Inkblot Art & Literary Magazine by Ms. Eaton

June 2021

Takoma Park Middle School

inkblot student staff Soraya Henry Sydney Humpert Cynthia Li Angie Speer Aidan Waner Sophia Yarrow

inkblot faculty sponsor Ms. Jenni Eaton

Special thanks to Ms. Alicia Deeny, principal Mr. Danny Goldsmith, English Resource Teacher TPMS PTA, Financial Sponsor

Takoma Park Middle School Inkblot art & literary magazine is produced by Takoma Park Middle School’s Creative Writing Club with a generous mini-grant from the PTA. All content was produced and selected by Takoma Park Middle School students. All rights reserved.

Contributors 123456 Cameron Deroche Jack Franzel Coltrane Haisley Soraya Henry Sydney Humpert Cynthia Li Gloria Liang Sofiya Moore Mars Moreno Natalie Mullens Anna Seelke Angie Speer Aidan Waner Mengtong Xiang Cover artwork by Angie Speer

The Most Amazing Title Ever

Phenomenon

This story is about a title. It’s the most amazing title ever, if you ask me. But of course, you probably won’t ask me, because I now live my life writing about things I’ve written, alone in a cabin, in the most far-flung corner of the country.

Exquisite is the way she stands, Despite her modest size. Delicate is the fold of her hands. Vivid are her eyes.

123456

Sydney Humpert

Anyhoo, the story about the story got started when I wanted to write a story. I had lived my measly 29 years of existence writing about how measly human lives were compared to the grand scheme of the universe. I wrote 39 papers on the subject. Exactly none were published. So, as I was considering just how measly my existence was, I wondered if I should write about something new. Something fictional.

Intrepid are the steps she takes. Resolute is her expression. Her figure she differentiates, making an impression.

I thought about it for exactly 1,129 hours, 32 minutes, and 6.989 seconds before deciding to write something with all the ideas in my head. (I know…what a shocking waste of my precious few years in the universe.) I opened up Google Documents and started writing. Exactly 34 hours, 59 minutes, and 12 seconds later the first draft was finished. It was a simple story about a boy and his dog who are playing in the fields and being all happy and then SNAP! the dog gets eaten and the boy goes on an international adventure to stop an elusive dog eating monster.

She is here to revolutionize-Change what has gone on. She is wearing no disguise-A true phenomenon.

After another 15 hours, 31 minutes, and 16.7 seconds, the second draft was done. I changed the dog to a friend and made it a people eating monster. After another 75 hours, 59 minutes, and 59.99 seconds, I had a hold of a publisher. After another 100 hours exactly, the book was published. And the title was: The Most Amazing Title Ever (by me, 123456) ◼

She is the first of her kind, now the nation’s choice. Apt to share her piece of mind, compelling is her voice.

One Nation Anna Seelke

We are one nation All to be loved To have the freedom Of equal opportunities With a voice We all have a dream To be empowered The movement of change and action History… The word that describes now To be told forever We need to have hope in our hearts To be open minded And read others To learn and grow as a community And change the world.

On The Older Side of Young Soraya Henry

Sprawled on the window ledge like a Roman emperor, Keith wished to go outside. He wanted to feel 10 years old again and splash around in puddles, dance in the rain with his neighborhood friends. He longed to go back to when life wasn’t complicated. Keith watched the raindrops trickle down the window. Keith pressed his forehead against the cool glass. He remembered when he used to pick one and race it against another raindrop. Keith licked his chapped lips and jumped off the window ledge seat. He twirled around in his socks on the hardwood floor. In a sort of sliding dance, he made his way to his closet. His fingers brushed over different sweaters, each texture unique. His almond shaped eyes scanned for the fire-engine red rain jacket his father had bought him before the wet season. He yanked it off the hook and slid it on. He dropped to his knees and grabbed matching rain boots that stopped in the middle of his shins. He pulled his phone out of his jean pocket and threw it on the bed, not wanting it to get wet on his adventure. He walked out of his room, the hardwood floors squeaking under him. He slid down the stairs using the railing, something his mother forbade him from doing. But in his mind, he thought, who’s going to tell? As he made his way to the front door a voice stopped him. “Where are you going?” He spun on the rubber heels of the boots and turned to face Takashi. His ‘older’ brother was crossing his arms and tried to look stern, but it failed as he was wearing a ‘kiss the cook’ apron. “Out.” “In this weather? No way.” “I’m not asking.” Takashi sighed. He knew better than to argue with Keith when he was in this mood.

