The oily paste on my lips tastes like dried lotion as my tongue shapes the outside of my shocking red lips. My grandmother applies the red tube that was once hers when she was my age. As she carefully brightens the pink shade of skin that covers my teeth, I feel grown up and professional, like a businesswoman or better yet, like a prima ballerina. Then I skip off backstage. As the soft, soothing music fades, the perfectly postured ten-year-olds tiptoe off the stage. Behind them trails a mysterious blackness as the deep red curtains slide to meet the hard wooden stage. The teacher rushes my class of five-year-olds into two parallel lines. In front of me lies the empty stage, inviting me and my fellow ballerinas to dominate, within seconds. The uncomfortable feeling of the lipstick fades and the butterflies begin to settle in, fluttering as if they are contained in my stomach, and will do anything to escape. In the back of my mind, I hear the hushes and last-minute fixings of costumes. One ballet slipper brushes in front of the other in time with the soft music playing throughout the high school auditorium. I look out into the audience in search of my mother and grandmother. All I can see is black, except for the occasional flash of a loving parent’s camera capturing the moment of their child’s first ballet recital. My body wants to dance. I don’t have to think about what the next step will be. I let my body take control of my mind. The familiar face of my ballet teacher is visible. She is perched on her knees right in front of the stage. Her pink cheeks, thick blue eye shadow and bright-colored lipstick stand out in the darkness. She motions the next step with her hands in case we forget. She raises her two pointer fingers up to her pink cheeks and emphasizes her cheesy smile. I know that I can’t smile any wider. The smile on my face is twice as broad as hers. I hope that Mother is proud of me What could make a five-year-old dancer any happier? I have my mother’s full attention, I am wearing makeup like a big girl, and I am dressed in a pink leotard with a rainbow ribbon in my hair to match my tutu. A burst of satisfaction shudders from my pointed toes to my dirty-blond hair as a chill goes up my spine. I am so happy. I hope that Mother is proud of me. The music makes a subtle conclusion and I flutter off the stage like the big ten-year-old ballerinas did before me. The whole dance feels like a blur, like when you look at your reflection in still water. As I step backstage, the smell of gooey chocolate-chip cookies fills the air. As I go to join my friends, my mind is at ease. I can’t wait to see Mommy and Grandmother’s faces; they will be so proud of me, their big girl ballerina. Grandparents, mothers, fathers, siblings and friends start to pour into the room. Hugs are received. All I can see is pink and red roses, yellow daisies, sunflowers, buttercups, green stems and purple lilacs. The flowers perfume the theater like the smell of a spring day. My eyes search wildly for my proud mother and grandmother. All around me I see each pink ballerina cradling her bouquet of flowers like a mother holding her precious child. A sudden rush of panic fills my eyes. “Esther.” I hear my name being called. “Mommy,” I reply, rushing into her arms as if I am a puppy running to receive a treat. My eyes glance over to my grandmother. Her hands are empty except for her handbag, which holds the makeup. My mother smells of citrus lotion, but the familiar smell of flowers is missing. There are no flowers. Was I not good enough? Did I mess up? Why didn’t I get flowers? Do Mommy and Grandmother not love me? As these questions flow through my head, it feels like a big apple is beginning to form in my throat. The tears begin to stream down my pink cheeks. Each drop tastes like a salty glass of water. My arms are empty; I have no baby to cradle. “Esther, sweetie, what’s the matter? You were so good on stage, why are you crying?” “Flowers,” I said, as I started to sob uncontrollably. “Flowers, how come you don’t have any flowers for me? Where are my flowers?” My disappointment shuddered throughout my body. I could hear the calm voice of my grandmother as she told me that she didn’t know to bring flowers because it was her first time at one of my recitals; she just didn’t know. Her words went in one ear and out the other. My mother also was upset and said that this was the first recital in our family and so she did not know about this tradition. She wished that the teacher or a friend had told her beforehand. Why didn’t they sell bouquets of flowers in the