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quartet
Volume 1 Issue 4
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We dedicate this issue of quartet to our families, teachers, and to the fish that we all had
that have moved on to the great wide sea.
To President Barack Obama, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, John Green, Helen Keller, and J.R.
Tolkien for inspiring us.
STAFF
Editors–in-Chief
Rachel Korosi, Hannah Laffer, Sonja Cherry-Paul
Managing Editor
Jared Amster, Hannah Laffer
Layout Editor
Wyatt Sibilia
Website Coordinator
Tyler Walsh
Faculty-in–Chief
Sonja Cherry-Paul
Digital-Media & Web Director
Christopher Keogh
Cover Designer
Ivy Mininger (front)
Celebration Coordinators
Ivy Mininger
Magazine Distributors
Danny Campbell, Jacob Rauhut, Ben Zion
Cole Marron (back)
CONTRIBUTORS
Jared Amster
Jacob Rauhut
Daniel Campbell
Tia Rockland
Maria Fugel
Alexandra Rotmil-Eser
Micah Kerness
Livia Schnorr
Rachel Korosi
Wyatt Sibilia
Hannah Laffer
Berkeley Steinhauer
Daniel Leddy
Tyler Walsh
Sean Leyden
Ben Zion
Cole Marron
Ivy Mininger
Elizabeth Olsen
Emily Penner
I Can, I Will, I Did by Wyatt Sibilia
“The smell of
freshly cut
grass looms
around the
training ground
as we prepare
to board the
bus.”
Page 3
I can’t believe this
is happening. Today is
the day. I cannot make a
mistake. Today is my
debut game for Atletico
Madrid. I’m told a scout
came to watch one of
my games with the
Blackburn Rovers U19
academy team and that
he thought I had great
potential, so he told the
Atletico Madrid head
coach to sign me. One
day a schoolboy struggling to make the starting 11 for his high
school team, the next
day a young man prepared to kickoff for one
of the biggest teams in
Spain. Today, on my debut, I will play against
Granada, representing
Atletico Madrid, with the
number 17 on my back. I
cannot stress my excitement, but I know I must
remain focused.
I give my mum
one last hug before I go.
“Good luck,” she says
and tustles my dirty
blonde hair. I get in my
car and drive to the
team training facility
where the bus that will
pick us up is. The
smooth leather seat
comforts my sore
back. When I get there I
see I am one of the first
players there. I have already met all of the players in the past weeks of
training, but I am still always ecstatic to be
around them. The air
is humid; a dark grey
cloud lurks over the
sky foreshadowing
rain. I get out of my
car and Diego Simeone is there to greet
me. “Bienvenido,” he
exclaims! “Muchas
gracias por esta oportunidad,” I reply.
“You’re very welcome,” Diego answers. The smell of
freshly cut grass
looms around the
training ground as we
prepare to board the
bus. I get on the bus
and head towards the
back. As I’m walking
Antoine Griezmann
calls me over and
says, “Sit here.”
Gratefully I reply, “Yes
of course!” It’s a great
ride over. Antoine and
I have a good conversation about football.
When we arrive
at the field we all head
into the locker room.
The smell of sweat
hovers in the cool air. I
take a look around the
room and see my red
and white uniform sitting on the bench folded nicely. Cleats,
socks, shorts, and
shirt. I take a peek at
everyone else out of
the corner of my eye
and see that I am the
first one ready. I bite
my nails as I repeat-
Volume 1 Issue 4
edly try to straighten
out my jersey. I realize that everyone can
see that I am nervous
when Moya, our goalkeeper, walks up to
me. He is now
dressed in his navy
blue, long-sleeve
keeper jersey. ¨Calm
down buddy,¨ he reminds me, ¨Everyone
is nervous on their
first day, but you have
to stay calm and focused.¨ I understand
what he is trying to
say, but it is hard for
me not to be eager
and nervous when I
know that we need to
win this game or the
title of ¨Defending
Champions¨ might
just slip away from us.
Diego Simeone gives
us a pep talk about
our strategies for this
game and how it is a
must win. He tells us
the starting lineup,
and as I was previously told, I will be
starting striker alongside Griezmann. As
the two teams walk
out onto the moist,
slippery pitch, the
fans clap.
¨ATLETICO! ATLETICO,¨ the home fans
chant. The Vicente
Calderon is widely
known as one of the
best stadiums when it
comes to the atmosphere.
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I Can, I Will, I Did (continued)
The home fans will chant all
game long and support Atletico Madrid until the very
end. As we line up to sing
the national anthem of
Spain, the Atletico Madrid
fans dance and jump about.
All you can see when you
look around the stadium is
the mic of red and white that
fills the Vicente Calderon
every home game. After the
anthem we shake hands and
run onto our side and get into our positions. This is it, I
think to myself, I made it.
¨TWEEEET,¨ The loud sound
of the referee's whistle rings
in my ears. The game is underway!
First Half
The pitch is very slippery and I struggle to keep
my balance. The dark clouds
above me suggest that the
pouring rain will not stop and
will only proceed to get
worse. I recall looking at the
weather before I left and saying, ¨Not ideal conditions for
a football match.¨ I shake my
head, not ideal conditions
was right.
It is not a great start
as we go 1-0 down within the
first ten minutes due to a
careless error by our defense. The fans look disappointed but continue cheering us on nonetheless. Fifteen slow minutes later, we
equalize! A cross comes in
from the right and I meet it
with my head, I feel the wet
ball slide over my hair as
I flick it on to Griezmann
for a tap in. He makes no
mistake and easily puts
the ball in the back of the
net. The crowd roars with
joy! The team is as
pleased as the crowd,
and we all gather around
the very calm, focused
Griezmann. He knows
what we have to do. It is
do or die.
The remaining 20
minutes of the half go by
very leisurely. We create
many chances and dominate the game, but still
fail to score. The disappointment is tangible as it
seems to spread throughout the stadium. I look
down at my once white
pants that are now
stained brown-green by
the field of the Vicente
Calderon. I glance at the
clock. 45:00. Any minute
now, I think to myself.
Less than a moment later
I hear the two long whistles from the referee as
he points to half field.
The crowd thins as fans
go to get food for the 15
minute break. We all
head into the locker
rooms, for half time, let
down. I shake my head.
This was not what I wanted.
Diego Simeone's
talk is quick. He mainly
wants us to figure it out
for ourselves. He makes
one substitution at half
time swapping the injured Koke for Saul.
Then the second half
is underway.
Second Half
Once again we
let up a goal in the
first 10 minutes of this
half. All of us have our
heads down. The fans
cheers are silenced
momentarily, but then
before you know it,
the energetic crowd
that we usually see is
back. It's still anyone's
game, but nonetheless it is a nail biting
experience for the
crowd. We dominate
the rest of the game
and they don’t get another shot. I hit the
crossbar from 25
yards out and Saul,
the substitute, misses
an easy chance from
close range. I look at
the clock. It’s the 90th
minute. We’re into
stoppage time. I look
over at the fourth official. The red number
on his board reads 6.
Just 6. 6 added
minutes. 6 minutes to
turn this game
around. 6 minutes to
leave my mark. I think
of my idol Fernando
Torres and remember
some of the goals he
scored in stoppage
time when his team
needed him most. I
think to myself, I can
do it. I can do it. I will
do it.
“Just 6. 6
added minutes.
6 minutes to
turn this game
around. 6
minutes to
leave my
mark.”
Page 4
I Can, I Will, I Did (continued)
I receive a pass from
Griezmann on the far right
hand side about 45 yards
from the goal. I will do it. I
rush forward and beat one
defender with a simple body
feint. As the next defender
approaches me I begin a
brilliant display of skill and
put it through his legs.
¨OLE,¨ I hear the crowd roar!
I make the next defender
falls as I shift from side to
side with him trying to stay
balanced. Now only the
keeper stands in my way. I
take a fake shot and the
keeper dives thinking I have
shot. I touch the ball around
him and tap into an empty
net. I am surrounded by my
teammates. I feel like a new
kid in school, surrounded by
all his new classmates. I run
over to the crowd and get
them cheering. I look at the
clock. It is the 93rd minute.
Three minutes left. I remember coaches words. ¨This is
a must win game. Who will
be the hero?¨ The other
team kicks off and Jesus
Gamez pressures the opponents immediately and wins
the ball. He passes back
and we posses the ball,
waiting for a chance to attack. Then Saul calls for the
ball out wide, and Godin
plays him a perfect pass into
space. Saul runs it down the
right hand flank. I will do it.
The cross
comes
in and it
Caption
describing
picture
or
appears as if it is going begraphic.
hind me,
but I will not let it.
Page 5
I think back to my first
competitive match
when I was 13. I
scored a hattrick that
game. One of my
goals was absolutely
beautiful, and one of
my favorites that I’ve
scored to this day! The
ball had been crossed
in by a corner and I
did a spectacular acrobatic kick and scored.
It was a beautiful goal
and as I thought back
on it just now I got an
idea.
I turn around
and attempt an overhead kick. I spin my
head and look at the
ball. It seems as if the
world stands still as it
floats toward the goal.
Then I hear it. That
familiar ¨swoosh¨
sound of the ball hitting the back of the
net. The crowd roars
with delight! I am
swarmed by my teammates. I did it. I did it, I
did it, I did it! I did it!!! I
look at the clock once
more. It reads 95
minutes and 55 seconds. I cannot believe
it. The ref blows the
final three whistles!
That's game over!
We've done it!
Volume 1 Issue 4
The crowd is
cheering because they
know that with this win
Atletico Madrid have
clinched the league title!
We are champions of La
Liga! The taste of victory
floods the stadium as we
lift the trophy. I've never
had a better feeling than
grasping those two metal handles and lifting the
trophy high into the air. I
grab the trophy and as I
look it I see the reflection of a winner. While I
walk off the field the
crowd is cheering my
name. With a smile on
my face I think to myself.
I did it. I knew I would. A
cameraman approaches
me and I know there is
only one thing to do. I
look straight into the
camera filled with joy
and wink. I did it.
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Beautiful Night by Hannah Laffer
to be a child, once more by Ivy Miniger
The sun shines bright on another day full of
endless perfections.
Children find such joy in all things.
Another day carries its wonders across a deep blue sky
full of white fluffy marshmallows.
Each marshmallow contains a shape.
and as admiration takes place
shapes are called out.
The wind blows wisps of hair
sending them into a wild mess
as a full grin shows the happiness that must be felt.
Rolling in the grass,
laughter fills the world
and it’s as if
just for a second
the world sends a rush over all people
Their one wish,
to be a child, once more
Page 6
Volume 1 Issue 4
The Scream by Alexandra Rotmil—Eser
“Here I must
remain until I
am burned in a
raging fire no
longer to be
admired, but
free from my
pose.”
Page 7
Every day I stand here. My
legs forever growing tired. My
arms numb from pain. My voice is
raspy. My stomach is empty and it
will never be full. There is no relief
from this stance. Here I must remain until I am burned in a raging
fire no longer to be admired, but
free from my pose.
The bridge on which I stand
is my friend. I want to bend down
and pat it for it, too has a painful
pose. It must keep itself from collapsing into the water, and it must
hold me up. I yearn for a drink and
a dip in the water below me. It
tempts me with sounds of rushing,
gushing water, driving me insane,
though no movement can be
made. There are sounds of wind,
and yet I feel no breeze. Oh, how I
grow tired.
I wish I could say something instead of screaming, though
my scream grows weaker every
second. I wish I could tell the canvas that I am sorry for pressing up
against it day and night, but I cannot move. I wish for relief.
I can look across the floor
to see other paintings who can
swim in a cool river, or delicately
dip their toes in a small stream. An
expression of happiness is displayed upon their oil pastel faces,
but I know only too well the pain
they feel. They stare right at me,
their sorrowful eyes delving deep
down inside and clutching my
heart and making me wish even
more that I had just a few seconds
to stretch and close my dry mouth.
Across the floor from me
there is yet another delightful look-
ing painting in which a smiling
family sits in their dining-room with
a scrumptious looking meal
stretched from one end of the table to the other. I feel I should be
drooling, but my mouth is too dry.
The other day I saw a large
painting being carried through the
room I hang in. Its covering
slipped off as those who carried it
tripped. I caught a glimpse of the
painting before the covering was
placed upon the beautiful framework once again. This was not like
the paintings in the room I am in;
this one was sad. It truly was painful to look into the eyes of a young
maiden weeping, her tears dropping onto the head of her dead
love. I think I should be grateful for
not having to cry over a loved one
all my life, though I still detest my
pose.
At 9 o'clock, sharp, this
place seems to become brighter
and new faces arrive to stare at
me in awe; their big noses nearly
touching me, and their hot breaths
smell of food that I can only dream
of trying. I don't know why they
look at me the way they do. Nor do
I know why nearly every one of
them holds a small box that flashes a bright light in my sore eyes. I
want to speak to them. I want
them to say hello to me, even if I
can't answer back. I want them to
tell me about their world. I wish
they could teach me something,
for all I know is this stance in this
life. I ask from anyone or anything
who can read my mind, merely for
a sitting pose.
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Page 8
The Scream by Alexandra Rotmil-Eser
Volume 1 Issue 4
A Match Made by Cole Marron
I am hoping that’s not the guy. He looks like a total creep. He doesn’t look like the
guy in the profile I saw online. This guy has a scruffy beard and a scar on the side of
his face. He calls out my name, and now I’m nervous. Not like butterflies, but because
he creeps me out. We’re in the fanciest restaurant in California, and he’s wearing
jeans and a tee-shirt. Here I am in my nicest dress and heels and he is wearing
clothes that somebody would wear to a sports bar. I sit down. This is going to be a
long night.
I see her from across the room. She’s stunning. I can’t believe she’s my date.
