Mrs. Sinclair our neighbor was dead. She had died during the winter of a stroke; not one of us really knew much about her except that she was sort of creepy. She always just sat in a rocking chair in her yard just watching the street. Everybody had a spooky story about that yard. Now it was summer and we decided to go into the yard that had been haunting us for a long time. As we went into the yard my friend Kirill told my brother, Luke and me the story of Jimmy, the lawn gnome.
“Jimmy was my dad’s friend” he said
“He wandered into the yard one day and never came out, but then a few days later there was a gnome outside her door that looked oddly like Jimmy”.
Then Luke started telling a story,
“There used to be kids in the house next store, Mrs. Sinclair hated them so much she turned them into flamingos and when their parents came out she did the same.”
He said that was the reason they had five flamingo statues next door. The gnome was gone though, and so was the rocking chair. The yard was covered in overgrown weeds and had a pebble driveway that was pale gray. (There were little bits of strange things everywhere.) There was a broken china pig, a plastic duck and a few fish bones with mold dancing on them. There were a few tall pine trees and a bunch of thorns everywhere. There were many statues including a cement bird bath and two crow statues. At the left of the yard there was a wood that you could barely see into. The house was ordinary except for some shingles falling off and a broken window in the back. If you stood in a certain part of the yard you could see inside the mysterious house. It had blood red wall paper with green flowers painted like there were vines growing on the wall. We walked around a bit more and found at least five no trespassing signs. We started to wonder if we shouldn’t be there. Then I heard a snap.
“Sshhhhh” I whispered.
We all stopped and it was there again the snap. Someone or something was coming.
“Run!” I yelled.
“Hop the fence in the back, go faster!”
We went over the fences which lead a group of condominiums (called Beachfront) were people rent, and the people sitting outside their condos were staring at us. We just ran to my house as quickly as we could and we didn’t look back.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
The Circle of Death by Andrew Byrne
I woke up that morning hoping that I wasn’t where I was. The air was a moist cloud. My tent was too dark for a summer morning. I sat up on my cot and wrangled out of the mosquito net. The tent flaps were tied unbelievably tight and I almost wanted them to stay that way. I reluctantly squirmed through the small opening into what looked to be an ugly day. What comforting weather to have on a day that would match. I heard Hav, Mr. Jamal, and all the other adults yell,
“ Everybody get up!”
They were replied with a thunder of groans and yawns. I walked over to the makeshift clothesline and grabbed my bathing suit and my towel. I walked slowly to the shower house and changed into the clothes I thought I might die in. As I walked back to the campsite, I almost was run over by a couple of bikers rushing to the rifle range. I trudged to the picnic table and sat down waiting for three of my friends who might my torture. Henry, Sam, and Nolan burst from their tents smiling, laughing, and were happy. Happy for what?
I said to them, “ We should head to the waterfront soon.”
We mounted our bikes, zoomed down Goose Hill, and 5 minutes later arrived at Adams’ Waterfront.
I went to my lifesaving group and the others went to their swimming group. I was the smallest in the group. I was only thirteen while the others were 16 or 17 (one was twelve but was HUGE). I was exhausted. This lifesaving course was tough; on the first day we swam 500 meters without a break. Today, we were going to be going through the “Circle of Death.” Just the name gave me goose bumps. I was scared, but the instructors were having a blast. Jared, the instructor, explained to us,
“ Today, you will be going through the “Circle of Death.” He said smiling. “ This exercise tests your ability to avoid being drowned. When trying to save a conscious, drowning victim without a guard tube, they might try to push you under, so they can stay up. What you guys will be doing is jumping into the pond, treading water, and shutting your eyes. What we will be doing is trying to drown you, 3 times. I you are having any difficulty at all, tap, hit, or punch while you are under and we’ll bring you back up.”
My stomach started to twist. Jared, an extremely fit state ranking high school wrestler, and Nick, who’s two and a half times my size, led us out to the docks and had us jump into the water.
