The 826NYC Review #11 by 826nyc

V EW

RE I

THE 826NYC REVIEW ISSUE NO. 11

826NYC Books 372 Fifth Avenue Brooklyn, NY 11215 The 826NYC Review, Issue No. 11 ÂŠ 2020 by 826NYC and the authors. All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. First 826NYC edition 2020 Manufactured in the United States of Brooklyn America 978-1-948644-60-0 The writing in this book was produced over the course of the 2019-20 school year during various 826NYC programs. Foreword by J. Courtney Sullivan Designed by Joe Iovino Edited and proofread by Caroline Spiezio, Carly Schnitzler, Elise Ingber, Sophia Cannata-Bowman, Chelsea Bonollo, Melanie McFayden, Nathaniel Pinkman, and Mandy Seiner 826NYC is supported, in part, by public funds from the New York City Department of Cultural Affairs in partnership with the City Council, The Bay & Paul Foundations, The Jane Friedman Anspach Family Foundation, The Minerva Foundation, The Resnick Family Foundation, The Rona Jaffe Foundation, and The Susan Stein Shiva Foundation. Additional support comes from the National Endowment for the Arts. To find out more about how National Endowment for the Arts grants impact individuals and communities, visit www.arts.gov.

826NYC is a nonprofit organization dedicated to supporting students ages six to eighteen with their creative and expository writing skills and to helping teachers inspire their students to write. Our services are structured around our belief that great leaps in learning can happen with one-on-one attention and that strong writing skills are fundamental to future success.

THE 826NYC REVIEW ISSUE NO. 11

TABLE OF CONTENTS C A PA C I T Y 7 0 S T O R I E S

OPEN BOOK......................................................................... FOREWORD..........................................................................

J . C O U R T N E Y S U L L I VA N

Hope is a Lion STO R I E S A B O U T H O P E & LOV E

Selena and the Demon....................................................... 14 HETEP SCHOOLHOUSE

T h e R e v e n g e o f C l o w n B o y .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 6 CAMBA GROUP 3

T h e d a y I l e f t y o u , I s m i l e d . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 9 N I K AY S M I T H

D i f f e r e n t .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2 0 E M M A N U E L WA R D

Y o u ’ l l P r o b a b l y N e v e r S e e T h i s . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

ALESSIA HU

P o s t- i t . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

SABRINA MIZRAHI

L i g h t i n t h e D a r k n e s s.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

KYMANI

D reams & N ightmares.........................................................

ANONYMOUS

E l e c t r i c C a r s P r o s .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 0 ARIELLE JEAN-BAPTISTE

My Love T h a t ’s B u r n i n g . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 1 JAHANI BARRETT

B e s t D a y Ev e r S c h e d u l e.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

ST U D E N TS F R O M O U R L I STO P I A WO R K S H O P

H o p e I s a L i o n .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

B R A DY E P T O N

Unfair.................................................................................. C H R I STO P H E R LO P E Z

T h re e Po e m s.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

JA Z M I N E LO P E Z

N o M o r e R a c i s m .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

JUSTIN CAMPBELL

Free to be Me STO R I E S A B O U T I D E N T I T Y & A DVO C AC Y

E l R e s e n t i m i e n t o .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4 0 K I M B E R LY R I O S B R AV O

Yo u ’re N o t A l o n e . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

LO R R A I N E A N D R I C KS O N

5 Senses..............................................................................

KENNETH CHAPMAN JR.

I ’ m S c a r e d .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

JANIAH HINES

The Rainbow Pin.................................................................. 51 F I O N A OV E R C A M P

Don’t Call Me Ash...............................................................

L I L A S I N OVO I

Pos ter s................................................................................

CAMILLE VITSE

A G o o d Day........................................................................

CRISTIAN

A l l Yo u N e e d is a H a m b u rg e r . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

G AV I N H O L LY- H I L L

S h o u l d S p o r t s B e S e g r e g a t e d b y G e n d e r? .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7 7 S A D E B R YA N T

In Support of a Four Day School Week.............................

CHRISTIAN LEON

B oy s a n d G i rls a re th e S a m e, i n D i f fe re nt Way s. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 81 ANGEL BARNETT

I Am a Piano........................................................................

KARINA HOEFLINGER

I f My L i fe Wa s a S o n g.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

MIA KROSHKA

Tiger................................................................................... S H E N A N D OA H F I S C H E R

As Time Gets Lost STO R I E S A B O U T G R OW I N G U P & T H I N K I N G B AC K

T h e B i g g e s t P r o b l e m.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

ANA ROSAS

D e a r 2 3 Y e a r O l d M e.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9 0 D AV I D C A S T R O

M y B e a r .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9 1 MICHELLE OLMOS

When the Clock Strikes 12..................................................

DELILAH RODRIGO

A Co l d Sum m er...................................................................

JAMEL R. JEFFERSON

O u r N a m e s We re Writ te n i n Sto n e .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

SARAH HARRELL

B re a k i n g t h e Fa s t : A B re a k f a s t D i l e m m a.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

TA M I A J O H N S O N

Co ll e g e So lil o quy..............................................................

DEONDRE BURKETT

During Quarantine.............................................................

TO L A N I A D E Y E M I

H u n g e r .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

100

TYRIQ LIEU KEN-PEN

I n te r v i e w : M i c h e l l e B o a te n g Ta l k s V e g a n i s m . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 0 2 M I C H E L L E B O AT E N G

T h e B l o o d o f K i n g s .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

104

Eâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;NASIA SMITH

Spiraling............................................................................

105

I L A N A G UA R AC A

Pa i n i n th e Sy s te m . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 07 MAURICE

U n t i t l e d.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . FA N TA B A L L O

109

Metrocard in Hand S TO R I E S A B O U T N YC , H O M E , & A DV E N T U R E S B E YO N D

M ovi n g fro m Pla ce to Pla ce.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 114 I S SA C AOT H I E N

G r a n d C e n t r a l.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 1 5 R E N E E R I C E V U TO

T h e R Tra i n . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11 6 MIA CRUZ

I l l u s i o n s .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 1 9 M A L AC H I M A KO S O

D e m o n Tra i n . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12 0 L I SAU RY A DA M E S

N e i g h b o r h o o d.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12 2 C R E SS E I D E JACQ U E S

Fro m Co ro na, Q u e ens........................................................ 127 ANDRES G

Visiting Sing Sing................................................................ 128 EZEQUIEL

Fa m i l y & Fr i e n d sh i p s . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

130

ALEXIA GUZMAN

Poem.................................................................................. 132 J E F F R E Y TO R R E S

Ever y thing was Weird ! S T O R I E S T H AT M A K E Y O U L A U G H

Sis ter G o n e Ma chi n e.......................................................... 13 4 SOFIA MERINO

Th e Ga rd en D estroyin g G oat............................................ 13 5 LIAM CHENG

Piz za Fa l l i n g f ro m t h e S k y.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 3 7 JASON RIVERS

E d w i n o n t h e M o o n .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 3 9 EDWIN SALAZAR SANCHEZ

The Magic Glasses.............................................................. 140 ALEXANDER CABRERA

M i n e craf t............................................................................ 141 JOSIAH WHITE

C r a v i n g s f o r W a r : T h e T a s t y T h r e a t .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 4 2 CAMBA GROUP 8

Th e Si l ly G h os t G o e s to th e M ovi e Th eatre . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14 5 F I R S T G R A D E C L A S S AT P S 1 5 R O B E R T O C L E M E N T E

Chilly ’s on a Mission........................................................... 147 T H E C H I N C H I L L A G R O U P AT P S 3 1 2

P i g l e t P o u c h a n d t h e E v i l C h e f.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 4 9 C L A S S 4 0 1 AT P S 8 0 Q T H U R G O O D M A R S H A L L M A G N E T

El la & t h e My s te r y o f t h e B o o by Tra ps . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 51 C L A S S 2 3 3 AT P S 5 8

Cas tl e is Mys teri o us & H i la ri o us.......................................... 1 5 3 ISAIAH NIEVES

A re Yo u a We e b? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 5 4 FELICIA PEREZ

P a s t a t h e M e a t b a l l.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 5 7 ZO E R OSS A L L E N

2 1 W a y s t o P r e t e n d Y o u ’ r e N o t i n Q u a r a n t i n e.. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 5 8 ST U D E N TS F R O M O U R L I STO P I A WO R K S H O P

A C K N O W L E D G E M E N T S .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .1 .6. 0. . 162

ABO UT 826NYC..................................................................... C LO S E B O O K . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

FOREWORD J. Courtney Sullivan

ost years blur together with the passage of time. We look back, and can’t recall if a certain life event happened when we were seven or eight or nine.

But some years imprint themselves on us and we’ll never

forget where we were, or who we were, then.

We are living through such a year right now.

The lives of young people have been altered more than any-

one else’s by COVID-19. I’ve been amazed by how resilient and flexible they’ve managed to be. How they’ve taken the uncertainty in stride.

I got to speak with a group of 826NYC students early on in

the pandemic—over Zoom, of course—through a program called quaranTEEN voices. We talked about everything they were going to miss out on. Someone’s prom had just been cancelled. Someone else’s high school graduation.

It’s rare that the entire world experiences an event so seis-

mic at the same time. And yet even during a global pandemic, it’s the specificity of individual stories that gets me. That cancelled prom. My own kids, still toddlers, watching TV and hearing the words “wash your hands” set to the tune of “Baby Shark” before every show.

In this volume, you’ll read the work of young writers who

understand the power of their own unique voices. They aren’t afraid to say who they are and how they feel right now. They take

risks in their writing. They are funny and honest and brave.

The written word can do so much. It can preserve history. It

can convey the parts of us no one else sees. It can help us make sense of things. When we read, we travel to other worlds and forget our concerns for a while.

Reading “My Love That’s Burning” by Jahani Barrett, age 16,

brought me right back to my own first heartbreak.

Reading “The Garden-Destroying Goat” by Liam Cheng,

age 11, I got to escape into a story that made me laugh, kept me guessing, and reminded me that sometimes help arrives in unexpected forms.

Reading the poem “From Corona, Queens” by Andres G, I

was in awe: From Corona, Queens where I grew up with nothing that turned to something. From trapping and finessing every day ‘til that one day that all the something turn to nothing again. And there I was, cold and in handcuffs, thinking how bad I messed up. Now 16 months later, still away from home, spending holiday after holiday in the same place, looking back at

how I grew up in the system, but with a better and more mature mindset, trying to be a better me and succeed. Consider this young man, who has been through many trials, but understands that life can go from good to bad and back againâ&#x20AC;&#x201D; that there is always cause for hope.

His vision, and all the others in this volume, are exactly what

we need now.

Secti

Sto r i

on 1

es ab

out H

ope

& L ov

Selena and the Demon Hetep Schoolhouse WRITTEN DURING A FIELD TRIP

elena and her dad went swimming in Atlantis. The two of them go deep into the Twilight Zone and find a sea goddess. The sea goddess said, “If you defeat the sea demon, you can

have any power!”

Selena and her dad said, “We can do it!” They returned to

Atlantis and began doing research on the sea demon’s whereabouts. Selena didn’t have much luck, but she knew about a magical forest with many secrets and made her way over there.

In the distance, Selena heard a rumbling. She saw a giant

wave coming towards her. She began to run away, as far as she could. Selena stumbled into an abandoned ice lab. Inside the lab, she saw a glowing light. She thought it was a creature that was morose and hungry and approached it carefully. As she got closer, she realized it was the sea demon she was looking for. She yelped!

Still in the distance, the rumbling continued. Selena tried

to attack the sea demon, but it fought back. The sea demon’s strength overpowered her, so she retreated. Selena needed help. She tried to head home to her dad. Before she could leave the lab, the sea demon grabbed her leg and pulled her down deeper into the deepest sea. Selena tried everything she could to get out of the demon’s grip.

For a brief moment, she slipped free as she noticed a small

hole that she swam through. The demon tried to recapture her,

but couldn’t fit into the hole. As Selena swam away, she heard the sea demon scream, “Arrrrghhhhh!” Selena found herself back in Atlantis, dazed and confused as to what had happened. She saw everyone screaming and running. Atlantis was being destroyed!

Selena searched for her cousin Joey to help her save the day.

Joey was a Kung Fu master. Selena searched all over the city, but couldn’t find him. She tried calling him, but there was no response.

Selena decided to head back to where she found the demon

in order to slay it and get her power to save Atlantis. And then . . .

TO BE CONTINUED

The Revenge of Clown Boy CAMBA Group 3 WRITTEN DURING A FIELD TRIP

ne day, there was a girl named Leila who lived in a castle in the Flowering Kingdom. She was a princess with a magic wand and fighting stars. Not far from

the castle, in a secret lair, lived a villain named Clown Boy. In his lair, Clown Boy created secret inventions to try to destroy the kingdom. Clown Boy was once a clown doll who had come to life when two boys had spoken a magic word to bring him to life. Clown Boy didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t have a heart, so he was always angry. He wanted to take this anger out by destroying the castle.

One day, Leila was picking flowers in the castleâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s garden.

Little did she know that the night before, Clown Boy had snuck into the garden and poisoned some of the flowers. Leila saw a

beautiful purple one and picked it. Underneath the purple, the flower was actually black and green and poisonous. As soon as Leila picked the flower, the poison from it made her fall asleep.

Just then, an owl flew over the flower garden. This owl was

actually Owl Girl, a superhero who could turn into an owl. She saw Princess Leila asleep on the floor. Owl

Girl

down

flew

into

the

garden and tried to wake Leila up, but she could not.

Owl

Girl

did

her special bird call, “Squaw!” to call her friend Orangutan Man to come help. Orangutan Man was a man who became a monkey when he ate bananas. Five minutes later, he arrived in the garden to help.

“I’m glad you’re here,” said Owl Girl. “Can you try to wake

Princess Leila up with me?”

“How?” asked Orangutan Man.

“Let’s sing a song,” said Owl Girl.

“Princess Leila, Princess Leila,” they sang. “Wake up, wake

up!” But she did not wake up.

All of a sudden, they saw Clown Boy trying to climb the

fence to escape the garden. “Get him!” yelled Orangutan Man. They ran after him and tried to catch him. They chased him all the way to the castle dungeon! When they got to the dungeon, Owl Girl and Orangutan Man set a trap to catch Clown Boy. They

strung out a line to trip him and hung a little circus tent to catch him after he tripped. Underneath the tent, there was a cage. Just as Clown Boy was about to trip over the line . . .

TO BE CONTINUED

The day I left you, I smiled. Nikay Smith â&#x20AC;˘ 10th grade WRITTEN DURING AN IN-SCHOOLS RESIDENCY AT A C A D E M Y F O R Y O U N G W R I T E R S

hrough the cool spring breeze, she sat on the wooden bench. A sigh escaped her pale lips as she did. A noise was heard suddenly when she felt a nudge on her leg, a small,

skinny, brownish, sickly dog appearing in her gaze. She smiled and stroked it once on its head. Her hand received a lick in return. As time went on, they walked, they laughed, they talked, and they loved. By the end of the day, happiness could not help but make itself known. Their day had come to an end, together they left.

Six Word Memoir Blue, the most human, inhumane, color.

Different Emmanuel Ward • 11th grade WRITTEN DURING AN IN-SCHOOLS RESIDENCY AT A C A D E M Y F O R Y O U N G W R I T E R S

ll the sounds of people are gone. Nature seems to be running just fine. It actually looks beautiful outside, but it’s unnerving because of the lack of people and sounds

that normally come from a loud city environment. I don’t miss tastes much because I’ve been eating pretty often. I would say that it smells pretty much the same.

The most unnerving part about all of this, like I’ve men-

tioned before, is the lack of sounds. It’s almost like people outside my house have gone extinct. What’s more unsettling is that every time I do hear a sound, it’s just ambulance noises. It seems almost like the grim reaper. It’s really unsettling. It makes things feel eerier when the only sound you hear is one associated with danger. It’s like waking up one day and realizing everyone is gone—except they aren’t, and in reality everyone is just overcome with fear because something they don’t understand is threatening their average routine of everyday life.

I feel like all of this makes it feel like the world really is ending.

The fear of the people and the paranoia of the uneducated play a huge part in this whole thing. It’s basic human nature to be afraid of something you can’t comprehend. Unfortunately, most of our society is made up of people who listen to what the media spoon-feeds them. Or people who reject help from those with knowledge. Everyone just seems complacent with our current

state of life and it bothers me that it just seems like the world is ending. Everyone is just waiting for the next problem in this world and it is truly disturbing that people are okay with this.

You’ll Probably Never See This but I Thought I’d Say So Anyway Alessia Hu • 12th grade WRITTEN DURING AN IN-SCHOOLS RESIDENCY AT L A B S C H O O L F O R CO L L A B O R AT I V E S T U D I E S

I always thought I wanted to leave this place until I saw you sitting at that desk across the room and the music got louder. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you how many times I packed my bags and slipped out. How my knees froze as I sat on the pavement waiting for you to pick me up and wrap your sweater around me once more. All I ask is for you to take the train with me

and listen to Tabby all night long.

