It was getting dark. Zoe lay on the hammock on the front porch eating an ice-cream sundae. She looked out at the golden lake thoughtfully. The porch door slammed. Zoe scooted over for her twin brother, Hunter. “Thinkin’?” Zoe nodded. She slurped a chocolate drip off the side of the tall glass. Hunter carefully watched Zoe’s gaze drop toward the other white-picket-fence houses ringing the lake. “I just can’t believe the summer’s over.” Hunter got up and dangled his feet over the porch, brushing some blond hair out of his intense green eyes. “Well, we can come back next summer. We have to go back to school, you know.” Zoe nodded, wishing that the summer would never end. Cool air blew the trees as the twins walked down to the dock. “I just wish we could have done something interesting. All we did is sit around on the dock the whole time.” Hunter rolled up his khakis and dipped his feet in the water, thinking about what his sister had said. “We did lots of stuff. Remember the beginning of the summer? When we first got to the house?” Zoe closed her eyes, thinking of the empty smell of the house, the hot sun beating down on her back. She remembered wondering if there would be any other girls her age at Sunset Lake. Another cool breeze brought Zoe back to the present. “Remember the beginning of the summer? When we first got to the house?” “But we didn’t do anything at the beginning.” Hunter grinned. “Sure we did. We met Daryl and Kelly. And then we went canoeing.” Zoe had to laugh. The four friends had rented a canoe for the afternoon and gone canoeing. Only they hadn’t told anyone. A huge summer storm arrived and blew them up on one of the islands. They had to spend the night to wait out the storm. “We got in so much trouble!” Hunter exclaimed, happy that he had made Zoe laugh. Zoe picked up a shell lying on the dock. “I remember when we collected all those shells.” Hunter took the shell from her hand. “Yeah, that was neat.” They had taken their shells to the little town nearby for the annual shell festival. A tall man with a truckload of shells had bought one of theirs for one hundred dollars! “I’ll never throw another shell like that one back into the lake.” Hunter extracted his freezing legs from the lake and rolled his pants down. “We went swimming a lot.” Zoe could practically feel the sun throwing its fiery rays down at the beach patrons. The run, the jump, then the splash were all clear in her mind. Cool water enveloped her, soothing the burning skin. “Hello? Zoe?” Hunter was waving his hand in front of her face. “Oh! I just thought of the Fourth of July.” Hunter looked out at the purple sky, enjoying the memories. All of the Sunset Lake summerhouse renters had thrown a big potluck on the beach. Everyone splashed in the lake and ate hot dogs and hamburgers. The fireworks burst out with brilliant colors and shapes, provoking oohs and aahs with every dazzling explosion. There was a creak from the house. “Kids, come on in! We have to be on the road early tomorrow, so you need to get to bed sometime soon.” Hunter turned to face the house. “One minute, Mom!” The sky was black, stars bright with prospect. “So?” “So, I guess we did have a pretty cool summer.” Hunter nodded, taking Zoe’s hand. “Yeah. We sure did.” They walked to the porch, happier than when they had come this way earlier. Zoe took a last look at the sparkling lake, the white houses lining it, the tall trees. She inhaled the piney smell along with the memories that came with. She felt that her happiness was unreasonable, considering she would be back at school in a week, but she couldn’t shake the feeling. “See you next summer, Sunset Lake,” she whispered. Mandana Nakhai, 11Tucson, Arizona Zoe Paschkis, 12Newton, Massachusetts
November/December 2000
Christmas Gifts
“Man, I can’t wait until I get out of here, and I can live with a real family,” John said for the millionth time to his best friend in the orphanage, Tom. “Yeah, but I’ll sure miss you when you’re gone,” Tom answered while wolfing down some cornbread at dinner. John and Tom had lived in Saint Vincent’s Orphanage for as long as he could remember. John was tired of the sameness of all the bedrooms and the cheery posters that tried to cover the cement-gray walls. Most of all he was tired of being told how lucky he was to have a roof over his head and food in his belly. It wasn’t like his life was right out of a Dickens novel or anything like that, but the empty feeling was always with him. Now things were sure to change—he had been told that a family had chosen to adopt him. “I’ll miss you too,” he said softly to Tom. “But I bet they’ll be real rich, and I’ll be able to visit you any time I want,” John added, trying to