Subscribe Donate

100% written and illustrated by kids ages 6-13

March/April 2007


By

Flying

STARTING LINE I roll my head from side to side in an attempt to be nonchalant. My teammates look at me questioningly, and then ask, “Can we go now?” impatiently. I nod vaguely, lead them in a jog for about thirty meters, then turn around and run briskly back to the starting line. Once there I straighten my tie-dyed knee socks and perform an exaggerated walk in place. I glance at my teammates, making sure only five of our runners are in the front row and checking to see that everyone’s shoelaces are tied. I focus my gaze ahead as a man walks out before the competitors and gives a brief introduction, giving the usual instructions of there being two commands, one which is vocal, and then the sound of the gun. The man disappears in the herd of runners, and another walks out. He utters the familiar phrase, “Runners set.” There is a brief pause, and then the resounding sound of a pistol pierces the air. I am off. *          *          * RUNNING The sight of the other runners disappears in a flash, and the grass is rolling under my feet. My sneakers are white trimmed with red, accenting my maroon socks and uniform flawlessly. I glance back quickly as I round the bend; I am already breaking away, but not quite as rapidly as I would like. I pick up my pace, knowing that once I reach the woods I may slow down to my 3K pace and compensate for my overly swift start. I am already breaking away, but not quite as rapidly as I would like I leap over the railroad tracks and head toward the pond, only slightly aware of the crowd standing on either side of me, applauding politely Leaping over an obstacle reminds me of a book written by one of my favorite authors, and I run through the plot briefly in my head; anything to keep my mind off the rhythm of my breathing or the length of my strides, so that I may just enjoy the run and feel the wind rushing against my face. It’s a chilly day, and it will be even colder in the woods, so I pump my arms vigorously to keep the warmth flooding through my body. The pond is calm today, the water a calico sheet of tranquility. My breathing is shallow, so I concentrate on the tune of a beloved song and transform my jagged inhalation into a placid rhythm. I swivel my head, hopefully for the last time during this run, and am relieved to note that the other competitors are hardly in sight now. I relax my muscles and move briskly toward the edge of the forest. As I enter the kingdom of greenery and timber a slight breeze rustles ever so slightly through the trees. My energy is repeatedly replenished by this mellow gust of wind, and I continue on down the woodland path before me. There are no other sounds save the languid tones of my sneakers slapping the ground with ease, and I seem to not even be aware when the terrain ascends and I begin to run on an uphill slope. In time I see a clearing up ahead, and feel a twinge of regret that I am leaving the peaceful solitude of the forest’s haven, but it is only slight for I know that the finish line is near. As I approach the source of the sunlight and the crowd standing in the midst of it I alter my running style. I allow my breathing to become slightly more labored, and increase the length of my strides, no longer placing them in front of me in a carefree and thoughtful fashion, but in a deliberate and competitive manner, trying to look as though all I have been thinking about the entire race is a blue ribbon. For I am now exiting the woodland sanctuary in which I may camouflage with my surroundings and enjoy the scenery. Now I am a runner, and am human once more. I feel pain in my legs, and a familiar sensation of exhaustion as I round the bend, and see clearly ahead of me the true definition of a cross-country course, linear and concise in its layout. *          *          * FLYING I hear a roar of applause as I enter the clearing, and dimly note the crowd of spectators on either side of me, some of them wearing uniforms like myself, whereas others are garbed in merely everyday apparel. There is the part of me that notices them, that is for certain. But there is another portion of my being that is oblivious to my surroundings completely Suddenly the coldness of the day is nothing, and I no longer have to squint to shield the sun from penetrating my lashes. I no longer feel the fatigue in my legs, and exhaustion is no longer a factor. My awareness of leaping over the railroad tracks on the way back is minor, and the sight of the finish line inconsequential. I am flying, but without the need of wings. Spreading a vast drapery of brightly colored plumage is utterly unnecessary; for I am already soaring through the air effortlessly, unconscious of my environment, hardly feeling my feet hit the soil repetitively. I am impregnable. And then the sensation is gone, and I see the finish chute thirty yards ahead. *          *          * FINISH LINE I cross the powdery white strip on the grass at a clocking of nine minutes and eighteen seconds. I sway to the side slightly and then regain my balance, breathing deeply as I stroll down the walkway, my hand skimming the rope fencing on either side of me for a sense of support. My mother approaches on the other side of the finish chute and I greet her, bringing a hand over my brow dramatically to give her an understanding of my fatigue. A race official hands me a


By

Zachary

As Mel picked up the phone, my freshly bitten fingernails dug into the wooden carvings that decorated our antique chaise lounge. But the look he gave me after a few seconds made my heart sink for the gazillionth time that evening. Why weren’t they calling? As he hung up the phone, Mel let out a long, long sigh. “It was Ms. Connelly, she wants to know if we have her ladder still, go and check won’t you?” Mel’s voice sounded bored. I was about to leave our living room when the phone rang once more. This time, there was no disappointment on Mel’s face. “Dad!” cried Mel. “What’s going on, is Mom OK?” Before my father could answer, I was on the kitchen phone shooting out questions a mile a minute. My father’s hearty laughter boomed from the phone, “Your mother is fine, children, and so is your new brother, Zachary.” I swear that when I heard those words, the sky lit up. My new brother! A long eight months ago, our parents had told us that we should expect a new addition to the family. Since then life seemed to drag, waiting for my new sibling. And now, now he was alive, a new child in the world. My brother. Tears of joy streamed down my cheeks as my father offered him to me Mel revved up his red Honda and we were on our way to the hospital. I sat in the front seat, looking out of the window and imagining my new brother. Zachary would have lovely, chocolaty- brown skin, with jet-black curls sprouting up all over his head. He would have sparkling brown eyes, and rosy cheeks. He would be a gorgeous baby He was mine. “Mom!” I ran into the hospital room excitedly. “Sam! Sweetie, come look at our Zachary!” I turned around and there, in my father’s arms, was the most adorable baby I had ever seen. He was just what I imagined and more. His long, black eyelashes quivered as he blinked and began to stare at me. Tears of joy streamed down my cheeks as my father offered him to me. I agreed, and held out my arms. His soft body was now cradled in my arms and he looked up at me and chuckled with his small little mouth. Too scared of dropping him, I handed him back to my mother who smiled at me warmly. “Don’t worry, you have to get used to holding a newborn.” I played with Zachary for a bit and then the nurse said my mother had to do some tests, so did the baby. We were about to leave when I felt something tugging on my finger. It was Zachary’s little fist. I turned to him with tears in my eyes and whispered, “Don’t worry, I’ll always be there for you.” Adanma Raymond, 12Cascade, Trinidad and Tobago,West Indies Jena Ritchey, 13Albuquerque, New Mexico