I was talking to myself, “Should I jump in? Should I go through with it? Did I pay enough attention in the class before? Am I over thinking this? Whatever, 1…2…3!” Splash!
I swam towards the center, closed my eyes and started to tread water. I heard sudden splashes and then silence, then sudden splashes then silence. All of a sudden I stopped thinking, breathing, and moving for 2 seconds. I opened my eyes and saw a huge arm around my neck. I tried to tuck my head under and out of his arm as they instructed to do. But I couldn’t. I was squirming, loosing air, and then I tapped out. I was quickly lifted to the top and was facing Jared.
“ Are you alright?” he asked.
“I’m gonna rest a for a couple of minutes.”
I swam to the docks, breathing heavily. I clung onto the docks trying to calm down. I waited 5 minutes: watching the others, one by one, disappearing and then resurfacing 10 feet away. Then the first kid had passed. He climbed onto the docks and sat right next to me. We both didn’t say a word to each other. I was still too scared to talk. Then another, and another, and another… A line of victors started by a little kid.
I couldn’t do it.
“ Everybody get up!”
They were replied with a thunder of groans and yawns. I walked over to the makeshift clothesline and grabbed my bathing suit and my towel. I walked slowly to the shower house and changed into the clothes I thought I might die in. As I walked back to the campsite, I almost was run over by a couple of bikers rushing to the rifle range. I trudged to the picnic table and sat down waiting for three of my friends who might my torture. Henry, Sam, and Nolan burst from their tents smiling, laughing, and were happy. Happy for what?
I said to them, “ We should head to the waterfront soon.”
We mounted our bikes, zoomed down Goose Hill, and 5 minutes later arrived at Adams’ Waterfront.
I went to my lifesaving group and the others went to their swimming group. I was the smallest in the group. I was only thirteen while the others were 16 or 17 (one was twelve but was HUGE). I was exhausted. This lifesaving course was tough; on the first day we swam 500 meters without a break. Today, we were going to be going through the “Circle of Death.” Just the name gave me goose bumps. I was scared, but the instructors were having a blast. Jared, the instructor, explained to us,
“ Today, you will be going through the “Circle of Death.” He said smiling. “ This exercise tests your ability to avoid being drowned. When trying to save a conscious, drowning victim without a guard tube, they might try to push you under, so they can stay up. What you guys will be doing is jumping into the pond, treading water, and shutting your eyes. What we will be doing is trying to drown you, 3 times. I you are having any difficulty at all, tap, hit, or punch while you are under and we’ll bring you back up.”
My stomach started to twist. Jared, an extremely fit state ranking high school wrestler, and Nick, who’s two and a half times my size, led us out to the docks and had us jump into the water.
I was talking to myself, “Should I jump in? Should I go through with it? Did I pay enough attention in the class before? Am I over thinking this? Whatever, 1…2…3!” Splash!
I swam towards the center, closed my eyes and started to tread water. I heard sudden splashes and then silence, then sudden splashes then silence. All of a sudden I stopped thinking, breathing, and moving for 2 seconds. I opened my eyes and saw a huge arm around my neck. I tried to tuck my head under and out of his arm as they instructed to do. But I couldn’t. I was squirming, loosing air, and then I tapped out. I was quickly lifted to the top and was facing Jared.
“ Are you alright?” he asked.
“I’m gonna rest a for a couple of minutes.”
I swam to the docks, breathing heavily. I clung onto the docks trying to calm down. I waited 5 minutes: watching the others, one by one, disappearing and then resurfacing 10 feet away. Then the first kid had passed. He climbed onto the docks and sat right next to me. We both didn’t say a word to each other. I was still too scared to talk. Then another, and another, and another… A line of victors started by a little kid.
I couldn’t do it.