She looks exactly like the girl I saw in her profile, so I knew she wasn’t one of those
people that lied just to go out on a date. Our eyes meet and it feels like I fall in love
for the first time. I never felt that way in my life. I think she’s a bit shy, but still, we
have great chemistry. I pull her chair out for her to sit. This is going to be a great
night.
*
He seems so desperate and acts overly nice. I am trying to show that I not interested, but he can’t read the signals. I want to say straight to his face that this isn’t
going to work, but that is not the girl my father raised. So I go along with the date.
He asks many questions like do I have kids and have I been previously married. Then
his questions start getting awkward like how do I think the date is going and if I like
him. I lie and say I liked him and that the date is going well, but I really, really, want
to run right out of there. Just when I think that this could get any worse he spills his
wine all over my food. I am infuriated. This is an expensive dish and with the way
things are going he’ll probably be the type to expect me to pay for my meal. This
date is disastrous. I start asking questions about him too, just to pass the time. I ask
him where he lives and he says with his mother. He says it like he is proud, too. The
people sitting at the table next ours overhears this and give us funny looks. I’m mortified! On a scale from 1 to 10 on this date it would score a -6. I can’t tell how he
thinks this date is going. He ran out of questions and now we sit in an awkward silence for about 20 minutes. I have no idea what to say after this. But somehow, I still
have to get through the rest of the date.
I act like a gentleman, asking questions and starting the conversation. She
seems very interested, so I continue this. I ask about kids and previous marriages because I want to drop hints about the type of relationship I like. This date is going
great! But I want to hear it from her. So I ask her how she thinks the date is going
and if she’s interested in me. I already knew the answer, but it’s always good to
check. I don’t think that this date could get any better. I accidentally spill my wine on
her food, but she doesn’t seem mad at all. The meals are very expensive, but I don’t
mind paying for dinner. This is the best date I have ever been on. She asks me where
I live and I explain that I live with my parents. I’m pretty shy about this so I try to
say it as quiet as possible so no one around us hears. This date is easily a 10. I know
this is the girl for me. We spend a good 20 minutes gazing into each others eyes. I
can see that we both hope this night will never end.
**
Page 9
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A Match Made by Cole Marron
We finish up our dessert and are getting our coats on. When we walk outside I
see that he had a valet pick up his car and it’s a Lamborghini, a yellow Gallardo! I
can’t believe my eyes. He asks if I want to go for a ride to his house and I think that
if he has a car like this his parents must have money. So I take up his offer. We pull
up to a Beverly Hills mansion and it is even more surprising than when I saw his car.
It is beautiful. It has a fountain in front and an infinity pool in the back. “This is my
parents house,” he says. We walk in, and immediately we are greeted by a butler.
He offers us a drink. I shyly respond no. He says yes and asks for a margarita. He
walks away to get the drink. After spending most of the night trying to figure out
how to end this disastrous date, I’ve had a change of heart. He’s really not that bad.
This night is turning out to be much better!
We leave the restaurant and the valet pulls my car up. I offer her a ride to my
place and she said yes. When we arrive, Henderson, the butler, offers a drink and
she politely responds no, but I ask for a margarita. He walks away to get my drink
and we start talking again. The night is even better than I thought. Now it’s just us!
****
Childhood by Berkeley Steinhauer
wake early every day to a ringing alarm
sit in chair for six hours
go home to a list, a list of chores
water the plants,
do the dishes,
dust the living room,
do the laundry,
cook dinner,
when all is done, and clean,
complete homework from the evil person they call “teacher”
after finishing schoolwork,
clean up dinner,
do the dishes, again
prepare for another day of misery, also called childhood
Page 10
The Stages of Not Sleeping by Lizzie Olsen
Volume 1 Issue 4
10:00 pmI tried to go to bed at a good time, so I would not be practically dead in the morning. Sleep did not
come right away, as usual, so I read my book for a while.
10:30 pmMy book was so sad I started crying. I had to get up and get the extra soft, two-ply tissues because one-ply was not enough for this. While I was reading, I moved into some uncomfortable positions.
My long brown hair kept getting in the way of everything ,so I tied it back into a brown knot.
11:00 pmI finished my book and I did not have anything else to read. I open up my laptop. Online there is a
world of stuff to laugh or cry at. After a while of random browsing and stalking I laughed so hard at a
cheesy joke that I woke up my sister in the room next door.
“What are you doing in here? I’m trying to sleep,” Caitlin hissed softly, in a way that told that she
did not want to talk at all.
“Knock knock,” I replied excitedly anyway. I thought this joke was really funny, maybe more than I
should have. She glared at me for few moments and then replied, “I’m going back to bed, keep it down.”
She walked out of the room and closed the door behind leaving me in the moonlit darkness that is my
room.
11:30 pmI was still on my laptop although I thought for sure I was now going insane. This part of my night
was about 60% funny jokes and 40% sad stuff found off the internet. I started laughing and crying and
falling apart all at once. Also, I was still thinking about my book. During this time I used the rest of the box
of tissues.
I decided to get a snack. I spent about 10 minutes trying to make popcorn and getting some water
in the dark because at night the light is way too painful and burning. Speaking of painful and burning, the
bag of popcorn was so hot when it came out of the microwave I burnt my hand and had to ice it. I stuck
my hand, the one I did not burn, into the cabinet randomly to find the salt. Instead of finding the salt I
knocked over a pack of paper plates. I could not find the salt and just gave up and ate the flavorless popcorn.
1:00 amI finished my popcorn and my laptop died. The ice from my hand melted and made my bed slightly
wet and cold. The popcorn was good, but I really wished there was salt on it. I still wasn’t tired, so I decided to read my old picture books. I turned on my book light, which instantly blinded me as my eyes had
fully adjusted to the dark. It felt like a one second shot of pain going through my eyes, which made me
then fall out of bed.
2:00 amI lay in my bed, hopelessly staring at the clock; the second hand continuously moving. Back and
forth and back and forth. I was wide awake, yet tired. I tried counting sheep. One sheep, two sheep …
one-hundred white, fluffy sheep that are not helping me sleep-- AT ALL.
The problem was I could not get comfortable. My room felt like a pot of stew. I got up and turned
on my fan. The fan brought in a nice, cool spring breeze but also caused another problem. It got too cold,
but with a blanket on me I was too hot. I finally decided on the position of one arm and leg in the blankets
and one arm and leg out while the blanket covered my body. This way half my body was drowning in
sweat and half my body was freezing.
Page 11
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The Stages of Not Sleeping (continued)
3:00 amThis is when I started questioning the universe and my existence. I also started questioning if I
did my homework or not and realized I didn’t. After doing thirty minutes of mind-bending math problems
that I hardly understood, I was relieved to be finished. I went back to questioning the universe and everything in it. I also really needed to pee, but how could I do that without waking everyone in the house up. I
decided to hold it in.
4:00 amThe need to pee became unbearable. My bladder was suffering and I swear it would have exploded. I decided to pee. Pathetically and softly, I waddled the ten feet to the nearest bathroom. After I
let it all out, as quiet as I could, I did not flush so my family would not wake up due to the noise.
Back in my room, I started laughing and laughing at EVERYTHING. Just pure laughter but nothing was
really funny. The thing that got me the most was my pillow falling off the bed. That made me laugh for
about ten minutes straight. The way it looked just plopped down was amusing to me.
5:00 amI finally fell asleep after hours of terrible insomnia. The war to sleep was over.
8:30 amMy alarm clock blared! I had to get up and get to swim practice. Ugh.
Nighttime Bedroom by Lizzie Olsen
Page 12
Volume 1 Issue 4
Growing Up by Maria Fugel
Here I am just sitting here. That’s what I do now. I wake up and watch the kids
get ready. But once they leave I am alone in the dark. I just sit and sit and wait until
they get home and then I sit and watch them some more. Today Riley actually picked
me up, but then she just threw me on the ground. And it hurt. She doesn’t understand
that I have feelings. How come she can’t stop texting for five minutes and play with
me? Also, today she asked her mom if she could get rid of me. Thank God her mom
said no. They say that you can never grow out of your childhood stuffed animals.
When she was younger, Riley, used to play with me, she would take me everywhere,
to the park, to her friends houses. But now Riley spends all of her time on the computer or texting her friends.
***
Uggh. I hate that stupid little toy in my room. It’s pink and fuzzy, I hate the color
pink. Stuffed animals are so stupid. I just want to text and go on the computer without
having to look at that thing. I don’t understand why it is so important to my mom that I
keep it.
“Mom,” I called while running down the stairs.
“Yes,” she answered.
“Why do you make me keep that stuffed animal I hate it so much?” I continued,
“It’s a toy I am a teenager now. I don’t want any more toys. Toys are stupid.”
“You have to keep it. Don’t ask me again,” she said almost yelling.
I tried to find a place that I could put the toy so it wasn’t that visible. I couldn’t
find anywhere. I started getting so mad, that I threw it to the ground. I hate that stupid, ugly little thing. Then I felt bad. I picked it up and remembered how soft it was.
And how it was my favorite toy to sleep with. I brushed it off and put it on my bed.
Maybe you never really outgrow your childhood stuffed animals.
Page 13
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Childhood Part I by Tyler Walsh
There is nothing better than playing with your friends
on a hot summer day
messing around in the scorching heat
sweat dripping down your face
Getting three sodas from the cooler
The loud snap then the soft sizzle of the sweet treat
Taste buds tingling for the thirst quencher
quickly picking up the frosty can
Drinking the whole thing with in one breath
I wish I could always be a kid
“And it’s intercepted on the goal line by
Malcolm Butler!” by Jacob Rauhut
Page 14
Volume 1 Issue 4
special by Rachel Korosi
it isn’t easy
going to school
working
trying
listening
but it is even harder
to go outside
at the recess yard
and find
people
in groups
“cliques”
and realize
that you
are not part of a “clique”
but that
you
are
different
you
don’t
fit
in
and that is the real challenge
of going to school,
of childhood,
realizing that you don’t seem to have a best friend
always at your side
but knowing that it isn’t your fault
you know that you’re special
Page 15
Flower Petals
by Berkeley Steinhauer
quartet
Childhood—Part II by Tyler Walsh
There is nothing worse than writing an essay
sitting down next to the desk
knowing that I am going to be there for awhile
beginning to write
Page after page, getting nowhere
Tiny pink shavings lurk around my desk
Crumpled up pieces of paper cover the shaggy blue carpeting
It feels like I'm on an island, surrounded by pieces of bad ideas
Glancing at the clock
already midnight
I wish I were an adult
Home by Rachel Korosi
Home is the happy place
Where you forget about the bad things
Where you are with the ones you love
Where you can open up and tell stories
Home is where you hold your favorite possessions
Like books
And toys
And collectables from different places
Home is where you can trust everyone
And where you can share secrets if you wish
Home is where children grow up
Home is where children always want to be
It’s okay to cry when you’re at home
Home is worry-free
Because somebody will always be there to fix your problems
And at home people support you through every step of the way
Home is the place that we love most
it is the place where we took our first steps
and someday our last ones, too
Page 16
An Inner Battle by Sean Leyden
“Hopefully. The
word resonated in
Mark’s head. Not
you’ll live;
hopefully you’ll
live.”
Page 17
Mark Stone sat
hunched over on a
cold metallic examination table. His long
lean frame trembled
at the thought of
what his doctor had
called him in for. He
sat up as he saw the
doorknob slowly turn.
His doctor gingerly
opened the door and
entered. He held a
small yellow paper
and Mark could tell
from the look in his
eyes that whatever
that paper said was
not good.
“Mark, I ran some
tests and I have some
bad news for you. It’s
never easy to tell
somebody something
like this.” He paused
and took a deep
breath. “The tests
came back positive for
adult Tcell Lymphoma.” Mark instantly
fell back in disbelief.
He couldn’t believe it.
World famous movie
director Mark Stone
suddenly stricken with
a deadly cancer in his
lymph system. It was
something even he
couldn’t come up
with.
His mind was clouded with shock. What
started as a small pain
in the back of his neck
just a short week ago
had ballooned to a life
threatening situation.
He might never return
to what he was just
last week. He began
to feel sorry for himself.
“Mark,” his doctor
said softly. “With such
an aggressive cancer
it would be best to
start treatment as
soon as possible.”
“Whatever you say
Dr. Jenkins,” Mark replied. His voice sounded cold and distant.
“Due to the location
of the tumor we cannot operate. If we do
there is a 98% chance
you will be killed or
paralyzed. However,
Roche pharmaceuticals has made 100
doses of an experimental drug called TCAP. Now this drug
has not been tested
very much on humans. With that in
mind if you don’t feel
comfortable with that
then chemotherapy is
always an option.”
“Doctor I don’t
mean to disrespect
Roche or anything but
I’d like to try something more proven
like chemo,” Mark
replied as his voice
came back to life.
“Excellent, we’ll
schedule a surgery for
Volume 1 Issue 4
9 AM tomorrow to
implant your chemo
port.”
Mark arrived the
next day to Johnson
Memorial Hospital
and checked in. He
met with his Dr.
Michaels, his Oncologist. Dr. Michaels was
tall, standing about
6’4, but lean. He wore
black framed glasses
and had a light beard
around his mouth and
chin.
“Hello, Mr. Stone,”
Dr. Michaels said
greeting Mark. “I’m
sorry for your diagnosis, but hopefully our
treatment can put
cancer in the rearview
mirror.” Hopefully.
The word resonated
in Mark’s head. Not
you’ll live; hopefully
you’ll live. He went to
the bathroom and
changed into a light
colored hospital
gown. He then laid
down in a portable
bed and a nurse
pushed him into the
operating room. Mark
was put under and
awoke several hours
later in a quiet room.
