The Prospector 2020-2021 by Belmont Hill School

2020-2021 The

Prospector

TABLE OF CONTENTS STORIES

“True Grit” Stays True To the Book……………….Luke Trevisan/Form III………………………………..………..pg. 7 Spiderman at NYU (Screenplay)……………………Justin Santana/Form VI…………………………………………..pg. 9 Frozen Fish…………………………………………………Alex Behn/Form III………………………………………………..pg. 15 “True Grit” is Truly Gripping…………………………Jake Kornmehl/Form III…………………………………………pg. 17 The Boots of a Hiker…………………………………….Vince Mezzanotte/Form II………………………………………pg. 19 Butchered……………………………………………………Jake Kornmehl/Form III……………………………………….…pg. 21 Allie’s Gloves………………………………………………..Anonymous/Form III……………………………………………..pg. 27 In Your Shoes………………………………………………Wesley Zhu/Form II……………………………………………….pg. 29 At Home……………………………………………………..Chad Sidel/Form II………………………………………………..pg. 31 Does It Take True Grit?”..…………………………….Duncan Kilbride/Form III……………………………………….pg. 32

SCULPTURE

Wooden Box……………………………………………….Will Marra/Form IV…………………………………………………pg. 5 Soda Cans…………………………………………………..Cord Vallis/Form III………………………………………………..pg. 6 Wooden Spoon and Fork………………………………Scott Black/Form III…………………………………………….…pg. 6 Superman Clock…………………………………………..Kevin Weldon/Form III……………………………………………pg. 6 Geometric Clock………………………………………….Alex Schmidek/Form III………………………………………..…pg. 6 Forest Clock………………………………………………..Will Stewart/Form III………………………………………………pg. 6 Fish Clock…………………………………………………..Ceiba Wild/Form III………………………………………………..pg. 16

POEMS

Wonderful Weather…………………………………….Ta’Qaire Bell/Form I………………………………………………..pg. 11 Wonderful Winter……………………………………….Thomas Danahy/Form I……………………………………….…….pg. 13 Break of Day (Excerpt)………………………………..Samuel Flood/Form I……………………………………………….pg. 20

HAIKU

E Pluribus Unum……………………………………….Anonymous/Form III……………………………………………….…pg. 4 Winter Solitude………………………………………….Anonymous/Form III……………………………………………….…pg. 5 Nature of the Wild………………………………………Connor Mackey/Form III……………………………………………pg. 12 Mattie’s Father Dies……………………………………Sean Horkan/Form III……………………………………………..…pg. 12 Loud Crack of the Bat………………………………..Matthew Flaherty/Form III………………………………………….pg. 12 Poetry is Hard……………………………………………Kevin Weldon/Form III…………………………………………….…pg. 12 The Sky is So Blue……………………………………..Anonymous/Form III……………………………………………….….pg. 12

PHOTOPGRAPHS

Air Force Memorial, Capitol, Snowy Day……..Jake Kornmehl/Form III………………………….………….cover, 4, 13 Light Show and Tonka Takeover…………………Cole Sparks/Form III…………………………………….……..pgs. 14, 30 Boston Public Garden………………………………..Abe Tolkoﬀ/Form VI.………………………………………………….pg. 20

Editor’s Note: J.D Salinger wrote, “What really knocks me out is a book that, when you're all done reading it, you wish the author that wrote it was a terrific friend of yours and you could call him up on the phone whenever you felt like it.” In this issue of The Prospector, several Form III students are inspired to imagine a conversation with Salinger’s Holden Caulfield, and many envision their interactions with him on the Belmont Hill campus. Other Form III students portray their thoughts on the world in reflective haikus. Mr. Doar provided his Form II students with images of shoes including rain boots, hiking boots, and at-home slippers, and they were creatively encouraged to write prose echoing experiences of the past. We feature select student art with various photographs and colorful ceramic sculptures that encompasses Belmont Hill’s vast Arts curriculum. I would like to thank our school’s English and Arts faculty who assisted in the creation of the 2020-2021 Prospector including our advisor, Mr. Leonardis, and all the teachers who supported us: Mr. Doar, Ms. Hamilton, Ms. Kaplan, Ms. McDonald, and Dr. Tift. -Jake A. Kornmehl '24

E pluribus unum From many is one Our country is divided From many is one Anonymous/Form III

Jake Kornmehl/Form III

Winter solitude In a world of one color The look of white Anonymous Form III

Wooden Box Will Marra, Form IV 5

S F Clockwise: Soda Cans- Cord Vallis, Form III; Superman- Kevin Weldon, Form III; Forest Clock - Will Stewart, Form III; Geometric Clock- Alex Schmidek, Form III; Fork and SpoonScott Black, Form III

“True Grit” Stays True To the Book Luke Trevisan/Form III The dream of a classic, Western American chase down has crossed the mind of every adventurous child:

