OLP Literary Magazine 2024: Up in the Air

Letter from the Moderator

Mrs. MacManus ‘01

Dear Readers,

Welcome to the 10th edition of Up in the Air, where we're taking our imaginations to the stars with this year's theme: Constellations! While brainstorming theme ideas, the Leadership Team contemplated the night sky, speckled with stars, each one telling a story and connecting us in ways we might not even realize. As you flip through the pages of the magazine, you'll encounter recurring themes such as nature, family, friendships, and spirituality. I urge you to look deeper into these themes, to uncover the common threads that weave through our talented students' expressions. Just like studying a constellation, what may initially appear as a scattering of stars reveals intricate patterns upon closer inspection.

Staying true to Up in the Air history, this year’s Leadership Team demonstrated an unwavering passion for showcasing the talents within our OLP community. While they may have been small, their dedication was mighty! From the hard work of the Publicity and Competition crew in gathering submissions, to the meticulous efforts of our Editors in proofreading and arranging each piece with seamless cohesion. And let's not overlook the contributions of the Layout team, who ensured that every aspect of the magazine looked amazing, from cover to back page.

As you journey through the magazine, I hope you feel the same sense of wonder and joy that we did while putting it all together. Get ready to be starstruck by the incredible talent on display and the love and care poured into every inch of this magazine.

Enjoy!

Mrs. Siobhan MacManus

Letter from the Editor-in-Chief

Aiyanna Johnson ‘24

This year's theme for the school’s Literary Magazine, Up In The Air was chosen with the consideration of all the things that guide us. The theme of Constellations tells a story in itself, as constellations are the stars we look to for guidance, each with their own stories. Similarly, we applied this message to the competition theme in asking students what those same stars mean to them, and how these unchanging lights guide us through the darkness.

As you explore the vibrant expressions of life submitted by the student body, you may notice that the pages occur in a gradient, with the shades ranging from light to dark. We did this with the intention of mimicking a sunrise or a sunset, both a testament to the experience at the Academy of Our Lady of Peace. Each day we are welcomed by a sunrise, always unique and colorful, and given a farewell by a sunset, which leaves us with a night sky decorated by stars. In choosing and planning the theme for our 10th edition of the magazine, marking a decade of creativity and expression from our students, I was very intentional with also highlighting the events that bring us to seeing these constellations, and also welcome us into a new day.

The experience at the Academy of Our Lady of Peace has been like these natural paintings, colorful, unique, and most significant of all, different from every place that you view it from. For whoever is taking the time to look through this magazine, I want you to remember how the sun welcomes you and dismisses you, as that moment is something unique, and will provide you with a sight you can never see again. I also ask you to apply this same mindset when exploring our creation, as every member of each team was welcomed into this project with unique expectations, and finished with a unique resulting that was unpredictable, but still beautiful nonetheless.

I would like to give a special thanks to each and every member of this project, from the team to the contributors, and you, the reader. We hope that you are able to recognize the authenticity of our work, and can feel the love that we put into it, a love that can only be found at Our Lady of Peace.

Thank you,

Aiyanna Johnson

Meet the Team

Editor in Chief

Aiyanna Johnson ‘24

Editor Staff

Lead Editor: Claire Scelfo ‘24

Inanna Arsova-Klejnot ‘26

Isabella Bayona ‘25

Savannah Flores ‘25

Ereny Tanious ‘24

Layout & Design Staff

Lead Designer: Hayley Smith ‘26

Inanna Arsova-Klejnot ‘26

Mary Lund ‘26

Ixchel Roman Medina ‘27

Noah Santos ‘24

Publicity & Competition Staff

Lead Publicist: Jordan Straub ‘25

Abby Lis ‘25

Noah Santos ‘24

Olivia Shull ‘24

Covers Designed by Hayley Smith ‘26

Table of Contents

Student Submissions

Ventura Jordan Straub ‘25

Driving

Maggie Brunton ‘24

Something in driving home late at night after an empty room we danced together and coffee shared on the street paved with colors, laughing in the headlights – streetlights – moonlight – all around. She glows, eyes bright, Cozy heat in the late autumn cold We are driving to the end of our time

Trickling away, slowly. I am leaving Leaving before her, wandering, Searching for something. Finding, I hope, But losing –

Come with me – away from your world –To beginnings!

