The Lone Star State Tara Stenger
The Lone Star State Tara Stenger
The Lone Star State, Tara Stenger The Literary Arts Department Pittsburgh CAPA 6-12, A Creative and Performing Arts Magnet  
CopyrightŠ 2019 Pittsburgh CAPA 6-12, A Creative and Performing Arts Magnet Pittsburgh, PA The copyright to the individual pieces remains the property of each individual. Reproduction in any form by any means without specific written permission from the individual is prohibited. For copies or inquiries: Pittsburgh CAPA 6-12 Literary Arts Department Mara Cregan 111 Ninth Street Pittsburgh, PA 15222 mcregan1@pghschools.org Ms. Melissa A. Pearlman, Principal  
Table of Contents Swept Away Texas When I Leave Trying to Connect 25 Things you Have yet to Realize Tea Party Pig Face The New Extravagant Teaching my Mother How to be a Mom
The Lone Star State The young girl traveled all through the night from the city that never sleeps to the Lone Star State. Her father drove while she counted the stars from the backseat. Her younger sister sat next to her, unaware of how impactful their journey to a new state, their new home, could be. The young girl’s father noticed her excitement and warned her that the house wasn't going to be marvelous since it likely wasn't permanent. She payed no attention to the warning, instead she preferred to picture the home in the middle of a magical forrest. She gazed starry-eyed out of the window, twirling locks of hair between her fingers as she imagined mushrooms the size of trees sprouting from the earth, surrounding her house. She drifted into a deep slumber with the excitement of the wonderland on her mind. The family arrived at their new home hours later, waking the young girl from her sleep. The house was alongside a dirt road, with no monstrous mushrooms in sight. Empty spots where shingles came loose made the roof look like a puzzle. This angered her, for she imagined a whimsical home and was instead presented something below ordinary. The family spent the following day with their mother, who was granted permission to leave the military base to visit them for one day. When it was time to drive her back, the young girl, still angered over the house not matching her visions, stayed in the car while her father and younger sister hugged her goodbye. That night, her father scolded her for being selfish, but the young girl remained in her bubble of ignorance.
The morning after, the young girl strolled around her new neighborhood, still holding on to a sliver of hope that there was a magical forrest nearby. She passed a bus stop and noticed a baby left astray. He was swaddled and placed in a woven picnic basket, crying while trying to remove his arms from the cloth that trapped him. The young girl brought the baby home. The father said he was proud of her for rescuing the baby from evil. The young girl continued to walk around her neighborhood, searching for more ways to help. She walked in the opposite direction of the bus stop where she found the baby. As she approached a nearby drugstore, she saw a man toppled over on the curb. She watched him for a couple of minutes. He coughed ferociously until his face went blue, then pale again. The young girl helped the sick man rise from the curb and invited him to her house for dinner and medicine. Again, the father was proud of her, but told her to be cautious of who she brought into the house. The walks stopped for a week when the young girl devoted her time to healing the sick man. After he left, the adventures started back up. This time, she walked past the drugstore, further than she’d ever gone before. She saw an older man sitting on a green park bench, his head rested in his hands. He almost blended in with the bench he sat upon. Eager to help, The young girl tapped him on his shoulder and asked if he was okay. The man pointed to the lower half of his body, showing her that he was an amputee. He explained that he was a war veteran. She sat with him for awhile and let him reminisce on his past. When he finished, she confided in him. She told him about the dreams she had for her new home compared to the reality of it, and how she acted when she said goodbye to her mother. The old man shed a single tear. It reminded him
of how his own family reacted when he was first deployed. The conversation made the young girl realize that her father was right, she had acted so selfish by putting her needs above her mother’s. When she came home from her walk, she told her father about the veteran she encountered and what she had realized from his words of wisdom. That night, she wrote a letter to her mother, describing her experience and expressing how apologetic she was.
Texas After To Be Horst by Mitch Berman
I was always fascinated by the idea of moving. Packing everything up and starting fresh in a new home sounds so invigorating. I used to dream of moving. My dad and I used to partake in house tours around New York just for fun. However, I hadn't realized that packing up your belongings means leaving the place that held your memories. Today, my dad told me that we are moving to Texas in a couple of months to be closer to my mom’s military base. I’ve read books about Texas before. Mosquitos linger outside of your front door, waiting for someone to crack it just a tad so they can fly in and feast. I also read that Texans don't like city folk, which I find utterly unfair. All I know about the house is that it’s small, which so far is the only redeeming quality of the entire situation. Not big means not much space for family pictures. Dad will have a breakdown nearly every time he sees a picture of mom. Those two are locked at the hip. As for me, my strategy so far has been to simply not think about her. I don't write to her often or take pictures for her to have when she comes home. She told me not to, she said to do whatever makes it easier for me. The less I have to be reminded of her, the easier it is for me not to miss her.