the hero clinging to a horse, galloping at full speed, all while twirling a lasso to catch the runaway bandit. This is what Mattie Ross has to face in the newest film of the book True Grit, directed by the Coen brothers and written by Charles Portis. The movie tells the tale of a young girl who hires a U.S. marshal to help her track down the killer of her father and bring him to justice. With gunfights, moral perseverance, and vengeance, “True Grit” stays true to the original 1968 book while keeping all the advantages of modern cinematography. The movie is narrated by an older Mattie Ross (Ruth Morris) who recalls the tale of when she went to avenge her father. The young girl (Hailee Steinfeld) ventures into the town of Fort Smith after hearing that her father, a Civil War veteran, has been killed by a man known as Tom Chaney (Josh Brolin). With a frail mother and two younger siblings, 14-year-old Ross must take the reins and seek compensation for her father’s death. After committing herself to the apprehension of Chaney, Ross enlists the help of Rooster Cogburn (Jeff Bridges), a gruff, U.S. marshal and a cocky, Texas Ranger known as LaBoeuf (Matt Damon). Together, the trio rides out into the lawless Indian territory in pursuit of the killer. In her breakout role, Hailee Steinfeld, now known for other appearances, such as in “BumbleBee” and “Dickinson”, does an admirable job portraying Mattie Ross. She is a skilled actor for such a young age and therefore able to convey Mattie’s stubbornness and seriousness towards others. Her actions also illustrate Mattie’s propriety and her calculated style. Similarly, Jeff Bridges succeeded in his role with Rooster Cogburn, bringing the irritable marshal to the big screen. His surly voice and stature fit well with the character but still can show his kind side when it is called for. Matt Damon sells his part as the overconfident Labeouf and his mustache really brings it all together. Josh Brolin, now known for his role as Thanos, in the Avengers franchise, suits Tom Chaney, but in my opinion, could have dialed down the scruff factor. Overall, I think that the movie was exceptional. It is almost a cut and paste of the book, using the same characters, settings, plots, and even some dialogue, which helped to highlight Portis’s writing skills. The movie itself fits in the era of the Wild West, with chaotic shootouts and galloping horses. The filming took place in Texas and New Mexico, not far off from the original setting of Arkansas, and the rolling hills coupled with prickly bushes felt real to the story. The costume designing, as well as makeup, allowed for the characters to pop 7

out from their scenes, such as their dark clothes against the light dirt. They also gave an accurate depiction of the era, with unnecessarily unwieldy clothes and a bland palette of blacks, whites and greys, and many shades of browns. The camera quality and cinematography tie everything together, with action-packed close-ups, sentimental pan-outs, and momentous still-shots. Two things I didn’t like, however, were the transitional montages and the soundtrack. The montages are distracting and redundant, with a myriad of quick shots that were all similar and were blended with blurry, dissolving transitions. The music was startling and unpleasant and did not integrate well with the visuals. In the book True Grit, Portis focuses on the theme of Mattie’s evolution and her coming of age. At the beginning of the book, she is stubborn and naive, but at the end, she shows care for Rooster and Laboeuf. In the movie adaptation, the Coen brothers relayed this idea and added to it by doing the final scene in front of Rooster’s grave and ending the movie with Mattie walking away. This final scene It shows how Mattie changed from hiring Rooster for a job and starting on bad terms with LaBoeuf and ended with her caring for Rooster, as he saved her life, and pondering LaBoeuf’s whereabouts. All in all, I think the movie and the book share similar themes and both convey them well. The movie has an MPAA rating of PG-13, which I think suits it, as there is blood and alcohol. These scenes can get quite gruesome, with fingers being chopped oﬀ, public hangings, and audible bone-crunching, but if one is not particularly squeamish, they can be overlooked. I would not recommend this movie to any younger families, but think that a family with older children may find it appealing to all members of the group. This movie also has won many awards and has excellent ratings, so if it suits your maturity level, I would recommend it. Rating: 91%

Spiderman at NYU Justin Santana/Form VI Characters: Kim: underclassman at NYU with a strong will and sense of justice Mike: underclassman at NYU who’s father is a cop Peter Parker: underclassman at NYU who is Spider-Man Setting: Lunchroom after Organic Chemistry Class All three characters sit down at a table Mike: This orgo class is killing me guys. Kim: Look, Mike, Peter and I have oﬀered to help you out but you keep on declining. Peter: We are still down to help you if you want. Mike: Nah, I’ll grit through it like you did in that english seminar Peter. Peter: That was hardly gritting it out. The professor just didn’t click with me. Kim: Oﬀ topic, but did you see the headline in today’s paper? “Spider-Man saves three from a burning building”. Mike: What about it? Kim: What do you mean what about it? Mike: I don’t know it just seems like he gets a lot of credit for things that others do as well. Peter: I think that Spider-MaKim: What things does Spider-Man do that gets too much credit? Mike: Let’s just use this most recent example: he saved three people from a burning building. Why don’t firefighters get the same recognition as him? Firefighters were doing way more before he came swinging into town. Peter: Hey guys, why don’t weKim: Both the firefighters and Spider-Man are working together to save people. I still don’t really understand your point. Mike: What about the fact that he doesn’t want to show his face or reveal his intentions? 9

Peter: I don’t think that’s really important. Mike: My dad, and everyone else at NYPD is trying to identify this spider-guy. Their lives are on the line at all times because we don’t know what he’s really about. Kim: I think you’re missing the point. Spider-Man is saving lives while risking his own life. Why would someone with bad intentions do that? Mike: To trick us. To get us to show our weak point so he can strike it. We can’t be sure unless he reveals who he is to the public. Peter: Or he could just be a good guy. If I were in his shoes, shooting webs, wearing a badass suit, and stopping crime, I think I would want to keep my personal information secret. Mike: Why? Peter: You know, in case someone tries to attack that information or something. Kim: I think Peter is right. For all we know Spider-Man could be in this very dining hall: we wouldn’t want this huge mass to be attacked for some reason right? Mike: Yea I guess that makes sense, but it doesn’t change my opinion on him though. He’s a UFO if UFOs were people. Peter: What would it take for you to think Spider-Man is just trying to look out for the neighborhood? Kim: I think he’s already pretty cool. Mike: Uh probably help my dad out in some way. Obviously there is a lot of dangerous work for police oﬃcers so if Spider-Man can take some of that danger away I’d like that. Peter: Well let’s hope Spider-Man does not have to intervene if your dad is in danger. (Kim’s phone buzzes and she looks at it) Kim: Oh my gosh! The supervillain Rhino just broke out of prison down near Greenwich! Mike: My dad was assigned there for today. (Peter shoots the fire alarm with a quick web to create a distraction) (Both Kim and Mike look to everyone leaving the building) Peter Exits Kim: Where did Peter go?