Two light blue silk curtains were drawn in
front of the windows.
quartet
An Inner Battle by Sean Leyden
A small circular table had been set
up holding several
flower vases. He
looked down and
found a plastic tubelike object in his right
arm. Dr. Michaels
slowly entered holding a small packet of
papers.
“Here Mark, this
will be your chemo
schedule. It will start
Tuesday and continue
once a month until
your cancer goes into
remission. Hopefully it
won’t even last six
months.” Hopefully.
There was that word
again, Mark thought.
Six months later, it
had not gone away.
Mark’s hair had fallen
out and his mouth
burned. He wore a
mask to protect his
weakened immune
system. It also hid his
teeth. They were
stained yellow like the
corn he ate at barbecues on the fourth of
July. His mouth stung
of sores and ulcers.
His stomach churned
and he felt dizzy, like
he had just gotten off
a spinning ride at a
carnival. He was skinny and frail because it
hurt too much to eat.
He could not stand up
without vomiting and
falling to the linoleum
floors. His head constantly throbbed and
he slept most of the
day.
“Doc, I can’t take
much more of this,”
he told Dr. Michaels
one day. His voice was
hoarse and raspy in
contrast of the
smooth, charming
tone his throat produced just seven
months ago.
“Well, Roche still
happens to have 25
doses of their experimental drug. I can see
if they’re willing to
ship some here,” said
Dr. Michaels. Mark
groaned, conveying
his disapproval. “I just
want you to know
that if you choose the
experimental drug
then you could potentially be saving the
lives of countless others,” replied Dr.
Michaels.
“You know what
doc, I think that if I
can save any lives
then that’s a choice
I’ll make,” declared
Mark before erupting
into a fit of coughing.
About an hour later
Dr. Michaels appeared again.
“I have good news
Mark; Roche has
agreed to ship 10 dos-
es of T-CAP from the
Cook Islands on Tuesday. The drugs will arrive Friday morning and
we can begin treatment
Friday afternoon.”
The drugs arrived Friday afternoon and later
that day Dr. Michaels
entered the room with
a gallon sized plastic
ziplock bag containing
two small vials. One vial
was an amber brown
and the other was clear
like vinegar. Also in the
bag was a pair of eight
inch long horse-sized
needles. Uh Oh.
Mark thought, shrinking back in his bed. Dr.
Michaels placed the
bag on a table next to a
get well card and a vase
of flowers. He took out
one of the needles and
administered the contents of the amber vial
into Marks wrist. Mark
yelped prompting Dr.
Michaels to snicker. He
then disposed of the jar
and needle and drew
from the second clear
jar. He administered it
into Mark’s other wrist.
Mark kept quiet the
second time.
“Mark, now remember to notify me of any
headaches because it
could be signs of an aneurysm or cerebral
hemorrhage,” warned
Dr. Michaels.
“Hopefully it
won’t even last
six months.”
Hopefully. There
was that word
again, Mark
thought.”
Page 18
An Inner Battle (continued)
“Okay,” Mark replied
stubbornly.
After about a week
Mark began to feel better.
His hair was slowly beginning to grow back. The
sores in his mouth had
also begun to heal. A
week after that he began
to sit up and he could
open his mouth without a
wretched stench filling the
air. Then Dr. Michaels administered the second
round of shots. He
stopped vomiting and he
no longer felt sores in his
mouth. Then he received
the third round of shots
and his headaches had
gone away and his teeth
were no longer a yellow
stained mess.
After several weeks of
hospitalization and treatment, Dr. Michaels approached Mark with a
joyous look upon his face.
“Mark I have fantastic
news. Your cancer is now
in remission. We will administer the final round
tomorrow and then you
can be discharged.” Mark
Volume 1 Issue 4
sat up and pumped his
fist in delight. He reached
out and bear-hugged Dr.
Michaels.
Dr. Michaels administered the final dose the
next day. Later, Mark
walked over to the front
desk and checked out. For
the first time in eight
months he left Johnson
Memorial Hospital cancer
free.
Being Young by Ben Zion
Energy fills every heart
Happiness is in every smile
Agility on the tiny toes
Friendship caries each hand.
Laughter blows with the wind
Yells of joy climb the trees
Optimism crawls through the grass
Adventure meets the rocks.
The children run and play
Create havoc without harm
Get hurt and bounce back up
Cry with temporary tears.
The old man sits quietly
Looking out through the window
Solemnly he smiles as he sees
His grandchildren playing, the way he once did.
Page 19
Childhood by Ben Zion
quartet
Skyrush by Rachel Korosi
It’s the biggest and
scariest coaster I’ve ever
seen. Against the cloudy
orange-blue sky, it looks
like a monster on Halloween out to get someone. I
contemplate about whether
or not I should let the monster devour us. Me and my
dad exchange glances.
“I wanna do it,” I say
nervously. My dad looks at
me like I’m crazy.
“Are you sure?” he
asks, looking nervous himself.
“Yeah.” I look up at
the bright yellow coaster.
200 feet up in the air. A
huge, whooshing drop.
Twists and turns. I watch as
a cart goes up the storming
hill. It reaches the peak in
about ten seconds. I watch
the people sitting on the
wings put their arms out to
the side as the cart goes
straight down at 75 miles
per hour. This was the fastest coaster in the whole
park. It was even faster
than Storm Runner, which
went from zero to sixty in
three seconds. I was beyond nervous. But at the
same time, my brain told
me that I had to go on it at
least once. “C’mon, let’s
go,” I say, grabbing my dad
and entering the line.
“Rachel, I’m not so
sure about this. I mean, it
looks kind of scary,” says
my dad.
“Oh, you’ll be fine,” I
insist.
Before we knew it, it
was our turn to enter the
cart. Me and my dad take
seats in the middle row .
We scooch into the two middle
seats. I take a look at the empty
wing on my right. At least I don’t
have to sit there, I think as relief
floods my body. But then an obnoxious couple decides to enter our
row.
Skyrush by Rachel Korosi
Page 20
Volume 1 Issue 4
Skyrush (continued)
“Move over,” the
woman says with a look of
disgust. They force us to
move down, pushing me to
the end. A look of panic
appears on my face as I
realize the truth. I have to
sit in the wing. I know my
dad would never do it, and
the couple probably couldn’t care less if I was a bit
nervous to hang off the
track. I slowly walk to my
seat, where I buckle in, my
hands shaking nervously.
The crew comes around to
make sure everybody is
okay. Then I hear someone
faintly say dispatch and
we’re moving. Me and my
dad look at each other.
“Here we go,” my
dad says with a nervous
smile.
The coaster is moving at a high speed, and I
get more and more nervous
as the peak comes near. As
we reach the top of the hill, I
look down. 200 feet. 75 miles
per hour. Hanging off the
track. I’m scared.
But as the coaster begins to
move over the hill, everything
changes.
WHOOSH!
We go straight down,
my hair blowing in the wind,
my legs dangling, my hands
in the air. I begin to laugh.
Then the coaster takes us on
an amazing journey, going up
and down a few more times,
twisting us around in circles,
all of us with our hands up
and smiles on our faces.
FLASH!
A camera takes a picture of our cart descending a
smaller hill. I am no longer
scared, but instead excited to
see what comes next.
When I spot the ending destination, however,
sadness creeps over my
soul. I have to get off my
new favorite roller coaster.
As we leave, me and my dad
look at each other.
“Thank you for forcing me onto that. New favorite coaster, eh?” says my
dad with a smile.
“I think this one even
beats the Great Bear,” I say.
“I didn’t think it was possible
for a coaster to be that
amazing!”
I see my mom and
my sister approaching us. I
run over to them, smiling. I
just conquered Skyrush, Hershey Park’s fastest and tallest coaster.
One Wish by Livia Schnorr
Through the window,
the sun shone in my eyes,
reflecting off of the snow lying
on the ground. It was the
morning of Christmas, but I
was not excited. Slowly, I
moved my body out of the
warmth of my bed, and my
feet touched the cold floor. I
went over to the window looking at all of the lights and decorations on my neighbors’
houses, imagining them bubbling with excitement for the
gifts about to come. Sighing, I
put my brown hair into a bun,
pulling on a sweater.
Most would be jumping
with joy with the excitement that
Christmas was here. Not me.
Most would be writing lists about
what they wanted. Not me. I only
wanted one thing, and that was
impossible.
The only thing I could
dream about was my parents
coming home from Iraq. Nothing
more, nothing less. That was the
one thing that would make me
happy. But it was impossible. I
had to wait another three
months to see them.
Sighing once again, I walked
down the steps to see my aunt standing in front of the door, seeming to
guard it, with a letter in her hands.
“From your parents,” is all that
she said with excitement in her voice.
Running down the rest of the stairs, I
grabbed the letter and ripped it open.
Dear Emma,
Merry Christmas! We wish we were
there with you right now, but we have
to wait a little while. We hope you
love your present.
Love, Mom and Dad
Page 21
quartet
One Wish (continued)
Autumn Days by Maria Fugel
Four sentences, that was it? Only
four short sentences. Tearing up, I
started to head back upstairs, but
my aunt stopped me and dragged
me in front of the door.
“Your present is outside,”
she explained before telling me to
open the door. Doing as she said, I
closed my eyes against the harsh
sunlight gleaming off of the snow.
Opening my eyes, I gasped before
closing them again and pinching my
arm. This couldn’t be true. They had
another three months. Standing in
front of me were my parents, both in
their uniforms, with duffel bags at
their feet. I sprinted toward them,
not caring about slipping on ice, and
jumped into their arms. I only had
one wish, and I’d gotten it!
All Things Come To an End
I sat, nervously, in the mouth of my owner waiting to be used again. Things had recently
started to feel a little different. I felt loose and
unstable. I heard others complaining about a
similar feeling in the past. And then after a week
or two, they would disappear. A couple of weeks
after that, there was a new tooth in their bed. I
had never quite understood this, but I just
hoped it would never happen to me.
A large, hard object being thrust in my
direction snapped me out of my thoughts. I recognized this object. It was an apple . I was
forced to insert myself into it. As I did my part in
helping to break the apple apart, I began to get
the feeling of looseness again. The feeling was
the strongest it had ever been. It was so strong,
I felt like I couldn’t help to do my part in chewing the apple. I was useless. The more I
chewed, the more loose I became. By the time
that the first bite was being pushed down the
throat by the huge, mean tongue, I was only
hanging onto my bed by a few threads of the
blanket.
I hated the tongue. It was so mean to
me. It would always touch me without asking me
and it had been wiggling me around lately because I was constantly complaining. Suddenly,
by Hannah Laffer
the tongue started wiggling me again and the last
few strings that I was holding on to were ripped
away from me. I felt a warm liquid running down
me. I guess the tongue didn’t like the way it tasted
because both the strange liquid and I were spit
out rapidly. I soared through the air, loving the
new feeling of wind blowing past me. My
thoughts were cut off when I came in contact with
a hard surface. I felt myself shatter into pieces. I
could faintly hear screams of pain that were coming out of my owner's mouth.
I knew that this was the end. I knew that I
was gone and that another tooth would grow into
my old bed. For the last few moments that I was
laying on the ground, I thought back on my life. I
had been around for 6 years. I had helped chew
up every last piece of food that I was given. Looking back, I felt proud. I had been through so much
being there every step of the way for my owner. I
hoped that the tooth that grew into my bed would
be as good to my owner as I was. I hoped that my
owner would remember me.
Page 22
Life as a Chew Toy by Ivy Mininger
Volume 1 Issue 4
I hate my life. My name is Andy. Porkchop is my owner. Porkchop gets up early in the morning barking at any animals he sees in the Chester’s back yard. Then, he rewards himself with me. He struts through
the living room, proudly wagging his tail with his head held high, finding his way over to me on the couch.
Then, like he’s stalking his prey, he pounces! Here we go again. His claws are pawing at me. He picks me up
and shakes his head around. Oh, no! A rip!
As a result of Porkchop's nonstop barking, Mrs. Chester stomps angrily down the stairs. “Porkchop!
You just woke up the whole family! What am I gonna do with you? Huh? Get in your cage!” Porkchop runs,
scared, to his cage in the dining room. Thank you, Mrs. Chester!
An hour later, Porkchop returns from his jail cell back to me. His same routine plays out once again.
As he races around with me, I say to him, though no words come out, “I really don’t like you, Porkchop,” and
I have a feeling, he hates me, too. Why else would he always hurt me?
**************************************************************************************************************************************
My best friend’s name is Andy, and he is my chew toy. I love him because he gives me comfort. I love to play
with him all day long, but sometimes Mrs. Chester gets angry at me when I get carried away, and start barking. Andy
loves me, too. I know this in my heart because sometimes I feel like I can hear him say, “I love you, Porkchop.” I know
we can’t communicate that well because I can’t speak Chew Toy, and he can’t speak Dog, but it still feels as though
we have some type of special connection. Every day, we wrestle together. He laughs, I laugh. It’s just me and Andy
against the world! If I could speak Chew Toy, I would tell Andy that I could never ask for a better friend.
**************************************************************************************************************************************
One Monday night, Mrs. Chester examines Andy. Porkchop is asleep on the kitchen floor. “Look
at you! Raggedy old thing,” she exclaims. “Time to throw you out.” Mrs. Chester picks Andy up,
and brings him toward the garbage. She steps on the creaky wood floor of the hallway, waking Porkchop.
When he sees that she has Andy, he bounds towards her, snatching Andy out of her grasp, barking frantically.
**************************************************************************************************************************************
My goodness! Porkchop has just saved me. Perhaps he really does love me.
“I love you, Andy,” I try to tell him. And I know deep down, that he loves me, too.
“I love you, too, Porkchop,” I say. Though no words come out, I know that, deep down, he hears me.