I leave her on the steps, watch her close the door

Gently. Our paths diverge For now. Find me,

Someday. When I come back, Before you go, let’s Meet under the streetlights

Cobbled stones and moonlight –I’ll drive you home

i took the 405

Linda Dominguez ‘25

to my best friend

Jordan Straub ‘25

i don't think i quite know what i would do without you, your silly jokes, your awful music, your yolo attitude, your ridiculous mini fan, your stupid ocean sounds, your bedroom with no connection, your sore loser ‘let’s play again,’ your focused ‘don’t talk to me’ face, your awesome hair, your driving that nearly gives me a heart attack, your hopefulness, your generosity, your ability to cheer me up at all times, your hair-up-ready-to-eat look, and your gift-giving skills that i can never live up to.

even with all our reality tv moments, antagonizing talk, and outrageous insults, i wouldn’t choose anyone else in the world to go through it all with. i see you in every beautiful sunset, every stray cat, every white volkswagen, every muckbang video, every cool pair of shoes, every piece of silver jewelry, and i think of you anytime someone mentions new years eve, february, hawaii, tanning, handwritten cards, and best friends. thank you for showing me the meaning of honesty, love, and above all, friendship. let’s keep making more memories to last a lifetime.

- i can’t wait to tell my kids all our favorite stories about their mom and aunt

Homemade Pandesal

Isabella Bayona ‘25

giggle moment

Linda Dominguez ‘25

Matcha Date with Bella and Kate

Isabella

Bayona ‘25

2025 for life

Jordan Straub ‘25

Sister Selfie

Emily Ruta ‘24

peace out

Linda Dominguez ‘25

alex in my shades

Jordan Straub ‘25

Loyal Companion

Brooklyn Chouinard ‘27

Linda Dominguez ‘25

Olivia Shull ‘24

Savanna

Emily Ruta ‘24

Child’s Play

Inanna Arsova-Klejnot ‘26

I remember my childhood clearly learning, laughing, existing (outside the walls of social expectation), unabashed, happy, carefree, curious, inquisitive, creative, genuine, pure I did not know of judgment.

Nor of the evil in the world.

Anxiety was a stranger I hadn’t yet crossed paths with, the feeling of shame was never directed at my own self-worth.

Now I watch as children grow up in an age of growing up too fast. Where everyone is obsessed with the next, when they should be cherishing the now instead. I cry for my 10-year-old cousin, as she gets gel manicures, wears crop tops, chokers, and oversized jeans (whatever’s trending).

Cries about her hair, Says it isn't fair, Why doesn't she have curls? Or strands that are fair? (Whatever’s trending).

When I ask her, “Why?”

She says because of her friends. . . And they’re the cool ones. Since cool is being: unoriginal, uniform, and cruel. I hear her voice as she laughs,

unknowingly fueling the epidemic of lost childhood.

It isn’t her fault. How is she to blame when she doesn’t even understand? Cannot possibly understand. . .

Why childhood became 20-step skincare routines, sustainable makeup, fast fashion clothes, brand names and mind games, fitting in, no unique creativity, instead unoriginal sterility. How did age become the new youth?

As someone who is no longer a child, I wish I could be carefree again and not feel judged. . .

So don’t rush, don’t jump ahead, don’t waste your time wanting what you do not have.

Don’t let them win. Take back your childhood. Take back your freedom.

Because, you never truly appreciate that which you have until it’s gone forever. After all, I now know that I’ll never feel as free as I did when I was a child.

Now that I have experienced judgment, Know of evil, have become close friends with anxiety, now that hate has become an ever-present shadow, nipping at my heels when I least expect.

Now that I am no longer a child, I can say with the usually ever-elusive — confidence —

That, in comparison to this adult’s game, I much preferred child’s play.

dad being me!

Jordan Straub ‘25

When Trees Cry

Inanna Arsova-Klejnot ‘26

There once were six trillion trees. There once were six trillion trees; only half remain. And now there is a girl, a girl who dreams of saving the trees.

She is a maverick of conformity.

