The Wright 3, by Blue Balliett; Scholastic Press: New York, 2006; $16.99 The second mystery in a trilogy comprising Chasing Vermeer and The Calder Game, The Wright 3 stars two familiar detectives, twelve-year-olds Calder and Petra, along with a new character, Calder’s old friend, Tommy. It is the end of the school year and the trio, calling themselves the Wright 3, attempt to finish the mission started by their teacher, Ms. Hussey, and their sixth-grade class: saving the Robie House—an actual house in Hyde Park, Chicago, designed by famous architect Frank Lloyd Wright—from being divided up and donated to four different museums. The novel is thrilling, even a bit scary at times. A mason hired to take down the house is “shaken off” the roof. There are unexplained shadows and voices. The Wright 3 almost get killed! Blue Balliet keeps you on the edge of your seat in this captivating mystery packed with action and wit. I liked The Wright 3 for three main reasons: first, its clever and playful mathematical design based on geometry, pentominoes, and Fibonacci numbers; second, its sharp portrayal of characters and their complex relationships; third, its inspirational plot, as it shows that individuals can make a difference—even if they are kids! I liked the way The Wright 3 includes math, which the team uses to solve the mystery and even escape death. Calder, as in Chasing Vermeer, has a set of pentominoes, mathematical tools that come in twelve different shapes. He uses them to create the Wright Sandwich Code, which is challenging but fun to figure out. The Wright 3 use the code to communicate when in danger, making an escape plan. Another math-related clue is the Fibonacci numbers, a number sequence in which the next number is the sum of the last two numbers. The Wright 3 uses Fibonacci numbers in a fun, challenging way, ranging from a puzzle in the artwork to the clue that could save the Robie House. The interactions and problems of the characters in The Wright 3 are similar to the ones my friends and I sometimes experience. For example, Petra and Tommy often seem to compete for the “honor” of being Calder’s best friend, making it hard for them to be close and trusting friends. Mostly, my friends and I get along well. But sometimes we get caught up in uneasy triangles and have to work out some tensions before we can all have fun. As friends are becoming more important in my life, reading about the trio’s friendship issues made me feel relieved that my friends and I are not the only ones experiencing these difficulties. I can relate to Ms. Hussey’s class’s effort to save the Robie House through my school’s effort to stop overcrowding. Because of the growth of my school’s population, we were in danger of losing the science lab, the art room, the computer lab, and the library. We put posters all over the neighborhood. Parents and students participated in many demonstrations saying “No!” to overcrowding. In the end, the City provided us with additional room in an annex. The power to make a change is in Ms. Hussey’s class and my community, and I find that inspiring. Julian Tütüncü-Macías, 10New York, New York
September/October 2009
The Sanctuary That Cured Me
“You have two unheard messages. First unheard message.” The fake, calm voice of the answering machine seems to ring through my ears. I can feel my excited heart pumping blood to every single part of my body. “Hi, this is Kerry from the Golden Mountain Theater Company with a message for Molly.” Anticipation radiates through me like the sun on the Sahara Desert. “I just wanted to let her know that, unfortunately, we do not have a part for her in our production.” I am vaguely aware of my mother’s quick gasp as the rest of the message slips away from my consciousness. The air in the room begins to feel hot and stuffy. I have to get out. Numbly, I pull open the door and escape into the cool October day. Frantically, I start to run down the narrow path, fleeing to the safety of nature. It leads to a small creek that flows beyond our field. The land I know so well feels cold beneath my bare feet and the steady rhythm of their steps clashes with my uneven breathing. The tall, golden grass that comes in the fall lashes at my bare legs and creates small, red scratches on them. If I wasn’t so confused, so mentally lost and numb, I might have felt it and cared. I notice the utter calm and stillness the creek, animals, and the trees create I notice the rhythm of my steps gets slower as I approach the trickling stream. The smell is different down here, like fresh rain and autumn leaves that have begun to fall. I sit down on an old stump, green with moss and lichen, and look down at the calm water of the brook I visit so often. It looks different today, everything does. I stare numbly at the cold, clear water and try to summon the energy to think. The phone message, the Golden Mountain Theater Company; I didn’t get the part I wanted in their production. It was mine! How could this be? Right now, it seems as if that part is my whole life, and it got taken away by one quick phone call. It is drizzling slightly and the cold, delicate tears from the sky mix with my salty ones and make small, perfect ripples in the glass-like water. I am suddenly aware of every sound: a songbird’s soft call in the aspen tree above me, the cold, October wind slyly wrapping itself around the young, slender trees. The chilly breeze reaches me and sends a shiver down my spine despite the hot, boiling feeling inside of me. I notice the utter calm and stillness the creek, animals, and the trees create. It soaks into my skin, seeping deeper and deeper inside of me and finally brings my agitated soul to a stop, letting the calm trickle in, and the pain leak out. A patch of sunlight filters through the leafy, multicolored canopy above me and brings glowing sunshine to me, warming my heart, body, and soul. I stand up and take a last look at the sanctuary that cured me. Turning around, I make my way up to the warm, friendly house that I call home. Pulling open the slider door, the sweet, cozy scent of hot cocoa fills my nose, and I know I’ll be all right. Iona Swift, 12Cedar Ridge, California Hero Klimek-Brooks, 13Tacoma, Washington