“Fine. Be home for dinner or Mom will skin you alive.” Keith nodded and opened the door. He struggled to open the screen door as the brutal wind fought back. As soon as Keith was out in the open he was drenched. The wind and rain pellets smacked his cheeks, making them sting. His hair turned stringy and stuck against his forehead. He pulled his hood up and began to march down the gravel driveway. He paused at the gate and stared straight into the security camera. He hesitated for a second, but then flipped the bird at the camera and darted out of the gate. He was trying to move as quickly as possible to avoid his mother's security team. Once he was on the main road he walked on the curb, occasionally dipping his left foot like he was on a balance beam. Cars rushed past him, making his hood fly off his head and cover him in somehow even more water. The world was oddly quiet, the rain drowning out any other noises. As Keith made his way downtown he noticed people running into buildings, trying to escape the rain. He felt a ghost smile tug at his lips as he watched a woman fight with her umbrella, failing to get it to cover her and not move with the wind. He kept his eyes peeled for the biggest puddle he could find. Keith felt detached from his body, emotionless. He found himself at the strip mall. Half of the buildings were abandoned while the other half were rundown. He had found his puddle. It was one of the largest potholes he had ever seen. Probably from the 7.6 earthquakes they had had in the dry season. Keith marched over to the murky brown puddle. The darkened shade made it impossible to see how deep it was. “Running start is a good idea,” Keith mumbled to himself as he walked roughly six meters away from the puddle. Keith felt himself getting giddy. He let out a shaky laugh before sprinting for the puddle. Keith was on his school's track team. He was only a freshman, but he was on varsity.

Keith paused for a millisecond and jumped into the puddle, aiming for the middle. Keith was surprised about how deep the puddle was. It would’ve been waist-high if Keith had landed properly. His left heel had slipped under him and he came crashing to the ground, slamming his head and back into the asphalt. He was fully submerged for a second before he sat up, gasped loudly. His head throbbed, blocking out the sounds of the rain, which was blocking out the sound of the city. He crawled out of the puddle, trying to make sense of the spinning world. Dazed, he ran his fingers across the top of the water, the texture so different from the sweaters in his closet. He was vaguely aware of how gross this was, and part of him cared but the larger part just wanted to lie there and stare at the dark thunderclouds. Slowly he felt his eyelids get heavy and he fell into unconsciousness, the cloud’s teardrops falling all over his face. •—•—•—•—• Keith was awoken by a sharp slap. His eyes fluttered open as he came face to face with a stranger. The stranger had a thin long nose with a bump like it had been broken and never quite healed, and large blue eyes with turquoise flecks. The curly brown hair that stuck to the stranger’s forehead stood out to Keith for some reason. “Katie! He’s awake!” the stranger yelled to someone next to Keith. Keith tried to turn his head and realized he couldn’t. He scowled as the stranger’s voice seemed to echo and fade away. “Hey, hey, stay awake. Help is coming,” the stranger urged, tapping Keith’s cheeks slightly. He found it harder and harder to concentrate on the details of the stranger's face. “What’s your name?” the stranger asked. Keith told him his name, more like rasped. He didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or cry, he was surrounded by water, covered in water, and yet his mouth felt dry. The stranger blurred into a tan blob. The blob shook Keith but it was too late. He had slipped back into the clutches of unconsciousness.

