fbpx
Subscribe Donate

100% written and illustrated by kids ages 6-13

September/October 2005


By

Diver

Justine started up the steep, blue-painted platform stairs. Her bare feet plodded through cold, chlorine-laced puddles that gathered on the narrow steps. Every time her foot landed in one of them, water rippled away from her feet, and droplets cascaded down the side of the stair, glistening as they fell to the deck below. She clutched the metal handrail tightly and stepped onto the 5-meter platform. Often she would stop here and go out to the edge, where she would perform backward and forward dives, flips, and sometimes even inward dives. But today, she kept climbing—up the next flight of stairs toward the 7.5-meter platform. Turn around. Don’t do this, her instincts told her. But I want to! her mind shouted back. Justine kept climbing. She refused to look down, though her eyes wanted to take their focus off that intimidating goal. The 10-meter platform. Her heart thudded in her chest. She felt lost in the roar of her breathing. As she passed the 7.5-meter mark, she was aware of how far away the splashes of the other divers seemed, how distant the lifeguard’s whistle and the swim team’s hands slapping the water in the other pool were. She tried to ignore the sounds. Justine’s mind spun as she stumbled up the last flight of stairs, gripping the handrail as if her life depended on it. Her foot finally touched the top step, and she felt terribly alone on the vast platform. Inching around the wide post at the top of the platform tower, she finally peered over the railing and looked down. Through the maze of stairs and posts and platforms, she caught glimpses of the rough, gray-brown pool deck below and dark, wet heads with bare shoulders, moving back and forth. Inhaling through her nose, she turned and walked stiffly toward the edge of the platform. She felt like a zombie. She rose on her tiptoes and let herself fall forward Finally reaching the edge, she knelt and then shifted onto her stomach to look down. A large, fluffy cloud drifted across the sun. Justine shivered. She could feel the breeze much more up here. With the sun’s reflection gone from the surface of the water, she could see clearly to the bottom of the pool. Her throat tightened, and butterflies suddenly filled her stomach. She stood up again and paced back and forth, stopping every now and then to peek over the railing. She was frustrated. Her head felt as if it would explode with all her anxiety of diving off and her annoyance with the coach for making her wait so long. The more time she spent up there, the more nervous she got. At last, after what seemed like hours, she looked down again and saw the coach yelling up at her, “It’s clear, Justine. You can dive now.” OK. This is it. Justine took a deep breath to slow her heartbeat, then considered. Did she really want to dive? She’d seen the other kids do it plenty of times, but she was so high . . . On the other hand, diving off here would be the same as diving off the 5-meter platform. The only difference was that she’d fall farther. Almost without thinking, Justine slowly raised her arms. She paused a moment; then, bringing her arms down quickly and back up, she rose on her tiptoes and let herself fall forward. As she dropped rapidly toward the water, she took in everything: the blue sky, the shimmering pools, the coaches, lifeguards, and swim instructors pacing the deck, the splashes of the swimmers and the other divers, the birds flying overhead, the springboards bouncing, the sun on her face, the wind in her hair . . . Wow! It was almost like flying. Suddenly Justine didn’t want this moment to end. She felt as if she could soar away with the birds, if only the water wasn’t rushing up at her so fast . . . Splash! Justine entered the water perfectly straight and smooth, the image of an Olympic diver doing a perfect dive. Rachel Stanley, 13Seal Beach, California


By

Peeling Apples

Carefully, warily, Sitting with my mom at the kitchen table. She peels quickly: in a few swift moments One twisted apple peel sits on the cutting board. I try to copy her, but no— The knife slips and Cuts off a small chip of the red peel. Trying again, I get lost in the smell of the ripening fruit (Sweet, almost sickly sweet), Filling the room with a scent like my grandma’s house. And I start to remember the first time The first time I had her apple pie— I wrinkled my nose and said, “Too sweet!” (Now it’s my favorite dessert.) The first time I buttoned up my coat To keep out the cold on an October day, The first time I read a book To my mother in broken, unsteady words, The first time I tied my shoe After hours of torture and trial— And as I think of this, I barely notice the one, perfect apple peel Sitting on the cutting board in front of me. Katie Ferman, 12Three Lakes, Wisconsin


