March/April 2011

Wind Before

Now she sat helpless, her days of freedom just a memory “Just take it easy, Jenna. We don’t want you to fall.” Jenna gritted her teeth and took a step. She gripped the walker in front of her so hard her knuckles were white. The pain she expected didn’t occur, and she looked up with a smile. “Mom, do you think I…” Her leg collapsed underneath her and she thudded to the ground with a cry of agony. Tears were wrenched from her eyes against her will, but it wasn’t the pain. She was used to pain. Pain was her constant companion. It had been with her ever since she had fallen off the stone wall by the creek while chasing her cousin and shattered her leg. The surgery to implant the stabilizing rods had gone wrong, and Jenna was left with a useless leg. No, she was crying because of the hopelessness of it all. Every day she tried to exercise, to strengthen her leg, but she still couldn’t take a single step. Her mother was at her side, but she wasn’t aware of it. At that moment, her world consisted of the walker on its side with its wheels still spinning, her throbbing leg, and the tears that streamed down her face and soaked her shirt. *          *          * Jenna had PE first period, but it wasn’t physical. Usually, PE was just sitting in her wheelchair reading or doing homework. Today she watched the other kids. They lined up at the edge of the jumbo track, the mile-long course they ran each day. Mr. Heket blew his whistle, and they were off. Alexa was far ahead, her long legs pumping gracefully. But then, reflected Jenna, she always was. It hadn’t always been that way. Jenna could still remember the days when another slim girl had been out in front, by far the fastest, the strongest. I ran like the wind, thought Jenna bitterly. I was the wind before. Then a twinge in her leg reminded her that things were different now. Now she sat helpless, her days of freedom just a memory. The doctors pretended she could make a miraculous recovery, but Jenna could see the truth behind their fake smiles: you will never heal. You will be crippled for life. Alexa was nearly finished with the run, and Jenna listened intently for her time. “Well done, Alexa. 5:33.” Jenna sat upright in shock. The record she had set before her fall still stood, but not for long now. It had been 5:32. Alexa smiled breathlessly. Now along came Daniel, always second. Jenna tuned out again. Soon, the slower runners were arriving. As fashionable Sasha finished, she ignored Mr. Heket and continued chatting with her friends. “Hey, you know? I hate running. Sometimes I wish I had, like, a broken leg or something.” Jenna spun the wheels of her wheelchair, intensely angry all of a sudden. Skillfully maneuvering over to the group of kids, she planted herself firmly in their way. Sasha looked at her, surprised. “Excuse me,” she said in an overly enunciated tone, as if Jenna was stupid as well as wheelchair-confined. Jenna remained still. “Believe me, Sasha. You don’t want a broken leg.” Sasha shot a glance at Jenna’s leg. “Oh, yeah. Oops.” She shoved past Jenna, who made no move to stop her. Jenna felt tears stinging in her eyes, remembering days past. Sasha had been her friend, before the accident. Now Sasha found her own friends, and Jenna was alone. Wind before, thought Jenna, watching Sasha’s retreating back. I was wind before. *          *          * “Guess what, Jenna?” gushed her mother as Jenna was lifted into her car. Her face was glowing. “Doctor Johnson says there’s some different technology he can try, and he thinks it can help you!” Yeah, right, thought Jenna. Like anything can help me now. “It’ll mean more surgery. Do you think you can handle that?” Jenna wasn’t sure. She had been suspicious of surgery since hers had gone wrong. Her uneasiness came from the voice in her subconscious that asked, “What if it happens again? What if you’re paralyzed, or even killed?” “I don’t know… What’s the different technology?” “Well, they tried inserting rods before, but Dr. Johnson says they could try metal plates. He also said they might have to re-break the bone… Do you want to do this?” Do I? Jenna asked herself. If there’s even a small chance I can run again? “I… Can I think about it?” “Of course.” Jenna retreated into the recesses of her mind for contemplation. The surgery could fix her, she knew that. But, persisted that tiny little voice, what if… “No!” Jenna declared, defiantly. “But, Jenna…” Her mother’s voice was sad. “I… No, I didn’t mean it that way, Mom. I meant, like, no to not doing it. I mean, yes. I’ll do it.” Jenna was babbling. She was determined not to live in fear and let that voice win. Her fears and doubts intensified, but she mentally shoved them away. I could be wind again, Jenna reminded herself. *          *          * It was deathly cold in the waiting room. Jenna was only half-awake. Why did I have to get up at three in the morning? she thought. She vaguely glanced around the room, taking in the cold plastic chairs and the walls that were so white it hurt to look at them. A side door opened and a nurse stepped out. “Jenna Rakashashov?” Jenna became slightly more awake as adrenaline coursed through her. She slid her wheelchair into the next room, where a nurse helped her onto the gurney. Lying back, she gazed up at the white ceiling tiles that looked like they were made of cardboard. The gurney began to move slowly, and Jenna could feel her leg throb with the same rhythm as the clicking wheels. Ha, she said silently to the voice of doubt inside of her. I win. I’ll be fixed. Then she

