“Let’s play airplane!” she giggled Carl looked out the window. He could barely see the park across the street because of the fog. He had to stay at his house all day today because of the fog warning. Now all he had to do was to get his baby sister to bed so he could sit back and relax. She had had her bath and was in her pj’s and ready for bed. When he looked back at his living room, he groaned. The day had been a long one, and the whole living room was a wreck. Lego pieces scattered everywhere on the floor and white shreds of paper taped to the table. His baby sister apparently was having a blast. His parents had gone out for a meeting before the fog set in, leaving Carl to babysit his messy sister. “One, two, three!” she said as she made a whooshing sound like an airplane and ran around the table. “I can count to three!” “Isabelle, it’s time for bed,” he said in his nicest voice. Of course, Isabelle didn’t want to go to bed yet. “Let’s play airplane!” she giggled. “Isabelle, if you want to play airplane, that’s fine with me!” An idea began forming in Carl’s mind. He stopped her and carried her up the stairs to her room. “Whoosh!” he said as Isabelle laughed the whole way up. He opened her bedroom door and set her down. But immediately Isabelle ran out of the room and down the stairs again. “I’ll read you a story!” he yelled down the stairs as he rapidly ran down after her. He heard a door slam but couldn’t tell which door it was. His four-year-old sister was small, making it hard to find her if she decided to play hide-and-seek. First thing he did was open the main closet door. Just coats and muddy shoes. Next he ran down to the basement. The lights were on, so she may have run down here. He checked under the Ping-Pong table, but with no luck. Next he checked behind every Rescue Heroes toy set, but still no Isabelle. He checked behind chairs, underneath blankets, and just about every place in the house. Isabelle seemed to have disappeared. “Isabelle!” he yelled. “Come back here right now!” Footsteps came from the main living room, so he ran in there, just to see that it was his toy robot on the table. It automatically turned on whenever someone walked past it. If Isabelle had gone in here, she must have accidentally turned on the robot. He pushed down on the robot’s head to turn it off and then looked thoroughly through the living room. Of course, he still couldn’t find Isabelle. Suddenly, he got an idea. He ran up to her room and dug through the pile of books on the floor and found the book entitled Story Time for Children. Then he ran into her walk-in closet and flipped a switch on the household intercom. Now everything he said would be amplified throughout the house. He cleared his throat and said loudly, “This sure is a good story! Too bad Izzy isn’t here to listen to it!” He flipped a switch on the intercom and listened. Footsteps were running through the house and, according to the lights on the intercom that told where the sound was coming from, were going through the rooms, up the stairs, and finally into Isabelle’s room. She sat down on the bed and got under the covers while Carl got out of the closet and sat down to read the story to her. He had finally gotten his baby sister to bed. Now he could sit back and relax. But then he remembered something. The horrible mess in the living room. Alexander Freed, 12West Des Moines, Iowa Natasha Pettit, 12Wellington, New Zealand
November/December 2013
Heights
“This is dangerous,” I say. The cold wind stings my cheeks and ruffles my hair. But I keep climbing up the old rusty ladder, trying to ignore my numb hands and my pounding heart and the fact I’m over twenty feet in the air. “Well, yeah,” Addie says, snorting sarcastically. Isn’t she the perfect, ever-supporting best friend? No. She looks down at me, like she’s trying to guess what I’m thinking. It probably isn’t too hard. I’m shaking, and my breath is ragged. My voice is probably higher than usual. I’ll admit it—I’m scared of heights. “Who said climbing up an abandoned thirty-foot-high water tower—at night—would not be dangerous?” she adds. I look down. Bad idea. “Can we please go down?” I beg. Climbing up a rickety ladder to an old water tower at night was not my idea. Why do I listen to Addie? I have no clue. Sue me. “Scared, Conner?” she smirks. Her tone is victorious, like she caught me doing something naughty. Hypocrite. “Of falling? Actually, yes!” I snap, annoyed. Just because Addie was fearless, didn’t mean I was, too. Not everyone is as