CURRENT Winter 2014

CURRENT cape cod academy ✦ Feb. 18, 2014

“All the world’s a stage.” shakespeare

CURRENT magazine ✦ made at CAPE COD ACADEMY ✦ on line February 2013 issue 3

cover photo of Liz

by Larry Brown

Holiday concert video including “Twelve days of Christmas” http://vimeo.com/ 84130794

C o n t e n t

Midsummer Night’s Dream photos by L. Brown, E. Johnson 3

Owl photos by Mrs. Albis 7

Drama Club’s “Apocalypse” in rehearsal 9

Chinese New Year with lively video 14

Hannah van Sciver ’10 and

The Excelano Project 16

Ancient Greek Class with Ms. Ciampi 22

GALE Fund Nook Grant for Ungerman Library 24

Alumni Day with Mrs. Bellamy and Mr. Brown 25

Creative Writing by Tanner, Daphne, Olivia and friends 27 2

CURRENT magazine ✦ made at CAPE COD ACADEMY ✦ on line February 2013 issue 3

“Oh, what fools these mortals be!” -Puck William Shakespeare, himself--considered the greatest playwright of all time--would have been proud to watch our sixth graders and their acting of his A Midsummer Night’s Dream, a comedy about a clash of the world of faeries with the world of mortals.

Sixth grade teacher Dorothy Wyeth directed the show.

The actors marvelously entertained and delightfully pranked and prattled. We cheered the clarity, expressiveness and comedic moments of their performance.

A Midsummer Night’s Dream has been done by decades of CCA sixth grade classes, and this performance carried on the tradition in style. Bravo! !

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CURRENT magazine ✦ made at CAPE COD ACADEMY ✦ on line February 2013 issue 3

“Let me play the lion too: I will roar, that I will do any man’s heart good to hear me, I will roar!”

Bottom-I, 2, 327

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three min. video of a most wonderful rehearsal scene

http://vimeo.com/ 84789815

“I, the man i’ the moon, this thorn-bush my thornbush, and this dog my dog.”

Moonshine-V. 1,258.

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CURRENT magazine ✦ made at CAPE COD ACADEMY ✦ on line February 2013 issue 3

“If

we

shadows

have

offended,

Think

but

this,

and

all

is

mended,

That

you

have

but

slumber’d

here

While

these

visions

did

appear.”

(Puck-

V.I.i43

)

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CURRENT magazine ✦ made at CAPE COD ACADEMY ✦ on line February 2013 issue 3

photo by Mary Albis 7

CURRENT magazine ✦ made at CAPE COD ACADEMY ✦ on line February 2013 issue 3

Snowy Owls

feed on a wide variety of small mammals such as meadow voles and deer mice, and sometimes larger prey i n c l u d i n g h a r e s , muskrats, marmots, squirrels, rabbits and raccoons.

“Snowy Owl.” Wikipedia

Latin teacher Mary Albis was on a photo expedition with friends from Italy when the party spotted these feathery friends in (above) Duxbury Beach, Duxbury, MA, (below) West Dennis Beach, Cape Cod, and (right) Horseneck Beach, Westport, MA. These are her photographs.

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CURRENT magazine ✦ made at CAPE COD ACADEMY ✦ on line February 2013 issue 3

Apocalypse Rehearsed Writer-Director Ric Bellamy coaches the actors.

photos by BA 9

CURRENT magazine ✦ made at CAPE COD ACADEMY ✦ on line February 2013 issue 3

A

P

O

C A L Y S

P E

exerpt from APOCALYPSE by Richard Bellamy

MABES Sam Finnick has to ask me to Prom or I’ll just die!

(All this time, Serena has been trying to read, but now she looks up in distraction.)

SERENA Tell me, Mabes. Are you just talking to yourself like you usually do because you’re totally insane, or are you talking to me? Because if you’re talking to me, I’m not listening. I’m reading.

MABES (turning; as though just noticing her sister) Serena! How did you get here so fast?

SERENA I took the shortcut. Also, I didn’t hang out at my locker gossiping with my friends, and I didn’t walk past the lacrosse field and spy on Sam Finnick practicing.

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CURRENT magazine ✦ made at CAPE COD ACADEMY ✦ on line February 2013 issue 3

exerpt from APOCALYPSE by Richard Bellamy MABES (unsettled that Serena knows) I wasn’t spying on Sam. He saw me watching him.

SERENA Don’t you think he’ll think that’s kinda creepy?

MABES Oh, I don’t know. All those guys like to be watched. (grabbing Serena’s book) What are you reading now?

SERENA (grabbing it back) “THE HUNGER GAMES.” MABES I thought you’ve read that book at least twenty times.

SERENA Twenty-two times. I’m picking up on the nuances of the prose.

MABES Listen to you! “The nuances of the prose.” You sound pretty insane yourself.

What’s your thing with all this post-apocalyptic fiction you read?

SERENA Dystopian and post-apocalyptic survival novels express feelings of doom and gloom as a result of 9/11, terrorism, and the economic crunch. Because of all this, we fear a larger disaster, and we wonder how we would act in a situation like that.

MABES Serena, you’re so weird!

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CURRENT magazine ✦ made at CAPE COD ACADEMY ✦ on line February 2013 issue 3

exerpt from APOCALYPSE by Richard Bellamy

SERENA I like to be prepared.

MABES (mocking) You mean you’re preparing for the apocalypse? As if that will ever happen!

SERENA The way we’re going, something’s gotta give. Look at how cars pollute the air we breathe, and chemicals in the earth harm the food we eat. I saw a movie in biology class and it showed how they inject chickens with hormones so that their breast meat is so heavy they can’t even walk! The globe is warming, the ozone layer is depleting, and the poor, defenseless honeybees are disappearing! Look at how we rely on technology for all that we do and how we need vast stores of energy to run that technology! One day, everything’s gonna fall apart. The end of the world as we know it!

MABES The only thing that can cause the end of the world as we know it is if Sam Finnick doesn’t ask me to Prom.

SERENA (laughing) Well, get ready for the apocalypse, Mabes. Maybe you should read up on some survival tips.

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CURRENT magazine ✦ made at CAPE COD ACADEMY ✦ on line February 2013 issue 3

DVD’s of the performance of Apocalypse will be available for purchase for ten dollars.

Proceeds will go to the SHELTER Fund.

Please speak with a member of Drama Club to reserve a video.

Thank you.

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CURRENT magazine ✦ made at CAPE COD ACADEMY ✦ on line February 2013 issue 3

Chinese New Year Celebrated With a fresh coat of snow on the ground and exotic decorations hanging everywhere at the school, we celebrated Chinese New Year. Activities and entertainments were organized by our thirty something Asian students, and boy did we have fun!