lobby? My mother scooped me into her arms. My tears got absorbed into her green knitted sweater as if it was a sponge. As we walked out to the car to go home, my grandmother secretly picked a bouquet of flowers from the blooming rhododendron bushes on the manicured grounds. She told me that I was her perfect ballerina. This made the waterfall on my face run even faster. All that mattered at the moment was that I was the only performer who did not have any flowers. As I look back on that day of my first dance recital, I realize that the bouquet my grandmother had picked for me was the most meaningful and loving bouquet that I would ever receive. Each flower that she picked was a flower of love. Ever since that day, my mother never attended a recital without
May/June 2005
The Angel’s Command
The Angel’s Command by Brian Jacques; Philomel Books: New York, 2003; $23.99 I was excited yet worried throughout most of this book. When the La Petite Marie first set sail they were being followed by the Diablo Del Mar. I thought at first that the La Petite Marie was going to be caught, and then they might have been sunk. The little boy named Ben was a very smart person. Even though his body did not get older, he did. He was very wise and it was easy to see throughout the story. I always get told that I am very mature for my age. I tend to get along with older kids better than kids that are my age, so in a way I kind of act like Ben. I thought it was interesting when he thought of the idea for the La Petite Marie to sail into the rocks off course at nighttime to avoid getting captured by the Diablo Del Mar. When I went to a mountain training camp in September, we played Capture the Flag in the woods at night. It started to rain and it was hard to see. I found a little ditch that I could crawl in to get to the other team’s side without being noticed. It worked for a while but I was eventually captured. What Ben did reminded me of that. One of the most exciting parts of the story was when the La Petite Marie was attacked by the British privateer. I thought that the La Petite Marie would be sunk, but they managed to get away. The rear of the ship was blown away and a few men were killed. The captain, Ned, and Ben were still alive. This reminded me of when America invaded Iraq. Many men died, including Americans. My brother went to that war and now he’s safe at home. My favorite character in the story was the dog, Ned. He was a grown black Labrador that was very intelligent. I admired Ned because he watched over Ben and was very protective. Ned and Ben had a bond that was like two brothers. They had the ability to communicate with each other telepathically. My brother and I live with separate parents, but we still get along just like two brothers normally do. I think we get along just like Ben and Ned. Another one of my favorite characters was Thuron. He was the captain of the La Petite Marie. He was a kind captain who believed Ned and Ben were good luck. When he was in a bar, he was getting tricked by the captain of the Diablo Del Mar. When Ned and Ben walked in, Ben saw that the captain was being tricked so he put up all of his gold. Thuron won the bet, and that’s why he thought Ben and Ned were lucky. He even yelled at his crew members if they yelled at Ben or Ned. He reminded me of my science teacher because my science teacher is the nicest teacher I have, and he respects all of his students equally. Overall, I thought this was one of the most interesting books I have ever read. The characters were well thought-out and each had unique personalities, especially Ben and Ned. The characters remind me of people I know, so I was able to relate to them very well. I like how they have a brotherly bond which keeps them together. I would recommend this book to anyone who enjoys reading adventure stories. This story holds the reader’s attention all the way to the end. Alexander J. Gore, 13 Wheat Ridge, Colorado
Second Chance Ride
