Harpeth Hall Intersections 2021

Intersections Spring 2021

A P U B L I C AT I O N O F T H E H A R P E T H H A L L M I D D L E S C H O O L

“Through the Shelves”

by Charlotte Figler, 6th grade

“The Converse”

by Liliana Smolensky, 5th grade

Intersections

A publication of The Harpeth Hall Middle School Intersections is proud to present this year’s magazine, comprised entirely of submissions from members of the Middle School.

Faculty sponsors

Ms. CJ Jones Ms. Cathy Richarde

Front cover photograph “Spread Your Wings”

by Bea Robbins, 7th grade

Back cover photograph “Nashville Nights”

by Niamh Manning, 6th grade

“New York Underground” by Abbie Bell, 6th grade

SPRING 2021

1

“Never Anyone Else”

by Rebecca Settle, 6th grade

I am alone Trapped behind a panel of glass Smooth as ice A one way panel of glass I am the snake in the cage, they laugh he he Except they only see themselves Never anyone else

“Girl’s Winter Butterflies”

by Myla Anglin, 7th grade

Without fail every day a girl with blond pigtails comes to see me Comes to see the snake Like the snakes in the zoo there is never room for two Only one I am alone Her face is painted with disappointment and sadness as she looks into the mirror at herself She is just as trapped as I am Like a fun house mirror I warp her image into lies She is trapped in the cage of an animal that claims many eyes She is trapped behind beauty Consistent as the viewers that stroll around the zoo Another girl comes to me too Her face perfectly manicured from head to toe She is trapped in the mirror Trapped with the peacocks, proud and strong She joins the others trapped in the mirror going along Trapped in the mirror of herself On a day of the year the blond girl fails to come to the mirror Like a snake at the zoo I have been let loose I have claimed a life I am a deadly mirror

“Two Faced”

by Lulu Kohler, 7th grade

2

She is gone forever She left this earth Lost in herself Never anyone else.

INTERSECTIONS

“WaterFall”

by Adelle Pitts, 6th grade (inspired by Robert Frost) Carved from what I can’t recall, Flow the waves of a waterfall.

It leads to a crystal stream Alongside grass woven of the finest green.

In the rushing, running brook, Swim many fish, off the hook.

Neon coral set in nooks, The swishing water comes alive, As busy as a bee’s hive.

From the peak of dawn, To when the animals yawn And lie down on the lawn.

So flows the waterfall each day, Hidden from view on the cay.

“Out-of-Body Experience”

by Elizabeth Hobbs, 8th grade

And to all those passers-by, Who weary after traveling low and high, The sparkling surf is a sight for sore eyes.

Through the night and all lifelong, On the bank of the waterfall, the birds chirp their song.

“Without Even Thinking”

by Margaret Simmons, 6th grade

The one we step on without even thinking The one we pile up without even thinking The one we let get devoured by the rain Without even thinking About the harm we may cause The pain we may cause The damage we may cause Without even thinking Without even thinking.

“Self-portrait”

by Reika Nakagawa, 8th grade SPRING 2021

3

“Blue Sky”

by Anna Lamb, 8th grade Ocean mist, waves churning, wind in my hair Immersed in the experience Coasting on a boat at full speed Pull to a stop and drop the line.

Rock back and forth, shifting on my feet The reel buzzes, the line runs, a fish is on and he’s mine.

Pull and crank, pull and crank, “Keep on fighting” Aching muscles and violent thrashing.

Then bliss.

Quiet slack as the creature jumps from the water.

The arch of a caught fish Silence before the storm Glistening scales and endless hunger A born predator with perfect form.

But the reel is in my hands And the pole holds true So fight I will until the line snaps.

Until my opponent emerges from the blue.

Until I collapse; until I’m pulled in too.

“Sky Island”

by Reika Nakagawa, 8th grade

“Nature”

by Mimi Steele, 6th grade Nature is all Even in fall Red orange yellow Green blue fellow Everything is not same Even when it came Darkness shed Upon the led

“Gary”

by Jesse Harwood, 8th grade

4

And now there is dark All is the color of bark Life is unlight It has said goodnight The next day Is just like may Light is back Just like a tack INTERSECTIONS

“Dew”

by Mary Kidd Lindsey, 6th grade the morning dew as it trickles through the blades of grass the midday sun shining brightly into my window in shades of gold the afternoon clouds a milky white floating through the sky like a dream the evening sunset scarlet beams projected into the sky without a care in the world

“Indigo Moonlight”

by Kiki Christopher, 8th grade

the late night stars twinkling in bright white a magical scene for the eyes the midnight moon glowing in fluorescent colors as it stands tall in the sky then you repeat repeat repeat

“The Staircase to Nowhere”

by Meronica Forrester-Kent, 8th grade SPRING 2021

5

“A Photo”

by Anna Simpson, 7th grade An image taken from time On a table Or on the wall You took it From the past From a memory you want to keep From that time so long ago In spite of your mother forcing you to smile In addition to wearing nice clothes You look back At the picture On a table Or on a wall And think On that day I was not happy I am now.

“Spider”

“Snap”

I see you climbing up the stair Slowly stalking with a glare Your beady eyes gleam so bright Will you haunt my dreams tonight?

Why do you snap While you can clap?

by Sophie Steele, 6th grade

Why do you have to be so small?

I could see you better if you were tall Why do you have to be so furry?

You think you’re hiding, but I see you scurry It’s like a game of hide ‘n seek When you find me, I will freak Why are you and your spidery friends so quiet?

How is it that you guys cause such a riot?

Why does Mrs. Hassell want you in her room?

If you escape I just might kick you to your doom Why do you have to be the way you are?

You could be pretty like a star

6

“Indiana”

by Ryan Van Mol, 8th grade

by Charlotte Smith, 6th grade (inspired by Kat Folk)

Snapping with little fingers, making virtually no sound, while sliding your fingers together is unnecessary while you can give a thunderous boom while slapping your hands together is needed.

So at the end of this poem Don’t snap please.

Give a loud clap To show you are pleased.

INTERSECTIONS

“Still I must stay”

by Kelty Jones, 7th grade

Mein Kampf, the new presumed bible but it’s my fight I take the rein and grasp the bridle on the horse of righteous evil, lightening-drenched and feeble as I wonder, whisper, wheedle: have I made it? the hail hits her reiterating fate, gloried, rusted, blinding hate as the country lies in wait Heil Hitler. ravines between the greater good and me predict the brutal scheme, war-ravaged scene of freedom. the Führer outlasts further hap’ly murders to survive but so must I. the captain risks our lives to find the cracks within their lies, the blueprints that must perish at my hands.

SPRING 2021

in the wake of Kristallnacht, I try to take die pampelmuse I try but I am trampled--too strong to douse the fire too weak to seize the hierarchy. liar.

I need to lie low as a modern mädchen Nazi under guise of a girl unfurling my wings, encircling the world. for whom the bell rings sirens blare, scatter blame to the stone walls we cling for a fraction of the fame; still I holler without falter: will I ever be the same?