Our younger ones screamed when the dragon entered...some older ones and a few teachers, too! Then there were the dancers and musicians and dumpling makers and calligraphers. What a great gift of fun and education our Chinese brothers and sisters gave us. They seemed to be having a great deal of fun, too, especially when horsing around.

Ha! Ha! (Watch the CURRENT video to see the dragon!)

You will have a lot of fun watching the CURRENT video of the New Year celebration!

Ask Mr. Ayres for the password! http:// vimeo.com/ 85610752

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CURRENT magazine ✦ made at CAPE COD ACADEMY ✦ on line February 2013 issue 3 I know... the water will not boil if I watch it !

An incredibly delicious dumpling !

This is SOOO much harder than golf ! ! !

c’mon c’mon c’mon CHOPSTIX !!

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CURRENT magazine ✦ made at CAPE COD ACADEMY ✦ on line February 2013 issue 3

The Excelano Project Travels from Philadelphia to Perform Spoken Word Poetry Friday Gig at the Academy, Saturday at Cotuit Center for the Arts They brought their work with them, homework and stage work, alike. Their classes were back in session at The University of Pennsylvania but that did not deter these university students from harnessing the reindeer, stowing the homework and bestowing their poetic gifts on a frigid, blustery Cape Cod. On Friday, January 24, led by Hannah Van Sciver (CCA ’10), the seven members of The Excelano Project entertained our middle and upper schools in a morning performance and t h e n w e n t o n t o t e a c h workshops in some English classes. The links on page 19 take you to videos documenting the day of spoken word poetry.

The following evening, Excelano performed two shows at Cotuit C e n t e r f o r t h e A r t s , w i t h proceeds going to two non-­‐ proVits on the Cape. Here are Cotuit program notes: “The Excelano Project is a spoken word collective based in Philadelphia at the University of Pennsylvania. Since our formation in 2003, we have been featured at the White House, in the HBO documentary “Brave New Voices,” at the renowned Nuyorican Poets Café, and on Broadway. We have completed since our inception in the national College Unions Poetry Slam Invitational, and have taken home the title twice in recent years.

Over lunch the troupe prepares for the workshops.

We strive to give back to our local community, frequenting inner city schools, prisons and arts venues where we lead educational workshops. We perform biannually on campus before sold out auditoriums; we guest spot at campus events and performing arts shows; and we are a strong presence at the University of Pennsylvania’s Kelly Writers House.

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CURRENT magazine ✦ made at CAPE COD ACADEMY ✦ on line February 2013 issue 3

The Excelano Project Travels from Philadelphia to Perform Spoken Word Poetry Friday Gig at the Academy, Saturday at Cotuit Center for the Arts “We are thrilled to be including Cape Cod, Massachusetts in our tour schedule this year, as we return for the third consecutive year to the vibrant Cotuit Center for the Arts.

We are elated that this year, 100% of our ticket revenue will beneVit Independence House and WE CAN. Both are non-­‐proVits providing essential services to women and their families on Cape Cod. We would like to express our e n o r m o u s g r a t i t u d e t o t h e philanthropists who have fully underwritten our Cape Cod tour, m a k i n g t h e s e b e n e V i t performances possible. They are: The Bruce and Adele GreenVield Foundation; Gayle and Bailey Hans; Sharon Hawkins and Allen White; The Lyndon Paul Larusso Charitable Foundation; Maggie and Harry Van Sciver; and Linda and Bill Zammer.

Finally, we would like to thank the Executive Director of Cotuit Center for the Arts, David Kuehn, and his outstanding staff f o r t h e i r p r o f e s s i o n a l i s m , V l e x i b i l i t y a n d o v e r a l l deliciousness. And special thanks to Hannah’s mom for ten home-­‐ cooked meals, seven comfy beds, and an embarrassing number of loads of laundry.”

Some of us from CURRENT Magazine were at the show on Phil Petru greets the troupe.

Saturday in Cotuit and spotted others from the CCA community, including Noelle Benoit and Mariah Van Sciver.

Hannah will be graduating from UPenn this spring. The CCA community is grateful to Hannah and the wonderful poets of The Exelano Project, and to the Van Sciver Family Lodge for providing for everyone.

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CURRENT magazine ✦ made at CAPE COD ACADEMY ✦ on line February 2013 issue 3

The Excelano Project at CCA

Above: Excelano poets perform for the middle and upper school.

Below: Excelano poet-­‐teachers give a workshop for one of Erni Johnson’s English classes.

photos by BA photos by BA 18

CURRENT magazine ✦ made at CAPE COD ACADEMY ✦ on line February 2013 issue 3

The Excelano Project at CCA

CURRENT Excelano videos: http://vimeo.com/85364830 https://vimeo.com/85614007

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CURRENT magazine ✦ made at CAPE COD ACADEMY ✦ on line February 2013 issue 3

Excelano Project poets

left to right: Samuel Prieto (2016) wanted to be a fighter pilot but is colorblind. His favorite poem is The Fisherman by Anis Mojgani.

Victoria Ford (2015) loves giraffes and wishes humans could be so longnecked. Her favorite poem is Love by Matthew Dickman.

Hannah Van Sciver (2014, CCA 2010) is excited about her prospects as a starving artist. Favorite poem: Van Gogh by Charles Bukowski.

Camara Brown (2017) likes Ethiopian food and really sappy movies to laugh and cry simultaneously. Her favorite poem is Skinhead by Patricia Smith.

Alicia Liu (2014) is a midwestern gal who is a closet introvert who loves sauerkraut. Her favorite poem is Last Love by Rachel McKibbens.

Ivy (Sole) McLendon (2015) is from Charlotte, North Carolina. She makes music, lots of it. Her favorite poem is Somewhere I Have Never Trave!ed, Gladly Beyond by E.E. Cummings. THIS POEM APPEARS ON PAGE 66.

Lina Hashem (2014), not pictured, is studying Neuroeconomics and dreams of having a pet swan. She collects magnets.

Source: Cotuit Center for the Arts presents The Excelano Project program 20

CURRENT magazine ✦ made at CAPE COD ACADEMY ✦ on line February 2013 issue 3

“Act well your part; there all the honour lies.”

Alexander Pope, Pope: An Essay on Man Middle School basketball team

photos by BA

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CURRENT magazine ✦ made at CAPE COD ACADEMY ✦ on line February 2013 issue 3

Ancient GREEK DRAMA C URRENT writers visited

Rosalba Ciampi, CCA’s native of Italy, to discuss her Ancient Greek class, her background and her reasons for teaching Greek at Cape Cod Academy. We also found out about the Greek translation of Apocalypse (the name of the recent Drama Club performance). It means a revelation or uncovering.

