The movie droned on: ” . . . though today some of the canyons hold man-made lakes. This played an important role in the discovery of . . . ” I slumped down in my seat and let out a deep yawn, despite my efforts at fighting it. How could they expect anyone to be alert and focused in the last class of the last day before winter break? Crinkled notebook paper lay scattered across desks, smeared in gray smudges from listless doodling. Girls passed notes back and forth, scribbling out conversations that had grown from meager sentences into five-page sagas. A couple kids remained staring at the television screen, lost in a deep trance. It made me wonder whether people could actually fall asleep with their eyes wide open. I rested my chin on my fist, gazing absentmindedly out the window. Big, fluffy white snow flurries floated down loftily from the sky, settling atop the old, leftover snow in a thin, new layer. It looked to me like good packing snow, the kind you can build big, bulky snowmen out of. Perhaps I’d build a snowman of my own when I got home. That was, of course, after I dropped by the Andersons’ house. Mrs. Anderson had called me up on the phone last night, asking if I’d like to look after Maddie, their huge golden retriever, for a couple of days while they were out of town. I’d answered yes without any hesitation. Maddie must be the most lovable dog you are ever likely to meet. I’d looked after her a few times before. It was always fun. This time, however, I felt a little uneasy, a little weird. It would be the first time I looked after Maddie, just Maddie, and not also their gray tabby cat, Gretchen. The great golden retriever shot through the opening like a bolt of lightning Gretchen had been missing for nearly five days now, ever since that horrible snowstorm had blown past. I believe everyone had been a little freaked that day. I know for sure that I had been. We’d lost our power pretty early on, leaving the whole world, as much of it as I could see anyway, lost in total darkness. Outside, the wind had shrieked and howled relentlessly, like dying wolves on their last breath. It beat upon our house as if someone was actually standing outside taking a swing at it. I had to keep reassuring myself there was no way a house could literally uproot itself and fly away, like the one in The Wizard of Oz. Relief washed over me the next day as I woke to discover it had finally ended. Left behind, though, was a trail of gruesome damage. Poor Gretchen. There were no tracks, no clues. We didn’t know where to even begin looking. The outlook was bleak. I felt a pencil jabbing at me between my shoulder blades. “Hey, Katie!” whispered Laura. “Some of us are heading over to Caribou after school. You gonna come? It’ll basically be me, Allie, Sylvia, Steph. Maybe even Tim and Rich.” I was already shaking my head no, but stopped as she mentioned Rich. He was new. We’d met him only a few days ago. He had bright blue eyes and the kind of smile that made you want to smile too. I toyed with the thought of going, but eventually discarded it. Maddie was waiting for me. The sorry pup, locked up all day in that house. She was probably dying to get some fresh air. Rich would just have to wait. “Sorry,” I said, “I’ve got a job to do.” “Another dog thing?” “Yeah.” The movie snapped off and the screen went blank. “OK, class,” Mrs. Chavez said, rising from her desk. “Your homework over break will be to take notes on Section Two of Chapter Ten. We’ll discuss them when we get back. You’re dismissed.” I packed up my books and battled my way down the bustling hall. Kids, anxious to begin their winter break, swarmed all around in a brilliant chaos. Somehow I managed to reach my locker, retrieve my backpack and some books I needed, and now was heading for the front entrance. Quickening my pace, I was able to disembark, without interruption, swiftly out the doors. * * * It was snowing like mad by now. Cold too. Thank goodness I didn’t live far off. Down a couple of streets, left at the main intersection, and I was in my neighborhood. I stopped first at my house, dropped off my backpack, snatched the Andersons’ key off the table, and ventured back outside. The Andersons lived only three houses down. I inserted the key in their lock and twisted. The door swung open easily and I strode in. “Woof! Woof!” Maddie came barreling around the corner, jumping up to greet me like I was the first person she’d seen in years. Though that’s probably the way she feels, I realized, as she sent me reeling backwards. “Whoa there, Maddie,” I said, taking her front paws off my shoulders and setting them back on the ground. “Happy to see you, too.” I led Maddie through the house and opened the door to their fenced-in backyard. The great golden retriever shot through the opening like a bolt of lightning, galloping into the fresh, powdery snow. She looped about in huge, winding circles, dashing this way and that, sprinting around crazily as if her life depended on it. I smiled. That was Maddie for you. Eventually Maddie began to slow, and she sat herself down right at the farthest corner of the yard. Her snout almost touched the cold metal of the fence. She was staring out at something, very still, a deep sadness seeming to have suddenly fallen over her. Her eyes clouded over, her tail drooped low, and all the while she kept staring out ahead of her. Whining softly, she began pawing at the fence. My face was
November/December 2005
Penny’s Journey