**************************************************************************************************************************************
My best friend’s name is Porkchop, and he is my owner. I love him more than words can say, and I am
proud to be his chew toy. Everyday, we wrestle, we play out in the warm grass, and I brush against the soft
dirt. We laugh together in harmony. I love my life!
Page 23
quartet
NYC Skyline by Hannah Laffer
Sunset by Hannah Laffer
Page 24
Bill’s Date In NYC by Jacob Rauhut
“Being
homeless is not
like he
imagined it. Bill
wanted
someone to
spend the rest
of his life with,
someone he
truly loves.”
Page 25
His name is Bill
Johnson and he lives
on the streets of New
York City. He has no
warm home. No love.
But he does have a pet
squirrel named Steve.
Bill met Steve back in
‘01. They have been
together ever
since. Bill is what you
refer to as homeless.
He was in debt and he
had to pay rent, but
then realized that being
homeless is a lot easier. Being homeless is
not like he imagined it.
Bill wanted someone to
spend the rest of his
life with, someone he
truly loves. He needs
her to be stunningly
beautiful, funny, and
rich. Someone to love
him for who he is. He
couldn't really meet
someone face to face
because then she definitely wouldn’t want to
go out with him.
He wonders,
How do I get a girl to
like me? Like he read
Bill’s mind, Steve
points at the nearest
Barnes and Noble.
“Brilliant,” he exclaims as he hands
Steve a half-eaten bagel.
As they jaywalk
across the street, the
smell of sewer and
gasoline floods the air.
They arrive at the book
store. Bill opens the
door for his pet and
walks in. The smell of
dust and new printed
paper fills his nostrils.
He takes a big whiff of
the air. Store goers
and consumers stare
in awe, their jaws
practically on the floor
when they saw Steve
and Bill strutting
through the store towards the romance
and love section.
Bill starts to
scan the books, but all
of them were about
shirtless dudes. He
starts to get into one,
but is cut short by a
lady staring at him like
he’s homeless or
something. Nothing
there. Bill and Steve
move on to another
section of the
bookstore. As he
passes the children's
area, the caterpillar
corner erupts in a sea
of crying and mom
calling. Bill wonders,
Am I that ugly?
“What do we
have here,” he says
while peering into the
distance and spotting
the answer to his
prayers. A copy of Dating for Homeless
Dummies resting on
the shelf. He sprints to
the book and rips
open the cover.
“The store is
closing in two
minutes, the store is
closing in two
minutes,” a voice dully
says over the intercom.
“Oh no,” Bill
Volume 1 Issue 4
exclaims as he starts
to look over the table
of contents.
“Good looks,
good hair, lots of money, don't be weird!
There is nothing in
here that can help me!
Oh! Blind dates! But
of course! That is
what I need!”
“The store is
closing in one minute,
the store is closing in
one minute,” the voice
sounds again. Bill
proudly struts out of
the bookstore and
takes his place on his
corner. Bill stretches
out on the cold, hard
metal, bench, and
falls asleep with happy dreams of the perfect women.
In the morning, he
gets up and heads to
the nearest Apple
store. Pets are not
allowed in, so Bill
stuffs Steve into his
jacket pocket. Steve is
resentful and keeps
biting Bill on the side
of his chest. Bill, taking in all the pain, fnds
a computer in the corner, and goes onto an
online dating website
and makes his profile.
Bill’s username is Mr.
Hot Swaggy 2453. He
searches “hot guys”
on Google and finds
quartet
one that will make a
good profile pic. In
his bio he writes: I am
very romantic, well
dressed, and can take
you to a very good
restaurant.
“Perfect! This
just might work,” Bill
says, “I finally finished.”
An Apple
worker makes Bill
leave the store because Bill's fingers are
so dirty that when he
finishes typing, the
keyboard is no longer
white. He has to go to
work now. So Bill
goes to Times
Square, sits near the
Toys R Us, and holds
out a holed hat. Steve
performs tricks for
him. Bill hopes to attract the tourists with
Steve’s dancing and
nut throwing. Bill finally gets some money,
around 20 bucks, and
grabs a bite to eat.
Literally a bite. After
he finishes his lunch,
Bill returns to the Apple store.
He hops onto
his account and finds
three girls trying to go
on a date with him.
One is named Betsy
White. She is way too
old for him. Next, he
finds a good woman,
but she has kids and
is just middle-class.
Bill’s trying to marry
rich, here. The last
one is named Sarah.
Boy, she is just his
type. Rich. At least
that’s what it says in
Bill’s Date In NYC (continued)
her bio. Bill accepts
her request to date
him.
“Now to find
something to wear,”
Bill says when he
rounds the corner and
spots a Men’s Warehouse.
He goes to the
dumpster behind a
Men's Warehouse,
and finds a really
good looking browncolored jacket beneath some bags of
heaven knows what,
and some really fancy
red pants. He tries
everything on. Bill
looks good. Steve is
not very impressed.
Bill finds a brush in a
trash can and works
on his hair and beard.
Bill does the best he
can, but he still looks
like an old homeless
person. He then
heads to the nearest
dry cleaners and
spends most of his
money he had saved
up on cleaning his
clothes. Bill messages Sarah to meet him
in Times Square.
Bill stands
near an Elmo impersonator. Slipping him
one dollar, Bill whispers in his furry red
ear, “If you take me
and my girl to the
nearest Subway sandwich shop, you can
get this.” Elmo hesitantly agrees and Bill
waits for Sarah to arrive. There she is,
looking very beautiful.
He approaches her and
Elmo waits for them on
his bike.
Sarah says,
“Excuse me sir, have
you seen anyone here
that is rich handsome,
and can take me to a
really good restaurant?
I am supposed to meet
him here, and there
doesn’t seem to be any
rich, handsome people
around.”
Bill kisses her
hand and whispers in
her ear, “I have. You
are looking at him right
now. Are you, Sarah?
She replies,
”Wait. You’re Mr. Hot
Swaggy 2453? Are you
lying?”
Bill says, “ I do
not lie to beauty.”
“This can’t be
happening,” Sarah exclaims.
“I have a very
fun night planned out,
and it would not be possible without you,” Bill
says. Sarah glares at
Bill for several seconds
before replying.
Sarah says,” So
will you be taking me to
dinner?” Bill notes a
hint of resentfulness in
her voice.
“Well, uh, our
chariot awaits,” Bill
points towards the Elmo
impersonator on his
bike who rings the bell
on the bicycle twice.
She sits on the
second seat and Bill
sits on Elmo’s lap because it is the only seat
available. Elmo starts
down the street.
“In his bio he
writes:
I am very
romantic, well
dressed, and
can take you to
a very good
restaurant.”
Page 26
Bill’s Date In NYC (continued)
Bill looks back and sees a
very angry lady.
They arrive at the
Subway sandwich shop. Sarah and Bill hop off the bike.
Bill slips Elmo two dollars
making it clear that Sarah
sees how rich he is. Bill
opens the door for her and
they step into the sandwich
place.
“ My main man Fernando,” Bill says as the worker nods his head at him. Bill
pulls the chair out for Sarah
and she sits down.
Bill asks, “ What do
you want?” It can be anything
because dinner is on me.”
She says, “ Uh yes I
would like a salad.” Bill looks
up at the menu and he sees
that the salad is five whole
bucks.
Bill says to her, “ Uh
why don't we have something that is cheaper.”
“Fine I will have a
BLT. If you can afford it,” Sarah says sounding really annoyed.
It was three dollars.
“I guess that is doable,” Bill says.
Sarah’s face lights up
red like the Fourth of July.
Bill orders an Italian melt. As
he waits for the food he notices that Elmo is still out-
side. But with Sarah! Bill holds
out his hand in awe and she
waves at him with her arms still
wrapped around Elmo's furry
waist. Elmo and Sarah speed
off into the moonlight, and he is
left there, with Fernando, and a
BLT, and a sub. Bill eats them
both.
After his meal, Bill walks
to Central Park and sits by the
edge of the lake, the moonlight
reflecting off of the cool water.
Bill sits alone, until Steve comes
along and nestles in his arm. At
least Bill has Steve, which
makes being homeless not as
bad as it could be.
A Night At Sea by Daniel Campbell
Page 27
Volume 1 Issue 4
quartet
The Same Sky by Livia Schnorr
The same sky. Always a pale
blue, never a cloud. The sun front and
center, showering the world with a
fierce and burning heat. There was never any wind, the short grasses still and
motionless, their sandy colors matching
the desert soil. It was always the same.
The same grass, the same dirt, and always the same sky. The blazing sun hit
my skin, making me feel like I was on
fire. No matter how long I’ve lived here,
the sun always burned my skin to a crisp.
No matter what any of the villagers did,
we would always be at the same place
we started. The only thing growing here
was wheat and there were scarce trees.
Everybody grew crops, everybody
shared what they grew. The little food
that we had was rationed, divided evenly throughout the families. Buffalo would
come to graze on the grasses, the only
animals besides us on this barren land.
There was barely any rain, less than an
inch a year. We collected water from a
well we built, the only thing that would
grow our crops and keep us from dehydrating.
Turning around, I headed back to
the village dragging my feet against the
sandy floor. No matter how far you
went, you would have to come back to
the village. We had sent people out before with supplies to last for months to
try and find some sort of civilization, yet
they always died or returned empty
handed. There was nothing out there.
The only thing we could do was harvest
and hunt. It had been like this for the
past twenty years. The sun burned everybody and everything. We were the only known survivors. Nothing surrounded
us.
Our elders, the oldest among us
here, scheduled each and every day, so
that they knew where we were and
what were doing, and so that we don’t
run off. It has always been like this. The
same every day. Going back inside my family’s hut, I shook the
sand off of my clothes, took off
my shoes, and hopped onto my
palate. After removing the cloth
protecting my nose and mouth, I
drifted off into a deep sleep. I
dreamt about rain. I didn’t know
what it felt like. I was born in
this wasteland. My father remembered, constantly telling us
that it feels like nothing we
could imagine. That sometimes
it came down hard as stones and
sometimes it was sweet and
gentle like a lullaby.
I woke up to the sound
of people screaming. Rushing
outside, I saw people pointing at
the sky. Looking up, it was the
same sky, the same pale blue,
but I didn’t see the sun. Looking
around, I noticed a pure black
blob where sun should have
been. I remembered what my
dad told me. It was a cloud! Observing the rest of the sky, I saw
more black clouds rolling in at a
fast pace. A light flashed, and a
deafening booming sound followed shortly after, sure to be
heard by the whole desert. Everybody was frantic trying to figure out what was going on. Before anyone could figure it out
though, an ice cold drop landed
on my forehead. Then another
landed, but this time on my
hand. Some people were yelling
for the elders and hugging their
children to them. Some were
frozen in place, eyes wide. Yet
some were spinning in circles,
smiling at the sky.
My eyes found their way
to my father. He was one of
“There was never any
wind, the short grasses still and motionless, their sandy colors matching the desert soil. It was always the same. The
same grass, the same
dirt, and always the
same sky.”
Page 28
The Same Sky (continued)
one of those who were spinning. He stopped and
caught my eye, ran toward me and screamed like a
little kid.
“Dad?” I asked frantically. “What is this?” He
looked at me again and grinned, which looked out of
place on his rough and weather beaten face.
“This, my dear, is rain.” He whispered the last
part. My eyes went wide. The one thing that we needed. The miracle that we wished for.
“What?” I breathe out, too shocked to speak
normally. This was impossible. The elders said that it
wouldn’t rain in the next seventy five years.
“It’s rain!” he screamed out. At this, everybody turned their heads to him. All of a sudden everybody was outside, the whole village. Farming and
hunting was forgotten, chores and tools. Everybody got
buckets and containers, filled them up with the cool liquid. I closed my eyes and let the water fall over me,
years of dust washed off.
Suddenly it stopped. I quickly opened my eyes,
only to be met with the sun’s heated glare. The sky was
blue again, not a single trace of black. I looked around to
find everybody with their mouths opened, gawking at
the sun. The sun once again blazed on, making the sand
beneath my feet heat up hotter than a fire. I then realized that I wasn’t wearing any of my protective clothing;
my boots, cloth, and gloves were left in the hut. I
Volume 1 Issue 4
sprinted into the hut as fast as I could, not wanting
to burn in the sun’s fierce heat. I pushed through
the cloth door to find myself enveloped in darkness. The heat was stifling, but was better than outside. I put my gear back on and walked out,
grabbed the buckets my father and I filled, and carried them back to the hut. I walked back in and
placed the filled buckets next to the entrance, saving them for later. As I began to take my gear back
off, I realized that no one was in the tent. I put my
gear back on and sprinted outside.
I noticed my father and mother coming out
of the elders’ tent. Slowing down to a jog, I caught
up to them. They both had blank looks on their faces. I swallowed the lump in my throat and walked
with them, realizing that we were in the buffalo
field. The ground was completely dry, not showing
a single hint of the downpour that had happened
only minutes before. There were buffalo grazing
several meters in front of us, looking up at us and
then back down to the grass. My father cleared his
throat.
“They said that today was a miracle, and
that it shouldn’t have been possible. It was a miracle.” I looked down at the dry grass, puddles dissolving in the heat. A miracle was what we needed,
and a miracle is what we got.
The Building by Tyler Walsh
Mark passed by the
same building for years now.
Everyday he walked the same
route to school, passing the
large brick, mossy structure. No
one in the town knew what the
building’s purpose was. All anybody knew was that the mysterious building was built a very
long ago. Everyone was curious, but no one dared to enter. Parents told their children
never go inside the building
and to always stay on the sidewalk.
This building was locatPage 29
ed in the town of Newsburry.
