If Not Here, Then Where

“It is easier to imagine the end of the world than it is to imagine the changes necessary to save it.”

Why is that?

The book you hold in your hand is the result of the continued partnership among 826LA, Paramount Pictures, and Students in the Cinematic Arts & Creative Technologies Magnet Center at Helen Bernstein High School. Through the Kindergarten to Cap & Gown program, employees from Paramount Pictures have provided more than 10,000 hours of mentoring to 500 students at Helen Bernstein High School, Le Conte Junior High School, and Santa Monica Boulevard Community Charter School and STEM Academy over the last 10 years.

Working through lessons designed and led by 826LA, students wrote stories of utopian memoirs—memories of a perfect place or moment in time, of utopian advocacy— arguments for improving or protecting places sacred to them, and finally utopian fiction—descriptions of yet-to-be-realized ideal places.

In their acts of remembering, of advocating, and of envisioning, these stories are templates for reclaiming the past, critiquing the present, and ensuring the future. And in writing them, these student authors ultimately challenge the idea of a “natural order,” that there are no alternatives to the way things are. In the words of the late British cultural theorist Mark Fisher, these stories, “reveal what is presented as necessary and inevitable to be a mere contingency [and] what was previously deemed to be impossible seem attainable.”

and

826LA.ORG

This book was written by students in the Cinematic Arts & Creative Technologies Magnet Center at Helen Bernstein High School as part of Paramount Pictures’ Kindergarten To Cap & Gown program in 2024.

The views expressed in this book are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect those of 826LA. We support student publishing and are thrilled you picked up this book.

Las opiniones expresadas en este libro son las de los autores y no reflejan necesariamente las de 826LA. Apoyamos la publicación de jóvenes autores y estamos felices que haya recogido este libro.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher.

Editors:

Natalie Castro

Naomi Escobar

Mike Dunbar

Cover Artwork:

Anthony Garcia

Rachel Mendelsohn

Book Design:

Rachel Mendelsohn

IF NOT HERE, THEN WHERE?

Written by the students of the Cinematic Arts & Creative Technologies Magnet Center AT HELEN BERNSTEIN HIGH SCHOOL SPRING 2024

PAST PERFECT

FUTURE

“IT IS EASIER TO IMAGINE THE END OF THE WORLD THAN IT IS TO IMAGINE THE CHANGES NECESSARY TO SAVE IT.”

Why is that?

INTRODUCTION

Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines utopia both as “a place of ideal perfection especially in laws, government, and social conditions” and “an imaginary and indefinitely remote place.” Over the course of this school year, students from the Cinematic Arts & Creative Technologies Magnet Center at Helen Bernstein High School and their mentors from Paramount Pictures explored both aspects of this concept, analyzing and interrogating examples of utopias from popular culture as varied as Sir Thomas More’s novel Utopia and the musical genre of Vaporwave.

It was a theme that made some uncomfortable. There were tense debates about whether such a concept was problematic, or even relevant at all. Some claimed that perfection itself was an impossible ideal, and that there had never been, and would never be, a “real” utopia. Yet, within every struggle there is the potential for unpredictable creativity.

When challenged to write stories on the theme of utopia, it is fair to say that what the students chose to write about was anything but predictable. They elegized the utopias of lost youths, lost friendships, and lost childhood homes. They praised and defended the utopias of

their heritage, of the natural world, and of having a space they could call their own. Finally, they envisioned never before imagined utopian worlds, some set in the future, some in alternative histories and timelines to our own.

What should not be surprising, though, is that in these stories, utopia is not found in laws, or governments, or indefinitely remote places. For these student authors, it is much closer to home, literally. They find utopia in the values of their cultures and communities, of their friendships and families, and even their passions, whether in the forms of ardent advocacy or romantic adventure.

In their acts of remembering, of advocating, and of envisioning, these stories are templates for reclaiming the past, critiquing the present, and ensuring the future. And in writing them, these student authors ultimately challenge the idea of a “natural order,” that there are no alternatives to the way things are. In the words of the late British cultural theorist Mark Fisher, these stories, “reveal what is presented as necessary and inevitable to be a mere contingency [and] what was previously deemed to be impossible seem attainable.”

Therein lies the power of imagination. It gives us the capacity to transcend the bounds of the known ang glimpse the forward dawnings of new horizons. Through their stories, these student authors have imagined beyond what is, and in doing so, they have imbued new possibilities into what will be.

What these stories show is that the potential—or rather potentials—for utopia have always existed, do exist now, and will always exist. As long as we know where to look for them.

It may not be here. Not yet anyway. But it could be. And if not here, then where?

—Mike Dunbar, May 3, 2024

PAST PERFECT

JASMINE BREW

SASHA KRAVETS

Joseph rocked back and forth in his rocking chair on the porch. The sun was setting and the busy streets of San Francisco were illuminated by rose-gold sunlight. Joseph slowly sipped jasmine tea from a white jasmine-covered mug. The tea burned his tongue a bit but then left a soft sweetness of honey and jasmine flowers in his mouth. The tea was good, but it didn’t compare to the amazing brew of Margery, his wife. He missed Marge and the special taste she was able to conjure from the same ingredients. Joseph had tried his best to recreate it after her passing but fell short of her skills. The special recipe of tea and adoration of anything jasmine was one of the only things he had left as a living physical memory of her, something special they had both shared from the moment they met.

In recent months, Joseph had begun to develop a depression and it was creeping more and more into his life, making his monotonous routine harder and harder to repeat. Wake up. Make breakfast. Fail to go for a walk. Take a nap. Fall asleep in front of the TV. Wake up with back pain. Start over again.

Tonight he wanted to break free from that cage and make a change in his day-to-day life. Get out of the gloomy house and spend the night reminiscing about the years of his youth. He remembered when he and Marge had just started going out, sweet and innocent love. Spending time every day together. Late nights spent dancing at a diner until they were kicked out, and continuing their dancing spree throughout the streets, singing the hit songs that played on the radio in those years, anything from Chuck Berry to Frank Sinatra. He missed the freedom that he felt with Marge, and even in the years before her death when neither of them would stay up past nine, he still felt that youthful happiness as if he was 25 again running down Washington Street in the rain, dragging Marge after him and laughing as they sped down the sidewalk.

Joseph wanted to feel that way again. He wanted to feel young, happy, and not alone. He grabbed his jacket, put on his most comfortable shoes (since he was still an old man even if he wanted to feel younger than his years), and set out onto the emptying evening streets. The sun was setting, bringing twilight onto the street adjacent to his house, as he started walking in the direction of the restaurants. As he was walking, he began to feel nervous. He was known as a quiet, unpretentious man in his neighborhood, especially after Marge’s death. People constantly checked in on him to make sure he was still alive or just to pity him. What would people think of this? What would they think of the man they were used to feeling sorry for partying in a bar alongside them on a random Friday in the middle of April? It’s not like he would party the entire night or try to find a date. And with whom? He was more than sure that there was no one other than Marge that he could even think of romantically, and definitely not take anyone on a date night spree.

He lived in the financial district of San Francisco and once he reached Jackson Street, he could see all the restaurants stacked on restaurants, ranging from Greek to Asian to Italian cuisines, with random bars, pubs, and even “Irish saloons” sprinkled in between.

After living in San Francisco his whole life, Joseph was still surprised every single time he saw the mix of cultures right next to each other, a diverse community living in peace. Lights were shining neon colors from all sides and even more lights were hanging from one side of the street to the other, adding more warmth and illumination to already brightening roads.

Joseph walked downhill past the Stinking Rose, a restaurant always packed with people. Right next door to it was The Mona Lisa, with three people inside on a good day. Tourists always chose the Stinking Rose, not knowing the underrated gem that was The Mona Lisa, leaving it free for the locals who knew. He walked inside and was seated by Gio, one of the waiters he knew from the days of Marge and him treating themselves to dinner. To his surprise, Joseph’s stomach was growling and he was hungry enough to eat half the menu. He decided to order gnocchi alfredo, bruschette, tiramisu, and some jasmine tea. The food was amazing as usual and took Joseph a little over an hour and a half to finish. The buttery gnocchi was mixed in a traditional parmesan sauce, falling apart in his mouth. The bruschetta had creamy burrata cheese, pickled tomatoes, and olives on a crunchy baguette, mixing together textures of creaminess and crunch with the saltiness and freshness of the cheese and vegetables. And lastly, the tiramisu was splendid. The layers of cream and coffeesoaked lady fingers melting in his mouth with a slight crunch. The tea was not perfect. It was over brewed and too sweet for Joseph’s liking, but still satisfactory.

At this point, it was already 9:45 PM and he decided to spend some more time out. Further down the street, bars were just opening and were welcoming the younger, hard-working people to relax as the weekend began. Joseph was not planning on sticking to his bedtime, and decided he might as well stay out and enjoy himself. He passed by the busiest bar on the street, with music pouring out the windows and people falling out of the doorway. Despite the busyness of the first bar, the one right next door was practically deserted with just a

single bartender cleaning a glass for the hundredths time and a man sitting in the corner on one of those new computers the youngsters used. Joseph was always perplexed by how they worked but was never interested enough to learn to use one. He slowly walked into the empty bar, trying to ignore the slight ache in his back and sat at the bar.

The young bartender noticed him and lit up at the prospect of a new customer. Joseph made a mental note that he was probably too inexperienced to understand that an old man wouldn’t order whatever he would try to push on him. The young fellow wiped his hands on the towel and rushed over to where Joseph was sitting with a shy but still bright smile on his face. He looked to be in his early 20s with blond curls, bright green eyes, a kind smile, and freckles. He looked like the embodiment of a happy puppy.

“Welcome in! What can I get you today, sir? We’ve got a wide selection of drinks and cocktails and anything your heart desires!” he said cheerfully.

Joseph talked to the bartender. He told him he didn’t want anything fancy, just water. He tried to get to know the young bartender, but he was now unenthusiastic and made it obvious. Joseph then tried to start a conversation with the man in the corner and was completely ignored. In his frustration, he stormed out into the street.

He stood there contemplating what to do next and decided that he needed to let go of his shyness and went over to the busy bar. Inside, everyone was talking and singing and laughing, people of all different ages. He was surprised when people at the entrance a little younger than him noticed him and welcomed him into the bar. They started having a confusing conversation about random songs and food and things that were happening in the bar. He started to feel like he was having fun but noticed an unease in his stomach.

He sat down in the corner with a huge milkshake, an ice cream sundae, and fries. He wasn’t planning on buying more food, especially

this unhealthy and not as enjoyable as the food at the Mona Lisa, but his new acquaintances convinced him to order before disappearing into the crowd. He spent what felt like an hour at best in the bar, feeling a bit disoriented from all the noise and mess happening around him. He looked at his watch and realized that since his Mona Lisa dinner a little over three hours had passed. How could he have spent three hours in this random loud bar? It felt nothing like what he would do! What a ridiculous situation!

But then he remembered the night Marge had dragged him to a dance party. It was a late July night. The city was humid, and it felt like he was breathing in moisture from the ocean. They went into what seemed to be a presentable restaurant with respectable people dancing and enjoying their meals, but in the corner, peers their age were rushing down into the basement. That was the excitement Marge was looking for, the celebration that one of her friends told her about. They both rushed into the basement of the restaurant and found themselves in the middle of a similarly exhilarating and confusing excitement and rush that he was in right now. They danced all night, twisting and turning, and only came out at dawn. The memory sparked a rush of energy, but it was crushed by the weighing realization that he was not as young as he once was. He was a tired old man whose wife died. An old man with a dead wife.

He got up from the corner table and pushed his way through the crowd, clawing his way through to the door. He felt as if he was suffocating, all the sweaty bodies around him crushing down on his shriveled old body. It felt like they didn’t want him to get out at all but stay stuck in the little establishment. He pushed through and finally got to the door. He realized how much force he put into trying to escape the bar when he fell out onto the concrete. He sat in the middle of the street shaking for a few moments.

Suddenly he felt his stomach give a worrisome rumble and he immediately knew he needed to find a trash can. He ran down the street as best as he could with his old joints and turned a sharp corner

when he saw one of the big green recycling cans. He threw the lid open and puked out everything he had eaten in the past four hours. Joseph couldn’t bear to be seen sitting right by where he had just littered with his puke so he walked away further down the street. He was now in Chinatown, and a lot of the restaurants were still open. He sat down on the sidewalk and tried to recover.