Monday Morning Blues by Eddie Merrigan
The annoying sound of my alarm clock yells at me to wake up; my groggy eyes peer open and I dread the upcoming week. Slowly, I crawl out of bed, trying as hard as I can to keep my eyes open. I shlep into the bathroom, as slow as a turtle. With my eyes half open, I squeeze out some toothpaste, and brush my teeth. I’m usually not in the greatest of moods on Monday morning either. I am about as grumpy as a crab. I rinse off my toothbrush, turn around, and turn on the shower. As I stand there waiting for the shower to warm up, I feel like I have just taken a whole bottle of Tylenol pm. I reach my shivering arm into the shower to check the temperature. If it is hot, I step in. The warm water brings a burst of energy through me, and I feel officially woken up. I stand motionless, while hot water comforts me on a cold morning. I usually take about a ten minute shower, cut short by my brother yelling, “You’re taking all the hot water!”
“Sorry,” I respond, twisting the notch of the shower to off as I speak.
After I wrap a towel around myself, I stroll back to my room. I then scurry through my drawers to find my school uniform. Once I get all my suff together, I sit down on my bed and get dressed. As I buckle up my belt I hear my mom call, “Eddie, Dads here!”
“Coming,” I yell back, as my mind begins to scramble.
I grab my backpack, and race downstairs, hoping we will not miss the train. Before I go out to my dad’s car, I whisper, “Oh shoot! I forgot my wallet!”
Again, I frantically rush up the stairs, and head towards my room. My eyes quickly explore my whole room, panicing to find my wallet. I cannot see my dad’s car but I can picture the exact expressions on his and my brother’s faces: annoyance and exasperation. My older brother and I get annoyed with eachother very often for little things like being late, taking too long of a shower, etc. Most of our big arguments start by something small and meaningless like that. If we catch eachother in take the wrong moods, it can make for a miserable morning. We will begin to get mad at eachother for the smallest things that aren’t important, just for the purpose of one-upping eachother or getting the edge. It usually balances out on a Monday morning. I will oversleep, making him mad, and then he will take all the hot water, making me mad at him too. The grumpiness that natrually occurs on a Monday morning causes us to get mad at eachother for things that wouldn’t even be acknowledged on any other day, which is good, because our arguments on Monday mornings don’t really last long and slip away easily.
“What is he doing?” My dad probably says to my brother who is a much better morning person than I am.
“He is so damn slow!” My brother most likely replies.
When I finally reach the car, my brother shoots me a look of annoyance. I roll my eyes and strap in my seatbelt as my week has officially begun.
“Sorry,” I respond, twisting the notch of the shower to off as I speak.
After I wrap a towel around myself, I stroll back to my room. I then scurry through my drawers to find my school uniform. Once I get all my suff together, I sit down on my bed and get dressed. As I buckle up my belt I hear my mom call, “Eddie, Dads here!”
“Coming,” I yell back, as my mind begins to scramble.
I grab my backpack, and race downstairs, hoping we will not miss the train. Before I go out to my dad’s car, I whisper, “Oh shoot! I forgot my wallet!”
Again, I frantically rush up the stairs, and head towards my room. My eyes quickly explore my whole room, panicing to find my wallet. I cannot see my dad’s car but I can picture the exact expressions on his and my brother’s faces: annoyance and exasperation. My older brother and I get annoyed with eachother very often for little things like being late, taking too long of a shower, etc. Most of our big arguments start by something small and meaningless like that. If we catch eachother in take the wrong moods, it can make for a miserable morning. We will begin to get mad at eachother for the smallest things that aren’t important, just for the purpose of one-upping eachother or getting the edge. It usually balances out on a Monday morning. I will oversleep, making him mad, and then he will take all the hot water, making me mad at him too. The grumpiness that natrually occurs on a Monday morning causes us to get mad at eachother for things that wouldn’t even be acknowledged on any other day, which is good, because our arguments on Monday mornings don’t really last long and slip away easily.
“What is he doing?” My dad probably says to my brother who is a much better morning person than I am.
“He is so damn slow!” My brother most likely replies.
When I finally reach the car, my brother shoots me a look of annoyance. I roll my eyes and strap in my seatbelt as my week has officially begun.
