There Will Be Bears, by Ryan Gebhart; Candlewick Press: Somerville, Massachusetts, 2014; $16.99 When I first saw the cover of this book, I wasn’t very interested, so I put it away. A few days later, I had nothing else to do, so I started reading. I was hooked. I could not put it down before I was done. Nothing but trouble finds Tyson! His Grandpa Gene, also his best friend, needs to go to a far-off nursing home to manage his kidney disease. Before he leaves, he “bear swears” to take Tyson hunting. At first, Tyson and his family do not think it is a good idea, because they are worried Gene will get sick in the middle of the forest while facing a roaring wild bear. However, Gene says he’ll go see the doctor before the trip. This calms Tyson down, although his parents still oppose the plan. Reading this makes me think about my own grandpa. My grandpa is my best friend as well. He is a retired engineer, and since he knows I like science, every year on my birthday he always performs many science experiments, which leaves me a lot of good memories. I also love catching fish, so he often brings me fishing, which is always fun. But this year, my parents are against the idea of us going together, since they say I’m too naughty, and my grandpa is aging, so he doesn’t have enough energy to control me. When I look at my grandpa now, he is much older than before. His spine is bent and he walks much slower. I am afraid I am losing my best friend. Now, he also lives in a nursing home, so I have the same feelings as Tyson. Tyson is very reluctant to give up the trip, since it is his first elk hunt. The next day, the newspaper headline is “Ohio Couple Killed in Grand Tetons.” Tyson gets extremely scared but quickly changes his mind and decides to go anyway, since he is looking forward to their last trip. So how did Tyson sneak away? He tricks his dad into thinking they’re going camping in the Caribou-Targhee National Forest. His plan worked: Tyson shoots a deer and meets a bear! In this book, you will see the combat between a dying man, his grandson, and an angry bear. This book has overtones of action and adventure. It is very dramatic, creating breathtaking scenes, active scenarios, and much more. It uses strong words instead of short, choppy sentences. It catches you in a trap-like material and doesn’t let you go until the end. I even had to force myself to stop reading and go play. Once you start reading, beware! Control yourself! Even though there are no pictures, it creates a movie screen in your head. I would recommend this book to brave boys and girls. This story is good for kids who are starting to read advanced books. It has no pictures, but it is shorter than difficult books. Although the title of this story is simple, the book is very interesting. I cannot imagine it being written better. If you want to know more, read the book, There Will be Bears. Jeffrey Huang, 10Ottawa, Ontario, Canada
May/June 2015
A Mysterious Package
I slipped off my shoes and sensed the tough airport rug beneath my feet. Behind me, hundreds of people were waiting in line for security. I slammed my bag into a gray plastic container. “Welcome to San Francisco International Airport. Please do not leave any baggage unattended at any time. We are not responsible for any stolen items. Thank you.” I stepped behind a broad-shouldered man, who immediately marched through the metal detector. It began beeping furiously; he still had his belt on. Then it was my turn. I checked my watch and quickly walked through. It was 10:45 in the morning, and my flight had just begun boarding. So, tugging my high-heeled shoes on and grabbing my bag, I raced across the terminal. B-98, I chanted in my mind. B-98, B-98. As I glanced at a sign indicating that my gate was to the right, the corner of my eye caught something. A slender man in a suit with a green tie was waving frantically at me, trying to get my attention. I don’t have time for this. Come on, Jeanette. You do not have time for this. He looked desperate, and for a second, I thought that I had met him before. I raced over to him, my feet clacking over the din. What does he want? Now, about three feet away from him, I noticed that he was trying to speak to me, but that he was apparently deaf, so the words came jumbled, stuttering, and mumbling at high speed out of his mouth. Then, he took out a cardboard package discreetly and showed it to me with wide, chocolaty eyes. He fumbled for something in his jacket pocket and then displayed a paper and pencil. He was using the package as a backing, and he was scribbling a message onto the slip of paper. He held it out for me to read. His eyes were searching mine, pleading desperately “Please,” it said, and I imagined the voice of a desperate child somehow. “I promise, it is not illegal. It got through security. I need you. Deliver to my daughter in New York. Do not open. Please.” The man was tapping against the cardboard box now, and I looked up. He was pointing at an address. Will he follow me if I don’t take it? How does he even know I’m going to New York? His eyes were searching mine, pleading desperately. I hesitated. I must know this man. I bowed my head quickly as the result of some unidentified force I would never comprehend. I snatched the package and spoke to him for the first and only time. “Yes. I will.” I tried to show him that I understood. Then I fled from him towards my gate and did not look back. However, I did not need to. His deep brown eyes were still fresh in my mind. By the time I arrived at Gate B-98, my wristwatch read 11:01. The chairs were empty, save for a few travelers engrossed in their laptops or preoccupied with their earbuds and books. I walked up alongside the counter, where an attendant took the boarding pass from my hands. “Ma’am, is that your carry-on item?” She raised an eyebrow and gestured towards the cardboard box I wielded in my left hand. The last thing I need is a reminder of that stupid brown box! “Um, uh… yes. It is… my carry-on.” Now I was the stupid one, not the box. The attendant seemed hesitant, but she scanned my boarding pass and waved me down the corridor. I tried to take my mind off the man’s message, which was still stored inside my pocket. I fixed my gaze ahead and then turned the corner and stepped into the cabin, where two uniformed United Airlines flight attendants welcomed me aboard with practiced toothy smiles. I nodded to them and continued deeper into the plane, and sidestepped out of the aisle when I found my seat in business class. Finally, I sat down and pushed my bag and box under the seat in front of me with a sense of relief that the man didn’t cause me to miss my flight. I need to stop thinking about him. I shifted in the fabric-covered frame and got comfortable as the safety presentation began and the engines roared to life. I then began thinking about my trip as I looked out the smudged plastic window. I was just thinking about the fog, and San Francisco, and my house, and my husband, and the reasons for this trip, when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I turned to see the tall flight attendant who had welcomed me onto the plane. Her hair was in an exceptionally neat bun. “I’m sorry, but your carry-on must be either entirely under the seat or in the overhead luggage bins.” I looked down, and I half expected the troublemaking box to smirk up at me. I managed an “Oh, OK” before unbuckling my seat belt and pushing the box with my hands the few critical centimeters it needed to move forward. The flight attendant, thankfully, was off on her way to pester someone else. Where was I? Oh yes, the reasons for this trip. At least GovMail paid for a seat in business class for me. I was bored to death, though, over the subject of Environmentally Friendly Packaging Policies that I had to attend a conference all the way in New York for. GovMail already kills the earth with their transportation methods, and people don’t care. The main purpose of developing “eco-packaging” was probably to advertise my company’s commitment “to saving the planet.” I really wished I didn’t have to leave my daughter for four days over that mess. I watched the wing of the aircraft as we took off, and it sliced through the airport at high speed before my stomach lurched when we levitated off the ground. As soon as we leveled out at our
Paradise Blue
When I grow up someday, I’ll paint my house paradise blue, An oasis among the streets. Wind chimes will line the porch, And will ring like almost forgotten songs Spilling into the depths of a cavern. Proud, leafy trees will hold birdhouses high. Like a giant yellow ball of joy, A forsythia bush will guard my house. From out of my open windows, Wandering aromas, sweet as honeycomb, Will swirl and spin and pirouette. Over my house, clouds will become Puffy white maracas and caterpillars. The air will shed its smog, And I’ll prop the front door ajar, As thunder growls in the distance. Emily Dexter, 13Carmel, Indiana