When I Leave When I leave, do not frame my pictures and hang them on the walls as if I am dead, I don't want holes in the walls and I hate the sticky residue of Command Strips; do not pray for me at the dinner table, in fact, do not pray at all, let our daughters explore religion on their own; do not count the days that I've been gone and long for my return, know that I will return, believe in me; do not answer our neighbors when they ask questions that make you uncomfortable, it is not their business to know how you are holding up; brush Melania’s hair twice a day and learn how to French braid; make sure the girls smile for their school pictures; call my parents, visit them, but do not mope with them over my absence as I know that is what they will try to do; don’t flinch when you watch movies with war scenes, movies do not portray reality; be strong for me, for the girls, and for yourself, you are the only parent now, you must promise me that you will take care of yourself; don’t wait by the front door at 3 p.m every day for a letter from me, and don't question the mailman when one doesn't come; embark on adventures, don't let me hold you back; take pictures; never stop taking pictures, even if you think a moment is ordinary, document it; draw pictures with the girls, too, don’t let them become brainwashed by electronics; mail me the pictures; when you're lying awake at midnight because you've spiraled down a path of missing me, here is what you need to do: Give yourself a few minutes to reminisce, then go to sleep without allowing the undertow a chance to sweep you under the surface—do not get hypnotized by the spiral, it’s dangerous; Lastly, if I return home for the holidays, do not bombard me with questions, let me cherish my time with you instead
Trying to Connect After Arrest me by Denis Hirson I want to feel how my mother feels when she is sleeping. I drag my mattress on to my floor some nights. Other nights, I only lay a sheet. The knot of pain in our backs the next morning is what keeps us connected. I told my dad this. I thought he would find comfort if he did this, too. Instead, he told me to look at the moon. “When your mother looks at the moon, it is the same one that you see,” he told me. “What if she doesn't look?” I asked. These kinds of things aren’t guaranteed. I’ve hardly gotten any sleep since I started doing this. I spend so much time rolling around the floor, trying to make myself comfortable on the wood, that I go to school exhausted. If I fall asleep on my desk, I worry one more encounter with wood will turn me into a tree. The first time my mother called home since I stopped sleeping on my bed, I told her about my back pains. “Suck it up,” she said, “There are worse things that could happen.” I waited anxiously for her to ask why so I could tell her about the sheet that stayed attached to my floor with candles and books, but she never did. I continued doing this for a few weeks, until I complained to her again during a phone call and she asked why my back was in so much pain. She told me what I was doing was redundant, that she slept comfortably every night.
“Just look at the moon before you go to bed,” she said, “That’s what I do every night.”
25 Things you Have yet to Realize After Matthew Burnside, “ 1. You’ve barely spoken to the woman next door since you moved in, but soon she will become your biggest source for comfort and support through your wife’s absence. 2. Your nights of sleeping alone are almost over. 3. Just because their mother decided to join the military doesn’t mean they will, too. 4. You never lost your G.I Joe action figures like you thought you did. Your mother hid them from you when you were younger because she didn't want you to have any interest in the military. 5. Soon you will start to crave spontaneity and candlelit dinners. This will spark the desire to cheat on your wife. It’s up to you to act on those desires or not. If you do, she will leave you. This, you know. 6. Her decision to join the military was so abrupt because she felt a desperate need to change the routine she's been following since Gia was born. She regrets it. 7. You ask yourself, “How will I be able to look at Melania and Gia if she dies?” The answer is simply that you won’t. You will stop hanging their school pictures on the wall because you won't be able to stand seeing them. They look too similar to their mother. 8. You won the talent show in fifth grade because your mom sabotaged the other student’s performances. Those malfunctions were not coincidental. 9. When old friends or family question you about your wife, you look at the ground while you respond. Your sentences come out in chunks of words, pausing to correct your stutter. Everyone notices but you. 10. If you count down the days, time will only move slower. 11. Your relationship with your daughters will never be enough for you. You will always be jealous of their bond with their mother. That is what is keep your relationship from flourishing. 12. The year that your family pretended to forget your birthday wasn't actually a prank, they only said it was to spare your feelings. They had to pay the local baker double the cost to bake a last minute birthday cake for you. 13. Your next door neighbor has a husband. You've never heard about him because he is on frequent business trips as a sales representative.
