In celebration of our 20th Anniversary, 826LA dedicates this publication to all of those who have helped make our community what it is, what it was, and what it will become.
Thank you to the students, volunteers, educators, donors, staff, community partners, and time-travelers who have filled the last 20 years with such creativity, joy, and hope.
We look forward to another 20 years in partnership!
THIS BOOK WAS WRITTEN BY THE STUDENTS OF 826LA’S SUMMER WRITERS WORKSHOP PROGRAM IN SUMMER OF 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.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher.
Este libro fue escrito por los alumnos del programa Summer Writers Workshop de 826LA en el verano de 2024.
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 hayan recogido este libro.
Todos los derechos reservados. Prohibida la reproducción total o parcial de este libro sin autorización escrita del editor.
Editor: Trevor Crown
Cover Artwork : Elizabeth Fernandez
Book Design:
Elizabeth Fernandez
A NICE TIME DESPITE THE TERRIFYING EXPERIENCE
By the Students of 826LA’s Summer Writers Workshop
FOREWORD by Davy Rothbart
Through the Sanding of Years by Raven L.S.
Twin Flame by Janelly F.
Shelter and Security by Adan H.
News by Hanna A.
Goodbye by Jimena M.
Distant Soounds of Luggage Wheels by Naomi K.
Alarm by Misha G.
People I Had Only Seen on Camera by Janelly F.
A Nice Time Despite the Terrifying Experience by Marlene T.
Any Moment the War Will Be Over by Jean B.
A Love Story by Edna G. -C
No Other Choice But to Move On by Jonathan S.
Bittersweet by Miles G.
The Moving by Grace T.
Wedding by Jonathan S.
Something Special by Adan H. and Tito O.
Isolation by Andrew P.E
Pride by Justin L.
The Wooden Box by Salma H.
Silver Sea Mollies by Kane L.
Night of the Zombies by Miles G.
Saw 1234567891011121314151617181920 by Misha G.
Ignoring the Growing Burn by Miranda A.
The Orange Light by Gerardo R.
Contact by Tito O.
Warm Concrete by Ivan L.
RE: Saturday by Raven L. -S
Back to the Morning by Edna G.-C.
How Psycho Can You Be by Antonio M.
One Man’s Trash by Adan H.
To Disguise Themselves as Humans by Jarek S.
The Cat and the Portal by Aaron M. L.
Lioness by Salma H.
You Lock the Doors by Tito O.
Wishing To Be In The Deep Blue Sea by Andrew P.E.
She Dreamed of Being Like Her Sister by Nathally L.
Stephanie by the Sea by Hanna A.
Mayday by Salma H.
Sun-bleached by Raven L.-S
A Memory of the Sky by Kane L.
Eight Lives by Gerardo R.
Royalty and Mystery by Edna G.-C.
The Heavenly Clouds by Jimena M.
A Very Happy Life by Sophia M.
Halfway Done by Nathally L.
Respect My Special Day by Emily R.
Despite Her Best Efforts by Naomi K.
I Saw a Foot Appear by Sophia M.
Fully Aware by Emily R.
Soft-Spoken by Miranda A.
Author Bios
FOREWORD
by Davy Rothbart
When I was 10, a new school friend named Blair came to my house for a sleepover. After dinner, I asked what Atari game he wanted to play, and instead he suggested, “Hey, let’s write a story!” I was mystified; this sounded suspiciously like schoolwork. But we found pens and an old yellow pad and over the next few hours fell into shared creative bliss, writing a masterpiece we dubbed “Davy and Blair Fight the Alien Force.” A spark was lit, and I began writing more stories in the weeks and months to come, continuing on my own the following year even after Blair transferred to another school in a distant town.
Writing stories put me in the driver’s seat and allowed me to build worlds from the raw materials of my mind — goofy characters, spooky settings, emotional scenes, intricate plots. A tarantula named Herman explored the ocean deep with the help of his best friend, a submersible robot. Pickpocket elves helped foster a rebellion against a vengeful king. And sometimes the stories landed closer to home, rooted in my own life, acting as a kind of wish fulfillment: a timely home run; a ride on a dolphin’s back. What I remember more than the details of these stories is the feeling of writing them. A feeling of thoughtful Zen-like focus, the rush of crafting a sentence that sings, the joy of characters making choices that felt unexpected even to me. I was filled with a magical sense of wonder as the stories in my head took tangible shape.
I thought of these thrilling feelings as I absorbed the special book you’re holding in your hands — A Nice Time Despite the Terrifying Experience — a collection of stunning, sad, whimsical, and wondrous flash fiction by students in the marvelous 826LA writing program. In these sprightly pieces, teenage authors dazzled me again and again with soulful bursts of imagery, language, and story, building distinctive worlds of their own.
In Raven L.-S.’s “Through the Sanding of Years,” an aging college professor wrestles with the memories of a brother she may or may not have known. In Jonathan S.’s “Wedding,” a fumbled croissant stokes the flames of love. Geraldo R., Jimena M., and Miranda A. pen odes so brief and striking they rival the classic: “For sale: Baby shoes. Never worn.” And in Marlene T.’s titular story, “A Nice Time Despite the Terrifying Experience,” a trip back in time becomes a harrowing, if funny reminder of the ways that life’s greatest adventures can quickly go awry. These great pieces are joined by dozens of others, glittering like stars.
Yet as I read each piece, I couldn’t help but think of the writer writing it — a teenager with a focused look in their eye and an almost imperceptible smile on their face — discovering the joy of writing, and coming to understand their own superpower: a newfound ability to express their ideas and imaginations to strangers like you and me. It’s a startling and meaningful gift.
For many of these students, this book represents their first time becoming a published author. For all of them, I suspect, it won’t be the last.
—Davy Rothbart
Bestselling author, Emmy Award-winning filmmaker, creator of FOUND Magazine, and reporter for NPR’s This American Life
Through the Sanding of Years Twin Flame
Raven L.-S. Janelly F.
Meredith passed the days in a small town in Maine, waiting for her hair to gray and skin to wrinkle in between the logic classes she taught at the local college. Her voice projected but seemed to fall on deaf ears in the large and often empty classrooms she frequented. She was fine living this way, buying enough groceries for herself and her cat, swimming far past the break of the waves and floating there, pretending she perhaps wasn’t a middle aged middle ranked college professor, past her mid life crisis when she divorced her husband and moved across the country. Now she felt that the future promised way less than the past, and her time in between produce aisles and on top of the gentle lap of water was consumed by the very distant past. Her childhood, most often, and the brother she was sure she had then. Jonathan was what she named him in her mind, his real name lost to her through the sanding of years. Blond, an infrequent talker, maybe her best friend, maybe her enemy, she couldn’t make out the details between the fragments of memory, or maybe they were dreams, that carouseled through her mind in moments of quiet. She liked to imagine they were close, though. That it was them against the harsh edges of the world, pulling each other tighter before foster care and miles in between made him a memory, a feeling, a concept. She wished she could’ve saved him, if he needed saving, maybe she just fancied herself a savior. Whatever the motivation, she decided she had nothing better to do than find this long lost brother, and maybe finally become central to someone, at least herself if not him.