The hole, setting there in the middle of the clearing, was by no means small, but the little, wide-eyed girl of thirteen years was still amazed that something as big as a dragon could’ve fit through it. Penny was a peasant in the town. She had left the city’s gates to fetch water for her family when she sighted a strange trail of scales and prints leading off toward the forest. And then she had seen it—a glittering, sky-blue dragon with magnificent leathery wings and blazing green eyes. It had been only a second before it had slithered into the burrow in a final flash of radiance. Now Penny stood beside the hole, her straight profile outlined in the setting sun, confident, but tense—like a tiger waiting to pounce, dirty-blond wisps of her hair escaping from a messy bun in the evening breeze. Her empty water jug lay upturned and forgotten. The people of her city dreaded dragons, their emotions mixed with fear and anger. But even Penny, after seeing a dragon in its most innocent form, could not blame them. Only thirteen years had passed since the dragons had come. There had been nine of them, all fiery red, with hot, searing breath and wide, hungry mouths. They had killed Penny’s sister, mother, and father. She could not remember any of them, though, because that was the night she was born, two hours before her family was killed. Now, all that remained of her relatives were her uncle, aunt, adopted two-year-old brother and her grandparents, who all lived in the same mud hut. Penny raced among the tall, ominous pines and oaks, their snagging branches snatching at her skin and clothing. She only slowed to a steady trot once the trees thinned and she could see the village gates ahead. The village was small and nearly everyone knew everyone. But ever since the fateful day when Penny was born, each person had grown independent and sharp. Penny raced among the small, familiar houses until she saw the tiny mud-brick cottage with a thatched roof that was her own. After murmuring a brief apology for not getting water to her hawkeyed, hands-on-her-hips kind of grandma, she trotted briskly to her small room in search of a good book. But thoughts of the sky-blue dragon slowly led her to the window, looking out toward the dark forest. Through all of what Penny had experienced in her thirteen short years, she had a will tougher than most young girls. But this—it pulled on her as if by magic and soon she was sprinting toward the wood again. She soon came upon the hole, but this time she didn’t stop. She dove right in, and blackness shrouded over her thoughts. * * * Penny woke up feeling like she had too many of Grandma’s cakes the night before. Trying in vain a mess of disheveled hair, she turned her sharp chin to a noise in the door. There sat the dragon, its glittering eyes focusing on the young girl. Finally, in a deep, throaty voice, he said, “I’ve been waiting.” Penny sat speechless with wonder. Before she could think of the strangeness of what he had said, he croaked again, “What is your name?” “Penny” “Where do you come from?” “The village.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Are you scared?” “Yes.” “I can make you happier.” The dragon’s eyes seemed to smile. Penny’s eyes flared in anger. “Who said I wasn’t happy?” she snapped angrily. She stood as if to leave. “Please,” the dragon sighed, rustling his wings. “I am lonely. Stay” And then, “I will show you my world.” “But . . . ” Penny objected, but then a burst of color flashed into her mind. She cried in astonishment, and as more images splashed across her thoughts, she realized that the dragon could not only speak, but he could pass on pictures into another’s mind, too. Into Penny’s mind sparked dazzling mountains, sparkling rivers, and creatures of all different kinds. And suddenly they stopped. Penny only realized that she was closing her eyes then, and she looked up, blinking, at the dragon, who gave a kind smile back. “That was . . . wonderful,” Penny stammered quietly. The dragon stretched his wings, then calmly asked, “Would you like to live there? With me?” The dragon stretched his wings, then calmly asked, “Would you like to live there? With me?” Penny thought of the astounding offer. Her thoughts returned to the pictures—the castles, and treasure, pirates and mermaids and lakes and . . . everything imaginable. But how? How could there be a place so . . . perfect? But, she thought, Grandma had always said there was a perfect place—later. But was this what she had meant? Thinking of her grandma made her thoughts whirl to Stefan, the small outcast who her family adopted, his pudgy cheeks and tumbling chuckle. And of tight-lipped Grandma, “pleasingly plump” Aunt Mabel, tall, dangerous-looking Uncle Ted, and old Gramps, who couldn’t walk or remember anything. “Not much to speak of,” Penny said dismally to herself. But they were enough. Her sharp complexion turned toward the dragon and she stated flatly, “I’m sorry. But I refuse.” The dragon let out a strange human-like scream. Then, his textured scales turned into folds of smooth, silky black robes. His green eyes turned dark and dangerous as his snout folded in and a beard sprouted from a jutting chin. And there stood a man—a magician—with an evil glint in his eye. “Penny, you’re the last one of a long line. Your father was the twenty-third in that line and you, the twenty-fourth. If you haven’t figured it out by now, I plan to have you eliminated from existence.” She had. Her first instincts told her to turn and run, but she wanted to learn more. “Why are you doing this?” Her voice was confident. The only thing betraying her fear was in her eyes. “One of your
Happiness in the Johnson Family
I smell butter cookies, hot chocolate and the stickiness of sleep As we gallop up the stairs to the family room My brother jumping up and down beside me Like a monkey in his tree-green plaid pajamas The tree is glowing like a pyramid of radium And the presents, mysterious cubes and ovals wrapped in slippery wax wrapping paper The color of fluffy foamy whipped cream I hope to get a new skateboard or a surfboard Or any kind of board that moves I imagine tearing through the boxes to discover the treasure within We stare at our thumbs as we wait as impatiently as dogs about to be fed For my parents to wake up so we can open presents But we only hear our dad snoring As loud as the howl of the wind on a crisp, cold winter night But then we turn around and see our rumply tousled parents in the pine-scented hallway “You can open your presents now,” they say With smiles as wide as two slivers of the moon “Finally!” my brother and I shout as we rush towards the pile of mysterious presents In the boxes I find root-beer-scented surf wax A black leash to hold me to my surfboard and my surfboard to me And foamy grip tape to help me from slipping off the board And as I hear my mom’s gracefull laughter As she watches my brother bounce around the living room With a ribbon tied around his legs and arms as if he were a present I feel cozy in a blanket of happiness and love Colin Johnson, 11Laguna Beach, California