I want to take back my words and swallow them.

I want you to remember that day we got lost in yellow hallways, how that man in the wheelchair told us weâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;d be a cute couple and the way you held me like a puzzle piece.

Post-It Sabrina Mizrahi â&#x20AC;˘ 12th grade WRITTEN DURING AN IN-SCHOOLS RESIDENCY AT L A B S C H O O L F O R CO L L A B O R AT I V E S T U D I E S

If I left you a drawing on a Post-it, Would you crumple it up, Let it fall to the bottom of your bag To get lost in the garbage, Crumbling like pencil shavings? If I left you your portrait on a Post-it, Would you tape it to your locker, Secure its place As a badge of honor And protect it from the rush Of selfish bodies Smushing through? If I left you my poem on a Post-it, Would you put it in your pocket, Put your jeans in the wash Without checking them, Leave it drowned and soaked alongside Your receipt from lunch?

If I wrote our inside jokes on a Post-it, Would you hide it safely in your notebook Among necklaces of words you would Never read again, My words peeking out like water in oil? or Would you let your mom find it stuck To the bottom of your shoe As you walk out The door?

Light in the Darkness Kymani WRITTEN DURING AN IN-SCHOOLS RESIDENCY AT P A S S A G E S A C A D E M Y, B E L M O N T

Hi,

my name is Kymani. Today I will be telling you the story that changed my life. One day I missed a court date. There was a warrant issued for my arrest, and when I

found out, I knew that I would probably have to do time. So from that point forward, I decided to share all my time with the one person I loved so much.

She was like my only light in all my darkness. This girl, till

this day, is still like no other. She cared for me so much; I felt that if I left her, she would leave me, and that’s one thing I couldn’t see happening.

So I had told this girl my situation and told her that I might

go away for some time and she told me that it was okay, that everyone goes through situations and that she would be there for me when I got back.

So I ended up seeing her one last time, in a Dunkin’ Do-

nuts around the corner from my house. Before her bus came, she gave me one kiss that––I don’t know––that made me feel like I couldn’t go away, ‘cause I would miss her so much. So I decided that I wouldn’t ever turn myself in.

I was on the run for two weeks without going home, and

having some tough times trying to get some sleep just ‘cause I wanted to see her one more time.

Eventually, I called her and told her to meet me somewhere.

Thirty minutes before I could meet her, I did something very dumb, which got me arrested and led to me not being able to see her again. It changed my life, because I feel like my job isnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t complete.

Dreams & Nightmares Anonymous WRITTEN DURING AN IN-SCHOOLS RESIDENCY AT P A S S A G E S A C A D E M Y, B E L M O N T

It was a Sunday morning in Houston. The little boy was crying under the tree as the rain fell down his face. The sun started to shine as the older man approached him. He asked, “What happened?” He found out that the young boy had a bad relationship with his mom. The old man was so sophisticated. He looked at his arm and knew he got his *** whooped before. Boy started shrugging his shoulders. Old man said, “Don’t be in denial, I’m here to help you.” The boy said, “Nobody is here to help me. Every day in my life, I’ve been looked at skeptically.” Old man said, “Let’s take a walk.” Boy said, “Really? Okay,” with a hesitant voice. Old man asked him, “Do you believe in dreams?” Boy said, “Yes.” Old man said, “Do you have a dream?”

Boy said, “Yes I want to become a therapist.” “Okay,” said the old man with a happy voice. “All these emotions are just a nightmare. You just got to believe in your dreams and eventually they will come true and great things will happen.” Boy later became a spokesman and a therapist to support others.

Electric Cars Pros Arielle Jean-Baptiste • 5th grade W R I T T E N D U R I N G A N I N - S C H O O L S R E S I D E N C Y AT P S 3 1 6

n my opinion, having an electric car is better than having a car that runs on gas. I feel that electric cars are better than gas-using cars because electric motors act quickly and they

offer advantages.

Electric motors act quickly because they produce zero emis-

sions. Fuel ends up running out in gas-using cars, which makes you stop for gas and spend your money often. With electric car motors, your car goes faster and its charge lasts longer. With cars that last long, you can get or go somewhere faster than you would in a gas-using car. This is because of the motor. So, better earth, faster cars, more money saved, less gas used.

Another reason why electric cars are better—leaving your

car to charge overnight can make your car have enough charge to last you over five to twenty-four hours! It charges just like how you charge your phone or tablet, etc. To add on, EV’s help climate change. And lastly, they can reduce emissions and save you lots of money.

As you can see, buying an electric car can change your—and

someone else’s—life, along with lots of other people.

My Love That’s Burning Jahani Barrett • Age 16 WRITTEN IN QUARANTEEN VOICES

I wake up to the tense heat burning me, the sweat dripping down my body. I get up to see myself in a burning mansion on fire. I sit watching the place burn, limb to limb, ash to ash. I sit patiently on a staircase watching everything fall down with me in it. From the outside all you see is smoke and light, which the fire brings, but inside, fire flames become bigger, sparks from it fly around the air flames become bigger second by second. I get up and walk around to see everything, or what’s left of it. I walk and walk, remembering all memories of me and my love. Pictures into ashes, clothes burnt, I cry walking leaving every memory behind. I cry thinking if things could be different. I cry blaming myself. I walk out of that mansion, firefighters run in pushing, trying to see if anyone’s in there, and trying to stop the fire. I look back telling myself it’s for the best when, really, I only said this so I wouldn’t be hurt. People run to see what happened. They see me, my clothes burned, my mascara messy, holding the key

and me and my love’s pictures. I black the world out longing for him, everything was live, he should have seen. I guess he didn’t care, he didn’t love me the way I love him. Time to start a new life without my love.

Best Day Ever Schedule A Class Collaboration W R I T T E N D U R I N G L I STO P I A ! , A V I RT UA L W R I T I N G WO R K S H O P

*REQ

TELEPO UIRED

RTER

3 AM:

Eat pancakes with chocolate chips

4 AM:

Play our favorite video games

5 AM:

Get a puppy (Rat Terrier)

6 AM:

Go to the park and play with the new puppy

7 AM:

Go to the pool and swim with friends

8 AM:

Draw and make up our own characters

9 AM:

Watch our favorite movies and TV shows

10 AM:

Ice cream break! Create a sundae bar with our favorite flavors (mint chocolate chip)

11 AM: 12 - 1 PM:

Talk with our friends while eating the ice cream Go to the moon and take our puppy. Build a neighborhood for all our friends

2 PM:

Lunchtime at the new moon diner. Have burgers, fries, milkshakes, and salad (to keep it healthy)

3 - 4 PM:

Coney Island comes to the moon. We get to ride all the rides, and then, because it is the best day ever, we win all the biggest prizes

5 PM: 6 - 10 PM:

Power nap and cuddle with our puppy Rapid travel time! Go to: Hang out on the beaches of Bora Bora See our friends from Germany (play video games with them) Go to the top of the Eiffel Tower in France See animals in Australia Have dinner in Italy (make your own pizza)

11 PM - 12 AM:

End the day back on the moon with fireworks and a parade with all our friends, family, and travel buddies

Hope is a Lion Brady Epton â&#x20AC;˘ Age 9 W R I T T E N D U R I N G K I D TA L K S , A V I R T U A L W R I T I N G W O R K S H O P

Hope is a lion Hope moves like fire It sounds like a breath It wears what we want Hope is the king of Your brain It holds your brain up! It teaches you to be Happy It smells like wind Hope is you It lives in you

Unfair Christopher Lopez • Age 10 WRITTEN DURING THE SPOKEN WORD WEEKEND WORKSHOP

Why are some people so unfair? Is it that they just don’t care? They make us feel bad cause we’re different and ugly inside and they make us want to hide from the world but we should let our feelings unfold because at the end of the day, we are all the same but we ‘still’ treat different people like a game just because they are not ashamed of what they are and that’s unfair.

Three Poems Jazmine Lopez • Age 12 WRITTEN DURING THE SPOKEN WORD WEEKEND WORKSHOP

We can learn something new from them, right? It brings us together, like a family. Diversity. Something not anyone has. It’s a safe place. S A F E, silence, acceptance, fearless, empowerment

everyone deserves

that And I could say I agree

Violence. Why is that even a thing? When some people talk of it, it makes Them silent But for what, fixing some stupid beef / or to steal people’s money and Joy Just stop it, cause it ain’t gonna get you anywhere other than jail.

Home Television Sitting, watching, locked the doors Sad, scared, and nervous

No More Racism Justin Campbell â&#x20AC;˘ Age 14 WRITTEN DURING THE SPOKEN WORD WEEKEND WORKSHOP

No more racism. There is still a lot of racism after slavery was abolished. Not just towards Black people. A lot of people! EVERYONE! Take a moment and think about how many opportunities we could have if there was no more racism. There could be more businesses and less people in jail. Maybe even less killings and less homeless people. But we wonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t know because racism will always B E I N T H E W O R L D. There could have been racism before slavery started. Some people are even racist to people of their own skin color or ethnic group.

Secti

on 2

Sto r i es & Ad about Id vo c a entit cy y

El Resentimiento Kimberly Rios Bravo • 11th Grade WRITTEN DURING AN IN-SCHOOLS RESIDENCY AT H I G H S C H O O L O F F A S H I O N I N D U S T R I E S

henever my aunts come over, they work with me and my sister on our Spanish. My mother tells my sister that her best friend called.

As soon as my sister replies, “La voy a llamar pa’ tras,” Tia Maria puckers her lips. She lectures that in Spanish you can’t say ‘I am going to call you back.’ Eso es del inglés. She declares the accurate verb is devolver. “Voy a devolver la llamada.” If my Tio Santiago is there, he’ll come to her defense. “Leave the girl alone.” But as soon as we think the war is over, he’ll go on to say, “stop bothering the girls, they are Americanas,” and won’t leave without patting the top of our heads hard, as if we were mentally disabled.

My mom and dad are different from the rest of their family.

They believe in neutral zones. We stick a Spanish el or la before the English noun, pronouncing phrases like “Ya firmo el permission slip?” and “La teacher nos informed about college hoy.”

After a while, I begin resenting Spanish.

I realize that I can’t read my mom my essay about her immi-

gration story simply because it won’t sound as interesting or lyrical in Spanish as it does in English. Sharing something in English means that I have to either translate or give a short definition for each word that does not already have a place in our lives. I try most times, but I end up angry and mutter “Olvidate.” Forget it,

nevermind. I want Spanish to stop making me feel so alone. I just want her to go away.

That’s when blame arrives.

I blame her for the long hours that Dad has to work in the

factory. I blame her for the reasons my mom has to spend more time with that dumb gringa instead of me.

“If only I knew English,” Dad would always start.

It’s my job to find that out. To be one of the first in the

family to leave Spanish hurts. That’s why I have to hate it; so my departure from it becomes bearable. I do my best to not learn any more of it. Learn only certain words and topics in Spanish to talk about at the dinner table like immigration laws and school grades.

But as I immerse myself even more in the world of English,

I find myself distancing from my family and committing what a hispanic family would call gestos groseros, rude gestures. I don’t make eye contact when someone speaks to me. I’ll walk around the house with headphones in my ears, and watch TV sitcoms as I eat at the dinner table. And as I try my best to act as if I have no history or culture, my father still worries that I might turn out like him.

“Tienes que hecharle ganas.” You have to work hard, he

would say every night before bed. “No quieres terminar como yo en esas factorías. Eso mata a uno. You don’t want this life.” But I do—I want that life. Of course not the racist remarks and the long work hours, just the conchas and the chocolate caliente. I want the Cumbias. I want the dramatic soap operas and the scary Llorona stories. I want Spanish. I want it all.

But loving what I already have, is a betrayal to my family’s

wishes. And not being like my family, is a betrayal to them as well.

Kimberly Rios Bravo is a chicana writer and artist whose pieces often reflect on the struggles that many children of hispanic immigrants face in their everyday lives. As a child of Mexican-Immigrant parents, she hopes to let others with similar stories know that they do not stand alone. She was inspired to write after having read the works of authors like Sandra Cisneros and Daisy Hernandez.

You’re Not Alone Lorraine Andrickson • 11th Grade WRITTEN DURING AN IN-SCHOOLS RESIDENCY AT H I G H S C H O O L O F F A S H I O N I N D U S T R I E S

cting, an adjective: temporarily doing the duties of another person. The media is always fixated on Timothee Chalamet’s new love interest, or what new role Scarlett

Johansson is going to steal from more deserving actors. It’s rarely ever about the craft anymore. Movies depicting the same worn out plots continue to fill minds without ever really highlighting current events and issues in society. Acting as anyone in the world makes me hate myself a little less, gladly escaping my reality for a couple hours a day. In those hours, I can feel what it’s like to be someone else. I can be admired in my body, yet praised as someone outside of myself.

Being a Bisexual Latina in a Dominican traditional

household is extremely difficult. Not receiving any support from my “parental figures” adds to the self-deprecation and hate. The day I came out is the day I will never forget, as it’s forever etched in my brain as the day I officially became independent. I was forced out of the closet, unprepared and mortified; I was numb. There were so many emotions coursing through my veins, yet absolutely nothing came out of my mouth. My grandmother, the only mother I’ve ever really had, the one person I never wanted to disappoint or lose, ended up being the big person I lost. At the time, I was in a loving (or so I thought) relationship with someone who I believed cared for me exactly how I cared about

them. I offered myself up to this person and gave them every piece of fight I had in me. Similar to how Leonardo DiCaprio had never won an Oscar, I had never truly felt valued and cared for. This past relationship provided me the strength I needed to get through the harsh realities of my home life, yet it began eating me alive every chance it got. I had gotten home with my partner after a long day of school and decided to watch a movie with them, but things turned sour too quickly. Acting as a couple does, we were very close to each other. Simple intimacy was something somewhat foreign to us, seeing as we had to keep everything between us under wraps. Evidently, neither of us had heard my grandma’s footsteps as she walked. Silence, only breathing could be heard. Getting up slowly, my partner and I felt so shameful over what had previously happened. I walked my partner to the train station, trying to brace myself for impact with every single step I took.

When I arrived back home, I was treated to nothing but

a dirty look and an even dirtier tone of voice (a tone that still haunts me to this day). This voice rang throughout my body like the gong in Mulan when Mushu was waking up all of the Fa ancestors. I couldn’t properly articulate words. I began explaining to my grandma my sexuality and how I felt about my partner, only to be met with stubborness and deceit. I had been sold the promise that my “parental figure” would always be there to pick me up whenever I fell down, but she let me fall. My room was empty that night, I physically couldn’t stay in that toxic household. I was drowning in my own emotions so I decided, “Why not become a completely different person?”

Acting has influenced my life in many different ways, but

not like how it did when I came out. I became a whole different human being. This new entity never let her emotions get to her, nor did she let others see her downfall. The new girl had the fakest smile, the most glossy eyes, and the seemingly perfect coping mechanisms that anyone had ever seen. I put on a mask and hid behind it for so long. That mask became my only relief, seeing as my relationship had gone south. I ended up being all alone, seeking to pick up all of the shattered pieces left behind by all of them. When acting like someone new, I get to hide behind empty facades and false identities in order to find some sort of relief from the cold reality of coming out to a strict grandmother. I’ve had to act like not having a mom doesn’t hurt, seeing as mental illness plays a huge role in her absence. Or how not having contact with any of my father’s side of the family doesn’t sting a little, while everyone else seems to have both parents. My estranged mother has been an absent figure in my life, not to mention my father has recently started making his way back into my life. I’ve lost my siblings over the years, constantly being faced with watching them leave one at a time. My youngest sister is in the foster care system, making it impossible to see her. I’ve been pulled in so many different directions throughout my years on this Earth. Every single pull is nothing I haven’t felt before. The escalation of pain is the only thing increasing. I guess you could say, I lost everything in order to gain more.

Overall, I’ve lost a lot. Similar to how Jordan Belfort lost

everything in the movie The Wolf of Wall Street, everything I ever held dear to me left my grasp at the slight of a hand. My life is full of tragedies, yet I chose to continue hiding behind a mask. The same mask I wore when my biological mother left my life, when

my grandmother shunned me out, when my older siblings practically abandoned me, and when my own inner demons decided to dance around in glee whenever I felt like exiting this world. The new character that infiltrates my body has all the chances to feel such a range of emotions, something that I myself have limited myself to feeling. Perhaps if I stopped allowing myself to fall into these pits of despair and weakness, Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ll truly be able to remove this mask.

Lorraine Andrickson is a Latina-American writer from Manhattan, New York. She enjoys sharing her experiences and giving advice in hopes of helping and supporting others. In her spare time, she enjoys theatre arts, discussing social justice, and analyzing films.

5 Senses Kenneth Chapman Jr • 12th Grade WRITTEN DURING AN IN-SCHOOLS RESIDENCY AT H I G H S C H O O L F O R G LO B A L C I T I Z E N S H I P

Open your eyes. I can’t see like you, not because I’m blind,

but because I can’t see why I live in a world where you come from a completely different past than mine.

