CHAPTER ONE This was supposed to be the best summer of twelve-year-old Bryan Carmanne’s life. His dad’s best friend, Bryan called him Uncle Scott, was a manager for the New York Yankees. Bryan was invited to be a ball boy for the team for the whole summer! He would even get to travel with the team to some of the “away” games. “I know it’s your dream to be in the major leagues someday,” Uncle Scott told him when he broke the great news to Bryan. “This will give you a taste of what it is really like to see the big guys in action. I already worked out all of the details with your mom and dad. What do you say? Do you think you can give up your whole summer for the team?” “Oh, I know it will be hard, but I think that Bryan could make the sacrifice for the summer,” his dad said, laughing. “Do you really mean it, Dad? Can I do it? Uncle Scott, will I get to meet my all-time favorite player, Derek Jeter? Do you think I can get his autograph?” Bryan said excitedly. “Not only will you get to meet Derek, but you’ll also work with him and the rest of the team all summer,” answered Uncle Scott. For as long as Bryan could remember, he dreamed of playing in the major leagues. It started when his dad gave him his first baseball glove. He was only three years old, but he and Dad practiced throwing and catching every chance they got. By the time he joined the local baseball team, the coaches all told him he was a natural. Now, he was the star hitter for the Bronx Blasters. His batting average was the best on the team, at .396. His idol was Derek Jeter, the shortstop for the New York Yankees. Once at a Yankees game Bryan caught a home-run ball hit by Derek. Now he had the chance to actually meet and work with him. This was going to be the best summer ever! Whenever Bryan was batting, he always had a feeling of excitement burst right through him “Thanks, Dad, thanks, Uncle Scott. You’re the best!” cried Bryan, jumping up and down. For the next few days, Bryan was ecstatic. Until this morning, that is. It all started when his mom called him into the living room for a “conference.” Bryan could sense he wasn’t going to like what she had to say. She wasn’t smiling, and she wouldn’t look Bryan in the eye. She had a serious expression on her face. His dad was there too, which was a bad sign. “Bryan, there has been a little change of plan for your summer vacation,” said his mom. “The museum has asked Dad and me to go to Egypt for the summer to research that new dinosaur graveyard. We can’t pass up this wonderful chance to continue our research on dinosaurs.” “Son, we can’t take you with us. The excavation site is too dangerous, and we won’t have time to spend with you anyway,” Dad added. “How would you like to spend the summer with Grandma Mildred and Grandpa Chuck in Montana?” “What are you talking about? You know I already have plans with Uncle Scott and the Yankees for the summer,” said Bryan. “Dad and I have to take this research job. We’ll be in Egypt for ten weeks. You can’t come with us because it’s too dangerous,” Mom repeated. “The ranch in Montana will be a lot of fun.” “You call this a little change in plans? How could you do this to me?” Bryan yelled angrily. “Why can’t I just stay with Uncle Scott for the summer?” “Bryan, that’s out of the question. Uncle Scott will be traveling with the team. How could he keep an eye on you? Our arrangement for the summer was for you to work at the Yankees’ home games,” answered Mom, patiently. “You are treating me like a baby! I don’t have a say in anything around here. This is so unfair. I haven’t seen my grandparents since I was two years old. Why do I have to stay with them?” Bryan shouted. “Grandma Mildred and Grandpa Chuck are getting old. They might not be with us much longer. They really want to see you, and get to know you. With all the traveling Mom and I do, we haven’t made time to spend with them. This is a perfect solution to our summer-plan problem,” explained Dad. “You can spend the summer together, and when Mom and I get back from Egypt, we’ll meet you at the ranch and we’ll all be together for a few days.” “Well, I hate this ‘perfect solution.’ I don’t see anything perfect about it. I’ll be stuck in the middle of nowhere with two old strangers. They probably have never even heard of the New York Yankees. This stinks!” Bryan stormed up to his room and slammed his door. “I feel terrible about this,” said Bryan’s mom. “It really is the best way, honey,” replied Bryan’s dad. “I just hope Mom and Dad know what they are in for.” Bryan plopped down on his bed. He stared at his prized possession, the home-run ball hit by Jeter. He looked at Derek’s smiling face on the poster on the wall. Bryan felt like crying, but instead, he punched his pillow. He would never get Derek to autograph that ball now. Spend the summer with his rickety old grandparents whom he barely knew, and give up the Yankees? Were his parents nuts? CHAPTER TWO Bryan woke up on Saturday morning feeling awful. He tossed and turned all night, thinking about how his summer was ruined. He had never felt this angry. His parents were traitors. Around mid-morning he decided to leave the safety of his room and go downstairs for breakfast. “Good morning, Bryan, how did you sleep?” asked Bryan’s dad. “What
