top of page

Narrative 2015/16

Should I Stay?

by Lorelai Bessenaire

Pots and pans crashed against the tile floors, cursing and shouting filled the air. I slowly slid out of my bed, my feet met by the cold, splintered wood floors. I sat down at the top of the stairs and cautiously slid down, step by step, clutching my teddy bear tightly to my side until I met the end of the carpeted stairs. The thought of just going back upstairs briefly crossed my mind, so I wouldn’t have to see my mom cry… again. But, that thought was overthrown by my hunger.

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

I walked into the kitchen, attempting to act casual as if my mother and her boyfriend weren’t screaming at the top of their lungs. I climbed up into one of the kitchen chairs and sat silently; this sort of thing happened often.  When it would end, mom would get me some cereal and he would go away and hide out in his bedroom.

But, this morning it seemed that it wouldn’t be that easy, he wasn’t going to go hide this morning.

​

He wasn’t going anywhere.

​

My stomach began to rumble with hunger.  So I circled around my mom and tugged on her shirt. Then she swung around, screaming at me.

​

At me!

​

“What do you want?” Her sharp, snappy tone startled me; she had never talked to me like that before. Then he started up.

​

“Kid, you’re not wanted here. Don’t you see? You’re nothing but an annoying little bug!”

​

Little bug, I thought. Internalizing, forever remembering.

​

“Don’t talk to my daughter like that,” my Mom said. “You have no right to-”

“Don’t talk to me about rights.”

 

That’s when I stopped listening.  I ran as fast as my little legs could carry me, out of view, so I wouldn’t become a new target, and crawled on my hands and knees back up the stairs. I climbed back up on my bed, still clutching the leg of my teddy bear. I held it closer, pushing it against my chest... against my heart.

 

Two Years Later

 

The cold breeze cascaded from the open window, white flurries fell from the sky covering the ground in a cloak of white. Everything was soft and quiet. Then came a sound that was quiet at first, but continued to grow louder and louder until it was like a stampede chasing after me. That noise could only mean one thing. He was playing music and that meant that he was in a mood. Even though my heart was pounding in my ears, I got out of bed and tiptoed to the door. The door creaked open. It made me cringe.

I waited.

​

No angry footsteps.

​

I opened the door slowly, and as I did so I peeked my head out into the hallway. The coast was clear. I continued to tiptoe down the hallway, thankful that the carpet was their to soften my footsteps. I made my way down the stairs; now all I had to do was make it to the kitchen, just a short distance to the place that could satisfy the hunger that had been picking at my stomach for days now. I hesitantly continued on, all I had to do was make it past the bedroom.

​

“Hey, kid, that you?” I flinched at the sound of his booming voice. As I peeked around the corner and looked in, I saw him lying there, a book on his lap and the phone is his hand. His hair was wet and clung to his face, and even though he had just taken a shower, he still smelt of sweat and smoke. A cigarette hung between his lips and that jagged smile separated his nose from his long and drawn out chin. In spite of my fast beating heart, I was able to stutter a reply.

​

“ Y-Yeah it’s me.”

​

“Good, I gotta tell you something." In one ear out the other then I would get some cereal.

​

“Your mom got called into work early and she told me to tell you that she loved you or something like that.”

I froze, my heart seemed to stop. Work early? Mom never went to work early. But we did need the money and her shift now definitely wasn’t enough, but if she wasn’t home that meant I was alone, with him.

    

“That’s all kid, now get lost.”  

 

He continued his conversation on the phone, pretending like I wasn’t even there. I walked past the doorway into the kitchen, poured a napkin full of Cheerios, then proceeded, to fill my pockets with as many as I could fit. This time I made it upstairs without any interruption. I placed my breakfast on my bed and went over to the one window in my room. It was open and without a screen so I stuck my hand out and let the wind lace through my fingers and watched as everything got covered in a blanket of white.

​

I must have fallen asleep, because when I opened my eyes the sky was dark.  It was finally night, it seemed to be quite late, so Mom must be home. I felt a sense of relief and excitement. I rushed downstairs and my mom was home, but she was singing loudly to some song that was playing, (how I hadn’t heard the music before I don’t know) and so were about fifteen other people, whom I had never seen before.

​

I quickly snatched the phone that was at the bottom of the stairs and ran back up to my room and closed the door behind me. My heart was beating out of my chest. My fingers hesitated over the phone for a brief moment then I dialed the number that always brought me comfort, a number I knew by heart. On the second ring, she picked up and her voice calmed my nerves.

​

“Hello?”

​

“Grammie? Please come pick me up… there’s a lot of people and I don’t know who they are and Grammie I’m scared.”

​

“Okay honey, I’m on my way right now.”

    

No longer than twenty minutes later, I heard a loud knock on the door then the sound of it slamming against the wall. The music stopped and all went silent. I crouched down at the top of the stairs.

​

“Where is she?!” yelled my grandmother.

​

“Where is who Mom?” The tone in my mother’s voice was bitter and sharp and I didn’t like it. My grandmother pushed past my mother and made her way up the stairs.

​

“Your daughter Bridget, your daughter!”

​

When my grandmother reached the top of the stairs, I saw a feeling of relief in her eyes. She picked me up in her loving arms and held me tight. She carried me down the stairs and stormed out the front door, while everyone just stood and watched. My mother chased after me, screaming. “You called her, didn’t you, you little brat, you’re worthless, you betrayed me, I’m your mother don’t you love me?!”

​

My grandmother buckled me into my car seat, then shut the door and all I could hear was the muffled yelling between my mother and grandmother. After a few minutes, my grandmother had finally had enough and got in the car and drove away, leaving my mother throwing a fit in the driveway. My mother’s words echoed in my head.

​

BRAT.

​

WORTHLESS.

​

BETRAYED.

​

DON’T YOU LOVE ME?

​

“I love you.” my grandmother’s voice startled me. “You know that right?”

“Yeah… yeah I do know that you love me,” a smile spread across my face, and I felt a feeling of comfort, as I sat in the back seat of my grandmother’s car, rubbing my teddy bear's, foot on the side of my face, I began to nod off, with a new set of words echoing in my head… I love you.

​

Not one phone call… five days have passed and still no phone call from my mother. The feelings of anger and disappointment started to bubble inside me, then I heard it… it was a long hollow ring, that rung throughout the house. I pushed my teddy bear a little closer to me and sat anxiously while my grandmother took the call into the next room.  All I could hear was the muffled conversation. I knew right then that she was the one on  the phone.

 

After a short time, my grandmother emerged from the next room, phone still in hand, I put my head down and pretended I was playing with the toys. She continued to walk, to the office where my grandfather was downstairs, I followed close behind her, but not close enough that she would know I was there, and listened closely.

​

“She wants her back.” my grandmother said abruptly.

​

“Slow down, what?” said my grandfather.

​

My grandmother more slowly this time replied, “Bridget, she wants Lorelai back, and she said she is going to call the police and say that we kidnapped her...Peter what do we do?”

​

“We give her back-”

​

“What how can you give up that easy, she is our granddaughter and-”

“You didn’t let me finish, he said.”  “We give her back and then go to the court and request custody.”

​

They were giving me back? I couldn’t go back to my mother, my mother who doesn’t love me.  Later that night, my grandparents told me officially that I would be going back to my mother’s house. After dinner and a short drive we pulled into our dreaded destination. I hesitantly got out of the car and my grandmother accompanied me to the front door. Right as we were about to knock, the door swung open.

​

“Took you long enough.” She had bags under her eyes as if she hadn’t slept for weeks, and her clothes clung to her. Her tone was sharp and their was a pained expression that spread across her face, as if the words tasted bitter.

That was it, that was my greeting after not seeing her for five days, that’s how she greets me at the front door. After a short goodbye with my grandmother, my mother slammed the door shut behind me then walked away… no yelling, no crying, no screaming. So, I made my way upstairs and sat on my bed, and stared into the blank and lifeless eyes of my teddy bear.

“We have to go to the store, kid let’s go!” Once again that booming voice flooded into my ears.

“No, I don’t want to go!” I surprised myself with my voice. I knew this wasn’t going to make them very happy, but I stood my ground.

“Excuse me?! Get in the car!” Her response was no surprise to me. So I reluctantly made my way to the car, scared of what would happen if I didn’t.

My mother roughly buckled me into my car seat and then started the car. Then as we made our way along the twists and turns of the road, she exploded.

“You want to get away from me don’t you?” she said. “You think life with your grandmother will be so much better?”

I didn’t answer, there was no reason to fuel her fire. Then, she whipped around, eyes off the road, demanding I not be silent

“Answer me!!”