Rosalba Ciampi with her children Yani and Kea Rosalba acquired her love of teaching Greek from her experience as a student in Italy at both high school and university level and as a graduate student at the University of Washington where she taught undergraduate classes.

Rosalba has secured a fellowship for a least a couple of years, from the C.A.N.E. Phinney Fellowship for Creation of New Ancient Greek programs in New England secondary schools. The promotion of the study of Greek in schools was a lifelong interest of Professor Ed Phinney, author of the the American Edition of the Cambridge Latin Series and president of the American Classical League.

The fellowship assists with salary and summer study for the teacher, as well as teaching materials. The fellow’s school agrees to continue the Ancient Greek program after the duration of the grant, should the program be deemed successful.

Says Ciampi, “Since I came to CCA in the year 2000, a new interest has evolved... in exploring the language spoken by the ancient Greeks. Several students have approached me expressing their willingness to study the language and culture of the society that had been the cradle of the Virst experiments in democracy, philosophy, and oratory.”

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CURRENT magazine ✦ made at CAPE COD ACADEMY ✦ on line February 2013 issue 3

Ciampi discusses oratorical terms with James SchoVield

“How can an educated person stay away from the Greeks?

I have always been far more interested in them than in science.”

-­‐Albert Einstein

photos by BA

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CURRENT magazine ✦ made at CAPE COD ACADEMY ✦ on line February 2013 issue 3

GALE Grant Adds NOOKs to Our Library

by Ben Ayres, Middle and Upper School Librarian

The GALE Fund goal is to “provide significant ongoing funding for worthy projects through annual fund-raising and through building an endowment.

[Its] vision is to enable the creation of a tolerant and supportive culture for the full population of Cape Cod and the Islands, regardless of sexual orientation” (http://galefund.org/About_the_GALE_Fund.php).

Last spring, I received a GALE Fund grant to add eBooks and print books to our middle and upper school library collection related to the issue of personal freedom. While we had some LGBTQ representation in our collection, I wanted to expand it to literature that would authentically portray sexual orientation and gender issues in the 21st century.

Additionally, books were selected that provide an opportunity for all students to understand the fight against inequalities. What I am finding as I select material is that adolescent fiction can serve as a celebration of identity, and also, still, as an outlet for authors and readers who encounter resistance to their rights and identities.

The grant helped CCA acquire Nooks which give students as well as teachers easy e-access to fiction and nonfiction. Book selections include fiction geared to independent reading, and nonfiction that might be used in the classroom. In addition, on the Nooks are installed a few games for students to have fun and exercise a bit of their own freedom!

Everyone in our community is invited to browse this new collection. Just borrow a Nook, scroll through the icons and open your selected eBooks. We have three GALE Fund grant Nooks in the library, each identically loaded with the same quality literature. Also, check out our 20 new, hard copy books acquired with the grant. Many of these titles are in our Nook collection, so you could form a group of four and each have the same book to enjoy and discuss.

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CURRENT magazine ✦ made at CAPE COD ACADEMY ✦ on line February 2013 issue 3

ANNUAL ALUMNI COLLOQUIUM

Proud of Our Alumni

by Mary Bellamy College Counselor and English Teacher As always, I am proud of our alumni, who are well-prepared academically for college and who make the most of all the opportunities their college years afford. I could not agree more with Ben Taylor, Tufts freshman, who urged students to "try tons of new things - put yourself out there - do the thing that SPEAK WITH SENIORS, you've always been afraid to tr y." ALUMS HANNAH AND RAHEEL AT LUNCH WITH Looking back over the past four years, HISTORY TEACHER SCOTT ANDREWS, WITH DIRECTOR OF DEVELOPMENT college senior Hannah Van Sciver (U. of TIM JEAN McCUTCHEON Pennsylvania) encouraged freshmen to "ditch preconceived ideas and take classes which interest and challenge you.

Wo r r y l e s s - d o w h a t y o u l o v e . " Getting involved, expanding one's horizons, managing time, and making connections with peers and professors were common themes. "At CCA there is trust between students, teachers and administrators," notes Olivia Rauss, a junior at Haverford College. She Our graduates' willingness to share advised students to try to create that their experiences and suggestions same climate on their campuses, even if with current CCA students is greatly there is no explicit honor code, as there appreciated by all. of us here. is at Haverford.

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CURRENT magazine ✦ made at CAPE COD ACADEMY ✦ on line February 2013 issue 3

Alum of observation to the Jack Xu Notes made Importance an interesting Writing to College Success international students about the importance of grammar, Mr. Kerry Brown, College office writing fundamentals, and essay revision; I thought this was especially useful since many of them seem to regard English classes as of secondary importance. A general theme was that the nonacademic things you learn in college are just as important as the academic ones. Most of the alums viewed fraternities and sororities in quite a positive light but also noted that they were not a dominant influence on their campuses as a rule.

-Kerry Brown, college counselor

Alumni Rebecca, Jack, Tim, Raheel, Olivia, Sage and Gabby meet with eighth graders.

a short video of this library gathering http://vimeo.com/ 84129753 26

CURRENT magazine ✦ made at CAPE COD ACADEMY ✦ on line February 2013 issue 3

Take Off..... with Mortimer Sikes So, is it just I, or does it seem like the word “so” has surpassed the word “like” for “most vapid word” honors? Every time I turn around, people are starting sentences with so.

SO?

So what? Why not say so? you ask. I say: Words do make a difference. When people start so many sentences with “so” itʼs redundant, repetitive and hissy sounding.

My sister Sunflower asked me yesterday, “So, Mortimer, want to go to The Hobbit with John and me?” Why didnʼt she just ask, “Mortimer, want to go to The Hobbit with John and me?”

I did go to The Hobbit with Sunflower and John. Afterwards, as

we were having boneless wings and skins at 99, John asked, “So, Mortimer, what was your favorite scene?” I wanted to spear him with my fork. Why didnʼt he just ask,”Mortimer, what was your favorite scene?” I ended up telling John that my favorite scene was the barrel escape of the dwarves and Bilbo from Mirkwood.

It has to be the right time and place to bring up the S word. I didnʼt want to undermine the Middle Earth effect happening in that booth. So it goes. Anyway, so, cheers, So Mortimer Sikes

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CURRENT magazine ✦ made at CAPE COD ACADEMY ✦ on line February 2013 issue 3

Six-word stories with Mrs. Bellamyʼs creative writing class Snowy winter day, Christmas lights Shine.

Six word stories, hard to write.

Three weeks, Twelve days, Christmas break!

Two paths.

Which one is best?

Abigail

Alex

Night, I hide in your walls.

Jason

Wake up and smell the

coffee.

Charlotte

Country music, what else is there?

Boston, Colorado, Falmouth; which is home?