As I was getting ready to cross the lonely street, I walked past Eddy, the homeless man with only one shoe and a beard that made him appear old. I saw him every day on my way back to my apartment. Each day we exchanged a hello and continued on with our day. I had never had a back-and-forth conversation with him, though. At times, I caught myself staring at him and wondering about his story, his thoughts, how he got to this place, or why he was the way he was. I usually saw him with a bottle of liquor, in and out of consciousness. Today, I finally built up the courage to go up to him and have a conversation with him. As we started talking, he told me about his life. I was impacted by the words he spoke, the knowledge, and wisdom he had. That was a year ago now. When I think back on that moment, the last thing on my mind was him ending up as my twin flame. Not only has his wisdom impacted me to become a better person, but it has also showed me a different side of life. My guidance helped him get off the street and into rehab, where he was able to get his life back.
Shelter and Security News
Aidan H. Hanna A.
Home can be wherever you are most welcome. But for me home is where I feel safe and secure. It doesn’t have to be only the place you live at or sleep at. I have multiple “homes” that arent my house but I still have shelter and security there. You can live somewhere for years and never feel right calling it home because it doesn’t have the security and the coziness a home has. Home isn’t just a house, it can be the library, it can even be here at 826LA. With all that being said, a home is somewhere you can be you.
This just in: there has been a report of a person dressed as a cowboy looking for a saloon.
Goodbye Distant Sounds of Luggage Wheels
Jimena M. Naomi K.
As I sat in the audience, I felt that at any moment I was going to explode. I felt my future so close to my hands. In the next hour I was about to step into adulthood. I put on my cap, the cap that held the dazzling tassel that swayed above my head, the tassel that I dreamed of everyday in high school. I looked behind me and I could see my family from many seats away holding bouquets of flowers, leis, and signs that said “Congratulations to our beautiful daughter!” As the final guest speaker of our graduation ceremony started to speak on stage, she repeated the same cliche that every person says: “You did it, you survived high school.”
But instead of cringing at this phrase or sighing heavily like my classmate sitting next to me, I started to feel heavy, heavy to the point that my soul clenched my chest. I felt my soul grabbing my rib cage and tugging on my heart.
“Hey, we’re leaving for the stage.” I looked around: everyone had already walked towards the stage. I quickly stood up from my chair and followed the line of graduates.
“It’s time!”
“Finally, freedom!”
“I can’t wait to leave this old place.”
People pushed me around with excitement, they jumped around, I heard the names of my classmates being called as they one by one received their diplomas. “Hey, keep the line moving, why do you keep standing there?”
“Sorry,” I muttered and looked down. Drops of water landed on my gown and I tried to wipe them off with my hand before being called up on stage. My name was called, I stepped onto the stage, and a strong light hit my face. I walked slowly, claps were heard, whistles were blown, and cheers from my friends rang out. I shook my principal’s hand and took my diploma.
Goodbye, stinky school lunches. Goodbye, Calculus. Goodbye comforts of my home, goodbye back-to-school shopping, goodbye laughter with my friends, goodbye to my mom dropping me off at school everyday, goodbye to my childhood. That’s what this was all about, the ending of my childhood, and I just didn’t feel ready for that.
Hours went by and the sound of the airport became deafening. No phone, no books, nothing to do but to just sit and watch as people went by. The whole building was loud with crowds of people rushing. My mind became blank until all I could hear was indistinct talking and the distant sounds of luggage wheels rolling across the tiles. I felt as if it had been hours just staring at the clock, watching the second hand tick.
Alarm People I Had Only Seen on Camera
Misha G. Janelly F.
Joel didn’t want to leave home, but his home was on fire.
The women who practically raised us not existing in the same world gave me goosebumps. Finally, I heard, “flight from California to Mexico.” I still remember the lady’s voice like it was yesterday: the boredom, the raspiness, and the irritation in it. I held my sister’s arm as if I was a kid trying not to get lost in the crowd, and hoped everything went as planned. We landed in Mexico after what felt like an eternity and I got to meet the people I had only seen on camera. The family I talked to every day through the phone but had never been able to see in person. They were almost like strangers, yet when I saw them I felt so much love and warmth. They pulled me in close enough to to smell the fragrance of vanilla and their soft skin on mine. The comfort I felt was a feeling of home, being able to connect with family I’d never seen in person before and make such powerful connections with them in just one hug. Although it was one of the most traumatic moments of my life it was also one of my most heartfelt moments. I can never forget the love and gratitude they showed me.
A Nice Time Despite the Terrifying Experience Any Moment the War Will Be Over
Marlene T. Jean B.
Do you remember when I took you back in time just to show you how huge insects were back then? Yeah, I apologize for that. I thought you would like it since you never seem to mind bugs, especially spiders. You seem to really like spiders. Seeing you grab and beat the ever-living life out of a dragonfly when it flew towards you was an interesting sight to say the least but I probably would’ve done the same. Though I do hope you had a nice time despite the terrifying experience.
Dear John,
It’s been a long 20 years and I still can’t forget about these wonderful days we had before I went to the army to fight for our small beautiful country, Italy. These times were when we would pass the cafe and smell the sweetness of the bread. But don’t worry, I still see you when you’re sleeping at home not knowing that I may get in trouble for sneaking off the base. Even though I have been gone, I sneak every night to at least see you sleep. And even though the time is difficult for us, don’t forget about me. You’ll see, any moment the war will be over and I’ll be home right next to you, my love.
A Love Story No Other Choice But to Move On
Edna G.-C.
He lied, she died, roses wilted.
Jonathan S.
As Matthew woke up from his two-hour nap after his chat with a fellow peer, he felt as if the air in the room got a lot heavier and colder. His hair stood on end at the slightest movement, yet he felt no fear. He went to the restroom in his home and checked the mirror, where he saw his face was red and warm, eyes bloodshot, a ring of liquid surrounding them. Sighing loudly, he decided to not worry too much about it, yet it was something that he couldn’t ignore.