Smell the air. You smell all the smoke and bullet shells aimed

at my brothers and sisters because they defended me, yet they’re struggling to hold onto life with their last strand of hair.

Listen to the world. Hear the riots and the gunfire, as

we scream and fight for our freedom every day that we live, constantly pushing forward. However, we get shot down by the police as if we were a part of their training drills.

Feel the ground beneath your feet. That same land you walk

on is the same land on which my ancestors were stripped of their humanity, and to this day, they leave us to rot in the street, until they feel it’s time to lock us away and put us out of our misery.

Taste that victory. We’ve tasted victory, and we won’t stop

fighting until we finally prevail. From generation to generation, we won’t stand for this. Kill us off if you must, but one day we will win the war. We’ll only come back three times harder than we did before, only pushing towards our true freedom. When that day comes, we can finally use all five of our senses and realize that we are truly free.

I’m Scared Janiah Hines • 12th Grade WRITTEN DURING AN IN-SCHOOLS RESIDENCY AT H I G H S C H O O L F O R G LO B A L C I T I Z E N S H I P

I’m scared as I’m going to sleep peacefully an officer walks in with a gun and kills me. And gets away with it. I’m scared to walk into a store, not buy anything and be suspected of stealing something. I’m scared to be pulled over and have a gun pulled out on me for speeding a tiny bit over the speed limit. I’m scared to walk into my school. I’m scared a white kid is going to pull out a gun. I’m scared of white kids shooting up schools. I’m scared of going to a concert and a white man pulling out a gun up in a hotel room and starting to shoot all across the board, killing multiple people in seconds. I’m scared of the color of my skin. I’m scared I’ll be in the ground. I’m scared of being a proud Black woman because we ain’t seen as successful, only as the “ugly” baby mamas no one wants.

I’m scared that my future child plays alone with a play gun and gets shot. I’m scared my brothers can’t walk to the grocery store without being shot. I’m scared my brothers will be profiled. I’m scared my brothers will be accused of a murder they didn’t commit. I’m scared to fight for my country, only for my country to be against me. I’m scared to breathe the soil of America. I’m scared to get the wheels in motion of change. I’m scared to march so I sign. I’m scared I won’t come home and get stuck on the Manhattan Bridge. I’m scared that Black people are seen as thugs. I’m scared that Black people are seen as animals. I’m scared of the riots and how they’re seen as wrong. I’m scared America won’t see the truth. I’m scared they won’t see police brutality. I’m scared for any mother’s child who doesn’t come home. I’m scared for any mother’s child who is taken away from them for good. I’m scared of American oxygen. I’m scared of the police who have wronged their department and themselves. I’m scared of the police who don’t speak up.

But I’m proud. I’m proud to be a Black woman. I’m proud to support the BLACK LIVES MATTER MOVEMENT. I’m proud to be alive to fight. I’m proud to be educated. I’m proud to have a Black mother. I’m proud to have a Black educated mother who tells me when I need to do the right thing. I’m proud to have melanin. I’m proud to have type 4 hair. I’m proud to have lived through this day and age, so I can join the movement. I’M PROUD TO BE BLACK.

The Rainbow Pin Fiona Overcamp • 6th Grade W R I T T E N D U R I N G A N I N - S C H O O L S R E S I D E N C Y AT M S 8 8

“W

akey, wakey,” Mom says. I groan. My summer break is officially over and it’s time for another year, a very painful year of school. It is to be

my first of four years at Ridgewood High.

“Coming,” I mumble. I rub my eyes, making the world go

fuzzy. I sit up and put on my contacts. They sting my eyes. I barely wore them during the summer. My feet touch the hardwood floor and I slowly walk down stairs, the wood creaking under my feet. I creep past my brother, still too young to attend school, waiting to go to daycare. I walk to the kitchen and find my place at the table and sit on the antique chair. I slowly stir my cold oatmeal, wishing I was still in elementary school. I look up and see the clock. I groan, I wish it was earlier. I mean, I wish for a lot of things, like world peace and such, but I know such goals are unrealistic.

I stand up and push in my chair without eating anything.

I climb up the stairs to the landing, covered with carpet,

once beautiful and full of patterns, now dirty and faded to mom’s dismay.

I go to my room and change into a bright rainbow sweater

and a pair of mom jeans, now ready for the day. I put on a pair of old sneakers for the fun of it and then I look over and see it: that rainbow pin from Pride last summer. It was the first time I really felt like myself. When I came out as a lesbian in eighth grade I felt

like an outcast but that’s when I truly felt free to be me, with no one to judge.

I hope high school will be different and accepting.

I run down stairs. I really don’t want to be any more late

than I already am.

When I get downstairs, the school bus was pulling in so I run

out to the yard without saying goodbye.

When I get in, I sit next to a girl who was in my class last year

and we talk about what we did in the summer which was fun, but also really boring and after a while we just stop talking.

“Good morning class of 2023!” she shouts, almost screaming.

When the bus stops we all file in a sort of line off and disperse.

I see a line of students forming to get into school so I decide to join in. Turns out the line is to get schedules so I’m glad I joined the line and get my schedule. My homeroom is room 121 so I turn right and walk and find room 121. Room 121 is a tiny worn down room with simple desks and a smart board, so nothing I haven’t seen before. That’s good.

As I try to find a desk, I hear a voice say, “Gross, do you sup-

port the gay agenda?” I instantly turn around, trying to see where the homophobia was coming from.

I see a scrawny boy with abnormally long arms and

a MAGA hat.

Not again. It was Luke Bennett, the area homophobe’s son,

who was a pure nightmare in middle school. I had prayed he wasn’t in any of my classes, but what can you do.

“I just want to say Jesus hates you and people like you will

burn in hell under God’s wrath,” he says, with an eerie smile on his face.

“Good morning to you too, Luke,” I say as I turn to find

a seat.

After what feels like forever, the classroom door creaks

open and a stout woman with grey hair creeps in, “Hello class, my name is Mrs. Gjoed and I am your homeroom teacher. Now today we are going to an assembly, but under normal circumstances you would be with me for twelve minutes before going to class,” she adds.

We shuffle along to the auditorium along with other fresh-

man homerooms.

The assembly is the normal first day stuff, but the real

show stopper is when the principal starts talking about bullying and how they have a no homophobia policy at the school. Luke stands up and shouts from the back of the auditorium, “YOU CAN’T BLAME ME FOR HATING THE GAYS AND ********, IT’S JUST WRONG!”

Needless to say, Luke Bennet was never seen again at

Ridgewood High again.

Don’t Call Me Ash Lila Sinovoi • 6th Grade W R I T T E N D U R I N G A N I N - S C H O O L S R E S I D E N C Y AT M S 8 8

PROLOGUE

ear Diary, I thought starting high school would be great. New people, new place, new opportunity. But so far, it’s been

pretty awful. I don’t even have my best friend Sam to be with me, since we got into different schools.

Today I sat down in ELA and saw this new girl, her name is

Ella. I think there is a small little bit of me that likes her. Speaking of that, I keep thinking about how I want to talk to someone about me being gay, but I can’t bring myself to tell anyone. I don’t want anyone to make fun of me. Also, Mom has seemed off lately. She is not acting as fun as she usually is. She has also seemed lonely. I know that Dad left when I was two and Mom has always been fine with just me, but now she seems. . .

Oh great, Mom is here now.

“Come on Ash, it’s time for school. You don’t want to be late,”

she says as she peeks her head in my room, then starts stepping into it.

Ugh school, the old terrible place. I hate school for more

reasons than just the work.

“Don’t call me Ash!” I call as she walks out of my old small

room with light blue walls, a short small bed crammed in one corner. My white dresser is in the other corner and random

stickers and posters are everywhere. I’m just noticing how I am gonna have to re-do everything. Mom tries not to make the floor creak as she leaves.

CHAPT ER 1 School is the place where I feel most alone and shy. No friends with me and I am ignored. It’s like I’m invisible. Also, worst of all, I have double period math now. I hate math, all the numbers and work is terrible. And to top it all off my teacher, Ms. Jones, is the worst teacher anyone could possibly have.

I sit there, staring into space, and started to think about Ella.

I think about how her dirty blond, wavy hair blows in the wind. I think about how her bright blue eyes shine in the sunlight. How every outfit she wears matches her. I don’t even really know her, but I can just tell.

She is not in my math class, so it’s not like I have something

to take my mind off of Ms. Jones.

It seems like hours have gone by and I’m still sitting listen-

ing to Ms. Jones go on about something I don’t care about at all. BRING!

Finally, I leave this old dirty, dusty classroom with uncom-

fortable chairs and annoying people.

“Don’t forget the homework,” Ms. Jones calls as we leave the

classroom.

CHAPT ER 2 I’m sitting at lunch just watching a typical high school lunch go

by with typical high school people, students, and teachers. The teachers are barely paying attention to us. There are about four teachers watching about one thousand kids. All of the kids are talking and some are breaking the rules. It looks like a mad house here. Well I guess that’s what you can expect from a high school cafeteria. I miss middle school.

Out of nowhere, I see Ella walking towards me. Oh my gosh,

what am I gonna say? What is she gonna say? As she gets close I realize that she is not walking towards me. When she walks by she doesn’t even acknowledge that I’m right by her literally staring at her.

Oh yeah, I should probably stop doing that and look away.

I look back to see where Ella is going and I see them. The

popular group, Sabina the leader and Kristine and Zoe, her two little minions.

Great. This is just great. Ella is gonna turn into one of them

and will never be my friend. They wave her over and start chatting away.

“Hey, Ashlan right?” Sabina sarcastically says as her little

minions giggle away. “Why are you looking over here like that?”

My cheeks turn red and all I can get to say is, “sorry.” I say it

so quietly and in a high pitched voice. I turn away and get up to spend the rest of my lunch in the library.

CHAPTER 3 “It’s okay,” Sam says as she tries to cheer me up. “They’re just insecure so they have to make someone else feel bad for themselves to feel good.”

Every Saturday my mom and I have brunch with Sam and

her parents. Then we usually go over to their house and hang out for a few hours.

“But why does it have to be me?” I whine.

“You’re just probably the easiest target to hit,” she laughs.

“Not funny,” I tease. “So what about you? How has your

school been?”

“Okay I guess,” she says as she puts her head down. I never

really see her sad. She is always energetic and happy. “I made a few new friends.”

“That’s cool,” I say. “But seriously what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.” There is no way that’s true.

“Sam, I almost never see you sad like this. Seriously,

tell me.”

“Okay. I feel really left out, like everyone already knows each

other and has their friend groups. Sometimes I wonder if my friends are really my friends. Also, I’m the only one who doesn’t have a boyfriend,” she says. I think she’s glad to tell someone all this.

“Wow, okay. Sam, you are the best person I know. I don’t

know anyone who would not want to be your friend. And who cares if you don’t have a boyfriend? You’re better without someone to take over your life and ruin your heart. Boys are jerks.” I never thought I could be that confident in myself.

CHAPT ER 4 We leave Sam’s room and find our parents talking about us and our schools. I hear mom talking about how I have not been acting

like myself since high school started. I don’t get what she means by that. They notice us and stop.

“What’s up kiddo?” Sam’s dad says, “and kiddo’s best friend?”

He always lightens the mood no matter what’s happening. I sometimes think of him as the dad I never had.

“What have you girls been up to?” Sam’s mom asks.

“Nothing much,” Sam responds.

Our moms look at each other. They became best friends a

few months after we became best friends, and Sam and I have been best friends since kindergarten.

“Well I think we should get going, Ashlan. We have some er-

rands to run,” my mom says, breaking the silence. Sam and I know not to beg to hang out longer. We did that all the time when we were little though. But we’re not little anymore. We grew up.

“Okay,” I say as I’m going to give Sam a hug goodbye. “Don’t

worry, everything will be fine,” I whisper in Sam’s ear.

“Same with you,” she whispers back. *****

Our shopping takes forever. It seems like we were re-buying everything in our apartment. It is long and different. We don’t talk the whole time like we usually do when we shop. It is mostly just shopping.

Dear Diary,

Everything has been different lately. Sam’s not super fun

and energetic all the time anymore. Mom and I seem like we are

drifting apart. It’s all different in a bad way. Why can’t things stay the same and be good? I miss how my life was before. I’ve always hated change and this is one of the worst changes I’ve been through.

– Ashlan

CHAPT ER 5 I hate going back to lunch everyday. I am all alone and there are almost no teachers here. This is the spot where the popular group can get to me the easiest.

I look up from writing in my diary and see Ella looking at me.

Her face is really nervous and kind of like she is actually scared of something. But what though? Wait, she’s watching Sabina walk towards me. What is happening?! I turn and start writing again, pretending like I don’t see. The same face that was on Ella is now on me. Sabina gets closer and closer and I don’t know what to do.

“Hi Ashlan,” she says to me.

“Hi,” I whisper.

“What was that? Oh right, you can’t make a louder noise

than a mouse squeaking,” she laughs.

My cheeks turn pink and now I feel like everyone is star-

ing at us and whispering. I hear someone say, “Poor her.” I don’t hear my real name being said at all though. Does anyone seriously know my name?

What is going on right now?

All of a sudden I feel something tug at my diary. I turn as

Sabina rips it out of my hand.

“Give me that!” I yell.

“Oh you got louder than a mouse. Congrats,” she says sar-

castically, as she opens my diary.

“Don’t read that!” I feel myself getting louder.

“Too late,” she starts flipping through the pages.

I’m going to cry. I try to hold back the tears as hard as I can.

“Wow, you have a best friend? Poor her.”

“Hey!” I yell. “Don’t say that!”

She continues, “I really want to talk to someone about me

being,” she gasps, “gay! OMG wow. Ashlan, you’re gay? Do you have a crush on anyone? Who would think our little quiet lonely girl would have a secret like this. And no one knows!? Wow. Well, we know now.” She laughs and turns to everyone else in the cafeteria and some of them are also laughing. “Look at our little lesbian guys!”

I’m on the edge of crying. I can’t take it anymore. All I can

quietly say is, “Please stop reading.”

“Oh wow, thanks for letting me keep going. I was not ex-

pecting you to let me do this.” The giggles get louder. “Let’s see if we can find a crush in here. Oh got it!”

“No,” I whisper.

“Again, too late. Here it says ‘I think there is a small bit of me

that likes her.’ Now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment you’ve all been waiting for is, this girl is . . . Ella!” I hear more laughs.

I look up to see Ella freeze. She’s just staring at me. Her blue

eyes are big and watery. Everything about her is still perfect, but now I’m scared to feel that way. That’s it, tears stream down my face and I grab the diary. I run into the nurse’s office and have them call my mom to pick me up.

CHAPT ER 6 Mom has been bugging me to tell her what happened for the past three days. I think I’m finally going to tell her that I’m gay. I’m pretty sure I’m ready.

“Mom, I have something to tell you,” I say.

“Okay, let’s talk,” she sits down and pats the seat next to her.

“I’m gay,” I say as I turn my head.

“Wow. I wasn’t expecting that. How long have you known?”

she said, seeming surprised.

“Since the sixth grade,” I say, turning my head back towards

her.

“Just so you know, I’m not mad or upset or ashamed. I’m

proud of you because, um, you were strong enough to keep this secret for long enough, and were strong enough to feel this way,” she tells me.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” I say.

“Oh honey, it’s okay. I don’t mind.”

“Okay,” I take a deep breath. “I’m gonna tell you everything

that happened.”

“Go ahead,” she says.

I spend a little while telling her everything that happened,

about Ella and Sabina, my diary, and school in general. I saw her face look kind of scared, but she also looks like she might go to the principal and complain. That would make it even worse.

“Thanks for telling me,” she says.

“No problem,” I say.

CHAPT ER 7 When I walk into school, everyone is whispering and pointing. All of it just makes me hang my head even more. All I can think about is what will happen when I see Ella. I have two classes with her today and I’m kind of nervous. Actually, I’m really nervous. I don’t know what I’m going to do.

“Oh my gosh, look who it is,” I see Sabina walking towards

me with her minions.

Oh gosh why does this have to be happening to me? I put on

my hood and try to walk away.

“Where are you going?” she asks, and then turns to Kristine

and Zoe. “I bet she’s going to find Ella,” she whispers too loudly. That was probably on purpose but if it wasn’t she really has to work on her whispering skills.

“Don’t say that,” I say.

“Oh, why not? Are you scared it’s true?” she says.

“No, it’s not,” I still can’t stop whispering and really talk.

“Whatever,” she says and starts walking away.

“Yeah whatever,” Kristine says, trying to be cool. She follows

Sabina away.

A few periods later, I pass Ella in the hallway and am sure

she saw me. I saw her look my way and then turn and walk the opposite way. I mean, I can understand why she is embarrassed, but shouldn’t I be more embarrassed than her? *****

I think it’s finally time to tell Sam so I ask her if I can come over and she says yes. At her house we spend a long time just hanging out and having fun like old times. But I keep trying to find the right time to tell her. I finally just blurt out, “I have to tell you something.”