​

A high pitched, car horn rang through the air, my mother turned around quickly, but it was too late. We were at a red light intersection, the whole world around our car was still, as if it were a movie on pause, and we seemed to be the only characters who didn’t get the memo. The front of our car collided with the rear of the car in front of us. My head jolted forward, hitting, then bouncing off the seat in front of me. My mother, who had also been thrown by the impact, fell forward, hitting the car horn, and the same sound that had tried to warn us of an accident, once again rang out into the air. Everything had happened so fast, after my mother had found her composure, she pulled over to the side of the road and sat there, waiting for the angry driver of the car that was involved to approach her. The sirens of police cars called out, breaking the silence that had been growing inside the car.

​

​

​

​

 

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

2016

​

The loud, quick sound of my alarm clock filled my ears.  I rose from my bed, hitting the snooze button,  my feet greeted by soft carpeting.There was no yelling and cursing, just a happy silence. I emerged from my room, following the sweet scent of pancakes and maple syrup.

​

“Morning.” that calm, soothing voice filled my ears.  

 

“Morning.” I replied a smile spreading across my face.

 

After I finished my breakfast, I went back to my room to get my stuff for school ready for the week. When I  grabbed my notebook off my desk, I hit the frame that hung above my desk, knocking it off the wall onto the floor. I reached down and picked up the frame, and as I did so, I looked at its many pictures.  There were pictures of me as a baby, my grandmother holding me, a look of joy in her eyes. There was another picture of me sledding, my grandparents giving me a push down the hill. A feeling of gratefulness came to me.

​

Without my grandparents, God only knows where I would be now. I rehung the picture, and then placed my notebook in my bag. I threw my bag aside and sat on my bed, looking around my room, and thinking about how thankful I am for all that I now have, when I noticed something furry and brown peeking out from behind my dresser. As I pulled it out from behind the dresser, memories began to flood back, it was my teddy bear. I returned to sitting on my bed, rubbing the fur between my fingers, and looked into the eyes of the teddy bear, and saw the caring and supporting look that had always been there, especially when I needed it the most.

​

“Lorelai, do you want to come to the store?”

​

I looked into the bear’s eyes one last time, then pushed the bear against my chest… against my heart.

    

“Coming.”

PEOPLE "CAN" BE NICE

by Alex Lalumiere

It was around 6:00 in the morning on December 10th, 2014. (That date always sticks in my head.) Why was my mother tapping my feet? Was the house on fire? When I found out it wasn’t, I nearly punched something. What kind of school starts at 7:15? What kind of bus comes at 6:20? Why in the almighty universe did I have to stand at the end of my driveway for 15 minutes in the chilling pitch black of the early morning?! I hadn’t even gotten to this new school yet and had already begun to despise it. My own pinched-with-worry face in the mirror confirmed to me that it would probably feel the same way. They would all hate me, I thought bitterly, from my green hair to my band t-shirts and everything in between. If I had thought of it before, I would have sent a silent and desperate prayer to whatever god was up there to at least, please, not let anyone notice the hole in the knee of my skinny jeans. Even my extensive bookshelf peeking over my shoulder in the mirror couldn’t lift my mood.

 

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

After about three years of pacing, the distinct roar of the bus engine approached, as if screaming at me, “Here I am! Come to take you away to the torture room of 6th grade!”

​

You see, I wouldn’t be in this (to understate) undesirable situation if it weren’t for my new stepfather. Yes, I’d come to terms with the fact that my parents divorced over six years ago, but that didn’t change the fact that I was now at least a twenty minute drive in our old minivan from the only friends I’d had at the time. My mother told me it was better to live in a nice neighborhood and in a big house. One, I didn’t care if the neighbors were sent from God. I wasn’t about to give up the place I had lived in for my entire 13 year life. Two, we wouldn’t need a bigger house if my stepdad’s kids and mother hadn’t moved in with us. They were lovely people, don’t get me wrong, but documentaries about gruesome murders on the downstairs TV? No, thank you! Don’t even get me started on the fact that he insisted upon having shallow, disgusting pop music (like Akon. Eugh) playing from an enormous speaker that seemed to follow him around the house like my little sister followed me. I wanted my mother to be happy, but moving away from where I had grown up and only had about two friends anyway was a form of cruel and unusual punishment from my perspective. We argued over this on that morning, actually.

 

“Everyone will hate me.” I muttered. “I’m the new kid.”


“No they won’t. They’ll see how amazing you are and want to be friends!”

 

My mother could be hopelessly naive sometimes.

 

“Mom, that’s not how life works. I look weird, and people only go by what’s on the outside. Have you seen stories about bullying? Kids my age are heartless!”

 

“I think you’ll find, today, that that’s not true.” Her eyes sparkled mischievously.

 

I just huffed and stepped up the stairs to the inside of the bus.

 

The interior of the bus was a darkened tunnel of hunched shapes and sleepy faces. Even so, my anxiety was kicking in big time. Not wanting to be noticed right away, I hurriedly slid into a seat across from a blonde girl who gave me a few inquiring looks before staring out the window again. After a few moments of silence that made my stomach wrench, she whispered in my direction, “Are you the new kid?”

I just gave her a brief nod. My face felt pale. I saw her nod slowly out of the corner of my eye, thinking this information over, mulling me over. Somehow this made it harder to breathe properly.

 

“I think you’re in my homeroom,” she whispered, making me jump. I saw a flicker of amusement cross her face before resigning itself to fatigue again.

 

By the time the bus reached the school building I assumed that I belonged to now, I was half asleep. I may have been nervous, but you can’t blame me, I was used to waking up an hour later than I had that morning. My bleary eyes shot open as I lurched toward the seat in front of me. After disentangling myself from the various straps of my backpack, I jumped up, bracing myself for the first day at my new school. However, my new friend had seen me. She motioned for me to sit down again. I leaned toward her, confused.

 

“This is the high school!” she hissed.

 

I let myself blink in dumbfounded understanding. What kind of bus stops at more than one school? Apparently this one does; how peculiar. I processed this as I retreated to my seat, resolving not to make the same embarrassing blunder tomorrow. I got the notion that my feeling of being an outsider wouldn’t go away anytime soon.

 

At long last, the bus arrived at the school building I was pretty sure was mine. Judging by the kids my age snatching up their backpacks around me, I was correct.

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

 

 

Why was the driveway so long? I almost let out a moan. It was like the hallway to the gallows, every second bringing you closer to your eternal fate. The cars with identical-looking light blue Connecticut license plates in the parking lot looked like the soldiers of a firing squad. Nearly every window was without light, feeding my building despair. Even more foreboding was the fact that the bus dropped us off in the back of the school, as if nobody wanted anyone else to see what went on there. My panic rose by the minute. Deep breaths weren’t working, and I was starting to shake. All too soon the ride of willing the bus to turn around was over, and my new peers were filing out to join their friends. Every student that had gotten off the buses that morning stood in a crowd around the doors, some talking to one another blithely, others play-fighting. A group of boys carefreely tossed a football around in the field across the sidewalk the throng was crammed onto.

The blonde girl across from me waited politely for me to get out, instructing me to follow her once she had exited as well. My breath came in short gasps now, and pangs of fear shot through my stomach. I saw a few people turn to stare at me. Now, looking back on it, I can’t blame them. I was an alien in a world of people who had grown up together. An alien who found herself gazing in humiliation at her Jaws converse. I hadn’t realized they were so dusty. I finally mustered my courage enough to look up and see where this girl was taking me. I found myself audience to 3 people. One was the shortest person I had ever seen, with rectangular glasses and light brown hair. She introduced herself as McKenzie.

 

The boy with pink hair and a cheery voice was Sage, and the girl with dark brown hair and eyes next to McKenzie was Kirsten. Their friend, who had led me here, was Emilee. They all wore expensive, trendy clothes, and I noticed that a lot of the other students looked at them with respect. It suddenly hit me that I had been adopted into a group of what seemed to be the most popular kids in this school! Was this my ticket to fame? Maybe moving wasn’t so bad after all. I had a mental breakdown of excitement while they gossiped for a bit.

 

When I had finally calmed down enough to speak, they were asking me all sorts of questions. “So what school did you come from?” “Do you know my cousin Adrian from there?” “Wait- what’s your name?” I tried to answer without stumbling over my words while still giving them enough information. After a while, they got bored of grilling me and went back to talking amongst themselves. I tried to squeeze myself into their circle, wanting to be a part of the admired clique. I had never achieved this type of social status before, so I listened intently to their conversation.

 

“D’you know that girl who likes those weird books?”

​

“Yeah, what about her?”


“I heard that she’s dating-...” I didn’t catch the name.


“Ew, seriously? I always thought she was kind of cool. Well, at least I know not to talk to her.”

​

“You thought she was cool? Oh my god, she’s a total dork.”

 

This conversation shocked me.

