Rachel loved puzzles. Jigsaw puzzles. Thousand-piece clear-blue-sky and flowery-meadow puzzles. Cute little puppy-dog-face puzzles. Any kind of puzzle suited her fancy. She loved the challenge of putting one together, piece by piece. Discovering the piece that fit was always thrilling and a small victory over the manufacturer who had labeled the puzzle “difficult.” For her thirteenth birthday, Rachel received a package in the mail from her Aunt Lola, who shared her passion for puzzles. When she ripped open the box, she found a one-thousand- five-hundred-piece puzzle with a painting of a colonial farm and the surrounding forest on it. It was very detailed, with a mother working in the garden while two girls hung up the wash and a boy led the cows out to pasture. A farmer worked in the fields and a large wooden barn stood off to the left. At the edge of the field was a forest and a gravel road running through it. The farmhouse and various animals were also included in the busy scene. Rachel sat working on her puzzle: “Colonial Farm: A Painting by George Smits.” She put together most of the puzzle pieces and was working on the forest. Being the imaginative type, Rachel thought the girls didn’t look like they were having much fun. She wondered if those colonial girls could ever have fun like she had, perhaps in the forest. She thought, That would make a good basis for a novel. I wonder if Kathryn Lasky has written anything like that. I should go to the library and find out. As she gazed into the scene, she drifted off to sleep, right on top of the unfinished puzzle She checked her watch and realized that the library wasn’t open. Anyway, she thought, I’m too tired to walk to the library. I’ll go tomorrow. Rachel stared at the puzzle again, searching for the place where a piece with trees on it would fit. As she gazed into the scene, she drifted off to sleep, right on top of the unfinished puzzle. When Rachel woke up, she fumbled around for the puzzle piece she was trying to fit in. Once she found it, she examined it to refresh her memory. It was a clothespin! Not a puzzle piece! Rachel rubbed her eyes. A clothespin? Why, it was. She turned around and found herself facing a girl she had never seen before. “Nan,” said the girl, “why are you staring like that? You look as though you’ve never seen a clothespin before.” My name’s not Nan, Rachel thought. It was then that it dawned on her, though she could scarcely believe it, that she was in the puzzle. Rachel stood up and walked around. Yes, there was the barn and there was the field and there was the mother in the garden. Yes, she was in the puzzle. “Nan, where are you going? We have to finish hanging up the wash!” the girl cried. Rachel decided that the girl was talking to her and she would answer to the name Nan until she got out of the puzzle, if she ever did. She walked back toward the clothesline to join the girl to hang up clothes. After they had finished, the mother called them over to help in the garden. The girl and her mother were soon engaged in a lively conversation about the upcoming quilting bee with some of their friends. “Nan, dear,” said the mother, pausing in her conversation, “it is unlike you to be so quiet. Just yesterday, you were talking up a storm about how a patchwork quilt is just like one of those jigsaw puzzles in John McGregor’s store. You and Cathrine stared at them all morning the last time we were in town, before the world fell apart.” OK, Rachel thought, this is odd, the mother must be my mother and the girl must be Cathrine. My sister, maybe? I wonder . . . Her mother interrupted her thoughts, exclaiming how time did fly and telling her to go help her sister take the wash off the line. Their working in the garden, while holding up a decent conversation, had taken all afternoon! The phrase “time flies when you’re having fun” came to Rachel’s mind, but fun wasn’t the exact word to describe it. Now she knew why the girls in the puzzle weren’t smiling. * * * Dinner had been interesting for Rachel, meeting the farmer who was supposedly her father and the boy with the cows who was her brother. Having onion soup and brown bread to eat instead of lasagna was also different. Now she and Cathrine were talking up in the loft where they should have been sleeping. Actually, Cathrine was doing most of the talking. She kept referring to fun times they had enjoyed together before the world had fallen apart. Rachel, of course, had no idea what Cathrine was talking about and nodded her head in agreement, as Cathrine fondly recalled trips to town and Independence Day celebrations. “Cathrine,” Rachel asked abruptly, “what is this about the world falling apart?” “Oh, Nan, don’t be dense,” Cathrine replied. “You were the one in tears over not being able to go to McGregor’s store because the world was broken. And call me Cath; you always used to. What’s wrong with you? You’ve been so mindless lately.” Rachel shrugged, rolled over, and went to sleep. * * * All the next day Rachel was kept busy with endless chores: working in the garden, sewing, and cooking. As she labored, she pondered what everyone meant by the world “falling apart.” That was the reason for no trips to town, and why they were isolated on the farm. Then she realized that she was in a puzzle, and what did people do to puzzles after they had been put together? They took them apart, of course! That was why her puzzle-family couldn’t go off the farm; the puzzle wasn’t fully put together. But how could
March/April 2000
Teddy’s Eyes