July/August 2002
Hungry
It was summer and our family was eating dinner. We were eating food I didn’t like. For dinner we had liver, broccoli and beans. I was hungry but I didn’t feel like eating liver or broccoli. My mom noticed I wasn’t eating and asked, “Dear, why aren’t you eating?” “Mom, I don’t like liver or broccoli,” I answered quietly. My mom had a disappointed look on her face. I was staring at a piece of broccoli when all of a sudden I was back in the past in Berlin. It was a sad, cloudy and cold day in Berlin. The houses there were old and falling down; there were hardly any trees, but when you saw one it would have no branches on it or it would be decaying. Most restaurants and stores were out of business. There was trash littered everywhere and there were people lying on the ground. Their faces were pale and one man I saw was shivering. I felt sorry for these people because I had a home when some didn’t. In one corner I saw a crowd of children by a garbage can. They were arguing over a piece of apple core that had been eaten already. I heard a boy say, “I get to have it because I’m older!” I started walking around the city. Everything looked so sad and so poor. I went into a dark alley when I saw a girl who was about eight years old. She was a small skinny girl; she had blond curls, her clothes were torn and she wasn’t wearing any shoes. She was eating an old fishbone that had a littie chunk of meat left on it. When she saw me she quickly put the fishbone behind her. Then I started going down slowly to the ground and I stopped at Vietnam “Please don’t take it from me. I’m really hungry,” she answered quietly. “Don’t worry,” I quickly replied, “I’m not hungry. How long have you been hungry?” “I’m not sure,” she said timidly, “but I know I’ve been hungry for a long time.” I asked, “Where are your parents?” Her face all of a sudden saddened, then she started to cry. “They died two months ago because of starvation,” she said between sobs. “Please don’t cry. I’m sorry,” I replied. “Where do you sleep at night?” “Oh, I sleep at my house. Do you want to come and see?” she said in a shy voice. But before I could say anything she grabbed my hand and started leading me to her house. I followed her through two alleys and then we were there. It was old and the paint was peeling off, a window was broken, the front steps creaked under my weight when I stepped on it. When we were in the house I saw there was one bedroom, and a small kitchen and living room. The kitchen had a few pots and pans and the stove was wrecked. In the living room there was a small dinner table and three chairs. She took me to her room. She had slept there before with her parents on the same bed. There was a drawer where they kept their clothes, a night table, a chair, a picture of her parents. Then she said, “Sometimes I’m afraid to go to sleep at night but I hug the picture of my parents to comfort me. Once I dreamed of my mom as an angel and she came to take me to heaven, then I woke up. I wasn’t in heaven, I was in my room, and my mom would be gone.” My heart reached out to her. “I think I better be going,” I answered sadly. “Bye,” she replied. “Hope I meet you again soon.” I went to the door and when I got out I was lifted up and started flying at a great speed. I flew past cities and towns. I saw millions of people that looked like tiny little dolls. I just kept on flying and flying. When I was flying past China, I saw so many interesting scenes. Then I started going down slowly to the ground and I stopped at Vietnam. It was a hot day. Vietnam didn’t look as bad as Berlin in the past. There were a lot of straw houses and some brick houses that only the rich could afford. Palm trees were everywhere and there were boats that were loaded with food to sell, and there were stands that sold things like clothes and more food! I started to walk along the dirt roads. I passed an old bridge and saw three boys and two girls. One girl was sleeping on the bare floor. Then a boy quickly ran and grabbed a piece of bread off the ground and ran back under the bridge. “Hey, I got some food!” he excitedly told the others. He started to split the bread and he got the biggest piece. “Why do you get a bigger piece than us?” one of the other boys said. “Cause I got the bread!” he shouted. They started arguing, then fighting. Here sometimes, they would fight for their food, but I could eat as much as I wanted. I had learned my lesson. I started running. I ran up a hill and then I closed my eyes. I didn’t know if it was my imagination, but did I smell broccoli? When I opened my eyes I was back at home! “You fell asleep in the middle of dinner!” my dad said disapprovingly. Whew, I thought, it was only a dream! I started gulping down my food. My parents looked happy now. A little bird flaps its wings, Looking for its nest. The streets look so sad, Flying through the rain. This little bird has no nest, Young orphans have no home. Both are suffering, Both keep wandering. Tran Nguyen, 13Victoria, British Columbia,CanadaTran wrote this story when she was 10 Martin Taylor, 12Portola Valley, California
