Could something this wonderful and abnormal happen to her, and no one else? At last, Carrie thought, as “Fourth grade, Miss Ann” was called over the intercom. She grabbed her backpack and fought her way through the teeming hallway filled with excited children calling out goodbyes. Her first year at Crestview Middle School had been overflowing with new friends and experiences, but she couldn’t wait to be in the woods. After an excruciatingly long carpool wait, Carrie was finally at home. She rushed up the stairs, almost tumbling over her little sister. “Do you want to make potions with me?” Bridgette asked. Hurriedly, Carrie mumbled something about plans before flying over the remaining steps and changing like Superman into a T-shirt and shorts. She was about to rush out when she stopped to take a look at herself in the mirror. Had she changed during the school year? Big brown eyes, short curly red hair, and freckles all over her nose. Nope. She still was absolutely normal. Carrie sighed. At least she was going to the woods. If something special was ever going to happen to her, she always felt it would happen there. Only at the beginning of the forest did Carrie realize she had forgotten her shoes. The woods were so peaceful, with honey-toned light drifting gently through the laced treetops, and soft moss creating a pillow. After walking awhile, Carrie stopped to rest on the banks of a stream. She was about to take a drink, when she stopped herself. As inviting as it looked, she knew that in modern day only heroes in books could drink safely from streams. Regretfully, she was raising her head when she stopped as if she was a robot that had been abruptly turned off. On the mossy bank opposite Carrie was a perfect miniature house. It was the size of a notebook, and the height of one if turned sideways. A white fence surrounded the house and yard. Its walls were the color of butter and the texture of stucco. It had a pair of tiny front windows and six more scattered about the sides of the house. All the windows had wooden mullions the size of toothpicks. They were even filled with stained red, blue, green, and yellow glass molded together. A beautiful wooden door the size of a large pink eraser and intricately carved with climbing vines stood between the windows. Carrie also noticed a tiny brass handle that at one point must have been a regular button. The red roof was neatly patched together with what looked like hardened tree sap. A stone path winding around the house led to a grove of miniature trees, perfectly manicured and one even having a swing dangling from a branch! Near the back of the house, a rectangle of exposed ground with tiny sprouts peaking up in neat rows could only be a garden. Lying near it was a watering can the size of a thimble. The pathway also turned into steps leading down the steep, sandy bank to a tiny wooden dock tied to which a petite boat bobbed in the current. Carrie’s big eyes widened further as she drank the scene like a warm glass of milk before bedtime. Could she be dreaming? Could something this wonderful and abnormal happen to her, and no one else? Was this the difference she had been waiting for? Her mind swarmed with questions. She splashed across the stream to get a better look but stopped short when she noticed the flaming sun sinking steadily in the sky, casting shadows all around her. How far was she into the forest? She turned around but could not see the path she’d been following. Then she looked at the house where the evening sun through the glass was making tiny pictures on the moss. It was later then she thought; she had best be getting back. Besides, it was the beginning of summer, and she had weeks to explore. Something like that couldn’t just vanish, could it? Her parents were probably getting worried. Sadly, Carrie wiped her dripping feet on the moss and threw one last look over her shoulder before vanishing between the trees. * * * A small figure sitting in a nearby branch watched Carrie’s retreating back. The girl with the flaming hair had come, just as He’d predicted, but left so soon? Yet the figure was not worried. She’d be back. Oh yes, she’d be back. Tatum Schutt, 12Wilmington, Delaware Vaeya Nichols, 11Ozark, Missouri
May/June 2014
The Separation
A haze filled the air, it was a warm summer day. I was awakened by the glistening sun rays that wrapped me so tightly in their heat. Shortly after I woke up, I was greeted by my mom and dad, smiling and happy as always; but I had noticed something very peculiar about my mother. She seemed uneasy, in a way I couldn’t put together. I didn’t pay much attention to it and shrugged it off. After eating a delicious breakfast, I took a shower, got ready, and went outside. I stepped out onto the porch and sat on the steps. The summer haze covered me in a blanket of warmth; I loved it. I loved summer, I loved Iowa, and I loved my life. I didn’t have a worry in the world. From the lush green grass that tickled my feet, to the clouds bouncing above my head, I was content. This was July 15, 2006. My father is a wonderful man, but he has flaws as everyone else does. With his jet-black hair, amazing smile, kind heart, jolly soul, and humor that could brighten up anyone’s day, he was my father. He had friends everywhere we went. On the other hand, with a temper as short as a wick on a firework and anger as powerful as a raging bull, he was Eddie Reyes. The few times that I’d seen him argue with my mom, I never thought of him as my dad. I always liked to believe that he was actually just another person. How could my loving, caring, funny dad be such an angry and spiteful person? What I believed or wanted to think wasn’t important at the time because my mom was done with him. She was packing up boxes of clothes inside the house and was getting ready to load them into our truck. She was leaving and intended to take me with her. I loved summer, I loved Iowa, and I loved my life There was shouting from inside the house, I knew my dad had blown up again, and he was making a grand scene. Through the large glass window, I had seen the other person, I had seen Eddie Reyes. His face a burning red, a flame. He was shouting at my mom, saying that she wouldn’t leave, that she