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CURRENT magazine ✦ made at CAPE COD ACADEMY ✦ on line February 2013 issue 3

Learning to dance in the rain

Graduation coming up, are we ready?

Languages, French, English, such high expectations.

Jeanne

Coffee Coffee Sleep Coffee Coffee Sleep

chapped lips

Jillian

Water level rising, everything is gone.

Kyle

red cheeks winter time

Left or Right, Right or Wrong.

Jillian

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Phillip

CURRENT magazine ✦ made at CAPE COD ACADEMY ✦ on line February 2013 issue 3

Phone turns on, mind turns off.

Shhh, I promised

Sun comes up, hits my back.

I wouldnʼt tell.

Tanner

I dream to dream with you.

Elizabeth

Makeup can never hide the truth.

Tess

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CURRENT magazine ✦ made at CAPE COD ACADEMY ✦ on line February 2013 issue 3

Optim!tic

and pessimistic

lives are paradoxes.

Music is a form of Life.

Ivy

Ivy

Some"ing: y# look "r#gh at windows.

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Ivy

CURRENT magazine ✦ made at CAPE COD ACADEMY ✦ on line February 2013 issue 3

Creative Writing with Mrs. Bellamy

Game day.

Nerves, anxiety, sweat, success.

Meaning of life.

Knew it, forgot.

Iguanas ate the scholars arm.Ouch

Jack

Kristopher What

is

the

meaning

of

life?

Whatever

you

want

it

to

be. Jack

Beach

Why

whisper

when

you

can

yell?

Question

what

you

have

been

told.

Miles

Puzzles are meant to be solved.

Rules are meant to be bent.

Roles are meant to be challenged.

somewhere I’d like to be.

Daphne hand portrait by Jillian

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Maddie

CURRENT magazine ✦ made at CAPE COD ACADEMY ✦ on line February 2013 issue 3

She Knew Too Much

by Daphne Vantine Bethany walks down Commerce Street with a tiny smile on her face.

Her auburn curls bounce with her every step on the dirty sidewalk. She stops at a brick building and reaches for the glass door with hanging bells. Before stepping over the threshold, Bethany notices a sharp-looking man in a black suit sitting on an iron bench. He holds Bethany's stare and watches her step through the door with "Dr. Jeanine Holland, OBGYN" etched into the glass.

A half hour later, Bethany emerges from the glass door. Her eyes are bright, and her smile is bigger than before. She holds the sonogram picture up to her face and blows on the drying red ink that reads, "Congratulations, Daddy!". The man in the suit emerges from an alley and walks quietly behind the brisk-walking woman.

"Congratulations, Bethany," he calls out. Bethany temporarily breaks the rhythm of her quick steps, then returns to her rapid pace.

"I think you have the wrong person," she says to the man, without glancing back. Her face is frozen, and the smile is gone. She looks straight ahead and slides the photograph back into her pocket.

"It's really too bad. Babies born in prison go straight to Child-Family Services."

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CURRENT magazine ✦ made at CAPE COD ACADEMY ✦ on line February 2013 issue 3

She Knew Too Much

Bethany stops and begins to turn.

"But you might get to see her on Christmas. Is it a boy or girl?"

"Do you think I'm a criminal or something?" Bethany forces a puzzled look.

"Mrs. Rowland, I know you're a criminal. So do us both a favor and stop lying." # "It all started as an easy way to make money back in college," Bethany tells the Boston FBI agent. She lifts her hands from the dark wooden table and notices the condensation from her sweaty palms. "Tommy was a biology major, and Joe was chemistry. I was an Econ major, applying to grad school to get my MBA. We all sort of fit into the puzzle. I guess that's how it all worked."

"What worked?" the agent says, as he stares at her from across the table.

"This whole thing," she says, surprised that the agent does not understand her references. "The drugs, the money, pulling it off for so long."

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CURRENT magazine ✦ made at CAPE COD ACADEMY ✦ on line February 2013 issue 3

She Knew Too Much

"Well, Mrs. Rowland," the agent sighs, "so you are aware, you are immune from any charges in return for your compliance. If you do not agree to these terms, you are unfortunately subject to felony drug charges, along with your husband and his partner. You are looking at 10 years in the Plymouth County Correctional Facility. That being said, there are some things you need to do for us." Bethany nods. "You see, Mrs. Rowland, the guys here at the Bureau have been trying to bust your drug ring trio for months. But we haven’t been able to get a warrant because you three have covered your tracks and killed our only witness." Bethany breaks her stare on the table and looks up at the agent. "Yeah, we know Mark Catalano's death wasn’t a suicide," the agent remarks.

"Well, go right ahead. Lay it on me. You’ve got your Trojan Horse here.

It isn't like I have any other choice." # Bethany walks nervously out of the Boston FBI and glances up and down the street. Her auburn hair swings over her shoulder as she turns swiftly and procedes to a cab parked in the road. A blue minivan pulls out and follows the cab, coasting a couple of hundred feet away. The minivan stalks

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CURRENT magazine ✦ made at CAPE COD ACADEMY ✦ on line February 2013 issue 3

She Knew Too Much

house with a farmer's porch and neglected hanging plants. The blue minivan passes the cab, proceeds up the street and pulls into a driveway five houses down. Bethany steps out of the back seat and walks into the house, closing the torn screen door behind her. cab pulls away, its exhaust floating up into the cold December air. # The FBI agent gathers the papers on the wooden interrogation table and arranges them in a stack. He puts them into a manila folder, then reaches for his cell phone in his coat pocket. He dials a number, then brings the phone up to his ear.

"Hey, Paul. You there?"

"Yeah, man. Is she in?"

"On the way. I just sent her off in a cab to the house. Pretty sure Thomas Rowland is home. She's got a wire, so we should be able to get some pretty good intel this time."

"You better hope so, man. We've already failed on this wire thing once. Sooner or later someone is gonna leak that Catalano didn’t really

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She Knew Too Much

shoot himself in the head, and you're gonna see a wrongful death suit slapped on your desk, along with FBI dismissal papers. I hope you told her exactly what she needs to say. All we need is that warrant, and then we can get rid of these scumbags. The sooner this case is closed, the better. I still don't know what you were thinking when you sent a minor into that crack house for info." Paul sighs.

"Keep me updated, Jack."

"Don't worry, Paul. I think we're going to get what we need today." # The driver's door of the blue minivan opens, and a man emerges. He sneaks through the backyards of the adjacent houses. He approaches the backyard of the Rowland house, and sees Bethany and Tom Rowland through the kitchen window. He walks up the back porch steps and opens the sliding glass door.

"Hey, Tom. Hey, Beth, how you doin'?" Joe Remmi says.

"Good, you?" Tom says. "Do you want to stay for dinner? Beth is making soup and salad."

"Yeah, that'd be awesome, Beth. Thanks."