Wonderful Weather

To the trees up north that have lost their leaves To the palm trees down south that are standing proudly taking in the brisk breeze To the waters up north that are frozen above To the waters down south that the scintillating sun beams on To the re;lection on the pool of the clear blue sky beyond To the frigid and dark cloudy grey skies that most people despise In the summer, the north and the south are very similar. But on the other hand, in the winter that's when the two start to differ. To the hot sand surrounding the beaches To the icy snow surrounding most land Hot and cold were never allies. But that is why the weather is extraordinary because it is always a surprise.

Ta’Qaire Bell/Form I

HAIKU

Nature is wild The tall trees sway side to side Sun shining down Connor Mackey/Form III

Mattie’s father dies Her father’s name was Frank Ross She’s from Arkansas Sean Horkan/Form III

Loud crack of the bat Fresh smell of the new cut grass Baseball gives senses Matthew Flaherty/Form III

Poetry is hard Always trying to rhyme things Except for haiku Kevin Weldon/Form III

The sky is so blue The sky is an endless sea So so so so blue Anonymous/ Form III

Wonderful Winter The woods outside have barren trees Gone are their sounds of rustling leaves The animals who once played in the snow Now hibernate in dens and burrows Snow softly falling all around The silent flurries are such a sweet sound The moon shines above like a flashlight Nothing compares to a winter night Snowball fights and sledding hills Hot chocolate takes away the chill Hockey, skiing, and snowboarding too Figure skating and bobsled to name a few Celebrate Holidays with family and friends Make the most of it because it soon will end When spring’s flowers begin to blossom Remember how winter was so awesome

Thomas Danahy/ Form I

Light Show Cole Sparks/ Form III

Frozen Fish Alex Behn/Form III

It was a classic sad, rainy day, and the bus dragged on, heading to BB&N for their third game that week, as Alex sat next to Holden on the bus three rows back. Everyone on the bus was tired, and they had been quiet for most of the trip, but Holden decided to initiate conversation by saying, “That one player on BB&N plays like a madman. He really does.” He looked out the window. “I don’t like their coach. He’s such a goddamn phony. He blows his whistle all the time, even during the game and all.” “It’s really distracting”, added Alex. “You can’t tell what’s going on.” “I swear sometimes you just try to enjoy the game and a phony like that comes up and blows a whistle right in the middle of it.”, said Holden. “Boy, that makes me angry sometimes. I should do something about that today. What I’ll do is, I’ll go over and buy my own whistle at that shop right outside the field. Then, when he blows his whistle, I’ll blow mine back at him, twice as loud and all.” “Are you allowed to do that?” Alex asked. “What do you mean?” “Never mind.” “It’s getting colder outside,” observed Holden. “It’s getting real cold. It’ll be snowing soon, and everything will freeze and all. You know that lake down by that ol’ Arlington house?” “Yeah, what about it?” Alex asked “When it freezes over, what do you think the fish inside it do? They’ll get frozen inside the lake,” Holden said. “So?” asked Alex. “They do that every winter and they probably don’t die.” “Okay, you don’t need to be so sore about it.” said Holden. “If you want to know the truth, I don’t know if I really want to play today. I really don’t” “Why not?” Alex asked. “If you want to know the truth, I’m not really feeling like it. Today is 1515so lousy. Boy, I hate days like this, where it’s rainy and cloudy and windy and all. Too bad I can’t wear my hunting hat during the game.” Holden pulled out his hunting hat from his sports bag and tugged it down over his head, with the flaps facing backwards. “Where’d you get that hat?” asked Alex. “I don’t know, some sports store or something. It’s really a swell hat, especially when you turn the flaps around so it’s more comfortable and all. I saw it through a window a while ago,” Holden responded. “The guy that sold me it was such a phony, though. He kept trying to bump up the price and all on me. He thought he was so grand.” 15

Holden resumed looking out the window as it was starting to rain harder, and the rain was coming down so hard that you couldn’t see anything outside. “The weather’s really not so hot outside, is it,” said Holden. “No, it’s getting worse, we probably won’t be able to have our game,” responded Alex. Just as he said that, the bus driver announced to everyone, “The game has been canceled and we are turning around!” The bus driver went back to his seat, looked out the window to find a safe place to turn around, then used his mirrors to turn around and go home safely.

Ceiba Wild, Form III

"True Grit" is Truly Gripping Jake Kornmehl/Form III Ethan and Joel Coen's screen adaptation of Charles Portis’, True Grit, displays how a self-reliant young girl experiences significant loss and hopes to find justice,; all while maturing and discovering herself throughout the movie. Mattie (Hailee Steinfeld), originating from a small town near Fort Smith, Arkansas, ventures through the Southwest hoping to avenge her father’s murder. Throughout the film, her independence clashes with many of her companions’ reluctance to take the young girl seriously. When Mattie is only fourteen years old, her father is viciously murdered and robbed by the crafty, on-the-run criminal, Tom Chaney (Josh Brolin). After hearing about multiple deputy marshals throughout the state, Mattie selects Rooster Cogburn (Jeﬀ Bridges), the ruthless and most disciplined marshal, to put her father’s killer on trial. However, Tom Chaney is a criminal experienced with running from the law leading both Mattie, Rooster, and the trio's final member, La Boeuf (Matt Damon), a cocky, thirty-five-year-old Texas ranger, on a wild goose chase through the south. The directors captured the setting of a bustling mid-19th century western town with surrounding rural environments. Hailee Steinfeld's well- orchestrated performance of Mattie