Catching the Train by dePaul Miller
There are tons of people to my left and right as the train gradually approaches my frozen body. It is 6:18. The conductor is standing on the metal steps of the train, and jumps down on the yellow line that regular commuters like me aren’t supposed to step on. The train continues to move and stops with a loud screech. My ears hurt from the noise as I move with the crowd surging toward the stairs leading to the inside. By my side is Trent Chinnaswamy; I let him go on in front of me. He walks up very quickly, as fast as a speeding bullet. I am too tired to walk, and follow very slowly, like a sloth. It is warm inside as Trent and I try to find a three-seater. We walk up the stairs to the top of the car, and sit down on the purple seat. We put our bags, both the color black, in front of our legs. I pull my iPad out of my bag and stick my black on-ear headphones into the input jack.
He asks me, “Are you gona text Port today or should I.”
“Is your phone on?”
“Yeah.”
“Then you’re gona text him.”
Trent pulls out his worn-down, scratched-up, black phone and starts tapping on the keyboard. From experience I know the message most likely says something along the lines of “car 2 top”.
We pull into Walpole’s train station, and hear the conductor say, “Now arriving at Walpole, Walpole.”
We sit there and then all of a sudden Mike Portanova (Port) is by my side. I move over to give him space. He sits down, and the train starts moving, as if him sitting down is a cue to move. I hear a feminine, robotic voice come on the speakers to say, “Now arriving at Walpole.”
I know we are leaving Walpole though, and I turn my iPad on, enter in my four number pass code, and turn on some music. I lean my head against the seat in front of me, my headphones pushing into my head. The last thing I hear before I fall asleep is “This could be para-para-paradise.”
“Now arriving at Back Bay, Back Bay.”
My head snaps up, I am awake. I look out the window to my left and see darkness. I just sit and the train starts moving. The sun starts to shine through the window. The sun is as bright as happiness that radiates through each and every one of us. As the sun warms the car up, Trent slings his bag over his shoulder and jumps over Mike and me to run down the stairs that are behind us. Mike and I give each other looks and I can tell we are both thinking why is Trent so excited to get off the train, but we follow after him.
Mike takes his bag and slings it over his shoulder. He says, “Come on.”
I take my iPad, turn it off, and stand up while slinging my bag over my shoulder. I follow him down the stairs and wait for the train to stop. Trent is in front of us, so he opens the door once the train enters the station. When the train is stopped, Trent gets off. Mike and I follow. I know it is going to be a good day.
He asks me, “Are you gona text Port today or should I.”
“Is your phone on?”
“Yeah.”
“Then you’re gona text him.”
Trent pulls out his worn-down, scratched-up, black phone and starts tapping on the keyboard. From experience I know the message most likely says something along the lines of “car 2 top”.
We pull into Walpole’s train station, and hear the conductor say, “Now arriving at Walpole, Walpole.”
We sit there and then all of a sudden Mike Portanova (Port) is by my side. I move over to give him space. He sits down, and the train starts moving, as if him sitting down is a cue to move. I hear a feminine, robotic voice come on the speakers to say, “Now arriving at Walpole.”
I know we are leaving Walpole though, and I turn my iPad on, enter in my four number pass code, and turn on some music. I lean my head against the seat in front of me, my headphones pushing into my head. The last thing I hear before I fall asleep is “This could be para-para-paradise.”
“Now arriving at Back Bay, Back Bay.”
My head snaps up, I am awake. I look out the window to my left and see darkness. I just sit and the train starts moving. The sun starts to shine through the window. The sun is as bright as happiness that radiates through each and every one of us. As the sun warms the car up, Trent slings his bag over his shoulder and jumps over Mike and me to run down the stairs that are behind us. Mike and I give each other looks and I can tell we are both thinking why is Trent so excited to get off the train, but we follow after him.
Mike takes his bag and slings it over his shoulder. He says, “Come on.”