cheer Tom up. Tomorrow, John thought to himself as he lay in bed staring at a crack in the ceiling. They’ll get me lots of presents, especially since tomorrow’s Christmas Eve. He pictured a tree that towered over a high-ceilinged family room with a golden star at the top that threw light all around the room. John still had some mixed feelings about leaving Tom, but he shook off the thought. He saw himself in the middle of his family on some exotic vacation, tanned, and arms around each other—the perfect Kodak moment. Excitement kept him awake for a long time. There must be a mistake, he wanted to shout. This isn’t my family The next morning, John woke up and bounded out of bed. “Today’s the day,” he whispered. It was already eight fortyfive in the morning, and his family would arrive to pick him up in fifteen minutes! John slipped on his best clothes—a white-collared shirt and a pair of jeans. He brushed his teeth, combed his hair, and grabbed a piece of toast from the cafeteria. He had little to pack up, so that didn’t take him very long. It was nine o’clock and time for John to meet his new family. John raced down into the lobby of the orphanage with his suitcase gripped tightly in his hand. There stood a man, dressed in a faded polyester suit, holding the hand of a woman who wrapped her bulky frame in a too-bright yellow K-mart sweater. “Here he is,” the director of the orphanage chirped in a sing-songy voice. John’s stomach pretzeled up. There must be a mistake, he wanted to shout. This isn’t my family. But he said nothing. “John,” the director said as she took him by the hand and pulled him over to the strangers, “come and say hi to your new family.” Her Jekyll-and-Hyde personality was nauseating, but he almost begged her to let him stay, and to tell the two that stared at him to go away. “Hi, John, I’m Mr. Adams, and this is Mrs. Adams, but of course you can just call us Mom and Dad,” the man said with a chuckle. John echoed a fake laugh. “We’re so happy to have you as our son,” the woman gushed. She almost sounded like she meant it, John thought. When they pulled up to the Adamses’ house, the disappointment sat like a lump in John’s stomach. Yellow paint peeled like tired banana skin from the house. Inside, a muddy-brown sofa filled one side of the room. A Charlie Brown Christmas tree draped in tinsel and strung popcorn slumped by the window. That night, John thought about having to live the rest of his life with these people and somehow he felt even emptier than he had felt at the orphanage. But tomorrow was Christmas and some small part of him still held onto the hope that Christmas would bring its magic into his life. The next morning John walked downstairs to find his new parents standing next to the three-foot tree. They handed him a present wrapped in newspaper. “Merry Christmas, son!” Mr. Adams’s voice was warm. John unwrapped the gift and found a football. “Gee, I’m really sorry,” John mumbled. “Why?” Mrs. Adams asked, looking confused. “Well,” John explained, “I don’t have anything to give either of you.” A smile slowly spread across Mr. Adams’s face. “Oh, but you do,” he said. “You’re here, aren’t you? We’ve always wanted a son.” Somehow it sounded like the truth to John. He felt just a small part of the hole inside of him fill up. That night at dinner the three sat around a table and shared food and stories. There was a lot of catching up to do. John found himself talking, sharing bits and pieces of his life, the funny moments and some of the painful ones, too. Once he started, he couldn’t stop the waterfall of words. And for the first time in his life he felt like someone was really listening. And as the sun set in pinks and blues on Christmas day, and laughter filled up the tiny kitchen where they sat, John felt, for the first time in his life, like he was just where he wanted to be—just where he belonged. Scott Limbacher, 10Ambler, Pennsylvania Hannah Rose, 12Marysville, Tennessee
A Test of Honor
Retsina flipped her long, black hair behind her. She looked around at the empty, quiet bunker she lived in. Once it was filled with the joyous shouts of girls, but now only deafening silence reigned, echoing off the stone walls. Girls here on Matia 3 were expected to raise large families, but ten years ago, one woman had changed all that. Sloran, Retsina’s role model, had entered StarCor and trained as a Space Cadet, shocking the entire world. Today was Retsina’s last chance to become a Space Cadet. Trainees were allowed four tries at the test, and she had failed the last three, coming in the top three places all three times. But that wasn’t good enough. Only one could pass the test at a time, and it had been a boy every