That deep, dull feeling that was so incredibly light, yet was pounding in his head and making him teary-eyed and pensive. Feeling like he had no other choice but to move on, he went on to work his job as a salaryman in a relatively small building, located in downtown Chicago. The drive there was rather dull. As the music he played, it didn’t affect how he felt at all, and instead he focused on the nearby warehouse on fire, neglected by any firefighters.
Eh, he thought, not bothering to dial the fire department, but instead trying to admire the scenery, as he rarely saw anything interesting. Despite his efforts, he couldn’t take it all in, and this thought left him to sulk even more. He sat in his well-driven ‘94 Nissan truck, which had nearly 400,000 miles on it. 399,991, only a few left to go, he thought as he looked at his rather dusty odometer, and shifted away from the fire, into 2nd gear. His truck jolted violently, as if it were an animal showing discomfort. He cursed and sputtered, as hitting himself with the steering wheel near the nose made him bleed. Fixing his mistake, cleaning up, and shifting to first gear, he pulled over a few blocks later toward his office, only to find that he had mistakenly gone off to work on a holiday. Seemingly snapping out of his glass-eyed state, he began to laugh, feeling relief for the first time in what would appear to be fifteen minutes.
Bittersweet The Moving
Miles G. Grace T.
Alright, this is the big day. I’m going to ask her to be my girlfriend. However, if she says no everyone will make fun of me. I’ll never be able to show my face in school again and no one will love me. Come on man, get it together. We’re doing this. “Will you be my girl?”
“Yes!”
A few years later, I broke up with her. She was cheating on me, which is a little bittersweet because now I can get a new girl.
Who would have known this would happen? I think to myself smiling. When I was younger, in like 3rd grade there was this boy who I hated with all my guts, and I think he knew too, and he would taunt me about it, and laugh, and I would be embarrassed. I never really knew the reason why I felt this way about him. I don’t think he wanted me to hate him but I did. One day randomly he didn’t appear. The next day he didn’t either. He never came back. The first couple days it didn’t really bother me, but then after those days I felt lost and empty. It made me hate him more, but this time it was different than when he was here. I think I missed him.
In middle school, in 7th grade he came back in the second semester. I didn’t know it was him but then after a while I figured it out. I came up to him and struck up a conversation, which went and flowed very smoothly. After that conversation we became friends, the best of friends. We laughed and had good times and bad times, and in those bad times we would talk it through. I hoped it would never end. You would assume after those words, he would leave me and I would end up feeling like a squashed bug or something, but this time I did the moving.
I had to leave and so the last day of school, I told him I wouldn’t be back for 8th grade, and that I had to go. I’d been planning to ask him for his social media or his number, or just any way of contacting him. Though the most crushing thing yet in this story was that I forgot. Already feeling like a squashed bug, I now felt like I was run over and dead, like my heart had stopped beating. I thought I would never see him again, yet again. Some days I would just stare at a wall and think about everything and how I wished things would be different or wished I had never met him or just hoped things would be better.
After a while I learned to forgive myself and moved on with my life. I met different people, some came, some left. A bunch of up and downs, but at the end of the day, I would be okay. In college, where I am now, I met him yet again for the third time in my life. We had a class together and reminisced about our past, got each other’s numbers, and became friends.
Now, I’m getting ready for a date with him today, and I look at myself in my mirror, almost done getting ready, remembering all of this. I never thought this would end up happening. Who knows what’s left for us though?
Wedding Something Special
Jonathan S. Adan H. and Tito O.
Well, let me tell ya about something funny about Davie over there, before his wife goes into labor. When he met Delphina, David dropped his croissant like an idiot and we all laughed at him when he went to pick it up, but he knew that we would go get him another one after he threw this one away. Well would ya believe it if the most cliche thing happened?
He bumped into a girl on the way back and somehow they started talking. Mind you, this girl was absolutely stunning and there was no real reason to talk to David, who was a solid 7/10, which actually isn’t that bad, so scratch that. They both sit down at our booth and she’s introduced to a solid few of our coffee drinking buddies, and we all start to talk, which is funny since we’ve never met this lady in our lives before.
Anyway, we don’t think much of it till Davie goes off with this lady, and we didn’t hear from him for the rest of that day, or well, that week, and well, we let ‘em be, cheering for our boy behind his back. It’s been an amazing six years now, watching them bond over the simplest things. It’s rather adorable, really. Even more impressive that it started because of this thing!
(Holds the moldy croissant in a hazard bag.)
Can ya believe something so great was sparked because of something so small and seemingly insignificant? Ladies and gentlemen, the foundation of this marriage!
Adrian and Lisa walked out of the school holding hands. Randy saw this from his English class window. He quickly got out of his seat and ran out of the school towards them. Randy approached both of them.
“Lisa! What are you doing with Adrian?”
“He’s walking me home.”
“I thought you were gonna be with me forever!”
“Randy, we only dated for a week.”
Randy stared at Lisa dumbfoundedly.
“W–well… I thought we had something special!”
“Goodbye Randy.”
Lisa and Adrain walked away from Randy. Randy turned around and walked in the opposite direction. Randy started thinking to himself, “Stupid Adrian, what does he have that I don’t?” Randy picked up a rock from the road and threw it at a tree. The tree started to rustle as a family of raccoons jumped out. They all stared at Randy growling. They all jumped towards him and started to attack him.
When he went back home after the fight he went to brush his teeth only to realize he’d gotten a tooth knocked out and it was still in the street. After everything they’d been through, after seeing her with him, it was like none of it ever mattered.
Isolation Pride
Andrew P.E. Justin L.
A phone is used for different intended or unintended purposes. It can be used as a serenade of one’s own voice, it’s an art that we make that flows like the ocean. A phone can help resonate a piece of music to our hearts, it’s also something we can use to destroy like a bulldozer. A phone can trap us in a shell like a clam, or keep us warm like a scarf. A phone can separate us through the need of being high in popularity, it’s also something that divorces us from one another through isolation from the real world.
“Pride’s going to be the death of you and you and me and you and you and you and me,” says the book before I toss it away.
I enter the classroom feeling energized and ready for anything that is thrown my way. I glance around the room seeing disgusted and angered expressions as I walk to my seat. However, I keep my head high, as these people don’t know what it’s like to be the best.
“Hey, can I take a seat here today?” a girl asks. “This is the only seat left near my friend.”
I ignore her and sit them with all my school supplies ready on my desk.
“Uh, sorry,” she says. “I’ll just move.”