Sarah vaulting, tumbling who ignored the buildings crumbling in the streets. fair, blonde porcelain, thrown on the wrong side of war again my origin.

my star, a scarlet letter a scar never to get better, my heart rips when others’ flutter haunted, faulted, by my mutter in my canine, nightmare dreams I deceived to still the stream stay on the beam.

Rothenstadt, Berlin, Vienna, home. the languages’ laughter that blur into moans the school, the stifling socialist stench the men fighting opposite our lonely trench or worse. to play the piano’s sickly keys is the vain, veiled hope I will somehow succeed but the Third Reich preys on the fear, on the fray every dawn goes down to day. but still I must stay.

7

“City in Shadow”

by Cailin Rork, 8th grade

Hills clad with cobblestone Click clack Click clack Polished people rush away Click clack Click clack A town like a tombstone Shops dead empty Click clack Click clack

“Staircase”

by Kessler Moran, 5th grade

Darkness creeping Hands clammy Lip clamping Click clack Click clack Tall, black figures flicker in and fizzle out Click clack Click clack Skin crawling Cautious tip-toeing across slick stones Click clack Click clack

“What Do You See?”

by Viola Muthuri, 8th grade I am you, You are me, We are us.

Nervous fog Lunging shadows View tilting Click clack Click black.

Do you see me differently?

Do you see me as a human?

Or only as a color?

And am I black like charcoal?

Or brown like chocolate?

Why do you see me differently?

Is it the melanin getting in your way?

At the end of the day I am a human And you are human too.

There is no difference.

8

“Radiance”

by Lucy Callen, 8th grade

INTERSECTIONS

“Ice-Skating Rink”

by Cailin Rork, 8th grade

A woman skates on a rink of thin ice as bombs explode to her left and her right.

Carrying on with boulders on her back, but a strong seed planted under her wide-brimmed hat.

A lady at a time like that, she was; however, it was only because everyone urged her Have poise Make no noise Be a sunbeam in the darkest night But not in pants — it would cause a fright So, she wore the drapes of womanhood.

A young lady with a faded dress, fading away to a lifeless shell of societal expectations.

A few dollars later, another young girl skates with money in her pocket and a big estate, but because her drapes of womanhood lived wrapped around her heart, a narrow cage she stalked through the dark.

Truly Feminine was what she would be, with “Tangee Natural” and rouge, plenty.

A frail lady, small and soft with ambition aplenty.

Who would’ve thought?

A young lady skates, living in the present, and although some things have changed some really haven’t.

She twirls around in loose pants and a fitted top and she starts to dance.

Her load is l i g h t e r, but still not gone.

She begins to wonder, From where did this spawn?

She now has the right to own the land To elect an official To have finances grand SPRING 2021

“Self-portrait”

by Jesse Harwood, 8th grade But yet, He names the sky his own.

The limits are limitless.

The borders are borderless.

Theoretically, the young lady can too.

She has the ability to flourish unless -A woman skates on a rink of thin ice, held down by society to be a wife.

To care for her kids.

To have a career, but not a “man’s job” that causes great fear.

To tuck her emotions inside her perfect hair, To hide her ambition in what she wears.

Her dreams are deferred; she sets them behind.

Because

It

Isn’t

Her

she’ll soon come to find.

World,

9

“The Crash of Waves”

by Maddie Camp, 7th grade

Hearing the soft crashes of ocean waves against the beach a reminder of all the memories that are held captive in those peaks and the millions of grains of burning sand A road trip to Orange Beach Digging a hole big enough for all of us to sit in Traveling to go see friends Completing as many puzzles as possible Eating ice cream for breakfast Catching frogs with our bare hands Walking on a seemingly endless walk to the beach A day of fun patiently waiting for us A 13 hour trip to Tybee Island My whole grade came back sopping wet, Overflowing with joy, and full of limitless laughter Pushing each other into the salty, freezing Atlantic waves A timeless memory that is treasured forever All those memories along with dozens more come Crashing down and pulled back in with the ever present undertow Taking them away to resurface on another day

“Crashing Waves”

by Margaret Moore, 7th grade

“The Sight to See”

by Julia Spengler, 6th grade Oh what a sight to see the gleaming water in the sea where once glowing blue you know that it’s true the pain, destruction and the glass broken wills you know will last

10

“6 a.m. Sunrise”

by Kelly Aquino, 8th grade

waves crashing against the trash the place is filled with mash and ash.

INTERSECTIONS

“Within My Street”

by Margaret Simmons, 6th grade (inspired by Robert Frost and Arnold Adoff) With miles to go before i sleep I find the music Within my street The chirping of birds Bombarding the power lines The chirping of birds from Birds of all kinds The cars zoom past Without even knowing The truly stashed Bumps that lay before them

“Dreidel and His Stairs”

by Ya’el Amsalem, 8th grade

Dogs barking A peaceful tone Toward the people Not making you feel so

A L O N E

The dancing leaves Creating their own moves Stretching out wide So their length does improve With miles to go before i sleep I find the music Within my street.

“Summer Days”

by Lilly Eskridge, 8th grade

SPRING 2021

“The Mouse on the Desk”

by Adelle Pitts, 6th grade

On the desk there’s a mouse Not like the mouse in your house A mouse that doesn’t move Unless you want it to It doesn’t eat your cheese Like other mice do It won’t make you say, “Oh, boo-hoo!”

The mouse’s best friend is the keyboard They work together to help the computer The mouse has a job, a purpose While real mice are a pest And steal your food The Mouse on the Desk Won’t make you mad It will always help Through good and bad.

“A Basket of Eggs”

by Sophie Hong, 6th grade 11

“Forth and Back”

by Aza Scheele, 6th grade

Morning creeps upon Stewart Place Early birds arise once more The golden dog nextdoor parades The raspy voiced old man reports

“Valley”

by Caroline Kath, 6th grade

But silence comes from the old lady Of the last porch rocking In her old wooden chair Forth and back and forth and back Night settles upon Stewart Place The rain wheezes rhythmically Cars blare music Fireworks occasionally set ablaze Late-night partiers squeak and squeal Race cars skid on the old track Chaos except for the old lady Rocking in her old wooden chair Forth and back and forth and back

“Sunbeam”

by Caroline Kath, 6th grade

“Unforgettable”

by Annalise Cash, 6th grade on the snowy hill where children go to play is one tree no longer alive but somehow it is full of life “Water Colors”

by Kessler Moran, 5th grade 12

dusted with fresh powder a beautiful image hard to forget

INTERSECTIONS

“Deer”

by Reagan Nisbet, 8th grade

“Outside the Box”

by Georgia Orndorff, 6th grade

“Brand New Rug”

by Neely Buntin, 6th grade

SPRING 2021

“Castle in the Sky”

by Reika Nakagawa, 8th grade

13

“moon”

by Annalise Cash, 6th grade The light of the sky In the night Like a planet But so unique One of a kind The pale white Dancing in the night Bursting with light “Winter Breeze”

by Abby Perkins, 6th grade

“Nature’s Spike”

by Charlotte Smith, 6th grade (inspired by Small Poems by Valerie Worth) Nature has many thorns But it only has one spike The thorns of a magnolia seed has points beyond compare But it was not always like this Let’s dive in and look down there In the beginning of its time It is smooth and crisp With little red seeds Sticking from its sides Once the seeds fall off from its cocoon The tree can’t support the new heavyweight So it falls to the ground Forgotten And replaced What once was in the eye of the beholder Is now in the face of fungi On the ground it grows old and brittle And now it has become Nature’s spike

14

“Maple Leaves”

by Greta Haroldson, 6th grade

INTERSECTIONS

“Where I’m From”

by Larkin Wilson, 7th grade

I am from popcorn ceiling walls, the color ever changing, pink to purple to blue.