I take my iPad, turn it off, and stand up while slinging my bag over my shoulder. I follow him down the stairs and wait for the train to stop. Trent is in front of us, so he opens the door once the train enters the station. When the train is stopped, Trent gets off. Mike and I follow. I know it is going to be a good day.
Swimming by Austin Reillly
“Let’s go swimming,” said my friend George.
George, my friends, Jack, Jared, and I walked from George’s house to Jared’s house to go swimming. After about 30 minutes we started running around the outside of the pool until the water started swirling making a whirlpool, and every time we passed the ladder we would swim under it, because it was fun. This continued for about 10 minutes until we got bored. Just as we were about to get out of the pool my friend George said,”Let’s try to swim trough two rungs on the ladder.”
I agreed to give it a try, thinking it would be easy to slide through. I took a deep breath and started to move towards the ladder. I moved as slow as a sloth towards the rung on the surface and the middle rung. I made progress when suddenly half way through I stopped. I couldn’t move forward or backwards, my waist was stuck, and my head was stuck underwater. I could faintly hear laughter from my friend George.
“Just don’t break the ladder,” said my friend Jared.
I started to get scared and started to wiggle around. Suddenly someone grabbed my arms and pulled me to the surface. As my head broke the surface I was relieved to be out of the water, and saw that it was Jack who pulled me out. As I started to climb out of the pool I turned and thanked him.
“My turn” exclaimed George.
George, my friends, Jack, Jared, and I walked from George’s house to Jared’s house to go swimming. After about 30 minutes we started running around the outside of the pool until the water started swirling making a whirlpool, and every time we passed the ladder we would swim under it, because it was fun. This continued for about 10 minutes until we got bored. Just as we were about to get out of the pool my friend George said,”Let’s try to swim trough two rungs on the ladder.”
I agreed to give it a try, thinking it would be easy to slide through. I took a deep breath and started to move towards the ladder. I moved as slow as a sloth towards the rung on the surface and the middle rung. I made progress when suddenly half way through I stopped. I couldn’t move forward or backwards, my waist was stuck, and my head was stuck underwater. I could faintly hear laughter from my friend George.
“Just don’t break the ladder,” said my friend Jared.
I started to get scared and started to wiggle around. Suddenly someone grabbed my arms and pulled me to the surface. As my head broke the surface I was relieved to be out of the water, and saw that it was Jack who pulled me out. As I started to climb out of the pool I turned and thanked him.
“My turn” exclaimed George.
THE GIRL IN THE PINK DRESS by Noah Peterson
I stood looking down the red carpeted isle at the beautiful bride standing on the alter with the priest. My palms were sweating, and I was very nervous. I was wearing my nice tux, and was ready to do it. I could still feel the string from the tag on the coat jacket and kept scratching my back. I was standing in the isle, and looking at the alter in a church while standing next to a girl wearing a dress, but I was not groom. I was, in my five year old eyes, an even more important person. I was the ring-bearer.
I looked into the crowd. It was a fairly small church, but it felt like hundreds of people were there. There were about seventeen old, wooden pews on each side of the isle and multiple shinning granite columns. There were beautifully painted Stations of the Cross pictures hanging on the yellow walls of the Church, and behind me in a balcony was the large choir loft. There were people singing songs getting ready to start the wedding and a huge organ in the choir loft playing along. Behind me, my mom was talking to the flower girl’s mother and catching up. They hadn’t seen each other in years. I looked behind me and asked, “Mom, when is it going to start?” “Oh, it will start soon.” Then she went back to her conversation, “So what were we taking about?”