It was a small town with only about a thousand residents. Everyone in the town
had family members that had
been living there for many
years. All of the one-of-a kind
stores were owned by village
members and the town didn't
see a lot of visitors. There
was only one school each for
elementary, middle, and high
school
It was a very cold winter day in the middle of December. Mark was walking to
school. As he was passing the
building, he heard what
sounded like music. He
stopped and stared at the
building. The music stopped
simultaneously . Mark continued to stare at the building.
He was very confused. After
he stared for a couple of
minutes, he began to walk
again. Once he got to school,
he put his backpack in his
locker and went to homeroom. His friends James and
Paul were sitting next to him.
Mark explained to them what
happened. James and Paul
were very good friends with
Mark.
quartet
The Building (continued)
Both of the boys knew that
Mark was serious and very
frightened. “What should we
do?” Mark asked.
“Nothing,” replied
Paul. “No one has ever been
in there or has ever attempted. There must be a reason
for that.”
“I guess you are
right.” Mark knew that Paul
was right but he was desperate to know what was going
on.
Mark continued to
walk to school for the rest of
the week. He didn't have any
more encounter with the
building. James went to
school on Monday and appeared nervous. “What happened?” asked Mark.
“There is something
wrong with that building,”
James replied, “I heard people talking on my way to
school this morning.”
“Did it stop when you
slowed down?” Paul asked.
“ I didn't slow down; I
just ran.”
The three friends all
looked at each other. All of
them agreed that they had to
investigate. The only place
that was good for surveillance was the park. The
weekend after James had
his encounter they all gathered in front of the abandoned building. It was as silent as it usually is. They
walked across the street to
the park, sat on a bench, and
just studied the building. The
park was very small with only
a few benches, one of them
happened to be facing the
building. The building was
silent the whole time. It was
as if it knew they were
watching. The three boys decided to leave. They got up
from the bench and walked
home. Mark began to think
that he and James might
have heard music from another house.
It was about a week
after the encounters with the
building. All three of the boys
wanted an explanation, so
they rationalized that they
were just anxious passing
the house, and the music
and talking was most likely in
their imagination. The boys
walked to school every day
for weeks after and heard
nothing from the building.
About four months
passed and it was summer.
James, Paul, and Mark all
had a two month vacation.
On the second week of vacation the boys decided to go
back to the park. As they
were walking they looked at
the building. It was quiet as
could be. Mark stopped walking and stared at the house.
Nothing happened. They
continued to walk. Abruptly a
light flickered in the building.
It went on for about thirty
seconds.
“Look,” Paul
screamed. The other two
boys looked up. “What?”
Paul said in terror.
“There is someone...
something in the building,”
Mark said.
“We need to find out,”
Paul stated. The boys decided to break into the building.
They were going to go later
that same day. Ten hours later, the boys were getting prepared to go in the building. By
then It was pitch black outside.
They each brought a flashlight,
backpack, camera, and crowbar. They were all very nervous as to what they would find
in the building.
It was about eleven
o’clock when the boys were
walking to the building. The
whole town was silent. Even
the bugs weren’t making a lot
of noise. They walked the mile
long walk in about fifteen
minutes and reached the
building. There was a large
piece of plywood blocking the
door. It was very old and brittle. They used the crowbar
and removed the plywood as
silently as possible. Then they
saw large metal doors. There
were no knobs, so they just
pushed them open and walked
inside. Once stepped inside,
they saw a row of doors leading to a concrete staircase.
The doors were made
of metal and had locks on
them. They walked passed the
doors. They were all silent;
None of them dared to breath,
it seemed. The floor was
damp, as if someone had recently cleaned it. The boys
walked up the stairs. As they
were walking they began to
hear noise. It sounded like
people talking. There was another floor with doors and a
staircase except those doors
had a little rectangular opening
at the bottom.
Page 30
The Building (continued)
They walked up another flight
of stairs, and the talking became louder.
This time they saw light.
There was a large circle of
about a hundred foldable
chairs. The infamous window
where the light was seen was
in the room. There was no one
there, but there was still talking. It sounded as if there were
a large group of people. The
boys continued down the hallway next to the room with the
chairs. There was a small
room on the left about ten feet
into the hallway. Paul went inside as he was the most courageous out of all of the
boys. He saw large, brown
bags of bread piled up to the
ceiling. Paul was very confused. Hex exited the room,
frightened. His friends were
gone! Paul’s face turned red
and he began to sweat. He
continued to look for his
friends. He jogged down the
dark hallway and entered a
large blue room where he
found them at last.
His friends were looking
at art that covered the wall.
The art was just a map of the
town and all of the exits. They
were very frightened by this.
The exits were outlined in red
with a big X through them. The
ceiling in the room was about
twenty-five feet tall. Although
the ceiling was tall, the room
was small. All of the rooms
had an entrance and a doorway to the next room. This one
was no different.
The boys walked
through the next room hoping
Page 31
it was an exit. There was a very
tall, large concrete staircase.
They walked up in a single file
line. When they reached the
top, they were shocked by what
they saw. At the top of the staircase was one family member
from all of the houses in Newsburry. Paul saw his dad, Mark
saw his aunt, and John saw his
mother.
“What is going on here?”
Paul asked.
“Yeah, but the real question is what are you doing
here?” John asked. None of
them answered. They all got up
from their seats and slowly approached them. Mark’s aunt
said, “You shouldn't have entered; you should have waited
until you were older and found
out like the rest of us.”
“Find out what?” Paul
asked.
“Why do you think this is
such a quiet town?” Mark’s aunt
asked with a sadistic look on
her face. “Because we make it
this way. No one that doesn't
have family living here can live
here. Outsiders always try to
stay here, but they don’t get
far.”
Suddenly it dawned on
them. The map, the food, the
locks, they are keeping people
as prisoners. Before she could
finish what she was saying they
bolted to the door. They ran
past all of the rooms and down
the stairs. But Paul tripped. He
screamed. The residents caught
up to him and put zip ties
around his wrists. Mark and
James ran down the stairs and
past the doors. As they were
running Mark stopped. He heard
Volume 1 Issue 4
the outsiders yelling to be let
out. He tried to help them escape. James attempted to pull
Mark along, but Mark kept trying
to open the doors. The residents
caught up. James continued to
tell Mark to follow him but he
didn't listen. So James ran outside . James was all by himself
and continued to run. He was
not planning on stopping until he
got to the city. As he was running, he heard someone calling
his name. It was Mark. He
caught up to James and they
both stopped.
“We have to
get out of here,” Mark proclaimed.
“We will, but first I need
to go home,” James said. He
ran home and kicked open the
door. He rushed into his room
and put some clothes into a
backpack. Before he closed his
door he looked back. Thoughts
were rushing through his mind
about how much he was going
to miss this house and the town.
“Hurry up,” Mark whispered. John closed the door,
then walked down the hall to his
parent’s room. The door was
wide open. No one was there.
James turned around and
walked outside.
“I found two bikes in the
garage,” Mark said. They
hopped on the bikes and rode
out of the town and onto the
main road. They biked and
biked all through the night. Finally, after the long, grueling
ride they made it to the city.
“I can't believe we left
Paul,” James said.
“I know but we can’t risk
going back. We are both safe
now.”
quartet
Remember by Hannah Laffer
Every generation
Every year
Every country
Every city
Every neighborhood
Every child
Has past memories to look back on
Each generation
Each year
Each country
Every city
Each neighborhood
Each child
Brings new adventures and challenges to society
All generations
All years
All countries
All cities
All neighborhoods
All children
Have new trends and styles that impact the future
Each and every generation
Each and every year
Each and every country
Each and every city
Each and every neighborhood
Each and every child
Contributes to history
Page 32
The Worst Job by Jared Amster
“Trying to hold
him up for five
hours each day is
like Hercules
trying to hold up
three planets at
once!”
I never get a
break. I am constantly
being sit on and it's really
gross. Having the people’s bottom constantly
pressed against me
makes me want to throw
up. Typically, I may only
get five minutes rest before someone else sits
on me. Then, I am always pushed around; my
toes scraping across the
cold floor. This results in
a loud ¨Eeeeech!¨ It
sounds like fingernails
against a chalkboard. The worst part is
that people constantly
adjust the way they
sit. Sometimes these
adjustments tickle, and
then I’m in a good mood.
Other times, when I’m
frustrated, I wish I could
just scream at the person
and throw them off of
me.
There are many
people who sit on me,
but by far, the worst is
2nd grader Gavin
Gluck. Gavin Gluck is
not only clumsy, but he
weighs a ton, so it makes
my job harder. Trying to
hold him up for five hours
each day is like Hercules
trying to hold up three
planets at once!
Each morning, I
wake up when the light is
turned on, and then
Gavin is all over me. I
hear that humans take
Page 33
showers to wake
up? Well, chairs are
sat upon, which wakes
us up. When it's early
in the morning and I'm
cranky, I wish I could
break my leg just to
get Gavin off of
me. But I’m thinking
that might really hurt!
When a human
isn't comfortable,
mostly because they’re
standing not sitting,
this is when I'm most
comfortable. When a
human is comfortable,
mostly because they
are sitting on me, this
is when I am least
comfortable. It’s a
catch 22; neither of us
can be comfortable at
the same time, it
seems!
After holding up
the load that is Gavin
for quite some time, I
hear the teacher say
something about sitting on a rug. He finally gets up, and I can
relax! But this doesn’t
last long. Before I
know it, Gavin’s back
on me. Then, all of a
sudden his foot gets
tangled with my leg.
Gavin falls. Everything
happens in slow motion. He smacks his
head on the ground,
as I fall over as
well. He is hurt, but I
think I am hurt
Volume 1 Issue 4
worse. I feel a few
screws and bolts fall
out of me. I am definitely broken.
After Gavin is
taken to the nurse, the
teacher puts a sign on
me and pushes me
into the corner of the
classroom. I feel like
I’m in a time out! I
don’t really know what
is going on. I am left
in the corner, all by
myself overnight. Night time in
this corner is freezing! I am shivering. Normally, I keep
warm in my usual spot
near the heater. But
now the heater is on
the other side of the
room. I might freeze
to death!
The next morning, all the kids come
into the class and
avoid me. About 20
minutes later, a janitor
enters the room, puts
me on a cart full of other broken furniture,
and wheels me down
the hall into a dark
room. The lights flicker on and there are a
bunch of broken chairs
that I’m placed next
to. The janitor gets a
toolbox out and starts
inserting screws and
bolts into me. I’m
starting to feel better
quartet
The Worst Job
(continued)
calm. Unlike the other chairs next to me,
I’m getting fixed!
Soon, I feel very
tight, like I have no
room to move. I am
as stiff as a plank of
wood. And then,
I’m wheeled right
back to the classroom. The 'Broken'
sign is removed,
and Gavin sits all
over me once again.
Airborne by Jared Amster
My Pride and Joy by Cole Marron
Page 34
The Knockout by Daniel Leddy
“The days until
the fight are draining quickly. Every
day I have been in
the gym sweating
and working
hard.”
Page 35
The big fight is one
week away. I have worked
so hard for this moment,
and it is finally here. This
will be my shot to step in
the cage and do what I
was trained to do. I head
over to the gym at about
10am to weigh in before I
can fight. I am looking to
be 155 pounds or less because that would make me
a lightweight fighter and
that is the weight class I
have to be in if I want to
fight. I enter into the humid
gym and see my trainer
Mitchell and a guy who
looks small and quick.
Mitchell introduces me to
him and he says, “This is
who you will be fighting if
you weigh under 155
pounds.”
I shake the boy’s
hand and say, “Hi I am Brian.”
He replies back, “Hi
I am Malcolm Kendall.”
I step on the scale.
It goes back and forth between 155 pounds and
156 pounds. My heart is
palpitating, but then it
stops. The scale lands on
155 pounds, and I am so
relieved. I run around the
gym punching the punch
bags and I leave in excitement.
There are five days left
until I step into the octagon. There have been
many talks about Malcolm
Kendall dropping out of the
fight. The next day he
does drop out. I am offered a new match— to
fight a middleweight who
is six-feet tall and weighs
170 pounds. I take this
offer because if I don’t it
can take years to get another fight. This is a once
in a lifetime experience. I
just have to keep practicing and if I work hard, I
know I can win.
The days until the fight
are draining quickly. Every day I have been in the
gym sweating and working hard. There are two
days left now, and this is
my last day in the gym. I
go over the game plan,
and I work on drills for
quickness. After my time
in the gym, I go home. I
go into my cool air conditioned room, and I lie in
my bed and think about
the fight. What if this guy
ruins my career? What if
I lose? I can’t let this happen. I jump on my ipad
and look up Jonas
Franbelten the guy I am
fighting from the USA. I
see his record. He is 23
wins and 1 loss in his Ultimate Fighting Championship (UFC) career. I
am about to make it two
losses. His highlights are
impressive. He is a hard
puncher and a submission expert by the looks
of his highlights. I look at
the clock. It is 11 pm. I
set my alarm, turn off the
lights, and go to bed.
When I wake up
I make the trip from
scorching hot Texas all
the way to the arena in
Volume 1 Issue 4
Raleigh, North Carolina.
There is one day until
the fight and my adrenaline is flowing. I walk into the arena and see my
opponent. He walks
over to me and says,
“Are you ready to be
knocked out tomorrow?”
I reply, “Your record will be 23-2 after tonight, and mine will be 1
-0,” and I walk away.
It’s fight day. I
wake up in the morning
and I lay out my suit. I
take a shower and then
put my suit on. I head
out the door and drive to
the arena. I am informed that my fight is
on in eight hours. I do
some stretching and I
start to get ready for the
fight. My trainer Mitchell
also suggests that I do
some mental exercises,
so I find a free area and
meditate. After that I do
some yoga.