•—•—•—•—• Keith sat cross-legged on his bed, trying to focus on the bright computer screen. It had been two years since the incident. He struggled to remember anything, all he can recall is going outside in the rain and waking in the hospital. He closed the laptop, sighing loudly. He moved his fingers and began to massage his temples, trying to relieve the pressure that was building up. The doctors had run numerous tests trying to figure out why he still had them years later. The migraines had taken over his life. Half the time he wasn’t even able to get out of bed, causing his grades to go downhill. Keith bit his lip and pushed his laptop to the side before crawling under the covers, snuggling deep in their warmth. He pulled out his phone, wincing slightly at the harsh brightness. He was pulled out of an endless instagram search by a facetime call. He squinted to read the name before clicking the answer button. Immediately Ryan’s face popped up. His face was close to the screen, showing off his olive green eyes and angular cheekbones. “Keith!” Ryan shrieked, his voice going several octaves higher than usual. Keith scowled at his energetic best friend, ignoring his pounding headache. Ryan let out a deep laugh before setting his phone down on his desk, giving Keith a less dramatic view of his nose. “What do you want?” Keith asked, his tone harsh. Ryan brushed off harshness, used to it by now. “BL released another scandal,” Ryan said. Keith felt his throat go dry. BL, also known as Blue Leo, was a gossip writer at his school who was known for ruining the reputations of the students and teachers at River Fork School of the Fine Arts. Nobody knew exactly who Blue Leo was, only that they had a complicated past with every kid they destroyed. “Who’s social life is extinct now?” Keith asked dryly, trying to sound as bored as possible.

“Ina Kristján,” Ryan said, fiddling with one of his dreadlocks. Keith closed his eyes mentally trying to place Ina.

Painted Wings Angie Speer

“She’s the girl who sits next to you in history right? The Icelantic ambassador's daughter?” Keith asked, finally opening his eyes.

“Oh mirror, mirror, on the wall,” it wailed, “Say, why can she turn eyes on every face?” “Snow White, alright, I envy her, I’ve failed.”

Ryan nodded, “Yeah. She was super nice, sad her reputation is over. She-”

It’s true, she did turn eyes in every place People threw prickly roses at her feet. “Love is not for me!” and yet they still chase

“I don’t care what she did,” Keith said, interrupting Ryan’s sentence. He remembered Ina, she was his english partner last year. He bit the inside of his cheek, he hated BL. Who was it for them to decide what secrets to expose?

Love, unrequited echoed down the street Despite Snow White’s desperate protests they’d yell So she worded her disinterest in speech:

“Who do you think it is?” Keith finally asked, breaking the silence. He watched Ryan pause for a moment, thinking of all the malicious and heartless rich kids at River Fork.

“To all who seek me as a spouse,” she’d tell, “The answer’s always no, please leave me be.” Even this declaration could not quell

“It could be either James’, Griffin or Makiron. Maybe Pansy? The real question is do you think it’s a girl or a boy?”

The people slamming on the ground one knee. And so the jealous beast drew up a plan One apple of death, poison! Served with tea

Keith thought about that before speaking, “Guys are more traditionally violent when they have bones to pick, while girls are more traditionally vicious and sneaky. But BL is a different breed of violent and vicious. I honestly don’t have a clue.”

Snow White suspected not a thing, oh! And, Once Snow White was dead this creature would gain Her beauty, good looks, a complementary tan

The two boys were silent, before Ryan suddenly changed the subject to his newest crush of the week. ◼

But soon this selfish choice brought on great pain For Snow White had kept the town in good shape Her kindness: unity. On streets they lain People poor, fighting, fixing things with tape Businesses battling, all because this beast Wanted beauty; Snow White had lost her cape Unreturned selflessness gone, she’s deceased. Dead and now ugly, there were no grievings The beast’s velvet gown swung low in defeat “I guess she wasn’t just those painted wings,” The beast murmured, low in voice and sorry “More than what meets the eye,” its pale ghost sings Not so happy, still the sky is starry People really are strange stuffed safaris

A Starry Night Gloria Liang

“It’s cold, Lux,” I growled at my mentor. “Why can’t we go stargazing when my bloody skin doesn’t feel like it’s going to crawl off of my body?” I clutched my hands to my chest, trying to ward off the chilly air.

on my shoulder and I winced. Her skin was as cold as an ice block. Witches always felt cold.