14. You’ve developed a habit of sleeping on the couch to avoid the empty half of your bed. 15. When you turn sixty, your daughters will not call you to wish you a happy birthday. They will cross the day off with an “X” on their calendars without thinking twice. You will share a cupcake with your wife and watch reruns of Jeopardy together. 16. Your dog, Macy, wasn’t actually taken to a farm when you were a child. Your mother decided to put her down, and thought it was best to not tell you. Over the years she forgot about the lie, thus she forgot to tell you the truth. 17. Watching Forrest Gump on repeat will not accurately convey what your wife is experiencing. No, she is not going to come home with the desire to open a shrimp restaurant. 18. The woman who you called lazy last week for panhandling for money was recently left by her husband. She lost her job because he took her car and money. Rent is due next week. 19. The annual “Take your mother to school day” was last week. Melania didn't tell you. She knew you would either want to come, or convince her to ask her mother. She faked ill when the mothers came so she could go to the nurse’s office. Eleven other children were in the office with her. None of them were in a rush to be sent back to class. 20. Your mother payed your high school teacher to generously curve your final exam to avoid you flunking the class. 21. Each time you reject Melania’s tea party invitation, or Gia’s family game night suggestion, it makes them resent you more. They've kept this from you for so long to keep you from feeing guilty. 22. You haven't returned your mother’s phone calls in months. You haven't even noticed because you've been too busy at work. 23. The day your parents traveled to visit your grandma on such short notice was not for a spontaneous vacation. Your grandma was very ill and thought she was going to pass away that week. They didn't tell you because they didn't want your possible last few days with her to be heavyhearted. 24. The real reason your mother didn't come to your wedding is because she was going through a secret divorce with your father. She didn't have the funds to travel. 25. Putting Ramen noodles in a pot of boiling water does not count as dinner for your family when you do it every night. Eventually you have to learn how to cook meals.
Tea Party My mom and I used to bake cupcakes together for our tea parties. We took these parties very seriously. We would practice speaking in British accents as she decorated my hair in French braids and bows. Now I keep the tea party set on the top of my dresser. My older sister, Gia, is typically too busy with schoolwork to play with me every time I ask. The one time she did, she made us eat carrots because she didn't want to bake, and drank her tea quickly so she wouldn't have to stay long. I asked my father once and he immediately said no without giving it a second thought. I was already wearing one of my tea party outfits. It was a baby blue dress with a matching boa, the one he bought for me the year before. “How come you've never asked me before?” He asked. “Before what?” “Before your mother left.” My heart sunk when he asked that, though I knew he didn't mean for that to happen. “I don't know,” I said, tugging at the ends of my boa. “I don't want to replace her, sweetheart.” Feathers were collecting in piles at my feet as I tried to think of a response. It never came. I didn't ask him to play with me until a month later. It was important to me that he knew he wasn't replacing mom. Nobody could do that. It was silly that he even thought that was possible.
One month later, I asked again. I thought if I kept asking, he would know that he wasn't messing up my relationship with my mother. I waltzed up to him, this time in a purple dress paired with a white boa. “We don't have to make cupcakes. We could make french fries instead if you'd like,� I said. Maybe the cupcakes were the issue. He agreed and we made homemade french fries together. In a purple boa he sat at my designated tea party table. His long, hairy legs intertwined with each other and every time he shifted them slightly, the whole table moved. We never bothered to pick up the french fries immediately after they fell, something my mom would never let slide.
Tea Party My mom and I used to bake cupcakes together for our tea parties.. We would practice speaking in British accents as she decorated my hair in French braids and bows. My older sister, Gia, is typically too busy with schoolwork to play with me every time I ask. The one time she did she drank her tea quickly so she wouldn't have to stay long. I asked my father once and he immediately said no without giving it a second thought. I was already wearing one of my tea party outfits. It was a blue dress paired with a boa. “How come you've never asked me before?” He asked. “Before what?” “Before your mother left.” “I don't know,” I said, tugging at the ends of my boa. “I don't want to replace her, sweetheart.” Feathers were collecting in piles at my feet as I tried to think of a response. I didn't ask him to play with me until a month later. It was important to me that he knew he wasn't replacing mom. Nobody could do that. It was silly that he even thought that was possible. One month later, I asked again. I thought if I kept asking, he would know that he wasn't messing up my relationship with my mother. I waltzed up to him, this time in a purple dress paired with a white boa. “We don't have to make cupcakes. We could make french fries instead if you'd like,” I said.
He agreed. In a purple boa he sat at my designated tea party table. His long, hairy legs intertwined with each other and every time he shifted them slightly, the whole table moved. We never bothered to pick up the french fries immediately after they fell, something my mom would never let slide.