Three hours before the
fight Mitchell says, “Now
is a good time for a
small meal.” I eat a
small bowl of pasta for
energy. I am now all
ready for the big fight.
There is now 20
minutes until the fight. I
have never felt so alive.
The air is thick and humid. My adrenaline is
pumping because I am
so nervous and anxious
for the fight to start. After quickly changing into
my shorts and my reebok t-shirt I stand in the
quartet
tunnel of the stadium waiting for
my name to be called to the octagon. Then the PA announcer
says, ”Alright fans are you ready
to watch a fight?”
The fans reply back very
loudly, ”YES,”
“Ok then, lets meet the
fighters. Fighting out of Longford, Ireland, he is 22 years old.
Introducing Brian, “ The Beast”
O’Healy.” I walk out towards the
octagon and the crowd is uninterested. Then the PA announcer announces Jonas
Franbeltens name and the
crowd goes wild.
Thousands of people
crowd the arena just watch my
fight. The smell of beer lingers
in the crowd, and the smell of
blood fills the octagon. My heart
is pounding and my adrenaline
is flowing. If I can survive this
fight without getting my butt
kicked, I will feel accomplished
even if I lose the fight. I put my
mouth guard in and step into the
octagon. I block out all of the
crowd noises and focus on what
I need to do. My opponent enters the cage and the referee
gives us the rules. We touch
gloves and start to fight. We
start off dancing and prancing
around. Jonas makes the first
move. He steps in and gives me
a hard punch right into the gut.
Part of me wants to fall down to
the ground because of the excruciating pain, but the other
part of me knows I have to keep
pushing. The rest of the round
passes in a blur, and I am getting killed. My nose is bleeding
and I haven’t landed one punch.
Why did I accept this fight. I
have to keep pushing though,
The Knockout (continued)
because one punch can
change everything.
Finally, I land my first
punch in round two. It is a
very powerful punch to the
left side of the head. I feel
more confident now. For the
rest of the round I land a few
weak punches. It was a better round for me because I
am only punched once. In
round three I get taken down
and I take down my opponent. Before round four
starts Mitchell says, “Stay
strong Brian. You’re doing
great, just keep on doing
what you're doing.”
In round four I do exactly what Mitchell said.
Round five, the last round, is
about to start. I have done
well up to this point, I can’t
let the fight slip away now.
This round begins with more
prancing around. I feel so
alive. I know I need a knockout or a tap out to win, otherwise the my opponent will
probably be names the winner by the judges. I make
the first move of the round
by kicking Jonas on the legs.
then he lets down his guard
by his face, and I take advantage of it. I load all my
remaining power into this
one punch. I know it’s now
or never. I connect with the
punch and It hits him on the
nose and the jaw. He falls to
the ground, and I jump on
top of him and punch him
until the ref pulls me off. The
crowd roars, and I smirk
running my hand through my
red hair. Jonas remains on
the group. I knocked him out
and won the fight!
A week after the fight
I am booked doing TV interviews and have had articles
written about me. That one
punch changed my whole life
forever. The UFC president
called and offered me a sixyear contract to be a UFC
fighter. I accepted the deal
happily and hope I can do the
same again.
Page 36
Volume 1 Issue 4
Our Flag by Micah Kerness
soccer is a game
driven by passion
there are winners
there are losers
one goal,
be the champions
11 players? no,
we are millions
we are the people that will cheer
no matter what happens in the game
a jersey? no,
just our everyday clothes
a banner? no
it's our flag
success is not handed to us
every tear and sweat
leads up to the final game
the whistle blows
our brain is a soccer ball
I guess that's what they mean
when when they say soccer is on the mind
they score, we are dumbstruck
but we fight through it
we score the equalizer
and another and another
now we are dominating champions!!!
finally we win
we are untouchable
it pays off
go to bed
stuffed animal? no,
soccer ball
Page 37
“Atletico de Madrid Badge” by Wyatt Sibilia
quartet
The Last Game by Sean Leyden
The smell of burnt
rubber and astroturf never
smelled so good. It made
me feel as if all of my
stress had been relieved. I
felt like I was running on
top of a cloud, like my feet
didn’t touch the ground,
without a care in the world.
I began to stare at the giant
fluorescent scoreboard
Westbury 1- 1 Northern
Township. I just scored the
tying goal in the regional
soccer championship.
“Great goal Mike,” my
coach called out. The
Northern Township
brought the ball up to midfield. The ball nestled upon
the vibrant green grass as
an aroma from a nearby
carnival spread through the
air. Northern took the kick
off and the game started
back up. Northern’s star
player Jimmy dribbled
right at me. He was slightly shorter than me, but
stronger and he tended to
run out of control like a
wild dog let out of its cage.
I quickly panicked; I wasn’t sure what to do because
I play offense and I am unaccustomed to defending.
He dribbled past me and
had 20 feet of free space. I
turned around and ran back
as hard and fast as a raging
bull. I soon caught up with
Jimmy, but my momentum
carried me through to him,
and we fell to the astroturf
like a tower of Jenga
blocks falling apart. The
referee called a foul and
awarded the other team a
free kick.
“Jimmy, you take the
kick,” called the oppositions coach. I stood keeled
over and panting from
exhaustion. It was unseasonably warm and my jersey was saturated with
sweat. My teammates
made a wall to block the
shot and I stood near the
back post in case the ball
came to me. Jimmy stood
off to the side banging his
cleats off the turf. He ran
up and chipped the ball
barely over the wall. My
team’s goalie Sam raced
backwards and tried to bat
the ball away from the
goal but it was over his
head. I ran over to the ball
ready to clear it but at the
last second it hopped over
my shoe. By the time I
recovered the ball had already trickled into the
back of the net.
“Tough luck Mike. The
ball bounces oddly sometimes on AstroTurf,” my
coach called out. My
teammate Joe tapped the
ball to me and the game
restarted. I turned as if to
pass it back but spun
around towards the goal. I
raced across the field.
Two defenders stepped
up, but I spun between
them; I had only one more
to beat. I faked a shot and
flicked it past him. I was
one-on- one with the goalie, Marco. His long arms
and legs took up most of
the goal. I dodged towards goal, and when I
thought I had passed
Marco, I tapped the ball
over his head. However, he
reached back and punched
it over the crossbar. I
couldn’t believe it! I
thought I had tied the
game. Fortunately, my
team still had a corner kick
and a chance to tie the
game. My teammate and
best friend Pete took the
kick. His shaggy blonde
hair was dripping with
sweat, but his short lean
frame looked as energetic
as if he had just woken up.
His kick curled around
Northern’s entire defense
and right to me. I stopped
the ball calmly at my feet.
I saw Pete run wide open
towards the goal. He used
his elite speed to break
away from his defender.
That was our team play-to pass it to Pete with an
empty net.
No I thought I’ll be
the hero. I blasted a shot
on goal, but Marco dove
and poked the ball away.
Wow. I thought This goalie is for real. The ball ricocheted across the field. I
ran and collected it. I
weaved in and out gracefully between defenders
and found myself and Pete
two on two against the
Marco and Jimmy. I raced
to the goal as if to shoot.
Marco came out of goal
and Jimmy raced to me. I
sent a pass between the
two defenders.
Marco dove and
Jimmy slid to try to block
“He dribbled
past me and had
20 feet of free
space. I turned
around and ran
back as hard and
fast as a raging
bull.”
Page 38
The Last Game (continued)
it but the ball made it to Pete
who tapped the ball into the
empty net for a goal. The entire
team mobbed him. “Yeah,
Pete!” I yelled, “Let’s win this
game.”
“Come on guys we haven’t won this game yet,” called
our coach calmly as we trotted
back to our positions. I checked
the game clock. 55 seconds. I
can score in 55 seconds. Jimmy
took the kickoff and dribbled at
Pete. I saw in his eyes that under
no circumstances was the ball to
leave his feet. I ran over to double team him. I used my long
frame to cut off his passing angle. Jimmy had nowhere to go.
He was caught like a squirrel in
a snare. He spun frantically but
to no avail.
Pete knocked the ball
loose and I ran on to it with 40
seconds on the clock. I took off
down the field. Only one defender stood between me and
Marco. I faked one way and
The Last Game
by Sean Leyden
Page 39
flicked the ball another. I was
one on one with Marco. Suddenly, someone dragged me to
the grass awkwardly. I rolled
over on my ankle and it hurt
greatly. I looked up at the
smirking defender and lunged
at him. Fortunately, Pete
caught me by the collar and
held me back before I got sent
off. The referee set the ball up
20 yards from the goal. Pete
quietly held me aside for a few
minutes and let me cool
off. My ankle stung like a
hundred bee stings, and I could
not kick the ball with my usual
strength. I knew that if I shot
for power Marco could save it.
I also knew that if I tried to
place the ball him could chase
it down. I ran my hand through
my hair as I tried to outsmart
Marco. Then I recalled my
Volume 1 Issue 4
coaches wisdom.
The ball bounces oddly
sometimes on astroturf. The ref
blew the whistle and I approached
the ball. My shot squibbed up and
over the heads of the Northern
players. It had a peculiar spin to it
as it sailed through the air. Marco
raced over to catch the ball but all
of a sudden it bounced drastically
to his left. his momentum carried
him across the goal and he could
not recover. The ball rolled to the
back of the net as I leaped into the
air and pumped my fist. Pete tackled me and the whole team dogpiled on top of us. The referee’s
whistle chirped three times to let us
quartet
Stick, Smile, Present by Ivy Mininger
I knew if I didn't get nervous, I could make the shot. Level
Eight Gymnastics. I can see the
words in front of me as I prepare
for my dismount on beam. I am
working on a demonstration for
my coach. He tells me if I want to
make the cut, I have to work like
my life depends on it. Well, that’s
for sure. Everyday I wake and
climb out of bed, doing hour long
stretches for each split, certainly
preparing myself for my four hour
work-out at the gym.
My mom always tells me,
“You work too hard; you need a
break.”
“Not until I am sitting in my
level eight leotard, waiting in my
level eight class, taking instructions from my level eight coach,”
I’d reply.
My old coach always used
to embarrass me in front of my
friends saying, “Future gymnastics champion right in front of my
eyes,” gesturing right towards
me.
Workout in progress: Running one mile, 100 pushups, 200
situps, 5 minute planks, 5 minute
wall sits, and suicide sprints on
the bouncy track. Now the gymnastics: 20 picture perfect bridges, 100 needle kicks, 10 split
leaps, and 20 power-hurdles.
That is simply the warm up. I
work on my roundoff back handspring double tuck at the gym.
Next, I do my front handspring
to layout tumble. Sloppy. Too
sloppy. Beam: Back handspring
step-out to layout step-out.
Front tuck. Aerial. The Dismount:
A back handspring two footed
into a back tuck. Beam is my
challenge. My enemy.
I stand there with goosebumps on my arms and legs
from the cool fan above my
head. I take a deep breath, and
exhale. The bell that marks ten
seconds left, rings. I have to conquer my enemy. One last breath,
one inhale. Jump on right foot.
Power hurdle on the left. Arms
swing up in harmony with the
steps I take. Arms up. In midair.
Hands on chalk-textured beam.
Then feet. Arms swing up once
again. Don’t mess up, I think to
myself. Jump. Point. Land. Flip. I
was doing it. My dismount
would be perfect.
“He tells me if I
want to make the
cut, I have to work
like my life depends
on it.”
Jump, tuck, flip, land,
stick, smile, present.
Page 40
Volume 1 Issue 4
Disastrous Blind Date
by Alexandra Rotmil– Eser
Derek straightened his tie. He took a
deep sigh as he stared at
the mirror. He was, he
had to admit, a handsome fellow, but this was
his fourth blind date this
month. Why didn’t any of
his dates like him? The
“He stared at
farthest he had gotten
her in disbelief. was one week.
He strode into the
hallway and walked down
He closed his
the stairs towards the
eyes but quickly front door. The light flickered outside, as he took
opened them to
out the box with the neckget another look lace in it. He opened it to
make sure it was still
at her. She
there. It shone like the
sun, even though the
wasn’t there. In
house was dimly lit. He
her place stood made his way to the car
with his dinner jacket
a different
slung over his shoulder.
He put on the jacket and
woman.”
ungracefully plopped
himself onto the leather
seat.
Derek drove over
to Rachel’s house at 56
Sunton Lane. He combed
back his hair and stepped
out of the car. The lionhead knocker stared at
him as he approached
the elegant house. He
ran his hand along the
door until he reached the
rusty metal. His muscles
flexed as he attempted to
lift the knocker. It slowly
creaked upwards, and he
let it go with a heavy
bang.
Something moved
inside the house and the
door soon swung open. A
beautiful woman
Page 41
stood in the doorway
wearing an elegant dress.
It was
white with a light
purple at the very end,
embroidered with what
looked like silver diamond
shapes. Her hair was
pulled back into a bun and
she wore a little tiara-like
crown that matched the
embroidery on her dress.
Her skeletal face was
adorned with a shocking
red color lipstick and purple eyeshadow which
made her look even paler
than she really was. He
stared at her in disbelief.
He closed his eyes but
quickly opened them to
get another look at her.
She wasn’t there. In her
place stood a different
woman. She was pretty,
but she didn’t compare to
the woman he’d just seen.
She was wearing a flowing green dress that came
down to her knees. Her
hair was down and it
moved back and forth as
the wind blew.
“Hello! You must
be Derek,” said the woman.
“Ye-yes. And you
must be Rachel,” he stuttered.
“Yes, that’s me,”
she said, smiling. “Nice to
meet you!” She stuck out
her hand and Derek took
it. He shook her hand but
he looked around everywhere looking for the other woman.
“Are you looking
for something?” she
asked.
“Yes. As a matter
of fact I am. Before you
came out there was another person standing at
the door.”
