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100% written and illustrated by kids ages 6-13

July/August 2005


By

Stranded

PROLOGUE   The words were like white-hot knives plunging into Tom’s skin. His mahogany eyes were flaring at his parents’ shouts. “You’re banned from GameCube!” “You’re grounded!” “No allowance!” All Tom wanted was to run far, far away from here. His two little sisters, Hannah and Beth, huddled in a corner, wide-eyed with fear. Tom could take it no longer. Roaring like an angry lion, he charged out the door and slammed it behind him. All Tom wanted was to run far, far away from here Tom was running like a rocket, his fine-tuned sprinter’s legs pounding the ground. He didn’t care if he had to slam through a brick wall, he just wanted to run. And it was pure coincidence that the first things Tom slammed into were his best friends, Andrew and Henry, CHAPTER ONE Wham! Tom fell to the ground, stunned by the sudden impact. Andrew lost his balance and started pinwheeling his arms. Henry, who had taken the impact full force, flew backwards and fell flat on his back, the wind knocked out of him. After Andrew regained his balance, he walked over to Tom and helped him up. “Are you OK?” “Fine,” Tom replied. Tom couldn’t help feeling a bit envious of Andrew. After ten years of hard training, starting at age three, Andrew had convinced his father to sign a contract with the WWF stating that Andrew would be a pro wrestler when he graduated from college. Henry staggered over, gasping for breath. “Man, you sure know how to rip a person’s shirt.” He looked down and added, “And his jeans!” Andrew spoke up. “Why were you running?” Tom shot a look at him. There was a long silence. Both Henry and Andrew knew what Tom meant. Tom had been failing in math for months. After many comments from the teachers, his parents blew a fuse. A sudden noise broke the silence. It was the sound of a car speeding down the road. “It’s my mom!” Tom shouted, and they took off down the sidewalk. Henry, who was a little chubby, fell behind the other two. The SUV pulled up alongside Henry. Tom’s mother rolled dawn the window. Her pumpkin-colored hair was frazzled with stress, and even though she was wearing shades, Henry could tell there was a lot of anger in her eyes. “Have you seen Tom anywhere?” she asked politely. “Yes, ma’am. I saw him run past the school a minute ago,” Henry lied. “Thanks, honey,” said Tom’s mom, and she sped off down the street. Henry caught up with Andrew and Tom and they decided to hide in the community boathouse. “I stole the keys to our boat,” Tom smirked. “There are plenty of islands off the coast. I’ll just sail over to one of them and stay for a couple of days.” “What about us? You’re not getting all the fun!” For the second time in two minutes there was a long silence. The boys’ eyes drilled a hole through him as they waited for his reply. “OK! OK!” Tom sighed. “You two can come along, but it’s your own lives you’re messing with.” Andrew beamed, “Thanks, dude!” Grabbing a flashlight from the boathouse floor, Henry smiled, “Be prepared!” CHAPTER TWO The boys pulled the boat out onto the beach. Henry was dripping with sweat, muttering something under his breath, while Andrew was lifting it as if it weighed as much as a puppy. As for Tom, he was doing as well as an average twelve-year-old sprinter should, pretty well, but stumbling now and then. Finally, after what seemed like an hour, they set the boat down with a hollow thud. Henry wiped his forehead. “Man, the only way I could take a step carrying that boat was to say its name over and over. Salmon, Salmon, Salmon! It makes my mouth water!” The Salmon was sleek and smooth, like its namesake. The sail had a picture of a fish leaping up a waterfall. Tom smiled slyly at Henry and said, “You know, Henry, you really should get in shape because not all boats have appetizing names. See that one over there? It’s called the Bloody Head.” Henry gave a little gasp of horror when he saw the image on the sail. Tom smiled as the sea sprayed his face. He knew this was where he belonged Andrew gave a sharp whistle and shouted, “It’s time to cast off.” Giving the Salmon a final shove, they scampered onto the boat. Henry went to the navigation room, Andrew to the sails, and Tom to the wheel. Tom smiled as the sea sprayed his face. He knew this was where he belonged. Henry was deep in thought. He was thinking about his social life, as they called it at school. Ever since kindergarten, every kid but Tom and Andrew had made fun of his chubbiness. Here was a chance to earn their respect. He was taking part in an adventure that no one in the history of Ponce de Leon Middle School had ever done before. He and his friends were running away; they were outlaws! CHAPTER THREE Andrew was looking across the water when something caught his eye. It was a huge mass of clouds moving across the sky. Suddenly the wind started to howl and the thunder boomed. The rain poured down and water churned around the Salmon. The Salmon creaked and groaned as she rocked back and forth. Then, out of nowhere there was a sucking sound. The boys looked behind them and saw a fifty-foot wall of water towering above them. Unbelievably, it grew still higher and then with a deafening crash it thundered down upon the Salmon. Tom was flattened against the deck. He felt like he had been body-slammed by a sumo wrestler. With his strength to hold on failing, his last thought was of his fight with his parents. Then everything went black. Tom was now at the mercy of the roaring sea. CHAPTER