Joseph needed to get water and wash his hands and mouth.

Since a lot of the street stores were open 24/7 he walked into the nearest one and bought water. The cashier eyed him up and down with disdain but didn’t say a word other than, “It will be $1.50.” and “Would you like a bag?” Joseph was shaking so much he couldn’t recall what he said exactly, but he probably murmured something incoherent. He walked out into the street, the cold night air sending chills down his spine.

Joseph took a sip of water, swished it around in his mouth, and spit it onto the sidewalk. He did that a couple more times, the water cold in his mouth. He then poured some water onto his hands. It felt as if he had stuck his hands into a bucket of ice and it made his frail fingers shake. After just throwing up, Joseph felt a strange confusion in his head, the lights of the stores were as bright as hospital lights, leaving green spots in his vision. He was disoriented and somewhat out of breath after having to run to the trash bin and felt a tightness in his chest.

Joseph hadn’t done any sort of cardio exercise in ages, having stopped working out at least 20 years ago, getting lazier and more tired as time went on. Joseph sat on the sidewalk for a little while more with the mostly empty water bottle and finally decided to walk to the beginning of Chinatown for a change of scenery and a more comfortable place to rest before going home. He slowly made his way in that direction. Passing the trash can he threw up in, he saw the shop owner walk towards it to dispose of some trash. Joseph started walking faster, feeling his face go from cold to suddenly red and very hot.

As he walked further, behind him he heard the shop owner open the bin and curse at whoever threw up into it, stringing together a loud line of curses in both English and Mandarin, interchanging one and the other. Joseph slowed his pace as he got closer to the little temple that in recent years had become a sanctuary for many homeless people during the day. He walked towards one of the benches, passing the small fountain.

He stopped in between the fountain and bench and observed the little paper ship floating in the water. He stepped forward to take a closer look and saw his own reflection in the dark water. Joseph looked more tired and old than he thought he did, only seeing traces of his young face in the sagging features now. He smashed the water, sending the little paper boat floating away and went to the bench. He closed his eyes for a moment and began to remember the spring walk in the park he had taken with Marge. The trees were newly green and some even had different colored flowers blossoming from them in the fresh spring air.

He and Marge walked hand-in-hand, just newly married, planning their life together. They sat down on the edge of a random park fountain and looked into the water, their young faces staring back. Marge took out a piece of paper, some advertisement she got for jasmine seeds being sold someplace by the bay, and began folding it into a little paper boat.

She placed the boat onto the water and said, “That little lifeboat will represent our life, it’ll float and float and float, and as we get older it’ll float slower and eventually sink with us.”

Joseph was caught off-guard. “That seems a little gloomy for our lives just beginning.”

“Maybe,” replied Marge. “But that’s the reality of our world. We all have to sink eventually.”

Joseph opened his eyes with a start. He heard random yelling and dogs barking from somewhere in the distance. He was exhausted and realized he had fallen asleep. He checked his watch and realized

that it was already 5:30 AM. He couldn’t believe that he had slept for so long on a bench in the middle of the city and didn’t get killed, kidnapped, or robbed. No one was interested in an old man passed out on a bench. He was sleepy and disoriented and decided he needed to go home.

He got up and started walking. He felt pain in his knees and feet, emptiness in his stomach, and his back was sore from the bench. He was cold, frustrated, and felt worse than he did before he left his house. It was a horrible idea, why did he even do it? He would probably be sick tomorrow and for the next week, knowing his poor immune system. In more recent years when he and Marge were older and he would get sick, he recalled how she would always take care of him. Anytime he was sick, their house would smell of cookies, homemade jam, and jasmine tea. Marge always knew how to take care of him and he knew how to take care of her. She was the most amazing thing that had ever happened to him and he made sure she knew it every day until the very end.

Joseph was so focused on his complaining and reminiscing of the years with Marge that he didn’t realize where he was going.

His legs took him not to his house but to the cemetery. At first he was confused but realized that he felt at peace there. He walked toward a stone on top of the hill that was surrounded by blooming jasmine bushes. He carefully kneeled down and grabbed two jasmine blossoms. He breathed in the smell and put one of them onto the stone, right by the inscription: “Margery Fitz: 1940-2024. You were the best thing to ever happen to anyone lucky enough to meet you.”

Joseph leaned on the tombstone with Marge’s photo, closed his eyes, and put the jasmine blossom into his mouth.

He drifted off into sleep one last time, with his utopia and true love by his side, as the sun rose with rays of light illuminating a new day.

Sasha Kravets is a young and ambitious student. She has many interests like art and writing, and through her crafts wants to change the world. She’s not afraid of saying her opinion and defending what is right.

DULCE

NATHALI N.

Dulce was a girl who was more than a friend to me; she was my other half. She was the sweetest yet strongest person I ever met. I met her at just 4 years old, and she was shy and quiet. I decided to befriend her, not realizing that once I started talking to her, my friendship would make her feel more confident. She would bloom to be the most adventurous and extroverted girl I had yet to meet and understand.

Dulce, meaning “candy” in English, was a nickname given to her by her family because she was a sweet child. As time progressed, we bonded more and hung out more to the point where we forgot we had our own homes. During our time together, we would go places: the beach, the park, theaters, and even Universal Studios. Dulce lived near the beach, which is where we spent most of our time. It was the best time. Running in the sand, playing in the water, and building sand castles. We seemed to never get bored of the beach and always found a way to entertain ourselves there. There is, however, one memory that will stick with me until the end.

When I was seven, I got the best and most amazing news of my life! Dulce, my now close friend, had bought me a Universal Studios ticket. As soon as I heard, I immediately told my parents. Of course, they said I could go since her family was going too. When we got

there, I was so excited I felt like throwing up! Immediately, Dulce and I went straight to the rides. We rode rides until late that night. My favorite rides were Jurassic World and the Mummy ride. I felt adrenaline like I never felt before. I had butterflies in my stomach. They made me feel free and like a child. Of course, the ticket was for one day and the day ended pretty fast. As much as I was sad that it ended, I was also happy because my first time at the theme park was with my best friend.

But of course, children grow, and growing apart happens as well…

As I said before, Dulce was a sweet girl, but being a sweet girl also meant obeying your parents. Although I loved her parents like mine, they had plans for her and those plans didn’t involve me. As time progressed and we grew, our childhood church where we met crumbled (not literally). Our pastor moved the location of the church to a place far from where I lived but which was close to Dulce. As time went on and we continued on with life, we noticed we hadn’t seen or played together for a while, so we decided to have a sleepover at her place.

When the day came I had butterflies in my stomach, but I didn’t know why. I’d had sleepovers at Dulce’s previously, but this time it felt different. This time the butterfly feeling felt like worry, not excitement. So I decided not to go. She was sad, as I was, because part of me did want to go, but I didn’t like it. It’s hard to explain, but it felt as if I was going to a place I didn’t know and didn’t want to go. When I mentioned this to my mom, she told me it was because I was growing and I was starting to realize more about myself. At the time, I didn’t understand, but now I do.

After that time, we saw each other from time to time as we were still close. She had mentioned many times that she was going to move away but never did. She had been saying it for years, so I didn’t think much of it when she said she was moving to Indianapolis. The day she told me, we hadn’t seen each other in a long time, and I had accepted

she was busy or her parents didn’t have time anymore since they were the ones who drove me around, picked me up, and took me home. By this time, my family and I had settled into a new church. I will remember this like it was yesterday. She came to the church. I didn’t know she was coming, so when I saw her walk in with her parents, I was happy and excited because it had been almost a year since I last saw her. We talked, but the atmosphere was off. It felt very awkward like we had never been friends and it was our first time talking. I brushed it off and we soon got comfortable again. It was around 9 PM and we knew we were about to leave because church service was ending and that’s when she told me…

She said, “Nathali, I have been wanting to tell you, but couldn’t since I don’t have a phone and my mom has been busy using hers. I’m moving and this time it’s for real.”

When I heard this, I was devastated that my longest best friend was leaving and this time for good. This broke me. She was my other half and she seemed devastated too, since I noticed that after she told me she looked down at the floor. Her little brother was also there when this happened and it was hard to realize that we wouldn’t grow together anymore and I wasn’t going to see her family. They were like my family too. But of course, she was a young girl, still a child, meaning moving away wasn’t a decision she could oppose. After that week, she came one last time to church and that was our last goodbye and our last time seeing each other. To this day, I still see her posts on her social media. We follow each other and occasionally we talk, but nothing important. As much as it hurts to see your favorite person leave, I did learn a valuable lesson about friendship.

Some friendships come to an end, but some leave a lesson, and those lessons give you the strength to get out there and meet new great people who will make great new memories with you. I will always be grateful to her and her family for those memories.

Gracias Dulce, por todo.

Nathali is a young high school student getting ready for the world and that likes a simple life. One thing she has learned so far is history is written by the survivors.

MY HAPPIEST MEMORY

DAYRA C.M.

One night, my mom and dad told me to sit down on the couch. I thought I was in trouble, but it turns out, they had news for me. The news was that we were going to Disneyland with my cousins, and it made me happy because it meant I could miss school. She had told me a week in advance. The week felt so long, and I was getting impatient from all the waiting.

The day finally arrived, and I couldn’t be happier. My mom set out my Disney clothes: a princess Ariel shirt with matching shorts and shoes. After putting on my clothes, my mom did my hair in a ponytail and put a bow in it. When we were done, we went to pick up my cousins and get McDonald’s for the ride.

During the car ride there, we were eating and talking about what we were going to do once we got to Disneyland. We pulled into the parking lot and got to the Daffy Duck section. Since we got a section in the middle, we had to take escalators down to the trams. The trams

were crowded, so it took us a while to get on one.

After getting off the trams, we walked to the Disneyland entrance. We walked through the ticket turnstile, and I immediately saw the flower garden with Mickey’s face on it, which we took a picture in front of. On our way inside, we saw Minnie Mouse and took a picture with her before continuing our way to Main Street. When I first saw Main Street, I was fascinated by how lively the stores were and how decorated it was. I was so happy that I almost got separated from my mom. After passing the stores, I saw the Walt Disney and Mickey statue. At the time, I didn’t know who Walt Disney was, but seeing Mickey up there made me think Walt Disney was his human dad. After passing the statue, we arrived at Sleeping Beauty’s castle, but unfortunately, we didn’t go through it. We took the other way, which was on the side of the castle because my mom said it was less crowded.

Our first destination was Fantasyland. My older cousin and I wanted to ride the teacups, so we got in the long line. While we were waiting, my cousins and I played a game where we would guess which teacup would stop in front of us, and when we finally got closer to the front of the line, we were deciding which teacup would be our first choice. Once we were able to go in, we ran to the teacup that was our first choice. As soon as we got on, we put our hands on the wheel that made it spin faster. My mom was holding on to the edge of the teacup because of how fast we made it go, and my dad was near the exit of the ride, laughing and recording us. After we got off the teacup, we were all a bit dizzy, but we had a fun time.

Moments later, we exited Fantasyland and entered Tomorrowland. The first ride I saw was the Astro Orbiter, which at the time I thought was a similar ride to the teacups. It was not at all like the teacups. I was with my mom, and my dad was with my younger cousin while my older cousin rode alone. I was so excited because we were able to go high, but the moment it started to spin around, the fear hit me. I was scared because I wasn’t used to tall and fast roller coasters. I held

onto my mom so tight that she tried to calm me down, but my fear got the best of me. Though I survived the roller coaster, it made me cry, so my mom held me until I felt better.

Because I had gotten so frightened, my mom and dad thought it would be best if we went to Toontown. Once there, we were greeted by Pluto, and it made me happy to see how adorable he was. I took pictures with him with a big smile. My mom then took me to the Roger Rabbit ride, which made me both excited and scared because it was both bright and dark, but I was fine afterward. The ride was at a normal speed. I was in a little car that was on the ground, and the voices from the characters in the ride made me giggle. Best to say that the Roger Rabbit was a perfect mixture of thrills and excitement.

