Kites of all colors speckled the sky, like paint splatters on a canvas Hugh gazed happily at his creation. Yes. He’d done it! “Leah, come look at this!” he called, holding the kite for his nine-year-old sister to see. Leah gasped out loud. “Whoa!” she breathed, admiring his handiwork. Her eyes traced over the delicate needlework on the smooth fabric. “Pretty cool, huh?” “Yeah…” She leant out an arm to touch it. “Don’t touch!” Hugh quickly whisked the kite up above her head and safely out of reach. “I like those flaps over there. What are they for?” “They’re to give it added lift,” he said proudly. “You’re going to win for sure this year! You’ll even beat Maude Lesley!” Leah cried, dancing around merrily. The thought of beating Maude Lesley at long last made his head spin with happiness. His kites had always come second to hers in Kite Fest. But not this year! No, he would win for sure. Kites were his favorite hobby. Yet somehow, despite his intense effort, Maude’s kites always seemed to be better. * * * “Have you seen Maude’s?” stuttered John. “No, but I don’t need to. My kite is far better than hers, John.” John shrugged uneasily. “I don’t know…” “Well I do,” Hugh confirmed resolutely. A thought suddenly sprung into John’s head. Yes, this would make Hugh see sense. “Do you want to go see it? If you stand on tiptoe and peer over her garden wall you can see it. It wouldn’t be cheating… just comparing. Then you’d know for sure how unbeatable it is.” Hugh was best friends with John, yet he couldn’t believe how narrow-minded John was being. Shrugging, he followed John over to Maude’s house. Feeling like a burglar, Hugh stood on tiptoe and peered over the wall, not knowing what to expect. He did not expect what he saw. Maude was crying, her tiny frame shaking uncontrollably. “It’s… not… fair!” she managed between hearty sobs. “It took… me a whole year… to make!” Her mum was desperately trying to calm her down. “Maude, sweetheart, it’s only a…” “A whole year!” she wailed. Her trademark plum-blue eyes were filled with tears. “I don’t understand where it could have gone! We’ve searched all along the riverbank yet my kite’s not there!” Hugh backed away from the wall in shock. He knew that he should be feeling sorry for Maude, yet he couldn’t help feeling smug. This was great! With Maude Lesley out of the competition he was sure to win! * * * “Thank you. Oh, it’s heavy. Yes. Talented? You insist I’m a talented kite flyer? And maker?” Hugh pretended, talking to his chocolate Labrador, Moochy. Moochy showed his agreement by cocking his head playfully to one side. Hugh could just imagine the large golden trophy, glistening magnificently in the sun. The river was a favorite dog-walking location for Hugh, and the twilight turned the normally hectic and joyful river very mysterious and beautiful. Before Hugh could do anything about it, Moochy was tugging hard on the lead. Hugh tried to yank him back, but a fully grown labrador is a lot stronger than a skinny eleven-year-old, so, much to Hugh’s dismay, Moochy ran wild. Sighing frustratedly, Hugh sped after the happy dog and found him in some tall reeds, sniffing at the ground quizzically. Yanking on his collar, he spat, “Bad boy, Moochy! Come on. We’ve got to go home. I said come on, Mooch!” Moochy was resistant and stayed, with his bottom planted firmly on the ground. Mumbling bitterly, Hugh got down onto his hands and knees and parted the waving reeds. His stomach seemed to drop. It was Maude‘s kite. * * * Hugh broke into a run, eager to return home. Moochy thought this all a splendid game, so he bounded along happily. Why should he return the kite? After all, it wasn’t as if Maude had never won before. Yes, if he kept it he would be doing a greater good, allowing other participants the chance to take home the trophy. It was unfair, unjust that she won every year. Hugh’s eyes traced over the magnificent kite. It was shaped like a traditional Chinese dragon, with a large open mouth and sharp white teeth. Maude need never know it had been found. Hugh might just be able to copy some of the design elements. He didn’t even really care about the copying, just so long as he won, and not Maude. It was all down to him whether or not Maude would win. He had arrived home and slipped inside noiselessly, and sprinted up to his bedroom. Stowing the kite under the bed, he made a quick decision. He would keep the kite, not return it. He had waited a long time for the title of Kite Champion, and this year it would go to him. “Hugh? Dinner!” called his mother. Feeling content, Hugh