“What?” she asks.

“First, something awful happened to me a few days ago. I

was minding my own business at lunch and this jerk named Sabina comes up to me and steals my diary, then she reads it out loud in front of the whole cafeteria.”

“What?! How could you let someone do that to you? I’m so

sorry Ashlan, I feel terrible,” she says. She sounds like she really cares.

“Thanks,” I say. “But, um, in that diary it said something

that I want to talk to you about.”

“Go ahead,” she says. I can tell she really wants to know.

“Um, so, um . . .” she cuts me off.

“Um, so, um, what is it? Hurry up. And sorry if I’m sounding

rude.” Now I know she really wants to know.

“I’m gay,” I say.

“What? How come you never told me this?” Now she sounds

like she’s starting to get mad. Why though?

“Why are you getting mad?” I ask.

“I’m not so mad, but really Ashlan? You should have told

me. We have been best friends since kindergarten and promised to tell each other everything. That right there is a secret you kept from me. Ashlan, you know literally everything about me.” She pauses. “Because that’s what best friends do,” she quietly yells.

“Well you didn’t tell me that you felt left out until I forced

you to. Is that what best friends do?” I say starting to get mad at her. There was no reason for her to yell at me like that.

I got up and said, “You know Sam, I came here to my best

friend for support. You have no idea how hard this has been for me. You have no idea how going through something like that feels. It’s not up to you to decide when and how I tell people. You have no right to get mad at me like that. I guess support is not what I got.” I leave her house really frustrated and mad at her. I mean, what best friend does that?

CHAPT ER 8 Almost an hour after I got home, I got a text from Sam. Oh great. It says, “Hi Ashlan, I’m sorry I got mad before. I was just surprised you didn’t tell me sooner, and I know it’s not up to me. But when that happens to you, you have to stand up for yourself. I was also mad that you didn’t do that. Don’t let anyone treat you like that.”

I thought about what Sam said and she was right. I ask my-

self why I let them do that to me, but I know it is because I am scared and shy.

The next day in school I am leaving the terrible place of Ms.

Jones’s class to go to the other terrible place, lunch. I still hear whispers of what happened as I walk past people in the hall.

I sit down at my usual table, all alone, and start to eat. Out of

the corner of my eye, I see Sabina walking towards me. And here we go again.

She gets to my table and I think about Sam’s text. Then I say,

“What now Sabina?”

“Aww, the little lonely quiet girl is standing up for herself,

how brave,” she laughs.

I feel more confident in myself so I say, “You know what

Sabina, I have had enough of you trying to ruin my life.” I look around and see people looking over at us, including Ella. Good, now everyone can see how the little quiet girl stood up to the most popular girl in school. “So whatever you have to say to me, just say it. I don’t care about what you and your minions think about me, my diary, or anyone else in this school anymore.” I use Sam’s words. “You are just insecure so you have to make someone else feel bad about themselves so you can feel good about yourself.” I think I need to wrap it up now so I take a deep breath and say, “Okay, now can you get whatever it is over with so I can eat my lunch peacefully?” I say all this, feeling really proud of myself.

Sabina just stands there looking stunned. I bet she never

thought anyone would say those things to her, especially me. She finally says, “Okay gosh, you don’t have to be so dramatic,” then she slowly turns and walks away.

As I’m leaving my last class I see Ella walking in the hallway.

As we pass each other she smiles at me and I know everything is going to be okay from now on.

TH E END

Posters Camille Vitse W R I T T E N D U R I N G A N I N - S C H O O L S R E S I D E N C Y AT M S 8 8

“W

ake up Alex, you don’t want to be late for your first day!” To be honest, I couldn’t really comprehend whether my mom or my dad yelled that. I was too tired. I had stayed

up almost all night. I got up and rubbed my eyes, which made the whole room foggy. I walked to my closet and picked up the outfit I had carefully chosen the night before. I pulled the curtains back from the large windows so that the sun could brighten the room. I took a second to enjoy the beautiful September morning.

“Alex, stop daydreaming and come get breakfast!”

That time, I knew it was my mom.

“I’m coming!”

I quickly slipped on the outfit and ran into the kitchen. Nat-

urally, Jenna, my best friend, was already waiting for me. Even though she didn’t live here, she always managed to be here before I was awake.

“You look really tired,” she commented.

“I know, I stayed up almost all night trying to find an outfit

that still fits me,” I replied.

“We should get to school. We’re already late.”

I nodded and grabbed my bag as I walked out the door.

The first day of school went by super fast. I hugged Jenna

goodbye and walked to the subway station. As I walked onto the platform, I noticed a girl that was in my math class. She was with

some boys that I also recognized from our school. As I watched, I noticed they started to crowd around her and get up in her face. She was trying to push them away and was obviously very uncomfortable.

“Leave her alone!” I only slightly yelled, not wanting to make

a scene and embarrass her even more. The boys all looked up and stared at me for a second.

Finally one of them said, “Let’s just go, she’s not worth it.”

They all nodded and walked away. I let go a deep sigh of

relief.

“Are you okay?” I ask the girl who I knew as Elizabeth.

“I’m fine. You shouldn’t have done that, it was none of your

business. Besides, I was handling it,” Elizabeth said as her cheeks got redder.

“Okay,” was all I said back.

I started to walk away when she said, “But thank you for

helping me.”

I turned my head and smiled, but I was still really upset that

boys from my school would disrespect her like that. Schools are supposed to teach you to do the opposite.

Over the next few days, I noticed how much of that stuff ac-

tually happens in my school and how it goes unnoticed. That’s what made me the most mad: the fact that people acted like it was normal when something was really wrong. People had to take notice of things like this, and if they weren’t going to do it themselves, I had to do it for them.

I stayed up almost all night again, making hundreds of

pieces of paper with quotes from many different role models and people that spoke about racial and gender rights.

The next morning I searched for Jenna in the courtyard un-

til I finally spotted her. I presented my idea and showed her the posters I had made the night before. To my surprise, she was really excited. She said she had experienced those types of things before as well. We got started the second we got inside. We must have put a poster in every part of our huge school. By the time it was lunch, people started to talk about our posters. Once the seventh period started, almost everyone was talking about the posters... I should have known that not everyone would like them.

At the end of the day the loudspeaker came on:

“Alex Parker and Jenna Twinkle, please come to my office

immediately when your classes end!”

The whole class quickly turned their heads to look at Jenna

and me.

Once we got out of class, we went straight to the principal’s

office, as we were told to, and sat in the two seats in front of his desk.

“Do you girls know why you’re here?” he asked as he folded

his hands.

“No sir,” I lied. There was a moment of silence.

“You’re here because, although those posters send an im-

portant message, I think you took it a bit too far. Multiple fights have been reported to me today, and all of them were over disagreements about your posters.”

Jenna and I looked at each other with surprised faces.

“Therefore, I have no choice but to punish you for your ac-

tions. You will have to take your posters down.”

“But Principal Johnson, that’s exactly my point! These are

quotes about everyone’s rights. They are supposed to be part of what this school teaches. Yet every single day, people are doing the exact opposite!”

“Don’t raise your voice at me young lady, I’ve made up my

mind, you will be puni—”

“You want to punish me for bringing attention to these

things?! I am doing the job that you are too lazy to get off your butt and do!” I knew I shouldn’t have said it, but not one bit of me regretted it.

“THAT IS ENOUGH! You will be suspended for the rest of the

week! That is all. You are dismissed!” We just sat there shocked, looking for words, until we decided it would just be better to leave.

On the train ride home, I searched my mind for what I was

going to tell my mom. She would ground me for life if she knew what I said to the principal. After a while of thinking, I decided it would just be safer to not tell her at all. But I still couldn’t believe the principal would yell like that to his students, or that he could yell like that at all. Despite what Mr. Johnson thought, I wasn’t giving up that easily. That night I stayed up later than I ever have because my new plan was even better.

The next morning came and I had barely gotten any sleep.

Dark circles had formed underneath my barely open eyes, and

yet I wasn’t at all tired. I was about to do something that would bring attention to what needed to change. The second I walked out of my house, I called Jenna.

“Hey Jenna, I need your help with something. Can you meet

me at the school?”

“Alex, did you already forget? We’re suspended, and I’m

grounded.”

“I know, but I have a bigger and better idea than what we did

yesterday.”

“Alex, you’re gonna get yourself expelled. I want to help, but

don’t want to get expelled either.”

“So what if we get expelled? We’re bringing awareness to a

problem that needs to be fixed.”

“Sorry Alex, but you’re on your own for this one.”

“Whatever, if you actually wanted to make a difference you

would help me, but you obviously don’t. And never did.”

“Alex I—”

But I had already hung up. I didn’t want to talk to her or see

her right now - maybe for a while.

Once I had made it to the school, I snuck to the back of the

building where I intended to start hanging up the posters. About two hours had passed, and I was almost finished covering the entire building. I was on the last poster when I saw the principal’s assistant walk past me. She must have been late to work. I quickly tried to hide, but it was too late. She had already noticed me and what I was working on. She ran inside and didn’t look back. I decided that I should just finish what I was doing before leaving. After all, there was only one poster left. I realized that I

needed more tape to put the poster up so I reached in my bag, but I couldn’t find any tape. I looked and looked until I finally found it. Before I knew it, ten minutes had passed, but I was determined to finish the job. I quickly hung up the last poster and turned around to walk away, but it was too late. I watched as two police cars pulled up in front of me, their sirens blaring. Everything was in slow motion. The police officers got out of their cars and ran up to me. Each of them grabbed one of my arms and started to drag me to their cars. I turned my head and saw Jenna running up the block. She was unable to speak.

“PUT ME DOWN!” I screamed.

People began to gather around and videotape. I saw Princi-

pal Johnson on the corner speaking to another police officer and pointing his long finger at me. All I wanted to do was strangle him! I kicked and screamed, trying to break the grip of the officers, but I wasn’t strong enough.

“Arrested?! For vandalizing your own school?! You’re lucky

they only put you in a holding cell!” my mom yelled at me when she picked me up from the police station. I didn’t feel lucky, not at all. I felt betrayed. By Jenna, by the principal, and most of all, by life itself.

For the rest of the week, neither my parents nor I said a word

to each other. I hadn’t spoken to Jenna since our fight, and to be honest, I really missed her. Being my stubborn self, I wouldn’t admit that until she did.

Monday finally came. Trying to avoid awkward silence with

my parents, I left for school before they woke up. As I approached the school yard, I noticed that Jenna was there as well. She must have gotten up early, and without my house, she had nowhere else to go. I turned around and tried to go back home, but she had already noticed me.

“Alex, please wait!” She sounded so desperate that I couldn’t

just walk away. I turned around and looked at her. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy. She must have been crying.

“Aww, Jenna, are you okay?” She was my best friend, I

couldn’t just let her be sad like that. She burst into tears.

“I tried, I really tried to come help you. I should have done

that in the first place!” she said as I embraced her in a soothing hug, trying to calm her down.

“I know. This is stupid. Why are we fighting?”

“I don’t know,” she said. There was a quick silence where we

just looked at each other. We both burst out laughing in a joke no one but us could understand.

“I missed you so much!” she wailed.

“I missed you too!”

We hugged one more time before walking into school, our

hands laced together.

The second I walked through the doors of the school, peo-

ple started to crowd around me. They were all congratulating me and yelling my name in a chant.

“What?!?” I said, finally getting only one of them to speak.

“Principal Johnson was fired!” A girl said.

“What?! Why?” I asked.

“Because of what he did to you and because of all the things

he let happen! They said that he should have made us aware of these things and that all this was his fault.”

I was speechless. I didn’t know what to say. I got our prin-

cipal fired! Jenna hugged me but I could barely hug her back, I wasn’t able to move.

“You did it Alex, you did it!”

The next few days went by in a blur. A bunch of people would

just randomly come up and congratulate me. But getting the principal fired wasn’t what I was so shocked and happy about. I was so happy because for the first time, I was able to make a difference.

A Good Day Cristian WRITTEN DURING AN IN-SCHOOLS RESIDENCY AT P A S S A G E S A C A D E M Y, B E L M O N T

ne weekend I went to my father’s house, as I always do. He told me and my brothers that we were going to the beach. We got so hype, because at first we thought

we were going to Coney Island beach. That’s where we used to go. He told us we weren’t going to Coney Island, but another beach called Manhattan Beach. We got even hyper because we had never been to a beach other than Coney Island. I asked him how we were getting there. He told us we had to take a bus. I don’t totally remember which bus, but I do know it took a long time. Finally, after about an hour, we got to the beach. My aunts, uncles, and cousins were there. I was hyped because I knew the day was about to be lit. The first thing my cousins and I did was go to the water. We all started dunking each other and having a lot of fun. Then my uncle went out to go catch a fish. I watched him cut it up, and he was skilled. My other uncle started to grill and he made burgers, hot dogs, chicken wings, and the fish my other uncle caught. We ate a lot of food and drank a lot of soda, even though my aunt yelled at us and said no more soda. We ended up going home in a fun and happy mood. It was a good day.

All You Need is a Hamburger Gavin Holly-Hill • 5th Grade W R I T T E N D U R I N G A N I N - S C H O O L S R E S I D E N C Y AT P S 3 1 6

o you think hamburgers are better than chicken nuggets? I do. One reason why hamburgers are better than chicken nuggets is because hamburgers can be healthy.

Another reason why hamburgers are better than chicken nuggets is because they have a lot of toppings. My last reason why hamburgers are better than chicken nuggets is because you can get a good hamburger anywhere.

My first reason why hamburgers are better than chicken

nuggets is because it can be healthy. One piece of evidence from the website VerywellFit.com to support my reason says that hamburgers have “266 calories, 10.1 g of fat, 13.3 g of protein.” Another piece of evidence to support my reason is that the website says, “When you cook at home, you can control the portion size.” My last piece of evidence to support my reason says, “Whether you eat, buy, or cook at home, a grilled burger will be better than a burger that is fried. Why? Because when you grill meat, the fat drains away from the meat.” This shows that hamburgers are healthy.

My second reason why hamburgers are better than chicken

nuggets is because they have a lot of toppings. One piece of evidence from the website Wendys.com to support my reason says, “The bacon jalapeño cheeseburger has a quarter pound of fresh, never-frozen beef topped with pickled jalapeños, applewood smoked bacon, American cheese, crispy fried onions, a savory

cheese sauce, and a smoky jalapeño sauce.” My second piece of evidence to support my reason says, “The barbecue cheeseburger has a quarter pound of fresh, never-frozen beef, crispy fried onions, and American cheese, covered in sweet and smoky barbecue sauce all on a toasted bun.” My last piece of evidence to support my second reason says, “The Dave’s Single® from Wendy’s has a quarter pound of fresh, never-frozen beef, American cheese, crisp lettuce, tomato, pickle, ketchup, mayo, and onion on a toasted bun. Just the way Dave invented.” This shows that you can add anything to your hamburger.

My third reason why I think hamburgers are better than

chicken nuggets is because you can get good hamburgers from anywhere. According to Wendys.com, the restaurant has the Baconator®, Son of Baconator®, and Dave’s Single®. Also on BurgerKing.com, the restaurant has the Cheddar Bacon King™ and the Impossible™ Whopper® for vegetarians. According to McDonalds.com, the restaurant has the Big Mac®, McDouble®, and Double Quarter Pounder® with Cheese. This shows where you can get a good hamburger from anywhere.

I just showed you some reasons I believe hamburgers are

better than chicken nuggets. Not only can you get a hamburger almost anywhere, but hamburgers come in all varieties such as beef burgers, veggie burgers, elk burgers, turkey burgers, and plant-based burgers for vegetarians. I hope I shed some light on the likes of hamburgers. So enjoy your hamburgers.

Should Sports Be Segregated by Gender? Sade Bryant • 5th Grade W R I T T E N D U R I N G A N I N - S C H O O L S R E S I D E N C Y AT P S 3 1 6

ports should not be segregated by gender. They should not be segregated by gender because it does not matter who plays what, it is not fair how boys and girls can’t play

together, and sports are made for both boys and girls.

Sports should not be segregated by gender because it does

not matter who plays what. I think this because I like playing sports and one time in my life, just because of my gender, they did not let me play. I felt hurt and I felt disrespected and when people don’t allow people to play sports because of their gender do they think about their feelings? Because it can lead to depression and more.

Another reason why sports should not be segregated by

gender is because it is not fair how boys and girls can’t play together, and everyone should be allowed to play together. Everyone should be able to have equal rights with any sport and any game because this is selfish to all the females. 99% of women got rejected by a male because they did not let a female play a sport they care about a lot. Sometimes, I think if sports were not segregated so much then we would be able to work as a community more.

The last reason I think it is not fair how sports are segregated

is because sports are made for both boys and girls and everyone

should have a chance to try something new and special to them. Girls should have a chance to prove themselves and they should get a chance to play whenever they want. I think they should make a bet that if the girls win then they get to play with the boys whenever they want but if the boys win then we will leave them alone.

