Spring 2020
Contents Editor’s Note
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Amelja’s Birds by Addie Vallier
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Hummingbird by Ethan Taylor
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Memories by Kennedy Graham
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A Covid-19 Easter by Katie Glasford
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Ice. by Mia Gansen
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Portals (cover) by Paige Hammond
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Protected by Brenna Oxley
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Winter Nature by Hannah Mayfield
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The Gay Son by Tyler Gregory
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School Spirit by Chloe Gerardy
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The Wood Burning by Zoe Davis
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Far Off Mountains by Kennedy Dresslaer
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Before the Action by Alyssa Barker
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Rainbow Jays by Alyah Craig
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My Only Chance Left by Kennedy Dresslaer
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Editor’s Note Dear Liberty High School, Welcome to the first edition of LHS’ first creative magazine. Kintsugi was founded to celebrate and uplift the young writers and artists of our community. Although we faced unexpected challenges in the face of the COVID-19 pandemic, we persevered, because we believe art in all forms is more important now than ever. "Kintsugi" is a Japanese word referring to the art of repairing broken pottery using gold lacquer, turning the broken pieces into something more beautiful than before. The goal of the art is to show and honor the object's history, and to visibly incorporate the object's repair into its design rather than hiding it. Kintsugi is a perfect name to represent the creatives of our LHS community, because it shows the power of art to heal, glorify and transform even in the face of tragedy. We are beyond happy to bring this magazine to you during these times. It is filled with beautiful stories, poems, artwork and photography to inspire you, move you and make you think.
I’m so proud of our LHS creative community and the wonderful art we create. The world will always need artists - they will always be essential to people’s hearts, minds and spirits. I am incredibly grateful that my vision for this magazine has become reality. I want to thank several people for their support and dedication. The first is Dr. Adams, who was the first person to believe in what I saw as a crazy idea. Thank you for being the boost I needed to really launch this thing. The second is our staff, who worked enthusiastically and optimistically even throughout these difficult times of solely-virtual communication. The third is Mrs. Oyler, who allowed us to co-opt a bit of newspaper space - thank you! And finally, of course I have to thank Mr. Gehrlein, our sponsor, who has done so much to see Kintsugi to the finish. Thank you for supporting Kintsugi. I hope you enjoy our first edition, and see you next year! P.S.: if you’re interested in taking part in the creation of Kintsugi in the future, let me know!
Addison Riley Vallier
Staff Sponsor: Mr. Gehrlein Editor-in-Chief: Addison Vallier Marketing Team: Chloe Morgan Rachel Reiter Short Fiction Editors: Natalie Kessler Blake Kroening Chloe Morgan Sophia Rakestraw
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Poetry Editors: Rachel Reiter Kennedy Graham Jade Garbani Photography Editors: Bella Cordero Hannah Mayfield Art Editors: Grace Goll Brittney Werbe Director of Design: Addison Langhorst
Amelja’s Birds by Addie Vallier i. 1946 Bare feet by the water;’ skirt swirling ; electricity pulses through my s k i n her m i dn i g h t curls her eyes like living water sweetly satisfies my thirst Selina unfolds her hands, revealing an infant bird trembling in her palms. The air is saturated with the scent of clean water. Beneath a violent orange sky, reeds bend and sway, tickling the tips of my fingers. The mud is cool and the river is clear. I want nothing more than t h i s; this moment. The bird ruffles his feathers, blinks doelike brown eyes, bobs his delicate head; but doesn’t try to fly. “Wo hast du ihn gefunden?” I ask in German. Where did you get him? “Estaba junto al río,” she answers in Spanish. “Parecía enfermo.” I’ve learned Selina only speaks Spanish, her native tongue, when she’s sad. Otherwise, she prefers the harsher cough of German. She feels safer behind it’s barb-wire and walls. “Er ist schön.” I reach out and stroke his river-wet down, feel his heartbeat, his breath, his body quivering beneath my fingertips. Sofragile a creature. Er ist schön… he is beautiful. He was a baby wood duck with bright eyes and yellow face. He was not the first of my birds, and he would not be the last. I named him Klaus.