Bleed Blue
Tall buildings scrape the sky, a murky river gently runs, carrying with it logs and leaves. A graceful arch frames this quiet city. Cars drive down the streets; few people walk on such a hot and humid night, so muggy your knuckles begin to swell. Inside this city a substantial building stands, a building that is so cold you must wear a jacket inside. That’s not why people go there, however. It’s for something much better than that . . . hockey. “Dad! Look at that guy! He has blue oozing out of his head!” “Wow, that’s a great look!” my dad says in his best sarcastic tone as we walk around outside of the Saavis Center, home of the St. Louis Blues. We are the only ones to be seen wearing Avalanche merchandise; everyone else is wearing things that say something like, “St. Louis Blues! Do you bleed blue?” I was wearing my Avalanche jersey that said in big letters, “DRURY 28.” My dad was wearing a sweater with the Avalanche logo. “People are nuts in this town! They all have blue oozing out from somewhere!” I said as I watched people move around and into the stadium. People sit and stare at me in my jersey, hat and pom-poms sticking out from my head. I don’t mind, I like the attention. My dad and I slowly make our way into the cold and crowded building. All over people stare at us, most likely thinking we are some idiots that moved from Denver to St. Louis and are still loyal to our old team! They are not even close! My dad and I have never had a very good relationship; he is always at work and never home. When he does get home it is at one or two in the morning and I am fast asleep. Even if I was awake, he never says much, and when he does it’s, “Hi, how was your day? That’s good. You should be in bed.” That’s it. I barely knew him and he barely knew me, or so I thought. It was Mother’s Day when my dad brought up the idea; he made it sound like it could never happen, but I knew it could! He said that we should drive all the way from Denver to St. Louis and get tickets to see the Avalanche play the Blues during the Stanley Cup playoffs. This took me by surprise; how did he know I loved hockey? Why was he suddenly after twelve years wanting to spend time with me? He said that getting the tickets was the only thing stopping us . . . oh, and my mom. I would have to convince Mom that it was OK if I missed four days of school, and that it was OK that Dad and I be gone for that long. I knew I could convince Mom, the only problem was the tickets. We started with the woman who works for my dad (her family is in St. Louis). She called her parents and they said they would get back to us. We waited all day and had still gotten no answer. Both of us knew that if we got tickets we would have to leave day after tomorrow in order to make it to the first game. By night we had heard nothing and Dad had given up, but I had not, and would not. I went to school the next morning as if nothing had happened, and halfway through the day I got a message saying to call my dad. I did, and the first thing he said was “Wanna go to St. Louis?” Tears filled my eyes, I would finally get to know my dad. The air was filled with all kinds of noises as we fought our way to our seats with bags of popcorn and Pepsis, and after we sat down we paid more attention to our surroundings. Next to me was a couple who looked shocked, and I smiled at them just to get a glare back. I get it, I thought, they just don’t understand that we are not crazy fans that are there to torment them! One and a half minutes into the game and we have three goals! Bourque, Messier and Tanguay. Boom, boom, boom! Everyone is sitting there with this look on their faces that says to the goalie, “How could you do this?!” We are standing tall, the only ones in the stadium cheering and yelling! The people next to us stand up and leave! While we celebrate! Together. We are standing tall, the only ones in the stadium cheering and yelling! The rest of the first period goes by and most of the second, when the lady who is sitting in front of us leaves and returns with a small bag that she hands to us. I open it to find a puck that says St. Louis Blues. “I wanted you to have something to remember this trip by,” she says. Later at the middle of the third period the score is 3-3, and we have come to know everyone around us. The man behind us comes up the stairs with his sixth or seventh beer; he sits down and soon cracks up at his friend’s joke. I feel a cool liquid dripping down my back, everyone gasps, and he says over and over again that it was not on purpose. The liquid is beer. My dad immediately perks up, “You bum! What are you doing pouring beer on my daughter? You don’t ever do that again! I’m very tempted to call security on you!” He actually stood up for me. At the end of the game it’s still 3-3. The tense overtime begins. Everyone’s hearts are racing, pounding, beating, and throbbing inside their chests. This is it. One goal and the game’s over. Seconds go by, then minutes; each team has equally good chances but no pucks go in.