Holly Gapen sighed and switched the elbow she was leaning on. She was stuck in deep thought. Algebra was so discouraging! “Holly?” Holly’s ever-loving mother called. “Holly, it’s dinner time. Lasagna, your favorite.” Holly shuffled her papers, finally done, into her overstuffed binder and groggily stretched her lanky legs that brought her so much trouble. Kids teased Holly because of the fact that she was six-foot-one, really tall for a fifteen-year-old. “Holly, this is my last call.” “Coming, Mom. You sound like a train conductor.” “Toot, toot. Very funny.” Holly’s mother had come into the living room and was flapping a towel toward her daughter, playfully. “Come on, Mom,” Holly complained. She stood up and went toward the dining room. * * * The next morning, Holly awoke abruptly from a terrifying nightmare. She clung onto her teddy bear, Teddy, the only real friend she had. She was sweating and her hands were clenched into hot balls. “Holly, honey,” Mrs. Gapen reassured, “you’re all right. Everything’s OK.” Holly blinked her eyes and woke up. Her dream had been about the state achievement test. * * * Four . . . three . . . one . . . seven . . . open! Holly opened her locker and limply flung her backpack in. She looked toward her classroom and saw Linda Harvey, someone she naturally avoided, strolling toward her. She had a spiral book in her hands. Holly waved shakily and greeted, “W- what’s up?” “Hi, personne grande,” Linda sneered. “What?” Holly scrunched up her face. “You’ll find out in French class, today,” Linda snickered as she pushed her shoulder-length frizzy red hair out of the way of her exotic green eyes. “Well, I guess I’ll see ya around, Linda. I’ve got to get to class now.” Holly backed away from Linda, watching the spiral book get smaller and smaller before it took a turn down the hall. “Bonjour, mes amis,” Miss DuJour greeted her class. “Bonjour, Madame Dujour,” many children chorused. “Today, we’ll talk about features. To be tall is to be grande as to be small is to be petite . . .” Miss DuJour’s voice faded away and Holly was insulted. Kids had turned around and were chanting, “grande, grande . . .” Holly turned away to muffle the chants of her classmates. She was overcome with guilt that she was so tall, so she hid her eyes in her stringy, bleached hair. She was comforted when French was over and retired to the hall. Linda was already waiting for her there. Her normally free hair was pushed back by a plastic headband with teeth that looked threatening. She was holding the same spiral book as before. “Hey, Holly. Whatcha doin’?” Linda leaned against a locker, getting ready to stay there a long time. Holly searched for an excuse in her mind to leave Linda, and thought of after-school activities. “I-I’ve got to get to tennis,” she stammered. This was true. Tennis was Tuesday night. “Yeah, tennis,” she announced more confidently. “OK, yeah, tennis.” Linda was not impressed. “But, you know, could I talk to you for a sec? I’ve got something you might like.” “Well, only for a second,” Holly agreed a little reluctantly. “You know how Coach is if you’re a little late.” Linda had a sparkle in her eyes. She smiled at Holly and beamed with pleasure at someone wanting to talk to her. “Well, it’s about the test.” Linda glanced down at her spiral book and continued. “You know how some of the questions are really hard?” “Yeah.” Holly remembered some of last year’s algebra. “Well, look at this.” Linda opened the book she had been carrying around tenderly and showed Holly the first page. In bold, capital letters, a message was printed. It read: 1999 STUDENT ACHIEVEMENT TEST ANSWER BOOK HIGH SCHOOL She saw Linda Harvey, someone she naturally avoided, strolling toward her “Oh, my. Where’d you find this?” “Doesn’t matter. Do you want to?” “What?” Holly was mortified and asked the question even though she knew the answer. “You know. Come on. It’ll be fun. Imagine—the perfect scores.” Imagine—getting expelled, was what Holly was thinking. But still, so she wouldn’t upset the volcano, she whispered, “I’ll think about it.” Linda seemed pleased with that remark, and let Holly go in peace to tennis. * * * Tennis class was different. Holly was usually a natural leader and played really well. That Tuesday was different. Holly missed every ball that came to her and just wasn’t running fast enough. When practice match time came, Holly was paired up with Ronny Simmons, who was one of the easiest kids on the team to beat. She was occupied thinking about the answer booklet, though, and Ronny beat her easily. Holly sat down after the match next to Coach. He seemed understanding. “Got something on your mind, eh?” “Yeah.” “It’s hard.” He smiled and patted Holly’s back. “Sooner or later, you’ll get to your goal. You’ll make it.” Holly remembered his words as she untied her shoes. You’ll make it. She wondered if she would make it to eleventh grade, and then her mind wandered back to the booklet and all thoughts of Coach vanished. * * * “Honey, how was school?” Holly looked up from her book to stare at her mother. “Fine, I guess.” Holly lied through gritted teeth. If she told her mom, all she would get would be a lecture. They usually lasted at least an hour long. They weren’t what you would call “fun.” “All done with your homework?” “Yeah.” “Get to bed early. Then at least you won’t be so grouchy for the big test day after tomorrow.” “That early?” Holly dropped her book on the floor, then recovered it. “Uh-huh. Be prepared!” Mrs. Gapen cackled like a witch. “Very funny, Mom.” Holly gave her mother her most bored look and resumed her reading. “Well, you better get enough sleep for tomorrow.” Holly’s mother left the room and
The Battle of Lake Trasimene
