Sixteen-year-old Bella sat nervously in her chair. “Think about something else,” she told herself, yet the wandering of her mind always came back to her love, the baker’s son, Cody They have always been friends, more than friends. When they were little they would spend their summer nights together, skipping smooth rocks on the sandy riverbanks. She would shout to her father an excuse to get out and away so she could be left with her beloved Cody She went to the bakery and picked up her lovely Cody These were only when they were little though they were always the best memories, before they knew they liked each other, pondering over the thought of your crush liking you back. But this was before the arranged marriages and the boring Paul and the insufferable Lia. She remembered the nights all too clearly… * * * Cody stood straight and tall in his black suit and his red tie, trying to look good for his father. Cody had to admit it, he was not an orderly man, strict and fierce, he would much rather be in the kitchen smelling the delightful fragrance of dough and flour always ready for work. “Seventeen-year-olds are ready,” announced his father every morning, yet Cody had never thought he would take action. He was not ready for this; he needed Bella, the one he truly loved. He remembered chasing the fast fireflies in the spring with only one thought in mind: Does she like me too? This was before all the decisions were made for them with the arranged marriages. Lia was unbearable and how he hated Paul. The memories were the only things he had of when things were normal. Those memories were his favorite yet he remembered them way too certainly… “Think about something else,” she told herself yet her mind always came back to her love, Cody * * * “Papa,” I yelled, “I’m going to the bakery to get bread then talk to Cody” “Are you sure?” asked Emily suspiciously She hated secrets and yet she always knew them before you knew them yourself Bella, who was thirteen years old, had to give her little six-year-old sister credit. She had so many things hidden under her pink bonnet that you could mistake her for a genius, yet she was always underestimated for being so small. She was born early and going to be small anyway At least Bella didn’t underestimate her most of the time. “I’m just going to the bakery,” I replied smoothly, not to raise her suspicions any higher than they usually were. I pulled on my leather coat. My sister and I always had leather coats because our father was the tailor. We always got the best clothes and we had such a variety. You should see my closet. “When will you be back?” asked my father. Leonard Johnson had a way of sneaking up on you, yet it wasn’t surprising. He would pop up and you’d always be happy to see him. At least most of the time. “Around nine,” I answered, still in a cool tone of voice. I had not looked back but I could sense Emily was still watching me with a close eye. If someone was watching, even Emily’s three dolls, Sandy, Mandy, and Randy, I would make sure to keep my secrets. They were all differently made with different materials and were different sizes and shapes, yet Emily insisted they were triplets and for that I could not change her mind. Before anyone could ask any more I slipped out the door. I was always bewildered by the night, so calm and peaceful, yet it always represented dark and hatred. This confuses me but I don’t mind. I know that one day I’ll understand them just like my father. Fathers knew everything and if they didn’t they would find out. Just last week I asked my father what the stars where made of I haven’t gotten the answer yet. It seems it is taking him longer and longer to get the answers, but I’m confident he’ll figure it out, just like always. “Hello Mr. Chipmen,” I called. “Bella,” the little ones shouted. All five of the children ran up to me like a swarm of bees. After all, I was known as the town babysitter. I was so good with kids (thanks to Emily) and they did all love me too. The sad thing was that was the only thing I was known for. Other than the simple girl. Everyone thought of me like that. Everyone that is except Cody “You must go in,” I insisted. “Your mother no doubt has supper on the table.” Four of them scurried in, following their grumbling stomachs, envisioning their mother’s famous steaming rolls and soft and smooth mashed potatoes. Yet one stayed behind too eager with curiosity. “Where are you going?” asked the small and little Rachel. Rachel was Emily’s best friend and she had the exact plentiful amount of cleverness. They knew exactly what the other one did, exchanging others’ secrets and confidential information. They ran around the town acting innocent and sweet but I knew better. “Where are you going?” I shot back lightheartedly Rachel was sweet and I loved every kid in the town like a sibling. Rachel bought the act and said, “Home of course,” and she put her hands on her hips but the beam on her face told me she was playing. She trooped in right after her siblings and I could see through the window I was forgotten. I let out a sigh of relief and looked onward to find my king and his castle. But Rachel was not fooled so easily and a pair of eyes was following my figure until I turned the corner and was out of sight. * * * My eyes kept drifting toward the door with one thought racing through my head: Is Bella here yet? “Of course not,” I murmured. I
May/June 2007
The Summer Father Was Away
“Jo-bear, Jo!” a voice called. “Wake up, wake up—it’s just a bad dream.” “Where am I?” I awoke, puzzled, my eyes only half open. A familiar face hovered over me in the morning light, sun-bleached hair strewn across his forehead, and clear glacier-blue eyes. A boy about fifteen—my brother, Nathaniel. “Where are we going?” I questioned with a start. “Crazy with Maisy and Daisy!” Mama said. That was Dad’s favorite phrase—it meant that, as hard as we pushed, we would never pry it out of him. Our father, Matthew, was at war. It felt empty the three of us in the car without him. For a long time I could only hear the forlorn sound of the wind and the rhythm of the tires on the dirt road. “I wonder where Daddy is right now,” I asked. Sadness fell like a heavy blanket; I knew everyone was thinking about Daddy. I closed my eyes and imagined what he was doing, but the pictures were blurry: maybe he was listening to the scratchy sounds of the radio as he tried to stay awake on patrol. Maybe he was cleaning his rifle, rubbing oil on the barrel the way he’d shown me. Maybe he was writing us a letter, his