The gray sky wavers Between day and night. A distant train whistle blows Skimming the solidity of the moment. Quiet again, The atmosphere is unreal. No movement, Other than the occasional rustle Of wind stirring leaves. A brave bird calls out, Unsettled by the silence. No reply. The heavens lighten, Until finally The sun appears, Smiling upon the world. The birds now begin to sing, A chorus of relief, All with the same message: The day has come. Sophia Gehrmann, 13Urbana, Illinois
November/December 2009
Christmas Magic
Stars gazed drowsily out from the folds of an indigo night sky. The yellowish glow of the moon painted shadows of the toothy Chicago skyline over the streets. A white expanse coated the city and, for once, the bustling streets were quieted. The ground was vacant of footsteps because the only visitor that would be out tonight traveled in the air. My dad stared out of his bedroom window, his eyelids hanging heavily as he waited, drowsy and impatient, for Christmas morning. My dad pressed his hand against the cold, wooden frame of the window, popping it open. A crisp, cool wind briskly grazed the tip of his ear and a pleasant shudder rippled through his body. He stuck his tongue out to catch a playful snowflake flitting in front of his nose. It did a gentle pirouette and landed on his tongue, melting like an ice cube in hot cocoa. He stuck his head further out the window, like a dog in a pickup truck, leaning over the sill. The pointy rooftops, surrounding his home, sparkled in the moonlight, edges softened by the snow. Snowflakes tiptoed across the spindled branches of the naked birch outside his window, spiraling gracefully to the ground. My dad longed so much to jump out of the window and join them. His chin rested against the palm of his hand, and, as his thoughts drifted into sugarplums and gingerbread, promises of tomorrow danced in vivid bright colors. A noise, almost like a tower of blocks crashing down, split through the silence. My dad jerked his head from the window with a start, pulling himself out of a peaceful sleep. He blinked his eyes groggily, gazing from his bookshelf to his bed stand, both painted a hazy black by the shadows. The only sound was the continuous ticking of the clock, both of its bold black hands pointing at the twelve. I knew it wasn’t morning already, he thought as he lay his head back down, disgruntled. The door swung open and a tall majestic creature stepped through It was exactly 12:31 when the door was gently bumped open. The light from the hallway streaked a yellow line across his dark wall. A brown, furry snout pushed its way through the small crack of the door. My dad watched this scene from half-open eyelids, his brain still trying to decide whether this was real or still part of his dream. As the door creaked, my dad pressed his body against the windowpane, the cold, smooth glass chilling his skin through the thin fabric of his pajamas and waking up his brain. This was not a dream. Fear arose in his heart, the nightmares of his earlier childhood ran through his head like a black-and-white film. The snout was crested with a twitching, black nose, cautiously searching for a hint of what was behind the door. The creature took a delicate step forward, revealing a thin, bony leg covered in brown fur. The door swung open and a tall majestic creature stepped through. The reindeer’s forehead was marked with a white diamond placed in between two dark, brown eyes. They were so innocent and gentle, sparkling in the moonlight. The fear that had once pulsed along with my dad’s heart was immediately wiped away. The deer stepped closer with its head bent down and its ears pricked. He sucked in his breath. The deer’s coat was the color of cinnamon on a freshly baked roll with spots scattered over its back, white as snow. The deer was in arm’s reach now. Should he dare? He didn’t have time to decide though, because the deer leaned forward and gently nuzzled him in the ribs. Its touch was warm and soft, sending magic unfurling in his heart like a morning flower, its exuberant, orange petals peeling open in the light. Bursts of fireworks sizzled in his head, as my dad lifted his shaking hand and laid it on the deer’s smooth coat. He stroked the deer’s fur, back and forth, back and forth. Then a small chuckle erupted from the hallway. The deer immediately turned and silently galloped out of the room. The warmth of the reindeer still tickled his skin as my dad watched the door gently click shut. Bowing his head down, he explored his hand with all his senses, it smelled like snow and warm honey, it was warm, sticky and moist. Smiling, he curled up against the windowsill, pressing his hand to his chest. It fit snuggly and felt like magic. His tired eyes flew across the sky one more time and rested on the pale, white orb, the queen of night looking down upon her loyal subjects, the twinkling stars. My dad smiled, his eyes dancing from the trees to the endless heavens above. “Merry Christmas!” he whispered, his words carrying through a crack in his window and up into the indigo, night sky. Based on a story Lizzy’s dad told her every Christmas. Lizzy Teerlink, 13San Francisco, California Katya Lopatko, 13Grapevine, Texas
Another Way to Win