caught me oﬀ guard,

considering that a well-crafted performance from such a young actress’s debut role was unexpected. Her urgent tone and hopes to attain the best price when haggling with Col. Stonehill (Dakin Matthews) in the wellthought-out western oﬃce backdrop creates a riveting scene. Bridges captures the temperament of Rooster Cogburn, and his interpretation of the callous, ill-tempered character inspires. In the earlier scenes of this film adaptation, Jeﬀ Bridges delivers a rigid and almost frightening character, mirroring that of the book. Matt Damon’s performance of La Boeuf satisfies both new viewers and those who have read the book with his overt pride and wit, which is quite an achievement for an actor in a film adaptation. Josh Brolin’s rendering of the unadulterated villain, Tom Chaney, helps create thrilling scenes in the second half. One trait that shined with all the characters was both the comical and realistic western accents that engaged the viewer into a small town and a rural, arid prairie. Early in the movie, Mattie visits a shop where she skillfully haggles for horses. The characters' backand-forth banter takes anyone back in time to the 19th century. Throughout the first two-thirds of the adventure with the trio, Mattie, Rooster, and La Boeuf endure challenges, including bandits and the perils of nature as well as amongst themselves. Their repeated bickering leads to some humorous moments scattered throughout. However, the scene that stood out above all else was the culmination where Mattie and Tom Chaney battle it out in a dramatic showdown involving a melody of guns, terms, and more. The makeup, visuals, and summarization of character development tie this scene into a fulfilling finale. In between these scenes, however, there are some tedious moments while the trio travels on horseback. 17

The screenwriters wove multiple themes and morals throughout the both emotionally and visually stimulating film. This film's focus is Mattie's maturity throughout her perilous journey to bring Tom Chaney to justice. The Coen brothers emphasize Mattie's transformation from the quite naive and conceited girl after her father's death into a self-aware and understanding woman. The theme of maturity is also prevalent throughout the author, Charles Portis' original novel, as her naive nature shows when meeting Lucky Ned Pepper (Barry Pepper) and her obliviousness to his relationship with Tom Chaney. The musical aspect to the movie failed to meet the standards of the other areas of the film. Within scenes, the music choice almost detracted from the suspense and contributed to the slow-moving aspects of the scenes previously described. "True Grit" is a PG-13 movie. The widespread use of guns and the complex storyline may be oﬀputting to young children. However, as a teenager or an adult, this movie can be a satisfying way to finish oﬀ anyone's Saturday night. Many of the Coen brothers' previous films have been oriented towards the slapstick genre and were undoubtedly comedic. However, they rose to the challenge when directing the 2010 film adaptation of Charles Portis' True Grit and fabricated a thrilling western film that many can appreciate. Score: ⭑⭑⭑⭑ out of ⭑⭑⭑⭑⭑

The Boots of a Hiker Vince Mezzanotte/Form II

I woke up under my blue and black striped bed sheets in my god-like house. Like every Saturday I energetically hopped out of bed and ran downstairs, not even stopping to make up my bed. Waiting for me like always was Uncle Simon with his famous pancakes. “Morning kid,” he said. “Hey, Uncle Simon,”. Ever since my parents disappeared 10 years ago Uncle Simon is the closest thing to family I have. He was my dad's best friend growing up and took me into his life when they disappeared. “You ready for our hike?” Simon asked. “Of course!” Every Saturday was a hiking day for me and Simon. We have been doing it for the past 10 years to get my mind off my parents being gone. After breakfast, I got ready and like always, put on my old hiking boots. I wore these every day of the week no matter what I was doing. These boots are the reason Simon and I started hiking in the first place. These boots were the last thing my parents gave me before they disappeared. “Hurry up, kid!” Simon yelled from downstairs. I rushed down the stairs leaving mud prints next to the countless others from the many times I had walked up and down those stairs with these muddy boots on. As we walked outside the estate, into the quiet streets of Franklin, looking at all of the glorious mansions lining the roads, something felt different. It was a feeling I couldn’t describe. It felt like although everything was the same as last Saturday, something would end up different. Knocking me out of my concern was Simon again, telling me to pick up the pace, something he never did. “Common, kid, I have things to get done later. Let's do this quickly.” Simon was a very laid back person and him telling me to hurry up multiple times just made this day even weirder. When we arrived at our normal hiking trails, a 10-minute walk from the estate, the sky turned ominous. I said to Simon, “Do you still want to go? It wasn’t supposed to rain.” “Yes, we should be fine.” But 20 minutes later as we reached the peak of our hill, wind gusts picked up and it started to storm.The black skies lasting as far as we could see. Looking in the distance, we saw bright flashes of light. It was like the gods were pissed at us. As the wind kept flowing by faster than we could ever imagine, Simon and I were blown off balance. Suddenly, a look of realization swept over Simon and he knew that this storm could be really bad. He yelled, “Get over here, kid! We gotta get outta here!” “There's a cave over there, let's stay down for a bit!” I responded. We ran over to the cave but as we entered, I tripped over a rock and my boot came off and rolled away into the cave. “SIMON! My boot! I need it!” I screamed. I didn’t want to lose that shoe. It meant more to me than anything in the world. But to our 19

surprise a figure popped out of the shadows. The storm outside the cave seemed to disappear as my entire focus was on this figure. Simon held me closer than ever as the figure approached us and said, “I think I know this shoe.”

Boston Public Garden Abe Tolkoﬀ/ Form VI While the golden hue is one to behold Everyone’s day begins to unfold The beautiful haze begins to fade And a blue pigment is displayed Excerpt, Samuel Flood/Form I

Butchered

Jake Kornmehl/Form III

"Dad, please don't leave me!" said David. "Son, you will have to look after the butcher shop. I am sorry you have to see me like this," he uttered in a

cold, raspy voice. "I love you so." It felt to David that death was there in the room with them. However, death didn't take his father's frail body right away, hiding in the shadowed corners of the hospital room until an hour later when his father's respirations became too diﬃcult to bear. He did not know where to start. David barely ever went to his father's butcher shop. He went to school and came home. There was always prepared food on the table. That would not be the case anymore. The next morning, he arrived at the butcher shop. He had no employees, and his dream of college had been washed away.