In conclusion, people should just be equal with sports

and not make people feel ashamed about them. At the end of the day we are all still the same people and we should care for each other.

In Support of a Four Day School Week Christian Leon • 5th Grade W R I T T E N D U R I N G A N I N - S C H O O L S R E S I D E N C Y AT P S 3 1 6

chool is hard, right? It lasts long as well. Read this text to find the pros of a four day school week! Before we get started, here are some things you should know about a four day

school week. A four day school week would be a good thing, but most people think of cons instead of pros. Well, let’s get started.

First, let’s talk about the pros for the teachers. Some teach-

ers take a long time to plan lessons. Well, the extended weekend can help them make lesson plans. Another pro is that teachers won’t have to worry about kids falling asleep in class because a longer weekend gives students time to rest. This is the last pro for teachers, but before we get into that, if we have a four day school week, class will last longer. Alright, let’s go into the last pro for teachers! The final pro for teachers, since class will be longer, is that they will have more time to teach students math, ELA, etc, etc.

Hello there, fellow students. These are also a few pros

for you.

Alright, so, sometimes students are late because they sleep

in. Well, if you have a four day school week, you can set your alarms, get some rest, and it can improve your attendance.

Also, the extended weekend will let you have more time to

do your homework, and you won’t be stressed.

Well, now that youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ve heard all my pros for a four day week,

do you think we should have a four day school week? If you do, but still want more evidence, search it on Google.

Boys and Girls are the Same, in Different Ways Angel Barnett • 5th Grade W R I T T E N D U R I N G A N I N - S C H O O L S R E S I D E N C Y AT P S 3 1 6

dults have different standards for boys and girls. One reason adults have different standards for boys and girls is because parents believe that sons should pursue top-

level careers and daughters should have mid-level careers. Another reason adults have different standards for boys and girls is because parents are also more likely to control the type of food their daughters consume. On the other hand, parents are less worried about their sons’ diets. The last reason adults have different standards for boys and girls is because parents also have the perception that daughters should be more protected than sons.

One reason adults have different standards for boys and

girls is because parents have the belief sons should pursue top-level careers and daughters should have mid-level careers. For example, boys should get degrees and girls shouldn’t.

Another reason adults have different standards for boys

and girls is because parents are more likely to control the type of food their daughters’ consume. For example, if their son eats chips and candy, the daughter will have to eat vegetables.

The last reason adults have different standards for boys and

girls is because parents also have the perception that daughters should be more protected than sons. For instance, if a girl goes

out she needs to be with someone, but with sons they can be by themselves because they can defend themselves.

In conclusion, others may say that adults have the same

standards for boys and girls. However, it is true that, in reality, they have different expectations for boys and girls. For boys and girls, we are the same in different ways.

I Am a Piano Karina Hoeflinger â&#x20AC;¢ Age 7 WRITTEN DURING JAM SESH, A VIRTUAL WRITING WORKSHOP

I am a piano My voice is music I sound like music I sing out loud I hear voices around me I want it to be quiet Except for my beautiful music

If My Life Was a Song Mia Kroshka â&#x20AC;¢ Age 11 WRITTEN DURING JAM SESH, A VIRTUAL WRITING WORKSHOP

If my life was a song, I would sing along. With the beat of the drum And the fast moving people Left, right With their heads up high, As I skip down the trail, With my head in a daze, As we still hear music play, Even from far away I know it is me.

Tiger Shenandoah Fischer â&#x20AC;¢ Age 7 WRITTEN DURING LIVING ROOM SAFARI, A VIRTUAL WRITING WORKSHOP

I am a tiger My voice is strong I sound like a tiger I sing with words from my guts I hear with my strong tiger ears I want to be a little more brave than I am I think to push myself, even when it gets hard in life I am a tiger, and I am fierce

Secti

on 3

Sto r i es G ro w a b o u t in Think g Up & ing B ack

e m i T As ost L s t e G

The Biggest Problem Ana Rosas • Age 8 W R I T T E N D U R I N G T H E A F T E R SC H O O L T U TO R I N G & W R I T I N G P R O G R A M I N P A R K S LO P E

aria and her team were solving a mystery problem, but then they got separated, and Maria got kidnapped by her mean twin, Maddy. They put a sleeping spell on Maria.

Maddy also had her team. They put Maria in the car, and got to their secret lab. The only way to get Maria out was by her friends, before she got pushed in the pool with sharks.

At least they had a tracker in Maddy’s car. They followed

where the car led, and finally Maria’s team came to Maddy’s secret lab. They went inside and got Maria back.

But now Maria’s friends were kidnapped, and Maddy’s team

got a new secret lab. Maria followed the tracker and it led her to a house. She went inside, and this time it was lava. Maria said, “How do they get all this stuff?” She found her team in separate rooms, but she couldn’t find her best friend, Lena. She finally did find her, but the room she was in was locked. She found a key under the carpet. She tried it in the door and it opened. She got her friend, but then Maria got caught. They put Maria in another room that was locked.

There was a key somewhere inside the room, so Maria

searched the room. Maria’s team was in a mansion and left Maria. Maddy’s team was hoping that Maria would get out of the house by herself, but they actually didn’t leave her. The mansion was outside. She escaped and got her friends, and they got in the

car. They went back to the forest where their problem was, and they saw bandits. They saw the bandits hiding a treasure chest. They hid, and when the bandits left, they quietly ran to where the bandits hid the treasure. They opened it and there was the next clue of the problem! The clue was a note that said, “Your next clue is where crunchy leaves are.”

“I know where that is! It’s in the magic river!” Maria said.

“Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go!” said one of her

mates. They found the lost girl and that means that Maria’s team solved the problem. They went back to their house and took a break. They never got separated again.

THE END * B Y T H E WAY, M A R I A’ S T E A M I S N A M E D M Y S T E R Y S T O R I E S , A N D M A D DY ’ S T E A M I S N A M E D M E A N G I R L S .

Dear 23 Year Old Me David Castro • Age 13 W R I T T E N D U R I N G T H E A F T E R SC H O O L T U TO R I N G & WRITING PROGRAM IN WILLIAMSBURG

Dear 23 year old me, Did we graduate college? Did we get a degree in biology? Are we applying for medical school? Are we drowning in debt? Is Ollie still alive? Are we dating anyone? Sorry for asking questions, but I’m just really curious. Please remember to call Mom and Dad. – 13 year old me

My Bear Michelle Olmos • Age 9 W R I T T E N D U R I N G T H E A F T E R SC H O O L T U TO R I N G & WRITING PROGRAM IN WILLIAMSBURG

hile I was sleeping I heard a door close. When I woke up, I noticed my Teddy was gone. I went to search the whole house. I thought I left my Teddy in the basement,

so I searched the basement but it wasn’t there. I checked outside but it wasn’t there either, so I asked my friend if my Teddy was with her. I thought she would say yes, but she said no.

Then I heard something in the kitchen, and I saw a person

that had my Teddy. It was a famous person. I saw him on TV three days ago. But he was from the past. I knew that because he’s been dead for five years. I was scared. I needed to get rid of him, so I made a machine. I teleported through his back, got my Teddy back, and made the person go back in time. I washed my hands and my Teddy, and then I went back to bed with my Teddy.

When the Clock Strikes 12 Delilah Rodrigo • 9th Grade WRITTEN DURING AN IN-SCHOOLS RESIDENCY AT A C A D E M Y F O R Y O U N G W R I T E R S

11:41

p.m. Sunday night. I thought you were the one for me, but the jazz music upstairs says otherwise. He always made me laugh at the

dumbest jokes while walking to school. All I was able to imagine was him, in the sunset light. We walked through the halls and the mint gum in my mouth was losing its flavor, reminding me of time I had with you. But that wasn’t love—it was a daydream. Running through a strawberry field with one who isn’t you. 11:54 p.m. Time is not our friend.

Six Word Memoir Had fun until the night fell.

A Cold Summer Jamel R. Jefferson • 10th Grade WRITTEN DURING AN IN-SCHOOLS RESIDENCY AT A C A D E M Y F O R Y O U N G W R I T E R S

sit in my room, a slave to a broom, a groom with no ballroom, a gun that won’t boom, a life with no loom, and wishing it was me and you while I sit in my room. My pain is

in vain, veins to veins, ashes to ashes, dust to dust, blood to rust, corrosion to us, eroding us up. Death left with heft, leaving no depth, yet there’s a hole in my chest. There was nothing to leave and no one to grieve.

Our Names Were Written in Stone Sarah Harrell WRITTEN DURING AN IN-SCHOOLS RESIDENCY AT A C A D E M Y F O R Y O U N G W R I T E R S

eptember 2016, the sun shone bright that day. The school’s basketball court was crowded with other seventh graders I didn’t speak to. But I had my people, all eight of them. I

remember taking the black Sharpie marker as half of us crowded around the cement bench. The trees rustled behind us, as the other half of us hung off the wired fence. We were staring down at the bench. The strong chemical odor mixed with the smell of summer flooded the air. Our names were scribbled on the left corner of the back side of the cement. We’re forever immortalized together.

Six Word Memoir I actually feel things around you.

Breaking the Fast: A Breakfast Dilemma Tamia Johnson • 12th Grade WRITTEN DURING AN IN-SCHOOLS RESIDENCY AT A C A D E M Y F O R Y O U N G W R I T E R S

To eat this, or to eat that, that is my struggle. Shall I enter the kitchen to hear my family’s thunderous banter,

becoming a Scrooge of sound

And retreat to my safe haven with food in hand Or keep my eyes closed to not acknowledge

the Sunday morning light assaulting my vision

And ignore the question that will be, unfortunately,

heading my way?

“What do you want to eat?” A dreaded inquisition that my indecisive self cannot truly defeat. Food and I are in a thousand-year war. I have declared my independence long ago,

like the Americans did to Great Britain,

But food knows his opponent very well,

and challenges my fussiness to the extremes.

He is aware of my favorites, likes, and dislikes. He knows when I’m about to complain and whine. Yet, he always presents a plate full of the unknown and disgust. And he laughs as I eat anyway,

because not disappointing people is a must.

For I am no Jesus, since I cannot turn water into wine. But I wish to stay as faithful to exploring my edible horizons

as he is to God.

No matter! I must decide, as the worldâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s weight

is now on my shoulders.

Clack! Clack! Clack! A horse trotting this way? No, it cannot be. Oh no! The slapping of slippers against a wooden floor Means Mom is coming right this way towards my door! I sit up from the bed quickly, head spinning faster

than Earth on its axis.

I must narrow down my options for the hourglass

has little sand left.

Eggs with cheese, a contradictory meal of mine. Cheese, a lovely delicacy straight from the Lordâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s plate. But I will always tell Sam-I-Am that I do not like green eggs

(but I do like ham).

To my eyes, nose, and tongue, they are a disgrace. Yet, the cheese hides the whiteness of the eggs,

making me forget I despised them in the first place.

Prepare for the controversy and unorthodox For cereal, to me, is a mere snack and not breakfast. Yes, it tastes sugary and sweet, with diabetes abound. The problem lies in the plain milk, which I will forever hate. Simultaneously, it is tasteless and unpleasant. That bothers me so Which is why I say the cereal must go.

Bacon, a worthy contender with the heart

of high blood pressure and salt intake.

Although smoked to perfection, seemingly without a flaw, I know in my heart that is truly wrong. Bacon and I, estranged lovers tragically separated

by this sovereign of unjust pain,

Brought by what my mouth has conceived, the wisdom tooth. The crunch of each bite is akin to chewing needles and glass,

sending my mouth aflame.

Now, Bacon and I part ways. What a shame, what a shame.

College Soliloquy Deondre Burkett • 12th Grade WRITTEN DURING AN IN-SCHOOLS RESIDENCY AT A C A D E M Y F O R Y O U N G W R I T E R S

To college or not to college That is the question I would not wish to go to college because I would like to rest Relax and eat hot ramen To sleep and feel the soft pillow on my cheek. To sleep and never be woke Ahh there’s the rub, to never see something different It’s like staying asleep for your whole life. There’s a whole world of reality that I have yet to experience So much life that there’s left to see Oh but I have to study again with boring teachers and Consume my time like rats in a sewer. Now it is time to crawl out the manhole covers and learn Like a colony of rats Learn to avoid cats

During Quarantine Tolani Adeyemi • 12th Grade WRITTEN DURING AN IN-SCHOOLS RESIDENCY AT A C A D E M Y F O R Y O U N G W R I T E R S

Should I or should I not, that is the question: Whether ‘tis better to start working out again

or relax and enjoy the quarantine

As I lay there on my bed, phone in hand, staring

at the empty space in the middle of my room

I think to thyself, with this newfound free time,

should I work on my body?

For Michael B. Jordan is who I wish to embody, but I feel shoddy My arms are as flimsy as spaghetti

and my beach body is not ready

Working out would solve this, but at what cost? Forcing thyself into strenuous acts I will begin to feel lost But that’s not the worst, for working out

would take time from my Netflix

However, it would be unproductive to choose TV over athletics Aye, there’s the rub: Does choosing desire make me a cub? You know what, to hell with your criticism,

whether or not constructive

I choose to enjoy my free time being unproductive.

Hunger Tyriq Lieu Ken-Pen • 12th Grade WRITTEN DURING AN IN-SCHOOLS RESIDENCY AT A C A D E M Y F O R Y O U N G W R I T E R S

To be or not to be, that is the question Whether it is nobler to make myself something to eat Or sit in silence, relaxed by my concession. I have no energy to leave my room But eating something may regain my strength Aye, there’s the rub! My hunger overwhelms me comparable to that of Atlas So it is decided I shall leave my bed to make a sandwich Right after I update my status. Walking to the kitchen is like walking on a treadmill You feel like you are going somewhere But in reality you are stationary. Alas I reached the kitchen but what sandwich should I make? Should it be a grilled cheese Or a PB&J Or maybe I should try something fancy No, I’m as lazy as a billionaire’s last-born child So I shall just make a PB&J. The ingredients are rather easy to find I start to spread peanut butter on a slice of whole wheat bread It isn’t until I put jelly on another slice that I notice

the difference of texture

The smooth texture of the peanut butter and—

100

No, this is making me hungrier, I must eat now The sweetness of the jelly complements The flavors and textures of the bread and peanut butter I feel like Gordon Ramsay But I am happy to finally relinquish myself To the deep anguish called Hunger

101

INTERVIEW: MICHELLE BOATENG TALKS VEGANISM Michelle Boateng WRITTEN DURING AN IN-SCHOOLS RESIDENCY AT B R O N X L E A D E R S H I P A C A D E M Y I I

Michelle Boateng is a 16-year old student at Bronx Leadership Academy II (BLAII) and a vegan, which means she doesn’t eat meat or any other animal products like eggs and dairy. Read what she has to say! BLAII Times: How did you get interested in veganism? Michelle: Me and my sister made a deal saying we’re not going to eat meat until… never. So we started the deal and it’s going pretty good. BLAII Times: When did you start? Michelle: I started two summers ago, in 2017. BLAII Times: What was one of the hard things about becoming a vegan? Michelle: Learning to read the labels. A lot of food contains bacon stuff, so I had to learn not to eat those foods. And my parents are always making meat stuff, so I’m pretty sure I’m not a full vegan because I’m pretty sure I eat some meat stuff.

102

BLAII Times: What kinds of dishes do you like to make? Michelle: I like sweet potatoes, plantains, vegetables, and fruits. I love fruits! Soup with corn. BLAII Times: What was your motivation to become a vegan? Michelle: To be healthy, to save the planet, to look better, and live to be old. It helps the environment because we are saving the animals, which will help the environment become more wild. BLAII Times: Do you think other people should try to be vegan? Michelle: Yes, definitely. But they should start by becoming a vegetarian and then go vegan. BLAII Times: Is there anything else you want people to know about veganism? Michelle: Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s hard, but if you know the kind of food to eat youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re gonna be set!

103

The Blood of Kings E’nasia Smith • 12th Grade W R I T T E N D U R I N G A N I N - S C H O O L S R E S I D E N C Y AT H I G H S C H O O L F O R G LO B A L C I T I Z E N S H I P

America. Stained with the blood of our kings. Sweat dripping from their melanated skin as they run from the boys in blue. I can’t breathe. You’re gonna kill me. Mama. 1863. Freedom! No more whips or shackles. Only batons and handcuffs. I can’t breathe.

104

Spiraling Ilana Isabel Guaraca • 12th Grade W R I T T E N D U R I N G A N I N - S C H O O L S R E S I D E N C Y AT L A B S C H O O L F O R CO L L A B O R AT I V E S T U D I E S

I’m running on ice to a place with no true form. Asleep on the highest shelf next to my parents’ wedding china the remembrances reside. The imprint of a young girl’s body on wet grass. Laughter no one could hear. Screams bleeding through the shower wall voices amplified echoed through every eye shut and breath held not my family this time. Red cracks running under ice covering a soft face of simple wood covering a grandmother’s soft dream of her late love. The trees too quiet in their whispers of warnings unsure of what three hours may have done. Turning a year old in the season we met you smelling like winter again. Waking up to an eyelash stuck on my finger only to be lost among the folds in the sheets of my bed. A year of soul in negatives frames of life in sets of fives.