A paradox of uncertainty, who carries the weight of the world in the form of a rainless cloud. Humans look at her in perplexed awe. She is so outwardly ordinary, yet inwardly impossible to understand; a maven of silent divergence.

Yet, when the trees are all gone, thanks to humanity’s obsession with shortcuts, she will be there to plant more trees, saving the planet from decay with fresh supplies of oxygen.

She muses:

“Why, why are we killing that which gives us life?”

It is hard to understand why we make trees cry, yet to know we only have to look at when we turned away from nature within us and embraced civilization instead.

In twelve thousand years we removed 46 percent of the world’s forest cover. Now, we kill 15 billion trees per year (at that rate there will be no trees left in only 200 years). . .

Yet, if every major company in the world pledged just one percent to reforestation, we would have restored that which we destroyed over twelve thousand years, in just a few decades.

So. . .

Why, why do we continue killing that which gives us life?

The answer is entangled with the fact that. . .

There once were six trillion trees.

There once were six trillion trees; only half remain.

And now there is a girl, a girl who won the lottery and bought the Amazon Rainforest.

She will save the trees because they do not judge.

After all, she knows that the Sun shines too brightly, that the oceans rise too high, that all life gasps for breath in desperation, when trees cry.

Color Comes Forth

Olivia Shull ‘24

Laraina Spaulding ‘27

Pink Delight

Shaikhvand‘24

Collette

Zoey Gutierrez ‘26

Bloom

Olivia Shull ‘24

Flower Bloom

Valeria Lopez-Hodoyan ‘25

Purple Water

Melina Hernández Gomez ‘27

Blossom of the Flower

Daniela Labrada ‘25

Fire Roses

Daniela Rodgers‘24

Maeve Wagner-Casey ‘26

Where the Mountains Meet the Sea

Maeve Wagner-Casey ‘26

A Room in the Middle

Inanna Arsova-Klejnot ‘26

They say that there are two kinds of people in life (generally):

Those that participate and those that don’t. . .

Those that are extroverted and those that are introverted; Those that are loud and those that are quiet.

But I’d like to add a third kind;

Those that listen, and watch, observing as others either live life in the sun, careless, or keep to the shadows, afraid.

But we neither wish to touch the sun nor hide in the shadows; we wish to walk among the stars.

And for this reason we are inadvertently pushed to the sidelines, constantly brushed away, cast aside, left flailing in the murk of moonlight, While others laugh too loudly in the sun Or stay too silent in the shadows.

Because we are both, we have been forced to act as neither. . . And it is not fair; there is room for all.

At least, there should be room for all. Nevertheless, it is common to feel the need to ask, Is there (even) room in the middle?

For,

It is hard to be in the middle, So incredibly difficult. . .

Because people will either try to push you to one extreme or the other; Either extrovert or introvert, Loud or quiet. It is always one or the other. Yet for us, it is never one or the other.

For,

We can be loud and quiet, We can be extroverted and introverted, We can walk in the sun with shadows whispering at our backs, as we reach for the stars. We are not one or the other; We are both, We are all, We are in the middle,

And there is always room in the middle.

More Christmas in Rockefeller (Clock)

Isabella Bayona '25

On Pointe

Emily Ruta '24

her sun bum

Linda Dominguez ‘25

cat land bathroom

Linda Dominguez ‘25

busy works

Linda Dominguez ‘25

Watercolor Sorbet

Audrey O’Neal ‘24

The Art in Cooking

Anna Spencer ‘26

You looking at me

Laraina Spaulding ‘27

Koi Pond

Luciana Dunn ‘25

The Bees Knees

Maeve Wagner-Casey ‘26

Little Red Riding Hood series

Ms. Tiegs’ Art II Illustration Project

Students were given techniques and guided to explore various art materials while they considered how the way that characters are visually depicted influences the way people will interpret a story. They were also invited to either honor tradition, or upend stereotypes while creating illustrations for Little Red Riding Hood. Was the wolf a terror or a sweet pup keeping watch of a little girl alone in the woods? Classically, Red Riding Hood has been portrayed as innocent, was she also clever, or even mischievous as the wolf? Our bold art student adventurers even took wild creative risks, causing the wolf to somehow sink the Titanic! With a few art tips and tricks combined with the inventive power of OLP students’ fantastic imaginations, truly anything is possible!

