My Cousin’s Keeper, by Simon French; Candlewick Press: Massachusetts, 2014; $16.99 Do you know what it feels like to be bullied? Have you ever felt left out? These are questions that My Cousin’s Keeper forces the reader to consider. They are questions I never thought a lot about until I read this book. No book can be good unless it has interesting and inspiring characters. There are three important characters in the book. I was drawn into the story by the way these characters relate to each other. Their relationships made the message of the book jump off the pages and drew me into their world. Bon is the main character. He is ten years old. Bon moves in with his cousin, Kieran, and his family and is insecure because his mother is not responsible enough to take care of him. When Bon arrives at his new school he is bullied because he is different. He has a long braid and wears old clothes, which the kids tease him about. Bon’s experiences made me think of my own, and about how children learn about kindness and empathy. We sometimes think that school is just a place where we go to learn how to read or do math. But it is more than that. School is also where kids learn how to form friendships and deal with problems. It is a difficult place for kids, and people who aren’t bullied or treated poorly sometimes forget this. This story will remind kids who have to struggle at school, or even those who have no problems, how important it is to be aware of your fellow students. Not everyone at school bullies Bon. He has one friend who defends him. Julia is my favorite character in the book. I admired her because of her sense of justice and her strength. When you first meet Julia you would think she would want to fit in and not stand up to the bullies because she has a troubled life at home. Her mother kidnapped her from her father and she lives on the run. She is unhappy but doesn’t take this out on others. I was pleased and inspired by the way she defends Bon and acts as a peacekeeper. Bon also uses his imagination to escape the troubles in his life. He imagines himself as a brave crusader who gets help from “Kieran the brave” and “Julia the fair.” His uses his imagination to write these stories and gets lost in another world. Words have the power to make Bon forget about his troubled life, and I have learned that words can give you a sense of power. This was another part of the book that I enjoyed. It reminded me how important books and words can be for those who feel alone and troubled. Finally, when I read the book I thought of something I read when I was much younger by Henry David Thoreau: “If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music he hears, however measured or far away.’’ These are words I have tried to live by. They have also inspired me to be different and not to follow others. So if you’ve never asked yourself what it feels like to be bullied, or if you’ve always wanted to be yourself but were afraid, I recommend this book and maybe it can give you the drumbeat to march to your own music. Raiyah Patel, 10Gatineau, Quebec, Canada
March/April 2016
The Girl Next Door
There are friends, and then there are arranged friends who you are friends with because of your parents, simple as that. The girl next door was next on my mom’s arranged friends list, and I wouldn’t have ever agreed to so-called hang out had I not needed a summer job and she needed a piano teacher. But, there was a minor detail that my mom had forgotten to mention. * * * “Oh! I didn’t mention it before, Hazel, but Via is blind. It might cause trouble with reading music, but I’m sure you can work around it,” Mom said, her fingers flying over her keyboard. The piano lesson was tomorrow morning and yet I hadn’t thought about it since the day Mom had finally convinced me to agree. I jerked up from the couch, tearing out my headphones. “What?” “Via, the girl next door, is blind. She’s been blind since birth, but her mother says she’s still a grade ahead in school.” Mom kept typing, her eyes scanning her computer. She paused and then kept typing, pursing her lips. “Mom!” I tossed my phone onto the couch and stood up, glaring at her. “Why don’t you ever tell me this stuff?” She kept typing. “Mom!” My voice got louder. With a resigned sigh, Mom looked up, raising an eyebrow. “I would have never agreed to this stupid job if you had told me that” “I know it might hinder your teaching a bit, but I assumed it wasn’t a big deal. Via is perfectly capable of learning the piano.” “I would have never agreed to this stupid job if you had told me that.” I folded my arms and scowled out the window, irritated words threatening to spill out. Outside, the blindingly bright