 

The popular kids in my old school were sort of nice to the lower classes. It hit me then; I was the new kid. That’s why they liked me. That was all. Soon, they would probably start treating me worse, like they treated everyone else; like they were the pompous rulers of the school. That wasn’t the only reason I left though. Someone had caught my eye.

 

“ ‘Scuse me for a sec,” I muttered to my welcoming party, as I now called them. They didn’t seem to hear. I rustled through the crowd, gathering speed until I almost ran smack into my target. If I was wrong, this would be embarrassing as all get out…

​

She probably won’t like you anymore, whispered my anxiety in my ear.

I stopped walking, feeling waves of doubt wash over me. But my will to go somewhere in this school overtook them.

​

No. I need to do this. I replied.

​

But she’ll be mean, like all the others. She’ll hate you, think she’s better than you, she’ll...

​

It took a second, but I turned off my brain, as I had taught myself when I was having doubts but I knew they were irrational. I took a deep, steadying breath and tapped the shoulder of the person in front of me. My voice shook as the question posed itself.

​

“Rhiannon?”

​

My old friend looked dumbfounded as she beheld a face she hadn’t seen in about four years.

​

“Alex?”

​

A smile of satisfaction crossed my face as she pulled me into a huge hug.

“OMIGOD!!! It’s so good to see you!! When did you get here?”

​

“Just today.” I shrugged, seemingly indifferent.

​

“Well, you can hang out with us! I know what it’s like, being the new kid and all.”

​

Surprise and happiness shot through me. I thought nobody was going to be my friend here. Now that I didn’t have to start my social life from scratch, it was feeling a whole lot easier to breathe.

 

The rest of the day dragged along tediously. That day happened to be the date of a field trip. I knew this was particularly bad luck on my end, but I made the best I could out of it. Besides, I had someone to hang out with now. Things were looking up.

 

My new teacher showed me great forbearance over the following month or two, as she understood how it felt to be the “ new kid”. I now realize that she was incredibly tolerant of my antics until I could get back on my feet.

 

By the tail-wagging and brightly barking reaction of my dog, you would’ve thought I’d been away for 6 months instead of 6 hours. The enticing smell of Mom’s infamous first-day-of-school cookies wafted through the oh-so-welcoming kitchen. The sound of the back door shhh-ing over the carpet was like magic, finally untying the knot in my stomach. I felt bad for the mudroom, with its scattered shoes and squat washing machines. My sneakers probably smelled horrible from sweating so much. Thanks, anxiety. Those cookies were probably the best things I have ever tasted, no lie. They held no trace of Mom and my argument that morning.

 

But it finally came to the interrogation portion of the day.

My mother asked me carefully, as if I might explode if she spoke about my experience nonchalantly.

 

“How was school? Was it as bad as you expected?”

 

“Yes.” I spat, trying to spite her by proving that I was right. “People don’t like me that much. I’m the new kid.”

 

“So you didn’t make any friends whatsoever?”

 

“Well… no, not exactly. I have Rhiannon and Brooke.They’re pretty cool. They let me hang out with them.”

 

My mother smiled a bit. “So it wasn’t all that horrible?”


I sighed. “No, I suppose it wasn’t.” Darn, she had gotten the truth out of me. So much for spite. The truth was, my new school was actually not bad. My previous ideas were unfounded; people can be nice. You just have to give them a chance. I still struggle with this problem day-to-day, but this incident has always reminded me that things may turn out better than I expect them to be

You Need to Fall

by Lillian Stockford

My feet burned. Two hours in the same skates wasn’t comfortable in the slightest. After pressing the edge so many times, the side of my foot was sore, and it didn’t matter that the air conditioner was cranked up, I was sweating. I ran my hand over my messy ponytail, trying to get my fly-aways under control. It didn’t work, and my mood just got worse. Nothing was going my way.

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

“Hey Lily,” my sister said. I turned around surprised, I hadn’t heard her skate over.

​

“What is it?”

​

“Dad told me to tell you that we are leaving in ten minutes so we need to finish up practice.”

​

“Fine,” I said, but Jane continued to stand there. “Is there anything else you need?”

​

“Well if you want, I could help you with figure seven, you know in case you wanted some opinions since I saw you struggling on it,”  she said, smiling sheepishly.

​

“No. I’m fine. I don’t need or want your help,” I snapped, embarrassed.

She glared at me, before turning around and skating off, continuing her practice of her freestyle routine.

​

Was it that obvious? I knew my three turn was bad, but was it that easy to tell I was struggling? Running my hand over my hair one more time, I pushed those thoughts out of my head, instead putting my feet into takeoff position, and pushed off on my left foot one more time. As I came to the top of the figure circle, I prepared for the turn  I pressed the edge, making my left foot go towards the center of the circle. I went to finish the turn. My right foot immediately touched the ground. I sighed loudly,  I didn’t even get a third of the way this time.

​

I got off the floor and skated over the carpet to the bench with my things. Loosening the laces, I basically ripped the skates off my feet. I packed them into my bag, and pulled a pair of sweatpants over my skating tights and zipped up my skating club jacket, covering my skating dress.

​

“Ready to go?”

​

“Yeah Dad, is the car unlocked?”

​

He nodded, going off to find my sister, who was probably talking with Kaylin about all the new jumps they could land now, or their backwards turns in figures.

​

Lucky, is all I could think. They can do things like Figure seven blindfolded, unlike me. I just don’t get what I’m doing differently. My shoulders were starting to hurt from the weight of my two skate bags, so I opened the doors, and put my foot outside, ready to leave.

​

“Lily!”

​

Turning my head, I saw it was Ms. Lynn who had called me.

​

“Remember your lesson is at six tomorrow, okay? Figures.” she says.

​

I looked down and nodded slightly. The warm evening wind blew the loose pieces of my hair into my face, reminding me the door was open. I walked outside, and let the door slam behind me.

​

***

​

The smell of hamburgers and fries hit me as walked in. I wasn't that hungry, so I just walked into the hallway instead. My shoulders were lifted of the burden of my skates, the heavy bags placed on the bench in the hallway. I still didn’t understand why we couldn’t get rolling bags like all the other skaters have. I grabbed my phone out of the pocket of the bag, ready to go upstairs.

​

“Lily, don't go upstairs, come here and eat.”

​

“Not hungry Mom.”

​

“You have to eat something, at least have some fries,” Mom said.

​

“Fine,” I said, shoving my hands into the pockets of my sweatshirt.

​

In the kitchen, I heard Jane telling Mom about her new backwards figure that she learned. I grabbed a handful of still warm fries that my mom had just made. I tried to escape upstairs but my mission was put to a halt.

​

“Where do you think you’re going? Spend some time with the rest of us,” Mom said.

​

“Listen Mom, I’m really tired okay? I just want to go upstairs,” I said.

​

“Is everything okay? You seem mad,” she asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

​

“I’m fine. I’m just tired from skating, okay?” I said.

​

“You sure?”

​

“Yeah, can I go now?” I said.

​

She looked me over. She could tell something was bothering me, I could see it in her eyes but for some reason she didn’t press on about it.

​

“I guess you can, but if you need to talk I’m here,” she said.

​

She smiled, and walked back into the kitchen.

​

I stood there for a moment. Why was I so annoyed? I thought it over for a second, thinking back to skating. It was because of the figure. I couldn’t get it, no matter what I did. I just wasn’t a good enough skater, I guess.

I put my earbuds in and turned Twenty One Pilots up loud enough so I couldn’t hear myself think, and went upstairs.

​

  ***

“Girls, time to get ready for skating! Both of your lessons are at 6:00 tonight so you two have to move quickly and Dad’s bringing you,” Mom yelled up the stairs.

​

Jane jumped up from her spot on her bed, grabbing her skating practice dress. She hopped to the stairs, and I could hear her as she ran down them. I sighed, and laid my head back on my pillow. I I changed into my outfit, debating trying to convince Mom to let me skip my figure lesson tonight but dismissed the idea, knowing it wouldn’t work. She’d see right through it. I grabbed my hairbrush from my bedside table. I walked downstairs, putting my hair in a ponytail as I went. I picked up my skate bags as I walked into the hallway, placing them by the front door. I went into the kitchen, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge and a granola bar. I threw them into the skating bag, and took my phone of the kitchen counter, where it had been charging.

​

“Meet you in the car,” Jane said before going outside.

​

“Ready to go?”

​

“Yeah Mom, I’m good.”

​

“Water bottle?”

​

“Check.”

​

“Snack?”

​

“Check.”

​

“Skates?”

​

“Mom I’m not going to forget the skates,” I said, rolling my eyes.

​

“You never know, you’d probably forget your head if it wasn’t attached to your shoulders.”