I am from climbing the up the gentle magnolia, watching its leaves fall as the seasons change.

From dressing up in princess dresses in hopes to impress the staff at the restaurant.

I am from the popsicle’s wrapped plastic lining that scratched sores on your mouth.

“When Life Gives You Lemons” by Abby Lara, 8th grade

I am from driving for hours, finally arriving, chanting “Yay! Beach Bridge!” as we drive into the salty beach air, confirming we are home once again.

I am from waking up to the sound of “Oh, the places you’ll go, Oh, the things that you’ll see,” recited like Cat in the Hat, as the bright sun begins to waken.

I am from sweet little jiffy cakes, made by the dearest Ruth.

From loud sounds crafted by little brothers playing football.

I am from watching musicals taking the breath away, from me and mom.

“Sunrise Explosion” by Reagan Nisbet, 8th grade

I am from watching the waves roll onto the sand in Gulf Shores.

I am from Nashville, where memories, hopes, and dreams wash over me like a giant flood.

“Watermelons” by Elizabeth Lefler, 8th grade SPRING 2021

15

“Dreamer” by Abbie Bell, 6th grade “Glimmering Girls” by Annabel Farringer, 6th grade

“I’ve Been that Girl Before” A song by Anne-Marie Dougall, 6th grade

There you were, In the dark.

Singing music from your heart.

I was inspired so I asked to join too.

I wanted to sing just like you.

There you were, Up on stage.

With your other bandmates.

I was in the back of the room, Watching and wishing I was you.

But this is supposed to be my fresh start, And I’ve gone back to square one.

Having to prove that I’m not useless.

Proving to others that I’m worth something.

But I’ve been that girl before.

And I don’t like it one bit.

Jumping and falling without a chance.

Now it’s my turn to make that change, Cause I’ve been that girl before.

Here I am, It’s a new time.

But nothings different still the same rhyme.

I’m not inspired but I found a groove.

I know I’ll never be just like you.

16

But this was supposed to be my fresh start, But I’ve gone back to square one.

Having to prove that I’m not useless.

Proving to others that I’m worth something.

But I’ve been that girl before.

And I don’t like it one bit.

Jumping and falling without a chance.

Now it’s my turn to make that change, Cause I’ve been that girl before.

Look at me, I’m still a mess.

But you’re always flawless.

And even though I’ve tried to change, I’m still the excluded band mate.

But this is my fresh start, I get to go back to square one.

I don’t need to prove that I’m not useless.

I already know that I’m worth something.

And I’ve been that girl before.

And I didn’t like it one bit.

Jumping and falling without a chance.

Now it my turn to make that change, Cause I’ve been that girl before.

Cause I’ve been that girl before.

INTERSECTIONS

The illustrations below are self-portraits of the students.

by Reagan Nisbet, 8th grade

“Lay Before Me”

by Lillian Yarbrough, 8th grade

by Margaret Simmons, 6th grade The rock that lay before me dirty and not yet clean The layers it holds true The chips it does embrace The smooth exterior The deformed body The delicate view The tints and tones May it make you think The rock that lay before me May it make you

T h i n k.

by Hallie Gibson, 8th grade

“all i wish to be”

by Mary Kidd Lindsey, 6th grade (a poem inspired by Valerie Worth) a single blade of grass as it stands tall, lanky, slender. water droplets clinging to the edge swaying gently in the wind. so vulnerable yet trusting, and free it is only a single blade of grass

by Lucy Callen, 8th grade

“The Unnoticed”

by Louisa Wang, 6th grade In the back of the class A girl Sits down and Brushes Away Tears.

Under the table A dog nibbles On the Leftover Crumbs From the Casserole.

Up on a Tree Someone Sitting Silently Hides A Sigh.

but it is all i wish to be.

SPRING 2021

17

“The Power of Tears”

by Helena Harris, 7th grade

She stared down at her hands, sighing in frustration.

Why did it always have to be her? She was always put in the worst situations, with the worst possible people, yet she always made it out on top. She had mastered all of the arts and scored perfectly on every exam that she had ever taken, yet it still hadn’t been enough, because she wasn’t given any remarkable gifts. Of course, one person always had something extraordinary, but she had hoped that after all the time that she had put in, after all of her effort, that she might just be chosen.

That she might just be special. But of course, none of that ever came to pass.

“Citrine! How did it go? What did you get?” an unmistakably female voice called behind her. It sounded like a string of tinkling bells, like a summer breeze on a warm day, and it belonged to her best friend, the one and only Emerald, or Em for short.

Citrine turned around, her dark brown hair that she had so neatly attempted to put into a bun finally giving in and falling down to her waist once more. Citrine sighed, before looking into Em’s vivid green eyes.

“I just can’t,” she moped.

Em put her hand on Citrine’s shoulder. She was wearing an emerald dress that matched her name and her eyes, and its velvet sleeves were soft to touch.

“Oh, Citrine,” she consoled, “You’ll be okay. Everything’s going to turn out all right. You just wait and see.”

The usual sparkle of Em’s eyes went dark for a second. “Citrine,” she whispered, grasping for words like a cat grasping for dry land in the middle of an ocean.

“What happened? You can tell me anything,” Em said, her face the picture of gentle and kind. Emerald really looked like she should have been in a fashion magazine with her blonde braid and heart shaped face. She had no makeup on, yet she was often regarded as the prettiest girl in the whole entire high school. Citrine was a little jealous of Em sometimes. Her popularity, her many friends, and her kindness represented novels of interest that Citrine wished to learn some day.

Citrine shook her head, and her amber eyes closed in concentration. “Not always, Em. Everything’s not always going to be all right.” Then she realized how she must be making her friend feel, sucking all of the joy out of the air. “Well,” Citrine said, faking happiness and plastering a smile on her face, “What did you get? Wait, let me guess,” she sang, forcing herself to giggle, “They gave you a newly discovered power called the power of beauty. Is it even possible for you to be prettier than you were this morning?”