sunshine blazed down on our front yard, the sky a dull gray despite the uncomfortable heat. I turned away from the window. “Why not?” Mom frowned. “She’s no different than any other kid.” It is different, I thought furiously. Completely. It will be awkward and weird and unnatural. On top of it being harder to teach, it will be impossible to talk about normal things. “Whatever,” I mumbled instead, dropping back onto the couch and glaring up at the ceiling. “It’s fine.” * * * The next morning I was awoken by a stream of light right on my face. Groaning, I shielded my eyes and sat up. The clock read half-past nine. In record time, I yanked on fresh clothes, raked a comb through my forever straight and boring dark hair, swished around a toothbrush, and headed upstairs. I sniffed the air, hoping for the scent of toast or pancakes, but it was odorless. The kitchen was deserted, a trail of crumbs and coffee stains the only hint of Mom and Dad passing through. Opening a box of cereal, I dumped it into a bowl of milk and started on the crispy flakes. “Hazel? You’re going over to Via’s at ten, right?” Dad poked his head in the kitchen, still in his pajamas and ratty slippers. “Oh, great. I mean, yes.” I forced a half-hearted smile. “At least you’re making good money.” He winked. “Don’t worry, it will be fun.” “If you say so,” I said dubiously, turning back to chasing cornflakes along the edge of the bowl. After another fifteen minutes of anxious stalling, I dumped the bowl in the sink and grabbed two books on basic piano skills before heading out the front door. Immediately, a wave of heat crashed over me, the muggy air clinging to my skin as I hurried over next door as fast as I could. Within a few moments, sweat beaded on my back and neck as I rang the doorbell. The door swung open, revealing a tall blond woman who smiled brightly. “Hazel? Nice to meet you! I’m Mazarine, Via’s mother.” Her rich voice had a slight accent I couldn’t place. Mazarine shook my hand and ushered me in. “Via is in the living room. She is eager to meet you.” We passed through a small entryway into the living room, which was a large room with bookshelves lining the wall. Light spilled in through large panes of windows, illuminating the piano in the corner. Perched on the bench was a girl. Via. Via was practically the opposite of her mother, small and slight with brown hair pulled back in a braid. She was wearing sunglasses. I self-consciously tried to smooth down my dark hair and offered an awkward smile. Via stood up, picking up a cane, and slowly walked over. She stopped before us. “So you’re Hazel?” I nodded, then stopped abruptly. “Yes. Nice to meet you.” We shook hands. “All right girls, go ahead and enjoy yourselves. I can bring in snacks if you want, later.” Mazarine patted Via’s shoulder, flashing me yet another smile. “It’s OK, Mom.” Via shrugged her off. “We’re fine. Thanks.” “OK, just checking.” Her mom exhaled. “Make yourself at home, Hazel.” “Thanks,” I murmured, staring down at my feet. Mazarine glanced at us and then walked out into the hallway. Silence descended upon the room. “OK, so I guess you’re supposed to teach me piano now?” Via headed over to the piano bench and sat down. She scooted over and I hesitantly sat down next to her, setting down the books on piano skills on the floor. “Yeah, I guess so. Do you know anything about piano or have you ever learned how to play a little bit before?” “No. Well, I know the piano keys are just repeating scales, sort of. I’ve always wanted to play Vivaldi, though.” “OK, cool. So let’s just start with recognizing the notes.” * * * Over a good part of the year, I went over to Via’s house every week to teach her piano. She was a good student; she practiced everything I told her to and improved quickly. Despite it all, we never became friends. Sure, Via was a student, an
Orange to Black
Come on Come on Come on I bolt to the window Quick as lightning, with a gasp, my mouth drops open the sun is swiftly sliding into the water, an orange marble sinking into the horizon infusing the river with orange dye I think where does it go? does it sink into the river with a swoosh and a swish? does it dissipate into good dreams for the night? I drift to my bed I realize I am a sun sinking into my bed but I feel nocturnal, my eyes are glued to the ceiling I stare and stare some more into the darkness that darkness that is feared and loved that darkness coating you in black that darkness like the bottom of the ocean that darkness wishing you good dreams that darkness regenerating you until the sun seeps in shining in with a warm hello transforming the darkness to light giving hope for a new day Kyle Lotke, 10New York, New York