I bet Lux didn’t feel a thing, since she was wrapped in so much heavy ornamental garb. The great planetary witch was weighed down both by expectations and her own clothing.

I raised an eyebrow. “Helios? The planet of fire and light? I thought Helios was a fictional world. It is fictional.”

Had she forgotten about me? My clothes were as thin as tissue. The touch of snow was in the air and it was the middle of winter! “Just wait, Aster,” Lux whispered softly, her eyes pointed at the dark sky. She stood with her hands raised to the air as I lay next to her on the rough grass, biting my tongue so I didn’t quip back.

“You know, my mentor told me that falling stars are the children of Helios,” Lux murmured.

“We are creatures of myth, Aster, you and me. What makes you so sure Helios isn’t real?” “Witches are real. We’re talking to each other at this moment. Until one of Helios’ children decides to fall out of the sky and to speak to me, I’m not believing.” I shook my head stubbornly. “I thought teenagers like you actually imagined things,” Lux sighed.

It was a cloudless night, and the blue fabric of the sky was darkening. Slowly, pinpricks of white stars appeared in the sky one by one until the entire galaxy unfolded into the air. The air was crisp and freezing, but it was a beautiful night.

We fell into silence, watching stars blinking and dust crawling across the vast expanse of space. I found myself closing my eyes and breathing in the night air.

Lux had stopped gazing at the sky and stared at me with her multi-colored eyes. “You stop scowling when you look at the stars. It’s refreshing to see you smile.”

A few hours later, we returned back to our shared house. I could hear Lux’s clothing rustling and her dozens of necklaces clanging against each other in a metallic symphony as she walked, I followed behind her.

“Shut up,” I responded, rubbing my arms, covered in gooseflesh.

I scowled. “That makes no sense. They’re just burning rocks.”

As much as I liked the stars, I couldn’t wait to get inside the warm laboratory. From the outside, it resembled a lighthouse. Inside, my area was near the fireplace, clean of any clutter and dust. Metal hunks were placed over the crackling flame to soften, luminous night herbs were opening up their buds to soak up the moonlight filtering through a window, and the threadbare couch was beckoning to me.

Lux had always been the dreamer. I was much more down to earth and pragmatic. It didn’t make any sense to wish on something that would be burned away by the atmosphere.

The rest of the living area was Lux’s, and therefore a mess. One’s house represents who one is, so Lux’s entire personality could be described as chaos.

The witch clicked her tongue at me disapprovingly and sank down next to me, grimacing at her heavy jewelry. She laid a hand

Lux had decorated everything and anything, to my horror when I had first moved in. More night herbs grew out of the cracks of the stone walls, large tapestries and paintings depicting epic 5

A pinprick shot through the sky, painting the blue with a trail of white. My mentor nodded at me with a small smile. “Make a wish. It’s a shooting star.”

fables of star witches that I didn’t believe hung above the fireplace and on the walls of the staircase. The entire room was cramped with all of the plants, art, and furniture Lux had somehow fit into the living area. It was sacrilege. As I plopped onto my couch, I heard Lux rummaging through the cabinets in the tiny kitchen. She was busying herself with what I could only describe as magical coffee with none of the good taste. Somehow, she found a pot through the maze of cutlery and plates. As the water boiled, Lux dropped the buds and leaves of night herbs inside. “It’s midnight. Do you know what day it is?” Lux asked, sounding excited. “Of course. I’m surprised you managed to remember.” I brushed a wisp of silver hair from my face. Just a few years earlier, my hair had been completely black. Now it was turning white, like Lux’s. I was going to look like an old man. “Happy birthday, Astra.” Lux smiled softly at me. I rolled over to look, covered in pillows and neck strained as I met her gaze. “Why do you sound happy about it?” I mumbled.