​

“She’s not wrong,” Dad said, coming downstairs.

​

I rolled my eyes, but smiled. Dad headed outside, and I quickly followed.

​

​

***

​

​

The cold air of the rollerskating rink hit us as we walked in. They always had the AC cranked up high, or sometimes the heat would be turned up high in the winter. The heat was never fun, it wasn’t the best temperature for exercise. I checked my phone for the time, and saw it was only 5:15. I don't know why we had to get here this early, our lessons weren’t for another 45 minutes.

​

I put the skate bags on the bench, getting out my figure skates. I pulled them on and laced them up, before standing up and skating over to the figure circles. I inhaled deeply before pushing off and starting my warm-up figures, which took me no more than 10 minutes. Then came Figure 7. I exhaled and began the figure. I came up to the top of the circle and tried the turn. My other foot instinctively touched the ground the second I tried to do the turn, putting me on two feet. A fail. I sighed annoyed already and tried again. And again. And again. After the 25th time I started to lose hope. The same results, over and over. Nothing’s changed since I first attempted the move 1 year ago. No progress.

​

I paused, then skated over to the wall. My dad noticed me and walked over, taking a seat on the other side of the wall.

​

“What’s up Lily?”

​

The sound of someone landing a jump echoed throughout the building, the sound of success.

​

“Nothing, just taking a break.”

​

“That’s not true and we both know it.”

​

I closed my eyes for a moment.

​

“It’s the three turn,” I said, “I can’t do it.”

​

“You’ll get it eventually, it’s not easy to turn backwards on one foot.”

​

“No Dad, you don’t understand. I can’t do it. I’ve been trying for a year and nothing’s happened. It took Jane 3 months to master it, and I can’t do it at all. I’m just not good enough,” I said, holding back tears. I didn’t want to cry, I would just look like a little kid.

​

Dad looked at me, seeming to mull the situation over. Dance music started to play, the City Blues, which had been on my last test.

​

“ I understand how frustrating this must be. I’m going to give you a tip though, don’t compare yourself to others. Is your name Jane?”

​

“No,” I answer.

​

“Then what Jane does has nothing to do with you, everybody has their own strengths, and one of Jane’s happens to be figures. But you have your own things in skating you’re good at, like dance.”

​

I nodded my head.

​

“Show me the turn, so I can see better what you’re talking about.”

​

I nodded my head again. I went over to the circles and attempted the turn, only to get the same result as I had gotten the every other time. I skated back over to Dad, shrugging my shoulders.

​

“See I told you. I’m awful a--”

​

“Have you ever fallen while doing figures?” Dad said.

​

A loud sound echoed over the rink. I looked behind me to see Courtney on the ground laughing. Had I ever done that?

​

“No? I always put my foot down if I felt even a little unbalanced to prevent that from happening,”I said.

​

He looked at me for a moment.

​

“Do it again, but don’t put your foot down. Fall,” he said.

​

“Um Dad, I thought the important part was to not fall.”

​

“Just see what happens. Trust me.”

​

He seemed completely serious. I thought about it for a minute, but decided to just give in, because what did I have to lose? I started the figure, and tried the turn. I started to feel like I was going to fall, but instead of putting my other foot down like usual, I did what Dad said and followed through. The turn finished and I was going backwards, but only for a few seconds before I fell. I hit the ground, but it I was surprised to find that it didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. I quickly got up, and brushed myself off.

​

“So how’d you do?” Dad asked.

​

“I did it, I did the turn! Did you see that? I was like totally going backwards. That’s never happened before, though neither has the whole falling thing.”

My dad laughed. “ You see?. Sometimes to find success you have to fail first, and in your case sometimes to get a move you have to fall first.”

​

“I’ve never thought about it like that,” I said.

 

I was about to continue talking when suddenly I heard someone calling my name. I turned around to see my coach, Tom calling me over for my figure lesson. I skated over, ready to get started.

​

“We’re going to work on seven first, have you made any progress since last week?”

​

Home

by Madelyn Sumner

The wind blew through his thin coat like it was a piece of paper, and it screamed in his ears. He stood there shifting from foot to foot, waiting for the adults to stop talking. He looked around. The house was cranberry red with a dark blue door, roof, and shutters. The yard was big enough. It had toys of all kinds littering the front. A truck, a toy bat, a small jacket, and four bikes of varying sizes in the driveway. There was a swing set in the backyard. The chains were rusted and the wind caused the swings to sway, making it seem as if there was a ghost on it. They made a creaking sound as they moved.

​

Just like his used to.

​

“Max, you have to sign here or else the adoption won’t be able to take place,” said the guy who had drove him here. He had on a suit and looked as if he was bored out of his mind. Max could see the utter annoyance in his eyes.

 

He thought about refusing to sign it but it didn’t matter. One way or another he would end up in the same place he always went back to when things didn’t work out. But he dropped his suitcase anyway and took the pen. It was only then that he realized how sweaty his palms had become. He quickly signed it and wiped his hands on his jeans.

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

“Hi Max!” said the woman cheerfully. She had bright green colored jeans on and a thick, yellow winter jacket on. She had short dark brown hair that cut off right above her shoulders.

​

“I’m Kim Meyers, but you can call me whatever you want.”  

​

“And I haven’t had breakfast yet, so you can call me hungry,” he said while struggling to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

​

“Well, that will come but first let me introduce my husband and my daughters,” she said. Her cheerfulness was unfazed by his comment. She turned to the tall man behind her who wore large construction boots on and faded jeans with a beige jacket.

 

His ears were red and his short dark blonde hair was no protection for them from the cold. His hands were in his pockets and he was looking at the ground. He suddenly looked up, as if he could feel his wife’s gaze on him.

​

“This is my husband, Nate.”

​

He waved and smiled at him, but Max could see right through it to the uncertainty in his smile. He quickly looked down again and mumbled something about paperwork before he turned and went inside.

​

Mrs. Meyers looked onto the porch in the front of the  house with her hands on her hips. He could make out three figures sitting on lawn chairs and hear a faint conversation.

​

“Girls!” Mrs. Meyers called. “Come over and introduce yourselves,” she turned towards Max and smiled at him. Two of the girls started running.

​

The first to reach them was a girl with short light brown hair peeking out of her black hat. Her arms were crossed over her grey winter jacket and Max couldn’t help but wonder how she wasn’t cold with the big gashes in the knees of her black skinny jeans. She was studying him carefully, like someone would look at a lion in a zoo when it had its face pressed against the fence. Afraid to approach, yet at the same time curious as to what it would do if you did. Mrs. Meyers gave her a look.

 

“I’m Amelia,” said the girl. Her voice was soft but at the same time confident and edgy. The other two girls arrived while Amelia had been talking. Amelia elbowed the taller one, who stood next to her.

She was in a dark blue winter jacket and ripped jeans. She had freckles on her face and her hair was wavy and dark brown like her mother’s. She was not nearly as tall as Max was but was taller than the other two girls. He was expecting Cass to welcome him like her mother but she shot him a look of hate. Max almost stepped back in shock but forced himself to maintain eye contact with her, reflecting back a look he hoped was similar to her’s.

​

“This is Cass,” Amelia said quietly looking back and forth between them.

​

“And, this is Eleanor. She started kindergarten this year.

 

This girl had a poofy pink dress on and a purple coat. Her hair was a lighter shade than Amelia’s, almost blonde, and she had dark brown eyes that reminded him of a deer. She had a huge smile on her face.

At least one of the girls actually wanted him around.

​

Suddenly, she started running towards him. And then she had her arms around him, only reaching barely reaching his waist. Max stood rigidly, unsure of what to do. He wanted her to stop. But, he didn’t at the same time. It gave him a feeling of inclusion, like he belonged somewhere. She stopped though when her mom told her to make sure his room was ready. And suddenly, he was back in the cold winter in Connecticut, waiting to be put in the same house as the girl who wanted nothing more than for him to disappear and the girl who had given him his first hug in six years. The smell of pancake batter and bacon wafted to his nose, reminding him that he was still hungry.

​

“Can I eat now?” he asked. “Or are we going to stand outside for the rest of the day?”

​

“Oh yes! Of course… I completely forgot. We have pancakes. Follow me.”

​

The swings gave one final groan as he shut the door tightly behind him.

​

The hallway was covered with pictures.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He looked at one of them. It had the entire family, all of them in light blue, all of them smiling. Eleanor and Cass’s dresses rippling in the wind. Amelia’s hair whipping across her face. Still, their faces had nothing but pure joy across it. With one final glance, he walked into the kitchen, wondering if he could ever have a family that perfect and happy. He doubted it.