Little Red Riding Hood

Kate Cassie ‘25

Little Red Riding Hood

Romina Sierra ‘24

Little Red Riding Hood

Emily Ruta ‘24

Little Red Riding Hood

McKenna Croom ‘27

Little Red Riding Hood

Jeovanna Esquer ‘26

Little Red Riding Hood

Nicole Espinoza ‘26

Little Red Riding Hood

Sofia Sisitki ‘27

Little Red Riding Hood

Annie Hammes ‘24

Little Red Riding Hood

Romina Tellez ‘27

Little Red Riding Hood

Giulietta Luongo ‘27

Little Red Riding Hood

Helena He ‘27

Little Red Riding Hood

Natalie Rodriguez ‘26

Little Red Riding Hood

Alice Carter ‘27

Little Red Riding Hood

Ashley Lindsey ‘27

Little Red Riding Hood

Monica Pulido ‘27

Little Red Riding Hood

Natalie Soria ‘26

Little Red Riding Hood

Charlotte Berardino ‘26

POV: The Wolf

Mrs. MacManus

It was a long, relentless winter that year. The snow had just begun to thaw and newly sprouted grass began to draw the deer out to eat. I scoured, keeping low to the ground and my senses keen. With the changing seasons, more hunters had been stalking about, encroaching on my forest territory.

One particular evening, as I searched for my next meal, I heard an unmistakably human humming. Petrified, I hid in some brush and watched as a small figure covered in red skipped along, carrying a basket. The fragrance of her goods taunted my empty stomach. As she pranced down the path, I saw something fall from her basket. In a moment of weakness, I pounced on the food. The human gasped and leaped off the path. When I finished, I blurted, “Pardon me! Please don’t shoot! I am harmless and apologize if I frightened you!” Upon closer inspection, I realized the human was a young girl, not a hunter. She seemed less menacing. “Oh my! You can speak!” She exclaimed. I was a bit offended by her assumption that I was mute, but we began chatting and I joined her along the path.

“I’m heading to my Grandmother’s cottage. She’s expecting me, and I’m bringing biscuits and berries to accompany the beef stew,” she said.

The idea of beef stew made me weak. “My dear, you must be quite excited for such a feast.”

“Oh no”, she replied. “I’m a bit full. I’m just going to keep Gran company.”

A gasp escaped my lips. The notion of turning down fresh meat was unfathomable. Reading my reaction, the girl said, “I’m sure we can spare an extra bowl if you like! Gran won’t mind once I tell her we’ve become fast friends!” A pep soon entered my step and I said, “Hop on my back! I will carry you the rest of the way!” We jaunted along as she sang songs that pleased my ears.

My senses picked up on the roasted meat and simmering stew before we even reached the cottage. “There it is!” The girl proclaimed. We approached a quaint cottage with billowing smoke escaping from the chimney. The girl knocked on the door, and then pushed it open.

“Gran? I’m here! And I’ve brought a friend I met in the forest!”

The grandmother’s eyes were clouded with age. “Hello dear! Come closer to the stove and I’ll fix you some dinner!” I feared her reaction upon meeting me, but her vision was so poor that she didn’t even notice I was a wolf. I ate heaps of stew while the girl chattered on about picking flowers and climbing trees. Once my belly was full, I thanked them profusely and bid them farewell.

As I sauntered onto the main path, my ears perked up at a rustle in the brush. I dashed into the woods, cursing myself for letting my guard down. I heard the footsteps of my most feared enemy- the hunter.

In my frantic state, I backtracked toward the old lady’s cottage. In desperation, I snuck into the back window, hoping to find sanctuary from the hunter. As I leaped through the window, a gunshot ricocheted off of the cottage wall. I yelped in fear and cried, “Help! I’m being chased!” The grandmother and girl shrieked and peered out the window to see several men approaching. They hastily disguised me in Gran’s clothes, hoping the hunters would mistaken me for one of their own.