It seemed like it had already been hours. If I had a watch I would have looked at it a thousand times. My fancy shoes were hurting my feet and I was ready to rip them of any second. I looked back up to the alter, and then to the flower girl. She smiled. I smiled. Then I looked away. I
finally looked back at her fluffy pink dress that had a blue ribbon stitched into the waist of it. Blue was my favorite color. I was wondering why my tux didn’t have any blue on it. Would I look as pretty as she does as if I was wearing pink and blue? I looked at the assortment of flowers in her hands and they were laughing at me. I was so nervous. I started playing with my fluffy pillow that was lonely without a ring. She finally after a long and quiet pause said, “Hi.” I freaked out. What was I going to say? I had a million different words spinning through my head. I knew what I wanted to tell her, but I didn’t know what I would say. These words had to be the perfect ones for the situation. What should I do? Should I nod, say hi, say hello, do nothing, run away, look to my mom for help, or say what I was thinking. In this next moment, my sisters and mother were listening to what I said, and would mock me for these eight words for the rest of my life. I looked at the flower girl and said, Don’t tickle me, touch me or kiss me.”
I looked into the crowd. It was a fairly small church, but it felt like hundreds of people were there. There were about seventeen old, wooden pews on each side of the isle and multiple shinning granite columns. There were beautifully painted Stations of the Cross pictures hanging on the yellow walls of the Church, and behind me in a balcony was the large choir loft. There were people singing songs getting ready to start the wedding and a huge organ in the choir loft playing along. Behind me, my mom was talking to the flower girl’s mother and catching up. They hadn’t seen each other in years. I looked behind me and asked, “Mom, when is it going to start?” “Oh, it will start soon.” Then she went back to her conversation, “So what were we taking about?”
It seemed like it had already been hours. If I had a watch I would have looked at it a thousand times. My fancy shoes were hurting my feet and I was ready to rip them of any second. I looked back up to the alter, and then to the flower girl. She smiled. I smiled. Then I looked away. I
finally looked back at her fluffy pink dress that had a blue ribbon stitched into the waist of it. Blue was my favorite color. I was wondering why my tux didn’t have any blue on it. Would I look as pretty as she does as if I was wearing pink and blue? I looked at the assortment of flowers in her hands and they were laughing at me. I was so nervous. I started playing with my fluffy pillow that was lonely without a ring. She finally after a long and quiet pause said, “Hi.” I freaked out. What was I going to say? I had a million different words spinning through my head. I knew what I wanted to tell her, but I didn’t know what I would say. These words had to be the perfect ones for the situation. What should I do? Should I nod, say hi, say hello, do nothing, run away, look to my mom for help, or say what I was thinking. In this next moment, my sisters and mother were listening to what I said, and would mock me for these eight words for the rest of my life. I looked at the flower girl and said, Don’t tickle me, touch me or kiss me.”
Turtles on The Ladder by Jack Primiani
It was a hot summer day, we were sweating as we zoned out into the TV. George Russo was among us, he was a funny kid who found a lot of things to be a joke. Austin Reilly was there too, he and I grew up together and have known each other since before our first birthday. So we always hung out in the summer. Lastly, Jared Macloud was there. He was nice, but quiet. George blurts out in the silence, “Wana go swimmin at Jared’s,” We all nodded our heads and thought it was a good idea. So we walked to Jared which was only a couple blocks away in flip flops and sandals. We hopped in the above-ground pool which I found a little disappointing because I thought it was an in-ground pool. I have always preferred in ground pools, because they are always bigger and have a deep end that you can actually dive into. I walked into the pool slowly as the freezing water made my spine have chills. Everyone was in and we got all types of blow up rafts. We were playing ridiculous games that others would find childish. We took a raft, and latched onto it and fell backwards into the pool making us look like turtles on their backside. Then George pitched another idea and said, “We should totally make a whirl pool.” Once again we nodded and agreed it was a good idea. A few minutes later we got the water twirling. We ran around the edge of the wall jumping over the ladder each time we passed it. We got the idea to do tricks off the ladder as we run, almost like a scene of James Bond sliding over a car. We were going over and under it until we thought about going through it. Both Jared and I said, “That seems a little bit too dangerous.” Which George responded, “Fine, me and Austin will go.” George’s theory was to have Austin go first, so he would know for sure that he could go through. We all sat in the middle as Austin got a running start he got in and then stopped. His head bobbing like an apple to get air, and his waist stuck between the steps of the ladder. He just barely got his head out and screamed “Help!” We were all confused, besides George, who was laughing so hard he could not help. The whole time I thought Jared was worried about Austin but he only did not want the ladder to break or his parents would get mad. He kept shouting “be careful with ladder.” I decided to just pull Austin out. I grabbed his arms and pulled him as I was slowly falling backwards. He slithered out almost like a snake. Then all calmed down and got out of the pool. We then sat on Jared’s porch, Austin was shaking, and we looked at George and he puts his hand up and yells “My turn!”