What Citrine didn’t know, however, was that Emerald was on a mission, and that she was looking for something important in her friend.

Citrine hung her head, but she knew that she had to tell someone. “Fire,” she whimpered, “They gave me fire.” Out of all of the powers to be gifted, Citrine had always despised the power of fire. When learning about it in her sophomore element class, she had remarked how it did more harm and destruction than good, which her teacher grudgingly admitted was true.

18

“The Light of Friendship”

by Annabel Farringer, 6th grade

Emerald smiled, fooled by Citrine’s fake cheeriness.

“No,” she laughed, “but I did get the power that I did want!” Her braid seemed to laugh with her, bobbing up and down with her head.

Citrine forced herself to smile even brighter. “You got the power of the forest? Just like you wanted? That’s great, Em!” Her dress, which again, was the same color as her namesake and her eyes, rustled as she walked towards Em. She looked up at her friend, for Emerald was about two inches taller than Citrine. “Show me,” she whispered, “I dare you.”

INTERSECTIONS

Dares had always been an important part of Em and Citrine’s life, back when they were in middle school.

Back then, Citrine had had another friend. Her name was Sapphire, and she was a short, plain girl with blue eyes and red hair. Sapphire soon moved, and therefore left the trio, but in sixth grade, she loved to dare Em and Citrine.

“I dare you to lick the wall!” Sapphire would say, sometimes making up even more ridiculous dares. Her eyes would twinkle, and she would light up Citrine’s whole world with her creativity. Of course, the past is the past, and Citrine was more interested in the present.

Em slowly stretched out her dominant right hand.

“Okay,” she grinned, “But you have to find a plant first.”

Citrine quickly surveyed her surroundings, looking past the pavement and into the plains beyond. “There!” she exclaimed, actually enjoying herself now. There was a lone bush sitting on top of a particularly high hill.

Emerald raced towards it, out of the parking lot. Her dress rustled around her feet and her brown sandals.

She successfully made it to the top of the hill, before turning around to Citrine, who was standing at the base of the small shrub. Em extended her right hand again, before making a sweeping motion with her arms.

Citrine’s eyes widened as the bush grew to two times its original size. Although she had seen this happen before, it was never with her friend, Em, in control.

Em stopped and bounded down the hill, towards Citrine. “Ta-da!” she smiled, before placing her hand once again on Citrine’s shoulder. “Now,” she said, “Tell me what element you got.”

Citrine sighed, her depression returning. She knew that this would come up eventually. “Well,” she held out her hands, “I have the fire element now…”

Emerald’s smile dropped. “Oh, Citrine…” she sighed sympathetically, “It’s going to be okay. I know that you hate the fire element, but you still have a good one.

Besides, there really wasn’t anyone who got a special element this year.”

Citrine perked up a little. “No one got a special element? Surely there must be a mistake! Maybe they messed up with me!” Her eyes brightened, and she did another hair-swish.

Em sighed. There was no use in telling her friend something that she didn’t want to hear. There was never any use in persuading Citrine. She never wanted to hear anything other than what she wanted to listen to. “Well…” she said, trying to brighten the situation, SPRING 2021

“Maybe they did make a mistake! But…” Emerald trailed off.

Citrine was instantly on alert, her mood falling again.

“What is it, Em?” she said in a small voice. “What’s wrong?” Citrine started walking towards the parking lot once again. There was no use in staying on the hill.

Em followed her, talking. “There’s been rumors that- that-” her voice hitched, as if she was scared to even say something, although in reality she was scared that she would upset Citrine.

Citrine’s temper finally got the better of her. “JUST GO AHEAD AND SPIT IT OUT!” she snarled, her fingers trembling in both sadness and anger.

“There’s been rumors that someone has received such powerful powers that there will be no ‘normal extraordinary’ power like usual.” Emerald finally squeaked. She knew that she was going to get it in a second.

Citrine frowned. “What did you say? You said it so quickly that I didn’t understand it.” Citrine twiddled with her thumbs, a nervous habit. “Oh, is it something bad?”

Em sighed and repeated what she had said again, now doing her nervous habit, which was picking her eyebrows.

Citrine’s eyes widened. What Em said couldn’t be true! It had to be a joke. “Em…” she said slowly, trying to compose herself. “I-I guess it’s okay. I wasn’t expecting much either. But why are you just telling me this now?”

Emerald replied, as she frowned a little. “Well… I couldn’t trust you exactly. I thought you might panic.”

She cringed at her own words, hating how mean they sounded, but she knew it had to be done in order for the plan to work. Citrine had just given her the answer that she had needed.

Citrine’s lip trembled, and she ran away from Em, through the parking lot and to her car. She quickly opened the car door, started the engine, and drove out of the parking lot, hot tears blurring her vision.

Why did Em have to spoil everything? She knew that her friend tried to understand her, but sometimes she didn’t get that nothing was better than anything. She had spoiled Citrine’s hope at a better life. The only good job she could ever help to get with the power of fire was some high and mighty business job, which required no powers at all.

Citrine was sitting at a traffic light, waiting as patiently as she could between tears, when her phone dinged.

19

She glanced down at it, assuming it was Em, wanting to talk to her about what had just happened. Citrine froze at what she saw on the screen.

Unknown Number: So you want to have special powers?

I can give them to you.

Citrine knew that Em wouldn’t play a joke as cruel as this. Yet, how did this number know that she wasn’t happy with the magic she had? Besides, although the technology was there, it was illegal for anyone to ever do it. If someone was found guilty of changing someone’s magic, it would be the death penalty for them and whoever agreed to get their powers changed.

The traffic light in front of Citrine was still red, so she took the opportunity to type an angry reply. How could anyone attempt to pull a trick like this on Citrine?

Citrine: Whoever you are, you’ve intrigued me. But I know that this is just a stupid scam to cheat me out of my money or whatever else. Go away, bot.

She knew that the unknown speaker wouldn’t respond. There was no way that it was a real person.

Citrine had heard about these scams on the news, and how they tricked you out of your personal information.

Sure, it might sound interesting, but it still was a scam.

Unknown Number: I see that you’re still cautious. Well, I can prove you wrong. By saying that I’m not a bot, I mean that I’m not a bot. Now, drive to 22 Acorntread Drive, or lose the chance forever.

Citrine: …

Citrine sighed. She could really be missing out. She was so desperate for anyway to be regarded as special that she would do anything at this point. She looked up 22 Acorntread Drive on the navigation app on her phone. It was on the far west side of town.

Citrine: I’ll be there. If this is a scam, you’ll be sorry. *** Citrine drove up the gray gravel driveway in her car.

She stared out her car window. She parked her car off on the right side of the driveway, before she saw the mailbox. It read 22 Acorntread Drive in big black letters outlined in white.

Citrine got out of her car and slowly made her way over to the large brown bricked house in front of her. It had a white porch with four columns supporting it, and a porch swing. The bricks were rough in texture, and it made her think of a cave.