By

Fort Cuniculus

Brumm was woken by the distant thumping sound of the sentry’s back paws. He was lying in a small, warm chamber with his twin brother, Trumm. He lifted one of his ears and listened more closely to the sound. It wasn’t urgent, just the thump that told the residents of Fort Cuniculus that the sun was two ear-lengths from the horizon. Brumm yawned widely and hopped out into one of the fort’s many corridors. The main residents of Fort Cuniculus were rabbits, most of whom were still sleeping, but the temporary residents, hares, were up and about, mainly for an early meal. Hares were always hungry. Brumm chuckled to himself and hopped out of the underground area into the open rabbit city. To the left of his tunnel was the main square at the base of the hill, but he hopped the opposite way, towards some dusty grass clumps. Suddenly another rabbit hopped out to him. “Drumthro wants to talk to you. Come on.” Brumm hopped after the rabbit, wondering why the leader of Fort Cuniculus wanted to talk to a regular soldier. The large, muscly rabbit was sitting in a large chamber at the end of Fort Cuniculus’s main tunnel. “I have noticed your fighting talent and bravery in the last skirmish with the foxes. You are very resourceful and smart. Also, you have a good sense of humor. Because of this I have made you a senior officer.” Brumm could not believe his ears. The first thing he managed to say was, “Really?” but then he composed himself and said, “Thank you, sir. Do you want me to do anything for you, sir?” Just then the Rose appeared with her rosellas “Yes, I do. One of our patrols thought he saw fox tracks west of here. I have a feeling they are up to something, and by the ear, if foxes are up to something, they are always up to no good. Get some soldiers and find the rosellas. Ask them to scout the area all around Fort Cuniculus, especially to the west. Report straight to me. Off you go.” Soon Brumm with five soldiers was on another hill, opposite the fort. Normally this was the resting and feeding place of the rosellas and their queen, Rose. She wasn’t there, so Brumm decided to wait for her. Suddenly a sound resembling a small earthquake broke the midsummer morning. Two kangaroos jumped up to the fort and started jumping on one of the tunnels, making it collapse. One of the kangaroos shouted out, “Hah, there goes one of your precious tunnels. But that is only the start of our revenge. You invaders eating our Australian grass is bad enough, but you eat the roots too! You will turn the whole of Australia into a dust bowl!” And the kangaroos jumped off. Brumm reminiscently chewed a grass shoot together with root and snorted. Honestly, patriots. There were hundreds of tunnels in the fort; it would take the kangaroos all year to block them all up. Just then the Rose appeared with her rosellas. They were a jolly lot, always ready to help the rabbits and even readier to play a practical joke on them. Brumm explained their predicament to Rose, the “most beautiful and bright rosella to fly the skies,” according to her mate, Rosso. She immediately sent a couple of rosellas to scout around and invited the rabbits to a lunch of berries in nectar, seed, grass and flower salad and a rosella speciality, nut crunch. The news spoiled their appetites immediately—a very large army of foxes, gathered from the surrounding countryside for miles around, about thirty animals, was advancing on the rabbits and kangaroos. Brumm refused Rose’s tea menu and went straight to the fort. He told the news to Drumthro, who looked really worried. “With the kangaroo threat, although not very dangerous but still looming, and the food stocks down low, we really need help. Listen, do a large sweep of the area and try to find some other animals to help us. Take Brigade 4, you are now officially its commander.” Drumthro handed a badge with a tiny emerald on it and the number 4 to Brumm. *          *          * At exactly five ear-lengths the fourth brigade departed from the fort. They set off north. Soon they heard a wailing and then a voice, “Help, please help, someone! I’m stuck! Ah000000000!” Brumm told the brigade to wait and went ahead with a reconnaissance party. The noise was coming from a deep pit beneath a tree. In the pit was a large dingo. He had clearly fallen in and got stuck in the mud that collected at the bottom. Brumm sized up the situation and then called out to the dingo, “Don’t move. We’ll get you out if you promise not to harm us.” “OK, I promise, but hurry!” The efficient rabbit called the brigade to him and organized one party to dig a tunnel to the bottom of the pit, and another to dig out the steep walls closest to the dingo and the supposed tunnel exit. Soon the dingo was in the tunnel, and then on the ground. He bowed slightly to Brumm and said, “I am the king of all the dingo packs here. I fell into the pit when chasing foxes. My pack had gone the other way and did not hear me. If you had not gotten me out of there, I would have perished. How could I ever repay you?” “Firstly, you could agree on a truce between yourself and Fort Cuniculus. The dingoes will never harm any hare or rabbit from the fort. And secondly, you said you have a pack. How big is it? We need an army to defeat the foxes attacking us, and a reliable defense against the kangaroos.” “I agree to the truce. My dingoes will never harm any creature from your fort. About my pack, we are twenty in number and sworn enemies of