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July/August 2010

Masked

“I- I- I’m going to the Masked Ball?” she stuttered Gemma was shielding herself from a sandstorm of dandelion seeds. Her tutor, Dominick Vickson, and herself were right at the core of a lush field. “As you can see,” Dominick called above the strong summer wind, as they made their way through the long, fine, green stalks, “wind is another form of seed dispersal. So that makes…” He choked on a mouthful of seeds, and coughed them out. Gemma giggled behind her hand and finished the sentence for him. “…that makes three different ways of seed dispersal we’ve learnt today!” Dominick nodded approvingly. They had almost reached the village smothered by the thick forest pines on the other side of the field. “And can you remember what they are?” he tested her. Gemma thought for a moment, recalling their trek through the woods, then snapped her fingers. “The first one we learnt was how the seeds sometimes get stuck in a passing animal’s fur, then fall off later,” she replied carefully. “The second one was how they eat the seeds and— well—excrete them,” she blushed but shook it off. “And we just learnt the third,” she said with a grin, as Dominick managed to get another mouthful of dandelion seeds, “…seed dispersal by wind!” *          *          * Soon they were back in the village. The ripe, orange sun was low in the sky, staining the horizon a horrifying yet fascinating red. Gemma was bathing in the river that trickled be-hind the small log cabin that she and her parents lived in. The water was cool and refreshing, gurgling and bubbling happily as it streamed along like an endless cord of blue ribbon. As she washed, a twittering bird caught her attention. Its wings were a deep, eye-catching turquoise; its chest was a soft, plush orange and it had a white underbelly. The bird’s beady black eyes darted back and forth, as it hopped along the bank. It must be a bluebird, Gemma thought, look at that magnificent sheen! Suddenly, her mother walked out of the back door of the cabin, startling the bluebird. “Gemma, your tutor is here to see you.” Her mother smiled. “And he’s brought the loveliest clothes with him! You’d better dry yourself off, then greet him.” She handed Gemma a clean linen towel that had been left outside to be baked by the sun. “I’ll be right there!” Gemma exclaimed, hopping out of the river and gladly taking the warm sheet to towel herself off with, from her mother. *          *          * Gemma walked in, her curling raven-black hair pulled back into a ponytail. Her red cotton dress creased as she sat down on the chair opposite Dominick. “Hello!” she said cheerfully. “Haven’t today’s lessons ended?” He beamed. “Well, this isn’t really a lesson,” he said. Unable to contain himself, he blurted it out, “Have you heard of the Masked Ball?” “No.” Instantly, a flashing yellow question mark appeared in Gemma’s head. It was her weakness—a thirst for knowledge. “Well,” Dominick explained excitedly, “it’s a marvellous ball that happens every year, and the theme is masquerade. All the famous scientists, writers, mathematicians and artists meet there every year and exchange information. The fun part isn’t the elaborate dresses, delicious food or bittersweet drinks; it’s the fact that you have absolutely no clue as to the identity of the person you’re getting information from, because all of these great, talented people are masked. And so you will be too, Gemma.” He stopped for breath, panting. Dominick pulled out a beautiful black mask from his satchel, along with a dark blue gown of silk and pair of pearly white shoes. Gemma’s eyes widened as she realized what he meant. “I- I- I’m going to the Masked Ball?” she stuttered. Her heart was pounding wildly, she felt the blood pulsing ecstatically inside her. She would get to meet all of those wonderful people! She, Gemma Burberry, would become a masked guest at this extravagant event! “I’m not even on the guest list though!” she cried, more with excitement than doubt. “How can I get in?” Dominick grinned. “That’s the sneaky bit,” he said. “My Aunt Jennifer is the cousin of the man who runs the catering at the ball. She was invited to come along and mingle with the guests, but sadly she caught pneumonia and can’t go. Instead, we’ve agreed that you, a young scholar with plenty of potential, should go instead. Your name from then on will be Jennifer Vickson.” “But what if the catering man mistakes me for your aunt?” Gemma gasped. “He’ll certainly be there!” “No he won’t,” Dominick replied calmly. “He’s gone down with pneumonia too—who do you think my aunt caught it from?” Gemma sat down, not even realizing she had stood up in the first place. There was nothing stopping her. Nothing blocking her way from becoming a guest at the Masked Ball… what should she do? A smile slowly began to spread on her face, as sweetly and willingly as hot butter on toast. “Of course I’ll go,” she said. “I’d be crazy not to!” *          *          * Meanwhile, the ball was taking place. Lords and ladies, scientists and amateurs, all gathered under the brilliant, golden light that leaked through the crystals of the grand chandelier, which hung suspended over their heads. The floor was a cool marble, the tables all of the smoothest oak, even the curtain cords were tied in fancy silver bows! But the highlight of the evening was the masks. Oh, what a variety! There were red masks of velvet lined with gold tissue; menacing black masks adorned with long, dark feathers; pleasant, solid blue masks with shining silver pearls. Suddenly, the chatter subsided as the doorman led another person into the room. It was a young woman, wearing a soft, navy-blue dress and an intriguing, mysterious dark mask almost as black as her hair. Eventually, the noise grew back to its usual level. The girl