He stared down at the floor, overwhelmed by the responsibility of running a shop. David sat down and began to look up at the ceiling, contemplating what life could have been, his fingers tapping on the hard wooden table behind the front counter. That first day, he broke much of the machinery, attempting to reconcile all the skills his father had taught him when he was young. He clogged the sausage grinder with too much ground 21

meat, and he annihilated the meat slicer. Not one person walked in or out of the store that solemn day. David watched as a smog of darkness swept over Brooklyn as he walked to his apartment. He sat in bed, looking out the window, staring at the moon. He decided to sell his father's butcher shop. Now frustrated, David said to himself, "How could my dad possibly think I could maintain this shop?" The next morning he advertised his shop for sale. At the start, he was hoping to sell the shop for $22,000. However, after a few days, the price dropped to a mere $15,000. The only offer kept him awake that night. He felt unsure if the deal would benefit him and anxiously hoped that a new offer would save him from this overwhelming burden. David knew this was an outrageously low price, but it was enough to cover college. The next day, he picked up the phone and called a customer, Chuck Levine, the most successful businessman in Brooklyn. David was shivering. He had never done business before. All he could think about was if he would screw it up. Chuck always knew how to strike a deal. David admired that about him because he was not bold enough to deny or even wait for another offer. That afternoon, Mr. Levine arrived at the butcher shop. David pulled him into his office. "Well, this is a bit quaint," said Mr. Levine, quietly gloating. David kept his composure. He passed a stack of papers to Mr. Levine and said, "Sign these, and the shop's yours!" Mr. Levine scribbled eagerly, knowing he was getting a terrific deal. That night, David listened to his radio, $15,000 in an envelope resting in his palm. He was unsettled when he heard that the Jews were being placed into segregated communities in Europe by the National Socialist Movement. The relatives on his father's side lived in Chemnitz, a small city in Eastern Germany, but he had never met them. David felt guilty when he thought, "Here I am with 15,000 dollars in my pocket while my family is at risk." Two days after David sold the butcher shop, the phone rang. David picked up and heard his mother's high pitched voice as she shouted at him.

"Why did you sell the damn shop? I am raising your brothers, and you cannot handle one job?

Furthermore, you ask why I am always disappointed?" she bellowed over the phone. David lived alone since his father had died. His mother, Chava, and siblings, Aaron, Josh, and Joseph, lived in Boston and were very well oﬀ. David's father had divorced her when he was three because he did not want her to take a job outside of the city. They treated David, who since age 15 chose to live with his father as if he did not exist. He laid back onto his bed, his hands on his stomach, pondering the possibly horrible decision he had just made, and sighed. The

next day, he heard a knock on the door. It was Aaron. Aaron was the eldest brother, and David knew if he was here, so was every other brother. "What were you thinking by selling the shop!" he screamed. David replied calmly, "To get money for college." Aaron repeatedly argued with David that morning about how he did not need college; he needed a steady income. A few hours later, his entire family came tumbling into his small apartment. Chava glared at him. David did not know why she was so upset.

"Not a day in her damn life did she ever worry about Dad's butchery," he thought. "All she did was

complain and complain about how she didn't want to spend her life grinding meat." The day of Morton's funeral eventually arrived. David wore a black suit along with a plain white buttondown shirt. He packed three handkerchiefs into his chest pocket. It was early in the morning, cloudy and dim, an eerie fog set over all of Brooklyn, and he had only fifteen minutes to drive to the funeral home. Chava walked into the home, surprising David as he did not expect her to come. His brothers never showed. "How could they not come to their own father's funeral?" thought David. "Anyway, the ceremony was about to begin, no matter the audience." Morton's long list of friends he had made throughout his years on Sheckel Street attended along with their wives and David himself. David was the first to give a eulogy, discussing his memories with his father and their butcher shop. David's eyes welled with guilt, thinking of the sale of the butcher shop. He felt motionless and alone, no longer surrounded by any real family. David desired to make his father proud, whether to go to college or continue his father's legacy as a butcher. "Was I making the right decision?" David pondered. The next morning he went to the butcher and asked Mr. Levine if he could repurchase the shop. Mr. Levine refused, boasting about how he is going to make a quick buck from this place. It pained him to see the new sign 'Levine's Fine Kosher Meats.' Then, hoping to feel in his father's presence, David asked if he could work at his old butcher shop. Levine, knowing the pain he had just gone through, begrudgingly allowed this. A few weeks later, David opened the door to the butchery, smiling upon hearing the familiar soft jingle in his ears as he walked to the back of the shop. Mr. Levine had put up a list of work for David to complete that day. After cleaning the whole cow and grinding pre-cut beef, he began his final chore. David saw marked inked lines to guide his cuts on the beef, each section having a specific number. 856...857...858. Inexperienced, lackadaisical about listening to his father's lessons on how to use a knife, David missed the mark. He felt 23

something rock solid grind on the blade. He thought it must be a bone that Mr. Levine forgot to tell him to remove. David cut open the meat and out popped a mesmerizing necklace with a silver Jewish star embedded in a diamond and sapphire pendant bordered by a ring of small circular diamonds.

Earlier, Mr. Levine saw a segment of silver chain hanging out of David's pant's pocket. At closing, once

all the customers left, Mr. Levine pulled David behind the counter. His eyes widened. Mr. Levine grabbed David by his shirt and slammed him to the counter; he was furious. He yelled at David, wondering how on Earth he had discovered it. "You see," said Mr. Levine, "You do not make much dough from prancing around Brooklyn buying the most hopeless tiny shops. I do a little somethin' on the side. It makes life more interesting. I wouldn't say anything to the police. The Nazis are attempting to steal thousands of pieces of art and jewelry from onceprosperous Jewish families. They hire me to help smuggle their pieces to their American friends and family here. My job is to hide the jewelry and make sure it is rightfully delivered. I place them inside the meat, and once a customer is ready to pick up, they call me on the rotary phone in my oﬃce. They give me a three-digit number, and I hand them the slice of meat with those precise digits written on it. Then, they walk out of the store as if it were a normal sale. After all, I'm helping our people keep items passed down through their beloved families for generations."