After riding so many rides, we went to New Orleans Square to eat lunch and dinner. When we got there, the sun was starting to go down, so we ate as much as we could before it was completely dark. While eating, I was amazed at the restaurant because of all the lights and its pretty appearance. I was so amazed at the place that I forgot what I ate there, but I somehow remember what my cousin ate, which was fries… Or was that me? I may never know. When we were done eating, we went to buy souvenirs at the store and mini booths. My cousins and I got some pins and a bubble wand, and my mom got a keychain for her keys.

By this point we were exhausted, and we knew we had to leave soon, but we all wanted to see one more thing: the light show. We had some time to kill before it started, so we found a spot to sit down, and luckily, we were near a churro stand. My dad got us some churros to eat before and during the light show. We had a perfect view of the light show. It felt like receiving a big gift as a kid but more joyful. Everyone around us had big smiles, especially the kids, myself included.

I never wanted the day to end as it was so joyful. As we were walking toward the exit, we passed by the shops on Main Street, and they were still as lively as when I first saw them. I was so tired

that I was happy to ride the trams back to the parking lot. However, we didn’t get to because the tram lines were so long we had to walk back to the car. When we got to our car, my cousins and I positioned ourselves so that we would be comfortable if any of us fell asleep. My cousins and I did end up falling asleep in the car.

That was how I remembered it. It was and still is my happiest memory. Sometimes I wish I could go back to that day and to Disneyland, but the memory is enough for me. Even if I can’t go back to either, I’m happy I was able to go when I was younger. Hopefully in the future, when or if I have money, I can go to Disneyland and experience the joy all over again.

THE HOUSE ON TINTON

ALE HERRERA

Dayra is 16 years old and a sophomore at Helen Bernstein High School. Dayra likes cats and art. She enjoys movies, theatre, and musicals.

I live in the past, reminiscing about everything and anything. My childhood home is the thing I think about the most. When I think about my childhood home, I see it as my utopia. A utopia is a perfect paradise. What does that mean? Peace in the world or all problems solved? People interpret it as a person, place, or an idea. Mine is a place, my childhood home, or so I thought.

The house on Tinton, the house my parents brought me home to, my childhood home. It had it all; it was perfect to me. My childhood home was in Las Vegas where I lived with my grandparents, parents, and siblings. It had four bedrooms, two baths, a kitchen/dining room, front room, living room, front yard, and back yard. I had my own room with purple walls, a big tree with a hammock in the front, a garden where I helped my grandpa grow pumpkins, squash, and watermelons, a shed in the backyard, next to it a chicken coop for the 6 chickens and 1 rooster my grandpa had bought me. My grandpa bought me anything I wanted. It was the perfect house where I made so many amazing relationships.

When I close my eyes, I remember it all. I can see my grandma’s pearl earrings, smell my grandpa’s cologne, and hear my friends call for me from outside. Watching TV with my parents at night and playing in the garden with my grandpa and siblings in the morning. Going to my tia’s house every weekend during the summertime, swimming in the pool while eating pizza, and staying cozy eating pozole during the winter.

Then my family and I moved out when I was 7. I didn’t know why. I couldn’t understand and I still don’t. My grandparents stayed there. It was different, it was new. I don’t like change and I didn’t like our new house. I didn’t have my friends right next door anymore. However, I would still go back and visit my grandparents and my old house every weekend. I only saw my grandma’s pearls on weekends, smelled my grandpa’s cologne on weekends, and played with my friends on weekends. I lived in that house for seven years and did the same thing for seven years. I was used to it for seven years. Seven years of the same thing. Seven years, 84 months, 365 weeks, 2,557 days of the same thing and now it had all changed. But it was okay because my grandparents were still there. That wouldn’t change, right?

Wrong. Then they moved, and that meant the house was no longer mine, no longer ours. No longer my garden, no longer my room, no longer my house. My grandparents moved when I was 9. They were no longer down the block, they were 30 minutes away. They moved for reasons I don’t know, reasons I don’t understand. But now they have a new house and a new garden. I guess it was cool but it wasn’t the same. I still had my grandparents, and now my tia and cousins, since they now live with my grandparents. I would spend the night on weekends at their new house. I got to be with them more. I stayed up late with them and I woke up early in the morning to my baby cousin watching TV and eating a snack before everyone else woke up. I got to go to Costco with them or go visit another family. I was getting over the loss of my house and it became a distant memory, which felt weird.

Then, right before COVID they moved again, and my family moved too. I remember around this time my grandpa took us back to my childhood home and the new owners changed it from what I had remembered. They cut down the big tree and put a really big fence up. They even painted my purple room white. It made me feel some type of way, the way they changed it. They changed my house. What I had remembered wasn’t the same, but I still have my family and my memories. When my family and I moved, we moved even further away and because of COVID it made it hard to see my grandparents, to see my tia, to see my cousins. Every so often, I got to spend the night. I got to watch movies at night and take care of my baby cousin in the morning. He was starting to grow up, and we could play or watch cartoons together.

But COVID made things even more difficult in my life. I was 14 and doing school online. I never went out except to see my family. Seeing them was an escape. Then my family and I moved to California. It was hard. I had to leave my grandparents, my tias and tios, my cousins I grew up with. My life had changed so many times. I had found a utopia in so many things and in so many people. Going from house to house, finding peace by still being with my family or having them near. But now I had to leave my utopia, my family, my home, my people. Now, it was not just about the house. At that moment, it was my family. My family made my utopia, my childhood home was my utopia because of my family.

Moving to LA made me realize how important my family is to me and how important my memories of them are to me. Having my family, having those moments, those memories, are my escape. My utopia, my perfect paradise, was my childhood home. But more important are the memories I made there. My utopia is my family. Every time before I moved, I had my family with me. I could just drive 30 minutes or less to see my grandparents and play with my cousin. But now I’m 4 to 5 hours away. It’s not as easy to see them as it had been. But when I get sad, I can go to my memories. All

the good memories: remembering my grandma’s pearl earrings, the smell of my grandpa’s cologne, and hearing my friends call for me to come outside. My parents and I watching TV at night, playing in the garden with my grandpa and siblings, then going to my tia’s house every weekend. Sleeping over at my grandparents’ house, babysitting my youngest cousin, my cousins and I playing and getting into trouble.

My utopia, my perfect paradise, my memories, my family. And for a time, the house on Tinton, where it all began.

Ale Herrera loves basketball and aspires to have a career in music. She hopes to accomplish a lot later in her adult life.

PRESENT PERFECT

TASTE OF GINGER AND CITRUS

SIAMUS S.

My Home, a place so standard, yet so sacred.

Others might find it tiring, but it happens to be my favorite.

A place often misunderstood, that is swept away like granules of sand.

My Home is a place so comforting.

It brings so much warmth, similar to a mother’s touch.

A feeling not so common, that there is none as such.

Moving from place to place, there is only one that feels like Home.

The aroma of turmeric and coriander working together like a symphony, with assortments of curries and vegetables leaving a taste of ginger and citrus, which transports me back to the streets of Bangladesh.

Picturing my Bangladeshi heritage, my home is something that offers various connections, whether through music, food, or cultural practices, it is

My Home, a place so standard, yet so sacred.

Siamus is an ambitious high school student who doesn’t find herself writing during her free time, yet committed to this program to gain a new experience.

ALRIGHT LET’S GO

NATALIA RUIZ

“Come on. Let’s go. No one is looking!” Aurora says, pushing me towards the fence.

“No, I think we should wait. What if someone catches us?” I ask nervously, repeatedly looking around.

“C’mon don’t be lame. Let’s go before someone comes and catches us. Plus half of the school day is done. We won’t miss much.”

“Okay, give me a boost,” I say, lifting my foot.

Aurora laces her fingers together, “Alright. Jump a little, and when you get over, catch my bag.”

“What if I fall?”

“You’re not going to fall! Now hurry up and go before the bell rings for the third period. Now, Natalia, now.”

I look back at the fence, lift my foot, and place it in Aurora’s hands. I jump over. She jumps over the fence shortly after I do with no hesitation. We make sure no one is around, looking left and right before heading to the bus stop.

We quickly walk to the Sunset and Western bus stop to head

up to Hollywood. I worry about being seen by a staff member or running into one of our parents.

Getting on the bus a good distance away from school gives me more relief and my excitement to get to Hollywood, which is only a couple of stops away, builds. It’s like the bus driver is driving slower than the other ones. I turn to Aurora, and she is lost in her phone. She never seems to worry as much as I do when it comes to doing things like this. That’s what I like about her. Aurora has a carefree mentality. If you ask her, she’ll say she’s awesome, which is true sometimes.

We sit across from some nice old ladies. They both have short gray hair, both wearing gray and navy cardigans over two layers of long sleeves, and they look like those old grandmas who offer their grandkids cookies every time they come over. They are gossiping the whole ride about a girl named Tanya—I’m guessing that is one of their grandkids—and how she is getting into some trouble at school. Tanya keeps missing school. I quickly think about me and Aurora. We are missing school right now, so does that make us a Tanya? Will my grandma talk about me like this on the bus?

“Aurora, should we go back?” I ask, disturbing the video she is watching.

“And say what? We jumped over the fence 10 minutes ago and didn’t mean to? We are already out. We are going to be fine, Nati.”

“Okay, you’re right.”

I go back to observing the people on the bus and notice the people in front of us. There is a lady on a call with—I’m guessing—her friend. They are planning on meeting up soon somewhere downtown but are still undecided. While trying to hear more about what they are saying, the intercom turns on: “NOW APPROACHING WESTERN AND FRANKLIN.”

“Crap, I’m pretty sure we passed Hollywood. Let’s go.”

She ignores me because she is distracted watching TikTok, so I drag her off the bus.

“What was that for?” Aurora asks.

“I think we passed Hollywood.”

“You think or you know?”

“Uhm, I know. I’m pretty positive. Let’s walk back down.”

“How about I Google it to make sure?” she asks in a reassuring tone.

“Google says 5 minutes of walking.”

“Okay, let’s start walking.”

Walking down Western and Franklin, there are not many people out right now. It is quiet in this neighborhood. They are all probably working or at school, as we should be. The day is nice out. The sun is out, there’s a good amount of clouds, and the breeze feels nice. It feels like a summer breeze at the beach but we’re in the middle of January. We end up going down one street and start to talk about what we are going to do there. I suggest we go watch a movie at the Chinese Theater where we most likely won’t know anyone, but she insists we walk around and shop. It’s much easier to agree with her than not. She has shops in mind so it’s easier to follow her plan.

We start walking further down Western. Google says we have to go down six small streets. Passing one street, we walk past a homeless man who is having a conversation with someone who isn’t there. Even though no one is there, he seems very interested in the conversation. I have always wondered how and why people who end up on the streets get there and those who see things that aren’t there, I wonder what they see. I used to think of them reliving a memory, whether it was a good or bad one. I sometimes put myself in their shoes and wonder what memory I would think of.

As we finally reach Hollywood Boulevard, we feel the scenery change. It is noisier than it was three streets up: honking horns, people chatting, and music from street performers. There are more people—mainly tourists—all with cameras in their hands. That makes it easier to blend in.

“Alright, come on. Let’s go to this one store I want to go to,”

Aurora says, putting her phone in her pocket.

We push our way through a crowd watching a Spider-Man cosplayer breakdance in the middle of the sidewalk. Aurora seems to know exactly where she is going, despite everything that is happening around us. I’m quite excited to see what store she takes us to first. We both have enough money in our pockets to get something. We get past the crowd and speed walk past the next one. The sound from this crowd is loud. Three girls are laughing and one of the girls looks like she is about to pee herself. People like them seem so fun to hang around. Their laughter echoes down the side street.

We arrive at the store Aurora was so eager to go to. It is a vintage clothing store called Iguana Vintage Clothing and run by an older white lady. We go inside where we are greeted with a satisfying smell. It is a mixture of the smell of clothes when they have been on the rack for too long and a lavender-scented candle that is lit at the register. The store is warm and dimly lit, with shelves full of magazines and books and chairs and small sofas to read on. It makes the place seem so cozy. Aurora and I browse through the rows of clothes, finding some cute tops and bottoms. We ask the lady who runs the store if they have a fitting room, and she nods and smiles. “It’s in the back,” she says, while pointing in that direction. We browse the racks some more before heading to the fitting room. I can see why Aurora was so eager to come here.