Finally, a sense of relief since I can never be controlled by a random nobody. I continue during the lesson and I focus on my work. I raise my hand to answer a question, and as always, I get it correct. I turn and see the expressions on my classmates’ faces. They look so dumb, I think to myself, thinking they look tough with those angry faces. As I pack my things away, I notice a little piece of paper on the ground and I pick it up. As I read the paper I laugh and throw it away. Who are they to think they can beat me in a fight? Don’t they know I’m the best at karate and finished at the top of my class?
I leave my school at around 3:15 P.M. to find that someone is hiding in the corner of the tree I had planted when I was younger. I look to check it out and I see that it is my classmate. A blaring whistle comes out of her mouth and I hear a stampede of my classmates charging at me with different types of weapons.
I get ready in my stance to fight them all, gearing up my fist to punch the living hell out of everyone, as I’m greeted with a great pain to my chest. I realize I forgot one crucial detail as my life drifts out of me. I fall to the ground seeing the girl who had blared her whistle pulling out a bloody dagger, the same girl who asked me for my chair.
I don’t feel the kicking, the punching, and the hitting anymore. As I try to take my last breath, I am greeted by the thought of the book I read this morning. “Pride’s going to be the death of you and you and me and you and you and you and me.”
The Wooden Box
Silver Sea Mollies
Salma H. Kane L.
It all happened because I forgot to lock the family heirloom for once, the mahogany box in the basement, so keep that in mind. The next morning, I’m drinking my cold whiskey with my mates. Cheering and sitting down to watch the game. Suddenly, the program was rudely interrupted: breaking news of a little girl who went missing for a week had safely returned to her parents and community. She was so stunned from what happened, she couldn’t speak a word.
“Her parents claimed that they last dropped her off at soccer practice. They came back to the park the same afternoon only to hear from the coach that their “friend” had come to pick her up,” the news reporter stated standing in front of the parents’ lovely home.
The bar patrons looked at each other in awe in thinking what she had to go through, how her family was thinking.
While the crowd and family were relieved and welcomed the girl home with open arms, I was the opposite. I sprinted out the door of the bar and towards my car. I could feel my breath trembling. I unlocked the car and raced home despite traffic. I ignored all the “Howdy do’s” from my neighbors tending their petite gardens and cooking out. I didn’t waste time smelling the fresh meat that I would normally kill for.
I zig-zagged my hand in my pocket looking for my keys. I rushed inside the house and didn’t even think to take off my shoes. I scurried down the stairs, almost crashing into the wall. I scrambled the keys in my hand until I found the correct one, and unlocked the basement door. I walked towards my long wide wooden box, with holes poked through, and open wide with scratch marks. I gazed at the small, fragile window above. I asked myself with my head in my hands, “How did she escape?”
If only someone would have told me how much things would change after that day, maybe, just maybe I could have changed the way things turned out. But as I stood over your unmarked grave all I could do was think back to that oh so fateful day where everything changed. It was cloudy like it always was but still not cold enough to keep us inside, so we ran through the woods like a pack of wolves not because we had somewhere to be but simply because we could. That was until we heard that deafening sound, the one that made us all decide at that moment that we had no other choice but to run without looking back if we didn’t want to get caught by it. I was never as quick as the rest of you but still I held on not wanting to be the reason someone got caught. However in my hurry I didn’t see them in front of us, I didn’t see the rest of you change direction, I didn’t hear you all calling my name, I didn’t understand why you tackled me, I didn’t understand why you told me to keep running. I could not feel my legs at that point but you wouldn’t let me slow down and we finally caught up to the others or so I thought. When I looked back you were nowhere to be seen. I, along with the others, was too afraid to go back to search for you so we waited and waited until you eventually came out but it never occurred to me that maybe not all of you came back that day.
I wish I could go back. I wish I could go back and save the part of you that never left that forest, so as I look at your unmarked grave I hope that you can forgive me. I looked around and actually noticed that today is the same as that day, cloudy and not too cold. I brought you your favorite flowers, silver sea mollies, in honor of you.
Night of the Zombies
Saw 1234567891011121314151617181920
Miles G. Misha G.
I heard a quick banging on my front porch door while I looked at the painting. I heard a loud moaning on my front porch door while I looked at the painting. I heard an inferno crashing on my front porch door while I looked at the painting.
It all started with a nice cool sunset. Simon was on her way walking home. She had a busy day at work so while walking all she could think about was finally having a nice dinner and watching TV.
After walking for 10 minutes she heard footsteps behind her, as if they were following her. She stood still since she was thinking of all of the bad and horrible possibilities. Then she had this sudden urge.
Simon was running and bumped into a rock and started falling and falling until she passed out and woke up in a room with a chain on her leg. “Hello Simon,” said a voice. “I would like to play a game.”
“No no, please help me, no, game over, no!”
She had to watch an ad on YouTube.
Ignoring the Growing Burn The Orange Light
Miranda A. Gerardo R.
As she ran through the thick dense fog that blanketed the forest, she could still hear the crunch of dried leaves still trailing behind her. “A tree,” she thought as one came into view. Blood pumped through her veins, making it the only thing she could hear, feel. Although her legs begged her to stop she pushed through, ignoring the growing burn in her lungs, for once she was glad that her adrenaline kicked in as it made the pain bearable. She knew the price that would come upon her if she stopped running, “It” would catch her, hunt her down until there was nowhere left to hide. Quickly, she ducked behind a tree and held her breath, mentally cursing to her heart to stop beating so loudly that she was certain that “It” could hear her. Silence rang through the woods, both a blessing and a curse, a double-edged sword.
It had been a long day of dragging one foot in front of the other. The eroded street lamp was barely able to choke out a dim orange light. The concrete cracked with every stroke, mimicking the sound of crunching glass. The fence gates cried with every cold breeze.
Exhaustion shifted my vision, mutating the dark. The road darkened as the orange light gave out its dying breath. My shadow grew darker by the minute. Soon enough the shadows took the form of another.
Contact Warm Concrete
Tito O. Ivan L.
Edward opens his eyes and looks up at the ceiling, waiting for them to adjust to the morning light. He rubs his eyes trying to adjust quicker, but his eyes never adjust.
He frantically looks around his room, everything in his vision looks blurry, and he’s unable to distinguish anything in his room. He reaches his hand over to the nightstand and feels a fleshy object. He quickly lets go and inches away from his nightstand. He feels something grab his right hand, and then his left, and then both of his legs. Edward, completely detained, tries looking around again but can’t see anything except for a blurry, shadowy figure in front of him. He closes his eyes hoping it’ll all go away.
His eyes get forcibly opened by fleshy fingers. Two shadowy limbs get closer to his eyes holding two half-cylindrical clear objects. The creature places the objects on Edwards eyes. Edward closes his eyes rapidly and breaks free from the creature’s grasp. He rubs his eyes frantically, and then opens them.