ii. 1942 We love to die underneath a slice of blue sky; no b e a u t y left to find; charcoal smoke and e m p t y souls are terrible disguises The German unfolds a paper. “Amelja Nadzieja Ferber?” I nod mutely. The air is black and slimy like oil. So is he. His eyes are cold, the ice that shrouds Zalepie in December. I know I am everything they hate; Polish, Romá, Jew. I meet his gaze with mine, Aryan blue combatting Mischling gray-brown. A brutal battle. He looks away. I win. But not forever. Victory is his in the end, because I’m still here. I hid as long as I could back in Zalepie. I tore the yellow star from my clothes; it felt like betrayal, tasted like sin, but what it really was was survival. I dyed my Romá-dark curls Hitler’s favorite blonde, and I retreated to the attic of my favorite teacher, Doktor Kowalcyzk. I lived there for a month, surviving off spare bread crusts and shame, until Mrs. Kowalcyzk, anxious for her children, ordered the good Doktor to send me away. Therefore a grand performance was staged, in which Mrs. dragged me out of her house by the ear, spitting and howling. “Jak śmiesz najeżdżać nasz dom,” she screamed. How dare you invade our home. And for the benefit of the German’s poised ear, she shouted in their language, “Jüdischer abschaum!” Jewish scum. I played along, for her sake, and for Doktor’s too. I pretended I was a vagrant who trespassed their attic without invitation. I absolved them of all blame.
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And all this while her words still rang in my ears.Worthless, rat-girl, pond-scum. Jew. Now, here I stand, chimneys looming, smoke leaking from their gaping mouths. The sky is a shuddery gray, but more frighteningly, the people here are h o l lo w. I stare without meaning to at their gaunt faces, their haunted eyes, the way their hip bones curve against their skin. They are empty. So, soon, will I be. In the distant sky a bird cries. I look up; up, away from the horror that waits for me. In the sky, you can be free. I wish I was a bird. The bird is a crow, black and slick and beautiful. I know it’s impossible, but in this moment, miles below, I feel as if I meet her eyes. I smile for the first time in days. I name her Andezelika. iii. 1920 Heart radiates with strange light; sun catching the fabric of the caravan ; this moment forbidden, Isopel unfolds her heart to him. His name is Otto, a German-Polish Jew; she is fifteen and a Romá, wandering the Polish countryside. He is reeling from recent heartbreak; she has never loved anyone before. Both of them are wondering what l o v e means. Ten years will pass, and they will learn. First, Isopel will leave. She will leave her family, her people, her faith; but mostly her music. She will become someone’s wife. She will settle in a village called Zalepie, and she will trade her tongue-clacking and hand-clapping for classical piano. She will do all this, because she loves him, with a force that both scares and astounds her. Otto doesn’t give up much. He stays put, comfortable and hopeful. He teaches his wife to celebrate Chanukah, because although he never cared much for Jewish tradition before, now he is a family man. Now he understands God-as-Father, in a way he never did.
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Isopel will conceive. She will feel as beautiful as the Virgin Mary, as holy too. She will believe wholeheartedly in the sacredness of motherhood. She will grow rosy as a flower in spring. He will bloom, too, in the months that pass. And suddenly, beautifully, Isopel will give birth. She will give birth to a girl named Amelja in a little room with one husband, one bed, one cage and two birds. Little parakeets whose song are the first things Amelja hears. Amelja will grow older and stronger with those birds and those lovers by her side, a delighted-upon only child, a girl who is loved, a girl who b e l o n g s. The birds never get a name. Amelja just calls them Girl and Boy. And then, everything changes. The yellow stars appear on their clothes, and Otto runs. He leaves them behind, quivering in Switzerland, and Isopel gets sick and dies of a broken heart. Suddenly, Amelja -- I -- am alone. Alone in an attic, I wish I’d named my birds. iiii. 2005 Death’s face glows as the sun; he smiles at me today ; i’ve been waiting, for so l o n g i am o l d my memories disjointed still, i am sad to go Death unfolds my story, line by line. He doesn’t look at all like I expected. He is gentle and wearing white. He carries a dove. He recounts my parent’s unlikely romance, my childhood and my joyful adolescence. My pretty parakeets, and my flings with every boy in town. He remembers my days in Dachau, driven mad by starvation, disease and cruelty. The only thing sustaining me was my imagined friendship with the crow that haunted my barracks.