“You’re fired!!!” Mr. Douglas said to Paul Greenhorn, a nineteen-year-old boy, after his barn had caught fire and burned to ashes. “I never want to see you on my ranch ever again!!!” he said as he walked off towards the house. “But Mr. Douglas,” Paul said as he ran after Mr. Douglas, “please give me another chance.” “No!” Mr. Douglas said, as he kept walking towards the house. “But it was an accident,” Paul said. “No!” “But I need this job,” Paul mumbled. Mr. Douglas turned around real quick and said, “No! Now get off my ranch before I have you arrested for trespassing!” He then walked into the house. Paul had no car or horse, so he just began to walk down the road. When he worked for Mr. Douglas he used one of his horses, but now he had nothing. Paul had light brown hair and stood six feet tall. His skin was tan and he wore blue jeans and a white shirt. His parents were killed in a plane crash, so Paul lived by himself. When he worked for Mr. Douglas, he always slept in the barn. He didn’t like sleeping in a house. He liked to be by himself. Paul walked alongside the road a ways until he stumbled upon a ranch, with a sign on a fence that read, “In Need of Ranch Hands.” He walked up to the house and knocked on the door. A man answered the door and asked, “Can I help you?” “Yeah, I’m looking for a job and I heard you were hiring,” Paul said. “Oh, that’s true. What’s your name, son?” the man asked. “Paul, Paul Greenhorn,” Paul said. “Paul Greenhorn! Sorry, son, I don’t hire barn burners,” he said as he slammed the door in Paul’s face. Paul then went on to more ranches but it was the same thing; they didn’t trust Paul. Paul went to one more ranch and saw another sign that read, “Need Ranch Hands, Talk to Mr. Wade Sullivan.” He walked up the driveway, walked inside the barn, and saw a man stacking hay Paul walked up to the man and asked, “Mr. Sullivan?” The man turned around and replied, “Why, yes. What can I do for you?” “I’m looking for a job,” Paul said. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. Have you had any experience in this line of work?” Wade asked. “Yes sir. I worked down the road for Mr. Douglas,” Paul said. “Didn’t his barn just recently burn down?” “Yeah, so I guess you heard. And guess you also heard that people said I caused it. “Maybe.” “Well I’ll be leaving now. With all you’ve heard you probably think I did it too,” Paul said as he turned around. “You’re hired,” Mr. Sullivan said. Paul quickly turned around and said, “But Mr. Sullivan, don’t you care I burned down a whole barn?” “So?” “So, that same thing might happen to you.” “Son, let me tell you something. I don’t care what you’ve done. As long as you can put in a good day’s work. It doesn’t matter to me at all.” “Thanks, Mr. Sullivan.” “Please call me Wade.” “Thanks, Wade,” Paul said as he turned around and started to walk away. “Wait a minute. I don’t even know your name.” Paul quickly turned around. “Oh, Paul, Paul Greenhorn.” “Say, do you have a horse?” “No sir.” “Well I’ll have to get you one from the pasture. Come on,” Wade said as he walked out of the barn. Paul quickly ran after him. As they were walking out to the pasture, Paul noticed all of the trees and fields. He noticed how big the ranch was. And there weren’t just horses at the ranch. Paul saw little chickens running around. He heard the cattle mooing from the field. He saw goats and sheep. In addition, he even saw a couple of pigs slopping around in the mud. When they reached the pasture Paul saw many horses running around. Two of the geldings were fighting lead rope, and brought her to Paul. “Paul, this is Jackie, one of our most trusted riding horses,” Wade said. Paul walked to Jackie and petted her on the neck. Jackie was a bay with black hoofs and black socks. She had a little white star on her head. Her mane and tail were long. When she walked, she walked gracefully. “She’s beautiful,” Paul said. “Paul, this is Jackie, one of our most trusted riding horses” “Come on, I’ll show you where the saddles are,” Wade said as he led Jackie into the barn. Paul couldn’t believe how nice Wade was. Wade had it all; a nice farm, sweet horses and many animals. What more could a guy want? Wade took Jackie into the barn and tied her up to the stall. “The saddles are in the little room over there,” Wade said, pointing towards a little room next to the hay. “When you’ve saddled her up follow that trail over there. It will lead you to some broken fences. You’ll find some new poles and wire there too. Good luck,” Wade said as he walked out of the barn. “OK, Jackie. Let’s saddle you up,” Paul said. Paul went into the tack room and came back out with a brush. He took the brush and brushed all the dirt off Jackie’s back. He then went back into the tack room and brought out a saddle, a saddle blanket, a bridle and bit, and a pair of reins. He took the saddle blanket and placed it on Jackie’s back, he then took the saddle and put it on top of the saddle blanket. He grabbed the bridle, put the bit in her mouth, and then slid the bridle up her head. He then took the reins and hooked them onto the end of the bit. He tightened the saddle, untied her, and started down the trail. Along the trail, he saw many birds chirping away.