Eye of the Storm, by Kate Messner; Walker Books: New York, 2012; $16.99 Have you ever thought about what the future will hold? My first thoughts have been drastically altered after reading Eye of the Storm, by Kate Messner. It’s the year 2050, and twelve-year-old Jaden Meggs is going to spend her summer at her dad’s house in Placid Meadows, Oklahoma. It’s no coincidence that Stephen Meggs, her dad and famous meteorologist, lives in Placid Meadows, and he created it as the first StormSafe community ever. Because in the future, the weather is extremely different than today. Huge twisters have been causing chaos all over the planet, even making the tornado scale change. But these deadly storms seem to pass right by Placid Meadows every time, making it a huge bargaining point for Jaden to persuade her mother to let her go to Oklahoma to attend the exclusive science camp called Eye on Tomorrow. With the help of newfound camp friends Alex and Risha, Jaden realizes that something very wrong is going on in Placid Meadows. Suspicions are formed when the data used for the Sim Dome, a simulation system that uses actual wind and buildings to predict how the data will react when faced with the real elements of a storm, fails three times. It was Alex who initially asked Jaden to sneak into her father’s office at the StormSafe compound to get the correct data for their experiment. When Jaden finally carries out the “mission,” they discover a number of things that both shock and scare them. One, Stephen can actually control the tornadoes, and whatever keeps them out of Placid Meadows is a dangerous thing. Two, Jaden’s long-lost grandmother, scientist Athena Meggs, is actually alive after countless years of faking her death. And three, it’s all up to Jaden, Alex, and Risha to stop the biggest storm yet from destroying everything. Although I have never faced down a tornado or gone to an elite science summer camp, last summer my family and I went on a vacation to the Rocky Mountains of Colorado, where we perched as high as the birds in our cabin. Multiple thunder and lightning storms occurred during our stay, and they were always a treat to watch from the safety and comfort of the living room couches—and always with a fire flickering in the fireplace. While witnessing the sheer beauty of crackles of lightning and thunderous, earthshaking booms of thunder from less than a mile away, I was struck with the same feeling that Jaden and her family must have had: while within the gates of Placid Meadows, you were completely safe. But somewhere out there, a tornado was raging, destroying farms, homes, and countryside mercilessly. I also thought about climate change while reading this book. I am concerned that if we do not do something to protect our planet from the potentially disastrous effects of climate change, Jaden’s story might become our reality. I learned from Jaden and her experiences that not only is it necessary to act when something is very wrong, but also that one of the most valuable tools a person can possess is their friends. I would recommend Eye of the Storm to anybody who likes action, a sprinkling of science and technology, and, most importantly, a good read. This is a book of discoveries, friendship, and loyalty. Reading it showed me that, with determination, anything can be accomplished. Sarah Bosworth, 13Snoqualmie, Washington
January/February 2013
Friends Forever
I was just beginning to graze when I heard her whinny CHAPTER ONE THE MARE I ran, the scent of humans growing ever stronger. I had to protect my foal. I nosed her into a crevice, which any human would pass by without a second glance, and then I too followed her into the crack. We had lost the herd from the very beginning. The humans singled us out, a mare and her hour-old foal. Luckily, I knew more of the mountain than they ever would. As we stood there, breathing heavily through our nostrils, our flanks covered in sweat and heaving, I wondered what happened to the rest of the herd. Would we be able to rejoin them, or did they get captured? I shuddered at the thought. But, for the time being, none of that mattered. * * * CHAPTER TWO RACHEL I put Penny away in her stall and waited for my mom to come home from work. I really wanted a horse of my own; I had wanted one since I was four years old. Ever since then, I had begged my parents to get me one, but to no avail. They always said, “Maybe next year.” They had said that for eight years running, and did I have a horse? But my parents had said that if I was responsible and took care of the horses at our stable, they might actually get me a horse of my own soon. I heard my mom’s