Tea Party My mom and I used to bake cupcakes together for our tea parties. We would practice speaking in British accents as she decorated my hair in French braids and bows. My older sister, Gia, is typically too busy with schoolwork to play with me every time I ask. The one time she did she drank her tea quickly so she wouldn't have to stay long. I asked my father once and he immediately said no without giving it a second thought. I was already wearing one of my tea party outfits. It was a blue dress paired with a boa. “How come you've never asked me before?” He asked. “Before what?” “Before your mother left.” “I don't know,” I said, tugging at the ends of my boa. “I don't want to replace her, sweetheart.” Feathers were collecting in piles at my feet as I tried to think of a response. It was important to me that he knew he wasn't replacing mom. It was silly that he even thought that was possible. One month later, I asked again. I waltzed up to him, this time in a purple dress paired with a white boa. He agreed. In a purple boa he sat at my designated tea party table. His long, hairy legs intertwined with each other and every time he shifted them slightly, the whole table moved. We never bothered to pick up the french fries immediately after they fell, something my mom would never let slide.
Pig Face After Robert Frost Elementary School Cafeteria by Jesse Eisenberg
Today, I received my first detention. I also got into my first fight at school. He’s a foot taller than me and has a nose that curls up at the tip so much that I can see the inside of his nostrils. Because of this, I call him pig face. I’ve argued with people before, but only with random kids from my neighborhood, never someone from school. When my dad found out, he made me sit in the corner of our kitchen for thirty minutes and write an apology letter. “Dear pig face, I mean Jonathon,” it read, “I’m sorry that you didn't believe me.” My older sister, Gia, helped me rip it to shreds later. She understood why I kicked the boy from school. It was career day for me and her. We both knew mom wouldn't be able to come home for something like career day. Not when things like Christmas and funerals exist, that’s what my dad said anyway. He said she has to be mindful of grandma and grandpa’s age and health. He couldn't make it either. He works in a fancy office with his own name plaque for his desk. He said he has to save his vacation days for more important things, incase something unexpected pops up. “Like grandma’s health?” I asked. “Yeah,” he said. I sat in the back of the classroom and listened to all of my friend’s parents tell us about their jobs. Madeline Joan’s mom is a firefighter. She told us she has never actually rescued a kitten from a tree. Thomas Smith’s father is a pediatrician. When everyone else's parent presented, pig face turned to me. “Where’s your mom at? Couldn't make it?”
“No,” I said. “Richie’s father is a doctor and he made it.” “My mom is in the military.” This kept him quiet for a few moments before he bursted into laughter. “The military? Your mom? If she couldn't make it or she's dead or something just say it.” “She truly is in the military. My dad is a lawyer, he's working on a case or something.” “Everyone knows girls aren't tough enough to do something like that.” At that point, I couldn't stand the sight of him or the snot in his nostrils, so I kicked him. Really hard like they taught me to do at soccer practice. He wailed in front of the class and at the nurses office. I heard he didn't stop until he got home. He didn’t wear shorts for a week because of the bruise. My dad didn’t find that part funny. He made me write another letter apologizing specifically for the bruise, which Gia, again, helped me shred.
The New Extravagant The last couple of times my father accompanied my mom and I on my dress shopping adventures he ended up hiding in the parking lot puffing on cigarettes until my mom and I finished. She always stayed with me, offering brutally honest opinions on the dresses. “That dress is too tight,” she’d say. Or, “That color makes you look flushed.” Now that she isn’t home, it’s my dad’s responsibly to take me. Yesterday was the first time he had to endure the experience all the way through the end. We went to Macy’s first. He suggested dresses decked in ruffles and various obscure animal prints. My mom wouldn't have even let me look in the direction of those dresses. I agreed to try them on anyway to please him and because I didn't have any energy to waste on explaining to him that I’m thirteen now. Any respectable girl my age caught wearing a dress like that would not survive to make it to high school. By dress number six I thought he was going to light a cigarette in the mall. He rhythmically tapped his feet in his New Balances. The mothers in the fitting room waiting area looked at him like he was a circus clown. The last dress I tried on was my dad’s favorite. It was purple and lined with cheetah print ruffles. When he saw me, he was speechless. The mothers looked at me like I was a sea monster. “Honey, I’ve been watching you try on dresses for about an hour now and my god I just cannot let you go anywhere in that. Is it for a dance?” One mother asked. The mother seated next to her chimed in, this time talking to my father, “If you have any love for your daughter you will not let her wear that.”