By

The Strawberry Olympics

  Looking back at this I realize how important Chad was and still is to me. I realized that he was no longer Chase’s little brother, and was now my cousin that I loved, no, my brother that I loved. I always loved going to Atlanta to visit my family. Well, mostly the Sittens. Let me rephrase that, I always couldn’t wait to see Chase. The Sittens are my mom’s identical twin’s family I loved hanging out with Chase, the oldest son. I saw him as an older brother more than anything. My second mom, Aunt Kathy, suggested that we go strawberry picking at the largest strawberry farm in Atlanta. “It’s the biggest one in Georgia,” Chase stated. “Yay!” Chad shouts in joy and remembrance of his previous times there. “Sure I’ll go,” I said. That’s when my mom starts giving out orders. “OK, you get the sunscreen, you get the baskets.” “Mom, they give you baskets there.” “Oh, OK, never mind,” she said, sounding disappointed that she was incorrect, like a child on Christmas without gifts. Then she forgot that disappointment and we were all happy to go. I jumped in the back of the van right next to Chad. All he could talk about was how much fun we were going to have. “We’re gonna eat as many as we can. We’re gonna see who can get the most in a minute, who can eat their whole basket the fastest. We’ll call it, the Strawberry Olympics,” Chad said so proudly to think of the name. They were strawberries, decadent and juicy. At that moment I knew I was ready to compete “Wow, that sounds so boring. Why would somebody think of something that boring?” Chase mentioned like he knew everything. He didn’t. Once we arrived there and decided what game was first, we got our buckets and began picking. I decided that I was going to ignore Chase and finally side with Chad. Chad and I were going to coalesce for the first time. I was new to siding with Chad, but what Chad said in the car sounded like there was nothing more fun in the world. “Dude, I’m leaving you kiddies. I’m not gonna play your stupid games. See ya,” he yelled across the farm. Chase went to go on and do his own thing. At first I leisurely picked strawberries. It was a warm-up for the games. I went to put the first strawberry in my mouth and I had this mouth-watering sensation. It was like all the colors of the world were blurry and all I could see was a strawberry and picture how good that tasted. They were strawberries, decadent and juicy At that moment I knew I was ready to compete. “OK. Let’s see who can fill up their basket first?” “Fine with me. I just don’t want you to cry when you lose,” I exclaimed, assured of my victory. I ran down the rows of strawberries picking as many as I could. I looked over just to see Chad doing the same three rows down. My confidence grew smaller every time I looked over, but I knew I could come through. Just at that moment I heard… “Done!” Chad had beaten me. I was upset for the loss but I kept my head up high for the next event. “Now it’s my turn to pick the event,” I said, knowing that I had to pick an event that I knew I could win, otherwise I would be down two to zero. That was a margin I couldn’t overcome. “Let’s see… How about whoever can eat the most strawberries in one minute. You up for the challenge?” “Let’s see who’s crying after this one.” “Ready… Set… Go!” The minute had started and I was eating away I watched the clock carefully to make sure I was going to pace myself to not get too full and not be able to keep going. Then I glanced over at Chad. I saw he dropped one on his shirt and the juice from the bottom of the bucket was leaking all over his pants. I burst into laughter. “Ha ha, Chad!!!!” I couldn’t help but laugh at him not noticing that he looked like a giant, red, strawberry himself. Once he realized how much I was laughing he couldn’t help but laugh. By this time the look on my face just made laughter and joy explode into Chad. I think he blew a bubble with his nose. He just couldn’t control himself. (At that age everything was funny.) We both simply lay there with not a care in the world about who won. Now it was simply about having a great time. We decided that the games were no longer needed to have fun. Even though Chase said that the games were dumb and we actually only finished one event he still wasn’t right. So then we just sat there and enjoyed each other’s company. “I’m so glad you could come down.” “I know, usually we can only come during the holidays but I’m glad I got to come in the summer,” I said, just happy to be near my family. “C’mon guys,” Aunt Kathy shouted as a signal to get us all in the car. “Oh man!” we all yelled back. We then all followed her to the car and thanked the owner of the farm as we left. “I got the back seat,” I yelled, hoping the louder I yelled the better chance I have of getting it. “Fine, I got shotgun,” Chase stated in protest. As Chad and I settled in the back of the car I knew Chase was going to send a wisecrack my way And he did. “So how was the Strawberry Olympics?” he says in a baby voice. “It was so much fun.” “Yeah, we had a great time. Sorry you couldn’t join us… not,” Chad throws an insult at his older brother. Chase sits, disgusted that