He’s able to see his room perfectly.
He hears a quiet noise under his bed. He checks it but there’s nothing under him.
He’s completely alone.
Benji ran and tugged at Nia’s arm. He was full of energy today. Nia was drained after having received some disheartening news. Her body ached and felt heavy with the need to sleep. The lights around her caused her head to spin. Disoriented, she stopped walking and without realizing it, her hand had let go of the leash. She realized that there was no Benji near. She dropped on the warm concrete sidewalk as she thought of everything that had happened today. I can’t do anything right. I can’t solve anything and have now lost my dog.
RE: Saturday Back to the Morning
Raven L.-S. Edna G.-C.
Hi Jen,
I hope you are having a great week so far. I just wanted to check in with you about the company dinner on Saturday, because I believe this can be a learning experience for both you and the team. When you arrived an hour late we didn’t really mind, life gets in the way, and we respect that. When you ordered six drinks on top of your “pregame” (you told us about it when you arrived, but we don’t know if you wished to share this information, given the state you were in, so we hope you don’t feel that we’ve overstepped a boundary), finishing those before eating the dinners of the other team members, we were concerned for you and your health. When you proceeded to run to the bathroom, but retched just outside its door to the dismay of the kitchen staff, we truly felt sorry and compassionate for the hard time you were going through. But, with our utmost respect, when you insulted Mary’s two month old sourdough starter, calling it a “devilish embryo of gluten,” we couldn’t let this comment slide. Given the circumstances, we’ll be holding a team meeting to have an open and honest conversation about these hurtful comments. By no means is this a targeted discussion, we think this will be a truly helpful conversation for our whole team. We hope you take no offense to these words, and hope to see you at the meeting Monday morning at 8am. Thank you.
Best, Sarah
YOU’RE FIRED. Those are the first words my prospective boss tells me. I wasn’t even hired! I wanted to say, you can’t fire me if you never hired me! But his face was telling me it was better to not say anything and just get out of there, fast. As I quickly tried to get my things together, I thought about building a time machine, going back to that morning and just staying in bed. My poor brain. My mind wandered back to the morning. How could it have gone so wrong?
How Psycho Can You Be?
Antonio M.
“Nothing makes sense. Nothing makes sense,” I said.
This mind I got has its maze. But its entire focus would begin with the unexpected mistake of my employment situation. I had gotten a slip of paper with an address to a building that my mom’s friend recommended I start working in, as it had great benefits for graphic designers. I had just graduated from college with that major after learning it for four years, and I was excited to start making a living. I entered the complex and was greeted by a lady.
“Hello dear, what brings you here?”
“I was here for a job interview.” I replied.
“Ok well you can walk out or just enter in the elevator.”
“Ok… I’ll just go for the second option?” I answered, puzzled by her two different responses.
I went into the elevator and up to the second floor, where an employee came up to me.
“Hello, isn’t it Laura for the interview?” She questioned.
“Yup, thats me!” I admitted.
“Good to know! I’m Prim. I frankly don’t want your brain to combust if the lady by the counter caught you off guard!” she chuckled.
“Yeah…” I replied confused again by this second encounter.
“So was it graphic design, or photography you applied to join Laura?”
“Graphic design.” I replied.
“Ok. Well I’ll take you to the main office and write you down as an applicant for photography.”
“Uh… No. It was graphic design.” I pointed out.
“Yeah, photography…” Prim explained.
“I don’t think you understand,” I said.
“Oh… I get you. You’re just creating jokes,” she said as she smiled while I frowned.
“I’m sorry, I’ll be right back Prim.” I was frustrated as I walked back to the elevator.
“You still want me to–” she said as the door shut.
I walked out of the elevator downstairs and started to question. “Nothing makes sense. Nothing makes sense. Why blurt nonsense? Is this a dumb company? Was this all made for a joke? Did they even know I was applying?”
I was so confused. I looked back at the building until I saw the sign, and read the corporation’s name.
“Psychotic Arts”
“What media is psychotic?” I questioned. “Reverse Psychology? Wait, they do reverse psychology here?!”
It all made sense now! Every line an employee said was the opposite, but made it sound serious! So maybe I just wasn’t educated enough to understand what was going on. I sighed as I finally got a sense of what they’d meant in their incorrect responses.
Then Prim from above announced from an open window, “Laura, I’m sorry for the no consent, but I signed you to photography.”
It was silent for a moment.
I sighed in defeat.
“If you don’t desire this, meet me and we’ll take you off to the other format.” She said as I sighed again, slightly more relieved.
“But you’ll have a month to continue working in this format before we can take you to your inclined position.” She said as I sighed yet again to keep a raging scream in my head.
“I’ll come up soon Prim,” I said with slight guilt. Too bad this might affect the paycheck, but at least it wasn’t permanent. I’ll continue working here. At least I know a bit of photography… Hey! That doesn’t mean I’m that bad compared to who’s reading this!
One Man’s Trash To Disguise Themselves as Humans
Adan H. Jarek S.
Peter the Raccoon is aggressive and he’s crazy and he likes trash. What Peter wants most in the world is my leftover tacos that I threw out on Tuesday. Peter wants to acquire these tacos to feed his raccoon family and his raccoon babies.
There was once a gray tabby cat named Toby. He was an indoor house cat who often went on little adventures outside of the house when his owner left to go to work. Toby explored the outside world along with his friends who happened to be the neighbors’ pets. He usually went out and robbed the fish store with his friends because his favorite food was fish.
He hated swimming and water so the fish store owners usually countered his robbery with water. Toby and his friends often ran away when they got sprayed with water, and the fish owner threatened to call the pound. Toby did not want to go to the pound so they worked daily to come up with more counters against the water and the threats. One solution was to disguise themselves as humans. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. So they are still coming up with more solutions, hoping one will work all the time.
The Cat and the Portal Lioness
Aaron M. L. Salma H.
One day a cat came out of nowhere and said to a kid, “I am from the future,” and said that the kid needed to do something to help the environment. The kid asked what he needed to do and the cat said he needed to get a water bottle out of the trash can. They headed outside to find the water bottle and put it in the recycling, and when the cat opened his portal they saw the Earth in better shape.
The kid asked if he was a time traveler but the cat said, “I’m not a time traveler. I’m a space traveler.”
Penelope Popagoda rode the streets in the wind at 2am with her friends in Hong Kong. Penelope led from the front, and she felt proud to be like a lioness leading her pride. Suddenly there was a pop, and a pothole met her front tire. None of her friends had a spare, so they agreed they would walk up near town and ask for help.