year. But today, oh, today she was going to show them all. She had trained an hour longer than any of them every day, and started an hour earlier. A grin sprouted on her too-narrow face. One of the reasons she had chosen to go into StarCor was because she wasn’t pretty enough to be married off and improve her family’s landhold. To do that, you had to be exceptionally beautiful, and she was only middling, a short, small girl with coarse, somewhat shaggy black hair and black eyes. Footsteps rang off the walls, and Retsina knew that Sloran was back from patrolling in her hovercar. The older girl entered the bunker with an air of fatigue. “It’s Testing Day, isn’t it?” she asked Retsina. Only one could pass the test at a time, and it had been a boy every year The young girl nodded. “The last one of the year.” Sloran smiled in that distant, icy way she had. The years were taking their toll on the young woman. She was, what, twenty-three Matia standard years old? Most died by forty-five. “I know I haven’t been the best of roommates, but I just wanted to wish you good luck.” With that, she drew Retsina into an embrace. Retsina pulled away, backing slowly out the door with her head bowed; the proper status for a woman of Matia. “Hey!” Sloran’s voice rang out. “If you truly want to be a Space Cadet, walk like one!” Retsina straightened her shoulders, smiled into Sloran’s eyes, and ran out the door. * * * “Mark three . . . two . . . one!” The trainees ran around the course set for them. Grisnom, the head trainer, watched their progress with a smile. He had produced a fine crop of Cadets this year, even with that “pesky” girl thrown in. To be honest, he liked her, and considered her a hard-working, intelligent young lady. It was a pity only one from the Elite class was allowed to graduate a year. The finishing tone sounded, and he looked up to see who had won. The girl! The weakling Retsina had won the race. This was her worst area, discounting wrestling. This put her in the lead, with Alsen, a boy her age, right behind her. He walked over to congratulate her. “Well done, Retshine al Tuesel,” he said, using her respectful full name. “Thank you, sir,” she managed in between sharp intakes of air. She looked around her. Alsen was glaring at her for beating him, for there was only one more activity, and only those two would be competing. She paled, and seemed to withdraw for a second. Then she stood up. “I am ready whenever my worthy opponent deems fit,” she said respectfully, with a bit of challenge thrown in. Grisnom nodded and led the way. * * * Retsina paled as she saw the last test. This was the one that had caused her to remain in training for two years. A long, wide, rocky cavern that held a pool of water was the setting. The challenge was to swim the entire length of the cavern, about two kilometers, and scale the cliff face with no safety equipment, fresh out of the pool. The first one to the top graduated, the other went home in shame, or re-applied to the council to allow another two-year training period. Retsina dropped to her knees to allow her long hair to be twisted into a hairstyle that would not fall out. Alsen was doing the same, for none of the trainees cut their hair until they graduated. Retsina could almost taste the nervousness in the air as she stood at the side of the water. “Mark three . . . two . . . one!” The starting tone sounded as she dove into the water, to start swimming automatically. The stroke required was extremely difficult, but it was the fastest. It involved twisting every four stokes to grab the knee, where a propulsion button would be, swim under the water, breathe, mid-dive under, and repeat the process. They were not given propulsion systems, but had to swim the entire length by themselves. Alsen finished up first, starting to pull himself up the rock face, when Retsina pulled the move she had been planning for three months now. She lined her small feet up on a ledge under the water, and pushed, making herself shoot out of the water. She grabbed an overhanging rock, and pulled herself upwards, her feet seeking dry purchase. Alsen looked up the few feet that were between them, blond head thrown back. She spared him one glance as she continued upwards. When the simulated earthshake vibrated the cliff face, she was already at a ledge that other students had proved “safe,” and waited it out. In the course of two minutes, it was over, and Alsen had been thrown into the water. He did not give up, however, but started climbing again, hand over hand, even faster than before. Retsina, however, was almost at the top. With a mighty heave, she threw herself on the ground, having reached the top two yards ahead of Alsen.