"No problem, Rem. You know you don’t have to use the back door 37

CURRENT magazine ✦ made at CAPE COD ACADEMY ✦ on line February 2013 issue 3

She Knew Too Much anymore. The feds haven’t been watching lately," Bethany says.

"I guess it's just an old habit," Joe laughs. "Hey, uh, Tom? Can we talk about some business in the living room?"

"Okay, Beth, we'll be right back," Tom calls out to his wife. Tom and Joe walk down a narrow hallway adorned with framed wedding pictures. "Tom, I have to make this quick. Man, we're in trouble. Beth is working with the feds. I was down on Claymont Street picking up some cigarettes at 7/11, you know that 7/11 near the Boston FBI? And as I am walking out, I see this girl that looks like Beth walk into the FBI. I thought to myself, 'Nah, can't be Beth, she doesn't have any reason to go in there.' So I walked back to my car and lit a cigarette and sat there for a while, and when I was just about to leave my parking spot, I see Beth walk out. I slammed on my brakes, and I watched her get into a cab.

She looked nervous, man. So I followed her all the way back here. She's working with them, man, we have to do something."

"Dude, what are you on? Why would she do that? That would mean she turned herself in. She would never do that."

"I don't know, Tom, stranger things have happened. I heard somewhere that informants can get immunity from the FBI." 38

CURRENT magazine ✦ made at CAPE COD ACADEMY ✦ on line February 2013 issue 3

She Knew Too Much "So you think she made a deal with the feds?"

"It seems like it, man." Joe Remmi turns away from Tom and puts his hands on top of his head, pacing throughout the living room.

"Joe, I don’t want to believe this, man, but it makes perfect sense."

"Really?" Joe Remmi says.

"Two weeks ago she left the house for a few hours. She said she had some sort of doctor's appointment, but I could tell she was lying. She wouldn't tell me why she was going. She must have been meeting with the feds then. They probably got a wire on her now. Don’t say anything."

Bethany is chopping cucumbers and tossing them into a salad bowl. She looks nervous. Tom approaches her. He gets right up close to her, enveloping her body, and carefully slides the chopping knife from her slender fingers. Bethany is chopping cucumbers and tossing them into a salad bowl. She looks nervous.

Tom approaches her. He gets right up close to her, enveloping her body, and carefully slides the chopping knife from her slender fingers. She is stiff, frozen; her eyes are locked on the cutting board.

"I'll do that, honey." Tom forces a creepy smile.

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She Knew Too Much

"Oh, okay." Beth walks awkwardly to the other side of the kitchen and sits down on a stool. "So are you guys ready for the deal with Chamberlain? I heard he has contacts in Chicago and Baltimore. We could expand if it all goes well tomorrow."

"Let's not talk about business right now, babe. After dinner," Tom says.

"Oh, yeah, sure." Bethany barely moves on the stool and stares at the granite countertop.

"You okay, Beth? You look tired," Tom says from the other side of the kitchen island. "Joe, will you take over on this salad?" Tom drops the knife and walks over to Bethany's stool. He begins massaging her neck. "You got a lot of knots, babe, you need to take it easy."

"Tom, I'm fine," Bethany says. Tom ignores her. "Tom, stop! I don’t need a massage right now." Tom moves his hands lower and lower down her back until his hand makes contact with the wire. Bethany stands up.

"I can finish the salad, Joe!" Tom places his hand on Bethany's shoulder and forces her back down onto the stool. He wraps his fingers around the wire and rips it from her back like a band-aid. Tom walks over to the stove and drops the wire into the brewing pot 40

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She Knew Too Much

of soup. Bethany is frozen on the stool. Her eyes are wide, and her mouth is open. She grasps the counter, on the verge of tears.

Joe walks briskly across the kitchen to a drawer, where he pulls out a roll of duct tape.

Tom breathes deeply, and the veins in his neck bulge. "The husband brings home the bacon, and the wife sits at home and minds her damn business. Isn't that right, Beth? All you had to do was balance the checkbook and make bank deposits. What was so hard about that? I gave you everything you wanted, Beth, and now you're working with the feds and you think we don't know? I thought you were smarter than that, hon. I guess you're just as stupid as those narcs." Joe exposes the duct tape from behind his back, while Tom pulls Bethany's arms around her back and spins her around. Joe Remmi tapes her wrists together. Tom spins her back around. She screams.

"Shut up," Joe Remmi says, as he slaps her in the face. He rips off a short piece of the duct tape and sticks it over her mouth. A tear drips over the duct tape as the men push her over the threshold of the back door. She stumbles onto the patio and through the uncut grass. They push her through the five backyards that Joe Remmi traveled through to reach the house. Tom Rowland shoves her into the minivan as Joe Remmi opens the back-seat sliding door.

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She Knew Too Much #

Tom Rowland sips his coffee while sitting at the kitchen island. He reaches for the newspaper and reads the first few lines of the front-page story. "A Charlestown woman was found dead Sunday in a minivan parked underneath the Patriot Street overpass. The identity of the woman has not yet been confirmed. Police are ruling the death an apparent suicide, for the exhaust pipe was stuffed with plastic bags and the car was running when police discovered the woman…"

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The Rose

By Olivia Mead ’14

”Mrs. Williams, please, sit down. As you know, your son is very sick. We have an explanation for his headaches and sudden inability to speak. He has something called glioblastoma multiforme. It is a tumor located in the brain; his, specifically, is located on the Broca area of the frontal lobe. This has caused an increased pressure, giving him his headaches and inhibiting his speech.

These tumors are infamous for not causing symptoms until they have already grown fairly large. In your son’s case, the tumor is in such a place that we would not be able to operate without further incapacitating him. Even with treatment, this kind of tumor rarely shrinks; we can only slow the growth. I’m terribly sorry; I know this is probably not what you expected to hear.”

“C-could he live with the tumor at this size“C-could he live with the tumor at this size?” I asked Dr. Edwards.

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The Rose “85% of the time, people are not able to live with this size of a tumor. Again, I’m very sorry. We can run further testing to see exactly his chances, but I’m afraid seeing such an aggressive disease in a child of only 7 years, the odds are not in his favor. However, we will start him immediately on chemotherapy and some strong radiation treatments.”

I couldn’t keep the tears back any longer. I put my head in my hands, and

my whole body shook. I couldn’t lose another family member to this dreadful disease. Mark was all I had left. I had promised David that I would keep our beloved son safe, and I had failed.