We both have enough clothes in our hands and decide we should try some on. We make our way to the back and take turns trying on the outfits. There’s only one fitting room with a full-length mirror, which is perfect for seeing how the outfits turn out before going to try on another one. It is my turn first. I find a black, cropped shirt with a graphic design of a heart with wings stabbed by a dagger. The heart is red and I pair it with some flared navy blue pants I found when we had first walked in. I like the outfit, though it’s not something I would wear out. It is still a good outfit. I walk out of the fitting room to show Aurora, while she is on her phone waiting for me to come

out.

“That is a cute outfit, Nati. You look good,” Aurora says, getting up to see it better.

“Now it’s your turn, Aurora.”

She goes to try on her outfit and I stay sitting down where she had been. After observing the outside of the fitting room, I go on my phone and see the time. It is already the end of school. “Aurora! School’s out. I think we should start heading back to go home,” I say, just as she comes out to show her outfit. She is in a pink tube top that has gems on it and some cute jeans. “Now that’s a cute outfit,” I tell her.

“Thanks, I know.”

We take a couple of pictures in these outfits, some separate and some together.

“I think it’s time to go back. School’s out,” I tell her while she looks at herself in the mirror some more.

“Didn’t you say your parents were working late today?”

“Yeah… ”

“So then we don’t have to go so early. Let’s go to a couple more stores, then we’ll go, okay?”

“I don’t know. What if my mom calls?”

“Then you’ll tell her my mom and I are dropping you off and we’re on our way now.”

“Okay then.”

“Come on, let’s go. Let’s stay in these outfits,” Aurora says, grabbing my hand and pulling me to the register.

The lady at the register examines us, smiles, and tells us we picked some good outfits before scanning the tags on our bodies. She removes the tags carefully and gives us a bag for the clothes we walked in with. We say thank you and begin to head out.

As Aurora and I walk down Hollywood to look for more shops, we find a music store, Amoeba Music. “Come on, let’s go in here,” she says, almost passing the door. We walk in and see rows and rows

filled with vinyl, CDs, and DVDs, from old music and movies to newer ones with different genres for each person, and with the walls covered in posters and records. Aurora goes to the vinyl section, trying to see which one she should get, while I go to the movies section. I don’t know exactly what I’m looking for, but I know I want to buy a movie for my collection at home. They have so many to choose from. I browse through the genres and it’s hard to pick. I end up picking up Ferris Bueller’s Day Off and I go back to Aurora. She had found a vinyl record while I was in the movies section.

“Are you ready to go now?” I ask while heading to the register.

“We barely went to any shops other than this one and the clothing store. Come on, let’s go to a few more,” she insists.

She stares at me because she knows I will say yes regardless if I don’t want to. She has that way of getting people to do what she wants, and it works all the time.

“Okay, fine, but two more stores—three at the most—and can we make it quick? It’s going to get dark soon,” I say.

We’re in line behind two people. I notice that both of them have The Cure’s album Disintegration. They don’t know each other but they are both connected. I turn to Aurora who is admiring some keychains that are placed in the front. Aurora’s aunt lives down the street from mine and she has gone every weekend to her house since she was young. She used to go to the same store in the middle of both our homes, but despite being so close to each other, we never crossed paths until we started attending the same high school this year.

After we leave Amoeba, Aurora and I walk down the Hollywood Walk of Fame trying to see how many celebrities we recognize. We pass through La La Land looking at the souvenirs tourists can take home. We search for our names in the star keychains, and when we find them, we buy them at the front. The later it gets, the noisier it is.

The sun is starting to go down.

“Aurora, I think we should go. The sun is almost down and my parents could be on their way home. Can you call your mom?”

“About that… My mom called me while we were in Amoeba and she said she couldn’t pick us up. She said if we stay here until she gets out of work, then she’ll pick us up.”

“What!? Are you serious? What time does she get out then?”

“She said she gets out at 10:30 and with how long it will take her to get here, maybe 11:00.”

“So what now? We have to take the bus? If so, I think we should start going then before it gets even more dark.”

“Nati, can we just go to one more place, please? Then we can go.”

“What if my parents are home already and they’re just waiting for me?” I open my eyes wide because the image of them sitting on the sofa scares me.

“Just one more place. It’s not that far from here. Come on, let’s go,” she pleads.

Aurora leads me through a crowd of tourists taking pictures of the street that is lit up and down. She pulls me into a quiet shop full of accessories and takes me to the back of the store.

“What are we doing here, Aurora?” I am unsure about this place.

“You’ll see. It’s back here. It’s an old photo booth with the Hollywood sign painted on it. Come on, let’s take some photos Nati, then we can leave.”

“Okay,” I say smiling, getting into the booth.

We take our cute pictures, some with the silly items that are in the booth, and some normal ones with the both of us smiling from ear to ear.

We wait for our printed photos, then head back out. There is a nice breeze out and a beautiful sunset. We start walking to the bus stop when I see the same homeless man from before, only this time he is talking to someone—someone real. He is not alone anymore. They are sitting on the sidewalk and he is laughing at a joke his friend made. I don’t hear what he had said but it must have been funny. They then get up and start walking down the street still laughing.

“You know what? We should stay out longer,” I say, looking at

her.

“What? Didn’t you say your parents would be mad?” she asks, looking confused.

“Yeah, but so far they haven’t called. Maybe they will get home later, but either way I don’t want to go home yet,” I reply.

“No, we are already at the bus stop. We’ll just go home. I don’t want you to get in trouble. Plus, that means we’ll take the bus later.”

“I saw a store a few streets down that we should go to to pass the time while we wait for your mom. Come on, let’s go.”

She hesitates, looking around. She seems like she is looking at the homeless man with a warm smile on her face. She looks back at me.

“Okay then, let’s go.”

Natalia is a sophomore at Helen Bernstein High School. This is her second year participating in Paramount Pictures’ Kindergarten to Cap & Gown program. She likes to watch films and TV shows. Her favorite genres are rom-coms and period pieces. She’s open to watching anything you suggest. She is a very nervous person on her own but with the right people she can be very outgoing.

THE DRIVE

ALLISON GONGORA

The sun creeps through the blinds filling my bedroom with sunlight. I listened for the typical morning wake-up sounds of the TV, but it is eerily quiet. Suddenly, my older sister rushes through the door and is standing at the foot of my bed, saying, “Do you want to go out with me? We’re probably going to be out for most of the day.”

With a sigh of skepticism, I agree. She tells me to get dressed quickly and meet her outside. I jump out of bed, brush my teeth and hair, and walk to my closet, not knowing what to wear. I quickly throw something on and run out the door. Standing in front of her red Toyota Corolla, she says “Hurry up and get in, we’re gonna be late!”

We get in and I ask her, “What are we going to be late for?”

She smiles and says “You’ll find out… ”

I pull down the visor and the mirror to see what I look like since I just ran out of the house. I look in the backseat and see my green velvet makeup bag on the seat. I left it there the night before. I grab it and pull the eyelash curler out. I curl my lashes and put mascara on. It’s a little dark, so I open the sunroof to let some more sunlight in.

The sun shines bright against the black leather seats as we drive down the street. My sister puts her flowery phone case on the magnet and I see a familiar address on the GPS, Noah’s Bagels. “Ooo! bagels!” I say, “I was starting to get hangry.”

She nods in agreement and says, “This will lift our spirits,” as she puts on our car music playlist. ***

Allison is a sophomore in high school who likes to draw and listen to music. She enjoys spending time with her older sister going to new and fun places around LA. She hopes to work in the medical field as a nurse or OBGYN.

MY HAPPY PLACE

RAQUEL COREAS

I frolicked in the jellyfish field, roaming around with my best friend, SpongeBob. The day was warm, the sky was clear, and we were trying to catch a jellyfish, our favorite thing to do. It was a perfect day. Suddenly, I heard this grating voice jar me awake. “ALE, WAKE UP!!!” I realized my perfect day with SpongeBob was all a dream, and my mom was waking me up for school.

I sat up for a minute to get myself together, contemplating whether to stay warm in my bed or get changed. My mom said, “You woke up late again, you only have 20 minutes.” I rushed to get ready. My mascara wasn’t even. I was already frustrated entering school late and already in a bad mood. My friends weren’t there. The teacher asked me for the blue slip from the tardy line. I had an angry expression on my face. The bell rang.

I passed through the halls while bumping into everyone when I saw my cousin, Veronica. I gave her the biggest hug and said, “V, I thought you weren’t coming. I thought I was going to be alone today.”

“Yeah, no, my mom told me to come to school even if I was late.” We walked to chemistry together, and we had a test we weren’t prepared for at all. The day went on, the bell finally rang, and V and I walked to the bus stop.

As we were walking, we saw the bus pass our stop, and we had to wait another 20 minutes. While we were waiting, a homeless man started yelling at people, saying, “ALL YOU PEOPLE ARE BLIND! THE GOVERNMENT HAS CORRUPTED YOU TO THINK PIGEONS ARE BIRDS BUT THEY’RE NOT!! THEY’RE CAMERAS TO WATCH US!!!” He started to throw all his things at the pigeons, and everyone looked at the homeless man thinking he was crazy. Finally, the bus arrived, and V and I got on. We noticed that the bus was full to the brim. People were squished together, and there was barely any space to sit or stand. Luckily, we entered right before the bus driver closed the door.

As I stood in the bus, I thought about how this day was the worst I had had in a while. I reached my stop and then went home after a long day. I opened the door, and I was greeted by my lovely amazing dog, which lifted up my mood. She followed me as I dropped my things on the couch. I went into my room to change, and let out the biggest sigh of relief. With my comfy clothes, I headed to the kitchen to make myself a sandwich.

I took it to my room to eat while watching a show. As I put away the dishes I used in the sink and headed back to my room to finish the show, I slowly closed my eyes and fell into a deep sleep. Suddenly, I woke up. “ALE WAKE UP!!! You were supposed to take the chicken out of the freezer!”

Raquel is a 15-year-old sophomore at Helen Bernstein High School. She likes playing sudoku, video games, and listening to music. She loves crafting while she watches movies/shows. She lives with her two sisters in East Hollywood, and she wants to become a veterinarian when she grows up.

MY COMFORT SPACE

ALEJANDRA CASTRO

You may wonder what my comfort place is. The view is very natural, with lots of trees and a little bench to sit outside. The inside has a light blueish wall with a brown wooden floor. The lights can be changed to colors like red, blue, purple, and more, with a brightness control. I like using the color lights more than the bright lights because it’s less harsh. It also has a Scooby Doo tapestry. It’s purple with neon colors like neon green, neon pink, and neon orange. It also has Shaggy and Scooby sitting on their Mystery Machine van watching a view that’s purple.

My comfort place also has a desk where you can work or do random things like make slime and other arts and crafts. The desk is black, it has three shelves on either side of the desk with a flat top. The closet is on the right side of the room. It has a door, and once you open it you walk into a small room with a bunch of clothes. The

rug is a simple white rectangle carpet rug. It’s a smooth rug. It’s not like those aggressive rugs. The bed is a rectangle bed with a bunch of plushies like a big Stitch, Spiderman, and my favorite Disney character, Pluto. The bed sheets are pink with a white rose print. The blanket is red with flowers printed on it.

You may have guessed by now, but my comfort place is my room. When I tell people that my room is my comfort place, they sometimes find it boring and ask why, because it’s a room in a house and they probably expected a place outside like a park or somewhere cool. Well, my room may sound boring, but it’s a quiet space where I can be without interruptions. My room is a place where I can be who I am, do what I want, and show my emotions without anyone saying anything.

I was in the same room for 15 years and recently moved out of it around three months ago to move into my new room. At first, it was hard because my old room saw me grow up, saw all my phases, saw me at my happiest and lowest. Leaving my old room wasn’t for a good reason. I didn’t want to leave because I thought leaving would just make things worse for me. I thought I wasn’t going to like it. I thought I was just going to consider my new room a random place in which I wouldn’t find comfort.

When I saw my new room, it was very different from my old one. I took the opportunity to change everything. I don’t like making changes, especially if the change is the place where I’ve been my entire life. But I got through it. My mom supported me because she knew I didn’t like such a big change. I got new things like lights, a new tapestry, new curtains, a new rug, and new organizers. Doing all this made me realize that I could find comfort in my new room because it was the way I wanted it to be. What makes my room even better is my dog Tiger. Even though he can be a little bug, his being there makes me find comfort in my room.