Penelope choose to stay, because the moon was hitting the center of sky and the thought of her friends seeing her made her shiver. When her pride came back it was too late, they already saw the fur growing on their lioness’ skin.
You Lock The Doors
Wishing To Be In The Deep
Tito O. Andrew P.E.
You want to go to the Zoo, but it’s too far to walk. You need to drive, so you need to get a license. You go to the DMV and ask for a license, but they tell you you need to take the driver’s test. So you walk towards a driving instructor’s car. You step into the driver’s seat, the driving instructor entranced with the clipboard in front of her. You start the car.
“What are you, stupid?” she says. “You can’t drive until you make sure everything is adjusted for you!”
You get annoyed. You make yourself comfortable, and then start the car. You start driving, and she starts taking notes.
She gets a phone call, while you keep on driving. “Hello? Yes, I’m with him right now. What? No, that doesn’t make any sense. I’m with Daniel right now... Okay, I’ll figure this out.”
She turns and asks you, “Were you scheduled for today?”
You stare at her, saying nothing.
“Who the hell are you?” she says.
You stop the car. She starts shouting at you.
You lock the doors.
Blue Sea
If I don’t kill others, I will starve. If I don’t continuously swim, I will get caught. If I get separated from the pod, I will be relocated. If I don’t comply, I will die. If I don’t complete training, I won’t get fed. If I could communicate, it wouldn’t be as tough. If I don’t attack the trainers, I won’t get punished. But my instincts say otherwise.
She Dreamed of Being Like Her Sister Stephanie by the Sea
Nathally L. Hanna A.
Sarah was getting her stuff ready to go to the swimming practice she had on the weekends, sometimes on weekdays, whenever she was free. She had loved to swim since she was a little girl because she got it from her sister who also used to swim when she was younger. She dreamed of being like her sister.
After Sarah was done packing her stuff she asked her dad to drop her off at swimming practice. When her and her dad got there her dad told her that he was going to park his car and asked Sarah to wait before she could get out of the car but Sarah didn’t hear her dad because she had her headphones on.
Sarah thought she was safe to get out of the car since her dad had stopped for a few minutes but the reason he had stopped the car was because he was trying to find parking. So Sarah opened the car door but she tripped over her bag and fell right outside the car. Her dad didn’t see so he moved the car and while Sarah was still on the ground. She didn’t have the chance to tell her dad to stop the car so then the tire of the car ran over Sarah’s ankle she screamed in pain.
Her dad stopped and noticed Sarah was there on the ground with her ankle bleeding. Sarah’s dad was panicking and tried to help Sarah while he called 911 and told them what happened. After he called them he picked up Sarah and tried to be careful not to hurt her ankle even more. While they were waiting for the ambulance he tried to calm Sarah down because she was in a lot of pain and crying.
Stephanie is a 20-year-old who doesn’t like social interaction. Stephanie does not enjoy music. She likes to wear dresses.
Stephanie enjoys thinking about the time when she was given a bouquet of flowers by her older sister Maria. Stephanie lives in the 18th century in a small medieval town by the ocean. Stephanie has three older sisters. When she is in a big group setting, you will most likely find her in a corner reading a book. For Stephanie her world only consists of her small seaside village. She does not enjoy swimming in the ocean and in fact doesn’t know how to swim.
Stephanie wasn’t always this way. There was once a time when she was extroverted. But she got into an accident and hit her head. When she woke up in the hospital room she was confused and didn’t know anything about herself. Her family knew she would regain her memory but they didn’t know her personality would change.
Mayday Sun-bleached
Salma H. Raven L.-S.
Jason loved swimming in seawater, but couldn’t stand the thought of being on a boat. The stench, the sickness, and the thought of no land in sight terrified him. So when his mom invited him to spend a week on a cruise with her and her dumb boyfriend, he refused and made an excuse saying his sister needed help with finals. A week passed, and his mom didn’t call or text, so he assumed she must’ve run off with someone else again. Jason asked the mailman, who his mom had dated behind her boyfriend’s back, if he knew anything but he fibbed and said he didn’t even know Jason’s mother. The next day, the news proved his fears to be accurate once they explained an iceberg dodged too late.
It was an unassuming thrift shop, large white letters painted on a tin sign “Edna’s Thrift.” It was one of those places that seemed to resist the weathering of time, until one day you would drive past and see that all those built up years had crashed over it and washed away to reveal a derelict and more deflated store. Edna’s had survived a few tides in its time, constantly repaired and replaced until only its foundations really remained the same. And it was in there that I bought this plain and frankly beat up cassette. I didn’t have a cassette player then, what with iphones and everything, but I thought it was cute, really, a cheap little knickknack to make me look cool and esoteric when my friends (who also have no concept of anything before the iphone 22) came over. And for a while its scraped plastic body would sit idly and forgotten on the shelf next to my window. It was only a little over a year later, when my father unearthed an ancient cassette player from the garage that I remembered it, now sun-bleached and faded, leaving a darker patch of wood on the shelf where it blocked the months of light. We popped it in with the satisfying rattle and click of old technology, fully rewinding it to no great anticipation. The sound was much worse than what I was used to, and I was puzzled at the workings of such an ancient device. But while I was taken aback, my father drew closer. He seemed to melt into the music, letting his eyes close and an almost sad smile tickle his face. It was odd seeing him this way as I was accustomed to his distant and stoic personality, so uninterested in my life throughout the years. But this, for whatever reason, piqued his interest, and without me asking he whispered “Radiohead” with eyes still closed.
A Memory of the Sky Eight Lives
Kane L. Gerardo S.
The thought of his sister’s face haunted him every time he sat in the cockpit of a plane but he had to push it to the back of his mind if he wanted to pass his upcoming flight test. Although he was the last Williamson of his family he would not let the tragedy of his past decide his future and he would make them all proud, even his fiancee.
He announced his passing of the test to her with a surprise flight, with her as the co-pilot, and he even brought his cat along so it could experience flight. He had always wanted to make a memory of the sky different from the one that haunted him, and with that the best idea came to mind.
It was such a joyous occasion until he saw the cockpit door open and saw another cockpit through the glass and a single thought passed through his mind: “If only we had a longer time till we had to part.”
Lost cat, white fur, found red.
Royalty and Mystery
The Heavenly Clouds
Edna G.-C. Jimena M.
When I think of purple I think of stars in sky, when the sky looks purple and pretty. I think of the dark purple orchid I once got for my birthday. It feels relaxing and invigorating all at once.
I think of the smell of jamaica and I think of amusement parks. I think of royalty and mystery.