At that moment, David thought of his uncle's impending deportation to Poland, "I have an uncle: the

brother of my dead father, whom I desire to bring to New York. Sadly, I do not have the money necessary. Is there a position in your smuggling business that is open at the moment?" David implored. Mr. Levine answered, "Yes, in fact there is a load of cattle coming into the harbor very early tomorrow. There will be over $100,000 worth of jewelry inside. If you can bring back the cattle, I will give you a cut of the profit. Then, you should be able to bribe a Nazi I know in Dresden in order to provide your uncle with a ticket and visa. The artifacts you must retrieve are on a cruise ship. The Captain works with us. If you're interested in the job, head down to Red Hook Harbor in four days at two o'clock am. The ship leaves at eight in the morning on track to Hamburg. Yes, to Nazi Land. All you gotta do is get the meat and bring it back." It was the middle of the night now, and Mr. Levine picked his hat up oﬀ the rack and left. David was alone once again. Shanks, David's father's beloved stray cat, crouched waiting for its daily portion of raw liver. David handed him a glistening piece that was about to go bad. David said good evening to Shanks and put on

his coat. He opened the door and left for his apartment in the depths of the night. Once again, he was reassured by the soft jingle of the door. The evening before the fourth day, David set his alarm clock to one in the morning. He hobbled out of his bed and made some porridge for an early breakfast. David took oﬀ his striped pajama suit and crawled into a crew uniform shipped to him from a mysterious source the day before. It arrived in a cardboard box with no tag, no seal, no source. He walked to Red Hook, each minute checking his watch ensuring his on-time arrival. Once he got to the dock, a massive cruise liner came into sight, filling his peripheral vision. A man's flashlight whipped towards him and flew clear up to David's face. "I have been expecting you," the Captain said. "You must be David Rubenstein, the boy who wants to help his uncle but doesn't have the money. Here's my proposition. You help smuggle back the jewelry and paintings we need to return to families, and we'll find someone to hide your uncle and to help bring him back to New York. Now, get on the ship and act like you're working! We don't need Nazi sympathizers getting suspicious." The Captain turned to him and extended his hand, "Name's Captain Martin, good to meet ya."

"Yes, Sir!" responded David.

He slid on to the ship, trying to attract as little attention to himself as possible. The kitchen's noise was irritating, the pots and pans clashing, vegetables sizzling, and the meat on the grill hissing. Nevertheless, David knew he must fit in and began to scrub the pans covered in a thick layer of burnt oil. He saw the eye-catching pink sunrise through a small porthole, and his watch read seven o'clock AM. David walked down to the crew deck in order to be ready for when the passengers would arrive. Thirty minutes later, men and women dressed in finery began to board. David quickly hid behind a pile of crates, and he rushed to his room to put on the crew uniform he had borrowed from the Captain. He unlocked the suitcase and opened it. David then saw his perfectly folded white sailor uniform. He waited until nightfall, remembering Captain's orders, and then crept out of his room, darting down the poorly lit hallway. Eventually, he reached the kitchen, remembering a door labeled, 'Meat Locker.' When he entered, the small room was cold, and the frosty mist began to fade, displaying hanging cow carcasses. He grabbed the razorsharp cleaver oﬀ the shelf and brutally started to chop away, butchering the meat exactly how Mr. Levine showed him at the shop. Each section was numbered 921...922...923, reminding David which meat cuts he had to retrieve and which needed to be left for the lavish dinner service. He grabbed some butcher paper and rolled it over the cuts of meat. He could feel the weight of the fragile necklaces and a small oil painting tucked away in 25

a full rack of ribs. He threw everything into four brown paper bags and attempted to walk out of the steel meat locker door to reach the deck. Suddenly, the door slammed behind David, locking him in the confined space. After being shocked by the loud noise, David's deep breaths began to form a vapor against the frigid air. He realized that he was locked in. He stared through a small peephole in the middle of the door and saw the man's eyes, a deep green. Nevertheless, David could not quite make out his face. He panted as loneliness began to creep upon him. After several attempts to break through the door, he became frustrated and overcome with dread. Knowing that in time he would surely die of frostbite, he anxiously began to climb up the grated metal shelves. His arm could not reach the porthole. He decided to debone one of the large tomahawk steaks using the cleaver he had used previously. Blood splattered over his clothes and the walls of the meat locker. David held the bone and broke through the glass of the porthole. The glass shattered, shooting small shards across the floor of the meat locker and the deck. This disturbance created a significant amount of noise, so he hurried to escape the ship before any crew mates discovered him. He used the same bone to push down on the handle on the other side of the door, his hands and arms sweating and sore while having to worry about the Nazi sympathizers on board. All of a sudden, he heard a click, and the door swung open. Both David and the paper bags tumbled out of the meat locker onto the cold wooden deck. Quickly, he began to search, and he caught sight of a lifeboat instantly. He thought it could be useful when bringing the heavy bags of meat and valuable items oﬀ the ship. He was hurrying because he saw the crew holding flashlights, running up the stairs onto the deck in the distance. With his heart beating fast, he lightly placed the bags into the lifeboat. David quickly lowered the lifeboat down onto the surface of the water near the dock. David jumped onto the wooden pole from the edge of the lifeboat and crept his way onto the dock, one lamp post guiding him. He reached down onto the lifeboat and brought the packages up one by one, careful not to harm any of the fragile pieces inside. He carried them in his arms to Mr. Levine, who was waiting for him in a jet black Rolls Royce sedan. Quickly, Mr. Levine drove oﬀ into the shadows. Suddenly, David noticed sea water dripping from Mr. Levine's trench coat. He realized that dry salt lined the soles of this man's pitch black boots. David heard a quiet banging coming from the sedan's rear compartment. "Someone was struggling to escape. It must be Levine in the trunk!" he thought. When David looked up, the car had pulled into a dreary alley. He could barely make out a menacing smile under the driver's hat, as he sat there staring down the end of a pistol.