car pull in and raced to meet it, greeting my mom with the question I always did: “When can I have a horse?” * * * CHAPTER THREE THE MARE I listened carefully. Although I didn’t sense anything amiss, I wasn’t going to take any chances. I had learned that humans can be tricky when they want to. I stayed in the crevice until I was more than sure that it was safe, then cautiously poked my head out. The coast was clear. I led my foal over to a nearby stream and was just beginning to graze when I heard her whinny. I whipped around, ready to fight the hunters, but was pleasantly surprised to find that my foal was just greeting the herd. I excitedly greeted the herd, and we all headed off to find a place to spend the night. * * * CHAPTER FOUR RACHEL As I looked out the window, I saw two lone figures in the distance. Was it…? Yes! It was the mare! And she had a foal! I had been watching the mare for weeks, waiting for her to have her baby. And here it was! Suddenly, I saw a cloud of billowing dust that meant the herd was approaching. I wondered why they had been separated; usually herds stayed together, but I was distracted when I heard a pounding on the stairs that told me my older brother, Daniel, was back from work as a police officer. I flew down the stairs and we nearly collided as I asked excitedly, “Did you catch those mustangers yet?” * * * CHAPTER FIVE THE MARE We finally settled down in a place all but hidden from those human hunters. As we rested and ate, a calming peace fell over us, and we settled down for the night. * * * CHAPTER SIX RACHEL No, not yet, cowgirl,” Daniel replied sadly. “We almost caught up with them at Miller’s place, but his dog ran in front of us and we had to stop so that we didn’t run him over.” “Dang!” I exclaimed vehemently. “Oh, guess what! I saw that mare that looked like she was about to foal.” “So did she have it yet?” “Yup, she had it. I think it’s a filly, but I can’t tell from this far away.” “How do you know it’s a filly?” “Just a guess.” “Well, I bet it’s a colt.” “You think?” Just then our dad stuck his head in the door. “Dinner time, you guys! Hey, what’re you arguing about?” “First of all, we aren’t arguing. We’re debating whether the new foal in the mustang herd is a colt or a filly,” Daniel said. “Yeah, I think it’s a filly.” “Nope. It’s a colt. Definitely.” “Oh, stop bickering, you two,” our dad reprimanded us. Suddenly Daniel’s phone started ringing. “ Hang on.” Daniel fumbled for his phone. He answered it and his face lit up like a child’s on Christmas. “Really? That’s great! Be right there!” He hung up. “That was my boss. He said they have a tip on those mustangers.” “Really? Awesome! I hope you catch them!” “Me too, cowgirl.” * * * CHAPTER SEVEN THE MARE The lead mare suddenly called out a shrill cry of warning, and we had a split second of knowledge before the mustangers whipped us and lashed us into a tiny pen. All of a sudden, we were blinded by blue and red lights, and more men came. They moved the mustangers into a waiting car, and we snorted with anticipation. Then a man moved forward. He started talking to us, and his voice was soothing. We calmed down (minimally). He started to move to the gate. He put his hand down and fiddled with the latch until Pop! We were free! The herd galloped past me and my foal. But my foal refused to get up. Instead she just lay there, ignoring my pleading whinnies. The man closed the gate and said, “I’m very sorry.” Then he took something out of his pocket and took aim. Suddenly, everything was black. * * * CHAPTER EIGHT RACHEL I raced toward the cars parked outside. I had to know what was going on, I had to. When I opened the door and raced to the trailer, what I saw nearly took my breath away. It was the mare and her filly. It was a filly. Just then I saw Daniel and raced over to him, bombarding him with
You Can Reach the Horizon
The bam of the gun and the final wail of his mother—his entire world had fallen apart. The frail windows nearly shattered from the heat of his burning tears streaming down his face, loosening the tight grip of the dust and sand that clotted his eyelashes. The young boy ran through the torn but precious shelter that for years had guarded them from any danger. But now, as he wove through the collapsed door that once stood proud and protective, the young boy realized how alone he was when he faced the vast, open, and finally silent battlefield. Immediately he shielded his eyes from the brightness. But how could that be true if there were no sun in the sky? The young boy realized that it was not the brightness from the beautiful sun, but the glaring gray fog that towered over