A strong knock at the door sent the hairs up on my mangy back. Through muffled voices, I heard the men shouting, “A wolf is in your house!” Lots of frenzied yelling ensued, and then the men burst through the door. In the nick of time, I jumped out of bed and escaped right passed them. They were frozen in fear and confusion as I bounded out into the forest.

Surprisingly enough, my little mishap would become one of the most famous stories in human folklore. For years I’ve heard renditions that would send shivers down one’s spine! The ghoulish things humans come up with. I often chuckle over them as I stroll through the woods with my friend wearing her red cloak.

Little Red Riding Hood

Grayce Karijanian ‘27

The Light

Moira Thorne ‘27

Each person that passes

Leaves their ashes

In the ground

But their soul is found

Shining bright

Looking down

The moon watches over you

Guards you at night

And awaits the day

That you join her

One day you too must settle in the sky

To watch over the lives of others

One night the moon will place a star in the sky

To mark the day you die

Making the galaxy shine a little more bright

Burn

Melina Hernández Gomez ‘27

Christmas in Rockefeller (tree)

Isabella Bayona ‘25

A Night in Verona

Camila Moreno-Magoni ‘24

Carondelet

Melahni Owens ‘24

Guardian Dear

Emily Ruta ‘24

Chalice

Mila Leandro ‘25

Red River

Bethany Isabella McDonald ‘26

Since birth, it has existed. These rivers have always flowed.

Today, they are as barren as a desert. These stories, these hopes.

The laughter and sorrows.

All of this is effacing.

The sky will turn black when the final flower falls. When the last one loses hope. Keep these histories safe.

Don’t ever change these beautiful waters.

Sing to the heavens for peace.

Rejoice!

Breathe the air!

Sing:

“!

!

Flow once more!

Save every tradition from every culture!

Bloom once more!

!

!

*Adom Nahar ← Red River (םודא רהנ!)*

Our King

Alessandra Tessada ‘27

Accessorizing

Anissa Thompson ‘25

Echantress Ring

Samantha Hernandez ‘26

Silver

Elizabeth Lewis ‘26

Competition

Students were invited to artistically depict or write about the concept of Constellations, which is the Literary Magazine theme for 2024. The art and writing prompts were: Contrast between positive and negative experiences. Explore the light versus the dark. Stars as constellations. Connections between the stars in your life. Who do you look up to like stars in the night sky?

The competition consists of two separate categories; one for art pieces and one for written works. The submissions are blindly judged according to a rubric that assesses creativity, thematic connections, grammar, and more.

Princess of Wales

Gwen Garcia ‘27

Winner of Art Category

A New Dawn And A Refined Night

Bethany Isabella McDonald ‘26

1st place winner of Writing Category

It all started when they told me to fall. That is when the wretched shadow began. Daytime was never bright for me anyway; It was the night that became my sun. The quietness of it all Never frightened me; Instead, it was welcoming and warm, Like a heater on a cold winter’s night. Oh, how I cherished these moments, These sweet, sweet moments of the night.

I danced, I sang, I wept, and then remembered: What is really the light?

And what is really the darkness? When my shadow caved in, Others in what I perceived as my darkness were my light. So now,

Nothing can be just immoral nor righteous; It is what comes in between.

The sky can be illuminated and someone or something would be wrong. The night can be pitch black and it would feel so bright. It is all perceived in the eye of the living being.

I’ve opened my eyes.

I’ve restored my fire.

And the bright sky I once called my demise Is now as equal as the starry night sky.

Maze Runner

Grace White ‘27

2nd place winner of Writing Category

Walking in the dark, feeling the icy air around my neck,

Like an angel guiding through hell

Hearing whispers in the wind, Against the night sky, the wolves yell

Hearing love disappear like ashes falling in the snow.

Every day, I’m running in the dark, trying to escape.

The walls inch closer and closer with every step I take.

My soul seems to fade into the walls.

Labor each breath no matter the move I make.

Every time I make one wrong move,

New walls build-up

New friends come.

The heavy vined walls forebode trouble

But as soon as I reject them,

The vines disappear like a floating bubble.

I’m running in circles.

Trying to outsmart my fright

Trying to find the finish line

Trying to find the light,

I’m scared to look up, but scared to look down.

I can’t seem to find the in-between.

I’m hearing whispers, but blow them away.