20

“Stress”

by Madi Chandler, 8th grade A sleazy man with greasy black hair stepped out onto the porch, smiling when he saw her.

“Ahhh,” he purred in a voice as slick as his hair, “Hello, fire-user.

Come in!”

As Citrine slowly stepped up, she froze. In the man’s hands was a machine that she had only heard of, one that was so illegal that it wasn’t even funny. It was very similar to the machine that Citrine had used to receive her powers, but this one was the kind that had been banned forever. It allowed the person who received the powers to choose what power that they wanted. Any power that they wanted.

Citrine darted forward to see the machine, inspecting it. There was no way that it was real, yet every detail was the exact same to the details that she had learned about in her freshman government class.

The machine was a gray color with a red glow on the inside. It was shaped like a cube, and it was metal. There were three different buttons on it: one was red, one was green, and the other was yellow.

The man pressed the red button with a long, crooked finger. The machine omitted a strange beeping sound, before making a sucking noise.

“There!” The man exclaimed. “You have no powers to worry you now. Now run along, little no-magic.” His grin, while once sly, had turned downright evil. His hair seemed to stick up in a mad halo around his head, and his fingers twitched, as if he itched for more.

Citrine had never seen greed so pure before. Her eyes, wide with shock, said everything. It was okay to receive a bad power, but there was no future for anyone if they were to ever somehow have no power!

Citrine ran away for the second time that day, over to her red car. She opened the door and got in, rushing away at an unmentionable high speed. Gravel spewed everywhere, and one piece tinged against the side of the car, creating a slight dent.

INTERSECTIONS

It was a good thing that Citrine didn’t look back. If she had, she would have seen the same man, except he now had fire in his hands.

Citrine pulled over as soon as she felt far enough away from the horrible house and the horrible man.

She quickly whipped out her phone from her burgundy purse, and called Em. “Hello? Citrine?” Em said into her phone. “Is everything okay? Listen, I know I made you upset earlier, but if there’s a way that I can make it up to yo-” Citrine cut her off. “Not now, Em. Listen, something happened, and I need to talk to you about it.” Tears filled her eyes as she said this, but Citrine pressed on despite the distraction.

Emerald’s voice became alarmed. “Citrine, you’ve never been this miserable before. What’s wrong?”

Citrine told her everything, starting from the strange task and ending when she drove away. By this time, she was sobbing, for she had worked so hard all of her life in order to get a decent power, yet even the measly one that she had had been taken away.

After hearing this, there was a moment of silence on Em’s end, before she finally spoke. “Citrine. I don’t think you’re a bad person. I think you made a mistake, yes, but everyone does stupid things sometimes. If you explain to the school what happened and ask for a new set of powers, I think they would understand. If they don’t, then I can talk to them myself. I can even contact some more people and get them to contact the school!

You’re going to be okay. Trust me. However, it sounds like you’ve been through a lot, so you should come over to my house right now.”

Citrine agreed, for she was feeling much better after Em had lifted her spirits. She hung up the phone and drove over to Em’s house, even mustering a tiny smile.

Citrine nodded, a little surprised. She hadn’t thought of that! For as long as Citrine could remember, she had always wanted the power of lightning. It was a rare and powerful gift, and it took courage to use it. It was not nearly as destructive as fire, and it could actually help others in several ways.

Citrine held out her hand and channeled what little energy she had left into what she thought could have been an acceptable power source. Sparks seemed to dance at her fingertips, before a bit of electricity seemed to come to her, forming a ball of electric energy in her hand.

Citrine stared at herself, shocked. “How did you know that would work?” she asked, looking at Em. Emerald shrugged and smiled a secret smile that only some would be able to understand. “That’s for me to know and for you to find out.”

Citrine ran over to her and hugged her. “I don’t care how you knew,” she whispered. “I’m just glad that you did.”

Emerald grinned faintly to herself. Her plan had worked perfectly. She had shown Citrine that there was more to life than just powers, and in return the school had sneakily decided to reward Citrine with what she had wanted. She couldn’t believe how clever they were, dressing up one of their teachers and giving him the illegal cube, before stripping Citrine of her old powers and giving her new ones. Emerald stopped musing and looked over at her joyful friend, her small smile growing into a large one.

Citrine now had tears in her amber eyes for the third time that day, except these tears were different.

They were the tears of a joyful person.

Emerald was waiting for her. She hugged Citrine for some time, before finally letting go and inviting her to come in.

Citrine came in Em’s house, marveling at the marble floors that she had seen a thousand times before. “So…” she started.

Emerald shook her head. She couldn’t forget to carry out her plan. “Listen, Citrine. I have a theory.

Remember that sophomore elements class we took together? I remember that sometimes little powers hide big ones. Could you maybe try to…” Emerald paused.

“Try out whatever power that you really really wanted?”

SPRING 2021

21

“Portrait Series” by Lucy Callen, 8th grade

Exceptions to the Rules

by Jori Winfrey, 8th grade

The men stepped back

took off their hats Gestures of respectful attention Those who commit the murders write the reports

The men stepped back

Took off their hats Gestures of respectful attention Lynching bees have become the favorite pastime of the South

The men stepped back

Took off their hats Gestures of respectful attention Kill like wild beasts to protect white womanhood and white childhood

The men stepped back

Took off their hats Gestures of respectful attention Could not dispose of negroes fast enough

The men stepped back

Took off their hats Gestures of respectful attention Without catching the usual disease

The men stepped back

Took off their hats Gestures of respectful attention

22

They want freedom just as you Gestures of respectful attention?

INTERSECTIONS

“My home”

by Charlotte Smith, 6th grade (inspired by “Street Music” by Arnold Adoff) My heart rings at the sound of cars HONK Rumbling in from near and far.

They roar through the night Awaking me with fright.

“Bowed Heads”

by Madison Perkins, 6th grade

Crafted with mighty hands, The water churns as it lands upon the sand Softly lulling me to sleep Who knows what is out in the deep?

Ringing bells Running down the stairwell Finishing class To go home at last.

All of these are home to me Not many more remain after these three But the one where I aged, I am engaged.

For the dog’s barks and the crunching grass and the tall glass of lemonade cooling in the shade.

“Stand”

by Margaret Simmons, 6th grade

As the trains rumble and honk I have no shock For this is my place.

My town My road My home.

“Silky Petals”

by Adelle Pitts, 6th grade

SPRING 2021

I have lived here for only 12 years But it feels like thousands.

It is my everything.

It is me.

23

“Pen”

“Becoming a Peacock”

Pens make endless noise Clickity-clackity Tickety-tackety They never seem to stop Again they sing Chickadee-chackadee Smichadee-Smackadee Until the pen is muzzled Large fingers warped around it The pen is trapped It has no control Slave to the human

The peacock came to me The bird with beautiful feathers Nudged my shirt and I Felt the softness Of the peacock The warm rays of the sun Made him glisten In the light We took a walk In the bright pastures Of grass the greenest green Then the peacock and I Went into the bright forest Together

by Adelle Pitts, 6th grade

by Mac Callen, 6th grade

“Sophie”

by Charlotte Figler, 6th grade

“Cake”

“Wolf! Wolf!”