The first ray of sunlight crept up the Apennine mountain range in central Italy. Above the winding hills and jagged rocks, the bulk of the Carthaginian army was perched above Lake Trasimene, just below a higher cliff. Standing at the edge of the cliff, staring out toward Spain, stood a man. He was wearing a faded red tunic with leathery flaps hanging down at the waist. On his head, a brass helmet sparkled with a dull illumination, reflecting off Lake Trasimene which was below him, and coming back to him in dozens of vivid shapes. A sword was sheathed at his side and a dagger was belted to his waist. His eyes were deep and sorrowful. With his right hand he twisted his deep black beard. In his other hand he held a torch. His expression was cold and sullen. This man was the leader of the Carthaginian army, at the helm of the operation. He was the great war leader Hannibal. He was hoping, no, praying that Spain would remain in the hands of the Carthaginian government. His youngest brother Mago was running the operations in Spain at that time, hopelessly defending it against the sieging Roman legions that encamped all across its borders. From eastern Spain he started the huge trek through the dangerous Alps It was 217 BC, and Carthage, a North African empire and a world power at the time, was engaged in a struggle with the emerging Roman Empire. It was the second conflict between Carthage and Rome, known as the Second Punic War. Hannibal looked back at the sound of his men waking. He looked down again into Lake Trasimene, watching the mist rise from its cool, clear surface, and anxiously awaited his enemy’s arrival. After Hannibal’s father, Hamilcar Barca, was defeated by the Romans in the First Punic War, the Romans had been gloating in their success. Meanwhile, Hamilcar was trying to rebuild his military. However, Hamilcar was killed in battle. His successor, Hannibal’s brother-in-law, Hasdrubal, inherited the control of Spain. But after Hasdrubal’s assassination at the hands of a slave, Hannibal, who was next in line, took over. Not satisfied with Spain alone, he launched several campaigns for the purpose of recruiting mercenaries. He recruited cavalry and spearmen from Spain (which was where his brother Mago’s stronghold was located); cavalry and infantry from Gaul (modern France). He also recruited cavalrymen from Numidia, led by the great cavalry commander Maharbal, and slingers and pikemen from the Balearic Islands. Finally, with his huge army of 90,000 infantry, 12,000 cavalry, and 37 elephants, he was ready to begin his journey. From eastern Spain he started the huge trek through the dangerous Alps. The trip was costly. The harsh weather of the Alps made it difficult for Hannibal. When he finally made it through the Alps into Italy, his numbers equaled about 60,000 infantry, 6,000 cavalry, and most of his elephants had perished. But Hannibal was a brilliant leader, and with the troops he had, he remained in Italy for sixteen years, winning many major and minor battles. Significant among these was the Battle of Lake Trasimene. On the other side of Trasimene, Hannibal’s adversary, Flaminius, the arrogant newly elected Roman Consul, and his army were just now waking from the hard bunks in their temporary legionary base which they had constructed the night before. Legionaries were just now climbing out of the pitched tents and huts. After the legionaries woke, they would put on their thick red tunics. Then began the difficult process of putting on the plate armor. One legionary would help another strap his breastplate to his chest, and also strap on the arm protection and the leg armor. Thick leather embroidered with colored beads hung down from the waist to protect the groin. Then the legionaries would begin the grueling task of taking down base camp. Some would be assigned the task of pulling up the palisades, wooden shafts about three to four feet long with a sharp point at the end that surrounded the temporary legionary bases. Other legionaries took down and packed the tents. Finally, when the base was taken down, the legionaries would take their pilum (throwing javelin), buckle on the gladius (short sword), and strap their packs to their backs. Their packs contained palisades, utensils, rations, and personal items. Finally, after all the tasks were completed, after all the legionaries were accounted for, they began their trek through the tiny gap between Trasimene and the Apennine hills. The Roman army was now on the move. The legionaries, under Flaminius, marched toward Trasimene in search of Hannibal. Flaminius was unaware that he was walking into a trap. Waiting for him in the hills near Trasimene, Hannibal’s men were already strategically positioned to ambush Flaminius and his army. Line after line the Romans marched through, not suspecting that many eyes were watching them from above. The thought of VICTORY was the only thing on the legionaries’ minds as they moved on. Finally, the entrance of the pass was just now disappearing behind the last legionary. The time was now right for Hannibal to act. Out of the noise of clanking armor and humming Roman soldiers came the all too familiar sound of Gallic war cries. Horrible black shapes were now descending down the mountainside. Out of the darkness they came, into the light of the Roman torches, upon the extremely vulnerable Roman force. The torchlight revealed the forms of Gallic broad swords glistening in the moonlight, and also thousands of their wielders. A horde of Gauls charged down behind Flaminius and his army, blocking the only exit. More shouting and cursing from higher up could be heard. The mass of the Carthaginian army was now making itself known on the mountainside, spreading out and revealing its power. When Hannibal gave the order, it charged. As the Romans watched the enemy descend upon them, they noticed something. Out of the storm of swords and axes, sticking up out of the