Now my new room has seen me just be there. I didn’t like leaving my old room. I wish I could’ve taken it with me, but now I’m glad

I have a new room with new stuff because my old room saw me go from being a kid to becoming a teen, and now my new room can see me go from being a teen to becoming an adult. It can see me graduate high school, watch me figure out new things, and even see me do applications for either a job or a college/university. My new room may have not seen me fully grow up but it is going to see me become more mature and responsible. ***

Alejandra Castro is a sophomore at Helen Bernstein High School, class of 2026. She enjoys listening to music and having time to herself. A Good Girl’s Guide To Murder is currently her favorite book series. She aspires to become a mystery/crime writer and looks forward to attending a four year university after high school.

BEING WITH ME

HAZEL

I like to be in my room a lot. That might sound like I like to isolate myself or something, and I agree, I do that. I am a very awkward person when talking to someone else, even my own family members. I feel like I can only be myself in my room, when hanging out with my mom, or even when I used to hang out with my grandma before she passed away.

I also feel the same way when I’m with my dog Cookie. I like that name. It does sound a little silly, but I was young when I got her. I’ve always been childish, even now that I’m 16. Why? I don’t really know. I have always been, even now when I’m supposed to be mature, apparently. I think it’s an escape for me—watching kid shows or playing with toys. It’s an escape, and helps me calm down or feel better whenever I feel something is overwhelming.

Let me give you a detailed explanation of my room. When you walk in, you see two beds, one on each side. There’s a middle table in between the beds, and there’s a dresser on the left side of the room. That’s my mom’s side. There is also a dresser on my side of the room.

It’s pink and green and has a mirror. My TV is in front of the two beds, and I also have a closet right behind the room door. When you open my bedroom door, you’ll see a door for the closet with a mirror that hangs on it. Then there’s a door in the corner that leads to a small bathroom.

I have a lot of stuff in my room—hair products , makeup, clothes, shoes, and plushies. Sometimes when my mom and I go out, I’ll show her something I like. Usually, it is something childish like a stuffed animal or maybe a bright-colored shirt. I don’t really believe these things are childish, but they are perceived that way. My mom will make fun of me sometimes, but she will still allow me to get it.

I hate when my mom and I get into arguments. It is usually about the most random things. But she doesn’t have her own room and that’s what I hate. The house I live in is crowded. All the rooms are taken. After any argument, she either stays or leaves. But when she stays in the room, I get annoyed. I don’t like to go to my aunt’s room. I feel out of place there. The living room is sometimes nice, since it has a picture of my grandma on the wall. I feel like she is there with me.

My grandma was nice. Although I don’t have many memories of her, I know she was nice and caring, even if she had her own way of showing it. When my mom told me she died, I was very hurt and I cried. I wasn’t able to go with the rest of my family to her funeral back in her home country El Salvador. Afterward, my mom and I stayed in our room and comforted each other.

After arguments with my mom, sometimes I will leave the room for a while and then end up going back. I will ignore my mom and just lay on my bed. Eventually, she’ll speak up and we will just move on and be normal again. I will be happy again. But sometimes when I speak up, she will either move on or stay mad at me. I hate when she stays mad at me.

When I am alone in my room, I feel free and can be myself without anyone judging me. I enjoy that a lot. I never fit in with

anyone else, especially at school. I believe the reasons are because of my interests and my sense of humor. In my family, I only get along with a few members, like my aunt on my dad’s side, my grandma, and my cousin. One thing about me is I talk to myself a lot, so in my room I talk a lot, especially to my dog Cookie. Sometimes I let her on my bed, but usually she lays on her bed which is in my room. She doesn’t usually sleep there, but I have it there for when she does.

I tell my dog a lot of stuff and she just sleeps or looks at me. It sounds crazy but I feel comfortable when I talk to my dog. I usually just talk about how I feel about things, or what I did at school that day, or just about the most random stuff ever. I am someone who gets annoyed quickly, so if something or someone annoys me, I just tell my dog about it. I really only express my feelings towards my dog, and if not, I just keep it to myself. My dog is a great listener because it’s the only thing she can do. She’s safe.

This is MY utopia. I think so because my room makes me feel safe and comfortable. Everyday after school, all I want to do is lay down and be there. School really annoys me at times. Or rather, the people in it. The second I get home and in my room, I feel much better. I lay down, watch TV, and just stay there.

Mentally, I feel better alone. Yet, sometimes I wish that I had someone who I could really relate to other than my dog. I do, I have my friends I met in my first year of high school. I do like them, yes, but I feel most myself in my room. I understand myself. My dog too, she’s always listening to me and staring at me for no reason. I don’t mind it most of the time. My utopia is my room. I feel amazing in my room. Everyone’s utopia is different, and sometimes it may be weird or bizarre, but it doesn’t matter. Not everyone is the same, and everyone’s utopia is unique in their own way.

***

Hazel is 16 years old. She is a sophomore at Helen Bernstein High School. Hazel enjoys watching TV and coloring.

A DREAM

MAYLIN A.

I wake up to the sound of the waves roaring and crashing on the shore, a soft breeze blowing through the curtains. I open my eyes to see the most beautiful sunrise through the floor-to-ceiling windows. A gorgeous magenta is painted in the sky. I get up, leave the bed, and walk out of the bedroom through the sliding glass doors.

When I step out, I feel the warmth of the sand beneath my feet. The early morning sunlight is warm enough to leave a nice feeling on my skin. The breeze runs through my hair, followed by the aroma of the salty sea water. A ray of seagulls soaring through the sky, their chirping getting louder, when I suddenly realize it isn’t chirping at all, but a banging coming from my bedroom door and my brother yelling to let him inside my room.

Everything had just been a dream. Disappointment washes over me. I get up from my bed and reluctantly let my brother in. The sixyear-old boy bolts in, bringing with him his construction toys to play with on the rug. I grab my phone from my table, check the time, and notice I should start getting ready for school before it gets late.

Maylin is a junior in high school. She enjoys going to the beach and watching the sunrise. She also loves to spend time with her family!

OCEAN DEEP THOUGHTS AND FEELINGS

ELVIA S-G.

When you ask me about the ocean, my immediate thought is: We can’t be one. To me, the ocean is the ideal world among many. I feel connected to our ocean in so many ways, including memories that I hold on to dearly. Going heart deep within the waves, I always soak up the salty air paired with skin-warming sun rays. Every time I go, I always find a shell on the ocean’s shore that I know will stay with me for as long as the wind blows.

Although with its beauty, along comes the mystery. I’m intrigued at the thought of there being so many amazing unknown creatures. Sea animals that have yet to be discovered, thousands upon thousands of folklores that tell tales of powerful gods, beautiful mermaids, and

luring sirens. All the different cultures that are connected by stories of sailors going to and getting lost at sea. These tales caught my interest at such a young age. I grew up watching The Little Mermaid for hours, subconsciously becoming afraid of the character Ursula. With the fear of her in my little brain, I became scared of anything searelated.

I’ve been visiting our Pacific Ocean since I was about the age of 4. I have this one memory from that time. My family and I went on a really windy day. I was wearing a dress with a beige coat, and I remember being covered with sand. There was a great amount of seaweed on the shore, to the point where you had to step on it to reach the ocean. It was a dark shade of green, and there were about 10 of them piled up together in clumps. I was running around everywhere, but only near it. My mom was encouraging me to put my feet in the water, but I didn’t like the fact that I had to step on the seaweed.

Eventually, to my surprise, my older sister picked me up and over the seaweed. The last thing I remember from that memory is me crying… I think the moment of fear stuck with me, but I eventually got past it, since I used to only go knee-deep within the water.

Despite this being a core memory, I feel like our ocean and I are one being sharing so many components. Our prime times are always during the summer, when we have the most energetic aura. We’re both considered feminine in the way we present ourselves, and seen as something beautiful until forgotten about when we have pollution clouding our surroundings. We both even have fast mood changes. Her’s being the waves, mine being my feelings. A million endless reasons, but we can’t be one. And my reason is oh so very simple. I merely don’t have the ability to swim.

Elvia is currently a sophomore who enjoys music and reading. She listens

to The Beatles, HIM, and the band Wallows. Her current favorite book is A Good Girl’s Guide To Murder. She also enjoys hanging out with her friends, as well as her alone time.

THE TREES AND THE MONSTERS WITHIN

ANTHONY R.G.

I’m sitting in the back of the car, annoyed by my brother yapping about something dumb. Mom and Dad are taking us to our park. We call it “ours” because we have had so many memories there, so many family parties and events. It’s special in a way.

I glance outside my window. Many people have already arrived at the park and have taken spaces. It’s a bit of an annoyance seeing so many spaces taken. After a while, we find a parking spot. I exit the car and am greeted by the scenery in all its beauty—the way I see it—the trees nearly covering the sky. I pause for a slight moment and appreciate it. The trees create a beautiful shade of color to the objects around us. The sounds and the feelings that are around me blow away

thoughts and troubles, and the only thing now on my mind at the moment is the beauty I’m experiencing.

I continue to walk down a path, leaving the rest of my family to hike the area. It’s been a while. The path leads to a pond that my family and I visited a couple of years ago. Memories I have from that time are skipping rocks and spotting wildlife. We saw a deer here once. It dashed away before we were able to catch it on camera. I continue on this path where I see rabbits and a deer, probably eating from what I can tell from this distance. At this point, I look back at my family, enjoying the park. I see my brother wandering around with what I can barely make out as a long twig, playing as if he were a swordsman and swinging it at a tree.

I keep walking, searching for more areas of the park. Further off in the distance, I see a mess of people just blasting loud music and— from what I see—they are camping but somehow producing a lot of pollution in many forms. They are oblivious to what they are doing to the same park they also love. It’s so far off into the woods, you would think that there would be some signs to restrict you from doing these things. Disturbed by this, I continue my walk and see more people absolutely destroying the landscape carelessly: There is trash scattered around, and literally four different bonfires. I can smell the burnt wood and charcoal from here, and hear the most heavy metal music imaginable blasting. The singer sounds like when little iPad kids get their iPad taken away and their inner demons take control, ripping out a scream that pierces the eardrums of all within a mile radius. Anyways, I manage to get through.

Seeing all of that makes me sad for the things living here for generations just to be disturbed by the actions of some careless people. I take a moment to think about all the things I do that harm the landscape around me, realizing that we all do many things that we could think twice about before doing.

We need these beautiful parks for our next generations to enjoy and cherish in the future. The future can be a scary place, no one

knows what will be there. There is a spotlight on the people of the present to continue to preserve the glamorous landscape that we have been given by the people from the past. We must pass the light on to the future. There are many ways that we can protect what we have, but we all need to realize how quickly it can be taken away by the monsters that lurk and seek to destroy it. But in reality, if we look around, if we shape-shift our view and open our eyes to the truth, the truth is that those monsters are us. All of us, we are what makes the world this way. The only monsters that exist are the ones we see everyday, the ones we say hello to, the ones we see on our computer screens, the ones that make everything you see around you. Heck, even those iPad kids.

Close your eyes and stand still, take a deep breath in, and take a deep breath out. That feeling seems to be different here. The only sounds heard here are the sounds of the plants, animals, and my own breathing. It would be nice for our children to experience this one day, the people who will inherit the planet for the next hundreds of years. Slowly resting my body on the grass, feeling its cool, slightly damp surface, I reach above my head and grip a chunk of the grass. It seems to give me the feeling of freedom and peace. The fresh, cool air that blows through my face, touching the bumps and curves of my body, penetrating my mind, almost hypnotizing. The dead leaves falling off nearby trees, crunching and snapping, give me a tingly sensation in my brain. The world has me in its grasp, as the golden hour arrives. It gives me the best lighting on the surroundings. It almost seems unreal. My senses and the colors that create this moment. A mix of emotions hits me as I look up into the sky: confusion, curiosity, a slight fright at the realization of how small I really am. But most of all, I am mesmerized.

We as human beings have to take part in protecting and preserving what we have and take time to take it in in its purest form. I wake from my thoughts and feel the need to stretch and regain energy. I stand up slightly dizzy from staring into the sky for too long

and stumble, then take a deep breath in and out. Unfortunately, I am no main character of the world, so of course, I cannot do everything that I wish., I don’t have that kind of power. All I can do is do my part and try to convince people to do what they can too. Hopefully, I can open the eyes of others. Hopefully, I can influence others to do their part as well.