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
A Bittersweet Memory by Vishnu Varada
I remember staring at my feet as my friend John and his family went up to cut the cake that we had gotten for them. My eyes dart out the window, as I try not to witness it. I noticed a squirrel cross the street. I was as sad as Justin Bieber singing his song “Baby”. John and his family were moving to Arizona, and this would be the last time I would see him until he visit again. I clapped along with everyone else as I tried to look happy, but I felt numb with sadness. My other friends and I shared a look of sorrow before we went to grab some cake. We all ran upstairs to his room before the party was over. John would be leaving in 2 days to Arizona. We all played video games up in his room, as we talked about the latest sports, and who could beat whom in tennis. We all tried to look upbeat for John’s sake, but his dread and sorrow was apparent. We got bored and went outside to his basketball hoop. We played two n two just like old times. We joked around and taunted each other, with comments like “still stink at basketball”, and “I can go right around you.” As the party ended, one by one, people started to leave. “See you John, we’ll drop by before you leave.” “Sure, thanks for coming, guys.” My friends all said goodbye and left. Soon it was just me and him. My family was the last to leave since we lived next door.
I said a quick goodbye, and promised to return before he left. When I got home I flopped onto my bed, and thought about what to give John before he left. What would symbolize our friendship over the last 4 years? All the times that we went over to each other’s houses after school, or all those sleepovers that we had stayed up so late that our parents would make go back to our own homes. Then a thought hit me, and I knew the perfect gift. I rummaged under my bed, and pulled it out. “Perfect”, I said to myself. It was a camping flashlight that John and I had chipped in together to buy. It had a compass, magnifying glass, knife, everything. I knew it would mean a lot to him.
Two days later, I ran over to his house, and went up to his room. Boxes were everywhere, and he was packing a few last things. He looked up and grinned. “Here, I got you something”, I said. I pulled out the flashlight. He took it into his hands, and examined it with care. He reached into a box, and pulled out something red. It was a Swiss Army knife that we had used when we had gone camping. It was a bittersweet memory, because he accidentally cut me on the hand with it, but I gutted my first fish with it. I smiled as I took the knife. He lightly punched me in the arm, as I put the knife in my pocket. I punched him back. We did our secret handshake that we made up a couple of years ago, and shook hands. We said goodbye for the last time, and I walked home with the knife bouncing around in my pocket. I didn’t want to witness it when he left. Half an hour later, I saw a car pull out. I waved to John out of my bedroom window, and he waved back. I felt something brush against my leg. My cat purred, and jumped onto my lap. I pet him for a few seconds, and I looked back out the window, to see an empty street. Before I turn around, I see a squirrel cross to the other side.
I said a quick goodbye, and promised to return before he left. When I got home I flopped onto my bed, and thought about what to give John before he left. What would symbolize our friendship over the last 4 years? All the times that we went over to each other’s houses after school, or all those sleepovers that we had stayed up so late that our parents would make go back to our own homes. Then a thought hit me, and I knew the perfect gift. I rummaged under my bed, and pulled it out. “Perfect”, I said to myself. It was a camping flashlight that John and I had chipped in together to buy. It had a compass, magnifying glass, knife, everything. I knew it would mean a lot to him.