​

                        ****

​

The low hum of the bus echoed through his ears, reminding him of the beach and the low hum and crash of the waves. The seat was stiff and smelled of a combination of mildew and sweat. He could not think of one time when he had ever been in an area so loud in his life. He tried to piece together each conversation but it was a jumbled mess of laughter and yelling. Max looked around. Everyone had someone else. They all sat next to someone. He was the only lone single. They didn’t know what it was like to truly feel alone. They all had friends. They all had a family. He suddenly wished the bus would start already.

​

“Hey New Kid!” the voice came from behind. He turned around and recognized a boy who had been in his history class. He thought his name was Dillon. Next to him was a kid he hadn’t seen before. Max shot them a careless look, like he was too good for them yet he was jittery and nervous on the inside.

​

“Where did you come from?” Dillon asked mockingly.

​

The other boy laughed and added,“Yeah, you didn’t say,”

Max felt his expression drop. How could he answer that? He started to feel hot, like he had a fever. Then it turned to anger. He knew the feeling. The feeling of being at a loss of control of his body or mouth, like watching whatever was going on rather than living it. He reminded himself that he had control. If he didn’t he would be kicked out of school on his first day and he wasn’t ready to leave just yet. He pushed past the anger. He smiled cockily and turned to face the window.

​

“How would you know that? You weren’t in any of my classes. You could only know that,” Max said to the other boy, “If you have been watching me. Or talking about me.”

 

Both of their smiles dropped. Dillon looked mostly irritated while the other guy looked shocked. Dillon recovered first.

​

“You got a lot of nerve man, I’ll give you that. But you try anything…” Dillon’s voice shook angrily and it came out in a rasp. His gaze lifted from him as Max felt a shadow over his shoulder. He turned around. It was Cass. He stared at her in shock. All she had done the past few days was ignore him. It was fine by him because he ignored the entire family.. Cass obviously didn’t like him but she was going to side with Dillon? He waited for her to insult him. But it never came. She walked past him and sat across from Dillon.

​

“What do you want?” Dillon asked Cass.

​

“What are you doing?” she said it coldly ignoring his question.

​

“That’s none of your business,” he folded his arms over his chest.

“Well you made it my business when you started talking to my-” she glanced at him, “Cousin.” she finished.

​

“He’s...he’s your cousin?” The other guy had spoken up for the first time. His voice was kind of shaky and his eyes kept darting between Max, Dillon, and Cass. He seemed to shrink down before Cass finally turned to Dillon and said,”Yeah, isn’t the resemblance obvious?” she asked not looking for an answer. Max rolled his eyes at her. He was about to turn back around when Cass spoke up again.

​

“And even if he wasn’t my cousin, it doesn’t matter,” she said. Her voice changed. It was quieter and he could sense the sympathy in her voice.

 

She looked up and met his eyes. Her cheeks flushed and she looked away.

 

“If somebody doesn’t want you to know about something,” her voice grew bolder,“Then give them respect they deserve and leave them alone.”

 

He could sense the anger in her voice rising, like a volcano bubbling over the top slowly.

 

She glared at Dillon with the same look she had given Max only a few days before. “Stop acting like you are better than everyone because the truth is, you’re not.” Without a second glance at him, she stormed up to the front of the bus and sat down.

​

Max did nothing but sit there with his mouth open the whole ride home.  

 

For the first time in his life, Max Harvey was utterly speechless.

​

                    ****

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

He stared at the ceiling, thinking about how much quieter the house was at night. During the day, the sounds of spoons scraping bowls, tiny feet running on the floor above, doors slamming, the television blaring, and the sound of constant talking and laughter, overpowered any other sounds. During the night, the sounds of tree leaves rustling, the creak of a bed, and the soft even breathing of others sleeping were all that could be heard. The darkness surrounded him. He had always been afraid of the dark, but he wasn’t tonight. Maybe it was because he wasn’t alone anymore. Even if he wasn’t in that family picture, he was a part of the family still. But somehow he couldn’t sleep. Something was missing. He quietly pushed himself up and walked down the stairs.

​

As Max walked down the stairs, he heard Mr and Mrs Meyers talking quietly. He paused halfway down. He crouched so he had a view of the back of their heads.

​

“I can’t believe he wouldn’t come find him.” Mrs Meyers said quietly

​

“I know. And he expects us not to tell him.” Mr Meyers said harshly.

​

“You know we can’t though right… he is Max’s real father.”

​

“Yeah. But why would he reach out to us? If he really didn’t want Max to find out about him being alive, why didn’t he just leave us alone? Max could read the email.”

​

“I’m more hung up on the fact that he knew his son was out there, thinking both his parents were gone, and he never even made contact.”

​

“Yeah.” Mr Meyers said, barely in a whisper. “We should go to sleep, before the kids hear”

​

They got up and started towards the stairs. Max crept up to his room as quietly as he could. He jumped into his bed just as Mrs Meyers walked in to check on him. As soon as she left, he sat up, his head in a heavy fog he couldn’t seem to get through. He got up again and walked down the stairs, this time with no hesitation. He paused by the picture. Their smiles seemed fake now. They couldn’t possibly be that happy. No one could. He pushed in the door and emerged into the cold night. He started to walk.

​

Max didn’t exactly know what he was feeling. He knew he should be angry at his father for abandoning him or upset that he could have had another better life. Or scared that the reason his father avoided Max was because he was hiding something. But he felt something entirely different. He felt something perhaps he had not felt before, or at least in a long time. After all these years, his belief had worn down like a pencil. He kept trying to sharpen it, but eventually it was just a stub. He had to give it up and move on. But now, he had a chance. Maybe someone out there truly cared for him for the first time in a long time.That was why the emotion was so unfamiliar to him. He had lost it a long time ago. This feeling was a glimpse of what his life could be. He felt hope.

                         ****

He stood outside his old house. The yellow cracked paint and the crooked shutters felt so familiar and distant at the same time. The swingset in the back was gone, leaving only a dirt hole where it’s post used to be. After being only blocks away from his house for years, he had never thought to come back. There had been nothing left for him then, but now there was. It was so simple. All he had to do was take the bus yet he had thought it to be hard to come back. To relive his childhood. But it just felt like a dream. It felt good to be back somehow. He even looked on to his house with great pride.

The windows were open and there still weren’t any shades.

 

He remembered his mother complaining about it even when she knew they never would have any. And they still didn’t. He looked to a spot on the wall near the couch. It never occurred to him the picture would be gone. It had always been there. But instead of the photo of him with his parents running on the beach, it was a dark outline of where it used to be. Maybe the frame broke Max thought. He approached the door but hesitated before he knocked on it. Did he really want to live with someone who obviously didn’t want him? Then he thought about Cass. She had seemed to hate him but she was the one who had given him hope. As did the rest of the Meyers. He was going to knock. As he brought his fist back, a baby started to cry. He jumped back in shock. He moved towards the window and peered in, convincing himself that this was his home so it wasn’t eavesdropping.

​

In the middle of the room was a crib. At first, he thought maybe his mom was there too. But he had been there when she had died, so it wasn’t possible. He tried to believe that maybe this was the wrong house. But he knew the truth. He knew his house.

Down the hallway came a woman. She looked tired. She clumsily made her way to the crib and grabbed the baby.

​

“John!” She called down the hallway, “It's your turn. She’s going to wake up Elizabeth and George!”

​

Max fell backwards onto the pavement. He knew the man who had walked down the hallway. It was his father. Underneath additional grey hairs and wrinkles, it was still him. He sat back up and look back through the window.

​

A little girl ran into the room. His father laughed.

 

“Too late.” She looked around three. Then a little boy ran in. Max’s breath caught in his throat. He looked like he was six. That meant that he was born the year his mom died. His father had forgotten him. He felt like he was being swept off his feet, away from the dead bushes randomly spread across the yard, away from the flowered couch that smelled of dust and mildew, away from the black doormat he had once eagerly stood on waiting to tell his mother about his day. Away from the ghost of his old swings, away from the forgotten photograph, away from his father who hadn’t even give him and his mother a second thought. He was too busy with his other family to care. Max turned around. He felt the tears sting his eyes. He started to run. He ran down street after street, with no destination. He ran until the sun barely peeked out over the treeline in the distance. He ran until his legs couldn’t contain his weight anymore and he fell onto the snow, the coldness piercing his neck and hands. He was too tired to keep running.

 

With nowhere else to go, he walked down the narrowly plowed walkway to the park. It looked like it had sunk into a deep pit of white lava. The benches could hardly be seen and the trees were covered too reminding him of a spiderweb. He walked to the nearest bench and plunged his bare hands into the snow. He scraped the snow off until he could sit down. He looked straight ahead at the frozen lake. He nearly forgot why he was there, and when he remembered it brought a wave of emptiness. The tears dripped down his face and off his chin leaving streaks of sadness. He cried for what felt like hours. When he stopped he was finally angry. Angry at his father for abandoning him. But mostly angry at himself for doing it again. For ruining his chance. The Meyers were his chance. So were all the other families. But he had clung onto his sadness, taking it out on those who just wanted to help him. He had continued to believe that his old house would always be his home and nothing could ever change it. He had failed to see that it wasn’t his house that was his home. It was the people in it.