I sat down in the faded leather seat of my old BMW and thought about Mark and all the joy he had brought into my life. My memory jumped back to a summer day about a year before David had died. The three of us had been

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The Rose playing in the park, and I remember just watching Mark swing. His soft brown hair pushed back from his face as he soared into the sky, revealing his smile and striking green eyes. “Mommy! Look how high I can swing!” he had yelled, proud of his accomplishment. What would my life be without him?” I wondered to myself. I didn’t know how I would tell him about the disease or how he would react to learning about it. So many thoughts were running through my mind that I could barely see the road anymore through the thick stream of tears that were coursing down my face. I pulled off the road, sobbing helplessly into my cold hands.

Wiping the tears from my face, I told myself that if Mark had any chance of beating this disease, I needed to be strong for him. I drove the rest of the way home, only thinking about the elation we would feel after Mark conquered his cancer.

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The Rose !

I pulled into the driveway and noticed that my prized rosebush, which David had given to me on our wedding, was wilting. I immediately walked around to the back of the house and uncoiled the hose to give it some water. After sufficiently soaking the plant, I returned the hose to its home. I glanced up and saw through the window Mark and his favorite babysitter, Isabel, playing in the living room. Isabel told him something that had Mark screeching with laughter, a sound I wished I could preserve forever. He looked so happy sitting there with her; I couldn’t bear to tell him tonight.

I went through the next two weeks just going through the motions of my life. I kept surprising Mark with little gifts, and his surprised suspicion told me that he knew something was bothering me, but I wasn’t ready to tell him what it was. I went to work the next day, miserable as ever, and began to work on my tasks. Our lab was designed to tweak drugs to prepare them for clinical trials, where they would be tested by humans. I was working on a drug for Alzheimer’s 46

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The Rose patients that would slow the disease’s progression. Eric arrived, late as usual, showing the newest employee, Claire, around our lab. He was telling her all about the most interesting trials we had done, and one of the newer ones that I hadn’t heard of caught my attention.

“Yeah, we’re keeping it quiet, but there is a drug we developed just the other day, and we think it could be the first cure for cancer.”

“Wow, that’s quite impressive, when are you testing it?”

“We’re not sure yet, probably in the next few months.”

I stared at my desk, my heart pounding. This was my answer; I could help Mark. I rushed into Mr. Lieman’s office and sat down. He glanced up, surprised to see me.

“Oh, hello, Lynn, what can I do for you?”

“I would like to test the new drug. I just heard Eric talking about it, a cure 47

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The Rose for cancer?”

“You have cancer? Oh, I’m so sorry, Lynn.”

“No, not me, Mark. Please, I’ll do anything.”

“I’m sorry, you know the rules: employees, or family members of employees, are not eligible. It’s also not a cure. It is very new; we don’t know what it will do.”

“Please, Mr. Lieman.”

“I’m sorry, Lynn, I really am.”

I walked out of his office, defeated. Instead of turning right, to go back to my lab, I headed left, straight for the storage room.

I didn’t know what the trial was called or what it looked like, but I was familiar with all the others, so I was confident I would find it. I headed to the 48

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The Rose shelves where the newest drugs were placed and scanned the row for any that I didn’t recognize. My eyes stopped on a tube labeled “neoplasmic canesma.”

Neoplasmic, I remembered that had something to do with cancer. I grabbed the tube and stuffed it into my pocket while turning around to leave.

“What are you doing?” I looked up, startled, finding myself staring into the disapproving eyes of Mr. Lieman.

“Uh, just familiarizing myself with the newer drugs,” I lied.

“Put it back. I already gave you my answer.”

“I’m sorry, I just don’t understand,” I said, putting the tube back on the shelf. Mr. Lieman turned around to walk me out and I followed, after silently reaching up and slipping the tube back into my pocket.

“Mr. Lieman, sir, I just don’t understand why Mark can’t test it.”

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The Rose “I can’t explain it exactly, but the drug would not work on him, I can assure you of that, and I can also assure you that if you ever try to steal a drug again, I will fire you.”

“Okay, I understand.” I went back into my lab, brushing my hand over my pocket, making sure the tube was still there. Being fired would be devastating.

I would have no way to pay for Mark’s treatments, but I had to give him the best chance I could. I finished the work day with a restrained hopefulness. I knew I was taking a huge chance with this drug, but I felt it was our only other option.

I got in the car, this time, with a sense of hope. I remembered back to the happiest day of my life: my wedding day. I had been engaged to my soul mate, David, for 8 months, and I could not have been happier. The night before our wedding, David had bought me a beautiful rose bush, my favorite flower, in my favorite color, magenta. We had spent hours planting it right next to the door to

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The Rose our house.

“This way, we’ll think of each other every time we come home,” he had said.

The rose bush had somehow brought us closer, and when Mark was born it became special to him as well. We would spend countless summer mornings taking care of it together, making it even more beautiful. It was silly how a plant could do all this, but it did. Now, as I came home to the wilting plant, a part of me felt lost. The rose bush was the most vivid memory I had of David, more meaningful than any of our pictures.

I walked inside, taking the tube from my pocket.

I quickly put the stolen pills into a multivitamin container and put it inconspicuously on the counter with all the other vitamins.

“Mark, I’m home!” He came bounding down the stairs and slid on the 51

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The Rose wooden floor over to me, energetic as always. The collar on his button down shirt was ruffled up in the back and his pants had big dirt stains on the knees.

“What did you do to yourself?” I laughed.

“Recess,” he said. “We played baseball, and I slid to home and got a home run!” he said, barely pausing for breath.

“Good job, buddy! Listen, I got you some new vitamins. You only have to take them once a week. They’ll make you big and strong.” I smiled at him and ruffled his hair.

“I also have to talk to you about something.”

“What is it?” We sat down on the couch together, and I began to explain his disease to him.

“Remember when we were at the hospital a few weeks ago because of your headaches? They put you through all those cool machines to scan your 52

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The Rose body for anything wrong?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, they figured out what was making you sick. You have a little growth in your head that is putting pressure on your brain, giving you a headache.”

“Oh, how do they fix it?”

“We will go to the hospital a few times a week and get you medicine that will hopefully make it go away.”

“Am I going to die?”

My heart began to pound as the question I had feared the most emerged from his lips.

“Not if I can help it, kiddo.” I smiled through the pain and got up to make his favorite meal of mac and cheese.

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The Rose We began treatment at the hospital that week, and he reacted very well to it, but there were no signs of results yet. I was confused because, as much as I had tried not to, I had become very hopeful that the new drug would work. I had tried to prevent Mark from worrying about his disease by explaining it so he didn’t fully understand the severity of his condition. If his condition didn’t improve within the next few months, I had decided that I would tell him everything.

Every visit to the hospital was a test of my strength. Seeing my baby go in courageously for his treatment made me proud and destroyed me at the same time. He was very strong, just like his father was.

A few weeks later, I arrived at work only to meet an angry boss who led me immediately into his office.

“Did you take the drug trial?”