Jessica Terry sat in the front seat of the truck, her window half rolled down, willing cool air to come in and blow the sweat off her face and hands. Her thick, dark hair blew, untamed, around her pretty face and large, dark eyes. “How much longer, Dad?” Jessie asked, and felt a sudden flutter in her stomach. This was what she had been working towards for the past many months. This was what she had driven for, and a lot of labor and sweat had gone into her hope for success at this event. But now, Jessie was seriously questioning her ability to go into this. She had changed overnight from the sensible, stubborn, and never-give-up girl she was into an emotional wreck. She tugged on her dark hair again, waiting for her father’s response. “Not too long now, hon.” He looked into her worried eyes and let out a soft chuckle. “Don’t worry, honey. You and Bailey are only the most fantastic performers in the country! You’ll do fine.” Jessie gave him a wobbly smile. “Sure,” she said. “And someday pigs will fly,” she huffed under her breath, so soft even her father’s keen ears did not pick up her doubts. * * * Thirty minutes later, Jessie was in the warm-up ring. Bailey felt fresh and distant beneath her, like he was one being and she was another. Her face closed and annoyed, Jessie watched other riders canter their horses perfectly over a small warm-up course of three-foot jumps. Jessie warmed up at a trot and then a canter, but Bailey wasn’t going well for her. Deciding to ignore it instead of deal with it, Jessie urged him over a low two-foot vertical. He launched himself into the air at an off-stride and sent Jessie flying into the dirt on the other side of the jump. Her face literally burning, Jessie picked herself up and went to go catch her pony. Bailey had an evil glint in his eye when she angrily grabbed his reins. Jessie forgot there was anyone in the world but her and Bailey Settling down, Jessie began to trot Bailey around the ring. It wasn’t a good trot, though. It was an unconnected, novice trot, and although Jessie knew it looked fine, she realized that her many years of hard work, learning how to trot perfectly, were really nothing compared to the beautiful, framed, airy, and connected trots others were warming up on. Jessie picked up a canter, but it was flat and bored, not the springy, exciting-to-watch canter it should have been. Jessie was getting ready to jump a two-foot oxer when her father came running over. “Jessie,” he called, “you’re up in two riders!” He obviously saw the shock and horror on her face as she brought Bailey to a walk before he added, “Get to the arena, hon. Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.” “But Dad,” Jessie objected, “I haven’t even warmed up over a low cross-jump! How in the world will we jump four feet?!” “You’ll do fine,” he repeated, obviously unable to add any more encouraging words. With a grunt and moan of frustration, Jessie followed him to the show arena. * * * “Your next rider is Jessica Terry on Bailey Star, number 897. Jessica Terry on Bailey Star, number 897.” Jessie barely heard the announcement, so nervous was she. She trotted in, circled once, and pushed Bailey into a rock-solid canter. She waited until she had momentarily tamed the butterflies dancing in her stomach before heading towards the first jump. For a second, she felt the old Jessie coming back, just a little bit. This was it! This was what she had been working towards! Then a sudden shudder of nerves ran through her stomach, and Bailey faltered. She retrieved him immediately with a firm squeeze and then focused on counting down the strides towards their first jump. Three, two, one. Jessie felt Bailey lift up into the air. He soared over the jump, landed on light feet, and, to Jessie’s instruction, turned towards the three-foot-nine oxer. The stubborn, irritating horse he’d been in the warm-up ring was gone, and Jessie thanked the heavens for it, even if she wasn’t in the time and place to puzzle over why exactly he was all of a sudden a dream to ride. Jessie was so concentrated and focused, she forgot there was anyone in the world but her and Bailey. The next few jumps passed in a blur of flight, suspension, and the soft thud of hooves on sand. But even Jessie could detect the crowd hush as they made their way towards the wall. This jump was large, solid, and terrifying. They hadn’t been permitted to warm up over a wall, and that was part of the drama of it. Jessie had to get this right! A spider of self-doubt began to crawl into her stomach. She didn’t have time to shoo it away, and before she knew it, Bailey had launched himself into the air! Caught off guard, Jessie was thrown forward into the saddle. She sat back hard, trying to regain her balance, but made Bailey’s hind end so suddenly heavy that his back hooves knocked the jump and a few bricks went flying. Jessie tasted bitter disappointment as they landed, but she knew what she had to do. If her riding coach had taught her anything, it was to continue the round as if everything was perfect, even if she’d messed up big-time. Jessie put all her concentration in getting over the last few jumps spotlessly and effortlessly. They flew over the last jump, and the crowd broke into applause as Jessie brought Bailey down to a walk and exited the arena. Jessie bit her lip. She knew they’d done well, better than many, but the knock on that wall was driving her crazy. “Jessie! Jessieeee!” Jessie looked up to see her father running towards her. His eyes were lit up with absolute pride