“Oh, you mean
Kathy? She’s our maid. It
must have been her,
though I didn’t see anyone,” she replied.
“It couldn’t have
been your maid, unless
you let your maid wear
anything but a maid’s outfit.” he said, startled.
“Well, we don’t,
but there is no one else
who it could have been.
My parents are out, and
my sister is sleeping.”
“Is she pale?”
“No, Kathy is,
though.”
“But it can’t be
your maid. That woman
was…” he paused. He
didn’t want to ruin this
date, too by saying that
another woman was the
most beautiful in the
world.
“Yes?”
“Oh, nothing. Let’s
go. I made a reservation
at The Riviera for 9
o’clock.”
“Alright! That
sounds great!” They
walked to the car, but
Derek was still looking
about for any sign of the
other woman.
They arrived at
The Riviera, got a table,
and ordered.
A candle flickered
quartet
Disastrous Blind Date (continued)
as Derek sat at the table,
breathing deeply as he tried to
picture the woman again. He
sat across from Rachel, but he
paid no attention to her whatsoever. It looked like he was
staring right through her.
“Are you alright?” questioned Rachel. “You look pale
as a ghost.”
“I’m fine. I just want to
know who that person was.”
“Why?”
“Oh, I..I don’t know. I
just want to know who I saw.”
“If it’ll be of any help, I
can have Kathy come up when
we go home. You can take a
look at her and see if she is the
same person that you keep
talking about.”
“Thank you. That will be
very helpful.” The rest of their
time there was spent in silence.
When they returned to
Kathy’s house, Derek pulled
Rachel to the door, not realizing what he was doing.
“Slow down,” she said,
a bit irritated.
“Sorry. Can I please
meet Kathy now?”
“Yes. You may,” Rachel
replied as she took out her
keys. She inserted a small key
with a decorated handle into
the keyhole. She turned the
key and pulled it out. She
opened the door, and a woman
stood there wearing a maid’s
outfit. Derek nearly fell off the
top step when he saw her face.
The woman’s knees began to
tremble. She looked frightened.
“Someone please tell
me what is going on here,” Rachel questioned.
“Th-th-th-that’s the
woman I saw earlier today.”
“Th-th-that’s the man I
opened the door for earlier today.”
“So?” said Rachel, still
puzzled.
“I’m so sorry ma'am. I
truly am. I’ll tell you the whole
truth and then I’ll go pack my
bags because you are going to
fire me for this. Here’s my story. I know I didn’t get a day off,
but I decided that because no
one would need me for a while
tonight, I would go out with my
friends to a nice restaurant and
have a good time, then come
home and be ready to help you
to bed. I put on my makeup
and my nice dress and was
about to leave when I heard a
knock at the door. I instinctively
ran to the door to open it, but
realized what I was doing only
when the door was already
open. This man,” she pointed
to Derek, “was standing there. I
rushed to my quarters and
stood there panting, assuming
that you would come down to
see your date. I’m very sorry
for all that I have done.” She
put her head in her hands,
weeping. “I’ll go pack my bags
now,” she said, running downstairs to her room.
“I am truly sorry to say
this, Rachel, but I have to tell
you, I think Kathy is the most
beautiful person I’ve ever
seen,” he said, taking a deep
breath.
“I am stunned at how
this evening has played out,
but if you love her, it would be
cruel to try to keep you apart.
Go to her. Then get out,” she
said, a tear rolling down her
cheek. “Excuse me, but I have
to go cry myself to sleep,” she
said, running upstairs.
“Rachel, wait. Rachel...Rachel...Rachel.” Derek
called. It was no use. He had
broken her heart. He ran down-
stairs to Kathy. She wasn’t
there. The servant’s quarters
were empty. He ran outside the
back door and saw her walking
quickly down the pebble walkway to the street.
“Kathy!” he said, smiling. He pulled out the necklace
he had cherished for so long.
¨This has been in the family for
years. I would like you to have
it.¨
¨Thank you, but I cannot
accept this gift. I am only a
maid,¨ she replied, quietly.
¨I care not about your
rank in society but about you. I
insist you take it.¨
¨If you insist,¨ she said
as he lifted the necklace up.
She put it on, took his hand,
and they walked off into the
sunset together.
Page 42
The Reunion by Emily Penner
“I’m hoping
that this
reunion will
bring us back,
together,
because that is
what I want the
most.”
Page 43
I am so excited
for my college reunion
tomorrow. I have been
waiting for this day for
what seems like forever. Finally being able to
see my college gals will
be the best feeling ever. Seeing what happened in everyone’s life
will be so interesting,
but the best part about
this whole reunion is
being able to see my
college sweetheart,
Ryan, once again.
Ryan was the so
called “big man on
campus.” This was not
because he was the
coolest or most popular
guy, but because he
literally was the biggest
man on campus. When
I first met Ry, I completely judged him because of his size. I remember thinking that I
would never date him
because he was so big.
But then, the more I
hung out with him I realized how cool he
was.
Ry is by far the
funniest, nicest guy I’ve
ever met, and I quickly
went from being disgusted by his appearance and not wanting
to have anything to do
with him, to not wanting
to spend a second
away from him. After
three weeks of seeing
each other nonstop, as
friends, I started to
worry that he didn’t
like me; that our roles
had switched and he
thought of me, as how
I thought of him earlier
in the year.
I couldn’t stop
thinking of him. I think I
even started to draw
him in art class because he was all I
thought about. Now
that I think of it, I was
really pathetic. Then
one day, I decided I
had to talk to him
about it, I couldn’t take
it anymore. I told him
that I liked him, as
more than just a friend,
that I wanted to take
our relationship to the
next level. After I
poured my heart out on
the floor, he just looked
at me and sighed. I
thought I had screwed
everything up, that my
chances with him were
slim to none. Then, finally he let out a smirk
and said, “Lexi, I have
been waiting for you to
say that since the moment I laid eyes on
you.”
And that
was that. We dated for
all of the 4 years of college and 1 year after
that. We decided to
part ways after he got
an amazing job opportunity in New York, and
I had my beloved job in
Los Angeles. Unfortunately we lost connection after that. Now,
five years later, I am
Volume 1 Issue 4
still single, and missing Ryan more than
ever. I’m hoping that
this reunion will bring
us back, together, because that is what I
want the most.
I wake up to the
beautiful LA sun, and
my annoying alarm
clock beeping away. I
grab my phone and
check social media for
half an hour. Finally, I
get up, and change
into workout clothes,
I’m not the biggest fan
of running, but today is
such a beautiful day,
that I decide to run
three miles. When I
arrive back at my
apartment, I take a
quick shower, and
head back out to get
my nails and hair done
and to go shopping.
On hot days like
these, my hair is a frizzy mess, so I decide
to get a normal blow
out. I choose a light
lavender as the color
for my nails, and buy
two sun dresses, and
one pair of jean shorts
on my shopping trip.
Then I head back
home to get dressed
and ready for my reunion.
I run out of my
apartment to my car
with a huge smile on
my face, knowing that
today might as well be
the best day of my life.
I hop into my white
quartet
The Reunion (continued)
Range Rover, and drive
down to University of California, San Diego where
the reunion is, and where
we all went to college. As I
get closer and closer
many joyful memories pop
into my head, like the time
my best friends and I
hopped off a 100 foot cliff
into the gorgeous, teal water, of Lake Murray.
I run out of the car,
down to the party. The
shining sun blinds my
eyes as I search for my
friends. The lush, green
grass tickles my feet as it
slides through the sides of
my sandals. I start to walk
towards a huge hill that
me and my friends called
the “treatment hill”. Whenever my friends and I were
stressed, or sad we would
call a group meeting at the
the top of the hill. We
would bring towels,
snacks, and a speaker
and we would just relax
and stare at the gorgeous
water view listening to the
sound of waves crash.
The smell of the sea filled
the air.
Nina, my best college friend, stands at the
bottom of the hill. I jump.
“Nina!” I scream as I stumble down the steep terrain.
“Oh my gosh! Lexi!” She
yells back, running to the
bottom of the hill to meet
me. I jump into her arms,
and as she puts me down,
we do our silly college
handshake. “We run this
campus, yeah you know
us, we're Nina and Lexi
and we’ll put up a fuss, if
you don’t treat us like a
queen, we’ll go to your
sports game and ruin your
team!” We yell while
laughing hysterically. “Oh
my gosh I’ve missed you
so much!” We both say at
the same time, which
makes us laugh once
again.
“How’s San Fran?”
I ask excitedly.
“Fantastic! I’m engaged” Nina says while
holding out her ring. “Look
at this ten carat beauty!”
She says saying with
pride in her voice.
“Wow! I assume I
will be the maid of honor,
right?” I ask jokingly.
“Of course!” She
says with a huge smile
stretching across her face.
“So, Is Ryan here
yet?” I ask with way too
much desperation in my
voice.
“Lexi, don’t tell me
you are still thinking about
him. You broke up such a
long time ago! And yes,
Ryan is here, and looking
better then ever.” She replies whispering the last
part.
“I can’t take him off
my mind lately. It’s so bad.
I wish I still didn’t love
him,” I say looking at the
floor.
“Well then, lets go
find your man!” Nina responds jumping up and
down.
We walk across the
moss green grass, holding
hands, towards the party. I
scout the place looking for
Ryan, but I can’t find him.
“Nina, I’m pretty sure
Ryan’s not here.”
She laughs and says,
“That is because he lost a ton
of weight. He is over there in
the suit,” she says pointing to
a slender, dark haired man.
Even from the back he
looks fantastic, I think to myself, getting extremely excited. I walk towards him, taking
deep breaths, and trying to
stay calm. I tap his shoulder,
and he turns around.
“Lexi!” he says excitedly, and
gives me a hug. While
wrapped in his arms, I feel
safe and comforted.
“Hi Ryan,” I say trying
to act as calm as possible.
“What’s up!? What's
going on in your life?” He
asks sounding very thorough,
like he actually wants to know
about what’s happening in
my life.
“Well, I’m still working
in LA, and I absolutely love it.
I’m single and have been ever since we broke up,” I say,
which makes me sound like a
sad, nonsocial, cat lady. “But
enough about me, what’s up
with you?” I ask, eager to
hear his response.
“Well, I used to hate
the way I looked. I thought of
myself as “fat” and I wanted
to and pushed myself to
change, and I became sort of
obsessed with health. So, I
decided to change my profession,
Page 44
The Reunion (continued)
and now I am actually studying to become a doctor. I
got an amazing opportunity
to actually become an intern
at a hospital, and I am
learning from the best doctor in all of New York. The
best part about my new profession is that I get to help
people become healthy and
make sure they stay on that
track. Studying to become a
doctor has made me really
into fitness and working out.
I love running and try to run
ten miles a day. It really
makes me feel proud and
happy about who I am, and
who I have become,” He
says with a big smile
stretched across his face.
“Wow. You have accomplished so much! You
never fail to impress me,” I
say staring into his eyes
that are bluer than the Pacific Ocean.
“Thanks Lexi. So, do
you have any new hobby’s,
or anything you just get lost
in?” He asks, as he runs his
fingers through his flowy,
brown hair.
“Well, as you know
I’m a fashion designer, so in
my free time I really just like
to make clothes of my own.
I love finding new and different fabrics, and sort of
bringing them together to
make one amazing piece of
artwork,” I say blushing.
“And I also run ten miles a
day too, you know,” I say as
Ryan and I laugh together
in harmony.
Page 45
“You always know how
to make me laugh, you know
that right?” He asks looking
at his feet.
I swear I thought this
was the moment that I had
been waiting for. The moment when Ryan and I would
get back together. I was so,
so wrong. I leaned in hoping
for a kiss. I closed my eyes
waiting for our lips to touch,
and opened them when I realize he didn’t lean in. I see
him walking backwards, as if
he needed to get away from
me, and needed to get away
fast.
“Wait, Ryan! I’m sorry I
read the moment wrong. I get
it if you don’t like me like that,
but please just stay and talk.”
I say, tears welling in my
eyes.
“It’s not that I don’t like
you Lexi. Its that I’m in a serious relationship. My four year
anniversary is this Thursday,
and I’m going to propose.
Don’t take it personally, because it’s nothing against
you,” he says sounding sorry
and apologetic.
“Well don’t you think
you could have told me that
when we were talking about
our lives!?” I reply exploding
with anger.
“It’s my fault, I was going to get to it, but I think I
should leave now. Bye Lexi,”
He says almost running
away.
“I think you should
leave too!” I scream as I fall
onto the floor crying. Through
my blurry, tear filled eyes, I
Volume 1 Issue 4
see Nina running to me, and I
hear her comfort me telling me
that everything happens for a
reason, and that there is a better man out there for me. But I
don’t believe her. I know that
Ryan was and is the man for
me, and I don’t know how I’m
supposed to live without him.
When I got home from the
worst reunion ever, I sat on my
couch and pulled out my laptop. I see that there is a few
emails for me in my inbox. I
check the first few, which are
all just junk mail, and then I
open up the last one. I look at
the top and see that the email
is from
[email protected].
My heart instantly picks up
pace, and beats out of control.
I take a few deep breaths and
begin to read.
Hi Lexi. I don’t know if you
have my email, but it’s Ryan. I
am so sorry about everything
that happened today, and I
have some explaining to do, so
here it goes. Today when we
talked, it reminded of what we
used to have and all the laughs
we shared. It got me thinking
about how I miss that and miss
you. I know, I’m pretty much a
jerk because I’m in a serious
relationship, but I know that I
still love you and I can’t help
my feelings. I don’t know what
I’m going to do with my girlfriend, but I know that I want
you and I think we should give
our relationship another try.