perfect as Addie. The look on her face softens. “Oh.” She looks up, avoiding my eyes. “Don’t worry, we only have ten rungs left,” she says. I look down again. Our bikes, purple and orange, look small. “Hurry up, then.” Finally, we’re both on a platform, staring at the quiet land around us. Iron bars that once might’ve been railing are strewn around the small platform. Trash—wrappers, glass bottles, plastic bags—are tangled amongst the large mass of metal. Addie crinkles her nose at the trash, and if I wasn’t her best friend, I’d almost say she is cute. But I am. Deal with it. Addie’s hair is always a mess, looking like she’s just rolled out of bed. Even though it’s in a long braid down her back, I can still see random black hairs defying every law of gravity. She has bright green eyes and, as always, a smirk that immediately vanishes when adults walk by. Addie is short, but I learned the hard way not to say that to her face. “Wow. Isn’t it brilliant?” she asks, nudging my shoulder. I nod in agreement. The view really is fantastic, but I can’t really enjoy it, thanks to my fear of heights. The city, about four miles away, glitters. I can barely make out the tall forms of skyscrapers against the dark sky. The suburbs stretch outwards. To the left, a grove of trees dominates several acres of land. The moon glows white against the sky, while small stars twinkle. Addie points to a bent ladder leaning against the water tower. I think, Oh God, no. “Coming?” she asks with a wolfish grin. “For Pete’s sake, Addie…” I really, really don’t want to. “I didn’t say you had to come.” “Yeah, whatever.” I’m pretty sure bringing a girl to her door is polite. So, following her up a rickety ladder that may or may not be stable is definitely gentlemanly. My mom would be so proud. Oh, wait—I snuck out of the house past curfew, climbed up an old water tower, and was now praying it didn’t fall down. I don’t think she’d be too proud. Win some, lose some. I follow her up the ladder, praying it doesn’t twist the other way or something. Now we’re on the top of the roof, the closest to the sky I’ve ever been. It’s so darn big, and I feel so small and puny. I’m trying to breathe normally. Addie’s perfectly calm, though. I close my eyes. “This doesn’t scare you at all?” I ask through gritted teeth. She looks at me curiously. “The heights?” “No,” I say, sarcasm dripping from my voice. “Of course the heights!” I’m slightly hysterical. She shakes her head. “No. Heights… have never scared me. I love heights, in fact. Airplanes, roller coasters, cliffs.” I stare at her in shock. “Are you human, Adds? We’re up, about thirty feet, in the air, and you’re not scared?” “No. It’s OK, though, because I’m scared of drowning.” Addie, scared of drowning? Addie, the brave? Addie, the invincible? That didn’t seem possible, but the look on her face is sincere. “Wow. Isn’t it brilliant?” She shudders. “But, I learned how to face my fear. I don’t let it control me. So I swim as deep as I can go and hold my breath until I can’t hold it anymore.” I bite my lip. Then stand up and look down at the ground. My legs are shaky but I refuse to give up. I see Addie smile and stand up with me. “This isn’t so bad,” I say. “No, it isn’t,” Addie grins. And I mentally thank Addie for helping me face my fear. But I still have to get back at her for teasing me earlier… “Hey, Adds, wanna go to the pool tomorrow?” “Oh, shut up.” Jaida Johnson, 12Seaside, California Gordon Su, 11Milpitas, California
My Temporary Window Art
The rain steadily falls, against the roof of my bus stop. The air is so cold I can see my sparkling white breath. I can already tell it’s going to be a long dreary day. When it rains, nothing goes my way. The weather makes my spirit drop, like the temperature when summer slips to autumn. The sky is gray and fierce, so the sun has a difficult time shining through, and showing its warm face. A cloud of darkness looms over my head. I am stuck in its shadow. The groaning yellow bus slowly turns the corner. I drag myself toward the curb as it rolls down the hill. Once I am aboard, the tired frustrated faces of the other kids surround me. I find my seat by a window. The glass is as foggy as pea soup. Nothing is visible through its moist surface, though I wish it was, like on a sunny day. I take my delicate finger and slowly draw a smiley face on the window. In my mind I know this blissful image will eventually fade away, but it will be my sunshine for the rest of this rainy day. Nadia Rossy, 12Bedford Hills, New York
