JULY 7, 1947 It was early morning when Barry Whitestone rode out to check on his cattle. He noticed right away that something was wrong. The herd was spooked. They moved restlessly about, bunching together, shivering and bellowing, their eyes rolling in panic. Sweat colored their flanks. As Barry rode slowly through the herd, he saw something glint on the ground in front of him. He stopped, dismounted, and bent over to pick it up. It appeared to be some sort of metal. It looked a little like aluminum, finely polished, very strong yet extremely flexible… an odd thing to find in a dusty pasture. As he slipped it into his pocket, he suddenly realized that similar pieces were everywhere. Looking towards the south, he spotted a larger object, which appeared to be made of the same material. As he hurried in that direction, the sun reflecting off the object made it glow so brightly that it almost blinded him. Squinting in the sudden brightness, he saw what appeared to be two human-like forms, slumped against the object. Barry backed away and ran towards his horse. He scrambled aboard, and raced back towards the ranch… now every bit as terrified as his cattle. * * * I had a job at the feed store that summer, quite a feat for a boy of eleven. In the middle of the morning, when the men I worked with took their break, I’d scoot next door to Sally’s Diner for a quick cup of coffee. My parents never let me drink the stuff, afraid that it would stunt my growth. But I was a working man now, and Sally understood that. I’d sit at the counter and she’d wink at me as she poured me half a cup, never more, and made sure that I had a full pitcher of milk to mix it with. Anyways, there I was, drinking my cuppa joe, when old Barry from out at the Whitestones’ place came running in. He was terribly pale, sweat poured from his brow, and he trembled all over as he took the reviving cup of coffee that Sally offered him. The sun reflecting off the object made it glow so brightly that it almost blinded him He sat down at the counter, a few stools away from me. He wasn’t drinking his coffee, just holding it, and his hands were shaking so badly that it was sloshing all over. Several ranchers began calling out to him, but Barry didn’t respond. In fact, he never even looked up. His eyes seemed to be focusing hard on the countertop, or on some place deep inside the counter, like he was looking through it into another world that none of us could see. When he did look up, the diner went silent. His eyes were wide and his pupils were huge, his face was tinged a sickly gray. Suddenly, Barry wasn’t the only one trembling. My chest felt hot and I started to sweat, but my limbs were cold and shaky. I could hear my pulse pounding hard in my ears. Finally Barry said, “Fellas, you’re never gonna believe what I got in my pasture.” “Whatcha got?” someone called out. “Cows?” Laughter rang out. A few of the men began to moo. Sally hushed them with a look. There weren’t many men brave enough to stand up to Sally, especially when she had a hot pot of coffee in her hands. “What I got,” said Barry, “is a flyin’ saucer.” The entire diner went quiet. “… and I got a piece of it right here,” he continued, slipping his hand inside his pocket. Just then, the door banged open, and everybody jumped. A man in a black suit entered the diner—his dress was pretty unusual attire for these parts. He strolled over to stand behind Barry. Six other men, dressed the same way, followed him in the door. They were all big, and calm and quiet, and they all wore dark sunglasses, which made it impossible to see their eyes. Then, the first man spoke. “Mr. Whitestone? Mr. Barry Whitestone?” “Who’s askin’?” said Barry. “Come on now, Mr. Whitestone, no one wants any trouble. Who we are is not really important,” said the man. “We’re from Washington. That’s all you need to know. Now please, stand up. You’re coming with us.” You could tell that Barry wasn’t really too keen on the idea. He stood slowly, looking around the diner like he was waiting for one of us to save him. But we didn’t. We couldn’t. It was all kind of like a dream. I watched as the men loaded Barry into a long black car, which then pulled away up the dusty street. I wanted to follow them. I needed to follow them. I ran outside and hopped on my bike. The car already had a good head start, but I was determined to catch it. I pedaled faster and faster, until the wind began to sting my face, and my feet kept slipping off the pedals. But the car just kept pulling away. By the time I lost sight of it and stopped my bike, my legs ached and my lungs were on fire. I looked around and realized that I was near the turnoff for the Whitestone place. I decided that if I couldn’t catch the car, I might as well ride on out to Barry’s and see what really was in his pasture. As I approached the turnoff, I could see quite a commotion going on up ahead. There was a roadblock and lots of army vehicles. I recognized our sheriff, who was arguing with yet another man in a black suit. “Listen here,” I heard him say, “this is a county matter and I’ve got jurisdiction.” The man replied, “You don’t argue with Washington, mister, we’ve got direct authority from the president to be here.” Soldiers paced nervously back and forth, their rifles at the ready. As I pulled
