Fiction
Irina sat gingerly on the fluffy gray computer chair. She loved to e-mail her best friend, Maxine, and play trivia games. "Meow!" Irina looked down. Her white kitty jumped aboard the computer table. Irina laughed. "Wanna play too, Annie?" Annie nuzzled the computer. "Irina! Check the chore chart, young lady!" Irina rose from the chair. She walked to the chore chart. Her name was listed, for cleaning her closet, at seven AM. It was nine Am. "Mom, I was on the compu- . . ." Mom cut her off. "Chores come before fun and games, Irina. Now, shut off the Oscar and clean your closet." Irina glanced at the Oscar. The game list was on. Just then, Annie slipped, and pressed the mouse. A trivia game of the show "Perfect Angel" appeared on the screen. "Mom, it's just a few lousy shirts, skirts, and pants! Besides, a trivia game is on for "Perfect Angel!" Mom looked frustrated. "Irina Jess Lashoka! Turn off that darn Oscar, or I will do it myself!" Irina didn't budge, so Mom, filled with rage, went to the Oscar and shut it off. Irina stormed upstairs. She could smell turkey roasting, and biscuits. She went to her closet and sighed heavily. "Stupid closet," she muttered. She took a shirt and flung it on the bed. "Hey!" Irina cried. My old paddleball! I lost it about a year ago!" She dug around and found her old sweater, toy boxcar, stapler, and colored paper clip box. She straightened her clothes and picked up her paddleball. "Irina! The Oscar's free!" Irina glanced at her messy dress drawer, then thought about the computer. Drawer. Oscar. Drawer. Oscar. She went to her dress drawer and straightened them. She looked in her scrunchy drawer. "That looks messy," Irina said aloud. "So does that headband rack. And my beanie babies!" She arranged all her scrunchies by color: dark to bright. She arranged her headbands by brand names: satiny to cloth, vinyl to plastic. She arranged her beanie babies by animal, by alphabetical order. She looked at her room, which was sparkling clean. She went downstairs, and Mom checked her room. "See, honey? When your room is so clean like this, it's enjoyable." Irina smiled as she sat by the computer. She smiled again. The trivia game for "Perfect Angel" was still on.
Fiction
The gravel crunched under the weight of my wheels, and for a moment I held my breath fearing my chair would tip over as one side was lifted as it went over a rock. But my chair righted itself and I continued down the path to the barn. I was certain I could see my heart pounding against my sweater. I hate to admit that I was scared, but I was. I had told my mother to wait in the office. Since the accident, I had needed her help so many times to do so many things, this I wanted to do by myself. I had met Lucy, the riding instructor, when I came here two weeks ago to visit, and I recognized her at once as the only familiar face. I wheeled over to where she was standing inside the barn with a saddle cradled in her arms. She told me to wait while Chelsea, the horse I'd be riding today, was being tacked up. I was too embarrassed to ask what that meant. Then Lucy walked out of the barn into the stable. A flash of color caught my eyes as I sat there. Someone was flying a kite in a nearby field. I watched as the kite dipped and then shot straight up. The kite moved across the sky like a ballet dancer, but thinking about it, it occurred to me that the kite couldn't move on its own. It needs the wind to lift and carry it, and it was connected to a person who controlled it. My thoughts were interrupted by another girl walking into the barn, leaning heavily on a crutch. I sat and she stood for about five minutes in silence before I saw Lucy return to the stable area, now leading a horse. "Am I riding Garfield again today?" asked the girl with the crutch as soon as she saw Lucy, and Lucy nodded. The girl smiled broadly. "I just love my Garfield!" she said, turning toward me. Lucy brought the horse over to me. "This is Chelsea," she said, and then addressing the horse, "Chelsea, this is Clara, she'll be riding you today." She turned to me again, "Do you want to pet her? She won't bite you. Just be really gentle." I reached up to stroke her nose. She snorted and I quickly pulled back. "Chelsea, have some manners! You'll have to wait a few more minutes, Clara. There was a mix-up in the tack room," said Lucy. I nodded, "OK." Lucy walked Chelsea over to a post and tied her to it, then she walked back past me and into the stable area. I drummed my fingers on my helmet, which sat in my lap. I watched the girl with the crutch still leaning against the wall. She was looking into the arena watching the lesson that was going on now. Suddenly, she turned to look at me. This startled me, and I hit my helmet, sending it rolling off my lap. I peered over my knees and looked down at it. I tried to reach it, but I knew that was pointless. The girl with the crutch saw me and started hobbling over to help. "Oh, no, you don't have to . . ." I started to say, but she just shook her head and stiffly bent down to pick it up. Then I realized that she did have to, not her in particular, but anyone. I couldn't even pick something up by myself, I felt so useless. The girl slowly stood back up. "Here," she said, handing it to me. "Thanks," I replied. " I'm Helen," she said, and then pointed to her knee. "Just had surgery done last month. I used to ride a few years ago, so now I'm riding again to help it get stronger." I nodded and replied, "I'm Clara," but refused to tell her why I had come. She didn't seem to mind. Garfield was brought out and Helen gave a little shriek of delight, and rushed over to him the best she could, wrapping her free arm that wasn't holding her crutch around the pony's neck. "Isn't he just adorable?" she asked me. I nodded. Then Chelsea was untied and brought over. Seeing her this second time, with her saddle on and ready to go, made me realize how nervous I really was. Although she was a small horse—maybe a pony—she seemed big to me, looking up at her. "Over here," said Lucy, as she began to lead Chelsea over to the mounting ramp. I followed behind and wheeled up the ramp. Helen followed behind me. I moved my chair as close to the end of the ramp as I possibly could without falling off, and two of Lucy's helpers helped me stand and swing my leg over onto Chelsea's back. I'm so high up! I thought, and as I looked down at the ground oh-so-far below, it was like being at the top of a Ferris wheel. Then Chelsea began to move. It was only one step, but it felt huge and I lurched forward in the saddle. I nearly screamed. Chelsea took another tentative step. There was a big thing moving me and I had no way to control it! "I'm gonna fall off!" I said, as Chelsea was taking her third step. "Relax," said Lucy. "You're not going to fall. See," she motioned to the two side-walkers who stood on either side of the horse holding onto the saddle, "they won't let you fall." "Yeah, we won't let you fall," repeated one of the side-walkers. Lucy handed the lead rope over to a girl who had just arrived, and then Lucy walked into the center of the arena. "Helen! Take the outside. Work on what we were practicing last week with trotting. Kari, bring Chelsea into the center." My leader nodded and led me into the middle as Helen began to circle the outside ring, her leader
Fiction
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. 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 light in the window coloring the room in a pale, yellow glow. There he
Fiction
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. 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 make sure that I had my $709. The day before I had gone to the bank, plus I
Fiction
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." 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.
Fiction
"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. 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 toe, and many branches were broken, or, if they were not, launching themselves in completely
Fiction
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. 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.
Fiction
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 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.
Poems
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.
Book Reviews
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.
Book Reviews
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.