105

Your words like seasons ever-changing yet consistent in their warmth. Strolling down the sun-stained sidewalk in mid-May wondering how it feels to walk alongside me. Light waking up with the strike of a match. Home in a game of hopscotch— home in a few weeks each summer— home in another man’s dog— home in the slam of a door— home on the branch of a weak tree just waiting for her to fall. Life in the arms of a railing spiraling thirty years of time into a house of his own. Blue light brushing the highlights of her falling cheekbones, looking out for her, as she lives out life on the living room couch. Leaving my childhood in the roots of the plants, covering the soon to be paved ground, a ground that will be as unfamiliar to me as reality to an eleven-year-old. The sounds slip away from my ears, sights peeled away from each eye, and my mouth is taut, as time is broken, as time gets lost.

106

Pain in the System Maurice W R I T T E N D U R I N G A N I N - S C H O O L S R E S I D E N C Y AT P A S S A G E S A C A D E M Y, B E L M O N T

unning from the cops—there were four of them. I was only 11 years-old, and I was with two other kids older than me. They were 14 and 15 years-old. I ran into the corner store in

my neighborhood. I said, “Give me your money,”—the guy said, “No.” The older kids pulled out a gun, but it was actually a BB gun. The guy thought it was real and he put up his hands. He opened the cash register and gave us the money. It was snowing outside, so it was around December or January. After that I ran and I slipped on the ice. My boys picked me up and we kept running till we got to my neighborhood. Then I looked behind me, and I saw two cops chasing me at first. But that didn’t bother me—I kept on running. Then I saw the cop car lights and I got scared. The lights scared me. The cop car pulled up in front of me and the cop pulled out his gun. Then I put my hands up, and they put me in the cop car and took me to the 60th Precinct.

They called my mother, and then they called the Juvenile

desk and said we are bringing a kid named Maurice. They took me to the Juvenile Detention Center. It took about an hour to get there by cop car. It looked just like a jail, and I was scared. I walked in a room. One of the boys asked me, “Are you in a gang?” I said, “Yeah.” It turned out that we were both in the same gang. That was the first time I ever said out loud that I was in a gang. He believed me because I said all the right things. I

107

went to sleep. There were a few other kids there with me. Then I went to court and saw the judge. He said I could go home with my mom. I remember I had pizza from Domino’s that night. I went to sleep, and I have no idea what happened the next day. I was tired—tired from going through the system. I’m still in the system now but I feel like I have changed in certain ways.

108

Untitled Fanta Ballo • Age 19 WRITTEN IN QUARANTEEN VOICES

They asked me, “How does it feel to know that I am living

in a moment of history?”

And to be honest, at first it didn’t really occur to me That a decade from now my experience will be a DBQ question

on the Global Regents

And they’ll have to write an essay about what they read And luckily I can keep my pen to myself ’cause I already seen it And some days I go to sleep, wake up,

and feel like I’m dreaming

I’ve become numb to pandemics, wars,

and disasters happening abroad

I took my life for granted Forgot how much of a privilege it was to live in America To wake up every day and have an outside to go to The privilege of breathing in air fresh enough to keep you alive Parks became the staple for adolescents

in the community to play

And no one ever questioned the park ’cause it was always there School was always there Food was always there We almost always had it good in comparison Now that I think about it, it’s really embarrassing We were safe in this bubble But today we’re not

109

Today we realize that we are no better than any other country We are no better than any other citizen The virus is coming for the rich and the poor For the hospitals and grocery stores And years from now Children will read about this moment

and wonder what it was like for us

For the people who lived through a widespread pandemic The pandemic that made the city that never sleeps Sleep How the things we took for granted

suddenly became a necessity.

Ain’t it funny how we were told that we rely way too much

on technology

Now technology has become the only thing we can rely on Having to code-switch between our friends and our professors We slide from Zoom to Zoom like a python Hearts shattered for millions of seniors who will

not get to commence

Not get to walk down that aisle and get the honorary paper

that will let them know their years meant something

Them late nights in the library meant something Them student loans meant something ’Cause in all of this we’ve seemed to have forgot something

that I am hoping is written in them history books

Before anything else we are human And as scary as this virus is, it knows what it’s doing Reminding us that in the inside we are all the same We all deserve this thing called life and if we take it for granted It can be stripped away any second

110

’Cause life works in circles I guess that’s the roundabout way of saying one day

we will all be gone

Some of us fortunate enough to be more than just

a statistic in a history book

The most famous of us will have a street or school

named in our honor

But the most Important won’t be the ones

who made billions and prospered

It will be the ones who lived every day with love It will be the ones who lend the helping hand to those

who needed it the most

It will be the heroes that didn’t wear capes It will be the ones who went the extra step to save humanity It will be the ones that were asked, “How does it feel

to know that you are living in a moment of history?”

And they will answer, “Didn’t really think about it.”

111

112

Secti

on 4

Sto r i es and A about N YC d ve n t u re s , H o m e, B eyo nd

Moving From Place to Place Issa Caothien • Age 12 W R I T T E N D U R I N G T H E A F T E R SC H O O L T U TO R I N G & W R I T I N G P R O G R A M I N P A R K S LO P E

Boom! It was 1973. My dad was born. I tried looking for my dad. I looked at a picture of my dad on my phone. Some people were already surrounding me because I had a phone and appeared out of nowhere. I saw a little boy who looked like my dad. He was very skinny and short. I saw my uncle and my two aunts. They were all running around with their sandals and short-sleeve shirts and pants. It was very hot in Vietnam. I was sweating more than I ever did! It was very humid and I couldn’t stand up straight. I wanted to see my mom now. I grabbed my phone out of my pocket and looked at my mom’s picture. Boom! I saw this little girl and two boys walking to school with her backpack. She was walking with my two uncles. I looked at my phone to make sure that I wasn’t looking at a stranger. She looked a lot different than now. I wanted to say something but I couldn’t because then it would be weird. I couldn’t go up to her and say that I was her child. She would be freaked out. I couldn’t keep on walking near her. They kept on staring at me also for walking next to them without a backpack. It started to get weird, so I decided to go back to where I am now. Boom! Now, I’m back here at 826NYC telling my chapbook story.

114

Grand Central Renee Ricevuto â&#x20AC;˘ Age 15 W R I T T E N D U R I N G T H E A F T E R SC H O O L T U TO R I N G & W R I T I N G P R O G R A M I N P A R K S LO P E

The station is in a constant time lapse. People walk as if sped up unnaturally edited, distorted, a concrete mirage. A fresco of stars hangs overhead Itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s not worth the strained neck and wasted time to witness a pale false night.

115

The R Train Mia Cruz • Age 12 W R I T T E N D U R I N G T H E A F T E R SC H O O L T U TO R I N G & W R I T I N G P R O G R A M I N P A R K S LO P E

nce, I was on the R train and halfway to 53rd St. when we stopped. People didn’t think anything of it, because it always happens.

Then the conductor got on the speaker. “We have a train in front of ––” he stopped. Suddenly, we heard a yell. A yell for help. Then we heard a noise, an awful noise. That voice was the conductor. The lights of the train turned off. Then flicked back on. I looked around, my mind was racing. Everybody was GONE. I didn’t see anyone. The lights started flickering off and on, off and on. The conductor had said there was a train in front of us. Was there? If not, what was?

I decided to check the other cars. I tried to be quiet, just in

case. But what I saw next was terrifying. Some sort of animal/ human was eating a man. I gasped and it turned around. Panic. I had to get out of here, but how? I was trapped in the tunnel, and the train had stopped. The conductor was dead, and everyone was gone.

I finally decided what I was going to do. I was going to walk

all the way to the last car and open the door, and walk through the tunnel into 53rd St. I had a phone, but there was no point in calling because there was no service down there.

I tried to not make noise, just in case the monster heard.

Then, I remembered I had gasped when I saw it, and it had heard

116

me. It was coming after me. I started to walk faster and faster until my footsteps turned into running. I had finally got to the end. This was my chance to esca–– I was cut off by the same noise that went over the speaker. Oh no. The monster is closer. I struggled to open the last door, but it finally opened. I started running as fast as I could.

I stopped to catch my breath. A shadow casted against the

wall. It looked huge. I looked behind me. Standing there was the most horrifying thing I have ever seen. The creature had no mouth and had empty eye sockets. I screamed, and ran like never before. It was hard. Hard because the train tracks were there. Suddenly I saw the lights. The station!

I ran faster and I saw a light. It was the station, but there was

no one there, just like the train. I climbed up the stairs and into the night. Finally. Safe. There was no one in the streets, either. No noise. Quiet. What was going on? It was dark, I was scared, and I needed to get home. No cars, no people, no noise. Where was everyone? I started running to my house. Before I knew it, I was in front of it. I got in and quickly turned on the television: “Everybody, STAY IN YOUR HOUSE AND LOCK ALL DOORS AND WINDOWS. Whatever you do, don’t go outside. There is some kind of creature, a cannibal out there.” The creature! It had eaten all of the people on the train?!

I went to sleep, scared of what could happen the next day.

I woke up, and quickly went downstairs to see the news:

“259 people found dead in the R train tunnel.” How did they find them? When I was there, everybody was gone. What happened to the creature?

117

I didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t notice it, but I was one of the only people that

survived the horrible event. Or was I?

118

Illusions Malachi Makoso • Age 12 W R I T T E N D U R I N G T H E A F T E R SC H O O L T U TO R I N G & W R I T I N G P R O G R A M I N P A R K S LO P E

ne day, Joe came to a phone booth because he forgot his phone at home. The phone booth looked exactly like the other phone booths, but this booth was far

away from the others, and he went there because he didn’t want anyone looking at his eyes and humiliating him. He stepped into the booth and dialed 1937, his house number, thinking his father would answer. But instead, there was a huge whirring sound, and the booth was picked up and started to spin. There was a flash of light, and he suddenly flew into a vortex. He yelled, “STOOOOOPP!” There was a huge thud, and he passed out. He woke up and said, “Where am I? Why am I here? I wasn’t here before!” He discovered a gash on his head and thought to himself, “Oh! That’s what happened, those bullies jumped me and dragged me into the woods!” He got up and walked right into the glass. He was in a telephone booth. Boom crack! And Joe woke up. He was right, he got jumped, and he got up and went home. On the way, he started crying. Crying turned to sobbing, sobbing turned to bawling. He faced his dad. When his dad saw him, he immediately knew what had happened. “Shh, shhh, there, there!” he said, “It’s alright!” Then Joe went to sleep, and the next day he didn’t forget his phone.

119

Demon Train Lisaury Adames â&#x20AC;˘ Age 14 W R I T T E N D U R I N G T H E A F T E R SC H O O L T U TO R I N G & WRITING PROGRAM IN WILLIAMSBURG

Walking to the train station MetroCard in hand Rush hour is here Better hurry before it leaves Weird smells roam the air A dirty floor with a rat dragging a pizza How is it doing that, why? IDK. I pass my MetroCard through the turnstile And I go to my train I donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t think I was thinking straight So many people, I could not see I found the nearest train and assumed It was the one, but I was wrong The passengers looked different They had horns, fangs, and fur With pointy tails, scales, and nails The train began to descend down

120

Down to the ground I saw rocks and minerals as the Train went into the earth All I did was sit in my seat Between two demons that smiled at me With sinister glee I waited for my destination Until I saw through the window The fires of hell

121

Neighborhood Cresseide Jacques â&#x20AC;˘ 11th Grade W R I T T E N D U R I N G A N I N - S C H O O L S R E S I D E N C Y AT HIGH SCHOOL OF FASHION INDUSTRIES

grew up far away. My neighborhood was different from those who lived in America, let alone the city. My childhood resided in a well-known, but also forgotten country

in South America. To the right of Venezuela and to the left of Suriname and French Guiana, Guyana is where I grew up. I lived in a house that stood on stilts, with four stone pillars that dug into the soil with an old, broken grey fence that surrounded the long house. To get to my house from the main street, you took an alleyway that led to a wooden gate. One with chains and locks to keep us from running away when we were younger.

Adjacent to my house was my primary school, as we say.

One with yellow uniforms and yellow ribbon bows that sat in our hair as we waited for our parents to pick us up. We were across the street, so the day I walked home by myself without permission was the day I became more alert and rational about certain things. I did get in trouble, but I would hardly call a scolding a serious punishment.

As a child I loved to play downstairs, beneath the house on

stilts in the mud and grass. I would sneak down there during what I considered nap time. I was almost always certain that at this time during the day, almost half of the town was asleep. That was the type of aura of this time. So being the hyper children we were, my sister and I snuck downstairs and played in the mud

122

while my mum slept with the new addition to our family.

With a flat piece of blue soap and an old broken kitchen

knife, my older sister and I began making what we called 5-star gourmet mud pies. We sprinkled a few plants here and there and we were done, for nothing could beat our garnishes. Our grins on display, as our teeth never shied away from a smile.

During this time it was quiet, with only a few cars passing by

and select people hollering down the street. The main sounds, however, came from the market behind my house. It’s as long as 3-and-a-half Manhattan blocks with vendors lined up in every nook and cranny. They sold everything there, from food to fruits to cleaning supplies to clothing. If you consider that everyone is able to grow their own food and sell it without much of a permit, then you can imagine a bunch of vendors calling out to buyers with these fast-calling sales. Their words jumbled together as they hollered about bread and fresh mangoes.

Standing tall and proud in the center of this market was the

fish market. To a child it was a maze, one that took you to the other side of the market if one wrong turn was made. It was most definitely not a playground. The smell of fish was prominent and mothers everywhere made sure to hold their children’s hands, their rules: stay close, keep quiet, and “Don’t bother me unless yuh dying or getting kidnapped. Make sure you scream and kick so I know it’s you.” It may seem harsh, but it’s true. Getting lost in the fish market is like never seeing your parents again. You could either end up in a ditch or in the hands of a stranger yelling, “Ah who pickney this!” who probably doesn’t intend to return you, and would either:

A. Leave you there

123

B. Take you home

C. Take you to the police station

Or D. Sell your organs It’s a common thing and is sometimes taken lightly by the police. Despite this, children still run around without their parents and the only way that’s possible is if you or your family have a reputation. One that’s upheld through your family’s last name. Whall was ours, along with Jacques. It was common sense to others to leave certain families alone. Especially when you were part of two known families. One had a more legal and governmental status despite it’s illegal past. The other was straight dangerous, filled with crooks whose only job was to protect the family and their values.

I grew up between neighborhoods, one in town, a more ur-

ban area, and in my village, Victoria, where my parents grew up. In the village, our house stood on a few stilts but sat atop a downstairs where my aunt lived with a small patio in the front. It was all green. You could spot it from a mile away, as soon as you entered our narrow street, lined with trenches for rainwater, wild grass, and dirt. The second house on the side opposite ours was a bright pink. They were our rivals. My parents’ childhood rivals. Whatever renovations we did to the house, they did to theirs. My grandmother placed tiles in our yard. It was too dull for her even though we had tons of plants decorating the front and back already. It hadn’t been a few months before they did the same.

We found it funny that they took half of their life and ded-

icated it to doing everything better than us. It made us feel as though we were doing something right. Next to our house on the

124

right was an abandoned school. Where adults would hang out, kids would play, and boys would make business washing cars to the side of the school. It was abandoned but useful. Then there was the field with a giant copper metal. It always reminded me of a football except it was cut open in the middle. I never really asked what it was because it is what it is. Across from this plain field was an actual ball field where the boys would play fútbol. Fútbol as in soccer, of course. My uncle played there all the time. Fútbol is an important sport in my family. My father played, my uncles, my sister, brother, and so on and so forth.

To the end of the road, past the fields and high grass, is the

sea wall. A wall that borders the sea, controls the tide and eases in the waves. It’s also the best spot to fly kites and go for a walk. Play a game and even fish. The sea wall stretches from both ends of the border of Guyana along the Caribbean sea. It’s quite a sight. It’s been there since my mother’s childhood and hasn’t really changed since then. Hence the stories of when they were kids and they would run into the salty water and bathe or try to fish. I remember the story of the mermaid. Where my mother and uncle went out one morning. They were both shoving and pushing each other as they dragged sticks against the dirt ground. Looking out into the sea they both spotted rainbow scales a couple feet out with a hand and long tail diving back into the waters. Of course I wouldn’t believe this if it wasn’t for the other stories.

Stories were always the best part of my childhood. It includ-

ed the tales of beings and spirits that reside in certain locations around the village. Stories that told about spirits dragging you to the bottom of the river and ones that suck the soul out of you. They also included how to identify certain spirits and what to

125

keep in your house to prevent them from entering. My childhood was filled with family morals, stories, and discipline that would put yelling to shame. Never that beatings weren’t enjoyed on both sides. They were a warning, a threat to troublemakers. If you didn’t get good licks then you ended up spoiled and like the kids that didn’t understand what no meant.