My father and I are the furthest from confrontational. He sat calmly while they rambled. I listened from my fitting room, laughing silently at the absurdities. I ended up buying a simple dress, nothing spectacular. It was navy blue and lacked much pizazz but my dad said simple is the new extravagant. He smoked through five cigarettes on the drive home. After the first few he asked me how ridiculous he looked in the fitting room. I told him I hadn't even noticed. We were silent the rest of the car ride, and when we got home he suggested game night.
Teaching my Mother How to be a Mom After “Daddy Lessons” by Beyonce
Valencia came home yesterday. Contrary to the heartwarming videos of soldiers coming home that Gia had spent so much time watching, this arrival was expected. It was the way Gia had always hoped it would be. The morning of, Gia helped Melania shower and pick out something nice to wear. They waited together in the living room all day. Gia drew pictures of what she imagined the grand moment to be like. She drew confetti falling from thin air and tears spraying out like the fireworks being launched into the air behind her. Instead, Valencia walked in without knocking. She had always done that, a habit she passed on to her daughters. Gia was pouring tea in the kitchen when she walked in. She dropped the kettle, hot tea burned and boiled on the tiled floor. What she prepared all day for still surprised her. That night, Valencia took Melania and Gia out for dinner. “Your pick. My treat,” she said. She suggested Arby’s, an old favorite of theirs, but Melania gagged at the thought of eating there again. “We cannot eat there. Their mozzarella sticks gave Melania food poisoning a few years ago,” Gia said. “You used to love Arby’s. I’m sure it’s safe now,” Valencia said, shrugging off their concern and leaving no room to argue. Dining out together made Gia realize how comfortable she had grown to taking on a motherly rule with Melania over the years. She forgot what it was like to be a sister.
She had been too busy beating the monsters and goblins out of Melania’s closet with a broom to try to be her friend. Throughout dinner, she realized she wasn’t ready to give the rule up, just as much as Valencia was in no position to take the rule on. When the waitress brought the food to the table, Valencia offered to cut Melania’s grilled cheese in halves. “No thank you,” Melania said, “I like the way Gia cuts them into stars.” She slid her plate over to Gia. She was shocked by her manners, the way she talked to her like a stranger. The night continued on with Melania innocently asking Gia to do things for her. At the end of the night, she asked Gia to take her to the bathroom, something she had became used to doing since her father couldn't go in with her. “You know, honey, you don't need Gia to go with you. I’m here,” Valencia said. Melania looked over at Gia as if she were caught in a crossfire. She hen walked away with Valencia. At home that night, Valencia and Gia cleaned up together. It was the first alone time they had together since she came home. The air seemed thicker in every place they stood together at. Moments passed before Valencia broke the silence. “Melania loves you a lot, you know?” “I’d hope so, she’s my sister.” “Sister? Come on, you're more than just her sister. She looks up to you, she counts on you. I’m so grateful you're here to guide her because frankly I don't know how good of a job your dad would do.”
They looked at each other from across the kitchen and laughed. It was comforting for both of them. The world seemed to orbit around the two. For the next few minutes, everything was blissful. Melania walked in before hardly any time passed at all, asking Gia to do the usual monster check. Gia groaned and trudged forward, grabbing the broom stick as she followed her younger sister. She performed the usual routine swiftly. She had been doing it for months. Valencia watched from the doorway. “Could you teach me how to do that,” Valencia asked. “Do what?” “The monster clearing, or whatever it’s called. How do you do that and make it so lively?” “Trust me it is not easy. The theatric aspect of it only picked up last month. It’s a skill you acquire over time,” Gia laughed. “You know, you can ease up now with the whole protective thing.” “Melania can’t sleep unless she knows for sure that there aren't any monsters in her closet.” “Not just with the monsters,” Valencia paused, giving herself a moment to collect her thoughts. “I know you and your sister have a very close relationship. I’m just concerned that it’s not a sisterly relationship. I’m home now, her mother is present in her life without any worry of her being swooped away. Ease up. I can handle these things, you just have to show me the ropes.” This took Gia completely by surprise. After years of picking up Valencia’s slack, she was supposed to simply cut back.
“Mom, I'm happy you’re home. I am. I am beyond happy. But you decided to randomly ship yourself away with no concern at all to how your family might feel, and all of a sudden you want to be concerned. I just find that kind of convenient for you.” “I’m only asking for you to allow me to get to know my daughter’s again. I've missed a lot. I need to get our relationships back to how they used to be.” “They will get there, but only by you stepping forward. Me stepping back isn't going to strengthen your bond with her. This is our relationship.” They talked for the rest of the night, mainly Gia. She recalled stories to her mother from the years she had missed. They bounced back from their quarrel quickly. By the end of the night, the blissful feeling was restored. Their universe seemed to align again.