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The Rose

“Listen, it was the only hope we had.”

“Well, is it working?”

“No.” “I told you it wouldn’t, Lynn. Would you like to know why?”

“Why?” “Because it is not a cure for cancer, it was labeled such as a trial for

psychoanalysis of cancer patients. It is just a sugar pill. It is designed to do nothing. It tests the idea that those with the belief that they will get better, will.”

I looked down at my hands, folded in my lap. I began to feel very warm. I couldn’t believe it. The only real hope I had was gone. I went back to my lab and worked until one o’clock, when I left to pick up Mark for his treatment. I dreaded this trip now more than ever. I delivered him to his treatment room and stood outside, smiling supportively.

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The Rose “Mrs. Williams, hi, would you come with me for a minute?” Dr. Edwards said. I followed him into his office and sat down in the uncomfortable plasticcoated seat.

“I don’t know how, or why, but your son’s tumor has decreased by about 25%. I am astonished; I have never seen this in the 41 years I’ve been in this business. Although this is very good news, this does not mean the treatment will continue to work. I don’t want to get your hopes up too much, but I am feeling cautiously optimistic for little Mark.”

I sat there, speechless. I know this effect had nothing to do with the “cancer curing drug,” as it had obviously done nothing for Mark. I began to cry, this time out of happiness. We drove home together, ecstatic, as I had told him of his improvement. Mark turned the radio on and put on his favorite station.

“Three little birds” by Bob Marley began to blare throughout the car. We sang the whole ride home.

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The Rose Pulling into the driveway I handed the keys to Mark, telling him I had to make a quick call. The tears began to run down my cheeks once again. I glanced up at my rose bush and wiped away my tears. Its previously wilted blooms were fully open, revealing layers and layers of perfectly shaped magenta petals. Each flower was framed by thick growth of supporting branches, with the heart shaped leaves coating their exterior. Smiling for the first time in weeks, I walked inside and gave Mark a huge hug.

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The Prayer For Deliverance

By Tanner Malkasian

Horns sounded off as I raced for the nearest escape from this nightmare. The captain told everyone on the intercom that the storm was hitting us too hard, and that the waves might tip the vessel; he told us to proceed to the nearest exit. The problem was, I didn’t hear any of this; I had my headphones on, washing the dishes on the bottom floor of the swaying ship. I was the head cook on the Jascon, a tugboat off the South African coast being sent to help guide barges toward the docking station. This was supposed to be my last voyage before a much- needed vacation with my wife and two kids, but that didn’t seem to be happening any time soon. I realized we were in trouble when I saw the other cook rushing for the stairs and out the door; he slammed it as he exited in a rush, jamming it in place. It took me a second to realize what was happening, but then the ship started turning. I fell down, slammed my head on the side of a cabinet, and tumbled onto the ceiling, hitting my head hard on the metal corner of one of the lights and being beaten with falling pots and food from above.

I was now trapped on the capsized ship. My head began to pound as the pressure of the sinking ship gripped it, squeezing me until I fainted. I remember waking up with water funneling up my nose, making me cough and choke. Terrified by the situation, I frantically stumbled around, looking for anything I could get my hands on. The lights that were once above me flickered as they illuminated the water beneath me; the room must have been tilted because the water on the side opposite to me was dimly lit, and I could still see my feet. My hand pushed on 58

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The Prayer For Deliverance my chest as I wheezed and coughed up some salt water I must have swallowed; I told myself to keep calm and stop breathing so heavily, because I was unsure of how much air was still in the room. I felt around for any supplies lying, or floating, around. I found two bottles of water, 24 oz. each, a box of uncooked rice, a bag of wheat cereal, and a plastic bag of Swedish Fish, my wife’s favorite candy. I brought a bag of them with me every time I set out onto the ship to keep her on my mind.

The water was still rising, so I jumped onto a thermal vent which had caught a few boards when falling in the capsizing. I could feel that the boat had stopped sinking, but I did not know how far down I was. I opened the cabinet that had toppled onto the floor, knee deep in water, and found a working flashlight and a pocket lighter, not yet wet. I grabbed them and set them both above my head in a bag I found hanging from the ceiling. I checked the large analog clock half submerged in the water, still ticking loudly. It’s 2:42 pm, but it might as well have been midnight, because no light could reach the apparent depth in which I now resided. My clothes were soaking wet, and the freezing water was plummeting my body temperature, so I took off my shirt and pants and hung them on a hanging board so they could dry.

I finally sat down and thought. I told myself that I was not going to die here. I had a beautiful wife and two little girls at home; they needed me, and they would want me to keep fighting. Thinking about this suddenly jolted my memory that my cell phone was in my front shirt pocket; I reached for my shirt and pulled it out, waterlogged, but still showing signs of 59

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The Prayer For Deliverance battery life. I quickly emptied the rice into a pot floating in the water, and buried my phone within it in attempts to drain it of its water. This bit of hope pushed me to keep looking for tools.

Nothing in my flashlight’s vision looked useful, but I saw the door that was jammed next to me within reach. I wondered if water would come rushing in if I somehow dislodged it, but, looking closely, I noticed that the bottom (now top) was above the water column, and looking through the two inch gap showed that the water was level at that point, meaning more trapped air. I grabbed another pot from the water and jammed the handle into the space, kicking at it with my feet to pry the door loose; nothing. I decided to conserve my energy and settle down for a bit, not knowing how long I was going to be down there. # Hours pass as I sat facing the ceiling, covered with footprints and globs of fallen food from my cooking. I thought about the rest of the crew, and my family. I told myself someone must have made it to shore and alerted the authorities of the sunken ship. Someone had to come down and look for me. Our captain always told us that no man would ever be left behind, but no one could ever expect a situation like this; maybe he’d think everyone had to be dead, and call off any search. But then I thought of Jamie, my wife, and my two little girls: my five year old Candice and my baby Megan; they knew I was alive, I could feel it, they had to. They were going to make the divers come search the ship and find me, I would come to shore, and everything would go back to normal. I would finally get a chance to take that vacation with 60

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The Prayer For Deliverance them, and I could find a new job, somewhere else, some place where they did not have to worry about Daddy not coming home for dinner every night, because I would always be there. I wouldn’t be gone for weeks at a time, traveling by myself, wishing I were there with them; I’d be right by their side, watching them grow along with my wife. # I popped my head up; I must have dozed off for a few hours, because my clothes were almost dry. I checked my phone; it was dry, too. I quickly grabbed it, reassembled it, and turned it on. I had 30% battery life, which could range from a few hours to 30 minutes if I didn’t use it properly. No signal, it was useless; I went to my messages and looked at some texts between my wife and me. Scrolling through the nonsensical talk, I reached something that stood out. It was a psalm called “The Prayer For Deliverance”; she sent me one every couple of weeks while I was out at sea, to keep me thinking about coming home. It said, “Oh, God, by your name, save me.

