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October 2017

Facing the Hurricane

It was a stormy day in October 2016. One of the worst hurricanes since Katrina was raging New York city, and for me, the Upper East Side. Flood barriers were being broken, homes destroyed, people getting stuck. The thought of being outside was scary in itself. Yet, my dad, notorious for daring me, dared me to go outside! My dad is at an average height of 5’9, which I am close to surpassing. His hair is cropped black hair and always glimmering in the day. He is known for being upbeat and always daring me to do all sorts of things. He dared me to bike ride on the GW bridge when I was eight, and he dared me to jump off a cliff into the ocean (it was legal and not that high), but even this seemed a bit too much for him. Putting on my shoes, I felt a sudden wave of fear overcome me. I was scared as I touched the elevator’s soft button. As each floor rolled away, I became increasingly excited, but at the same time, a bit anxious. I was worried about what might happen, but also what it would look like. The soft carpet seemed to be all around me. It was on the floor and walls, surrounding me. The elevator dinged, and I stepped out into the lobby. When I turned to the right, I saw something amazing, so incredible. Our windows are huge—they’re about nine feet tall, and I can easily see through them. The winds were whipping about, my legs trembled at the sight. I heard the wind as it went through the trees and went around the cars. I walked down the first step, ever so slightly. I was feet away to my eight-year-old self’s doom. I walked hesitantly the last few steps and turned the cold handle with my sweaty hand, stepping into the small cubicle that separated the outdoors from the actual building. I heard the wind howling outside. I finally, reluctantly, turned the handle into the night. I was scared for the winds and the sound of rain, pitter pat, pitter pat, pitter pat. Our attendant, Julio, was outside. Surprisingly some people were on their terraces also watching. Suddenly I started to understand what was happening when I saw what was about me. There was no garbage, no cars were on the street, and every store was closed. Usually New York is a bit dirty, and always bustling. It was a strange sight. I was trembling, and my face was pale. “Can we go inside so I can read, dad?” I asked my dad. He responded, “Of course, man.” He opened the door and, with his hand around my small eight-year-old shoulders, led me through. I was shocked, usually he would have said something like “Oh, it’s not that bad dude,” but this time I really think he didn’t want me to feel scared or frightened. I thought back to my other times with my dad. I realize now that he would never have brought me out if the storm was that bad. Maybe he was different than I thought at the time. I was so shocked actually that I didn’t look where I was going and banged into the door. As I went up the elevator again, I was relieved it was over. I had been frightened when I went outside. Images still passed through me, like when I saw that car driving and skidding to a halt at a red light. Finally it dinged 5, and I stepped out into the hotness of my floor. I felt safe again, feeling as though I was back home, with my family. The lights illuminated the area in a mysterious way, a way that always spooked me out. I stepped in, and I grabbed The Perfect Storm by Sebastian Junger and read in my bed. I flipped the page and listened to the crinkle of the book, and the winds. As I was reading, I began to think. Did I actually believe my dad would, on purpose, let me get hurt? I didn’t think so. After all, he was my dad, and dads don’t let their children get hurt, especially my dad. I was actually regretting that I hadn’t stayed outside with my dad and experienced the hurricane more. Then, I thought maybe this realization wouldn’t have happened. I think that seeing my dad do that, my thought of me knowing everything about him, changed. I learned he does know my limit and respects it also. Justin Le Veness, 11New York, NY