Allie’s Glove Anonymous/Form III I ran out the door into the street and quickly walked down the street. It sure was a lousy day. The rain was coming down like crazy, and nobody was outside. That’s the thing about lousy days like this one; nobody likes to come outside even though it’s not as bad as it looks. I took a left down the next street. I was going to meet a friend from Belmont Hill, another school I had flunked out of. I put my hunting hat on to hide from the rain. I was heading to the bar where he said to meet. That kills me cause neither of us is old enough to drink. He always carried around this brown book-bag for no reason at all. I don’t think I’ve seen him open it once. That kills me. I hate it when people do something for no reason. I turn the corner and push through the door. “Hey Holden!” He was sitting about three tables to the right of the door. “Over here!” he exclaimed. As if I wasn’t looking directly at him. That kills me. “Hey, how are you?” “I’m doing fine how about you?” “Just swell. How’s ol’ Belmont Hill?” “It’s been great this year. What about you? What school are you going to now? I told him. “And? How is it?” “Oh it’s been grand.” Truth is it was just the same as every other school I went to. Phonies everywhere you look. I hate phonies, I really do. I went up to the bar and called the bartender over. “Hey can I get a scotch and a soda, but make sure not to mix it.” “I’m very sorry, sir,” He said, “ but I need some kind of identification before I give you any alcohol,” “Does it look like I’m too young!’ “I’m terribly sorry sir, but I can’t give you anything without age verification,” “Fine, fine, just bring me a coke, I guess,” The bartender brought me a coke and I sulked back to the table. “Ugh,” I groaned, “Why can’t they just let me buy a little scotch and soda. It’s not like it’s a big deal right?”“Well, you are a minor.” “Yeah, Yeah. Hey you ever wondered where the ducks go when the pond freezes over?” “Don’t they migrate like other birds?” “Maybe,” “Hey, what’s that in your bag?” he asked. I had completely forgotten that I was carrying 27

around my backpack with me and I quickly looked inside to see what it was. Poking out of the top of my bag was Allie’s glove covered in green spidery writing. I pulled it out and showed it to him. “This is my brother’s baseball mitt” I said. “Oh, I didn’t know you had a brother; what’s his name?” I don’t know why but all of a sudden I felt very sad and lonesome. It was like no one remembered Allie except for me.” “His name was Allie.” “Was?” That made me feel terrible, like I was really admitting to myself that he really was gone. “Yeah, he died from leukemia a few years ago,”

“Oh,” That made me feel terrible, like I was really admitting to myself that he really was gone. “Yeah, he died from leukemia a few years ago,” “Oh,” I suddenly felt super sad. “I think I’m going to leave,” I said. I got up and put the glove back into my backpack. I quickly walked out the door. All of a sudden I began to think of ol’ Jane Gallagher. I wondered what she had been doing. I thought about giving her a call, but I didn’t really feel like it. I just wasn’t really in the mood, so in the end I just ended up walking home. And that was the end of that. It was a pretty boring day, but I still can’t stop thinking about it for some reason. That’s the thing about boring days; they might feel boring, but they can be very memorable.

In Your Shoes Wesley Zhu/Form II I open my eyes, expecting to see the bright white shine of the sun through my bedside window. Instead, I was greeted with a flash of lighting and a clap of thunder that rattles my just-awoken eardrums. I figured I might need my rain boots to get to school today. I lazily rolled out of bed and groped around the nightstand for my glasses, trying to remember where I’d thrown my navy blue wellingtons last week. Spring had just started, stubborn snow still stuck on parts of the lawn, and rain showers had become more and more frequent. However, I wasn’t the most organized person in the world. I tended to lose things a lot, and today was no exception. I was still wondering as I ate breakfast, gobbling down scrambled eggs and buttered toast as fast as I possibly could. I needed to be ready by 7:30, and the time on the oven read 7:15 already. I hadn’t even packed my bag! I dashed around the house, frantically searching for my already overdue lab report, snatching pencils oﬀ the countertop and out of drawers and trying to remember where my rain boots were, all the while shoving food in my mouth like a maniac. Finally, my bag was packed at 7:45 and I literally flew out the door, raincoat only half on. Suddenly, I felt water trickling into my socks and seeping between my toes. An icy feeling crept up to my ankles as I realized I had completely forgotten about my rainboots. They were probably hiding in the closet somewhere, but I was already late, and I knew my homeroom teacher Mr. Johnson would already be pissed. I sloshed miserably through puddle after puddle, wondering how soaked I'd be for the rest of the day. As I had expected, Mr. Johnson was not at all happy about my tardiness, or my soggy feet. I tried to act casual as I trudged into room 205, shoes squeaking and leaving a trail of muddy water in their wake. The walk to my desk was more like a walk of shame; everyone's eyes on me, like those laser scopes the swat team used. Mr. Johnson as usual wore a wrinkly white dress shirt tucked haphazardly into his unbuckled and sagging pants, and gave me his usual droopy cheek frown that made him look like a mastiﬀ, but a lot less cute. “Late again, Mr. Walker, and this time leaving a mess as well,” came the lazy voice I’d grown to detest. “I lost my rainboots,” I muttered, pulling out my lab report, which was thankfully still wedged between numerous textbooks, relatively dry. “And what makes you think that excuses you?” Mr. Johnson inquired, his droopy mouth slowly becoming more droopy as he attempted to frown even deeper. 29

“I just didn’t want to get my feet wet.” I mumbled, knowing exactly where this was going. “Detention, Mr. Walker. This has been the 4th time in two weeks. I’m sorry, but you give me no choice.” Mr. Johnson drawled on, side-eyeing me as he marked my name as late. After 6 long hours, plus an extra hour of detention, and another miserable walk home, I finally stumbled back into my house looking like the dirtiest middle schooler in history. My shoes were more like wet towels than shoes, and I could barely feel my wrinkled feet. As I stripped oﬀ my soaked clothes and stepped into the shower, I reflected on how the day had been. I had been late to school, received detention, gotten a failing grade on my lab report and probably hypothermia as well. And on top of it all, I don’t think I’d ever be able to find those rain boots.