His mom had once been his home.

​

When she was gone, he refused to find another. He could have been happy.

​

Max swore right then that if he ever got another chance, he wouldn’t try so hard to make himself miserable.. He would be happy. Someday. Somehow. The sun had spread light across the sky and there was very little pink and orange smeared across it like a canvas.Then a scream pierced his ears making him jump, nearly falling off the bench and into the snow again. He turned his head around. His heart caught and slowed before speeding up.

​

“Oh my goodness!” Mrs Meyers said loudly, her voice echoing around the small park.

​

He stared blankly at her, at her unusually stern expression. It softened a little as she said, “Are you alright?” her voice was tired and had an edge to it.

​

“I’m fine. I’m ready to go home,” he stood up quietly and starting walking towards them.

​

“Then what were you thinking!” this time, her voice was full of anger. “Your lucky we found you! We have been looking for you since ten at night. Do you know what time it is? It is five in the morning! If you were gone still tonight, the police would come looking! You should thank them for not filing a missing person's report until they have been gone for a full day but if you were gone…” she trailed off.

​

All three girls behind their mother glared at him angrily. Mr Meyers just shot him a look of sympathy. He turned away, ashamed. They would never take him back now. Then, something hard hit him in the back. He spun around to see Cass holding a snowball in her hand.

​

“Hey!” he yelled but she was already throwing another one. It hit him on the top of his head.

​

Eleanor laughed loudly as he cried, “Snowball fight!” and scooped up the cold snow into a ball. They must have looked crazy. A family in pajamas hurling snowballs at each other in a park at five in the morning.

​

But he was home.

Right Where I Needed to be

by Abby Card

The smell of French toast and fresh fruit wafted through the living room where I sat. I watched the news for no apparent reason other than to kill time. There was really nothing else in this bright-white expensive house to do. I was careful not to touch or mess up anything, as the Franklin household was definitely the most clean and professional foster home I’ve ever been in, and I’ve been in a lot of homes. I’ve been in this system for three years now - that’s about how long my brother Jared has been in war. Every picture and decoration was perfectly placed, and everything looked like it had a certain place where it belonged.

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

 

​

​

“Except for me of course,” I said to the empty room and laughed even though it wasn’t that funny.

 

“Elise! Breakfast is ready is five. Make sure you say thank you to Lisa.”

 

“Ok,” I said, hoping she didn't hear me talking to myself. I could feel my cheeks starting to turn red.

 

Besides the embarrassment, I was still in shock that this family had their own personal chef, Lisa. I was almost jealous of myself. I missed the simplicity of Sunday mornings with my family, back when well, we were a family. After what happened, I no longer knew what the meaning of family was anymore. Before I could stop it, the flashbacks started replaying in my head, back on that awful day. I remembered the uneasy feeling in my stomach as our car swerved along the freeway. I remembered my eleven year old self whimpering in the back seat, scared as to why my dad was acting like this. But mostly, I remembered the impact. The impact that was just hard enough to kill my mother, and send my dad to prison. Chills crawled down my spine.

 

I stood up to go get ready to head up to the kitchen when the last thing I ever wanted to hear, started blaring from the TV.

 

“After weeks of being M.I.A, the body of Jared Kennedy was found in the ruins of the Syrian War. He was, and will continue to be loved and missed by many.”

 

An unheard-of noise escapes from my mouth. I can’t move. I can’t think, and I’m not feeling anything, because it’s not real. It can’t be.

 

I try and take a few deep breaths in an attempt to pull myself together. I can’t let anyone see me like this, especially them. I feel the urge to cry, and I bolt up the stairs, praying to God nobody sees me.

​

****

​

I sat on my bed, and squeezed the light pink pillow that the Franklin’s provided for me, all while fighting back the tears. Too many thoughts were swarming my brain. I imagine it like a beehive, with so many angry bees zooming around it.

 

How long has he been M.I.A? Why wasn't I aware? Why me? I don’t know what to think other than,In the whole month I've been here, I’ve never seen anyone in this robot family show any real emotion, especially crying, and I don't want to be the first.

 

I took deep breaths to calm myself down, but it was no use. I was tired of holding back my problems, and my grief. The first hot tear cascaded down my cheek, followed by the unbroken stream of more. I began sobbing, my hands clutching the pillow. There was now a dark, wet spot full of sorrow on it, in which I buried my face in, in hopes to muffle the uncontrollable howling escaping from my body. Around me, everything was gray. The colorful, fall leaves outside my window were no longer colorful. The sun that was glinting through my window, stopped shining. Without Jared, my life felt incomplete. He was the only one that cared, my only sibling, and the only piece of family I had left, and I didn’t want to face the fact that he was gone.

 

After minutes of overwhelming thoughts and muffled sobbing, I hear quiet footsteps coming towards my room. They stop when they reach my closed door. I try and pull myself together by combing my fingers through my long hair, and wiping off the mascara that has run down my face, acting as though nothing happened. At this point though, I'm pretty sure nobody would believe me if I said nothing was wrong. I looked like a mess, and felt like one too. The door slowly creaks open and I scramble to grab the nearest book to cover up my pain.

 

“Elise, honey. What's wrong?” Ms. Franklin says standing at the door frame.

 

“Nothing. I was just… catching up on my reading!” I said.. I couldn't make eye contact with her. I suddenly could feel the tears starting to make their way out of my eyes.

 

“Oh. Alright. I just thought I heard you-”

 

She stopped. Why did she stop? I looked up. The pain in her eyes for me was very visible.  It's like she knew what was going on, only she didn't. Yet, she understood.

“Elise…” She said walking towards me. I almost stopped her, but I didn't have the strength to do so. She sat next to me, and put her hand on my back.

 

 I hesitated, but her touch was comforting.

 

“He's gone” my voice quietly cracked. I looked her in the eyes, and I began to cry quietly. She said nothing. She didn't need to. She opened her arms, and I took full advantage. The warm embrace of the hug is something I haven't felt in a long time, and it felt so good.

 

“Everything is going to be alright. You have me,” she whispered.

 

I was surprised by her comment, though I squeezed her a little tighter, and said, “Thank you.”

 

She pulled away. “For what?”

 

I never thought I would say what I was about to. I grabbed her hand and said, “For being like family.”

 

Before this moment, I wasn't sure if I would ever feel content or happy anywhere, but I smiled, and she smiled right back. I was right where I needed to be.

 

I was home.

Alright

by Sarah Roberts

The wind rushed in Alexandra’s ears as she plummeted towards the ground. She shut her eyes, and the rush came to a halt as her teammates caught her in their arms. Her friends lowered her back down to the ground, and she stumbled as she opened her eyes again. The soccer field where she and her fellow cheerleaders practiced every day was freshly mowed, the grass still damp from the previous day’s rain. Alexandra squinted into the emerging sun as she faced her peers.

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

“That was alright, girls, but I know y’all can do better,” Coach Jane called from across the field. “Chelsea, you need to neaten up your form while you’re doing those round-offs, and Lena, please make sure you’re bending your knees while you catch your flyer.”

​

The girls nodded in acknowledgement, all of them breathing heavily. Alexandra fixed her ponytail, forcing her long, dark hair to cooperate as she wrapped her elastic around it a third time. The rest of the team proceeded to reform their groups, preparing to practice some more. Coach Jane glanced at Alexandra, then ordered the girls back into their routine.

​

“It would be nice if our captain would care to join us too,” Coach sang over her shoulder.

​

“Oh! Yeah. I’m coming,”The rest of the afternoon was a blur, full of flying and tumbling around with her friends.

​

***

​

That evening, after a sweaty afternoon of hard work, Alexandra and her teammates started to head towards the parking lot. Exhausted, the girls took long sips of water between sentences. Alexandra and her friends horsed around, practicing their mid air splits and rating each other one through ten, when Carrie Brinks, Alexandra’s co-captain and best friend for many years, did a double take and stopped mid stride.

​

“Hey Alex, is that your dad?” Carrie regarded her carefully, then glanced back at Alexandra’s mother’s red Chevy Traverse.

​

Alexandra stared at the driver of the car. Sure enough, there he was, watching as the girls made their way to the changing room. His warm brown eyes glowed in the light of the setting sun, and his face was unshaven after traveling what must have been at least two days from California, where he worked. She jogged over to the car, wondering what her father could possibly be doing home so early.