He recalls Klaus. Klaus and Selina. I lived with Selina for five years after the war. We were both shattered; she was a Romá who survived Dachau, as did I. Together we wandered a broken Germany, watching from a distance as a people struggled to rebuild. We rebuilt our own souls, too. We raised Klaus the wood duck as our own child. Then a bobcat attacked Klaus, and he was gone. Selina was too fragile, and within a year she had withered and died, despite my best attempts to save her. He smiles as he talks of my grief-racked journey to America, where I’d live out the rest of my days alone with only a canary named Grace. I did not waste these years, though. I wrote books -I wrote poems. I shared my words, my heart, my treasure with the world. And so, I was never truly alone.
“You lived well,” Death says. “Your heart is free as a bird’s.” He grins. “My daughter, I’ve been waiting a long time to give you the gift, you have well-deserved.” He brings forth a golden cage, filled with birds. Bright-feathered Boy and Girl, soft-eyed Klaus, clever Andezelika, musical Grace, and the unfamiliar dove. He opens the cage and releases them. They fly to me on lovely wings, cover my age-ridden body. I feel young and alive again. They nestle in the crook between my neck and chest, roost in my snow-white hair. They are beautiful, and their song is the last thing I hear. Their song, and Death. He says, “Amelja, heaven is full of birds.”
Hummingbird by Ethan Taylor
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Memories by Kennedy Graham The house has always smelled Of sun worn stone Of baked clay And once The house echoed With the happy voices Of family gathered The children Running across the tile Of the sunroom Watching motes of dust Suspended On the sunbeams That warmed them Playing Hide And Seek Panting from Running Across the rock gardens Backs pressed against the rough stucco Of the walls Laying on the floor A paper filled with designs For the treehouse They swore they’d build Once they had the money For Devils Snare The adults Laughing in the kitchen Family always bumping into each other Birthdays Easter Stories told Late at night Great-Grandmothers With tales of purple witches And their lavender castles And now Now There is only the
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Echos Of the memories The house Is kept dark now But it still smells Of sun-worn stone Of baked clay Of so many Happy days And the great-grandmother Sits In what was Her husbands rocking chair As one By One The memories return Children Grown now High schoolers No longer Building tree houses Adults Still telling stories But quiet The laughter Gone One By One To say Goodbye
A COVID-19 Easter by Katie Glasford
Ice. by Mia Gansen Ice. Pounding on the walls No one can hear me Throwing myself around No one can see me Locked up inside No one can feel me I’m losing this fight everyday. Can you not hear me? When I cry out your name They are to blame Please, that isn’t me Can you not see me? They chained me here Making everything unclear You know the real me
Just let me go free When you aren’t around They say scary things to me When I’m bruised and broken They touch and squeeze me. When my tears fall They haunt and taunt me I’m losing this fight everyday. Can you not hear me? When I cry out your name They are to blame Please, that isn’t me Can you not see me? They chained me here Making everything unclear You know the real me Just let me go free The real me Will soon lie dead inside Leaving nothing but an outer shell Made of all the hell they put me through You and only you Know the real me.