I come upon a squirrel. I stand still so as not to disturb it. Such a beautiful animal. I spot a piece of litter. It is a piece of plastic from what used to be a bottle cap. I quickly pick it up before the squirrel confuses it for food. I get a glance from the squirrel as if it appreciates what I have done for it. It scurries away. I wonder if it understands what happened. Either way, my actions might have just saved a life.

The sunlight falls, the crickets chirp, I hear a call in the distance from Mom telling me it’s time to go. I don’t think there is anything more memorable than a call from a loved one. I run past the pond, past the trees full of animals, past the bushes, headed towards her. I close the door to our vehicle. I click my seat belt and get comfortable for the drive back home. We take off, and on our way back home, I realize I have a new mindset, one that is better for us all.

I start to drift into my thoughts once again, daydreaming as the peaceful ride back home brings a sense of relief and pure joy. There is something special about this place. It speaks a language that I cannot quite understand. I can’t tell if it’s the swift blow of the wind, the soft touch of smooth grass, or the animals that get to call this home, when I hear their calls from afar, bringing me company even when I am alone. Or maybe it’s the memories I’ve made with the loved ones I cherish. The ride back is strangely relaxing, as if I had accomplished something. Relief, calm, happiness. Maybe the satisfaction of a good day is what this park gives us. Or maybe it is more.

It’s more than just a park. I feel like modern-day life doesn’t excite me as much. I want trees, shifting shadows, fresh chilling water, the feeling of the world and family close to me. I want to be alive with curiosity and happy thoughts. I want the glorious glow of natural

lighting, and the charm of the amethyst twinkle of the night sky. Let’s keep this world alive, this world in its purest form. The day is done, the sun has set, time seems slower now. It’s hard to stay awake when in such deep thoughts. Slowly fading away into sleep, drifting off into dreams while my vision blurs and my mind is at peace. For now, wishing the world goodnight. This feeling is different now.

Anthony is a sophomore in high school. He enjoys creating art including animation and dabbles in music and light writing.

PERFECTION.

GEIDY NUÑEZ

It’s not just sunlight that pierces through the darkness of a tent.

It’s specks of dust that dance in the beams of light.

It’s not just the view at the end of a hike.

It’s the blisters and blood that let you know you are alive.

It’s not just the rush of a mighty river.

It’s the wrinkled breaths you take when you cry.

It’s not just silk scarfs of the wind.

It’s the gusts of gale you inhale.

It’s not just the symphony of crickets closing the night.

It’s the purr of the old motor trying to breathe.

It’s not just the smell of the food when you are hungry.

It’s the hands of the woman who made it.

It’s not just the masterpiece you drew.

It’s the doodles on the wrinkled napkin.

It’s not just the 1:00, 2:00, 3:00, 4:30 AM conversations.

It’s the emptiness that stayed when all of it left.

It’s not just the soul that keeps you company.

It’s the music, the gesture, the speech, and the perspective of yours.

It’s not just the destiny you thought you had.

It’s the experiences that allowed you to make a whole new plan.

Perfection.

It’s everything that once was. is. will be.

Geidy (Jay-dee) Nuñez is a first generation high school senior at Helen Bernstein High. She enjoys camping with her family and having countless conversations about life with her dad. She will be attending UCLA in the upcoming fall.

FUTURE PERFECT

THE STROKE

ERNESTO SANDOVAL

What is a perfect place and where could it ever be? I bet it’s here, you just gotta look and see.

The year is 2055. The sun is bright in the sky as an eagle flies in search of its meal. The creek below flows and provides a food source to other animals as well, but it also provides a soothing sound for the people.

As you walk through the mountains, you can lose your way. If you’re a stranger, it’s best to be accompanied by locals. A line of trees hides the entrance to the city. As you pass the dense tree line, you can immediately see the bustling farms and hear the farm animals. You enter what seems like a portal into another world. After a certain point, you are surrounded by tall shining steel walls that reflect the unforgiving golden light in the sky.

During the morning, bright and warm, the smell of fresh baked goods fills the village air. You can see this place has everything from country farms sitting on grassy knolls to neighborhoods with wi-fi access points in every other corner.

The cheerful families walking along the roads and the animals resting in their fields. The sick are well taken care of, they live their lives as free as can be. The air quality is nice and clean, not a car or

truck insight.

Not a single bit of traffic is in your way, you may go as you please. There is a shiny metallic road you can follow to whatever you need to go: a doctor’s office or even a park for kids.

Citizens are fed well, so they sleep on full stomachs. No one begs for food and there are no people lining up for free bread from community centers. Education is free to all that are willing to learn.

Technical schools are available for new citizens of The Stroke. You will never stay ill or in pain since the doctors here know it all—from curing the deadliest of illnesses to a mere stomach ache.

I live here. It is my perfect home. Not just for me or just you. It’s a home for all. This new home—my home—is just perfect. We are all in this home together, no worries of a fascist leader or an aloof government. We follow our own self-government. We decide together. Not one person is allowed to make decisions alone.

My life is happy. I feel almost as if I was free. I am full in my belly and as safe as can be. I can’t believe how everything is. I couldn’t see myself in another life or another world without my home—this home—The Stroke.

The only issues I observe are electrical issues. Air mills, solar panels, hydroelectricity sites all together do not produce enough energy for The Stroke. The city must ration watts and volts to certain areas while other more important buildings like banks and hospitals must always have the power on.

The electrical issues have seemed to create other problems in the community, such as power outages at buildings for people with special needs, food spoiling due to refrigerators not powering on, and some people having to work more than others due to the electricity schedule. The government monitoring these things has failed to address these issues that are ripping apart the fabric of The Stroke. Just last week a baby ventilator went offline because the AI didn’t turn the power on correctly at the hospital.

The time is now to address and fix these issues that are making it

seem like The Stroke has a digital illness. I really love The Stroke. It is a place where I have grown and learned to live life. I have thought of some solutions to fix the problems created from the lack of electricity:

Special needs people or people with a hurtful mindset will get the help they need to get rid of their harmful behavior with therapy, training, role models, and opportunities to grow.

Food will be provided to everyone in an amount you can manage yourself. However, you will be able to earn more by how much work you do, in order to be fair to the people who work harder than others. They can earn more for themselves while everyone else still has enough.

There will be work/life balance. People will not have to work themselves away to get by in life. They will be given their own time and space to be themselves and do what they want to do.

The government will be more fair. There will be no room for the officials to be corrupt. A Government Monitoring Citizens Group will be created where the people will have a say in what will happen in the government.

I plan to employ people to monitor and safeguard any AI errors. I will invest in researching improvements to the existing air mills, hydroelectricity plants, and solar panel management.

I am running for President of the Electricity Commission of The Stroke in 2055! Vote for me!

WAR OF CHANGE

Ernesto is a teenager attending an inner city high school with aspirations to higher learning academics.

In the year 1511, Nicolas-Joseph Cugnot invented the first ever working self-propelled and land-based mechanical vehicle using steam. This revolutionized everyday life and forms of transportation. Houses were using steam, gears, cogs, and coal to power stoves, heaters, lights, computers, and televisions. The biggest corporations in this field were Energy Co., Iron Solutions, Titaniummotors, and Storm Enterprises. By the 1700s most of the world’s largest powers such as Britain, Russia, France, Prussia, and Austria were almost if not fully industrialized with the United States and Mexico following closely behind.

Most of the world’s natural resources, such as trees, were almost gone. Most children didn’t even know what a tree looked like and only saw them in books in school. The human body had to adapt to inhaling the dangerous chemicals that factories let out into the air to the point scientists said the average human inhaled more dust and soot than oxygen. Buildings were lined with copper and steel pipes that let steam into houses, apartment buildings, schools, and even skyscrapers.

STEVEN REYNOSO

Many people tried to fight back against industrialization saying, “The planet will be destroyed and we will drain it of all of its natural resources.” Their pleas were called propaganda, and anyone who even thought those words had any truth was called insane. But one small child by the name of Dilron Vestgeirsson listened. He was fascinated with this so-called propaganda. Many days after school he would find one of these preachers and listen to him spew about overindustrialization.

By the time it was 1771, multiple activist groups had started fighting against the corporations. It was common for streets to shut down because of protests, many worker strikes were happening weekly, and there were more and more preachers showing up to the point there was one on every city block. The leaders were not happy. Police were told to shut down any protest that happened no matter what. People were arrested, fired, or shunned. But then… something happened. On April 29, 1799, a man was injured during a protest and sadly became paralyzed. This caused even more trouble for the government as more and more people stopped using steam-powered machines from companies, causing a waste of minerals. Then a group arose. A group that would put a stop to this over-industrialization. This group was called… The Raven Wings of Freedom, or “Raven Wings” for short.

The sound of boots hitting steel as a young man ran across the steam pipes connecting buildings. His tailcoat flapped wildly in the wind though his hood managed to stay on. His outfit was almost completely black. He wore black cargo pants with a harness, he had on a white dress shirt with a black vest over it, a black hooded tailcoat with the logo of a purple raven with an angel halo, black knee-high boots, black combat gloves, black bandana with a pair of purple wings, and a gauntlet made of black rhodium lined with gold on his right forearm. He kept running, only stopping when he reached the edge of a rooftop.

He kneeled down and pulled out his binoculars. He watched as

multiple security guards patrolled the area. He kept analyzing the scene until he found what he was looking for, a window leading to a room on the third floor. He watched as the woman inside, presumably the boss, walked out, turning off the light and locking the door as she left.

“Third floor, sixth window.” The young man made a mental note as he put away the binoculars and pulled up a bandana covering his nose and mouth. He then put on sunglasses to hide his eyes. Standing up he grabbed a pipe and slid down, his boots scraping against the brick wall. When he landed he crouched and made his way to the fence of the building and saw someone standing at a watchtower. He opened his bag and pulled out a small device that connected to his gauntlet. He then pulled out a small pellet and placed it in the device. Pulling back the dacron, he aimed at the man before letting go. The pellet hit the man’s forehead and it exploded into a purple cloud. The man’s eyes became heavy as he fell to the ground asleep.

The young Raven stood, pulling out fence wire cutters and cutting a hole in the fence before crawling in. The young man then crouch-walked toward the small building off to the side of the main building. The small building itself was about his height, probably two feet taller. He tried to open the door but it was locked and the only way to unlock it was with a special key.

Groaning, he jumped up and grabbed the ledge of the roof and pulled himself up. Once there, he walked over to the skylight. He looked around to make sure he was out of sight of any guards. Seeing no sign of a watchtower or foot patrol, he pulled out a glass breaker and broke the glass before dropping inside. Once he saw the steam valves and electrical boxes that were powering the building, he quickly shut them off, cutting the power to the compound. As he heard everything power down, he jumped up and grabbed the edge of the now broken skylight. Pulling himself up, the young man looked around and saw multiple soldiers patrolling with flashlights and conversing about why the lights had gone out. Looking at the

patrols, he jumped down and laid down on the ground to hide in the overgrown grass.

The young man crawled toward the main building. Once there, he looked around. Seeing no patrol near him, he stood and took off his bag. Opening it, he pulled out a grapple hook, and switched it out for the slingshot in his gauntlet. He aimed the gauntlet toward the sixth window on the third floor, took a deep breath, and fired. A puff of steam was released from the gauntlet sending the grapple hook flying. He hit slightly below the window and pressed a button on the side of the gauntlet which pulled him up toward the window. His feet landed on the wall and he let out a few deep breaths. He kept one hand gripping the wire and used his other one to open the window.

Climbing inside, he quickly searched the room, and finally, he found the thing he was looking for: a file of all of the big corporations’ plans for further industrialization. He heard the door being unlocked and a woman’s voice. “I assure you Mr. Hywel Sloniomsky the file is safe here,” she said. The young man’s heart started beating faster and he grabbed a chair, putting it against the door. Without wasting time, he dove out of the window. He leaned back and put his hands and boots on the concrete wall to slow his fall. Once his feet touched the ground, the power came back on. His eyes widened and he started running for the gate. He reached his point of entry, slid through the opening, and continued to run, not looking back as the compound’s siren turned on.