Before me, a deathly scene

My own failure creates a darkness around me.

There is a voice in my head telling me to look up. Instead, I close my cautious eyes. Afraid of success, I am comfortable with blind sighs.

In my mind, I see the dark, but the angel beside me sees the constellations. The stars that have always been there before me

Instead of a lone star, I am part of a constellation

I’m trying to survive these shadows. The shadows that haunt me from my past

How long will this last

So I try to look upwards.

I try to find my light.

The love that made me laugh

The love makes my star shine bright

Whispers echo to open my eyes.

To reopen my book

To be the author of my story

Upon my life

I take a second look

I stop running, running from my fears. I pray to see a beautiful butterfly landing on a flower. And from my eyes, remove the tears

Instead, I see walls crumble to the ground. With every step I take, a new life builds.

The sun is waking from its bed.

Flowers and trees lift me in the night sky. Beautiful music from which my soul is fed

I can finally see the light smiling at me. I see myself through the golden mirror. I feel the cold, fresh air breeze pass my ears. My own accomplishments are becoming clearer

I used to be a shadow in the dark. But now I have constellations of stars, loving for who I am. I have joined the stars that understand I know I could reach my flying lark

I sit with my friends in the sky. Staring down and seeing the love that has brought me up here I’ve become a stronger wolf because their love has always been there I’m a free star that dances in the night.

Now I’m chosen to guide the spirit that glides into the dark, who is lost in there. I whisper in the spirit's ear. The runner fears the past. It was like me, scared to see the stars dance.

I have hope for their future. Right now, I want to bring light to their hearts. I want them to see the sun.

“Open your eyes and join the fun”

They used to be lions roaring to their sons. They used to stand up and help others. Not welcoming the love is wrong Now she needs to find herself.

I cry and whisper.

All you need is a lift.

All you need is a warm hug.

Your life is a gift

So reach as far as you can, love is near There are so many who hold you dear.

The women of my life

Ixchel Roman Medina ‘27

Writing competition submission

The vivid night sky reminds me of her

I look up and see her

Bright and ethereal

The huntress constellation says hi to me every night

She smiles and points her bow

I don't know what she hunts

But, she haunts me every night

I know she was someone powerful once

Someone important

Even if no one pays too much attention to her I do

Every night I talk to her

Every night I admire her

Confident, smart, kind, and courageous

She reminds me of the women in my life

My friends, whose laugh makes my life dazzling

My mom, whose spirit and love motivate me to continue

Of all those women that are or were powerful and majestic, just like her

She is them for me

A brilliant and touching piece of art to admire

Faculty and Staff Submissions

Penguin

Ms. Kufa

Ken and Mia LaFray

Coach T

Clay Pots with Jeans

Coach T

Ezra LaFray

Coach T

Alli LaFray

Coach T

Student Submissions

The Inescapable Future

Brooklyn Chouinard ‘27

We were all connected. Somehow we were. But then everyone started to leave. Everyone went to different places, did different things. And so did I. I was happy. But then the doubt crept into my brain like a darkness. Covering each part of it until my entire being was consumed with questions. What happened to the kids who loved video games and Youtube videos? What happened to the Friday afternoons we all spent together talking about the most inconsequential things? And the more I thought about that, the worse it felt. Not because we inevitably grew apart, but because we never finished the journey we started. With the end of my childhood, the end of my friendships came too. The girl I called my best friend lost herself in the world of modern times. But how can I complain when I give in to the allure of the world? The freedom I had, we had, dissipated like an ice cream cone on a hot summer day. And while I watched the ice cream melt I realized that I never truly lost them. I lost myself in my illusions. They will always be a part of my story. They are the people who built me up. They are the people who stood by my side through the constant mistakes. These are my people. And it's not just them. I found other people that appreciate me like they did. Some days I hope that they find good people too. But then I realize that they are the desert kids. And then I feel better. Because that's what made us similar. We lived in a small, boring town, but we found fun. We lived in a dusty, dirty place, but we found each other. In the desert, or at the beach I am with these people. Connected by an invisible thread, floating in the oblivion of the dark night holding our breath, counting the stars.

Sunrise Glisten

Madeline Manriquez ‘24