Portals by Paige Hammond
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Protected by Brenna Oxley Winter Nature by Hannah Mayfield
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The Gay Son by Tyler Gregory The gay son was nothing different. The gay son just wanted to be loved the same way. The gay son wanted to wear makeup and clothing guys don’t usually wear Without the feeling of being judged…. The gay son couldn’t take gay jokes that the other kids made anymore… The gay son wanted to feel accepted The gay son went to school every day with a fake smile on his face, Hiding all the sadness that was bottled up... The gay son hated that sad feeling. The gay son had fake friends but he couldn’t see it. But that mattered most to him was the true friends he had. The gay son liked different things that normal teenage boys didn’t. The gay son never apologized for who he was as a person. The gay son had tears in his eyes every night from what others had said to him the day before. The gay son wanted to inspire others. The gay son wanted to share his story but never had time. The gay son is now writing his story with no regrets.
School Spirit by Chloe Gerardy
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The Wood Burning by Zoe Davis I rushed around my apartment, trying to stuff things that were necessary and valuable to me into my duffel bag. Unlike the pictures of Britt and I framed on my wall. I grabbed clothes, a pair of Nike tennis shoes, a hairbrush, toothbrush, toothpaste, and my engagement ring. A photo of Britt and I on our god-awful wedding day and my stuffed animal bear, which I called Freddy. My mother had gone to New Mexico this past summer and brought me back some delightful Spanish candy and a stuffed bear with a big red heart on its stomach, which now laid beside my new crisp white bed sheets. I had to get new ones last week because Britt had left a beer stain on the ones we had before. I sighed and checked for anything else that I would need while I was gone, tearing my eyes away from the bedside table, I looked at myself in the mirror. My dirty blonde hair splaying out onto my shoulders and my honey-toned skin shining in the sunlight. Making my way to the kitchen, I grabbed many snacks and drinks for the long journey ahead of me. Mostly bags of chips, a few sandwiches I made last night, and water bottles I had frozen in the freezer. Some beers and whiskey bottles had been left on the counter by Britt and his friends. What the hell? He can’t even clean up after himself! I thought while shoving the last of my food into a big black duffel bag I had kept hidden in the closet since Friday. Finishing up, I heard a loud roar of a motorcycle coming down the road. Oh no! It’s Britt. Shuffling my black converse onto my feet. I raced towards the front door and shuffled my way out. Going down the steps, my eyes widened at the thought of tripping and Britt getting to me. Getting up, I raced towards my Red Chevrolet, unlocking the door, I quickly threw myself and the duffel bag inside.
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The loud rumble had stopped suddenly and loud footsteps flooded my ears. I quickly slammed my door and locked it in a panicky rush! “OPEN THE DOOR LINA!!” a voice I knew too well screamed. He started banging on the window with his fists, leaving tiny cracks in the window. Screaming, I turned my head to look at him, tears fought to leave my eyes. “No..NO, I am done with your crap Britt, I have been through hell and back for you. Doing everything right so you wouldn’t hurt me as you promised. But these marks say otherwise. I. AM. DONE!” I fumed. Putting on my seat belt, I began to back out of the driveway. Before I could race off, Britt’s voice urgently shouted, “LINA… baby, I’m sorry. I… it won’t happen again. I promise!” Fumbling with my words, I decided it wasn’t worth it to stay and end up with broken ribs and a bruised body as soon I opened the car door. Stepping on the gas and putting my car in drive. I raced off towards the Rainforest where I would finally let go of all my problems. Taking the highway towards the airport. Arriving at the airport, I started shaking with fear of Britt finding me. I had booked my flight two weeks ago, The night after Britt left bruises on me for making the wrong type of steak for him. It’s amazing how the difference between medium and rare steak can lead you all the way to the airport. Trying to escape your monster of a husband. I proceeded to speed walk towards Gate #4 to board my flight to the Amazon Rainforest. I have been wanting to go back to the Amazon since I was little. When I had just turned 10, my father announced that he and I were taking a trip to the spectacular Amazon to hunt for little creatures like the Brown-headed Streaked Lizard and the common House Gecko. For ten straight hours, all I could think about was the guilt I had for leaving him. I wanted to start a new life. In a new state with new people. But the attention he would sometimes give me, gave me hope that he would get better. He didn’t though. ‘Ding ding ding ding ding’, snapping out of my trance, the soft bell chimed. Warning us that it was time to exit the airplane and go to our destination. I grabbed my duffel bag and headed towards the main street. Where a taxi would pick me up and take me to my destination.
