The air is thick The leaky faucet in grandma’s bathtub is going drip, plop, drip, plop There is a small glimpse of light coming from the crack in my door My bed feels so big Like I would need one thousand me’s, five-foot me’s To fill the bed The air suddenly becomes thinner The faucet stops dripping for a second And I simply fall asleep. Sarah Welch, 11Elgin, Illinois
May/June 2013
Magical Words
You wouldn’t think that two girls who were so different could become friends You wouldn’t think that two girls who were so different could become friends, but somehow, Litzy and I did. I rubbed my eyes with sleepy fingers as I stared into the mirror. An eleven-year-old girl with dark eyes and wild, unkempt dark hair stared dauntlessly back. I took a deep breath and braced myself for the hurricane of T-shirts, arms, cereal boxes, and chaos below, which came with my six rowdy brothers. I let another yawn slip out and stealthily tiptoed onto the stairwell. The floorboards beneath the carpet announced my arrival with an insolent groan, as six boyish faces glanced up nonchalantly and then went plunging back into their cereal bowls. My nose tingled from the spicy aroma of burnt toast and coffee wafting in the air. As I galloped down the stairs, a bright red soccer jersey greeted me unpleasantly in the face. Ignacio grabbed it off and tugged it over his wild wig of hair inside out and backwards. He grunted and shrugged while he shouldered his soccer bag. As little Tomasito clung to my leg, I staggered and clumped over to the hectic breakfast table. My brothers haphazardly stuffed themselves with their breakfast, and I challenged Juanico to the last piece of toast and grabbed a bowl and beat Antonio to the last of the Cheerios. I plopped down into my disarrayed breakfast corner and hurriedly devoured my meal. Then I raced upstairs, threw my blue softball clothes on, raked a comb through my hair, tugged it back into a ponytail, and then raced back down again to snatch up my bag and hug my mom and dad. “Que tenga mucha prisa! .no?” * Antonio muttered, his head turned. “Well, I have to hurry if I don’t want to be late, don’t I?” I replied. “I guess,” the seven-year-old sighed back. Smiling and waving, I exited the house right after my mom called, “Have a great first practice, Ileana, sweetheart!” This isn’t right! my mind screamed at me as I missed the next five balls I jumped out the burgundy door, my cleats clattering noisily on the brick, and closed it behind me before Tomasito could catch me. I excitedly ran down the brick steps, my cleats singing clack, clack, clack. Then I paused and inhaled. The warm summer breeze greeted me like an old friend and buried me in its embrace. I shut my eyes and was enveloped in the hushing softness of the leaves rustling in the wind and the melodic symphony of the birds above. Another gust of wind brought the beautiful scent of Mother Nature blossoming into my nose. I reluctantly opened my eyes and slowly mounted my red bike (of course, another hand-me-down). Contented, I rode happily on, savoring the rare bit of placidness, listening to the soft whirr of the gears and the sweet, shrill calls of the robins. I meandered off the road onto a gravelly bike path leading up to Rushmoore Park and beamed at the feeling of intimacy and friendliness I felt as I parked my bike and locked it in. I lay my red helmet on the handlebar and crunched my way down the long, sloping hill to Field Three. I took a deep breath and strapped on my soft leather batting gloves. Somewhere inside I knew I was a born hitter—when I was little, I used to get angry and upset with my brothers, and I would step out in my backyard and beat on the dead trees with a baseball bat, letting the dam of anger break. It felt natural to me. I shook my shaggy ponytail, washing away the memory, and glanced down at some giggly blond girls wearing short shorts and tank tops, who were posing dramatically in a mirror while layering on lip gloss. A feeling of shame washed over me as I sighed and frowned. Growing up around six boys, I was a pure tomboy. I wore sleek gym shorts and hand-me-down T-shirts mostly every day at school, and I didn’t like silly, frivolous items such as lip gloss and tank tops. I quickly emptied my head as I heaved my bright red helmet and purple (I know, I know, not so boyish) bat out of my bag and crawled through the net into the batting cage. I smiled knowingly and plopped the twelve-inch balls into the bucket one by one. I stepped into my batting position and felt right at ease as I gracefully slung my bat through the air. The first ball rocketed by. The coach barked out an instruction. No, I said in my mind, this isn’t how I do it, and he’s wrong, but I grudgingly obeyed. The second one whizzed past me. This isn’t right! my mind screamed at me as I missed the next five balls. I could feel my cheeks burning and my eyes filling, and I blinked hard and felt the heat on my shoulders Footnotes * “You sure are in a hurry, aren’t you?” Elise Arancio, 11Tucker, Georgia
Wolf in the Woods