made his way downstairs and into the dining room, where a delicious meal of roast chicken was awaiting him. He sat down and sunk his fork into the tender meat. As it travelled down his throat, it stayed in a lump. His mouth had gone dry, and suddenly he didn’t feel hungry in the slightest. Only guilty. He took a gulp of water and blinked twice. Don’t be an idiot, Hugh, he thought. You’re doing the right thing, so why are you feeling guilty? * * * “And the winner of the 2012 Kite Fest goes to… Hugh Willows!” Hugh raced to the podium, where he accepted the trophy joyously. His eyes scanned the audience. Hugh saw a small child curled up in a ball and sobbing broken-heartedly in the distance. The child’s head rose and he saw who it was. Maude. Suddenly the floor gave way and he was hurtling through a fiery tunnel, until he dissolved into a screaming nothingness. Hugh’s eyes snapped open. Just a dream, he thought emptily. Just a dream. He looked
September/October 2013
Inhaling the Scent of the Wind
The scent of apples whispers through the air Reminding me of our lazy days in the orchard Lying in a bed of violet morning glories Inhaling the scent of the wind Remember the day we held a butterfly funeral in grandma’s backyard? You found it in the dirt beneath the bougainvillea bush With only one fiery wing That fluttered into silence We talked about everything and nothing By flashlight under pink and purple sheets Biscuit asleep between us, tail curled in comfort You stopped coming around When you turned thirteen The two years between us Suddenly yawned into a black abyss You became a teenager More interested in texting than watching hummingbirds fly Boy talk, than watching the water dance in the fountain And now when we meet We are strangers Sydney Pardo, 13Irvine, California
The King of San Marino
By Elizabeth Surman Scenario Number One: I’m not sure if the directions on my math homework mean one thing or another. Solution: Go to Dad. Scenario Number Two: I woke up late and can’t walk to school today. Solution: Ask Dad to drive me. Scenario Number Three: Mom hasn’t gotten back from grocery shopping but I’m hungry!!! What do I do? You guessed it! I’ll go to my dad and ask him to help me create a snack from ingredients in the pantry. Dad does so many things for me and here’s my chance to thank him for his kind deeds. First things first: He’s not a quiet man. When he comes home after work and his feet slap against the tile, making a sound as loud as a wild bear’s roar, the house shudders as if it anticipates the noise that will follow his arrival. To the annoyance of my mom and two sisters, he hums constantly, like the hummingbirds that occasionally visit our yard. At my bedtime, Daddy enthusiastically barges into my room to give me a cuddle and say goodnight. To awaken me, he increases the volume on his music and sometimes tickles me. Because of this, we love him dearly. Do you need to be cheered up? Go to my dad! His humor will make you laugh so hard it hurts. Not only does my dad tell jokes and puns, he appreciates and watches comedies. He jokes when he trips or stubs his toe (which is very often). He even wrote a book declaring himself the “King of San Marino,” the small town where we live. One of his favorite comedy shows is The Three Stooges. We go to a Three Stooges convention together every year. He loves to recall the funniest lines from different episodes and it makes me giggle. Elizabeth and her dad However, my dad is very serious and devoted to his work. Sometimes, Dad stays at his office late at night, working for my family. Because of this, I think my dad makes an amazing lawyer. Have you ever tasted a mouthful of heavenly French toast that has been prepared on the barbecue? This is the result of a creative experiment by my father. On Sunday afternoons, you might find the two of us side-by-side in the kitchen, inventing creative meals with ingredients you wouldn’t typically find in the same dish. Our best products may end up on the table that night for dinner. Now you know almost everything about my dad except his appearance. Would you recognize him on the street if I told you that: a) Dad has curly black hair that frames his head like the fur on his pet poodle, Pandora, who he had when he was a boy; b) his hazel eyes twinkle; they are the sun bathing me in their golden rays; and c) he has a rather large nose, although he claims (in vain) that it is an optical illusion? No matter what he looks like, I love my goofy, clumsy daddy as much as I love writing. Elizabeth Surman, 10San Marino, California