Horses

George, with his silver-gray fur cantering across bright green grass whinnying softly his white mane blown out by the wind the sun a horizon of bright colors behind him Reaching out to pet the soft brown and white dotted face of Polka Peering out from behind the stall ready to ride *          *          * All my life I’ve been watching those jumpers in that field wishing it was me. Finally I was ready. The swishing of Violet’s tail and the clop of her canter encouraged me onward. Leaning forward I felt my heart soar into the bright blue sky as Violet leapt into the air almost as if she were flying. Then dropping gently to the ground and coming slowly to a stop. I had done it. I had jumped. Sophia Lipkin, 9Brooklyn, New York

Lilly of the South

It’s just, my family has been moving all over for as long as I can remember CHAPTER ONE: THE SOUTH POLE The plane seemed to be going ridiculously slow. I had a seat by the window and was looking out at the South Pole, also my new home. Both of my parents were considered brilliant scientists. I didn’t disagree. We were moving to the bottom of the world so they could study the earth’s changing climates. At fourteen, I shouldn’t complain, and believe me, I really tried not to. It’s just, my family has been moving all over for as long as I can remember. Before the South Pole, we lived in Australia. (They were studying heat and sun rays.) I loved Australia. What I would miss the most would be my friends Ophelia Jones and Percy Smith. They were both only children like me. Ophelia’s mom is a nurse, and her dad was a pilot, but he got kicked out for something, but Ophelia never told me what. Percy’s mom died when he was just a few hours old. His dad is really cool though. He’s a math whiz and a great photographer. I would miss them, a lot. The plane stuttered to a stop, made a strange blasting noise, but didn’t shatter into a million pieces like I had expected. The flight attendant ushered us out to the walkway and we entered the small (very small) airport. We looked around for a person holding a sign that read “Anderson.” My mom spotted it first. We approached the young woman holding the sign. She had on a black coat that went to her knees. Her blond hair was pulled back in a braid. And her face and eyes were kind and gentle. “Are you the Andersons?” she asked. “Yes,” my dad answered. “I’m Patrick; this is my wife, Karen, and my daughter, Lilly.” The woman smiled and said, “A pleasure to meet you. My name is Jasmine Lewis, my son Jeremy is around here somewhere.” My parents shook hands with her, and she led us to the door. A boy around my age with perfect brown hair and ocean-blue eyes caught up with us. “Mr. and Mrs. Anderson, this is my son, Jeremy,” Jasmine said. “Nice to meet you.” He shook hands with my parents and then with me. “Let me carry that for you.” He took my suitcase, and we walked through the ice and snow to find Mrs. Lewis’s snowmobiles. Once we found them, she threw Jeremy a pair of keys. Mrs. Lewis’s mobile had three seats, but Jeremy’s had only two seats. “Lilly, you can ride with Jeremy,” my mom instructed. Jeremy handed me a helmet, he put the keys in the ignition, and we took off through the snow. Mrs. Lewis was a few feet behind us with my mom nervously clutching her waist. I wasn’t scared, I was actually having fun. “You all right back there?” Jeremy called back to me. “Yeah, I’m fine,” I called back over the roaring of the snowmobiles. “We’re about to turn, hold on to me.” I didn’t hesitate to cling to his back as we turned a sharp corner, nearly missing a general store. “Show off!” Mrs. Lewis called to Jeremy. He laughed, and I did too. We soon came to a charming little cottage and parked the snowmobiles. “This one’s yours, ours is that one.” Jeremy pointed to a smaller cottage a little ways behind ours. We got off the bikes, and Jeremy grabbed my suitcase for me. Both of our jean legs were soaked, and I was freezing. “You OK?” Jeremy asked. “J-just c-cold,” I muttered. Jeremy left and returned with a green wool blanket, and he put it around my shoulders. “Thanks.” “No problem, my sister made it for a welcoming present for you.” “Lilly.” My mom appeared. “We’re going to go tour around town; do you and Jeremy want to stay here?” “Sure.” Jeremy read my mind. “OK, see you later then.” She left. “Would you like a tour?” Jeremy asked. “Sure.” And he showed me around. There were three bedrooms, one bathroom, a small kitchen, and a living room. In the kitchen were four chairs that surrounded a small table. There was a woodstove, an icebox, a counter, and four cupboards. He pulled out a small pan and set it on the stove. He took milk, cocoa powder, and powdered sugar. I sat down at the table and watched him make hot chocolate. “How long have you lived here?” I asked as he poured the milk in over the cocoa. “I think since I was three. We lived in Russia before here.” “Why did you live in Russia?” “I’m not really sure.” He raised an eyebrow. He took a ladle out of a drawer and poured the cocoa in mugs. I wrapped the blanket more tightly around me. He set a mug in front of me. I took a drink, and I could feel my legs warming up. It was delicious. “Where did you learn to cook?” I asked. He looked down at the floor. “My sister taught me.” “Was it the same sister who made this blanket?” “Yes.” “I would like to meet her.” He slammed his cup on the table, stood up, and walked toward the door. His action made me jump. “Where are you going?” I followed him. “I’ve got to go home,” he muttered as he pulled his coat on. “Why?” I asked. He walked over to me. “I just really think I should go.” His teeth were gritted together. I looked into his angry eyes. “OK, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He stormed out of the house, slamming the door behind him. I walked back to the kitchen, put a lid on the leftover hot chocolate, and dumped Jeremy’s in the sink. My parents came home later that night. My mom was carrying grocery bags and my dad was carrying a library bag full of