Jack looked up at me with longing eyes that shimmered in the moonlight Mom and Dad were asleep. I had to wait a whole three hours after I went to my bedroom to sneak downstairs. Who knew that after kids fall asleep, parents stay up until midnight? Sprinting down the path, my mind wandered to Jack. He would be upset that I was late but happy I had brought him the meat he requested. I got to the edge of a grove of trees and slowed my pace. Twice I looked over my shoulder to see if anybody was there, but all that was near was the glittering full moon. I looked onward. Standing before me were countless towering oak trees that looked slanted as I advanced through the forest. The night sky stood there, too, the darkest of all blacks, providing no light but that of the moon’s for me to travel under. The unusually hushed evening made me jump at every little rustling I heard in the bushes, every occasional whistle of the wind. Yet I still had a sense of security knowing that Jack was near. He would never let a fly harm me after all I’ve done for him. Weaving through trees and overgrown weeds, I drew closer to the cave. Sliding the steak from my messenger bag, I whistled our call. My friend crept from a shadow within his nook as soon as I summoned him. I managed a meek grin of greeting at my furry companion. Then I gave him the meat. Jack bowed his head in respect. I stood watching him scarf down the pink, juicy steak until my legs got impatient and I sat. Jack, oblivious to me, finished his meal and looked up at me with longing eyes that shimmered in the moonlight. “I know you want more,” I told him sincerely. “I swear, I tried. But Mom would realize if I took more. I can’t have that happen after last time. She got suspicious of you.” But he continued to beg, so I gave him half of the crackers meant for me and kept the rest for myself. We both nibbled and stared at the ground in silence. When we were finished, he came closer to snuggle up. That was when I realized just how frigid it was. Ice littered the ground. Jack’s luscious fur provided me with warmth when we both settled down. Soon Jack was snoring in a slow rhythm. I arranged a bed of fertile grass and flower buds with a patch of soft, green moss as a pillow. Jack and I were so close that he delivered heat as well as a blanket. I stared into my wolf friend’s tranquil face as he snoozed. The timber wolf had faded, thick, black fur with streaks of white. When I stroked him, layers of hair were swept off his coat. As for his facial features, his snout was slender and his teeth still razor-sharp as they’d never been used to fight, hunt, or even bite. The teeth were very misleading but made up for with those forgiving, ocean-blue eyes that stood out most of all. He was about seven years old and particularly decrepit, but whatever his disorder, whatever his looks, I loved him for who he was. It was as if he understood English; when I talked to him, he’d nod or bow and always behaved himself properly. He was my protector. Under my breath I whispered to myself, I, Rose Lengton, will always care for and love this wolf with all my heart. Six years ago, when I was seven myself, I found and raised him. He had never been shown how to hunt, so I brought him food and showed him where to find water and shelter. Every day after school I’d meet him in the woods to play, sleep, and care for him. On weekends like today, I go to Jack at night without letting Mom and Dad know, of course. They’d ground me forever if they discovered I was fostering a wolf without their supervision. I had been caring for the dejected wolf ever since he had been abandoned as a pup. Soon enough I fell soundly asleep, although I had horrific nightmares about wars and death. I was awakened by Jack’s nuzzling to comfort me. I felt relieved… until he alerted me with a flash of panic in his eyes that our worst fear had been realized. It was morning, and I hadn’t returned home. My parents would be worried. I snatched my bag, waved goodbye to Jack, and darted through the clearing. I got a glance of a bundle of fur that looked oddly like Jack’s. The sun crept up way high into the sky from behind the horizon, I noted. Not good; my parents ought to have been awake already; I sped up. Mom and Dad were waiting for me at the dining table at home. “Rose! There you are,” cried Mom. “We were so scared for you,” my dad told me sweetly. I looked from him to my mother, unsure of what to say, and uneasy about their looks. Did they know? They couldn’t have. “So,” she continued, “explain yourself.” She put her hands on her hips, waiting for my response. “I-I, uh…” What should I have said? Should I’ve told her the truth about Jack? I had to keep him safe. On the other hand, I’d never fibbed before for no good reason. “Well, um, you see,” I started, but I couldn’t lie. “I’ve sort of been taking care of a wolf for a few years in the woods, and I was out visiting him,” I blurted out. Bracing myself. Waiting for the punishment, for the lecture. But none came. All my parents did was laugh, as if I were joking. I didn’t try to convince them any further. “Whatever,” I said, and went upstairs to my bedroom. They were still chuckling. * * * The following