I was glad to dodge that bullet. I am more than happy about

my childhood. Many memories still burn as though they were still occurring. Both bad and good. My neighborhood was my childhood, one that morphed a hard-headed, stubborn fool that can’t help but try and please more than she can handle.

Born outside the USA, Cresseide Jacques, a 17-year-old high school student, enjoys reading, music and tends to her imagination when bored. She’s simply another face in the crowd.

126

From Corona, Queens Andres G W R I T T E N D U R I N G A N I N - S C H O O L S R E S I D E N C Y AT P A S S A G E S A C A D E M Y, B E L M O N T

From Corona, Queens where I grew up with nothing that turned to something. From trapping and finessing every day â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;til that one day that all the something turn to nothing again. And there I was, cold and in handcuffs, thinking how bad I messed up. Now 16 months later, still away from home, spending holiday after holiday in the same place, looking back at how I grew up in the system, but with a better and more mature mindset, trying to be a better me and succeed.

127

Visiting Sing Sing Ezequiel W R I T T E N D U R I N G A N I N - S C H O O L S R E S I D E N C Y AT P A S S A G E S A C A D E M Y, B E L M O N T

he program brought us to Sing Sing because they felt like we needed inmates to tell us about themselves, and the people from the program wanted us to learn something from that.

When we arrived, they took our cell phones, and when we went in I walked through a scanner to my left. They also made me take off my shoes and bang them together.

Then, they opened this gate and made everybody sit in

the next room, and wait for like five minutes. Then we went to another big-ass room, where the guards spoke to us for a little bit. The guards were telling us about the prisoners, and how the jail was run. The guards showed us all over. First, they brought us to the block where the inmates were at. Then, they brought me to the basketball court, where they played ball.

Honestly, it looked kind of scary, â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;cause the guards on the

tower had big-*** guns. I didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t feel no type of way. Honestly, I felt regular.

After that, they showed us how the box looked, and they

explained how we would never wanna be in the box. The box was odee small with a bed, a sink, and a small toilet. I would never wanna be there because they treat you very badly, depending on who you are, and you could end up dying in jail.

Then they showed us the cafe, and after that we went to the

auditorium, where they had like ten inmates talk to us about

128

why they were there. Seven out of ten were there for seconddegree murder.

Their stories were kind of similar, ‘cause they did the same

stuff but worse. I think what they said was very helpful. All the information they gave us was helpful, and I learned a lot from that visit. They were explaining how they were acting off of impulse and, yeah, it made a big impact on me, ‘cause I probably would have done something stupid, and probably would have ended up where my brother is.

When I visited him, I thought back about that trip. The first

time I saw my brother locked up, it hurt me, ‘cause I knew after that day I wouldn’t see him for a minute. I couldn’t go every visit because it was really far.

129

Family & Friendships Alexia Guzman • Age 12 WRITTEN IN QUARANTEEN VOICES

y parents decided to bring me to their special place they visited growing up. It was Coney Island. Mom told me that she remembers Grandpa and Grandma bringing

her there along with my uncles, and they had such a great time. I remember seeing a big ferris wheel from the window of my parent’s car as we drove. I started to feel as if I was already on the ride. My stomach had butterflies and my head started to hurt after all that overthinking about the rides. As we walked closer and closer, I could hear the popcorn popping. The smell of pizza and funnel cake was so intoxicating. I could hear the loud screams of people on the roller coaster when it dropped, but I could also hear the laughter of people playing Go Fish. I saw little kids, families, couples, and friends all hanging out together. There were so many rides, and I wanted to get on all of them!

As I walked in, I saw the first ride I wanted to get on: The

Tickler. I wanted to get on it all by myself, but the ride was so big I could not get on unless there was an adult. Since the cart held five people, I asked my parents, sister, and uncle to get on with me. We sat in a red cart that spins you around and around while moving up and down. It was my first time on the ride, and they told me, “Just close your eyes and hold your breath,” so I closed my eyes. I could hear the tracks slowing as we were about to go down. I could hear the rest of my family cheering me on, and I squeezed my mom’s hand. I accidentally opened my eyes

130

when we hit the top. I knew I messed up at that point, and then we dropped. I felt as if I was about to die. I tried to scream but nothing came out because I was so scared. My heart was beating so fast I couldn’t breathe. We were going so fast and moving up, down, sideways, any way you can possibly think of. The air was pushing my face. I was so scared, yet I couldn’t stop laughing. I felt light as a feather as we dropped, but then it felt like a hundred pounds lay on me because of the weight pulling me down. As we slowed down and came to a stop, my hair looked as if I got electrocuted. My legs were shaking and I couldn’t walk properly. I had so much fun, screaming and laughing at the same time. I liked the excitement and how fast my heartbeat raced, so I went on a couple more times. I felt more confident every time I went back on. As I was walking away from the ride, I thought, it really wasn’t that bad.

I went on other rides like Lynn’s Trapeze, the B&B Carousell

and the Hang Glider, but the most memorable moment was when my mom shared her special ride with me, the ferris wheel also known as The Wonder Wheel. It was so big and tall that you could see the entire park as you reached the top. I saw the whole beach and the sun was so bright I had to squint to see. It was a little scary because the cart slowly rocked back and forth, but the view was worth it. She squeezed my hand when she felt it rock a little more than usual. You could see the neverending shoreline and everyone looked like ants.

We spent the rest of the day getting on rides, eating, and

walking the boardwalk. Maybe next time, I can try the iconic roller coaster known as the Cyclone. Its tracks are still made out of wood!

131

Poem Jeffrey Torres â&#x20AC;¢ Age 15 WRITTEN DURING THE SPOKEN WORD WEEKEND WORKSHOP

always something happening lots of movement, loud groups of people booming music

132

Secti

on 5

Sto r i es Make that Yo u l augh

Sister-Be-Gone Machine Sofia Merino • Age 10 W R I T T E N D U R I N G T H E A F T E R SC H O O L T U TO R I N G & W R I T I N G P R O G R A M I N P A R K S LO P E

s your sister annoying? Well, I invented a Sister-BeGone Machine. You should buy my product if your sister is annoying! For example, if your sister is annoying,

aggressive, and name-calling, you should buy it! It comes with invisible sister glasses and a book to help you use the glasses. First, what you want to do is read how the glasses work and test them. After that, you want to walk around your house, and when you see your sister, you quickly want to put the glasses on before she sees you and ignore her if she asks you, “What are those glasses?” You should say, “Who is talking?” Tip: The glasses warn you where your sister is or if she is near you. This is why you should buy these glasses.

134

The Garden-Destroying Goat Liam Cheng • Age 11 W R I T T E N D U R I N G T H E A F T E R SC H O O L T U TO R I N G & W R I T I N G P R O G R A M I N P A R K S LO P E

nce upon a time, there lived a couple. They recently got married and grew gardens. One particular day, the wife went outside to check on a garden and saw a goat

eating up the plants! “Uhhhhh, can you please stop eating our plants?” asked the wife.

Then the goat raised his head up and opened his plant-filled

mouth and spoke. “Bah! Don’t you know who I am?! I am the billy goat of the mount, so, so, you get out!” Then the goat turned his back to the wife, lifted his hind legs, and kicked the wife all the way back to her living room.

When her husband saw his wife sprawled on the couch, he

asked what happened. So the wife explained what happened. “That’s terrible!” exclaimed the husband. “Now who should go get rid of that goat?” he questioned.

“I’ll do it!” piped a little voice. “Hellooooo!” But nobody

heard it. “Hello?”

“Oh yeah! I should go!” exclaimed the husband. So he went

to the garden, where the goat was munching on oregano. “Hey little goat, can you please leave our precious garden?” asked the husband.

Then the goat lifted its head and spoke. “Bah! Don’t you

know who I am? I am the billy goat of the mount, so, so, you get out!” And the goat turned his back to the husband, lifted his legs,

135

and kicked him back to the doorstep, where his wife was waiting.

“Uhhhh!” groaned the wife. “Maybe we show—” she started

to say, but then, “Oh! For crying out loud!” The wife blinked her eyes, then looked down at an ant on the ground.

“I think I know how to get rid of the goat!” exclaimed the

ant. Then it gathered up its fellow ants, and they went in the goat’s fur.

Once inside, they bit down hard. “YEOOOOOOWWWWW!”

yelled the goat. The goat thrashed and thrashed and ran back to his mountain and the husband and wife lived happily ever after.

As for the ants, they snuck out of the goat and returned to

their anthill, always ready to lend a hand.

THE END

136

Pizza Falling From the Sky Jason Rivers • Age 10 W R I T T E N D U R I N G T H E A F T E R SC H O O L T U TO R I N G & W R I T I N G P R O G R A M I N P A R K S LO P E

ne morning, John woke up. It was a normal day. John turned on the television, and he put on the news. The reporter said it was going to rain pizza. When John

heard the reporter, he said, “Wow, it’s going to rain pizza! Wow, it’s going to be a nice day out.” But he thought again, and he said, “It’s raining pizza!” John got up and ran to the door and saw SO MUCH PIZZA!

His mom said he had to wait for her, and when they went

outside, all the pizza was on the ground. His mom said, “Don’t eat off the floor, it’s dirty!” He went back inside and went back to sleep. There was no school because of the weather.

When John went to sleep, he had a dream that it was go-

ing to rain hot dogs. When John woke up, he turned on the TV to see if the pizza rain was going to happen again, but sadly no. Then, something happened that was even better. It was raining burgers! But when he called his mom again, the same thing happened. Again and again, John went back to sleep and the TV woke him up with breaking news. John popped out of his bed, looked out of the window, and called his dad to ask to go outside. But his dad was not home. His mom heard him and responded, “No! You cannot go outside!” John asked a million times, but his mom kept saying no. John was angry because it was raining his favorite foods, but his mom thought he was overreacting. “There’s a lot

137

of food inside, you don’t need to go out there,” she screamed. He was traumatized. Forever.

138

Edwin on the Moon Edwin Salazar Sanches • Age 9 W R I T T E N D U R I N G T H E A F T E R SC H O O L T U TO R I N G & W R I T I N G P R O G R A M I N P A R K S LO P E

n 10 years, I will live in a dog house on the moon. I will eat a lot of beans with cheese. There’s no sink on the moon and no bathroom, so I will just go to the bathroom anywhere on

the moon. I asked NASA to fix it!

I found lipstick on the moon. I made a funny joke and posted it on YouTube. I laugh a lot and play Fortnite. I run around the moon with my imaginary friend whose name is Dogboy.

He’s very small. We fell back to Earth when I pushed him. Luckily, there was a trampoline on Earth. I was fine, but I moved the trampoline after I landed and Dogboy hurt himself. He bumped his head and broke his leg. So I dragged him to the hospital, but there was nothing they could do to save him. I didn’t make a new imaginary friend.

I went back to the moon. I played my video games in peace. I played Fortnite there. The moon has free Wi-Fi!

139

The Magic Glasses Alexander Cabrera • Age 8 W R I T T E N D U R I N G T H E A F T E R SC H O O L T U TO R I N G & WRITING PROGRAM IN WILLIAMSBURG

long time ago, in the 1990s, there was a terrible accident. It was an explosion. R.L. Stine’s glasses were flying and landed in front of a McDonald’s. George Washington put

the glasses on and everything was weird! The train station was upside down and people were walking on their heads and flying from McDonald’s.

A taser took out the glasses and destroyed them. George

Washington screamed like a girl and R.L. Stine took back his glasses and said, “Have a nice day.” R.L. Stine was a ghost and George Washington was calm because everything was back to normal. George Washington was happy until they fired him and someone else was president. George Washington was mad, so he created his own glasses and destroyed everything. He destroyed the White House and became evil!

140

Minecraft Josiah White â&#x20AC;˘ Age 9 W R I T T E N D U R I N G T H E A F T E R SC H O O L T U TO R I N G & WRITING PROGRAM IN WILLIAMSBURG

n the Minecraft world, we have Josiah and Yannel. Yannel and Josiah are spawning to a new world. They are getting some wood for their house. The house was made out of

wood. They built the chimney in case they got lost. The door was made out of oak planks. The house that Josiah and Yannel built has a downstairs. The downstairs has all of the armor.

They are making a farm for food to not die from hunger.

The Minecraft world has pigs, chickens, and sheep to make beds from, and leather armor to protect them. Five days later, they found diamonds. Yessssssss!

After they found the diamonds, they made diamond armor.

They made a sword from the zombies, skeletons, and creepers. They also made a pickaxe to mine obsidian, and to make a nether portal. They made an enchanted upgrade to their armor to make it stronger, so they can kill the Wizard and the Ender Dragon. Josiah and Yannel went to the nether to spawn it, to get the nether star, to make a beacon, to have something else to find their way home. Two hours later, they killed the wizard. One second later, the wizard blew up. Yessssssss!

141

Cravings for War: The Tasty Threat CAMBA Group 8 WRITTEN DURING A FIELD TRIP

nce, there was a french fry who helped to heal all of his friends. His name was French Fry. French Fry lived in a house made of french fries and barbecue sauce on a

planet called Food, where everything was made of food. One day, whoomans invaded the planet Food so they could take ALL the food for themselves. were

Whoomans

astronauts

who

looked like stick figures. They had forgotten to bring food on their space expedition, so they came to planet Food looking for something to eat.

The whoomans arrived in a giant spaceship. When all of the

food saw the space ship, they ran to their houses and hid under their beds. French Fry, however, did not run. He walked up to the spaceship and looked at it until the whoomans came out.

French Fry said to the whoomans, “Leave my planet, or else

you will die!”

The whoomans replied, “We are whoomans, and we will

take over your planet!”

The whoomans began to eat all of the food they could see.

“Oh no!” said French Fry, “I need to save the food!”

142

Just then, Toastie, the superhero toast, walked by and saw

the whoomans. “Leave the food alone!” he yelled. When the whoomans saw Toastie, they all ran to him and tried to eat him. French Fry quickly called his friend Timekeeper, who teleported through time to planet Food in just five seconds.

“STOP!” said Timekeeper to the whoomans. “Go back to

your home and eat something else!”

Luckily, French Fry had made a bunker to prepare in case

an invasion like this ever happened. He had ice cream rockets at the ready. He launched the rockets, but just then, he saw the

whoomans

eating

his

mother!

French

Fry became very, very upset and triggered. He screamed,

“MOTHER!

How could you?!”

Just then, the ice

cream rockets landed on the whoomans’ ship. “Is that all you’ve got?” the whoomans said.

French Fry said, “I’m mad!” He began to punch the

whoomans’ toes because he was so tiny.

Toastie pulled out his portable toaster and threw a whooman

inside. Inside of the toaster, there was a portal that took the whooman to another dimension.

Meanwhile, Timekeeper called her friend Multiple Unicorn

to come help. When Multiple Unicorn arrived, she began shooting marshmallows at the whoomans. The whoomans began to eat the marshmallows, which were magic and made them disappear.

Then, out of nowhere, Ring the Ring appeared and began

143

spinning so fast he made 20 whoomans disappear. All of a sudden, a

whooman

boss

appeared from the spaceship. He was giant with blue hair. “Fee fi fo fum!” he yelled. “I smell delicious food!” He picked up Timekeeper and put her in his mouth, but then he spit her out because she was not food. Instead, he grabbed Toastie and ate him. He yelled, “I am Breakdown! I’m here to eat everything, because my race is VERY hungry!”

French Fry decided it was time to call more backup . . .

TO BE CONTINUED

144

The Silly Ghost Goes to the Movie Theater First-Grade Class at PS 15 Roberto Clemente WRITTEN DURING A FIELD TRIP

nce upon a time a ghost went to the movie theater. The ghost went to see a scary movie because it loves scary movies.

The ghost bought a hot dog to eat during the movie. When

the ghost was about to eat it, the hot dog screamed, “No! Don’t eat me!” and after a pause, said, “Before you eat me, do you have barbecue sauce?”

The ghost was terrified that the hot dog was able to speak.

The ghost screamed and ran out of the movie theater, yelling, “Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

The ghost ran out into the street. It then became hungry

again. It went back into the movie theater, bought popcorn, and sat down.

The popcorn yelled,

“No! Don’t eat me!”

The

ghost

yelled,

“Ahhhhhh! The popcorn is talking now, too!”

The ghost ran out of

the theater again.

The ghost loved to watch scary movies and eat snacks. It

also loved to scare people out of the movie theater so it could

145

have the entire movie theater to itself. But it had never seen snacks come to life before. The

reason

the

ghost likes to scare people is because it kept losing its toys at the movie theater. It thought that the people at the movie theater had taken its toys.

The popcorn and the hot dog, however, did not like that the

ghost had been scaring people out of the movie theater. They wanted the ghost to not come back to the movie theater.

So one day they saw the ghost coming into the movie the-

ater, and the hot dog said to the popcorn, “We should play a trick on the ghost.”