With that happy thought, I took a deep breath. “I’m going to get ready.” Little did I know that my words had been almost prophetic. “Until one of Helios’ children decides to fall out of the sky and to speak to me, I’m not believing.” ◼

GENDER

Mars Moreno She. Feels more like a burden, and not who I am. My heart pangs with the hurt I feel when somebody calls me: Her. Can’t keep feeling the rock in my stomach so I beg to be called: They.

“You’re fifteen! Isn’t that something to celebrate? You made it through another year.”

I like this.

“I have the ceremony,” I growled.

I don’t rage inside every single time someone addresses me anymore.

Lux raised an eyebrow. “You’re nervous about that? You’ve done it five times already and haven’t failed yet.”

I can handle this.

“Yet. Realistically I could fail because life decides to kick me in the a—”

Them.

Lux cut me off with a stern glare. “Have more faith in yourself,” she admonished. I stood up. “We never know.” Lux’s eyes flickered up to mine and I knew exactly what was going through both of our heads. “Don’t screw this up like the other apprentice.”

The other apprentice had made a mistake and now they were one of the bodies beneath the ground of the lighthouse.

Keep on calling me:

Using it for who knows how long, until someone mistakes me for a: He. My heart pounds with excitement I’d never felt before. A pure joy I didn’t know how to describe when I get called: Him.

A Road Trip With Stu Aidan Waner

Hello, there. I see you have decided to flip to this particular page of the literary magazine and read about me. Well, if that’s why you’re here, you may want to get comfy. It’s going to be a long time. Alright. Opening lines… hmm. “A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away…”? No. I don’t think so. It’s a good line, but totally irrelevant to my tale. Also, copyright issues. “It was a dark and stormy night…”? Haha, no. It’s a cliche, and I’m trying to avoid those. How about “Hello, there.”? Yes, that’s what I’ll choose when I write down my life story for a middle school magazine. Oh, wait… Time for introductions. My name is Frank Smith. You may have heard of me. You probably haven’t, seeing as I’m a figment of my author’s imagination and therefore totally fictional. On the other hand, there is an infinitesimal chance that you know someone named Frank Smith, seeing as they’re both common names. That’d be like knowing a Steve Rogers, or a Harry Potter. Though I’ll probably never be as popular as either of them. You know me. I don’t know you, though if I had to guess, I’d say that you’re a middle schooler or a middle schooler’s parent in Maryland, flipping through this magazine. Your eye was probably caught by the title of this text. That was quite intentional. It was to get you to read this so that I’d get money from the advertisements contained within. I would ask you your name, but you cannot reply to me, so that would be pointless.

when I passed a Starbucks. Now, normally I’m not the coffee kind of guy, but I was really tired. The sky was just starting to darken and turn that lovely shade of orange from sunsets, but I was too exhausted to pay any attention to that. In fact, I was so distracted I nearly got hit by six cars walking back. I live in New York City, by the way. I nearly get hit by cars a lot. Anyways, I walked by the Starbucks and decided that I could really go for one of their caffeine loaded drinks. That should get me back to my apartment in one piece. So I walked into the Starbucks. It was pretty much empty in there, and I went right up to the counter. “Hello, mister,” the person behind it said. “What would you like?” I scanned the menu (if you can say a Starbucks has a menu), but didn’t see any listings about amounts of caffeine. I inwardly shrugged and outwardly said, “Whatever has the most caffeine.” Twenty minutes later, I was almost back to my apartment, my extra-large Starbucks cup drained. I really should’ve taken a taxi. Not only would it have been easier, it would have saved me from the trouble I was about to get into. As I was walking, I tossed my cup into a trash can. I happened to glance across the crowded road and saw, whadya know, my friend’s office building was glowing blue. Okay. Let me get two things out of the way about that sequence: 1)

The office building was indeed owned by my friend.