The cake I chose was better cold And worse when bitter And tastier new than old And it’s delicious, so I’m told Maybe if it’s good I’ll post it on Twitter

Wolf! Wolf! Howling with might In the forests of the night Silhouetted Against the moon Running away, death calls too soon.

by Gemma Park, 6th grade

The red cake is the one And richer than the rest Perhaps I ate a ton Although it was long gone I ate the others as a test

All were equally fair Though the chocolate one was bad These cakes were under my care If thy disappear, I cannot bear But my stomach will be glad

24

Even though I feel full I need some good milk The vanilla was extremely dull I took the carton with a hard pull And the white liquid felt like silk

by Pierson Willse, 6th grade

Why the head held up so high?

Fierce but holding back your cry On what land do you roam?

Why do you choose to be alone?

Why do you growl and fight your way Back to a peaceful room to pray The Hand of god a witness too The truth, your soul’s purest hue.

Wolf! Wolf! Howling with might In the forests of the night Silhouetted Against the moon Running away, death calls too soon.

“Wet Leaves”

by Charlotte Figler, 6th grade

“Debris”

by Margaret Simmons, 6th grade Cleaning up the mess this tornado left Hidden beneath all this debris Something pretty shines from beneath A jewel glistening in this heat.

INTERSECTIONS

“The Jellyfish”

by Annalise Cash, 6th grade Jellyfish, jellyfish! stinging me In the depths of the ocean, you lurk beneath Why do you hold so much pain inside of you?

Your tentacles brush the skin and pain runs through What do you leave behind?

You float away to places that I cannot find Going wherever the water may flow Leaving a trail of cloudy, blue afterglow How were you made?

Your tentacles hit the skin like a blade With an umbrella top and many tentacles underneath You can be up to one-hundred twenty feet!

Do you have predators, do you have prey?

I hope that I am not your prey one day!

Where do you sleep?

What do you eat?

“Frog” by Lucy Callen, 8th grade

Jellyfish, jellyfish! stinging me In the depths of the ocean, you lurk beneath Why do you hold so much pain inside of you?

Your tentacles brush the skin and pain runs through

“Sailboats”

by Jane Cowan, 5th grade I watch the sailboats in the bay, all their worries gone away I watch the seagulls in the sky, sleek white birds that learned to fly so I can’t fly or float or swim, even though I’m watching them but I can talk and walk and run, all those things are so much fun and when the day comes to depart, you’ll always be inside my heart even when you’re gone away, I’ll still be waiting night and day my little sailboat must go far, I hope you follow the right star and when you are feeling so blue, my little sailboat, I love you SPRING 2021

“Dreidel in the Sun”

by Ya’el Amsalem, 8th grade

“Stuck in Two”

by Sophie Hong, 6th grade

25

The poetry on these two pages is inspired by William Carlos Williams.

“it all depends upon”

“A Blade of Grass”

“I Apologize”

it all depends upon it all depends upon

So much depends Upon

I have dyed The dog And given him Defined eyebrows

by Mary Kidd Lindsey, 6th grade

a small toy sitting on the floor of a small child’s room solemnly waiting for a little hand to reach down to play

by Kat Folk, 6th grade

A single blade of Grass From which dew is Collected Under the white Oak

by Liddy McEvoy, 6th grade

And which You will probably Think are Creepy for dogs I apologize They are gorgeous So shaped And so thick.

waiting alone in the dark

“Paint”

by Neely Buntin, 6th grade (inspired by “This Is Just To Say”) I am sorry About the Paint On the rug Brand new Fresh and delicate Creamy white Now more colorful than ever My painting Beautiful and abstract Vivid and unique Worth the disaster

26

“Magnolia” by Campbell Counter, 8th grade

INTERSECTIONS

“A Can of Fat-Free Refried Beans”

by Reed Logan, 6th grade

in the back of the excess food cabinet dwells an ocean blue can of refried beans. sixteen ounces of pure delight, for the lucky one who gets to feast on the can of refried beans.

“unbroken”

“Oh Dragon, Oh Dragon”

behind the big walls

Oh dragon, oh dragon, your fire lights up the night And those claws, those claws, give people a fright In the books, they hate you, they really do.

If only they could know you, the way I do.

by Mary Kidd Lindsey, 6th grade

of the factory lay a lost earring shimmering in shades of jade

fat free the label says, with less than one gram of sugar, in the can of refried beans

it lays unfound

best by december 28 2023, in coal black is stamped on the bottom of the can of refried beans.

to be

and unbroken as i wish

by Niamh Manning, 6th grade

Why must you breathe those deadly flames?

And don’t you know, they’re not playing games?

When they run at you with a sword in hand, just let them live, please let them stand.

Why must you send them to the grave, when they enter your dreary cave?

Why do you grin when your victims perish?

Their yummy flesh, you choose to cherish.

Oh dragon, oh dragon, your fire lights up the night And those claws, those claws, give people a fright.

In the books, they hate you, they really do.

If only they could know you, the way I do.

“My Street”

by Kat Folk, 6th grade

So much Depends upon Birds who sing from treetops, And dogs whose bark sounds like thunder BOOMING In the sky.

So much Depends upon Footsteps POUNDING on the asphalt The sound like a beating drum, and the wind blowing through treetops The sound like the wail of an infant.

So much depends upon My Street.

“False Spring” by Addie Bowen, 7th grade

SPRING 2021

27

“Flame”

An excerpt from United, a novel by Cora Meyer, 6th grade

I need that treat.

I need it.

Come on, treat!

Please?

A little more … there! *Chomp chomp chomp* Mmmm! That was one good treat.

“Flame! You weren’t supposed to eat that treat!”

Evie chides me. Unfortunately for me, she absolutely does not like me. I don’t get why.

Clover is forever giving me treats, and Violet takes me on walks and feeds me.

Evie, Violet, and Clover are my people. Evie is the oldest, but Violet and Clover end up being the ones to take care of me. Their parents were my people too. But one day, they left and never came back. Violet and Clover kept saying something about an airplane and a tornado, but all I knew was that my airplane toy was safe in my toy box.

I scratch at the door and Clover rushes to put her shoes on and go outside with me. She tells me I’m a good boy, which, by the way, I love, and then she gives me the yummiest treat ever! Evie glares at me and Clover, but nobody, not even Evie, can stand in the way of treats!

Clover opens the door and I race out, chasing a squirrel, until it disappears up a tree, which I still have to figure out how to do. She laughs and begins to draw in the sand on the beach with a stick from the yard.

STICK!!!

I run toward Clover and grab the stick in my mouth, ruining her drawing, but Clover doesn’t care. She jumps toward me to grab the stick, but I’m too fast for her.