By

A Story to Tell

Imagine being lost in the New York City train station with people you don’t know. Imagine a four-year-old kid in the middle of the stairway, scared and confused. Imagine a crowd all around you, and there’s nowhere to go. Who was that four-year-old kid that got lost in the train station? I was that four-year-old, and I was alone and afraid. I went to preschool in Chinatown. I always came home at around six o’clock, so my grandma would pick me up. “Let’s go and buy some fruits!” my grandma would say every time she picked me up early. “Look, Grandma! Look at all the fruits we bought!” I said one day. “Yes, we bought so many fruits! Now let’s get home and put them away,” my grandma said when we got to the train station. Since there were so many bags of fruits, it was hard for my grandma to see if I was beside her or not. Ding-dong! The doors of the train started to close. I looked up and I didn’t see my grandma. I looked from one side to another. Every way I turned were more people, but none of them were my grandma. People pushed and shoved me as they passed by I thought I would get bruises soon. I got real scared and slumped to the floor. My heart started pounding and my hands started shaking. I got up and started calling for my grandma. “Yes, we bought so many fruits! Now let’s get home and put them away” “Grandma!! Where are you?” I yelled. I spoke in all three Chinese languages, but there was no sign of my grandma. I started to feel the urge to throw up, but I continued to call. “Have you seen my grandma? Have you seen my grandma!?” I asked many people, but all of them said, “No,” or shook their heads. I started to cry, and the noise filled up the station. I was hoping my grandma would show up, and I would be by her side again. “What is that racket?” the train conductor said. “Huh . . . better open the doors.” As the doors opened, I turned around. I saw a familiar figure inside. She had loads of bags. I peered inside and the bags were full of fruits. I looked up at the person. That person was my grandma! She looked at her side and saw no one beside her. She looked up again, shocked to see me outside in tears. I ran inside and held her tight. I started to wipe my tears from my eyes. “Where were you?” my grandma asked. “I was outside!” I answered. “I thought you were beside me.” As I held my grandma, I didn’t feel fear anymore. I stopped shaking and my heart stopped pounding. All I felt was relief, and I felt safe when my grandma held me. I was glad I got through that, and I was happy to be beside my grandma once again. “See, Grandma, that was exactly what happened,” I said as I ended the story. “That’s quite a story,” my grandma said, “but I don’t remember that happening when you were four. I think you were three, no four, no three. Hmm .” “But that’s the way I remember it,” I said, while my grandma and I entered the subway to go to 34th Street. “Well, I remember it differently. But it’s a little hard to remember. I mean, look at you now. You’re eleven years old now.” She looked at me and smiled. I smiled back. “So what do you remember?” I asked. “I remember you were very little, yes, we were coming home from school. There was a crowd in the elevator down on our apartment lobby. You went in and I didn’t. Suddenly, the doors closed and you went up,” my grandma answered. “Oh I remember, I went up, you went down, up, down. Then we finally met,” I said and giggled. “But I remember that, and I remember getting lost in the subway too,” I said. “Maybe you dreamt it,” my grandma answered. “But I know it happened,” I replied. “Maybe you remember it, but I don’t,” my grandma answered, and started to laugh. “Maybe it was when I went to the laundromat and you were asleep at home. You woke up and couldn’t find me. Heh heh . . . you were so small and you opened the big door!” my grandma said. “Really? I don’t remember that,” I said. “Heh heh. You see, you don’t remember and I do. You were way too young anyway,” my grandma replied. “I think it was 34th Street. I saw red poles, and Grand Avenue has blue poles. You know, when I got lost,” I said. “Maybe,” my grandma said. Ding-dong! The doors opened in front of 34th Street. My grandma and I stepped outside. I looked at the train before we got on the escalator. “Maybe it was a dream . . . but it felt so real,” I said to myself. I got on the escalator and it started to go up. That day when I was four was the first time I got scared so badly I looked at my grandma, and felt safe. I looked back one last time, and smiled. Maybe it was a dream, but it sure gave me a story to tell. Amy Xu, 11New York, New York Chloe Hamilton, 12Bakersfield, California


