyed the village’s two factories. Around the world, natural disasters are increasing. Scientists may not have found solid connections between climate change and an increase in earthquakes, but they have found that climate change causes an increased amount of other natural disasters. Central and Northern Europe recently suffered from intense flooding. California suffers from an ongoing drought. People are dying. The effects of humanity’s carelessness are manifesting. After witnessing the destruction nature can cause firsthand, I have only been made more aware of the gravity of our situation. Right now, we can save ourselves. It’s up to the youth to try to heal the Earth before it suffers irreparable damage. It’s up to us to stop our homes from turning into rubble.