would be back. Soon, he stopped, ran out of breath, I guess. Hesitantly, I reached toward the doorknob, afraid of what the future could possibly hold, but before I could get a hold of the doorknob, my mom charged though the front door with the boxes in her hands. She started loading up the truck with boxes, and it seemed as if I didn’t matter at the moment. I was just sitting on the porch watching, wondering what would happen to me when the dust settled. I wanted to talk to them, tell them to stop and apologize to each other, but I couldn’t; I didn’t have the courage. So I just sat there, as time moved so slow it almost froze. All I could do was wish, wish for a better day, wish it would all stop, or wish it was a bad dream; but all the wishing I had done, did nothing. The time had come where I had to make a choice. It felt like hours had passed. My mother came over to the steps, looked me in the eye, and formed as much of a smile as she could at the time. My father, who had been sitting on the couch in deep thought, rose up and walked out to the porch. You could feel the tension. The hate that was in his eyes was beyond scary. My mom took my hand and led me towards the truck. We got to the door, when suddenly, as if he just realized I was leaving, my father objected, saying that I should choose who I go with. My mother slowly and carefully thought it over, then asked me if I wanted to go to Chicago with her or stay here with Dad. Well, the obvious answer was my mom, but if you take away all the fighting and anger my dad had, he was the best dad ever. I was also scared if I didn’t pick Dad, would he get angry with me like he did my mother? My dad was smiling at me, my mom as well, and I didn’t know what to do. I was six years old and I had never made such a big decision. I chose my mom, my father’s eyes softened, his face flushed, and his smile turned into a quivering lip. He was hurt and disappointed, but not angry. I felt somewhat guilty, as I never wanted to hurt my dad, no matter how scared I was. My stomach in knots and my body shaking, I jumped into the truck. I said goodbye to my father, and my mom and I were off. It’s a three-hour drive from Iowa to Chicago. It was the longest trip of my life. I sat back and just watched as the green fields and blue skies slowly turned into city streets and tall buildings. I hadn’t slept the whole drive. I was too busy trying to figure out exactly what just happened. I knew my parents didn’t get along, but I figured they would stick it out and someday we would be happy again. But I guess things don’t always turn out like they do in movies; I learned that at an early age. The truck had stopped. I looked at where we were, and I recognized the house. It was my aunt’s house. It’s a cozy little place with a fence and park across the street. We were welcomed in, I reacted slowly and was still in shock but they didn’t seem to mind. My cousins and aunt were so friendly and kind that for a second I forgot the things that happened, and
Al Capone Shines My Shoes
Al Capone Shines My Shoes, by Gennifer Choldenko; Penguin Young Readers Group: New York, 2011; $6.99 Though I am fascinated with American history, including Alcatraz, I was drawn to the book Al Capone Shines My Shoes, by Gennifer Choldenko, for different reasons. The main character’s name is Moose, a nickname that I have been called for years. He has an autistic sister. After reading a review in Stone Soup by Richard Ma [May/June 2013] about Temple Grandin, a world-famous animal rights advocate with autism, I became interested in the symptoms of autism and how autism affects people. Choldenko has written a wonderful novel full of action and solving crimes and the importance of communication. This is the second book in the trilogy. In Al Capone Shines My Shoes, Natalie, a sixteen-year-old girl faced with a severe case of autism, and her twelve-year-old brother, Moose, who is entrusted to take care of her, go on adventures with their friends. At first their life is more hectic than usual because they move to Alcatraz. Moose hates the move because he has to leave his old friends and make new ones, which he is not sure he can do. I know exactly how he feels because my parents are diplomats, so I have moved four times in eleven years. Moose makes a few friends on the island, such as Jimmy, a boy interested in science and flies; Annie, the best baseball player on the island; and Piper, the warden’s daughter and a giant troublemaker. Moose faces many difficulties throughout this book, because in the first book, Al Capone Does My Shirts, Moose asks Capone to help him get Natalie into a school for autistic children. In this book we learn that, as recompense, Capone asks Moose to get yellow roses for his wife. The first problem is that if Moose is found helping Capone, his family will be thrown off the island. The second challenge is Moose needs to keep Annie quiet after she finds out about his deal with Capone when she accidentally gets Moose’s laundry. Though I have never been in a situation where I have needed to repay a prisoner for something, I can imagine how nerve-racking it would be. Throughout the second book, Moose shows cunning and quick thinking. For instance, Jimmy’s younger sister gives their baby brother a penny. When Moose hears the baby stop crying, he discerns that something is wrong. He runs with the baby to the doctor’s office and saves the baby’s life. Moose also shows quick thinking when he and Piper spy on an event with Capone and other prisoners. When a guard spots them, Moose quickly comes up with an alibi. At the end of the book, a conflict arises between Jimmy and Moose, and they stop talking to each other. Later they work as a team to elude capture. Throughout the book, danger and action play vital roles. They help build the suspense but also assist in the telling of the story and create vivid images that the reader can picture from the wonderful descriptions. The book also talks about the importance of relationships and how friendships can be broken apart but also mended once again. I would like to read the third book in the series for it is bound to have wonderful descriptions and great plot lines. Jacob Zacks, 11Herzyllia Pituach, Israel
