I found a high branch to sit on, near the canopy CHAPTER ONE I start to shiver and my feathers begin to puff instinctively. It’s getting colder, and I can tell through the slats in my crate that it must be night. The humming of the truck mingles with the soft song of disheartened birds. Occasionally, I join in. The events of the day flash through my mind. There was only a light misting today, unlike the heavy rainfall we usually get in the rainforest. The sky seemed bluer than usual, the wind more refreshing, the sun brighter. Everything smelled fresher, looked greener, sounded happier. In the morning, I rolled around in a giant wet leaf to bathe. I found a high branch to sit on, near the canopy. The vast expanse of sky above me made me feel like soaring. So I did. Above the rainforest, troubles, and worries. The afternoon was spent preening and drying my plumage in the sun. I managed to find a large clump of berries today. The forest floor was a treasure trove of ripe goodies. I even found a whole peach. It’s a good thing too because I haven’t had any food since a small nut was tossed in this box. Thinking of home makes me nostalgic. I try to shift my wings, but they are covered with cardboard pieces, which are attached to me with a rubber band that wraps around my body. I close my eyes. No use leaving them open in this darkness. Today I was captured. Thought it could never happen to me. I was wrong. I’ve heard stories, of course. I was always careful. Scanning the rainforest. Alert. Listening. So careful. Today, my guard slipped. It was over quickly. The humans are experienced at this. All at once there was a net, over my head. It was mostly a blur. The one thing I remember clearly was the toothy smile the man gave me. I gave a struggle, tried to chew through, but no use. I looked forlornly at what I was leaving behind as we got farther and farther away. They put cardboard over my wings. Put me in a box. My feathers. I’ve always been proud of them, every color of the rainbow. My wings—green. My body feathers start amber and blend into crimson. My beak is ebony. My tail is royal purple, and deep blue. Now they are ruffled. Out of place. Ruined. I don’t know where they’re taking me. I just know I’m never going home again. * * * CHAPTER TWO Anne pulled her bright yellow scarf tighter around her neck. Even though she was wearing the detective coat, as her dad called it, the cold was still seeping into her skin. Even the cobblestone streets lost their charm in this chill. She tried to pedal faster, avoiding puddles. Her warm breath made tiny white puffs in the air. It was cloudy out, and bitterly cold, but soon she would arrive at the townhouse and the warmth would melt her frozen bones. She rode her bike over a stone bridge, looking at her reflection in the swift, gray water that ran underneath. She let go of the handlebars and sailed along, arms out for balance. It was a skill she had learned from her mother. Yet another dreary day, thought Anne, and not just the weather. Anne allowed herself to think about the day. Emily and her flock of giggling friends had been even more spiteful than usual, as if the awful weather made them meaner. They had destroyed one of her notebooks by spilling apple cider all over it, sent her books sprawling in the hallway, and her oatmeal cookies were nowhere to be found when lunch came around. The talking behind her back she could endure. But now all this? Anne always sat alone at lunch, just reading and thinking. But the cookies were the sparkle, the gleam of happiness she looked forward to every day. She had nothing to hold on to, no friends. What more could they possibly take away from her? Too much thinking. Again she was about to cry. She refused to let herself because then they would win. Her home was in sight now. The old townhouse was tired and dilapidated with moldy brownstone bricks and climbing ivy latching onto the walls. Even so, it had grandeur about it. It stood with pride. Anne hopped off her bike and walked down the stone path to the front door. She put the bike against the house and tried to look happy for her dad before she walked inside. * * * CHAPTER THREE It’s been three days. The pale yellow sunlight coming through the slats in the crate tells me it must be morning. Something is happening outside the box. Commotion. Human voices arguing. I wonder what’s going on. I can’t understand the rusty language they speak. They talk with quick, sudden words and a growling in the throat. It reminds me of the sound of the panther. She let go of the handlebars and sailed along, arms out for balance Suddenly, I’m moving, but it’s not the vehicle. I’m being picked up. Transported to where? Another vehicle? It turns out I’m right. After a long wait, I hear an engine start. We drive for a long time. The other birds that were captured are still here. We each sing our own unique song. All birds are born with one. I sing mine until I get tired. I also chatter with the others. Mostly, I can’t understand. It is night when we arrive. A human has taken me out of the crate. The woman is wearing a white coat and she has nice brown hair. Deep brown, I notice, like tree bark. She’s starting to free me from my rubber band. I survey the surroundings. I’m inside a room with shiny white tiles and fluorescent lights. There are no windows, just a countertop. I
March/April 2011
Roller Skating
The wheels Crunch over the pea gravel As sweat Crowds my tomato-red face. My legs are constantly moving Pumping with pure Adrenaline. A puddle Crammed with mud Stretches over the cement sidewalk. Consumed with laughter And joy I am too delirious To see the hazard. My body Is shot into the air And my arms Flail Like a baby pigeon Flying for the first time. My legs are Spattered With grime. My aerial adventure Concludes With a tragic Crash. Water Spurts out From under my Bruised body. Drops pitter-patter as they Connect with land. I sit there Soaked Absorbed with how I look What pity watchers must feel. But I am chortling Elated Even if briefly And even if disastrously ended. I had Done it. I had roller skated. Nicky Cannon, 12Dallas, Texas