I run faster than any dog in the world, Violet tells me.

That’s why she and Clover named me Flame. Because of my record running speed, and also because of my flame colored fur.

I run faster than everything in the world. Even light.

Even sound.

28

Though you’d think that I’d be able to catch squirrels since I’m so fast.

And I have, a couple of times.

But those darn squirrels have the tree trick, which I’m hoping to learn how to do one day.

But for now, I chase crabs and lobsters that have washed up from the ocean.

Clover gives up trying to get the stick back, so she decides to look for seashells instead, which I think is a little lame, but I drop the stick now that the game is over and choose to do a little searching myself.

There aren’t many lobsters out today, but there is an abundance of crabs!!

Fortunately, crabs are much slower than squirrels, so with my fast legs I can easily catch one. I run back up to the house and place the crab on the ground there. I love watching the confused crabs scurry back to the ocean.

When the crab gets to the ocean, I pounce on the nearest dog toy. A ball! I rush over to Clover and drop it at her feet. Naturally, she knows what I want and throws it for me. I give a short bark to let that ball know that I’m coming for it and race toward that red ball as if I’m chasing the wind. I catch the ball in midair on the first bounce and bring it back to Clover. She throws it again, and SQUIRREL!!! ...

Sorry, I just had to go chase that squirrel, which got away again no thanks to that tree trick.

“Flame! Dinnertime!” Violet calls.

I just absolutely love dinner.

Well, I have to go eat my dinner!

Bye!

INTERSECTIONS

“A yellow ribbon, A red rose”

by Sophia Baldwin, 8th grade

A yellow ribbon, tied to the trunk of the poplar tree cinched to its rugged bark.

Proud of patriotism, inspired.

Proud of the honor it holds.

Swayed by the wind, but never shifting.

Pelted by the spring rains but never falling.

“Tooth Fairy”

by Lucy Callen, 8th grade

“Pulling Hen’s Teeth”

by Lucy Callen, 8th grade

“Mirror”

by Alice Sparrow, 7th grade Above the vanity, I wait, my back against the wall.

I am the reflection of the starry window on the opposite wall.

Until you drag yourself out of bed, towards me.

You stare, not at me, but your own reflection.

I get the chance to try on your face, Have your movements ripple across my surface.

I can slowly reach for my hairbrush.

I can rub the sleep out of my eyes.

I am you as you start the day.

I watch as you snatch up your bag of cosmetics from its drawer below me.

You change our shared face from one thing to another.

Covering the skin underneath, before carrying on.

After your face has been transformed, I watch as you charge through the door and emerge with your day outfit on.

You shove on a pair of shoes despite their discomfort.

I am you as you leave the room without a second glance, Waiting till you return.

SPRING 2021

A yellow ribbon, still honoring its home.

Gripping the tree, refusing to let go.

Loosened by long summer days, by heat and neglect but far from surrendering, Knowing the consequences.

Afraid to be forgotten.

A yellow ribbon, torn from the tree, lying on the cold autumn ground.

Misshapen under the leaves, crushed by the weight of fall.

No longer the vibrant yellow of spring no longer hopeful but still proud.

Changed by the year’s harsh weather, barely recognizable.

A yellow ribbon, buried under the dirt, nearly forgotten.

Lost among the fallen and the other yellow ribbons never retrieved.

A blood-red rose, stained by the tear of a child blessed by the prayer of a wife, placed upon the soldier’s grave.

A blood-red rose mourning the life lost, the lives changed, and a lifetime of missed memories.

29

“Harbor”

by Ruby Mae Russell, 6th grade Preface There was a tree. A tall oak to be exact. Her branches stretched out to the sky and birds of many feathers would stop to rest their sore wings. And, if trees had names, her name would be Harbor. To anyone who saw the tree, they would only admire the towering branches and the mighty trunk. To them it was just a tree.

Just a plain old tree.

Only one person would know the truth behind the tree. Only one person would look at it with sorrowful eyes.

And, only one person would weep beneath its branches.

30

There was a warm breeze in the air on a bright Saturday morning. It was December 6, 1941, and Honolulu, Hawaii was full of vibrant color, sun, and joy. But, there was a hint of tension in the air. A war was raging throughout the world, and of course there was tension in the air. Most of that tension, however, was hanging over a certain young woman named Marguerite Sanders. Soft brown curls outlined her face and dark hazel eyes glimmered in the sunlight. The sound of her clicking heels echoed down an empty street as she headed to the harbor. She had awoken with a start that morning and could not fall back asleep, so she decided to begin her day. It always began with a visit to her fiancé who worked as a sailor in the U.S. Navy. The sound of the surf crashing onto the beach was music to Marguerite’s ears. Ever since she was little, she had always loved the ocean: the calming color, peaceful sounds, and the joy that surrounded it. Families laughing together, children squealing in delight as they ran from the waves, yes, there was much joy around the ocean. And love. There was most definitely love. A smile broke onto Marguerite’s lips as she saw the boats in Pearl Harbor. Up on a ship called the U.S.S. UTAH was her fiancé, Mason Whitley. When he saw her, his face lit up with joy. He was about to run down to see Marguerite, but his captain forcefully reminded him he was still on duty. Giving her a wavering smile, he walked back to the bow of the ship. Slowly waving goodbye, Marguerite

turned down the road.

Walking two more blocks, she stopped at a small fish market. It was divided into three main sections: one for smaller fish, one for bigger fish, and one for oysters and clams. Though small, it had every saltwater fish there was — tuna, sardines, cod and so on.

Everything was fresh, nothing was more than a day old.

“Ah, Ms. Marguerite, you have come back!” said an old, wrinkledface lady. She wore a long, green dress that made her dancing caramel eyes pop.

“How could I ever resist the taste of your oyster dressing, Mrs. Danielo?” laughed Marguerite. She had the loveliest laugh. It was like a thousand windchimes singing in a summer breeze.

“You are quite right my dear; it is the best in all of Hawaii,” she chuckled. “There you are child. Now, run along! I feel something brewing. Something brewing…”

Her voice trailed off into a distant whisper as she headed back into her stall. Her words made Marguerite worry. There was a war. America was not yet involved, but only time would tell if they were going to join. Yes, yes.

Only time will tell.

All is calm. All is quiet in Honolulu. It is the morning of December 7, 1941. Marguerite Sanders was just waking up when she heard a soft humming. She only let herself pay attention to it for about ten seconds before she dismissed it. It is 7:30.

Steam rose from her plate piled with bacon and eggs.

The buzzing is louder this time. It is 7:42.

Marguerite has just finished getting dressed. There is a sound, not a buzzing, not a rumble, but a roar. It is 7:45.

Marguerite’s heels clacking on the cement are barely heard over the roaring. But, what is roaring? Marguerite looks up and gets her answer. There are about ten dark planes heading towards Pearl Harbor. They are Japanese.