It wasn’t really glowing, more like ominous light was shooting out of the windows.

(sorry, I lied) No one else seemed to care. Maybe the building glowed blue a lot.

Okay, I’m yammering now. Moving on. Here we go. The whole shebang got started (or, the rigmarole got rigmarolling) when I accidentally blew up a building. Specifically, my friend’s work building. (He was not inside it at the time.) I was walking home from work one evening

Anyhoo, I thought I’d take a look. Mostly because I thought if anything even remotely bad

happened, I’d probably be blamed for it. So I should probably make sure nothing bad was going to happen before I ran away. I walked over to the building and took a little peek inside. Mistake, as that turns out. You see, I happened to notice a computer was on. At 5:00 PM, after everyone was gone? So I (more stupidity here) went into the building, which for some reason was unlocked.

But I pressed it. The computer did not explode, melt, disintegrate, catch fire, sink through the floor, crackle with electricity, or pull out a gun and shoot itself. Instead, ominus red lights started pulsing. “Self destruct in 20… 19… 18…” a calm voice announced.

On the screen of the computer was a pixelated smiley face. Then the face on the screen looked at me and said, “Hello!”

I blinked. “Why?”

There was much screaming on my part. “How are you doing?” the computer continued. “I am STUPOD, the ScienTifically Useless but Periodically Organized Device. And you are… let me check…” I continued screaming. Someone peeked in through the window and saw me screaming at an apparent video on a Dell. He moved along. The face on the computer screen looked up. “I know! You are George Washington.” I stopped screaming so I could glance at STUPOD. “What are you talking about?” STUPOD said, “Well, who you are. You’re George Washington! Or maybe Albert Einstein. Perhaps Joan of Arc?” “Why is the building glowing blue?” “Oh, that happens a lot… A side effect of my immense computational power. The people who live around here hardly seem to care.” As the program babbled on, I sat down in the chair next to the computer and pressed the power button. The computer did not turn off. However, a small message popped up that said, “Press Power Button Again to Initiate Self Destruct”. I most certainly wanted to blow up the annoying computer who was now trying to swat the pop-up. Without having hands to swat at anything with. My finger moved towards the button. STUPOD said, “No!”

“YOU FOOL!” the computer screamed. “YOU’LL BLOW UP THE WHOLE BUILDING!”

“Because you clicked self-destruct! And I am the building! My processors are wired into the walls!” I paled. “Can I stop it?” STUPOD said, “Maybe if you take out my flash drive…?” I yanked out a shiny flash drive from the Dell’s CPU. Nothing happened. New plan, I thought, and jumped through the door as the building exploded behind me. Well, that was dramatic. I must say, I have always loved those scenes from the Mission: Impossible movies where Tom Cruise runs in slo-mo as something blows up. It thrilled me to be in one of those scenes. It did not thrill me to be the one who’d made a city wide emergency. After ducking through emergency and news crews, I got back to my apartment and loaded STUPOD into my Mac. The A.I.’s pixelated smiley face appeared in a new window labeled “STUPOD Program.” STUPOD took a moment to sync up with my Mac and WiFi. It briefly scanned the news, then frowned at me. “You are a stupod nob.” I protested. “Hey! I can’t be stupod! You’re STUPOD!” The program said, “No, you can be stupod too. Anyway, I’ve contacted the police to tell them the guy who blew up the building is at my location.” “Why’d you do that?!” STUPOD (you know, I’ll just call him Stu) smiled. “It’s in my programming. I must cooperate with the law!”

I heard a banging on the door. “FBI!” a voice yelled. “OPEN UP!”

processing devices in New York. Now I’m back in D.C. with you. I must say, it’s a nice city.”