Tonka Takeover Cole Sparks/Form III

At Home Chad Sidel/Form II The humid air was lingering as I forced the sliding glass door open. The sun watched over my house while I walked outside. It was the weekend, and I had no intention of going anywhere. My soft slippers hugged my feet as I walked back inside to grab my mug full of hot chocolate. I prepared myself to sit down and watch a load of Netflix for the weekend. "R-R-R-Ring!!" The phone rang, and I knew my day of seclusion was long gone. It was my best friend, Jake, "Bro, you have to come to the Red Sox game tonight! It's gonna be a blast." "Okay, s-s-sounds good," I stated. But I felt as if I had just heard that I had a test. It was a friendship test. My comfort had now turned to nervousness, and Jack hit me with a feeling of shame. I had to choose between going to the game or missing out. Hours went by with a sense of a ticking clock looming above my head. It was hard to weigh my options, but inside I knew I shouldn't prolong the inevitable, but I did anyway. "Honey, your friend Jake's mom told me that he invited you to go to the Red Sox game tonight. Are you going to go?" Mom started, with a deep smile on her face “Uh-Well" "Well, what? It's a great opportunity to have fun," she fired back without me even finishing. "I think that it would be better If I just stayed home." I knew that she would be mad, but I was worried that my "friends" or really classmates would think I'm not cool. To me, it wasn't worth the risk. I felt perfectly fine in my simple home with my simple life. "Hey, Son, can I talk to you?" "Sure, Mom, what's up?" "So, I know that you don't know if you want to go to the game or not tonight, Right? Well, you see, I understand where you are coming from, and it makes sense. You don't know if your friends will accept you, but something I learned is that it's not worth it not to experience something that will give you joy because of what you're afraid of. That's probably a little silly to you, but I wanted you to know that" I could hear the care in her voice. I wanted to show her that it didn't seem to mean a lot to me because I wanted to be strong, but the truth is it did mean something to me, and I thought about it. I popped oﬀ my soft, warm slippers and put my shoes on to get ready to get picked up.

Does It Take True Grit to Get Through “True Grit?” By Duncan Kilbride

After reading the novel and viewing the screen adaptation of “True Grit” by Charles Portis, I can give a formal review of the movie. “True Grit” is a classic American tale set in the 1870s. It includes many characteristics of an old-fashioned western drama, such as cowboys like characters and a storyline focused on justice. Unlike many of those traditional narratives, “True Grit” is told by a fourteen-year-old girl named Mattie who seeks revenge on the man who murdered her father. Mattie, Portis provides a unique and fresh take on the traditional western. The film predominantly takes place in rural Arkansas in the Indian Territory (Choctaw Nations) outside Fort Smith. The story begins with Mattie coming to collect her father’s body and bring him back home. But while in Fort Smith, Mattie decides she will have to take justice into her own hands and hires a U.S. Marshal, Rooster Cogburn, to assist her in capturing Tom Chaney, her father’s killer. During their journey, they join with a Texas Ranger named LaBoeuf who is coincidently searching for Chaney as well but for different reasons. While Chaney is the apparent antagonist, many other criminals enter the telling (most prominently Lucky Ned Pepper). The thirteen-year-old Haile Steinfeld portrayed Mattie Ross very well. Her performance fully encompassed many of the key aspects that made her character so unique in the first place. The most obvious is her lack of intense emotion, which makes Mattie feel more mature than her age would suggest. One scene, in which her acting was put on a pedestal was when she and Cogburn were riding back on Little Blackie. The pain Steinfeld showed the audience at the death of her horse was fantastic. It reveals that while an adept actress at more mature roles, she also can deeply connect with her character. This scene could have been further augmented if a better relationship with the horse had been built. Joining Steinfeld in well-done performances were Jeff Bridges as Rooster Cogburn and Matt Damon as LaBoeuf. Jeff Bridges used a deep southern accent to come across as a cruel and ruthless hunter while, at times, still being partially likable. Matt Damon did a similarly fine job though his accent was less believable and he connected less with the other cast members than Bridges and Steinfeld. The film has many powerful and interesting aspects, but those were mildly offset by a few evident issues. The sets were astonishing and brought the viewer into the scene. It was not only the breathtaking natural beauty of Arkansas, but the buildings and culture conveyed were just as astonishing. The costumes and acting were similar in quality. Both were truly convincing and expertly done. At the end of the movie, one scene that combined all of these elements was when Cogburn dramatically charged the bandits at the climax. Despite all of this, the script tended to occasionally rip one out of immersion. Especially with Mattie, her word choice and 32

response times were unrealistic, and this was of no fault of her own. Her maturity and schooling may have been exaggerated during these times. Although many of her lines were directly from the book, they did not have the same feeling when spoken out loud. Another concern was the lack of Frank Ross. He was supposed to be the movie’s main driving point but was shown for so little time that no significance or urgency was built up with the audience. It would also have been confusing if for not having read the novel. “True Grit” is littered with major themes. Three of the most important are justice, independence, and grit. Justice was the whole thrust of the movie as Mattie goes on this quest to fund justice for her father. Portis’ story heavily includes this too. This can be seen as a whole section of the film is dedicated to watching three criminals be hanged. Mattie even meets Rooster Cogburn in a courthouse. Independence is also a crucial theme because the story recounts how Mattie slowly gains her independence and grows as her own person. The final theme is grit. Mattie slowly develops her grit while encountering all of these other themes. The film is appropriately rated PG-13 for its crude language and violent encounters. A specific example is the multiple scenes featuring people being hanged or already hanged. This movie is not great for a younger demographic, but is better for teens on account of its strong coming of principles. Still, no matter the age, the plot and scenery are delightful and empowering for this modern-day world. Scale of 1-10: 7