Only an Ocean Away

I had always lived on the floor above my best friend. I lived on the 29th floor of our building, and she lived on the 28th. All I had to do was ride the elevator down one floor. But now it’s different. Now I have to cross an ocean to see my best friend. Abigail and I had been friends for as long as either of us could remember. You would never see me without her, or her without me. We would stick together, as if glue kept us that way. We were inseparable. We were sisters. We were best friends. It all started on a crisp spring afternoon. The leaves were green; the flowers were blooming; and the sky was blue. I could feel myself smiling as I skipped to the swing set in the yard of my building. I knew that Abigail would be waiting for me there, like she always would back then, three years ago, when we were eight and in the second grade. I started to sprint over, imagining the fun we would have in my mind. Suddenly, I stopped in my tracks. My stomach twisted into a knot. I saw Abigail’s tear-streaked face, and I ran towards her. I ran as fast as my legs would carry me. That moment I knew, just like you know that it’s going to snow long before the first snowflake lands on your nose, that everything was about to change. I gazed up at the leafy trees and the ice blue sky. It was as if the sky didn’t care that everything was changing. Slowly, I walked over to Abigail. I crouched down next to her, careful not to step on her trembling hands. “What’s wrong?” I asked, rubbing her back, which was heaving from her sobs. I looked into her large, brown, almond-shaped eyes. “Please don’t be mad,” she pleaded. “Why would I be?” “Because,” she started to sob, “this is going to change everything.” “Wha—,” I started, suddenly concerned. “I’m moving,” she blurted out, hiding her face in her jet black hair. “To Korea.” At that moment, I felt like crying. My head started to pound, and a faint dizziness came over me. I buried my face into my hands, vigorously shaking my head. No, this can’t be happening, I thought. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. I just sat there, frozen in place. I blinked rapidly to stop the warm tears from escaping my eyelids. Moving? To Korea? I asked myself over and over again. “You can’t move! No, please don’t leave,” I pleaded between heavy sobs. “I need to go. My dad got a new job. Everything’s all planned out. I don’t have a say in this. And, uh, we’re leaving in two days!” She explained, with a hopeless look in her eyes, while she pulled her shiny hair into a ponytail. “Two days?You can’t just leave me! It’s not fair! Wait a second, why didn’t you tell me?!” I could feel my face growing hot and red. “I tried to! You’ve got to understand! Please understand. I don’t have any control over this!” she said, her voice breaking. “Well, I don’t understand,” I told her, my voice growing louder by the second, “Friends don’t leave each other.” “Sometimes they have to. Sometimes things need to change,” she spoke, placing her hand on my shoulder. I pushed it off and turned away, my face flushed with anger. “No, they don’t need to change,” I argued. Things are fine as they are. Why do we need to change it? How could she do this to me? Friends don’t abandon each other, I thought. “Why can’t you be happy for me?” she asked, standing up and crossing her arms over her chest. “Why should I be happy for you?” I snapped back. “How could I be happy for you when you’ve betrayed me like this? You’re abandoning me.” “Betrayed you? You’ve got to be kidding!” she shot back. But I didn’t hear her. I was too busy storming away from her. I hate her. I’m going to hate her forever. How does she think I feel? I thought. That evening passed in a blur. I don’t remember anything from that night. Just being too angry and shaken to speak, eat, or sleep. Thoughts swam around in my brain as I laid under my covers. How does she think I feel? I asked myself again. All of a sudden, I could hear someone creeping into the room. I buried myself underneath my blankets and laid still, as if I were asleep. “I know you’re awake,” I heard a voice whisper next to my bed. “There’s no use faking it.” I knew that it was my mother. I could recognize her gentle footsteps, sneaking closer. “Abigail’s mom told me about their move,” she spoke, frowning sadly, “You’re going to miss her so much! But change happens.” “Why does everyone keep saying that?” I burst out. “Because it’s true, Evelyn. I know how hard this is, and it’s only going to get harder. Whether you like it or not, things change. People change.” I groaned, and rolled my eyes, “It’s all her fault. She ruined a perfectly good friendship.” “What happened?” My mom asked, slowly. “None of your business,” I replied, yawning. “Listen, sweetie,” my mother said, attempting to give me a kiss, “you need to go to sleep. But tomorrow, you are telling me all about what happened between you and Abigail.” “No, I’m not,” I argued. “Just come to me if you need me,” she told me sweetly, blowing me a kiss. “I love you.” “Love you too,” I muttered, half asleep. The next morning, I stared at my shoes as I walked to school. When I arrived at the classroom, I greeted my teacher, Myra, with a plastic smile and clenched teeth. Usually I would be genuinely happy to see her, but I was still upset from the previous day’s events. I glanced around at