 

“Hey,” she said, glancing around the interior of the car. Her little brother was asleep in the back seat. She looked her father in the eye, and for a second, Alexandra saw a twinge of sadness appear, but the ever-present joy returned to his eyes as he replied.

​

“Hey kiddo! Man, you’ve gotten real tall since I’ve seen you last.” That was weird. Alexandra’s father never called her “kiddo.” He hadn’t called her that since she was little.

​

“How was practice?” he asked. Alexandra’s little brother, Sam, stirred in the backseat.

​

“It was alright. We’re making some real progress for regionals.”

Alexandra glanced over at her friends, who were waiting for her at the locker room door.

“So I’ll be back really quick, just give me a minute to change back into my regular clothes and freshen up. I’ll be right out.” Alexandra made her way back to the locker room, sprinting to keep up with her girls.

​

***

​

Sam was awake by the time Alexandra left the locker room.

​

“That was a real short half hour,” he said, as he turned his attention back to his times tables. “I’m scared to know what your definition of a long time is.”

​

Alexandra stuck out her tongue at her little brother. He was so annoying sometimes, always picking at all the little things Alexandra did. She was getting quite tired of it. Her father yawned, rubbing his eyes and face as he interrupted Alexandra’s thoughts. He grimaced as he placed his hands back on the steering wheel of the car, pulling the car out of the school parking lot.

​

“Is something the matter?” Alexandra noticed her father’s short grimace, and the way his movements weren’t as enthusiastic and quick as usual. She studied him, and he looked back at her for a second, before peering back at the road. He drummed his fingers on the wheel, and took a deep breath before answering,

​

“Yeah. I’m fine.” He looked out the window, checking his side mirror. He sighed, then ran a hand through his hair.

​

“I know you’re probably wondering why I’m home so early, and that’s something you’ll know soon enough. I just want you guys to know that I love you both.”

​

Sam frowned in the rearview mirror, then glanced at back at Alexandra.

A feeling of dread settled on Alexandra’s chest as she waited in silence, wondering where her dad’s sudden burst of sentimentality came from. And what did he mean by no matter what happens in the next few days? She hoped her mother was alright, but by the way her father sounded, Alexandra was sure that this had something to do with her.

​

Just then, her father turned the family car into their driveway. Thankfully, Alexandra saw that her mother was still alive, weeding her garden outside. She didn’t appear to be hurt, but Alexandra still worried that her mother was hurting in some other way. She had never been present when either of her parents had been genuinely upset, and she wasn’t even sure that they had ever even seen each other unhappy. She got out of the car, glancing at her father as she rounded towards the brick walkway that led to their house. She stopped where her mother was working, slowly pulling and digging weeds and their roots out of the soil in which her carrots were growing.

​

“Hi mom!” Alexandra tried to remain cheerful, despite her growing worry for her parents. “How was your day?” she asked. Alexandra’s mother looked up her, tossing a large clump of grass and dirt into a large bucket as she did so.

​

“Well, it was alright. It started with a surprise call from Charles, asking that I pick him up from the airport this afternoon.”

 

Alexandra’s mother glanced at her husband, as she returned to look at Alexandra. “That startled me a little, but I agreed on a time with him, and we talked about some other things, too,” her eyes dulled for a split second, and it was then that Alexandra noticed red splotches on her mother’s face, as if she’d been crying recently.

​

“Then I started to weed my flower garden, until it was time to pick up your father. Then he went and picked you two up.”

​

Alexandra’s dad continued up the porch stairs and into the house, lugging a suitcase behind him. That was strange. Her father always carried a shoulder bag when he visited, but not a suitcase.

​

Her mom went back to her vegetables. She pulled up a carrot, and after scrutinizing it, she gently placed it in a plastic container, and then looked back up at Alexandra.

 

“Dinner's almost ready, you know. You guys go ahead inside. I’ll be there in a minute.” Alexandra hitched her bag over her shoulder, then headed up the front steps onto the veranda, where she deposited her new sneakers on the shoe rack. She and Sam bounded inside, racing down the hallway, where dinner was waiting, still warm, on the dining room table.

​

“I made your favorite,” said her mother, crossing to sit at the foot of the table. “I hope you like it, because I made it a little bit differently this time.”

 

Alexandra’s mother was right. Spaghetti had been her favorite thing for years, and Alexandra was sure that it always would be.

Once everyone had sat down and was ready to eat, Alexandra’s mom started to scoop large portions of pasta onto everyone’s plate. Once Sam and Alexandra started to eat, their mother and father gave each other a long, sad look before returning their attention to their kids.

​

“Well,” their father started, then paused, as if calculating what he was about to say. “I guess there’s no good way to tell you guys this, but your mother and I have been talking, and we decided that it was better that you knew about it beforehand.”

​

Alarmed, Alexandra looked from her mom to her dad, neither of them offering any kind of hint as to what was next, or if this was a serious thing or not. The same feeling of panic that Alexandra had in the car ride home returned, and her dinner suddenly didn’t seem so appetizing.

​

“Now I know you’re going to be upset when you hear me say this, so please, don’t be angry with us, as we’re just trying to do what's best for you, but…” There’s a long pause, and both Alexandra’s mother and father shift in their chairs, not making eye contact with each other, Sam, or Alexandra.

 

“Your mother and I have decided to get a divorce.”

 

Alexandra didn’t know what to think. She hears her father tell her and Sam something about how “things happen,” and how “it’s only for the best,” but she’s too busy trying to process the previous sentence that had been spoken. Her parents.

 

Divorced.

 

The thought made her nauseous. Actually, worse. Ignoring her father’s words, Alexandra promptly leaned over and vomited.

​

“Alexandra!” Her mother rushed to her side, holding her upright and studying her. “Are you alright?”

 

Alexandra looked between her mother and father, her vision blurred, and for once, she didn't know what to say. Alexandra’s hands trembled as she pushed back her chair, got up, and ran to her room.

Locking the door, Alexandra sat behind it and sulked. She wanted to cry, but the tears never came. Instead, she pulled out her headphones, and put the playlist her dad had made her months ago. She listened to it all the time, but now, she couldn’t even bring herself to finish the first song.

 

She sighed, removing her headphones, and sat back down on the floor, her mind roaring. She had never thought that her parents would ever be the ones to even think about getting a divorce. She had always comforted others when those kinds of things happened, but she had never in her life put herself in that person’s shoes. Now she knew how they felt, and she wished that she had been more sympathetic for them, because all she wanted now was a shoulder to cry on. I wish I could call Carrie, she thought. But she had left her phone downstairs, where she could still hear her parents explaining to Sam what a divorce was, and that no, he didn't have to get one too. Alexandra heard a cry of “But why, Mom?” and Sam’s door soon slammed as well. Taking deep breaths, she tried to calm her heaving chest. She tried not to think about what she had heard her father say, as every time she did, her lip started to quiver. She soon drifted off to sleep, lulled by the sound of her ceiling fan.

​

​

***

​

​

The next morning, Alexandra woke to the sound of someone gently knocking on her door. She was still leaning up against it, so the impact on the door made her aching head shake even more.

​

“What?!” Alexandra didn't want to talk to either of her parents right now.

​

“Alex? Can I come in for a minute?” It was Sam. Normally Alexandra would have said no, but she knew that Sam must have taken this pretty hard as well.

​

“Sure.” She hesitated for a second, then scooted around and pulled the door open. Her brother said nothing. He came over to the wall and sat with her, staring out the window across the room.

​

“Hey Alex?” Alexandra turned her head, acknowledging her little brother for the first time since she got in her father’s car the night before.

“How come Mom and Dad don’t don’t want to be together anymore?” Alexandra sighed, grimacing as she struggled for an answer.

​

“I’m not really sure,” she said slowly. Alexandra thought for a moment. Why didn’t her parents love each other? Didn’t they care about how their kids felt? Why didn’t they ask first? Alexandra felt her cheeks burn with shame. It wasn’t her decision to make, and she knew herself that they definitely cared about her. She snapped her attention back to Sam is he leaned his head on her shoulder.

​

“Hey Alex? Do you think we’ll see Dad more now? I mean, I’m fine with being with you and Mom, most of the time, but I wish I could see Dad more.” Alex thought before answering that question.

​

“I think you will. We probably won't see him every day, but I know he would like to see us more often, and once Dad moves out, then we'll be able to visit him in his new house.” Alexandra thought for a moment.

​

“Sometimes, I might stay with Mom, too, so that can spend some time by yourself with Dad.” Sam thought for a moment. He looked at Alexandra, considering, then shrugged.

​

“That sounds alright. At least we get to see Dad more.” Sam sat up, then pushed himself off the floor.