While I flew my family on a plane for the first time, they beamed in delight and wished to stay up in the heavenly clouds forever. We did.
A Very Happy Life Halfway Done
Sophia M. Nathally L.
Once there was a little girl named Abilene. She had long brown hair and beautiful hazel eyes. She lived in a massive mansion with her mother, her father, and younger brother, Austin. She lived a very happy life. Abilene’s family was very wealthy, with loads of clothes and jewelry. They hired and fired many butlers, housekeepers, and cooks.
She was going to try to cook her favorite meal instead of buying it like she would normally do because she wanted to try something new. It started off good since she was following the directions but she didn’t realize that she’d brought some of the wrong ingredients. She didn’t notice until she was halfway done cooking, when her cooking wasn’t looking the way she normally bought it at her favorite restaurant.
When she was almost finished, it started to smell bad and began to burn and she didn’t know what to do. She tried to fix it and to stop it from burning even more but it still didn’t turn out how she wanted it to be.
Respect My Special Day Despite Her Best Efforts
Emily R. Naomi K.
Dang. I can’t stand living in this neighborhood. Things are always going missing. Bikes, cars, trash cans. If it is not bolted down, it will grow legs and walk away.
Bike chains may as well not exist. My bike was stolen when I was 9, AND when I was 11. Both birthday presents! Do people not respect my special day?
One day, my father woke up and his car battery was missing. How did they even get that?
My neighbors refuse to do anything about it. According to them, thieves know better than to break in. What makes them so confident? Don’t they know it could happen to the best of us?
When they arrived home the front door’s glass window had been shattered. They were appalled for a few seconds, then a sudden wave of laughter consumed them.
It was no surprise that Maddie was always late to school. It’s not that she lived super far away, or didn’t have a way to get to school. It was solely because she could not wake up on time. Being late had impacted her in big ways. She had missed so many minutes of school consecutively that sometimes she didn’t know what assignments had been assigned as homework.
Out of all her bad luck, being late actually turned out to be the best thing that could have happened to her during her eighth grade year. It was the first day of school and she was late to her first elective. She sprinted into class seconds after the bell rang. Drats! She was late yet again. Even worse was that her teacher Mr. Ford showed no mercy and began to lecture her on the importance of being on time. She couldn’t hold back her laughter at how ridiculous it was or how the entire class stared at the whole thing and was silent. In the corner of her eye, she saw another girl, Vida, who she’d known since 6th grade, but never really talked to. She saw that Vida was holding back laughter too and could see how silly this whole thing was.
A few classes went by after that. Maddie continued to be late, despite her best efforts. But Maddie and Vida would always hang out after class and play volleyball during lunch. Over time they bonded and became best friends all because of Mr. Ford and Maddie’s constant tardiness.
I Saw a Foot Appear Fully Aware
Sophia M. Emily R.
I never thought that I would become best friends with my worst enemy. Apparently that can happen.
Allison was her name. I remember all the arguments we used to have, the dirty looks we would give each other in the hallway, and let’s not talk about the time we got paired up for that one history project. It all started on my school overnight camping trip.
On my way there I was sitting with my other friend on the school bus watching buildings slowly turn into trees and nature as we drove by. The bus ride was almost an hour long and I kept myself entertained.
I had to use the bathroom and my school had rented one of those big fancy buses that came with one. As I was on my way to the bathroom I saw a foot appear in front of me but it was too late to stop.
Brandon is seventeen years old, born on September 7th, 2006. His father left before he was born due to a troubled relationship with his mother due to his affiliation with local gang activity. With Salvadorian and Mexican roots Brandon suppresses his Salvadorian background as it comes from his father’s side.
Living now with his mother and older sister in a small house in West Hollywood he takes the public bus to school everyday but never makes it to school on time. He sleeps in purposefully and is failing almost all his classes not due to the fact that the work is hard but the fact that it’s tedious, and in spite of teachers he despises. Although he has trouble academically he also is tremendously loud and extroverted with a good heart. His afterschool activities consist of going to the gym, playing video games, and occasionally smoking freshly rolled joints. These habits are not judged by his friend circle except when he smokes nicotine which they deem disgusting.
His first relationship turns out to be toxic and he’s fully aware of it but stays because of his fear of being loved only by that person and no other, constantly getting into trouble and almost committing life changing actions. As much as he’s been told to leave this relationship and gotten advice numerous times he refuses to listen. But yet he still continues to ask for opinions, so much so that people in his close circle of friends call him stupid and he agrees. Text messages appear on his friends phones after a fight he just had with his girlfriend, projecting his determination to break up with her to an audience that already knows it’s built on lies.
Soft-spoken Miranda A.
The wind heard me, he didn’t.
STUDENT AUTHOR BIOS
Hanna A. is a junior in high school. She has three birds and loves to draw.
Miranda A. is an 11th-grade student from Los Angeles, California. She enjoys eating cookies and baking goods for her friends. She’s the oldest sibling, with a younger sister who keeps her on her feet, but she loves her family.
Jean B. is a rising senior at Westbrook High school. He was born in Crenshaw by the jungles but was raised in south central his whole life. He’s a guy who likes to try out new things and try his best even though it may seem like too much for him. He still pushes himself to the fullest. He likes playing soccer and watching it because he feels like soccer is a really big part of his life.
Janelly F. is a junior in high school. She is an aspiring social worker and wants to give back to her community. She loves to read and spend time with her friends.
Edna G.-C. is an 11th grade student from Los Angeles. She likes pretty necklaces and books.
Miles G. is a student at 826LA and Fairfax High School in ninth grade. He likes to do art and animation. He is taking a 3D art class and it’s fun and he can’t wait for next year.
Misha G. is a drummer.
Adan H. is a chill guy from Echo Park. He’s going into Junior year of high school and he likes lifting weights and football.
Salma H. is a junior in high school who once wrote 30 poems in a month during English class. She likes to draw, journalize her thoughts once in a while, critique everything she watches, and find humor in psychological thrillers. She sometimes marvels at movies that reverse roles with what we usually think are heroes and villains. She’s a hilarious person that’s made many people laugh and can’t stand watching gory movies, so that’s why she prefers thrillers at least.
Naomi K. is an 8th grade student at 826LA. She lives in Los Angeles and enjoys playing volleyball with her friends in her free time.
Kane L. is a college freshman who’s favorite pastime is classical music. He’s written a few other pieces and usually uses the name nexus when he writes. He’s also very fond of animals and loves learning language.
Raven L.-S. is going into her senior year and pursuing her interest in art, cowboys, DJ-ing, and reading.