It is 7:53.

Marguerite is scared, worried, confused, and angry.

The jets are almost to the harbor. The harbor. Then the INTERSECTIONS

first torpedo drops into the water with a splash. The first of many ships goes up in flames. It is 7:55.

There are more planes and torpedoes. There are louder splashes. The sea is angry. There is more fire. No not fire; flames! It is an inferno, a firestorm. It is no longer calm and quiet in Honolulu. No one is asleep. There is no color except for red. Only red. Screams replace music; smoke replaces the sun; and infinite terror replaces joy.

Marguerite with many others runs. But, there is nowhere to run. There are only flames and madness. So much madness. A man yells the U.S.S. UTAH is down. It was the first to go.

“Mason,” Marguerite whispers, tears welling in her eyes, “MASON!” Now buildings go up in flames. There are wails, screams, and the screeching of plane engines. Marguerite runs.

She does not look back. Her world has been drained of everything. No happiness, no love, and no joy. No joy.

“He is gone,” Marguerite tells herself as she runs, “And I didn’t even say goodbye.”

Epilogue In the year of 1942, a young woman moved to the farmlands of England. The first thing she did was plant a tree. She worked on her hands and knees digging in the dirt to make it look beautiful. Years passed and the tree grew. Her branches stretched out to the sky and birds of many feathers would stop to rest their sore wings. At the crack of dawn, the girl would sit beneath its limbs.

She would read, sing, talk, and cry. Sometimes she cried below the tree all day and night. If a person looked closely enough, they would see a metal plate nailed into the wood that read: Here lies Mason Whitley.

May we all remember the sacrifice brave men like him made.

Tree’s name: Harbor There was a tree, there was a girl, a man, a day, and many sacrifices.

Honor those who endured the pain and experienced the attack of Pearl Harbor. December 7, 1941.

“Fall Flowers”

by Reika Nakagawa, 8th grade

“Hello, Gorgeous”

by Evelyn Watlington, 7th grade

“In Between!”

by Margaret Simmons, 6th grade

Story of a Dandelion

The Birth of a Flower

The dandelion sways In the warm lush green meadow Sweet yellow petals

A flower blossoms The song of nature singing Joy all around us

A Haiku

by Adelle Pitts, 6th grade

SPRING 2021

A Haiku

by Adelle Pitts, 6th grade

31

“The Worst Day Ever”

“Blurry Face”

by Madi Chandler, 8th grade

by Sophie O’Keefe, 7th grade

The thunder roars through the sky and my alarm beeps with an awaking screech. I leaped out of my soft, cozy bed into the cool, crisp air in my bedroom. I wrestled on my old school uniform that itches and scratches every second, and I stumbled down the dark hallway.

I made my way to the kitchen and in front of my eyes was burned, crispy toast and old squishy grapes waiting for me on the counter that my mom must have left for me before she went to work. I ate what I could of the toast and suddenly remembered what was awaiting in the future. The end-of-the-year math test. I rushed up to my room, tripping on my tired, slow feet. I grabbed my books and tried to find the unfinished study guide that was supposed to be completed last night. I looked up at the clock with the bright numbers shining in my eyes, and I ran out the door, so I would not be late.

When I finally got to school, I walked in the large, overwhelming building, looking like a little baby trying to walk around with no sense of direction. I figured out my way to the room where I was assigned to take my math test. The room was not the happy, cheerful room I had grown up learning in. The room was dark, bare walls and the white boards were wiped clean. Walking through the door, I could hear the fear from other students and see the panic throughout the room. The bell of the first class boomed through the classroom, and everyone slowly settled to their seats for the next two hours, quickly glancing around to see if they could sneak a peek of the test. The papers were all passed out and the sound of the teacher’s over–emphasized, peppy voice chirped, “Start and Good Luck!”

Looking down I saw the problems that looked like they were written in a different language. I stared at the page full of numbers and wished I could just go home and skip this test. I must begin, I told myself so I answered the questions, some more confidently than others. Just as the teacher’s startling voice called “Time!” I looked up at the clock, knowing that I finished just in time. I walked up to the teacher’s desk and waited in a short line to hand in my test, there was a whole back page that my pencil did not even touch! I had no time left so I was forced to turn in the test with the blank page. I felt a nervous feeling in my stomach, and I even wondered if I was going to be sick because I had never turned in something incomplete!

I tried my best to forget about the test for the rest of the day, and finally time for lunch arrived. I had hoped we would have pizza, but of course we did not. We had stuffed mushrooms. Everyone knows mushrooms are the WORST thing for lunch. I then reached in my backpack 32

hoping for a delicious snack, but I did not see the snacks.

I realized that I had left my snacks on the counter from being in such a rush this morning. I silently acknowledged that lunch was not great, this morning was bad, but school was halfway over.

As the last bell of the day rang I thought to myself I had made it through the rest of the day and finally this long, never-ending day was coming to an end. I walked to my car and was in shock. My new, clean, shiny car was covered in dirt. There was not just a little dirt it was everywhere! On the windows, on the door, and even on the roof. I looked down and saw a long line of dirt tracks, my eyes followed the tracks and they landed on a big truck. I saw the truck was filled to the top with dirt. The bumps in the road must have caused the dirt to fly out of the top of the truck and onto my car. I did the best I could to clean off the dirt and drove along the pavement and out of school grounds.

When I finally got home, I did my homework as speedily as possible and rushed downstairs to help with dinner.

I heaved out a large pot and filled it to the top with hot, steaming water. I walked slowly trying not to spill the water, but that did not work. Before I knew it, the pot was lying on the ground and there was water everywhere. I cleaned up the mess, which put me in an even worse mood, and I ate my awful dinner of boiled brussel sprouts and chicken with my family. I could not wait for the day to be over.

Wanting nothing but this day to be over, I prepared my shower and hopped in. The water was warm I thought, but it was not warm at all, it was freezing cold! I scrambled to the faucet to change the temperature and the water finally became warm, but I still was only thinking about how this was just another example of how bad of a day this has been.

I finished getting ready for bed, and thought to myself this day has finally come to an end. I laid down with all the crazy thoughts of the day running through my head, and I closed my eyes and was just hoping tomorrow would be a better day, because this truly was the worst day ever.

The next morning the sun was shining brightly through the clear, glass windows as I awoke. I checked the clock and it said 11? I could not be reading that right. I looked again — 11! My alarm never went off and school started three hours ago.

I rushed to get ready and I just hoped today would be a better day than yesterday.

INTERSECTIONS

“Girl with Umbrella”

by Audrey Harris, 5th grade

“Secrets Disappearing Through Brick”

by Margaret Moore, 7th grade

“Nashville Nights” by Niamh Manning, 6th grade

Educating young women to think critically, to lead confidently, and to live honorably.

The Harpeth Hall School | 3801 Hobbs Road | Nashville, TN 37215 | 615-297-9543 | HarpethHall.org