Building the Pyramids
The smell of hot bread rose to Lomea’s nostrils as she removed a freshly baked loaf from the small fire. She handed it to her younger sister, Hemufe, who in turn gave it to the last worker waiting for his lunch. She fell back onto her mat with a sigh. The desert heat that the twelve-year-old had ignored while serving lunch slowly crept up. Her hand searched for the water skin, but to her dismay she found it empty. She grabbed the skin and ran to the well in the middle of the makeshift village. She looked to her left and saw the thousands of men finishing their lunches ready to continue work on what the great pharaoh Cheops claimed would be the largest pyramid in Egypt. She filled the skin and took a long drink. She made her way back to her house to help with the cleaning. When she reached the house, she found the cleaning almost done and her other, older (by four years, but certainly not wiser) sister, Noch, looking very annoyed. “Where have you been, Lomea?” she half-yelled in Lomea’s face. “Our parents left me in charge while they travel so I make the rules! Moreover, do you know what those rules include? You not wandering off like some nomad, that’s what those rules include!” She stopped for a long breath. “And what’s more…” Lomea interrupted, having heard this speech before. “I know, I know, and you would sell me to the next camel merchant that came within twenty miles if Mother and Father would allow.” Lomea had no tolerance for her sister at that moment, for she had just gained the courage to get a closer look at the pyramid as soon as lunch was over. Unfortunately, her sister was even less tolerant than she was. Noch had her finish the cleaning, do the laundry, make lunch, and go to town to buy something for dinner. What she saw brought her to an immediate standstill and robbed her of every ounce of her breath Lomea ran out the door as soon as she was done with her chores. She raced across the hot, gritty sand just as the sun began to set. As she ran she looked up, and what she saw brought her to an immediate standstill and robbed her of every ounce of her breath. It was the pyramid, majestically rising, half-finished, out of the sand against the setting sun. She rubbed dust out of her eyes. She paused to take in the new and exciting sights and smells. She saw the rock ramps set against the pyramids for the transportation of the stone blocks. Lomea was startled, but awed and inspired, by the caw of the lone vulture circling above her head. Suddenly, she heard the sound of small feet fast approaching. She turned around and saw her younger sister, Hemufe, coming towards her with open arms. “Lomea! Lomea!” the four-year-old squealed excitedly. “I just fell down a dune but I got up, and I didn’t cry!” the little girl yelled triumphantly. “Good, good,” Lomea said distractedly, thinking of how it wasn’t fair that girls couldn’t take part in building such a marvelous wonder. She felt sweat trickling down her forehead and her lips cracking in the heat. She heard the grinding of the stone blocks against the ramps. Lomea knew that building the pyramid, listening to the overseer yelling every day, and experiencing the aching hands from pulling the stones up the pyramids with ropes would be extremely tiring and difficult. She also believed it would be worth it. It would be amazing if you could look at the beautiful wonder, what would surely be the pride of all of Egypt, and know that you had taken part in making it a reality! Lomea picked up her little sister and showed her the beauty of it all. “See,” Lomea sighed dreamily “this is where the pharaoh will be buried when he passes on to the afterlife. See how it rises up, out of the desolate desert to rule the sands, just as Pharaoh rules the people? Even though the tomb of the pharaoh is not yet completed, is the structure not the most wonderful thing you have ever seen? Is it not amazing how something in the middle of the desert, made out of common stone, can be more majestic than the graceful lioness? Even more remarkable is that I had never seen the beauty in it before. Father had always…” The mention of her father, a farmer who had been called to Thebes, the capital of Egypt, to help harvest crops, made her stop in mid-sentence and gave her a lump in her throat. Her mother had gone as well, leaving her and her sisters home alone. Lomea’s father had not wanted this. He believed they were not old enough to take care of themselves, but Noch had insisted that she was almost an adult and could take care of the household. They had been gone for three months now and Lomea wished they had never left. She set her sister down and felt tears gently falling down her face. She suddenly felt strong, sturdy arms around her waist. “Why do you cry, little one?” She heard a deep, gentle voice coming from behind her. She quickly turned around and her eyes met a sight grander than the pyramid itself. Her mother and father, home at last! Timmi Ruth Kline, 11Jones, Oklahoma Megan Snide, 13Dublin, Ohio