The young man didn’t stop running until he reached a warehouse on the outskirts of Boston. He went to a side door and banged on the heavy metal. The eye slot opened and a set of eyes stared at him as he rolled up his sleeve showing a small tattoo of a raven. With a grunt, the door opened, letting the young man in. Once in, he saw a group of people standing around a table with multiple maps, blueprints, etc.

“Want to explain why there is word about a break-in at The Architectural Firm?” The woman who was standing at the head of the table spoke in a heavy British accent. He looked at her as she leaned

on the table. She wore a white French dress shirt, a red vest, a red topcoat that reached the floor almost like a dress, a pair of vertically red-striped black pants, a belt with a handful of gadgets, and black boots laced with gold that reached mid-thigh. Her hair was a shiny light brown, and her eyes were an emerald green. The young man removed his hood, sunglasses, and bandana. His hair was jet black and his eyes were a brilliant purple. This young man was… Dilron Vestgeirsson.

The woman, Elisa Ross, was the head of The Raven Wings of Freedom. As the two walked, Elisa spoke. “Well Dilron, this is certainly… interesting… ” she said as she read the stolen plans. “Are you sure this is really what the Slonimsky family has planned?” she asked as she looked over her shoulder at Dilron.

“Yes. Before I left, I heard the woman in charge of the firm talking to him,” Dilron spoke as they walked into a private meeting room.

“Hmm… ” Elisa leaned on the desk. “I’m assuming you want to lead this… operation.”

“If this place does exist, we could get there and establish some kind of civilization. There, they won’t be able to do anything,” Dilron stated as Elisa crossed her arms and set the file on the table.

“... I suppose you are correct,” she said as she bit her nail in thought. After a few seconds, she sighed. “Fine… I’ll allow you to lead this operation. Get everything you need before you set sail. I wish you good luck.” Elisa kicked off the desk and walked out of the room.

Dilron and his crew, under the cover of night, snuck into a shipyard looking for a boat with the Raven Wings crest. As they snuck past the guards, they spotted the boat. It was one of the few sailboats still in working order as the world had switched to steam and coal-powered ones. They knocked out the guards that were on watch one by one, trying to lower their chances of being caught. Once in the clear, the group started to prepare to sail. All the sails

were sent up and the wind began to push them out of harbor. By the time security noticed they were gone, it was too late. They were miles away from shore.

After a week of sailing, the group reached their destination. They were a few dozen miles away from the shore of Iceland. It was a decent sized island with no type of civilization on it. The group docked and they started to work. They used naturally cleared lots to build homes, farms, etc. While their goal was to stop industrialization, they knew they had to have a civilization to continue their plans.

After months of work, they had successfully created a civilization that had none of the flaws that the rest of the world had. In the year of 1780, the island of Rivenfort was created. Due to the island’s vast resources, they began trading for materials. Multiple members of The Raven Wings of Freedom sailed out to the island to continue to progress the civilization with machines. By the time the Slonimsky family had reached the island, they were surprised to see a thriving civilization.

Enraged, Hywel Slonimsky confronted Dilron on the beach. “What is the meaning of this!?” the old man yelled out.

“Well, as you can tell, we occupied this island, and because of that you can’t proceed with your industrialization plans,” Dilron said with a grin on his face. “I suppose we don’t need this anymore.” Dilron handed over the plans he had taken from the Slonimsky family. Hymel got even more enraged and had to be dragged back to his steamboat, leaving a still grinning Dilron on the beach as the steam boat sailed away.

After years of The Raven Wings Of Freedom working to downsize industrialization, they were successful. By the time the 19th century started, solar power was being used in every country. By the 20th century, the world was clean. No longer polluting it, the earth had finally become… a utopia.

Steven is a sophomore in high school likes video games, music, and cooking.

MEMORIES WITHIN THE GARDEN

ALYSSA H.

Marrying for love? Or for political reasons? Growing up within the royal family, I’ve only heard my mother talking about how she had wished she had never married my father. She was forced into the marriage due to laws and beliefs under the previous king, my father, and grandfather. I’ve always wondered, “Couldn’t my mother have just married someone she loved instead of my father?”

“Listen here, Oph…”

Such delusions were rather hilarious. When I asked my tutor these questions, all she replied, “Oh our dearest princess, you are far too young to understand such difficult concepts like these. When you grow up a little more, you will finally understand the reasoning behind the choices our king makes.” When I was a child, I never understood what my tutor meant by those words. I spent countless nights trying to figure out what she meant. Oh, what a naive child I was, thinking I could marry someone out of love… such idiotic

thoughts.

I always knew that marrying someone was never going to be my choice, from the very beginning. I could only hope that whoever my father would marry me off to would be someone who could take care of me, unlike how my father had treated my mother. Throughout the years they had been together, they showed no signs of affection towards one another. The only time I remember my father smiling was when my mother had given birth to my younger brother twenty years ago. He is now the crown prince and the next king of Dauntless. My father had asked beforehand, “Would you like to be the next ruler of Dauntless?” At first, I had, but then I thought about my younger brother who was born five years after me. Perhaps he could be a better leader than me? Growing up, I never took classes that could have prepared me to become the next ruler, only bridal lessons and queen lessons, according to my father’s bidding. Becoming the next ruler of Dauntless was something overwhelming for me. So, I ended up declining the offer. Looking back, would I have said a different answer? Perhaps not. Becoming the next ruler would mean I could have picked out who would rule beside me, which would be rather difficult to do. You can’t trust anyone outside the castle walls. Many marry into a rich family in order to provide for their previous family who was abandoned, or there are those who marry only for money and power. Unfortunately, since I declined my father’s offer, I was now forced to marry into another kingdom for political purposes. I just hope this doesn’t end up like my mother’s marriage went with my father.

“Before I forget, Ophelia, my dear. You will be marrying the next ruler of Phyrexia. They offered an alliance through this marriage. Be nice to him, his name is Eliot Javernick. You should know him, right?” I felt my heart drop through my stomach upon hearing his name and the kingdom. “Eliot Javernick.” He is known to be a beast on the battlefield, the top knight within Phyrexia. It is known to be a kingdom filled with battles, always surrounded by wars. Does my

father want me dead?

A few months later…

Within the past few months, my father arranged dates between Eliot and me. At first, I was rather nervous. In the first weeks of us dating, he always seemed to be giving me the cold shoulder. He always seemed to avoid the questions I would ask, and I would eventually give up.

Fortunately, my luck changed when I made a request for our next date: my mother’s beautiful garden. To my surprise, my father had taken good care of it. The garden retained its elegant and beautiful look. I still remembered the times my mother and I spent there when she was still alive. All those fun memories still lingered within the garden, as well as the warmth and pride my mother had for it. It made me so happy my father never got rid of my mother’s garden.

My father arranged our date at my mother’s garden. I smiled as my gaze turned to Eliot. To my surprise, he seemed rather mesmerized by the garden, as if he had been there before. I looked at him curiously before the maids brought us to a table under the red horse chestnut tree. As I looked towards Eliot more, I could see small sparks within his eyes and for once... he smiled.

His smile was rather lovely. I was almost mesmerized myself. This was the first time I had seen him smile this much.

“You seem rather lively... Have you visited this garden before?” I asked him curiously.

“Yes, I have actually... when I was five. A lovely young woman brought me here when I was lost in a forest towards the east. I lost hope, separated from my family with no way out of the forest. But, thanks to the young woman, I was able to reunite with my family once again.”

A forest towards the east? The East was our kingdom’s territory. Had he stumbled upon our territory without even realizing it? Had he perhaps stumbled upon my mother in the same forest he got lost in?

“Did you ever ask for her name?” I asked. I hoped he had, to confirm my suspicion.

“Yes, I did. Her name was Calista Rosewood. Your mother… am I correct, Princess?” he said, as a rather cheeky smile formed on his face. His elbows were set on the table as he brought his hands just below his chin, and his fingers intertwined with one another. He leaned in as he set his chin on top of his intertwined fingertips with that same cheeky smile plastered on his face.

All this time... had he known who my mother and I were? My expression changed from curiosity to shock. I wasn’t expecting him to immediately connect the dots so quickly. My mother never let anyone know she was a royal. For Eliot to know this was shocking. Was he just toying with me? Was this just some kind of joke?

“My lord, don’t toy with me,” I warned, trying to maintain a professional demeanor in front of him, though it seemed almost impossible. It felt as if his gaze towards me had changed when he finally revealed the truth.

“Oh? But I’m not. From the start, I already knew what I was signing up for. You’re the eldest daughter of my savior. It’s only fair for me to repay her, correct?”

“My lord, there’s also other ways you can repay her. You don’t have to marry me in order for you to repay my mother’s kindness.”

“Who said that was the only reason?” Eliot asked as he adjusted his position, leaning back into the chair as he settled a hand onto his lap and crossing his leg over the other while his other hand remained on the table.

“What?” One surprise after the other. This time, I couldn’t keep my professional demeanor. My shocked expression was quite visible at the moment. What other reason did he have for marrying me other than him repaying my mother’s kindness of saving him?

During our date within my mother’s garden, he shared how he met me the day of my mother’s funeral. When he was little, he would frequently ask his father for permission to visit the east just to check

on how my mother’s garden was doing. During his visit, he would notice me from afar, though he wouldn’t dare to approach me.

This I found rather creepy and even told him so, but, to his defense, he didn’t want to approach a crying little girl out of the blue. Instead, he would leave a bouquet of flowers alongside a handkerchief when I wasn’t paying attention. So that explained why I would get random bouquets of flowers and a handkerchief when I used to cry within the depths of my mother’s garden. I couldn’t help but let out a small giggle just thinking of such events.

Eliot told me that during those moments he felt himself growing more attached to me, and eventually without really realizing it, he fell in love with me. His love only grew larger as the years passed.

The rest of the time at the garden, Eliot and I decided to take a walk around. We enjoyed one another’s company more and more as we both got to know each other better.

In the end, I did in fact love him with all my heart and he loved me even more. The memories within my mother’s garden will forever stay in our hearts, a lovely place for such lovely memories.

REVERIE LIKE ELYSIAN

Alyssa would like to apologize for the rushed ending.

Once upon a time, long ago, everything was perfect. The end. A boy stood on a cliff looking up at the enormous Eldritch Tree, scanning its surface and leaves almost as if it was the world’s greatest puzzle. He then turned and faced the horizon behind him, basking in the glow of the sunset, mesmerized by the shifting of the light on the water’s surface. That was, until a figure with movements akin to a ghost came into his view. It seemed as if it were watching him just as he was watching it. Then it turned and seemed to watch the setting sun.

“Who are you?” the boy asked himself.

He briefly covered his eyes as a gust of wind seemed to answer his question. He scanned the shoreline for the figure afterward, only to find it had vanished like it was from a dream, but he was awake. The spike of light on the horizon once again grabbed his attention as the sun disappeared beyond the waves.

“It’s always beautiful, every time,” said someone.

“Agreed,” said the boy.

“It’s just like any other time I have had to ask her for something, except this time I am more informing than asking, which doesn’t make it any easier,” she kept reminding herself as she paced the hallway outside her mother’s room, only pausing to listen if her mother had called her. Her frustration and angst slowly built with each passing thought. “Come on, you got this Rose,” she said to herself as she stopped and stood in front of the bedroom door. The light of the sun caught her eye and reminded her of the evening before, which she spent on the beach, calming her down enough.

“As perfect as things need to be,” her mom said while swinging the door open. “Isn’t that right, my little Rose?”

“Yes, ma. And about tonight… I’m going to be–” she was cut short by her mother’s response.

“Staying out late, yes. Yes, you’ve told me millions of times this past month. Now hurry off to school because what do I always say about punctuality?”

“Early is on time, on time is late, and late is fired,” she said while putting on her shoes.

“Good girl. Now have a good day and be safe,” said her mother while shooing her out the door.

While on the way to school, she saw a familiar student getting bullied in an alley and without thinking, she stepped in to serve her own justice. Afterward, she went to school with a few bruised knuckles and in a better mood, which she would need since she had classes with him today.

The day went on as usual until just before lunch, which is when the day seemed to take a downhill turn for both of our protagonists. Or so it seemed.