The Sparrow

We dodge branch after branch, but I can’t seem to get him off my tail I glide gracefully, looking down at the world below me. I swoop over the trees, adjusting my wing to catch the breeze. I feel the strong winds blow over me, calming my thoughts. I am a sparrow, I think to myself. I am me. As I think this, I get a bad feeling. I look up. Up, high in the sky, regarding me with beady eyes: a hawk. I don’t take time to recognize what kind. Knowing I’ve noticed it, it dives at me, screaming. Knowing it will be easier to escape, I dive, too. Down, down towards the trees. Though I am already lower, the hawk is faster. It is a race for safety. We both fly to live. I fly to escape the hawk, a predator. It flies to catch prey, to eat. One of us must lose. The hawk is too close. It stretches its talons, ready to catch me and fly away before it crashes into the tall trees. I realize quickly that speed is not the answer to survival. I am a sparrow. I am agile. The question lies in the unknown, though. It may be intimidating, but is it any match for me? There is no time to think. It rakes its talons forward, hoping to win the contest of survival, but I am not ready to give myself up. I flap my wings and flit to the right. It is not ready for that move. It puts on the brakes, which gives me time to escape and plan my next move because I know that it will not give up until it has caught me. I may not be able to escape completely, but I can put death off until I have reached the bottom of the hill of life. I have already climbed to the peak, and I am climbing down, wishing there was not a bottom waiting for me. The hawk flies a sharp turn around, and as it streaks at me, I feint to the right and dive down again. Swooping and diving, he chases me where I hoped he would: down into the trees, where there is an obstacle course of branches as an arena. As I pass under the treetops, I am surprised by the sudden dimness. I can’t see him for a second, but then he is there right behind me. We dodge branch after branch, but I can’t seem to get him off my tail. My wings are sore, and I am getting tired, and yet, I still fight for my life. Suddenly, I see him putting on an extra burst of speed, and I feel his sharp talons finally closing around me. I tuck my wings into my body, knowing he will carry me away. The claws cut into me, causing pain throughout my entire body. The talons pierce further into my body. The hawk flaps his wings, lifting us higher, up past the treetops into the bright light of the sun. I twist my head to look up at him. In the glare of the sun, I make out his eyes staring straight ahead of him. They seem to tell me, “That’s just the way it is.” And I know that it is true. The race has ended. And I have lost. I close my eyes. *          *          * THE HAWK I carried the sparrow away from the forest. I could sense him looking up at me, and I looked straight ahead. I would not give any mercy. I did not look down as, slowly, his breathing stopped. I carried him towards my nest to feed him to my little eyases, my babies. I tried not to respect the brave little bird who was now lifelessly clutched in my talons. I did not like thinking those thoughts because hawks should be fearless. I had to kill him to keep my precious youngsters alive. I flew towards the sun with my strong wings pumping at a steady beat. Lulu Russell, 11Marion, Massachusetts Candace Tong-Li, 11Scarsdale, New York

River God

We sat there, under the tree, our tree. The tree with the leaves that spread to the sun like helping hands. The tree with the tall trunk and cool shade. “It’s hot,” I complained, fanning myself with the back of my hand, the mid-August sun beating down from the unforgiving sun. Mimi stood up. Her long dark hair draped down her back and her rosy face was pink. Jared and I stared at her in confusion. “We have been sitting here all day, complaining about the heat. I want to go hiking into the woods. My mom was talking of a small stream she found while she was exploring the new hunting trails.” And with that Mimi marched off. Jared looked at me and I looked at Jared and we both stood up to follow. Our tree stood on a hill looking over the dark, forbidding woods. Those trees were black and tall in a way that our tree was not. Those trees rose like mountains until they seemed to scrape the glaring cloudless sky. They whispered about some untold secret when the wind passed, rattling together with a sound like bones. It was for this reason that I stopped at the forest’s edge. Long, thick, parched stems of grasses pressed up against my legs. A small red-and-black ladybug was crawling, ever so slowly, up one of the stems. It reached the top, lost its footing and fell. “Emma, hurry up!” Mimi’s voice was impatient and I could see her far ahead, through the trees. Her yellow summer dress stood out like a ghost against the dark trunks and I hurried to catch up. But the most amazing part of her beauty was she seemed to emanate a faint, silvery glow We followed no path in particular. The forest floor was carpeted with leaves, which had fallen in the late summer drought, making the ground crunchy and hard to see. There were no birds and no small animals. No, they had all fled, searching for water somewhere else. We reached the place. A place where the trees were green and lush and the grass sang. When a gust of wind blew, it sang of joy and happiness and life. There were rocks beyond the grass that led to a river. Not a stream, as described by Mimi’s mother, but a rushing, swishing, pouring river. The water was a clear, beautiful, turquoise blue. Mimi flung off her shoes and ran to dip her toes into the water and Jared followed not too far after. We hadn’t seen this much water in a long time. My feet dipped under the cold surface and felt the hard, round pebbles of the riverbed between their toes. Jared gasped and I looked up. On the opposite shore was a woman. She was tall and slender. Her hair was thick and hung in ringlets around her face. She wore a white dress though her feet were bare. But the most amazing part of her beauty was she seemed to emanate a faint, silvery glow. I glanced sideways at Jared and his mouth was hanging open. I longed to shut it and ask this wonderful lady to forgive his rudeness, but I didn’t. She opened her mouth and the word came out like a tumbling waterfall, fluent and enchanting. “Come.” Jared stepped forward as if under a spell. Somehow, he crossed the river and stood beside her. She grabbed him by the arm and ran with a wonderful grace. Mimi screamed and ran after her, sloshing through the racing river. The woman paused just inside the trees and looked back. Her eyes grew dark and hard, they seemed to grow bigger and bigger until they swallowed everything else. The world tipped under me and all was quiet. My eyes fluttered open and I was back under the tree, our tree, with Mimi and Jared beside me. Something was different and I looked up to see the sky open in a torrential downpour. Virginia Mason, 12Hoboken, New Jersey Zoe Yeoh, 12Salem, Connecticut