Home Is Where You’re Happy
Nothing mattered. Leah was leaving It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. Leah shook her head in disbelief, not accepting that she could be moving away from her beloved home in Chardon, Ohio. Sure, she’d known the possibility had been there, but she didn’t believe something this awful could happen to her. The news had been broken in such a gruff and unfeeling manner. Didn’t her parents care? Didn’t they understand how hard this was? Nobody moved in the middle of November. She felt like she had been punched in the gut, and her heart rose in her throat. But tears didn’t fall. Not yet. It turned out the dental clinic her father had worked at for so many years was being shut down, but he had found work at a clinic in New Jersey. New Jersey. That felt like it was an entire continent away. Leah’s parents told her they had found a new family to live in the house Leah had grown up in. They had made an unsuccessful attempt to console her by telling her how wonderful the new house was. They said meaningless things like, “Oh, you’ll have such a great time” and “You’ll make plenty of friends. Don’t you worry.” They had done this all behind Leah’s back. She felt betrayed. In a month, Leah would be in New Jersey. Leah stood, still shaking her head. “No,” she said. “No.” With that, she ran out of the living room and out the back door. The old screen door banged shut behind her. The crisp, late autumn air rushed to greet her. Leah pulled her sweatshirt tighter, trying to keep in as much warmth as possible. She jammed her bony fingers into her pockets. The leaf-covered ground crunched as Leah trudged across the yard. She expected her parents to come after her, to apologize. Maybe they would tell her they had been joking after all. Leah kept walking, the woods behind her yard greeting her with sympathetic words. She often spent time in the woods when she needed solace. The whoosh of wind through branches of the old oak trees and the chirp of a lone bird washed over he in a soothing manner. Leah continued to walk through the woods, dodging between trees stripped of their leaves. After a few minutes of walking, Leah came to an abrupt halt. She was where she wanted to be. She was in a small clearing where she sometimes came to think and escape her problems, at least for the time being. This was where she was happy. Leah sat on an old log, taking in her familiar surroundings. Tree branches extended upward, forming a protective canopy, which nearly blocked out the sun entirely. Only a small sliver of sunlight made it through to illuminate a small patch of grass in front of her. The crisp fall wind whipped Leah’s dirty-blond hair mercilessly against her face. Her warm blue eyes stung from the biting wind. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. Leah was leaving. * * * ONE MONTH LATER The school bus was noisier than the packed stadium at a Cleveland Indians game. Kids hurled balled-up paper at each other and blasted loud music from their cell phones. They shouted out windows and tossed litter into the street. Leah glanced around nervously, afraid that one of these kids would pull her hair or hit her with any of a number of projectiles. The bus driver seemed unaffected by all of this chaos, which impressed Leah immensely. The bus finally pulled up to the curb next to the school. The brakes squealed as the driver slammed down on them. The doors were thrown open, and the kids practically ran each other over to be the first off the bus. Welcome to New Jersey. Leah didn’t know where to go or who to talk to. She didn’t know any of her teachers, and she had no friends. She rubbed her gloved hands together to keep herself warm. She wished she could finish seventh grade in Chardon, where she had friends. She especially missed the woods. Leah’s new home was in a large housing development with hardly any trees. Everything was different in New Jersey. “Hey, move it!” A boy shook Leah from her thoughts as he rudely shoved her aside. She had been blocking the sidewalk, which was lightly dusted with snow. Leah wandered toward a set of doors with a huge crowd of rowdy students around them. She joined the crowd, hoping she would be permitted to enter the warm building soon. The rest of the day passed in a blur of loud, jarring sounds and unfamiliar faces. Leah got lost more than once, and she sat alone at lunch. The day had been a failure, except for science class. “Now, does anyone know why trees lose their leaves?” The class had been studying dendrology, the study of trees and woody plants. Mr. Wilson, the bespectacled teacher, had asked, “Now, does anyone know why trees lose their leaves?” The class shifted uncomfortably, no one daring to answer the question. Leah tentatively raised her hand. She felt the curious eyes of the class turn to her. She took a deep breath to steady herself. “Yes?” Mr. Wilson nodded toward Leah. “There are a number of reasons for trees to lose their leaves,” Leah explained, the words coming out in a huge rush. She knew that if she didn’t speak now, she would chicken out. “One of them is that trees can conserve moisture by losing their leaves. Trees can also save energy, which the tree needs to stay alive through the winter.” “Very good!” Mr. Wilson had looked impressed. “Are you interested in the outdoors, Leah?” “Yes,” Leah had said. I just wish there were woods here… Now, the day was over. Leah twisted the lock on her locker one way, then the other. The locker clicked open. Out tumbled a small slip of paper. In a rush, Leah pocketed
