January/February 2012

The Mighty Jump

This was it. I could see it in front of me. The stream was ending. I had to jump. The strong current was blinding. The mischievous drops of water were going against me. I picked up speed. Flapping my tail fin one hundred times a second. Propelling forward faster and faster. I jumped. Elegantly soaring through the air. Slipping right through a grizzly bear’s jaws. I could see the open sky above, and the rushing water crashing below. Then just like that, I gracefully slipped through the quiet and frigid waters. My adventure was over. Ella Rogers, 10Lake Forest Park,Washington

A Night of Fire

A gloomy hole sheltered the shivering cardinal during a raging thunderstorm. The hole was an incomplete snake house, burrowed with consummate skill. The cardinal knew he had to get out before the hole filled with rainwater. Ever so carefully, he worked his way up the shallow passage, his gorgeous red feathers now streaked with dirt. He chirped desperately; he was stuck, as water started to fill the shelter. The cardinal used his last shred of energy to try to push his way out, but it was no use. As thunder boomed and lightning cracked, the cardinal knew he was done, knew it was all over. Just a few seconds later, a branch broke off the nearest tree, crashing to the ground beside him! The cardinal opened one eye, but the limb had not widened the hole on impact with the ground. The branch was no help to him. But he was wrong! A child had heard the branch fall as she was running home through the storm with drinking water for her family. The limb blocked her path, and as she bent to move it the stranded cardinal caught her eye. He looked up at her, up to his neck in water, and took in the girl’s appearance. She was tall, with deeply tanned skin and a jet-black braid down her back. Her eyes were a liquid brown, kind, yet reserved. She had on moccasins and a deerskin beaded dress. “I am Jessica,” the girl solemnly spoke. “I will help you.” She gently helped free the bird from the earth and rain. Noticing how filthy he was, she sprinted into a nearby cave, lightning flashing all around her. In the cave, she sacrificed her family’s drinking water to clean him. The brown streaks finally gave way and revealed a brilliant red coat of feathers. As he flew away, he seemed to set fire to the trees Jessica stared at the now sleeping bird, transfixed. Huddled in the cave, she waited out the storm. When the cardinal woke up, it did not move. “I will name you Fire, for the wings on your back and the glimmer in your eye,” Jessica said. Worriedly, she gently lifted Fire. He simply perched on her hand, gazing at her steadily, trustingly. She tossed him in the air. He flew around her head, made a loop-de-loop, and sat back down on her shoulder. She giggled. “Show-off.” Together, the improbable pair sat in the cave, and Jessica fed Fire some jerky, until he was comfortable enough to come over again, grab the meat, and eat it sitting right on her head. Even so, the little night of fun was bittersweet, for Jessica knew she would have to let Fire go when the storm let up. As soon as it was over, she murmured a little goodbye to him and set him loose to go back to his family. Jessica watched the sun make dancing rainbows on the wet cardinal’s wings. As he flew away, he seemed to set fire to the trees. Jordan Dunaway-Barlow, 13Houston, Texas Megan Knizak, 13Georgetown, Massachusetts

Navy-Blue Cloth— Words and Pain

I hope he’ll never forget, he is Kathryn’s dog. My dog “He was mostly your dog.” The words flew in flurries around my head. I shall never forget them. “He was mostly your dog. Mostly your dog. Your dog. Dog.” Never-ending words, a round of angels whispered in my head. A comfort I drank like I would drink elixir. I found a blanket in those words. A mission. A dream that could never be reached. To find him. For the few of us who have suffered this particular loss, you know how it is worse than a pet dying. Knowing that somewhere out there, he lives. Hickory was a flurry of a pup. His brown and black spots said splatter paint, and his black hole eyes had an overflowing cup of happiness. “I have a home!” they seemed to shout, “I have a home!” But he was afraid of my dad. Hickory was abused as a young dog and was separated from his only friend, his sister. We figured, over time, he must have thought my dad was the one who abused him. In the car, we were shouting out names. We didn’t want the pup to be called Hickory. “Juice Box!” “Bennett!” “Clifford!” “Henry!” “Wags!” “Greg!” “JUICE BOX!” Then we heard the words on the radio, “Mason-Dixon Road Line.” Bing. Ding. Bingo! Dixon. Dixon. Dixon. The words curved on my tongue, the way a flower does when it wilts. They floated like clouds above our heads, in a navy-blue cloth. Then they shimmered, and whoosh! Out the window they went, to tell the newspaper, the state, the country, the world, the universe about our dog. Dixon. But good things never last. Two years later, October 16th, he is taken away. Whooshed out of my world, like those navy-blue words were, two years before. Gone from my life. But this time, the whoosh had great pain in it. My calender became filled. On every Friday it read “eight Dixon weeks,” and so on. It had a hopeful look. All my possessions did. We all were holding our breath, we all longed for Dixon to come home, like that Lassie dog did. I still do dream he will. I know he is out there. I hope he’ll never forget, he is Kathryn’s dog. My dog. If you happen to come into my house one day, October 16th, you will come across six people wearing everyday clothes and doing everyday things. But if you travel upstairs, you shall see a girl with straw-colored hair, wearing dark-colored clothing, and in her hands a black band with three tinkling things on it. You shall be curious, so you shall come closer. You will see in her white-with-anger-and-sadness hands, a collar. Of a dog, who shall always have a home in her heart. And if by chance you go by New Hampshire one day and see a dog that is white and black, with splatter-paint spots and black hole eyes, you know who he is. Make sure his cup is overflowing with happiness. Rub his ears, and tell him these simple words, “I will always love you.” Kathryn Malnight, 11Wayland, Massachusetts Alondra Paredes, 12Bentonville, Arkansas