“HEY...HEY, YOU...TAXI!” I babbled, waving over a small yellow taxi. Getting in, I thanked the driver and began to tell him my destination. I stayed quiet most of the time, politely answering some questions he had asked. “Alright ma’am, the total would add up to $250.00 even,” The taxi driver said cautiously. I sat there confused about the price. “Ma’am, there is no way I will allow you to pay me $400.00 for a 2-hour ride. Especially if you are heading into the Amazon with nothing but a duffel bag,” He reassured looking over at my bag. I gave him a warm smile and continued to say, “thank you” over and over again. As I got out of the taxi I looked back at the taxi driver and waved goodbye before heading into the Amazon Rainforest. A feeling of fear filled my body. I had come to the Amazon Rainforest to get rid of my fear, to get rid of him. I thought about turning back and heading back home to my ‘Oh so lovely’ husband. Britt was an amazingly attractive guy that was 6’1 with the strength of a bull on steroids, which he used on me most of the time. He and I were known as the perfect couple. The couple that fell in love instantly, but no one had seen what’s going on behind the curtains. He used to love me like no other had loved me before, but now… now he’d rather lie about where he was, saying he was
having a night out with the boys. Not a night with a girl hooked onto him like a leech, she can have him though. He isn’t my problem anymore. I pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a match I had kept in my back pocket. Throwing the match onto the forest floor. Inhaling the cigarette smoke, I trudged on towards the rocky depths of a cliff about three hours from where I was dropped off. A few hours later, I came across a truck that had crashed into a tree. Gas leaking from its engine. Glancing around for any injured people, I shuddered in fear and looked towards a sign that mentioned the forested cliff in Chapada, a few hundred feet away with a sign that warned me that the cliff would be very rocky and unstable. I took a few cautious steps towards the cliff, throwing out my cigarette and watched the birds and animals run around freely through the terrain for a few minutes. It looks so peaceful here. No one to yell in your ear about how you were worthless or just a piece of gum stuck on someone’s shoe. No one can force you on your knees. Making you clean the hardwood floor with a really old sponge and a bucket of cold soapy water. Now I know what Cinderella felt like without her prince charming. But in this case, my evil stepmother is my husband.
Far Off Mountains by Kennedy Dresslaer
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Leaning my body against a tree that was growing by the edge of the cliff. I lifted my bag off of the ground. I took a few deep breaths and tore through my bag with my eyes shut. Feeling the smooth, crinkly edge of the plastic bag, I wrapped my hand around it and pulled it out. Opening my eyes to see, I untied the knot that held all my worries. Plucking out the picture of Britt and I at our wedding, my engagement ring, my half empty cigarette pack, and matches. I tore the thick layers of the picture apart into tiny pieces quickly, while getting out my last match and lighting it on the side of the matchbox. Making sure the pieces of the picture were in flames. I threw the lit pieces of our pictures off the cliff and hoped they would sink to the bottom of the river that was right below the Chapada’s edge. Wincing at the slight pain in my abdomen. I lifted up my right arm which was holding the Engagement ring. Please just go away. I don’t need these feelings of hate, confusion, guilt, anxiety, anger and so much more inside of me anymore. You were..no you ARE a monster. I hate you. I hate you so much. Lifting up my arm over the edge, I dropped the ring and listened to the soft plink of the metal. I stayed in the same spot, in the same position for several moments, savoring the sound of the ring bounce to the bottom. Lowering my arm and sinking down against the tree. Hot tears bubbled in my eyes, threatening to spill out at any second. No no no, why am I crying? I should be happy. Bringing my knees up and into my chest. I sobbed there quietly. My crying abruptly stopped when I smelled a faint scent of wood burning. I lifted up my head. Straining to see through my blurry eyes and locked eyes with something in front of me. Making out a few bright colors in front of me, I widened my eyes and gulped looking at the fire that blazed and spread throughout the area in front of me, threatening me to come closer!