Two days later, I ran over to his house, and went up to his room. Boxes were everywhere, and he was packing a few last things. He looked up and grinned. “Here, I got you something”, I said. I pulled out the flashlight. He took it into his hands, and examined it with care. He reached into a box, and pulled out something red. It was a Swiss Army knife that we had used when we had gone camping. It was a bittersweet memory, because he accidentally cut me on the hand with it, but I gutted my first fish with it. I smiled as I took the knife. He lightly punched me in the arm, as I put the knife in my pocket. I punched him back. We did our secret handshake that we made up a couple of years ago, and shook hands. We said goodbye for the last time, and I walked home with the knife bouncing around in my pocket. I didn’t want to witness it when he left. Half an hour later, I saw a car pull out. I waved to John out of my bedroom window, and he waved back. I felt something brush against my leg. My cat purred, and jumped onto my lap. I pet him for a few seconds, and I looked back out the window, to see an empty street. Before I turn around, I see a squirrel cross to the other side.
Schenectady by Jack Foley
The backyard was a thick blanket of snow, while I sat at the kitchen table sipping a mug of hot cocoa with a wisp of puffy whipped cream swirling well above the mug’s edge, like a cloud stretching toward space without limits. I slurped the hot refreshment down in two minutes flat, so I could go romping around in the untouched white snow. My family was staying in our cousins’ old house in Schenectady, New York. The indoor temperature was struggling to surpass 55ยบ Fahrenheit, so everyone fashioned flannel pajamas; nobody ever wandered far from a hot drink.
“Brianna! Meghan!” I called out to my sisters. “Adam! Alex!” I summoned my cousins as well. “I got an idea!”
Brianna trudged in first, apparently displeased to be awake at this time of morning. She wore red and white flannel pajamas and her bed head flopped and bounced behind her. “Why did you have to scream it?” she said drowsily.
“I didn’t have to,” I retorted and smirked at her above my mug.
Meghan, Adam, and Alex walked into the room as Brianna asked, “What’s your brilliant plan?”
I explained to them my plan of bounding up and down on the trampoline in their backyard. On it lay pounds of fluffy snow, so when we would bounce on it, snow would go flying. All of us agreed to participate in this, so we found our snow pants and our parkas and pulled them on over our pajamas. We added earmuffs, laced up our boots, and we were off.
Meghan and I took off for the trampoline, while the other three lagged behind, complaining about the cold. Eventually, we had all reached the trampoline. With one last look back at our boot prints, I turned and sparked the bouncing. As I had planned, snow flew up toward the sky and glittered in the mid-morning sun. We giggled hysterically, unable to cease.
It was a beautiful moment, just my cousins and I sharing a good, long laugh at a house in Schenectady that is now somebody else’s, in a backyard where all the snow has melted, on a trampoline that is hardly used these days.
“Brianna! Meghan!” I called out to my sisters. “Adam! Alex!” I summoned my cousins as well. “I got an idea!”
Brianna trudged in first, apparently displeased to be awake at this time of morning. She wore red and white flannel pajamas and her bed head flopped and bounced behind her. “Why did you have to scream it?” she said drowsily.
“I didn’t have to,” I retorted and smirked at her above my mug.
Meghan, Adam, and Alex walked into the room as Brianna asked, “What’s your brilliant plan?”
I explained to them my plan of bounding up and down on the trampoline in their backyard. On it lay pounds of fluffy snow, so when we would bounce on it, snow would go flying. All of us agreed to participate in this, so we found our snow pants and our parkas and pulled them on over our pajamas. We added earmuffs, laced up our boots, and we were off.
Meghan and I took off for the trampoline, while the other three lagged behind, complaining about the cold. Eventually, we had all reached the trampoline. With one last look back at our boot prints, I turned and sparked the bouncing. As I had planned, snow flew up toward the sky and glittered in the mid-morning sun. We giggled hysterically, unable to cease.
It was a beautiful moment, just my cousins and I sharing a good, long laugh at a house in Schenectady that is now somebody else’s, in a backyard where all the snow has melted, on a trampoline that is hardly used these days.
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