all of the young boy’s hopes and dreams. Now, the young boy did not want to thrust himself onto the forlorn and desperate battlefield, so he stood on the steps of his home, trying to find his father. Several years ago, when the boy was just a baby, his father had left for war, promising to return and bring wealth to take care of his family. Just before his father disappeared into the cold that lay outside of the warm home, he looked deeply into his father’s eyes—blue and promising. A resolute color he would never forget. Nowhere else in the world that color could be found—neither could the meaning that it held. But then the boy remembered what his mother once lovingly said. “There are only two pairs of eyes that are each other’s reflection—two blues blending perfectly together. Now that is a true bond.” The young boy relived his overflowing hope at that moment, years before, and wished he could have that same amount of hope now. As he searched, the tall weeds rustled and slithered over the expressionless faces from the people of his neighborhood, whose once friendly and hopeful voices rang too clear in his mind. For that one moment, he suddenly felt all the complex twists and turns of life For that one moment, he suddenly felt all the complex twists and turns of life; all the hardships and successes; enduring or achieving, life is a tangled maze of dreams, hopes, and experiences. The young boy came up with this sophisticated thought when he was standing on the doorstep of home, in fact the only one standing, because all others had fallen down. Every part of the young boy’s body ached, his eyes were sore, his throat was tight, his stomach was starving for food, but his legs especially ached, not only because of standing but also because it hurt to be the only one still there when all others had given up on their feet, and in their hearts, too. It hurt because there was no purpose to still be living. It hurt to be alone. The boy wanted desperately for someone to comfort him, for someone to erase his memories of all the times of war. He wanted to fly away to a new land, a new life. But who would he be if he ran away? A coward. A traitor. Someone who never cared about his family. Someone who would dump all the difficulties into the hands of someone they love. The young boy had to stay in the places of hardship. He knew he could not flee. He knew he needed to conquer his troubles. So the young but brave boy stayed. Every day, the young boy gave each collapsed body a flower. He roamed the fields, giving time and appreciation to every soldier. The land was vast and forsaken. It seemed to go on forever. The young boy walked through places where the grass was cut sharp, and places where the cold sliced his skin like knives. He could never reach the horizon, no matter how he tried. The boy walked on, still, the wind slashing at his face, his body becoming numb until his eyes were the only things alive. His blue, but now gray, eyes, reflecting his dirt-filled tears and the infinite sky. Many suns had set before the young boy came to a river. It was a wide one, with ragged waves that reflected its touch-me-not appearance. The young boy dipped his finger into a biting ripple. The water was as cold as his frozen heart, not that he was unforgiving, but that his heart was lost of love. However, he was still alive because his heart urged him to find love. And that’s why he battled across the river. He dove head first into the steel-cold water because the last bit of life in his heart told him that he could not survive without love. The young boy burst out on the other side of the river, his only pair of clothing soaked, and barely able to see. He lumbered up the rocky banks and collapsed on the dry grass. The young boy closed his eyes, thinking about when his journey would end. In a few hours? Maybe he would die from the cold, or the hunger, or the loneliness. Who knows? Suddenly a warm hand laid itself on the young boy’s shoulder. The boy jerked. He hadn’t felt anything warm in a long time. He cautiously turned up his head. Firmness held the young boy’s eyes instantly. Reassurance and calmness swept through his wandering mind. For this one moment, two pairs of eyes were tied in a bond of understanding, gratefulness, and love. Memories from when his father left hovered clear and real. Only, that was when his father left, this was different. It was a finding. It was a color and reflection that defined the boy’s journey. It was so deep, it seemed like the trail was infinite. And his smile was deep, too—one as wide as the horizon—one as true as the color of blue. Lucy Lu, 12Newton, Massachusetts Kian