Aaron M. L. lives in Echo Park, and he’s a good driver.
Antonio M. is a 14-year-old freshman in high school. He loves sketching and writing as a student at 826LA, and wishes to pursue a career in the animation industry.
Jimena M. is a rising high school senior in Los Angeles, California. She enjoys writing (specifically screenplays) and helping her community through advocating as well as volunteer work.
Sophia M. is in seventh grade and is from Los Angeles. She has been learning piano for six years.
Tito O. is a Junior in highschool. He studies film/television wanting to pursue it in the future. He likes spending his time writing, video editing, and photography.
Andrew P. E. is a 14-year-old high school student who lives in California. He loves playing videogames, singing, and acting. He competes in videogame tournaments and likes to sing to people sometimes. He is very compassionate and timid, but turns very outgoing and at-ease once he gets to know you, so maybe one day you can be friends!
Emily R. is a rising senior who resides in Echo Park, California. She is part of the International Bachelorette Diploma Program offered at her school. Her current summer goal is to binge watch Brooklyn Nine Nine.
Jarek S. is a upcoming Junior at Downtown Magnet High School. He has 1 sister and ran the Los Angeles marathon 3 times. He likes running, writing, playing video games and music.
Jonathan S. is a senior from Los Angeles, California. He enjoys working out experiments and taking care of his fish, making sure they thrive. He also enjoys going on hikes and playing volleyball with his chums at school.
Grace T. is a 8th grader who aspires to become an artist in the world. She likes drawing, music, writing, reading, and would love to learn all different types of art.
Marlene T., going into 10th grade, is a big and I mean BIG Sonic The Hedgehog fan. A little deranged, even. Perchance. They’re a socially awkward person and quiet when you first talk to them but will become more comfortable over time.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
826LA would like to thank to following for their support in making this chapbook possible: Edward Albright
Kerri Andersen
Shawna Avanessian
Laura Bertocci
JP Cavender
Jack Diener
Max Dweck
Victoria Finch
John Giarratana
Meredith Goldberg-Morse
Larry Gordon
Maddie Graham
Marisa Hardwicke
Jerrika Hinton
Stephen Jakubowicz
Tina Kim
Nora Kipnis
Juan Lobo
Ami Melville
Jordan Morris
Olga Ordaz
Evan Roe
Alexandra Stielow
Leejone Wong
Trevor Worthy
ABOUT 826LA
Vision:
826LA envisions a Los Angeles where every child has access to quality writing education and is empowered to express themselves creatively through writing. We envision a Los Angeles where every teacher is supported in their writing-based educational objectives.
Mission:
826LA is dedicated to unlocking and cultivating the creative power of writing for students ages 6 to 18, and to helping teachers inspire their students to write.
How we advance our mission: A nonprofit organization, our services are structured around our understanding that great leaps in learning can happen with one-on-one attention, and that strong writing skills are fundamental to future success.
With this in mind, we provide after-school tutoring in all subjects, evening and weekend workshops, in-school programs, field trips, college access, help for English language learners, and assistance with student publications.
All of our programs are challenging and enjoyable, and ultimately strengthen each student’s ability to express ideas effectively, creatively, confidently, and in their own voice.
Core Values:
826LA values joy in the service of achieving educational goals. Our community norms value diversity, equity, inclusion, and access. We therefore prioritize partnerships with Title 1 Schools, engagement with historically marginalized populations, and training and deploying community-based volunteers in support of our mission. As a teaching approach, we value creativity, authenticity, empathy, and lively, rigorous, and student-centered writing education. As an educational enrichment organization, we value supporting teachers, principals, and other school staff in the pursuit of excellence.
826LA PROGRAMS JOIN THE FUTURE BESTSELLERS CLUB!
After-School Writing Programs
Mondays through Thursdays, students attend 826LA for after-school writing programs. Students participate in community building activities, work on homework or reading with trained tutors, and of course, write! Students submit their writing for inclusion in chapbooks, which 826LA publishes twice a year. To celebrate students’ hard work, 826LA unveils these chapbooks at book release parties, where students read their work to thunderous applause from their volunteers, families, and peers.
Field Trips
During the week, 826LA invites teachers and their students to our writing labs to participate in a morning of collaboration, creativity, and writing. Whether Storytelling & Bookmaking, Well-Wishing & Poetry, Choose Your Own Adventure, or Memoir, field trips at 826LA support teacher curriculum and student learning by offering a safe space for students to be their most imaginative and to work on their writing skills. In a few short hours, students brainstorm, write, edit their work, and leave with something tangible—a bound book—as well as a renewed confidence in their ability to tell their stories.
In-Schools Programs & Writers Rooms
Because not all students can come to us, 826LA brings specially trained volunteer tutors into classrooms throughout Los Angeles. There, volunteers provide one-on-one or small group assistance with writing projects. 826LA works with teachers to craft all projects, which are designed to engage students while targeting curricular needs. In addition to visiting twenty schools in the Los Angeles Unified School District each year, 826LA has additional sites within Manual Arts High School, Roosevelt High School, and Venice High School called The 826LA Writers’ Rooms.
Workshops
826LA’s workshops bring students together with artists, writers, and professionals for creative collaboration. Whether the subject is journalism or preparing for the zombie apocalypse, our workshops foster student creativity while strengthening writing skills. This program includes two long running partnerships with Paramount Pictures and the Hammer Museum.
Sign up to make a monthly donation to 826LA and you’ll join our Future Bestsellers Club. For as little as ten dollars each month, we’ll deliver writing from our brilliant, emerging authors right to you!
Go to 826LA.org/donate and click on Future Bestsellers Club to join.
STAFF ADVISORY BOARD
Jaime Balboa
Executive Director
Diego Quevedo
Chief of Staff
Shani Foster
Director of Education
Christie Thomas Director of Development
Pedro Estrada
Programs & Operations Manager, Echo Park
Mike Dunbar
Programs & Operations Manager, Mar Vista
Mateo Acosta
Associate Director of Community Engagement
Carinne Mangold
Store and General Operations Manager
Time Travel Marts in Echo Park & Mar Vista
Alma Carrillo
Senior Manager of Strategic Partnerships and Communications
Trevor Crown
Senior Manager of Volunteer Innovation & Assessment
Ariadne Makridakis Arroyo
Senior Volunteer Coordinator
Katie Feige
Institutional Giving Manager
Maddie Silva
Manager of Special Initiatives
Arisdeysi Cruz
Tutoring Program Coordinator
Marco Beltran
Writers’ Room Program Coordinator
Manual Arts High School
Wendy Beltran
Writers’ Room Program Coordinator Roosevelt High School
