It was early in the morning with a nip in the air when my dad and I went canoeing. We were on Boot Lake at Half Moon Trail Resort, going canoeing to see the beaver and any other morning animals. When we were walking down to the canoe everything was calm. I felt peaceful. Fog was rising off the lake, some birds chirped, and everything was still. It was very pretty out. “Look,” my dad whispered We got to the lake and pushed the canoe into the water. Then we climbed in. We sat for a moment. Then my dad whispered, “Paddle silently.” It felt as silent as a classroom during a test. I watched the calm water turn into ripples as I pushed it away with my paddle. I still felt calm and relaxed gliding over to the beaver dam. “Look,” my dad whispered. I looked up in the sky. Spiraling over the trees was a hawk searching for something to eat. Then a loon called out, breaking the silence. The loon was a few feet away. All of a sudden the canoe slowed to a stop. I looked over at the shore. There was a pile of sticks. “The dam,” I exclaimed. My dad held a finger to his lips and pointed to the water. A beaver was swimming toward the dam. I held my breath and watched. SLAP! The beaver suddenly slapped his tail, warning us. Then it sped off into the dam. I let out my breath slowly, feeling safe and calm. The sun was starting to peek over the horizon when under my breath I said, “Wow.” Heather Goff, 9 Eagan, Minnesota Ksenia Vlasov, 11Katonah, New York
March/April 2003
A Greater Goode
A Greater Goode by Amy Schor Ferris; Houghton Mifflin Company: Boston, 2002; $15 Author Amy Schor Ferris’s latest story, A Greater Goode, is a touching novel about Addie Goode, a twelve-year-old, and her experience of friendships and the role that those friendships play in her growing up. The story is written from Addie’s point of view, and she tells about her own experiences, throwing in her own thoughts as she goes along. It is well written with good plots throughout the story and, indeed, is a page-turner. As soon as I opened the book to the prologue and read the first sentence, I was a captive of the book, entrapped in its pages with my eyes glued to the words. I remember it was a Monday, when I started the book. It was in Dr. McDonald’s office. That day I was going to have maxillofacial surgery and I was reading The Vile Village by Lemony Snicket. I was at an awfully boring part, so I got A Greater Goode out of my bag and started reading. When the assistant called my name, I got up with the book in my face, and when we were in the operating room, she said, “Let me take your book, I don’t think you’ll be having time to read.” I screamed, “No no no no no no no no no no!!!!!!!!” At home Mom said, “Dinner’s ready.” I was so involved in the book that I barely even heard her so I didn’t say anything. “Dinner’s ready!” I ignored her. “Let’s eat. Dinner’s ready!!!!” “Just a minute . . .” I muttered without looking up. It was like that for a while until Mom threatened to take the book away and I finally agreed to eat. At night I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep without finding out how the book ended, so I read and read until I closed the book and was satisfied. Just like Addie, I have had one of those weekends where everything is happening in “one full swoop,” as her housekeeper Jessie would say. Whether it’s that you have a piano concert, your best friend is moving away, a major history report is due, and you need to get a new bathing suit, or something that’s a lot more complicated like, in Addie’s case, I’ve always had a good friend to help me get through it all. But I have never really had a best friend for long because a lot of my friends tend to move away. At the moment, I’m the type of kid where I’m friends with everyone, not real good friends, just friends, and a lot of people think that’s great, but I wish that I had a best friend that I could tell everything to like Addie and her best friend Luke. When Addie and Luke saw the creepy guy being hateful toward Rachel and then slapping her in the old abandoned church, Addie and Luke ran away. But when Addie asked Jessie what she would do if she saw something bad happening, she replied, “If I saw something bad happening, I’m not the type to turn my back. If I saw someone being hateful, I’d put my two cents in. I think sometimes walking away from evil is just as evil.” Walking away from evil is just as evil. This is the one phrase in the entire book that inspired me most. Unlike Addie, I’m not the type that can stand up to people that easily and I am the type to just walk away from things. After hearing what Jessie said, I was glad that Addie decided to do something about what she saw. Judging by other experiences that she lived through, I can tell that Addie is a very kind and courageous person who can easily stand up for herself and others. At the same time that I was glad, I was also jealous of her and the ability she had to speak her mind. I would like for Addie to be my friend and have her teach me how to overcome my fears and be like her. I recommend this engaging novel for anyone who has been through tough times and knows that life brings lots of hard and complicated situations. If you’re looking for a good book on friendship, this is the book for you. A Greater Goode is a story that touches the heart, reminding us all that life is not perfect, and, nevertheless, friends will always be there for you when you need them. Martina McLarty, 12El Cerrito, California
A Sour Note