Call me when you get this at
914-965-1147. Thank you, and
sorry for today. Xoxo- Ryan
quartet
The Reunion (continued)
After I finish reading, I reread the email about a hundred times. I can’t help but
smile each time I read it. This
note is the first glimpse of
hope that I have seen in a
while. Well, what feels like a
while. There is a possibility
that it won’t work out, that
Ryan is too deep in a relationship to let go, and that scares
me. But, there still is that part
of me that knows that everything will work out and everything will be OK, but I would
be lying if I said that I wasn’t
nervous. I slowly pick up the
phone and dial 914-956-1147,
making sure that I punch in
By Ivy Mininger
each number correctly. The
ring fills my ear three times,
when all of the sudden I
hear a soft and sweet voice
that says, “Hey Lex.”
Page 46
Dance by Alexandra Rotnil-Eser
Page 47
Volume 1 Issue 4
quartet
Farm Work by Alexandra Rotnil-Eser
Page 48
Finally Free by Tia Rockland
“I never get any
attention from
my parents
because I am
the “perfect
child” that
doesn’t need
any corrections
or lectures.”
Page 49
It was quiet...too
quiet. I have never experienced silence before because living with
6 other kids is complete
chaos, all day long. I
also have never been
awake early enough in
the morning to see the
sun rising. 5:30 am.
Counting from oldest to
youngest there’s 18
year old Jason, 16 year
old twins Layla and
Rob, 13 year old Luke,
my younger sister
Sasha who is 8, and 5
year old Mimi. At 12
years old I'm pretty
much the therapist in
the family. Every time
there is a fight or miscommunication I am always there to fix the
problem and find the
solution. I never get any
attention from my parents because I am the
“perfect child” that
doesn’t need any corrections or lectures.
This of course is incorrect, but in a family of 7
children, the parents
need one child that they
can always rely on. I ran
away from home for
many reasons, but that
was a major one was
because I knew this
would be a great way to
get attention.
Deep breaths,
deep breaths. I have
ran almost 2 miles
which was a lot considering I played no sports
and hardly ever went
outside. I glance
around and realize that
I am a good distance
away from my house. I
finally slow down to a
walk which lets me
think of a plan. I have
no food, water, or shelter, but I do have
around $80 that I had
taken from my piggy
bank a few nights
back. I never would
have thought that saving money would be so
helpful. Since it's still
early in the morning, I
could probably get
some lunch at Burger
King and then look for
a place to camp out for
the night. That would
give me enough time
to...“Sally? Is that
you?” a voice yells
from the sidewalk interrupting my thoughts. I
turn around to see
whose voice is talking
to me and see that it is
my mom's old friend.
She used to have a
tight group of friends
but after she had so
many children, all of
her time was spent
helping them. I have no
idea what to tell this
woman because I
know that she will call
my mom right away if
she knows the real reason I’m out here.
“Hi Melinda,” I
say in the calmest
voice I can get out.
“What are you doing in
this neighborhood?”
Volume 1 Issue 4
“I live here,” she
says. “I’ve been living
here forever, but you
probably have forgotten because you haven't visited in such a
long time. I asked your
mother to come and
bring the kids, but she
refused, saying she
didn’t have enough
time to come. Where is
your mom right now? I
feel like I haven’t seen
her in years. Is she
with you?”
“No,” I say
quickly without hesitation. “She um told me
to go to the supermarket over on this side of
town because it’s um
bigger to get some
food. But I got lost on
the way over.”
“Sally, the market is on the opposite
side of town. Do you
want me to drive you
over there?” I ask her if
I can go over to her
house instead and
have a quick snack
and then go to the market after. She responds
yes and then we climb
into her car and we’re
off. In the car she talks
about how much she
misses seeing my family and my mom. At a
red light she takes out
her phone and begins
to call someone. I hear
the rings coming from
the phone, but she
gets the voicemail
quartet
Finally Free (continued)
which is full so she can’t
leave a message. She presses end on the phone and then
I realize that she had just tried
to reach my mom. Oh no. I’m
very lucky that she didn’t pick
up or I would be right back
where I started. I ask her if
she just called my mom and
when she says yes, I tell her
that she is in a conference
and not to call her. As we arrive at her house she warns
me that the house might be a
little dirty because she hasn’t
cleaned in weeks. Boy was
she wrong. I step into her
house and the smell of Febreze immediately hits me.
Everything about the
house is spotless. The floors
are bare, no dust bunnies are
chasing after my clothing. She takes me into her
kitchen and every last drawer
and pantry is stuffed with organic, healthy foods of all
shapes and colors. My house,
on the other hand, is always in
need of a major grocery shop
because everyone eats so
much and all of the foods are
easy-baked and processed. I
never even knew a yellow carrot existed before I came
here. I twirl my hair around
and around my finger, losing
its circulation. I’m anxious that
Melinda will call my mom to
check in again or something
but I think she believed that
my mom was in a meeting, so
I decide to stop thinking about
it. She sets me up in front of
the huge, flat screen T.V. with
a bowl of red peppers in front
of me and before I know it I’m
asleep.
I wake up and it’s 5:00
pm. Oh no. This definitely
won’t give me enough time to
find a motel. Melinda walks
over smiling and tells me that I
slept soundly for 5 hours. She
asks me if I have a phone to
call my mom or if she should
call her. “Don’t call her,” I say
a bit too defiantly. Melinda
looks a bit shocked by my sudden outburst, so I know I need
to say more. “Because she,
she told me that she would call
me first and that I shouldn’t
call her in case she is still at
work.” “Okay,” she responds a
slight bit of uneasiness in her
voice. “I’ll be right back.”
Now I’m scared. Really
scared. She could easily call
my mom again and then I
would be right back where I
started. I start thinking about
all the horrible things that
would happen if I went back
home, but I hear her coming
down the stairs and stop. She
tells me that she just spoke
with her husband and they
both agreed that I needed to
call my mom to confirm that
everything is okay. I try convincing her that that is unnecessary and that she is in work,
but she doesn’t listen. Then it
hits me. I can fake call my
mom and pretend that she
said that she wouldn’t be
home until late, and that if it’s
okay with Melinda I can sleep
there for the night. Once I figure this out, I tell her that if she
could lend me a telephone, I
would call her right away.
As I type in number by
number on the phone, I realize
that I miss home. Although I
might not get much attention
or praise, my family is my
family and nothing changes
that. Ring, ring, ring the
phone goes, abruptly cutting
off my thoughts. I end the call
and then start talking. “Hi,” I
say out loud talking to my imaginary mother. “I’m at
Melinda Wether’s house because I got lost on the way to
the market. Yeah, definitely.
Okay great. I’ll ask her. Love
you, bye.” I tell her that my
mom asked if I could just stay
there for the night because
she doesn’t have enough
time to come and pick me up.
Luckily she believes me and
doesn’t even have questions
which is unusual but fine with
me.
I walk up the stairs and
grab myself a sleeping bag
and a blanket from a closet. I
can’t believe I remember
where things go, because last
time I was here I was only 6
years old. Back then everyone was so young and carefree and mom and dad were
still together. When mom and
dad were together there was
time for everything and we
ate our meals together, sharing our secrets and excitements from the day. I miss
that. I fall asleep thinking
about how different my life
would be if my parents hadn’t
split up.
The bright sun shines
into my eyes, forcing me to
squint to read the alarm clock
on my right. 9:42. That’s a
world record for me, because
each day a different sibling
Page 50
Finally Free (continued)
has an activity before school
and it’s impossible for them to
be quiet. If I had shut the
shade last night, I probably
could have slept for another
hour or so. That reminds me
of my thoughts last night
about my life before my parents got divorced. Wow, life
would be so different if dad
still lived with us. Mom would
still have her friends and there
would be so much less
fighting. There is one advantage of them splitting up
which is not having to hear
them at night screaming when
they thought I was asleep. I
remember Sasha would come
tiptoeing into my room with
tears on her bright red
cheeks. I would tell her that
everything was going to be
alright and that mom and dad
were just joking around. However, she was old enough to
know that nothing was going
to become better and that it
was only going down hill from
there.
“Come on down for
breakfast!” Melinda yells from
downstairs. The smell of waffles and bacon drifts up into
my room making me smile. I
walk into the kitchen and see
a plate covered with fluffy waffles in syrup. I devour them in
record time, stuffing every last
bite in my mouth. After I finish
the bacon, I tell her that everything was outstanding and
that she could become a chef
if she wanted. “Thank you so
much for letting me stay here
and giving me food and shelter, but I believe my mom said
Page 51
that I should get going in the
morning because she wants to
pick me up at the market.”
“Of course,” she replies. “It was great seeing you
and I hope you come again
soon.” I walk out the door
frightened because I don’t
know where I am going. Walking down the brick steps I hear
someone running inside the
house. I turn around and suddenly Melinda is there.
“Thank god I caught
you,” she says out of breath.
“Your mother just sent out a
group email out to what
seems to be everyone she
knows. The email states that
you have gone missing and to
call her immediately if we see
you. I am utterly confused but
you must know something
about this. She seems to be
extremely worried that you
have gotten kidnapped or
something.”
I’m at a loss for words. I
never would have thought that
my mom would be so concerned about me, let alone
realize that I had gone missing. Most nights I have sleepovers with friends and don’t
even call her to let her know
because she has better things
to think about. I will come
home the next morning and
she won’t even ask where I
was or what I did last night,
but now she suddenly cares
that I’m not home. I am bewildered, but Melinda is still
standing right in front of me
waiting for an explanation.
“I uh have to go now.
Because my mom told me to
leave in the um morning so
Volume 1 Issue 4
thanks and bye,” I mutter backing away from the house as fast
as I can. Melinda obviously realizes that I ignored her question, which means that she
knows something is wrong. She
follows me as I run on the sidewalk dodging stray rocks and
twigs. She calls my name a
couple of times but after being
ignored for the 5th time she
turns around and goes back. I
assume she is going in to call
my mom and tell her everything. I’m doomed. I have no
idea where I am going but I
continue anyways. I slow down
to a walk and look around me.
There is a bright red playground to my left and the river
to my left.
Everything seems so
peaceful and quiet, just how I
like. My cell phone rings a couple of times but I reject each
one. Its lucky that I borrowed
Melinda’s house phone because mine wouldn’t have any
battery if I had used mine. Most
of the calls are from my mom
and Melinda but a few are from
unknown numbers. One was
even from a child protection
service place. The sun is beginning to lower from the sky
which is a beautiful sight. Its
almost as if the sun is a mother
kissing its child to sleep and
then leaving until the next night.
I don’t know what’s going to
happen to me, but I do know
that I learned one thing on this
journey. I am loved.
quartet
“We ran up to
the bush and I
grabbed the
briefcase. It
didn't have a
name on it.
Why is this
briefcase here.”
Page 52
The Briefcase by Daniel Campbell
It was a Sunday
afternoon in the west
side of Scranton. The
year was 1979, two
years after the gas crisis happened and
three years after the
Bicentennial. Even
though the hippie
movement was ending, it was a peaceful
time in Scranton. A
nine year old boy
John. was having his
nine year old cousin,
Mark, over for the day.
The boys were friendly
and curious. They always had fun together,
from playing ball in the
yard to creating their
own detective business. Life was good
for John and Mark.
-------My mother sent
me and Mark to Brunetti’s Butcher Shop to
buy sausage. Dinner
was always special
when family was over.
There were not a lot
things better than fresh
sausage from the
butcher’s shop. Mark
and I thought it was
great day to grill.
Warm weather, sausage and a new grill
were a recipe for a
good dinner. It was
time to start walking
and stop thinking
about the delicious
meal we were in for.
So we started walking
down the street, with
our stomachs growling. We didn’t get far
before Mark suddenly said,
“Look in that
bush. What’s that?’’ I
looked in the bush and
saw a black briefcase.
We ran up to the bush
and I grabbed the
briefcase. It didn't have
a name on it. Why is
this briefcase here.
“Who would put
such a nice briefcase
in a bush?’’ asked
Mark.
I answered, “I
don’t know, but we still
have to get dinner.”
We took the
briefcase with us to the
butcher’s shop. After
we took care of things
in Brunetti’s, we
walked home wondering about the briefcase. When we got
home I put the briefcase down in the lawn
and forgot about. Dinner was so good that I
almost forgot to tell my
parents about our find.
Eventually, I did remember! Mark and I
told my Mom about the
briefcase and she then
tried to open it. The
briefcase had two
locks on it and it was
hard to open. She
used hammer to
smash the locks.
The black leather briefcase creaked
open and all that we
saw was green. There
was more money inside than we could
count. Who’s briefcase could this have
been. There wasn’t a
phone number on it.
So as a family, we
decided to keep it.
We could use the extra money.
The next day I was
watching the news
and a reporter was
talking about a missing briefcase. “If anyone find it, please call
718-002-3451. There
is a thousand dollar
reward,” My face instantly turned red as I
realized we had the
missing briefcase!
I screamed for
my mom and told her
about the news. We
determined that we
would turn the briefcase in. The money
never belonged to us
and a thousand dollar
reward would be
plenty.
I learned
something from all of
this. If you do the
right thing you can
still be rewarded.
Sunset by Hannah Laffer
Volume 1 Issue 4
Page 53
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The contributors and staff of quartet would like to thank our principal, Ms. Gail Kipper,
and assistant principal, Mrs. Hilda McGivney for their encouragement and support.
We’d also like to thank Mr. Christopher Keogh for his ongoing, technical assistance and
guidance that has made it possible for us to construct this magazine and website. Additionally, a huge thank you to Ms. Nidia Ferrara for copying the magazine for the student
body. Thanks to all of you for being such integral parts of the quartet team! Finally,
thank you to all of our readers. We all write for many different purposes, but sharing
our ideas and setting them free into the world is a powerful way to connect with our
peers and community. Thank you for reading quartet!