The popcorn said, “We need to think of an idea.”

Their idea was that the popcorn would dress up like a zom-

bie and the hot dog would dress up like a witch. They used to be friends with the ghost, before it started scaring people out of the theater.

When the ghost was watching a scary movie, it needed to go

to the bathroom. So it got up and it saw a giant monster! The monster was big and rainbow-colored and had one eye, sharp claws, and sharp teeth!

TO BE CONTINUED

146

Chilly’s on a Mission The Chinchilla Group at PS 312 WRITTEN DURING A FIELD TRIP

hilly, a chinchilla, is in Area 51, ready to save the planets from colliding. Chilly is in Area 51 to steal a rocket and blast off to outer space. Time is running out! Chilly only

has until sunset. Chilly kindly asks an alien to lead him to the ships, and they teleport there. Chilly jumps into the first rocket, and hears a beeping. Chilly turns around and notices a C-4 bomb, and

quickly

disarms Chilly to

use

it. plans the

rocket

reflect

the

planets back. In front of Chilly are three buttons: green, red, and yellow. The alien told him to only touch the red and green buttons. Forgetful, Chilly pushes the yellow button. Running into the rocket, Adam, the co-pilot, screams, “What are you doing?”

Chilly says, “I

am on a mission to stop the evil plan of the alien who wants

147

to collide the planets and I am going to use this rocket to stop it.”

The ship starts shaking. “We’re taking off!” Chilly says. As

the shaking gets harder, out from the exhaust comes thousands of chocolate glazed donuts. Chilly yells, “How do we fix this?”

Calmly, Adam says, “Just turn it off and on.” Chilly remem-

bers to push the green button and the rocket starts to rumble. Adam says, “Get ready for take-off, we’re going to space!” Rain begins pouring, and vision is limited. Breaking through into outer space, the rain is no longer. Some water trickles into the rocket, and the pilots notice some malfunctioning.

Chilly asks Adam, “What do we do now?”

Adam responds, “I don’t know.” Panicked, Chilly pushes the

red button. The rocket starts to rumble once again and fall apart. Chilly asks Adam if there are any space suits, so they can go fix the ship. They put on the space suits and head outside to fix the rocket. All of a sudden, a blue portal opens up, and a meteor hits the rocket, sending the two pilots into the portal. The two end up in what looks like New York City. They look around, and it looks like what seems to be Brooklyn, but there are flying cars. The two see a sign that reads, “Area 52.” The two need to find a way to save the planets and jump onto a flying car. They’re out to get some answers!

148

Piglet Pouch and the Evil Chef Class 401 at PS 80Q Thurgood Marshall Magnet WRITTEN DURING A FIELD TRIP

iglet Pouch was a big pig that was half man and half pig. He had superpowers: he could run really fast, throw pig toys and stink bombs out of nowhere, and blow villains away

with pig oinks (which were like sonic booms).

He used his superpowers on a daily basis

to protect himself from the Tricker, who tried to

trick

Piglet

Pouch into going to the Slicer to be cooked.

The Tricker

would try to trick Piglet Pouch by putting vegetables where his superpowers can’t usually reach. The Tricker would try this every day, but it would never work.

One day, Piglet Pouch was at his door when he heard some-

one knock. When he opened the door, no one was there.

I bet someone was just here, thought Piglet Pouch.

He went back into his house to fetch some holy water to

splash on the Tricker. When he came back outside, out of nowhere came a lasso made out of hotdogs that went around him.

Piglet Pouch said, “Haha, very funny, Tricker.”

Piglet Pouch looked around and noticed that the Tricker

wasn’t there.

149

“I’m going to splash you

with holy water, Tricker!”

From the side of the

house appeared not the Tricker, but someone else.

When Piglet Pouch saw

who it was, he knew that it was the Chef himself! Suddenly, Piglet Pouch was very nervous.

The Chef grinned at him like a scary clown.

The Chef was known for cooking pigs of all sizes. He was so

evil. He always carried kitchen knives with him. He was also a robot that could turn into a slicer.

“Holy pigs!” Piglet Pouch

exclaimed.

“I’m bringing you

to the kitchen,” the Chef said.

The Chef carried

Piglet Pouch by his tail all the way to the kitchen

where

planned to slice and cook him. Once he got to the kitchen, Piglet Pouch started to hear the sound of blades whirring.

“Any last words, Piglet Pouch?” the Chef asked.

“You forgot one thing,” Piglet Pouch replied.

TO BE CONTINUED 150

Ella & the Mystery of the Booby Traps Class 233 at PS58 WRITTEN DURING A FIELD TRIP

nce upon a time, there was an orange ladybug called Ella. Ella lived in a watermelon and had fifty children, but kept a secret from them – she was a superhero!

Ella had the power of invisibility that she used to protect those around her. Ella had lived in this watermelon for as long as she could remember. She knew it was large and looked tasty.

Ella found boobytrap seeds all over the watermelon. There

were 10,000 traps! These traps were hard to find because they were the same color as the watermelon. One day, one of Ella’s children wanted to find a way out. This child fell into the trap and was sucked into an unknown place. Ella noticed one of her children gone and could not figure out where he went or how he disappeared. The next day, Ella noticed yet another one of her children was gone. This child fell into the same trap as before, leading her into a dragon’s den. Ella began to worry deeply and was set on finding her children. Ella began her search, but while she was searching, all of her children tried to escape and got trapped

151

in boobytraps all over the watermelon. Ella investigated the boobytraps and noticed some of them had been set off. She saw one leading down a tunnel and heard a growling from within.

She moved forward, and the door behind her shut closed.

Now, the only way to move was forward. Meanwhile, due to all the activated boobytraps, the watermelon began to shake, becoming alive. The watermelon felt the ladybugs inside of it and wanted them out! The watermelon tried to figure out a way inside of itself, but failed. Inside of the watermelon, Ella continued forward, following the footsteps of her children, and reached the dragon’s door. Outside, the watermelon tipped over, causing a melonquake inside the watermelon. Inside the watermelon, the door to the dragon’s den opened and Ella saw all of her children with an evil dragon towering over them. The dragon slapped his tail on the ground, causing the floor to shake, and lifted Ella’s children into the air. The dragon opened its mouth…

TO BE CONTINUED

152

Castle is Mysterious and Hilarious Isaiah Nieves WRITTEN DURING AN IN-SCHOOLS RESIDENCY AT B R O N X L E A D E R S H I P A C A D E M Y I I

astle is a TV show that comes on Sundays at 12 AM on Channel 7. It is a murder-mystery comedy show that takes place in New York City, where someone is killed

each episode, and you have to find out who killed that person. Castle has been running for eight seasons.

Castle is named after the main character, Richard Castle,

who solves murder crimes with his partner, Kate Beckett. The investigators talk to all of the people who witnessed the murder, and by the end of the show they catch the killer and put them in jail.

What keeps me watching Castle is the fact that when one epi-

sode finishes I can continue to the next episode. Richard Castleâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s imagination is hilarious and makes me want to keep watching. Each episode is one hour, and they put on two episodes every Sunday.

I recommend you watch Castle because itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s mysterious and

very funny. If you watch Castle you will crack up.

153

Are You a Weeb? Felicia Perez WRITTEN DURING AN IN-SCHOOLS RESIDENCY AT B R O N X L E A D E R S H I P A C A D E M Y I I

ou want to see if you’re a classified anime weeb or not? Well, here’s where you can see for yourself and find out! First and foremost, a weeb is an anime term, meaning that you’re

obsessed with anime and certain shows, and that you want to get hyped and excited about the show and talk about it on a daily basis.

Anime is currently popular in Japan and there are a whole lot

of weebs there, or new coming weebs, because of the recent anime hit called My Hero Academia and other related shows. There are a lot of our very own weebs here in BLA2HS, but not everyone watches the same shows, or are on the same wavelength as other weebs, but that’s nowhere near a problem. As long as you like the animes you like personally, it’s all right.

If you’re not a complete weeb yet, or aren’t sure if you’re a

weeb still, here are more hints on how to be a weeb: 1. Find anime that interests you such as BL (guy on guy), action, adventure, etc. EX: Naruto, Dragon Ball Z, and The Seven Deadly Sins. 2. Get into the animes you pick, and see if they speak to you. If they don’t, then forget about them – you don’t have to force yourself to watch animes you don’t like.

154

3. Find other weebs to talk with about your interests and see if they have the same interests. If they don’t, then introduce them to it, but don’t force them. If you have friends that are interested in being weebs, then give them your animes as recommendations to watch. 4. And if you want to be surrounded by more weebs, find out about new shows, and get into anime debates and talks, then you can go to Ms. Carwin’s Anime Club, which is every Wednesday in Room 105 from 3:00 PM to 4:00 PM.

In my experience as a two-and-a-half year weeb, I can tell

you that being a weeb is fun, and it gives a lot of like—happy vibes? Yeah, and when I started watching anime, my first show wasn’t the typical show. My first show was going down the BL route. Because of the famous anime Yaoi show Yuri!!! on Ice, I felt myself randomly getting hyped up about guys in tight and very beautiful, decorative outfits, and ice skating. Then I started creating imaginary relationships between the characters, called ships in anime, and trying to see if they come true. My second anime was another sports anime that was also Yaoi, called Free! I learned about it from two YouTubers, and it was about swimming. I had, like, a list of ships I created and wanted to happen, and I got upset if they didn’t come true, XD.

So these were my first shows, instead of the well known

ones like Naruto and Dragon Ball Z. Not all weebs start out the same, and you don’t have to start with well-known animes. I mean, Yuri!!! on Ice or Free! weren’t that popular when I started watching anime, and it’s not that hard to catch up, or keep

155

up, with certain animes. It doesn’t matter if you start very late or very early. I didn’t start Naruto until, like, five seasons after it started, XD. Same with the very new show My Hero Academia, which I started watching in the middle of season three. So I had to re-watch from season one and season two to understand the plot.

So basically, if you’re not convinced about anime yet, I can’t

do anything about that. But if you change your mind about it, then that’s great!

156

Pasta the Meatball Zoe Ross Allen • Age 11 W R I T T E N D U R I N G CO O K I N G U P A S T O R Y, A VIRTUAL WRITING WORKSHOP

asta the meatball strolled down Chocolate Chip Lane. She was daydreaming about her new menu. “Pasta! You have to come see this!” yelled my best friend,

Meatball.

“Why?” I questioned.

“Just come!” she said, pulling me along. The sight I saw was

too unbearable to even imagine. Banana, my arch nemesis, had put up a sign saying, “New Menu! Much Better than Across the Street!” I stormed to “My Food Will Make You Go Bananas” and pushed my way to Banana.

“You copycat! I had the idea first,” I screamed at him.

“It is a free country, darling,” Banana said, smugly. I stormed

out of the restaurant with smoke coming out of my ears.

157

21 Ways to Pretend You’re Not In Quarantine A Class Collaboration W R I T T E N D U R I N G L I STO P I A ! , A V I RT UA L W R I T I N G WO R K S H O P

1. Go into a zoom meeting and put up a virtual background. People will think you’re at the beach! 2. Paint your walls to make it look like you’re outside 3. Tech geek? Project virtual backgrounds onto your walls 4. Take your pet kangaroo on a walk 5. Do TOO much school work 6. Go outside and build a giant house (make sure it’s bigger than your normal house) 7. Sunbathe on your fire escape 8. Pretend you’re in the wild! Put up a tent inside your house, add trees too, but not too big. Those are for your huge next door house 9. Flood your house and pretend you’re swimming in a lake. Don’t flood your huge house next door though

158

10. Watch old sports games and act like theyâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re live 11. Buy a waterfall (for your smaller house) and create an indoor rainy day 12. Build 5-6 androids that can play heavy metal music 13. Flood your big house, buy a tide machine and create a tide pool 14. Buy a bunch of legos and recreate Legoland 15. Build a restaurant 16. Get a moving walkway that changes directions as you walk. Buy 7-8 androids and make them walk on it 17. Make a gym in your large house 18. Seems like both your houses are getting full, so you should build a third house 19. Fill it with stuffed animals 20. Build anti-gravity slides to connect the 3 houses 21. Go to your roof and scream at the top of your lungs until quarantine is over

159

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

he eleventh issue of The 826NYC Review celebrates the work of students from across and beyond New York City who participated in programs at our centers and satellites, in

their schools, and virtually from home. These young authors are incredibly talented, thoughtful, insightful, funny, unique, and empathetic. Many of these students used their voices to write about topics like quarantine, social isolation, discrimination, violence, and pain with care, grace, and sometimes a bit of humor. It is a privilege to be a platform for these gifted and passionate writers and we are grateful they chose to share their work for us.

The publication would not be possible without the

volunteers and staff who dedicated their time and talents curating, editing, and proofreading this collection. We thank our dedicated volunteers who worked together to help select many of these pieces: Allison Singer, Carol Goldberg, Christine Corbin, Christopher Ahearn, Danielle Sinay, Lauren Stefaniak, and Mandy Seiner. After their careful consideration, our copy editors and proofreaders reviewed each student story to make sure their messages were clearly received. Thank you to our editorial team: Caroline Spiezio, Carly Schnitzler, Elise Ingber, Sophia Cannata-Bowman, Chelsea Bonollo, Melanie McFayden, Nathaniel Pinkman, and Mandy Seiner. A huge thank you to Joe Iovino, who created this beautiful book and brought our studentsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; stories to life.

160

In addition to supporting the publication itself, 826NYCâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s

talented and dedicated volunteers and interns worked with our students on their writing over the course of thousands of hours and across all of our programs. For your support, encouragement, and mentorship, we thank you. Without your commitment to our students, nothing we do would be possible.

We want to give a huge thank you to J. Courtney Sullivan

for reading this publication and providing such a thoughtful, inspiring foreword. Your commitment to the craft, as well as to supporting young authors as they develop their voices, is inspiring.

Finally we would like to thank the New York City Department

of Cultural Affairs, the Heckscher Foundation for Children and the Pinkerton Foundation for funding this project. Additional support for this project came from Con Edison, the Morgan Creek Foundation, and the Bay & Paul Foundations. We are grateful for your support.

161

ABOUT 826NYC 826NYC LOCATION AND LEADERSHIP

826NYC and The Brooklyn Superhero Supply Co. 372 Fifth Ave Brooklyn, NY 11215 718.499.9884 www.826nyc.org

162

BOARD OF DIRECTORS Tammy Oler | President Ted Wolff | Vice President Ray Carpenter | Treasurer Michelle McGovern | Secretary Michael Colagiovanni Laurie Malkin Amir Mokari Arjun Nagappan Katie Schwab Danielle Sinay Andrew Sparkler Liza Steinberg Alyson Stone Maura Tierney Thom Unterburger Kathryn Yontef

826NYC PROGRAMS AFTER-SCHOOL TUTORING We offer free tutoring four days per week for students ages six to eighteen. Students work with volunteer tutors in small groups to finish homework assignments, complete independent writing projects, and to read independently, in pairs or in groups. We serve students of all skill levels and interests and work with parents and teachers to create independent learning objectives and support plans for struggling students.

163

WEEKEND WORKSHOPS We offer writing-based workshops that provide in-depth instruction in a variety of subjects that schools often cannot include in their curricula. These workshops cover topics such as college entrance essays, comic bookâ&#x20AC;&#x201C;making, creative writing, journalism, poetry, and filmmaking. All workshops are taught by teaching artists and are limited in size to ensure that students receive plenty of individual attention.

IN-SCHOOL SUPPORT FOR TEACHERS The strength of our volunteer base allows us to provide in-school support to work with students in New York City classrooms. We recognize that large class sizes make it increasingly difficult for teachers to provide individualized feedback and guidance on research and writing. We send volunteers to the classroom to assist teachers with providing this essential one-on-one support.

HOSTED FIELD TRIPS 826NYC welcomes classes from public schools for mornings of high-energy storytelling activities. Our most popular field trip is our Storytelling and Bookmaking project, in which elementary school students write, illustrate, publish, and bind their own books in a two-hour session. At the conclusion of this trip, each student leaves with his or her own copy of the book and a newfound excitement for writing. Our other field trips cover topics such as memoir writing, screenwriting, and more.

164

VIRTUAL PROGRAMS In response to the COVID-19 pandemic, and to promote social distancing for the safety of 826NYC students, staff, and volunteers, we started virtual programs that serve students in and outside of New York City. These programs include virtual writing workshops where young people explore a variety of genres together and quaranTEEN voices, a weekly gathering where students can share their writing and questions with a guest author.

STUDENT PUBLICATIONS Through our writing workshops and after-school tutoring program, our volunteers work with students to help them create stories, poems, and â&#x20AC;&#x2122;zines. Because we believe that the quality of studentsâ&#x20AC;&#x2122; work is greatly enhanced when they are given the chance to share it with an authentic audience, we are committed to publishing student works. By encouraging their work and by guiding them through the process of publication, we make abundantly clear that their ideas are valued.

165