PART ONE: A SOUR NOTE The air was hot and still, like a warm fuzzy blanket that dulled the senses, making everyone pleasantly sleepy. Even bees veered off their straight course and hummed in lazy loops. The air was thick with pollen; but that was not why Sandy sniffled. She ran up her apartment steps by twos up to the fourth floor. She slammed against her door, sobbing, and grabbed her key out of her black backpack. She fumbled in the lock, her eyes blurry. Sandy burst into her house, throwing her backpack onto the ground. Tears coursed down her cheeks in an ever-steady torrent of water. Running into her room, she created eddies of swirling dust. She was sobbing, trying to catch her breath through her clogged nose. Coughing and hacking, Sandy hurled herself upon the bed. “Why?! Why?! Why?!” With each “why” the sadness crescendoed to anger. Turning over onto her back, she winced as the ponytail holder dug into her head. Yelling her fury, she ripped the holder out of her short red hair and fell back again on her green comforter. Her breathing slowed. She sniffed, but was calmer now. In a small voice she again asked herself, “Why?” Her orange tabby, Fireball, uncurled, stretched, and showed his teeth in a large yawn. He walked onto Sandy, purring sentiments. “I didn’t do it, Fireball. Why would he say that I did it?” “Oof,” Sandy grunted weakly. She raised up a hand and started stroking the furry friend. Purring contentedly, he padded in a few circles and settled down on her stomach. He always knows when I need comfort the most, Sandy thought fuzzily. Maybe it’s instinct. Talking to her cat, Sandy sighed, “I didn’t do it, Fireball. Why would he say that I did it? I barely even know Colin. I would have never done that to anything, much less the band instruments. Mr. Foley knows how much I love the band. Doesn’t he?” Her eyes moistened slightly. Memories of what she had seen flipped through her head like a slide show. A broken window, the glass shards askew. Trombones bent in half with their bells crumpled. Cases everywhere, open with instruments spilling out like so many marbles. Tubas with dents the size of saucers in their delicate brass: ruined, out of commission. Mr. Foley’s face as he looked at the accused. In that look Sandy remembered sadness and anger, but most of all, disappointment. Sandy’s pale face sported freckles and scared green eyes that glistened with tears. Those eyes widened in a sudden realization. “And they’re going to make Mom pay! She can’t afford it! She can’t even afford a car much less so many instruments!” Her eyes looked downward. Almost instinctively, she petted Fireball with ferocity. “We can’t afford it.” Sandy jumped up with resolution in her eyes, shoving the cat off. “And gosh darn it! We’re not going to have to try and afford it! I’m going to prove my innocence! I have three days to prove my innocence and by all that’s good and holy I’ll do it if it’s the last thing I do!” Sandy strode over to her computer. Fireball crossly flicked an ear at Sandy, then loped over to a window seat. He jumped up and settled in the cushions. Unnoticing, Sandy flumped down in her computer chair and pressed a button. The screen began to glow, beep, click and whir. Sandy glared at the computer impatiently; if it made any more noises it would moo. She swirled around in her chair so she faced her cat, who washed himself contentedly. Sandy started explaining her ideas and thoughts to her cat. The words came out, bubbling over like an eager spring. “Mom will be back in five days, and it’ll take, hmm, about three days for the suspension papers to process through. So I have only three days to prove my innocence. Less, actually. About two days. I have to prove my innocence! It’s my only hope! I need a list of suspects: people in the band who don’t play tuba, baritone sax, French horn, trombones, or tenor sax, considering those were the instruments that were destroyed.” Her brows knit furiously. “What happened that night? Lessee. PTA meeting at the MPR. Nope, too early. When Mr. Foley announced the incident he said it would have been between ten PM and five AM, when the janitors weren’t there.” She gnawed her lip. Then her eyes widened. “The football game at the high school! Duh! She slapped her forehead. Hearing the first couple of notes of the Jaws theme song, she spun her chair around. Grabbing the mouse, she guided her shark cursor over the Jaws desktop to the Word icon. She double-clicked with familiar ease. The computer chugged and clicked as it opened the word-processing program. (She knew almost everyone in the band. That gave her the knowledge needed to make a decent suspect list.) Being a percussionist also gave her a pretty good view of the classroom and anyone who was yelled or glared at, since she was in the back. Sandy started typing the names of the band members who had older brothers or sisters in the high school. As a second thought Sandy typed the names of those people’s friends who may have gone with them. By the time the document was ready to be printed she had about twenty kids’ names typed in front of her eyes. Clicking the print button, Sandy noticed the time: 9:45—time to get ready for bed. * * * PART TWO: TUNING THE NOTE It was yet another beautiful summer day as Sandy trudged up her apartment steps. She flipped open her mailbox and took out the letter inside. Junk. She sighed and let one shoulder of her backpack slide off. With a little twist, Sandy swung the backpack to her front and opened the smaller pocket. She wiggled her hand in it, feeling for her key. Triumphantly, she