By

Beyond the Dance

Beyond the Dance, by Chan Hon Goh; Tundra Books: New York, 2002; $15.95 When I first saw the cover of Beyond the Dance, I thought it might be a book that was just about dance technique. But, as the saying goes, you can’t judge a book by its cover. As I started reading, I found that Chan Hon Goh was writing not just about her dance career, but also about her life growing up in Communist China where the government was very unsupportive of artists. I was sad to learn that Chan’s parents, who were both dancers, had to split up for a year while Chan’s father sought artistic freedom in Canada. From the moment I started reading, I was rooting for Chan and her family to be successful in their search for freedom. I have read several books before about totalitarian governments, but this book addressed a subject of great interest to me: how artists can be affected by politics. Living in America all my life, I appreciate even more, after reading this book, how fortunate I am to be able to write and dance without opposition from the government. I feel connected to Chan in several ways. We both love to dance, and take it very seriously. When she was eleven, Chan set high goals for herself as a dancer. I have always had a dream of being a principal dancer in Swan Lake or Giselle—two famous ballets that Chan has gone on to perform as an adult. There are things other than dance that Chan and I have in common. One is that we both moved when we were eleven (as I write this review, I am preparing to move). Chan’s move from China to Canada was extremely difficult because she spoke no English. My move from Connecticut to Manhattan will involve my getting used to living in an apartment instead of a house, going to a new school, making new friends, and adjusting to life in the big city. But while my move will be only around sixty miles, Chan’s move took her halfway around the world. Beyond the Dance offers great advice to everyone, not just to dancers. The author recommends that people who want to become better at what they do should create personal challenges, and try to believe in themselves. My favorite part of the book was when Chan, at seventeen, auditioned to get into The Prix, a dance school that only had a few openings. She had worked so hard, and made it to the semifinals, but assumed she had not been accepted, and left. Later that day, she went back to one of the judges to ask what she could do to become a better dancer. I admired that, even though she was disappointed, she wouldn’t let anything stop her. I won’t give away what happened, but I was happy and encouraged by the way things turned out for her. Chan’s life and career are fascinating, so I strongly suggest that you read Beyond the Dance. I admired the strong descriptions of both the good and difficult times Chan faced in her life, and how she dealt with each. I found myself relating to so many of her experiences, and was able to appreciate the advice given throughout the book about persevering for what you believe in at all costs. Beyond the Dance is a book that truly goes beyond just dancing. It is an autobiography that is great for anyone at any age. Karlen Schreiber, 11New York, New York