flashlight getting dimmer and dimmer as the batteries faded. The summer cottage father loved so much looked gray and forgotten “We’re here!” my mother said, her voice filled with an enthusiasm I sensed was a little too fake. I was jostled out of my reverie. Rolling down the window I could hear the faint sound of sighing waves. Bunny rabbits, startled by the rough engine cutting through the silence, stopped to stare, then run. The summer cottage father loved so much looked gray and forgotten. The flowers he had planted drooped, no longer able to find the light of day. As we carried our bags through the door the sour scent of mothballs overwhelmed the comforting sea-salt smell of our summer home. “Let’s go straight to the beach,” my mother called. “Come on, it’ll be fun.” Nathaniel and I looked at each other—we both knew she was definitely trying too hard. “The sun’s not even out. It’ll be freezing in that water. I’d rather stay here.” “Fine—then I’ll just go by myself,” my mother said, “and I’ll bring those frozen Baby Ruths you love so much with me.” It wasn’t because of the candy that we gave in; it was for Mom, it was for how hard she was trying. I was pulled in our familiar red beach wagon down Tanglevine Lane next to vines of wild grapes. I was stuck between a mix of happy and sad, torn between two people, loving both equally Mom was chattering away about who knows what until, finally, we arrived. “Well, we’re here,” Nathaniel muttered, uncomfortably “Er—might as well go in the water.” At first my brother and I jumped the waves dutifully, skin white with goosebumps. But, as the waves got bigger, so did Nathaniel’s spirits. “Here comes a humongous one. I challenge you to dive under.” Breathing hard, I closed my eyes and prepared to dive. Suddenly I felt comforting arms lifting me—up, up, up—then throwing me across the waves. Exhilaration! I fell under the churning foam, the voices on the shore muffled. But I could hear my father’s voice above the rumble of the waves, “No matter where I am, no matter what I do, I’ll always hold you tight.” The thrill of it made me laugh out loud, the first time in six months. Even when I realized that it was my brother who’d lifted me up, and not Dad, it still made me happy. Out of the corner of my eye I saw—or maybe I was just imagining it?—Nathaniel’s lips (blue and chattering) curling up into a hint of a smile. “Who wants a frozen Baby Ruth?” my mother called. “Isn’t it wrong to feel so happy?” I blurted out when we plopped ourselves into the hammock we had made summers before. I looked at Nathaniel, his lips embedded in a thick layer of chocolate. I pointed and stifled a giggle. He flashed a quick, embarrassed smile, white teeth with chocolate frosting. “I’ve been waiting to feel like this since Father left—but I didn’t realize I could,” I said. “Jo-bear, get real,” Nathaniel said. “OK, maybe not since he left, but for a long time.” The thrill of it made me laugh out loud, the first time in six months I felt my mother’s fingers tuck my wet hair back behind one ear. “You’re my smart girl, aren’t you?” she said. The steady drumbeat of my heart, still pounding, rang in my ears. The hammock sighed contentedly as we swayed back and forth. “You can’t buy a day like this,” Nathaniel announced. It was a phrase Father used that always made us laugh. Before I knew it, he was pulling me across the beach on a boogie board. “Faster, faster,” I cried. This time, he, too, was cackling gleefully. I remember that summer—way more than the rest: father returned with war stories to tell us (with occasional sound effects from Nathaniel). That summer was the turning point of my life. That was the summer I learned that I could live with sadness and still find a spark of joy. Sariel Hana Friedman, 10Pacific Palisades, California Joanna Stanley, 13Seal Beach, California
Jim Ugly
Jim Ugly, by Sid Fleischman; HarperTrophy (reprint edition): New York, 2oo3; $6.99 If you like mysteries and suspense/adventure books, then Jim Ugly is the book for you! Twelve-year-old Jake Bannock’s father, Sam, is dead. He was buried in a pine wood coffin with ice inside to keep him cool and comfortable. But Jake has heard about a fortune in diamonds and begins to wonder if his father is really dead or just hiding out somewhere. So Jake sets out with his only inheritance, a wolf-like tracking dog named Jim Ugly, to find his father and finally learn the secrets his father had kept hidden for so long. As Jake makes his way through the barren California desert on a locomotive train, he meets many helpful and some hindering characters. Some of these characters are: the prim, prissy and emotional Wilhelmina, Sam’s secret fiancée, D.D. Skeats, the self-proclaimed assassin who almost always misses his target, the traveling, boisterous “Arizona girl” performer, and the nasty Cornelius, the man who hired D.D. Skeats to kill Sam Bannock. One exciting part of Jim Ugly is when Jake goes to the doctor who supposedly took the bullet out of his father’s shoulder, but only found a bullet D.D. Skeats had fired at his foot while aiming for his father. This made Jake’s suspicions about his father not being dead even more likely After Jim Ugly sniffs a shirt of Sam Bannock’s, he tears across town to the railroad, Jake sprinting behind the whole way, thinking to himself, “Dad’s not dead! Dad’s not dead!” Thus begins a quest across miles and miles of dry, dusty terrain, over tall mountains and through many perilous areas of California, dodging an old Confederate assassin the whole way. The big idea of this book is that people may change their opinion about others in time, like Jake did after his travels and getting to know Wilhelmina. After his father says, “She’s not much like your mother, is she, Jake?” Jake answers by saying, “Nope, but I like her.” Another big idea in the book is, never give up hope. Jake demonstrates this by never giving up in the search for his father. This quality is great in a human. This book triggered many emotions in me. I was angry toward Jake’s father for not telling Jake that he was getting remarried. I felt sympathetic toward Jake because he was the victim of the story So many secrets were kept from him, even the one about his father! Also, he was constantly being tailed by D.D. Skeats, and to top it all off he was getting a new mother, and he didn’t know! This book would be great for people ages nine and up who like looking for clues and solving mysteries. I hope you, like me, find this book interesting and lots of fun. Alec Ahrens, 11Terrace Park, Ohio