The topic that day in Mrs. Jin’s class was uncommon words, which didn’t make sense to the boy because any words could be uncommon if you didn’t know them. Alas, it’s not like he was in

charge of the syllabus, so there was nothing he could really do about it. So instead, he started thinking back to the previous evening and that figure he saw on the beach…

REVERIE ELYSIAN

“Can anyone tell me the definition, tell me the difference between the two, and give me an example for the words that I put on the board?” asked Mrs. Jin.

The class became silent, and all seemed to be focused on the words presented before them, knowing that they would be held back from lunch if they didn’t finish this lesson. One by one, students could be seen using either dictionaries or phones to look for the words. However, defining the words was the easiest part, while finding an example was the hardest. A smile could be seen creeping onto the teacher’s face as she saw hands shoot into the air. She picked on a girl who was the second hand to figure it out.

“Reverie means a state in which one is lost pleasantly in their own thoughts. They differ because one is a daydream while the other houses characteristics like paradise and other things. The best example of someone who embodies reverie in this class would be Ezra since he’s always lost in his own thoughts,” the student explained.

The teacher said nothing, but nodded along with her explanation, then looked for another student. It wasn’t until the shaky hand of a boy in the front row raised that she picked a student.

“Elysian can be described as relating to characteristics of heaven or paradise and it is different from reverie because one is used to define something or someone while the other is typically used to define words. An example of this would be the phrase ‘As perfect as things need to be,’” he said while casting a glance at a student in the back.

“Excellent examples. And with that, I’ll introduce your

project which will be done in pairs that I have already chosen. The assignment is simple. I want you and your partner to give a presentation on which of these two words is closer to perfection. If neither, then I want you to tell me why.”

A girl was calling the boy’s name, looking very irritated and annoyed like he had done something wrong. He scanned the room only to find it practically empty besides her and a few other students.

“You’re Ezra, right?” she said again, this time sounding more like a question. Her eyes searched his like she was looking for something. It eventually occurred to him that she had made no noise as she crossed the room.

“Yes, that’s me. And you are… ” he asked while gathering his things.

“Your partner for this project. So let’s get going. It’s due Monday, so can we not waste time?” she asked as she turned and left the class.

As he followed her down the long corridors in their school, he noticed a few interesting things about his project partner. She was astonishingly pretty, like a flower that had the perfect amount of light. The most fascinating thing he realized, however, was despite the stone they walked over, she made no noise whatsoever, which reminded him of the figure from the previous evening. His mind started to drift off with that thought, and his gaze became fixed on her like she was an art piece that was one of a kind. He wondered if maybe it could have been her that day on the beach, but if not, then where did he recognize her from?

He had been following along quietly ever since they had left the class, which she very much enjoyed. But he had this look on his face like he was studying her. This wasn’t the first time someone had looked at her like that, nor did she expect it to be the last, so she let it slide. She paused and looked around before reaching for a handle that was hidden behind a fake stone pillar.

“Watch your step, the stairs are steep, and I’m not carrying you back,” she said as she swiftly climbed the steps.

As the two were making their way through the forgotten passages of the school, Rose paused when she heard yelling coming from a long-forgotten garden within the school walls. A look of confusion could be seen on Ezra’s face as he watched her open another door in the wall and hop out. He had no idea where he was going. He followed her without question. However, she did not interrupt the situation presented before them, but rather observed the course it was taking. She would only intervene if she had to. Suddenly, Ezra could be seen with a look of fury on his face, rushing at one of the bullies. Everyone was in a state of shock as the two rolled back and forth in the garden. It was only when Rose stepped in that the two paused long enough for anyone to get a word out. The others could be seen with worried looks on their faces since they all knew about the Thorn Queen’s reputation.

Not a word was spoken between them as they left the hidden garden and she led him through the winding passageways. It was only when she was wrapping his hand that the silence was broken.

“Never knew you could take a punch, let alone throw one,” she noted while applying something that stung a bit to his hand.

“Normally I can’t, but I was reminded of the past,” he shot back.

“Care to talk about it?” she asked while moving to a cabinet to grab what looked like bandages.

“I’m not too sure. Don’t we have a project to work on?”

“We can spare a few minutes. I’m curious what could have possibly made the shiftless Ezra Miller throw punches first and ask questions later,” she said while gesturing to his hand.

“Well, if you insist. I suppose it wouldn’t hurt if someone else knew,” he said while giving her his reddening hand. At first, he was looking at her, but then a few roses on the window sill caught his attention and all the memories came flooding back at once.

“When I was younger, I was walking through the woods. I stumbled upon a fox that was caught in an old hunter’s trap, and it looked at me with so much sorrow in its eyes that I knew if I didn’t

help it was going to die. So I helped it, and over the next few weeks, I brought stuff to help its injured leg. One day, I was making my way back to the location of the trap to place some food there, but the fox was nowhere in sight. I followed the tracks that seemed really fresh, and I found some boys bullying the poor fox. I wanted to do something, but they were bigger than me and I froze. Before I knew it, this girl with hair so red it seemed like it was on fire jumped between the boys and the fox and began throwing stones and sticks at them. Eventually, the boys ran off, and the girl gave me a look that made me feel worse than when I saw the boys messing with the fox. We didn’t speak a single word to each other, but I knew we both had the same thing on our minds, so we both picked the fox up and carried it to this big stump in the middle of some ruins of an old castle. After that, I left, and the girl stayed with the fox. I never saw the fox or her again. So when I saw them bullying that kid earlier, he seemed just as scared as the fox, which filled me with so much anger that before I knew it, I was throwing punches.”

Rose then understood a little why that situation had made him react like he did. It was one of the things that just needed to happen sometimes, like her mother said. However, the story itself seemed to draw up a memory for her, but she couldn’t tell if it was her’s or someone else’s. She got up and moved around to the window that was on the other side of the room from the bay window. After scanning the horizon, she spotted some ruins in the distance and made up her mind.

“Do you see those ruins in the distance over there? Meet me there once school is out. Okay?” She said while pointing somewhere far off.

When Ezra looked at her after staring off into the past, her hair seemed to catch a flame just for a second, and he remembered her name. It was just like the flowers which were his mother’s favorite and ironically also the flowers that were overgrown in the garden where he found the fox. Smiling, he got up and walked over to look where Rose was pointing in the distance.

“Yes Rose, I see them. But why do you want me to meet you there after school? Couldn’t we just go there together?” He said while trying to make out exactly what it was in the distance.

“Well, Ezra, the answer to your question is simple. I have something that I need to check on first. And because I told Ms. Jin that you would pick up the poster after school,” she said while swiftly moving across the room to grab her bag and slipping out of the room.

The boy was left in the room with his thoughts and a lot more questions than he had answers to, and for once he was unable to daydream because there was something to look forward to in the present. Once school was out, he stopped by Ms. Jin’s class to grab the poster, only to find out that there wasn’t one, and they only had to give a verbal presentation. So he made his way to the ruins that were on the other side of town and actually saw things as they were happening instead of what he wanted to see. He seemed to be realizing that the world wasn’t as bad as he had made it out to be, and he began running to the ruins with everything he had in him. It wasn’t until he neared a patch of overgrown roses that he realized he was in the right place, but before he had the chance to look for Rose, he was snatched into a patch of nearby bushes. Before he could say anything, she shushed him and pointed to something. They both watched as a familiar fox came out of a burrow that was under a big stump. Then it growled and three smaller foxes came out of the burrow below the stump. Rose looked over and saw the puzzle pieces forming on Ezra’s face, but before he could say anything, she got up and beckoned him along.

Ezra, still a little confused by the sight that he just witnessed, followed Rose without saying anything. It was only when she pointed to a grand oak tree did the entire picture come together for him.

“You—” He was cut short.

“I was hiding by that tree that day. I was on my way to give the fox berries that day I met you all those years ago,” she said, smiling brazenly.

When he saw her smile, he knew that she hadn’t known he was the boy from back then just as he didn’t know she was the girl. When she turned and began to sprint, he followed at first, but soon realized where they were going and took a shortcut that he had known about for a while but used very rarely. He split off and ran full speed in a parallel direction. It was only when he grew closer to the gap did he doubt himself, but that evaporated as quickly as it appeared. He cleared the gap with ease and knew instinctively he would get there before her just like she always had before.

Rose was shocked when she got to the Eldritch Tree and saw Ezra standing there waiting for her.

“You took my shortcut,” she said accusingly.

“Yes, I did. But I beat you,” he shot back.

“So you remember it all?” she asked with a sharp crack in her voice.

“Is there something I should be remembering?”

“Yeah, actually. That scar that you have that’s hidden by your hair.”

“How do you know about that?”

“I’m the reason you got it,” she said while moving past him to sit on the ledge. She patted the ground beside her and waited for him to come sit next to her. “The last time someone took that shortcut, they didn’t make it and fell down to the lake below. You were right on their heels and despite how you felt about the water, you jumped right after them.”

“Wait, are you saying I have done that before? But my dad said—” He paused as the memories came back hazily.

“Yeah, it would have been told to you differently because no one thought you would wake up,” she said, her voice shaking.

“But that would mean—”

Rose couldn’t hold the tears back that came to her eyes as she recalled the events that day, so she stood up and moved to lean on the Eldritch Tree.

“I’m so sor—” she was cut short by Ezra.

“Please, don’t apologize. We were kids just being kids. It’s not your fault,” he said without looking back.

“But if it wasn’t for me, then you would never have—” the words caught in her throat as she said them.

“If it wasn’t for you, I would have had a boring childhood. End of story,” he said loudly, as if it was a declaration.

The silence that followed after that was so heavy even the sun itself seemed to be withdrawing its warmth, but slowly the noises of nature crept back in to fill the silence. Even the breeze began to flow once again as if to dismiss the subject.

“You wanna know what I noticed ever since earlier?” He asked while pointing to the steadily falling sun.

“What?” She asked while wiping her tears.

“I noticed that even if something is right in front of us, we as people rarely take the time to acknowledge it, let alone appreciate it. Isn’t that funny? I used to daydream so much that I barely saw the beauty of the town that we live in,” he said while smiling back at Rose, the Queen of Thorns.

“Yeah, it is funny. I, for one, was so set on seeing things as they were happening that I forgot to take a moment to think about the ‘what ifs,’ what things could be if we were in more of a paradise-like place,” she said while smiling at Ezra, the Daydreamer.

The two watched the sunset with a newfound perspective. And to think that this all came to be just because they were given the assignment to describe perfection. They both had to face their own daydream-like paradises. Just for a moment everything seemed to align, and they both had a singular thought that was voiced by the wind itself:

“What if perfection, like a utopia, was as little or as much as they allowed it to be? What if it was both a paradise and a daydream?”

For thy readers that would like to know about the writer K.L., they normally go by Nexus when working on other projects. For this one, however, they decided to be more casual and less cryptic, so let’s thank them for that. They enjoy listening to music (of all genres), trying new food, traveling, and even cooking.

826LA would like to thank to following for their support in making this chapbook possible:

Acknowledgements

Alejandro Ramirez

Cinematic Arts and Creative

Technologies Magnet

Bailee Dolan

Brian Robbins

Chairman & CEO - Paramount Pictures

Diana Martinez

Coordinator/Leadership Advisor -

Helen Bernstein High School

Durand Williams

Emily Nordwind

Emma Hansen

Erin Jordan, Executive Director

Corporate Social Responsibility -

Paramount Pictures

Isaac Diaz

Jack Arouchian

Jaime Balboa

Executive Director - 826LA

Jennifer Lynch

Senior Vice President of Corporate Social

Responsibility & Internal Communications

- Paramount Pictures

Joan Filippini

Justin Broederdorf

Katherine Shaw

Kevin Bryant

Kyra Chau

Lisa Goldfisher

Liz West

Marco Lopez

Marc Weinstock

President Worldwide Marketing and Distribution

Mike Dunbar

Programs & Operations Manager - 826LA

Naleeka “Nelly” Dennis

Naomi Escobar

Natalie Castro

Pamela Amaya

Magnet Coordinator & Computer Science

Teacher - Cinematic Arts and Creative

Technologies Magnet

Rachel Cadden

Rachel Mendelsohn

Sherrie Robertson

Stephanie Aguilar

Manager Corporate Social Responsibility -

Paramount Pictures

Tamar Teifeld

William “Billy” Cutler

Ziggy Viens

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