September/October 2008
October’s Flight
Glancing out the window again, Cammie felt lighthearted Cammie pushed aside her sunshine-yellow curtains to stare out the window. Ghosts, princesses, and superheroes were just starting to file onto Lemon Lane. She turned from the window to look at her reflection in the full-length mirror. Cammie’s curls bounced up and down gleefully in rhythm with her sparkling plastic antennae. A frilly ballerina leotard overlapped lavender tights. Matching wings glittered under the incandescent light bulb hanging from the ceiling. Perfect, she thought. Glancing out the window again, Cammie felt lighthearted. It seemed almost as if she could fly. In fact, now she was flying. She was flying through her window, out of the neighborhood, and into the limitless sky. The moon smiled down on her. Cammie looked down, only to find the most beautiful flowers below her. They came in every color of the rainbow and were speckled with tiny intricate drops of dew. Cammie longed to go down to the flowers and so her wings obeyed and she drifted downward. Landing on a petal, she thought, How odd. These petals feel like bedsheets. Cammie, suddenly feeling indifferent to the petals, decided to taste some of that juicy nectar that allured her. As she bent down to sip, the nectar seemed to leap out of the flower and it splashed Cammie’s face. The moon abruptly became a light bulb. “Wake up, sleepyhead,” said her obnoxious sister, who had evidently poured water on Cammie to rouse her. “You don’t want to miss Halloween, now, do you?” Cammie rolled over in bed and put on her costume. She was a shimmering butterfly. Cammie looked in the mirror and thought, I could almost fly… Zoe Kayton, 12Palm City, Florida Sage Asakawa, 11Lafayette, Colorado
Larklight
Larklight, by Philip Reeve; Bloomsbury Children’s Books: New York, 2006; $16.95 Eleven-year-old Arthur Mumby, his sister Myrtle, and his dad live on an old spaceship called Larklight—until it is attacked by giant spiders. Larklight is an excellent book because you are never bored. Arthur and Myrtle encounter a new adventure at every turn, like being hunted by a huge baby moth or visiting a talking thunderstorm, but it isn’t hard to keep track of what’s going on. In Larklight, there are many beautiful illustrations of scenes and characters, brightening our understanding of what’s going on, but also taking away a little from our ability to imagine it. The cast of characters is memorable enough that you don’t need the illustrations. Larklight is told from the perspective of Arthur Mumby, an eleven-year-old not unlike me. As I read, I felt sympathy for Arthur, who was surrounded by people/creatures older than him, and enchanted by how he dealt with it. He manages to make friends in the foulest of situations. Some of Arthur’s new companions are other than human—such as Ssilissa the lizard being or Nipper the land crab—but I sympathized with them too. They were all very real people—for example Ssilissa is a tomboy but wants to be treated more like a girl—even if they did not seem that way at first. After escaping from their distressed ship, Arthur and Myrtle meet the notorious space pirate, Jack Havock, who is about as old as Myrtle. They take up residence in his ship and work for him as ship cleaners, as his boat, the Sophronia, is very dirty. Soon we learn that Jack and his inhuman crew escaped from the Royal Xenological Institute (which studies aliens) and, since they had no money, became pirates. Jack’s parents “died” of a horrible disease originating on Venus called Venusian Tree Sickness, which turns whoever catches it into a tree. As Arthur and Myrtle’s mom was believed to have been murdered a few years ago and their dad was seemingly killed by the giant spiders, they empathize with Jack, and befriend him. I think it’s interesting that Larklight is set in the 1850s, as most books today are set in the present or in the future. This was especially intriguing because Larklight is about futuristic things, like space travel. In addition, since Larklight is set in the 1850s, the language used in the book is slightly different from modern English. This slightly hinders your ability to understand it, but once you figure out what the words or phrases you don’t understand mean, it is fascinating to compare modern English with that used in an earlier time. My favorite part of the book was when the spiders were defeated. As Myrtle and Jack hug and kiss each other, Arthur writes, “It is one thing to write of giant spiders and man-eating moths, but there are some sights too stomach-turning for even the bravest British boy to contemplate, and the soppy way Jack and my sister ran to cuddle and kiss each other is one of ’em.” That is my favorite part because I identify with Arthur (I don’t like soppy scenes in movies) and also because I enjoy humor (the picture shows Myrtle and Jack hugging and Arthur covering his eyes but peeking out just a little). If you read this book, I hope you like it as much as I did! Elena Chalfin Milin, 11New York, New York