Vindicate me by Your might! The Lord sustains my life.” I kept reading it over and over, until I realized my phone was at 10% battery, and could die any minute; I put it down and shut it off. I was getting out of there. # For the next 30 some-odd hours I played games in my head and imagined what I would do as soon as I got out of there. I checked the analog clock I pulled from the water and hung 61

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The Prayer For Deliverance beside me every couple of agonizingly long minutes. My drinking water was running out, and the box of cereal was all but empty; I told myself that I needed a miracle at this point. With that, I finally fell asleep. # Dreams of blue skies and a warm sun on my face were interrupted by a loud thud and a scratchy noise inside the ship. I jumped up; it sounded so close; I reached my arm through the hole of the door, feeling for someone to grab me and tell me everything will be all right.

Suddenly my hand brushed something that felt exactly like sandpaper; it scraped my palm a bit.

It scared me so much that I jumped back, because I knew that feeling. Great Whites are prevalent off the coast of South Africa, and every so often the crew and I would see one launching into the air after a seal. Their power is unmatched by anything else in the waters there, and the captain always told us that if any of the crew was to go overboard, we were not to jump in after them.

The sensation felt much too strong to be a human, and I was too frightened to even yell for help.

This was a decision I immediately regretted. # I was starving. I was conserving as much food as I can, but I was down to just the Swedish Fish and half a bottle of water. It had been a little over two days, and the only thing that was keeping me going was my wife and kids. Every so often I banged the wall and shouted for 62

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The Prayer For Deliverance some help, but I never got anything back. I said the psalm my wife left me one last time and bashed the wall next to me. It dislodged one of the nails and began to leak. I pushed my hands against the slit and looked around for something to put into it to stop it. Nothing I saw could help me out, but I heard a bang on the side of the ship. It was followed by a few more thuds, and soon I saw air bubbles float through the nine-inch wide gap in the door that I pried open. I screamed as loud as I could, still holding the wall, hoping it wouldn’t open anymore. I told myself this was my last chance for survival, reached one of my hands through the gap, and let the water leak in. I knew that at this point, not reaching out would definitely kill me; I waved my hand around, and I saw a light: people. I hit my hand repeatedly against the door with little effect as the light turned away, and my heart dropped. I stopped moving, hand still out the gap, water still filling the room, and closed my eyes. I prayed the psalm my wife sent me over and over: “Oh, God, by your name save me. Vindicate me by Your might. The Lord sustains my life.”

I felt the water sway my hand in the open water downward, and then back up; the stillness the water usually harbored made this unusually shocking. Suddenly I felt something touch my hand; I grabbed it as soon as it started to touch me, and held on for dear life. The beam of light I saw earlier illuminated the entire four by six room, shoulder deep in water, that I had called home for the past two days. A hand went through the gap and gave me a thumbs up; I immediately pictured my wife and girls, and thanked the Lord for this miracle. Minutes later a second light, and a third; helping all that I could in my weakened state, we pried the door open,

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The Prayer For Deliverance and they came in. Dressed like aliens, they floated one by one into the small room and asked in static tones if I was okay. I told them yes and to get me out of there, my family needed me. One man named Terry familiarized me with the diving gear, while another hurried 100 feet back up to the diving boat to retrieve another oxygen mask for me. # It took about an hour for him to return with the mask; every second felt like an eternity, with the crack in the wall now spurting water into the room like a thumb over the nozzle of a hose. I suited up as best I could, not before wrapping my phone containing the psalm tightly in the plastic bag, and we exited the room. Terry told me before we began that because of the pressure changes we had to go slow or I could lose consciousness. As we went up on the rope line slowly reeling us in like we were fish that just swallowed a lure, I saw the ocean’s black hue slowly turn to greens and blues. We broke the surface into relatively calm waters, and they hauled me up onto their vessel; the sun blinded my vision as I surfaced, and I started to cry. Tears did not come out because I was so dehydrated; my raspy coughs were the only thing I heard as I hugged my saviors. Never in my life did I expect something so tragic to happen to me, and with it something so magnificent. After I composed myself, a doctor began performing basic testing for vital signs of stability.

My body was ruined by the salty water, my fingers in a permanent curl and shriveled to the bone. It looked as if I had nothing underneath my skin, just a masked skeleton. None of this 64

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The Prayer For Deliverance mattered to me, though, because I would heal; I had made it. # I reached shore, and kissed the beach I stepped on. After the hour-long boat ride in the wind and sun, I could feel the skin of my hands and feet peeling away, but I ignored the pain; the hot sand was the first time I had felt something hot in what seemed like a year. I raced for my car to go home to see my girls, but they told me I had to go with them to the hospital to rehabilitate.

Six hours after I reached the shore, my family arrived at Johannesburg Hospital, where I was staying in one of the beds. I kept repeating the psalm my wife sent me, now immortalized in my memory, out loud. I could see I was scaring the nurses, but I didn’t stop. A woman then entered and said, “James? We have some people here who really want to see you!” She smiled at me and left the door open as she left. My family entered; Candice shouted “Daddy!” as she and Megan ran towards me. I immediately jumped up and pulled the medical wires and cords from my body, raced and picked up my baby girls, walked over and kissed my wife, and hugged them all, never planning to let go.

"The Prayer For Deliverance," is based on a true story Creative Writing class read in December.

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Ivy McLendon of Excelano likes e.e. cummings and his poem “somewhere I have travelled” (1931): somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond any experience, your eyes have their silence: in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me, or which i cannot touch because they are too near your slightest look easily will unclose me though i have closed myself as fingers, you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens (touching skillfully, mysteriously) her first rose or if your wish be to close me, i and my life will shut very beautifully, suddenly, as when the heart of this flower imagines the snow carefully everywhere descending; nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals the power of your intense fragility: whose texture compels me with the color of its countries, rendering death and forever with each breathing (i do not know what it is about you that closes and opens; only something in me understands the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses) nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands

Ivy Chang ’14 plays her zither at CCA on the morning of Chinese New Year

photography class image

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May issue plan !

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❖ Seminars provide new ways to learn

❖ Shelter From the Storm 2014: a bonding experience ❖ The beauty of birds, explored in science class ❖ Project Gutenberg: over 42,000 free eBooks... and other features ❖ Inspiring books for YA readers ❖ The Academy’s Girl from Haiti ❖ Homework assignments: What is the research saying? ❖ CCA creative writers talk process

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Mock Trial gathers in Ungerman Library before the match on January 30.

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CURRENT Magazine CCA website School Life portal

Library Media Projects Cape Cod Academy To obtain information please contact Ben Ayres, librarian.

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