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I scrambled to my feet, Rubbing my puffy eyes with my hands, hoping I was just crazy and out of my mind. I stared at the igniting flames in front of me, trying to find a way out of this forest. Oh no! I didn’t bring my map and I have no service! I slipped the heavy duffel bag off my shoulder. Making it faster to run far from the fire and out of this damn forest. Running towards a tree stump that was not yet ignited into flames. I tried to zig-zag my way through the trees that were not yet lit, but managed to slip and fall onto the ground. I screamed and jolted up into a sitting position, My heart leaping out of my chest in the process. Rapidly turning my head from side to side I looked for the fire, I was surprised to see that I wasn’t in the Amazon anymore, but in a room with nothing but a mirror and a big burgundy colored dresser in it. Not even a bathroom or a closet. Where am I? Did I pass out after the fire? Did someone find me? Well duh someone found me. But I don’t know where I am! Questions ran through my head at lightning speed. I continued to look around the room, slipping my feet from out of the covers, I felt the rough fingertips of someone's hand wrap around my wrist and dig their fingertips of someone's hand wrap around my wrist and dig their fingernails into my skin. “Lay back down darling. Go back to sleep” Someone's deep voice growled beside me. I knew that voice too well. I sat with my body facing the wall, the hair on my arms rising as the fear of having Britt right beside me enveloped my mind and my body froze and went rigid. It was a dream! It was a bloody dream!! “NOW I SAID!!...please Lina baby” Britt’s voice growled with anger and desperation. Oh no... I was back in my personal hell, once again. With my engagement ring wrapped loosely around my ring finger. I slowly laid back down, arms like vines wrapping around me once again. Holding me in a tight grip. It was all a dream. A dream I wanted so badly to come alive. A dream that was my escape. My only escape.
Before the Action by Alyssa Barker Rainbow Jays by Alyah Craig
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My Only Chance Left by Kennedy Dresslaer I pull my suitcase close to me and put on my backpack while an announcement blares overhead, “New York City train leaving in five minutes, on Dock Three.” Once the announcement has ended, it seems like hundreds of people walk towards the dock. My anxiety levels start to rise, I never realized how busy it is down here. In reality there's probably a couple hundred people walking, some holding briefcases, some holding coffee, some crying. There’s one lady who particularly stands out to me. She’s what looks like seven-ish months pregnant, crying while the toddler next to her screams. She’s waving to a man getting on a train headed to Houston, Texas. He’s one with a briefcase, not crying, just smiling and waving to his screaming toddler. That was my dad when I was younger. I find it funny how much I see my old life in happy families and how much I see my life now in crumbling families, because that’s my family. We’re a big crumbling cookie, with pieces falling down, down, down. My attention snaps up when my mom says, “That’s the train.” I can’t believe it's finally time to leave. I’ll definitely miss the town, my somewhat of friends, but I won’t miss him. My mom readjusts her grip on my sleeping sister as we walk towards the line in front of our train. I watch as strangers get on, most waving goodbye to friends and family, before disappearing into the train. Now the pregnant lady is no longer in sight. I hope she’s okay. As the line shortens, and were closer to the train, my mom hands me Callie and her bag. “What are you doing? It’s almost our turn to get on.” She’s probably running for a last minute bathroom break, she always does that. Drove my dad crazy. “I’m not going Vanessa.” She looks at me, her eyes full of tears. At first I think she’s joking, maybe just messing with me. “Mom, that’s crazy. Get on the train.”