​

“I’m hungry,” he said, facing Alexandra. “Are you coming down for breakfast?” Alex nodded, then looked back down at the floor as her brother left the room. In a way, Alex was relieved by how unfazed her brother seemed by the presence of this new problem.

 

She was glad that he was alright, as she would be even more unhappy if she had to comfort her brother, too. Alexandra really did care about her brother, even if she did a really good job hiding it. But, her brother was okay, and he took to the subject pretty lightly. If Sam was okay, then Alexandra felt that she should at least try to make the best out of the situation.

 

She would be able to see her dad more, which was a plus. She would also have more freedom between her two parents, which was cool.

​

Alexandra was still numb as she dragged herself up, and left her room. She still avoided her parents’ eyes when she walked into the kitchen. But, for the time being, she decided that she would be okay, like her brother. She was going to be alright.

Narrative Writing 2015/16

​

Time

by Allison Devolve

Click below to watch the story trailer for "Time"

I try to look through the tears streaming down my face, but there’s so many I can only see shapes and figures. The black coffin sits on a table near the front of the room with purple and blue flowers lying on top. Flowers I picked out with my mom. Surrounding me is a sea of black, the people whose names and faces I don’t recognize right now. Somewhere in the back room a door opens, and a gust of cold, thick air comes in, making me shiver. Great Gram hated the cold. Great Gram wouldn’t want me to cry.

 

But Great Gram isn’t here anymore.

​

When someone you love dies, people say you usually go through denial before acceptance, but I’m different I guess. I never denied anything. I knew Great Gram was sick, I just didn’t believe it was right to give up on her. Maybe it’s just a kid thing, for those who have never experienced the “real world,” but I tried really hard to convince Mom and Dad that she would be fine

But I always knew....

The Discovery

by Julia Beausoleil

Click below to watch the story trailer for "The Discovery"

The smell of apple cinnamon scented candles and my bright fairy lights made me feel less anxious about my first day of freshman year. The fall breeze coming from my bedroom window was making the pages in my new books flutter. As I was looking at the private school’s website, I could feel the anxiety building in my stomach. I always knew I was going to go to this private all-­girls school for high school; my whole family went, but I was just hoping I wouldn’t be so terrified.

​

My laptop was about to die so I tried to find my charger, only to remember my friend from my old school had it. I never would have thought that I would miss the kids from my old school, but I guess it’s because they’re familiar.

​

Change scares me, a lot.

 

My mother said that this new school would be a positive experience, that it would bring me out of my shell, but hope and reality are just two diffrent things.

​

Terrified. I was absolutely terrified.

Darker Days

by Cassidy Leferve

I'm not one to believe in symbolism, but the deep, grey looming clouds in the sky certainly had a way of making me believe it wouldn’t be a good day. Not that it could have possibly been a good day anyway.

 

My feet ached and my twin brother continued bumping into me. His caramel hair covered his eyes while staying glued to his phone.

 

Being out in the cold brittle air had given me a stuffy nose. The only reason I hadn’t thrown myself out in front of a car was because my little brother would have sobbed, which would have annoyed my twin, Ashton. Then again everything annoyed Ash, being the pessimist he is.


I know most kids are supposed to love their twin and honestly I do, but we were the difference between night and day.

Click below to watch the story trailer

Darkness

by Soudalath Souvanhnaphan

The bus was the last obstacle I faced before I went home and trust me, it is always one of the worse places to be a human. 

 

Yes, a yellow, metal cage with wheels made my legs go to jelly. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I don't just hate the big smelly thing itself, it's just more of the people who reeked of BO and Chanel Number 5 that I dreaded.

 

I suppose it wasn't the bus itself, it was more that I knew that I'd never be accepted, that's probably the reason why I dreaded school so much. I wanted to feel accepted.

 

Who doesn't?

​

Rushing to get into the seat, I got pushed and shoved by a bunch of upperclassmen that think they’re amazing just because they’re a few years away from the real world. 

 

Everyday I sit in the faux leather seats observing the girls who strive for the ‘perfect body’ by starving themselves and the boys who aim for success to fill their already perfect lives by making others shiver in fear.

​

It saddens me on how much I’ve changed in through the years. In primary school I was that girl that was always happy, always smiling. No one expected that by the time I had reached thirteen all of that would be hidden somewhere deep, so deep that I couldn't even find it anymore...

Watch the story trailer here

Broken 

by Laney Dunn

The pain in her eyes was more sorrow than anger.  But you had to look closely to really see that.  Everyone wondered what had happened to the bubbly, happy-go-lucky girl after spring break.  But now, she isolated herself from everyone; people just thought that she was angry, though no one knew why.

 

But she was so much more than angry when people started spreading rumors, making fun of her, pitying her.  

 

But no, she wasn’t just angry, she was broken.

 

Her eyes flew open at the sound of footsteps coming from down the hall.  Ever since the incident she jumped at the smallest of sounds. Someone turned on the lamp in the corner of the room, and she grew calmer, while the bright light was blinding her, she knew those golden brown eyes anywhere... 

​

Narrative  /2013-15


Walking down the school hallway I try to avoid all of those eyes watching, staring, judging. I clutch my books close to my chest, hoping that if I squeeze them close enough that I might actually disappear. I slither between people, trying to get by without making physical contact. Then comes the stairs...

Chipped 

by Emily Robinson

My basement is dim and open, just like yours. But mine carries childhood memories and unresolved problems. I can recall birthday parties with pony rides, a pathetic clown, and days of sand art. There were times where only boys came to the party and others with only girls. I acted like a princess with the girls, but at my seventh birthday you would have found me throwing tiny fists at a punching bag…

Then

by Nicole Credit

Watch Nicole's story trailer for "Then"

Check out the story trailer for Emily's personal narrative.

Clarity

by Karena Ayotte

 

Sometimes things don’t work out. Sometimes things fall apart and you have to start over with a new perspective. People tend to learn from events like this. They realize that they aren’t sure of what they had dreamed of doing was more of a fantasy than reality and then have to choose a new path. I’ve had many of these moments. One of these moments was more significant than most.

 

****

 

Tiny, crystalline splatters of water hit the car windows. I stared out the tinted glass, watching the world be trampled by the heavy rains and overpowering winds. Leaves were being lifted off the barren ground, creating whirlwinds of bright yellows, reds, and oranges...

Check out Karena's story triailer for "Clarity." 

It was a normal day. My 4th grade mind was naivete and optimistic without a negative thought in mind. The sun magnified the shades and hues of leaves as they sailed from branches and the bright orange and yellow dotted the ground like stars dot the sky. I was ecstatic to finally get out onto the playground and enjoy my normal lunch of pizza, carrots, and chocolate milk afterwards. I watched as many children my age ran around the grassy playground, swung on the rusted swings, and played tag in the field. The exciting kindergarten art class I was previously in left red paint stains on my tan skin that was now concealed by a light jacket...

Award Winner: Connecticut Writing Project 2013-14

Award Winner: Connecticut Writing Project 2014-15

 

Dark-Skinned People

by Bryce Bentinck

Talk 

by Emma Esposito

 

I felt him tense up, his whole body shift from a quirky canter to a ruthless gallop. 

I had lost control. 

The best thing to do would be to hold on and hope for the best. And that’s exactly what I did. Thinking he’d stop when reached the barn, I sat up in hunt seat position, half halting trying to calm him down.

 I guess the beastly animal had misunderstood my actions. He went completely off the path swerving , heading directly towards the giant oak tree standing ahead… 

 

The Elephant Keychain

by Courtney Greene

Want to see Emma's story trailer?  Click Below.

Want to See Courtney's Trailer?  Click Below!

Her softly spoken words occupied the space in the room, and I slowly tried to transform them into a memory. The most meaningful moments always appear when I’m talking to my grandmother. Our conversations inspire me to make the most of the gradually decreasing time we all have. While sitting in the bedroom at my grandparents house that day, my thirteen year-old mind became aware of the true meaning of time, all because of a tiny elephant keychain...

Award Winner: Connecticut Writing Project 2013-14

Best Friend 

by Alexis Smith

It was mid August. Vibrant leaves, children on oak trees swayed in the summer breeze, and dirt, warmed by the sun squished beneath my bare feet. My tiny, eight year old voice rang out, breaking the quiet morning that was accompanied by occasional bird chirps.

“Sadie!” I called. “Sadie, come ‘ere girl!”

I waited patiently for my 130 pound, overweight, Rottweiler mix to come barreling towards me as she usually does. I started to grow worried when the sound of rusty dog tags jangling together hadn’t reached my ears after a good five minutes.

Momma was making her way towards the garden, wheelbarrow in tow, with her long hair pulled back by a headband.

“Momma, where’s Sadie?”

Watch the Trailer for "Best Friend" Here:

The Writer's Foundry

 

bottom of page