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“I’m really not going. It’ll be safer this way, he won’t be able to find you.” Wait, she’s serious? This can’t be happening. “I’m not leaving you! We've been planning this for weeks. He has no idea.” Now we're both crying, with this she takes a step away from the platform. “He found me once, he’ll do it again. Get on that train.” The lines getting shorter, I’m getting closer to the train. I can’t leave her here. ‘I can’t just leave you. What about Callie?” I beg. Anything that will get her on this train. I’m not going without her. “You’re seventeen, you can take care of her until I can get there. I’m trusting you here. Marcus will pick you two up. Your dad has no idea that Marcus lives in New York.” “Please, mom. Come with us!” I can’t do this, not without my mom. “I love you. I’ll call when I know I’m safe.” With that she backs away, and I’m at the front of the line. I look over my shoulder as I climb the steps into the train. My mom’s sobbing, looking at us. “Go” she mouths, “Please.” We get into our seats, tears streaming down my face. Callie’s still out like a light. The train pulls off and another announcement blares overhead, but I don’t care enough to listen. I just sit there, unable to move. I do this for what seems like hours. Outside the window my hometown passes by, everything I’ve ever known, gone just like that. I can’t believe what’s happening. Eventually, I find myself opening Netflix on my computer, plugging in my headphones and choosing my favorite movie. Suddenly my phone pings with a text message. It’s from my mom. Vanessa, I love you so much. Your father would find me if I went with you. Take care of Callie for me. You two are my world and I’m sorry that I’ve endangered you for the past few years. I’m taking a train at nine tonight, away from here and away from you two. I hope that I’ll be able to see you soon. Stay safe and stay strong.
With this the tears start again, I don’t know what to say back except that I love you too. I look over at Callie, asleep against the window and I know that she made the right choice. Even if I don’t want to believe it, I know she did. It quickly turns to night and blankets are being passed around to the other passengers. I pull out a snack from my bag, not wanting to leave Callie to go get something fresh. The other passengers are coming back with hot food from the diner train car, most chatting with each other, smiling. Even though I know I could join them, I just sit there in my seat, watching Iron Man, hoping my brain will shut up for the night. I’m tired of thinking of my mom, my dad, and my new life in New York with Uncle Marcus. All of it is just too much. I wake up to another announcement, “We are just now crossing into Pennsylvania, stop 12 will be in thirty minutes.” I look down at my ticket stub. It takes a minute for my sleepy eyes to focus on the small print. But when it finally does, I see that our stop is 17. I check my phone. It's midnight, almost everyone around me is asleep. It's so peaceful, back at home this was the only time that was peaceful. Any other time would either have my dad drinking, partying, or my parents fighting. It used to be better, back when I was younger. We tried to leave in the beginning when Callie was really young, but my dad found out and just followed us there. Afterwards he tried to be better, but it didn’t last long. By the time Callie was three, he was back to being his old self. Which is why only Callie and I are leaving now. I look over at her, and she’s slowly waking up. She’s done this almost every night since my parents big fight when she was four and a year later it still happens. “Ve? Mommy?” she mumbles in her sleepy voice.
“She’s not here right now, Cal. But we’ll see her soon.” With that she lays her head on my lap, and falls back asleep. Some nights are long with her and some are short. Thank god tonight is a short one, I don’t think I could deal with a long one with everything going on. Slowly listening to Callie’s deep, long, breaths I fall asleep. “Attention, we are approaching stop 17. Stop 17.” I bolt up, and shake Callie awake. I grab my computer and shove it back into my bag and put Callie’s stuffed animals she got out in the night away while the train comes to a stop. I pick Callie up, and grab my suitcase from above. “Vanessa! Over here!” I hear as we step off the train. I look across the platform to see my uncle, dressed in a Yankee’s ball cap, Starbucks in hand. We are definitely in New York City. Clutching Callie closer to me, I draw in a deep breath. I just hope I’ll be strong enough to get through this, knowing it's my only chance left.
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