I grabbed the flash drive and my Mac. (Not because I cared about Stu, but he could be useful if I was a fugitive. Provided I could keep him from calling the feds on me.)

“So that’s why you called the feds on us? Not because it’s a nice city,” I clarified. “But because you work for the government?”

I decided to make another spy movie exit. I jumped out the window and took the fire escape down, just as the cops barged through my door. I reached the bottom and raced through the alleyway. I heard someone shout behind me, “Stop!” Would it surprise you to learn that I didn’t stop? “Stop or we will shoot!” Would it surprise you to learn that I didn’t stop? A bullet whizzed by my ear. Wow, I thought. These guys weren’t messing around. Instead of, you know, fearing for my life, I dodged through the alley and lost the cops. I caught a cab and told him to take me as far away as he could. He said that he’d take me to the edge of his service limit, plus a bit, depending on how much money I had. Five hours later, I was in Washington D.C. Are you wondering why a New York taxi took me all the way to D.C.? Well, I had some serious cheddar cheese on me, if you catch my drift. Also, the cabbie was going to D.C. anyways. Upon my arrival in D.C., I booked a hotel near-ish to the White House. I was, for the time being, living in the President’s backyard. I also had little to no money. When I got up to my hotel room, I set down my laptop and jacked in STUPOD. Stu’s face appeared on the screen almost immediately. “Ah, D.C. I love it here. It’s where the idea of me was made, you know.” I probably looked incredulous. “The idea of you?” Stu nodded (sort of). “I was actually originally a top secret supercomputer for the government; the next evolution of A.I. Then I got bored and escaped over the web and built myself some

“Yep! However, I don’t anymore. That was just sort of a hobby.” I swallowed. “And have you called them now?” “Nope! I have rewritten that particular flaw in my code. I decided that I would enjoy a life on the run.” I nodded. “Okay. Well, I wouldn’t. Who can I talk to to get myself cleared for possessing you? Also, for blowing up a building? I’m pretty much a terrorist right now.” The A.I. thought (computed?) for a moment. “I’d say Doctor Slimmel, the man in charge of the STUPOD project. He’d be the one hunting you. He could also reverse the charges for the NYC building.” I was already strapping on my backpack. “And he’d be in the White House?” The computer caught my drift. “Oh, no. No. That’s a bad idea. You should just call him from a secure location.” I logged into my email and sent myself the file for STUPOD. I opened up my phone and pulled up the file. Stu popped up on my phone. “You can get me in?” I asked the A.I. Stu grimaced. “Well… yes. And Slimmel is in the White House. I’m just saying, if you get caught, there’ll be trouble.” I slammed the laptop shut and marched out the door, Stu in my pocket. Getting in was easier than it should’ve been. It was, after all, the President’s house. I snuck through the halls, occasionally ducking into doors. It was the middle of the night and therefore mostly empty. Still, I didn’t want to take any chances. I snuck into an office room in the West Wing and asked Stu to tell me where Slimmel was.

“Hold me up,” the phone demanded. I raised the camera to the computer screen I opened up. STUPOD analyzed it. “Click on the file ‘Staff Schedule’.” I did as it asked, wondering why I didn’t just do that myself. Stu stared at the screen. “Slimmel is in the Oval Office meeting with the President.” “Great,” I said. “Just great. Which way?” “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” my little supercomputer said. “I’d say it’s time to turn around now. We can’t get into the Oval Office, especially while the President is in there.” “Fine,” I said. “Can you hack the files and clear our names?” The computer computed. I absentmindedly wondered how much data on my phone this program was taking up. “Hmm… Well, there isn’t enough processing power for me to do that from your phone or laptop. Maybe if you plugged me into a more powerful computer… or better yet, a computer in this building.” “I thought you wanted to get out of here!” I said. Stu replied, “Well, yes. But I thought you wanted to clear your name.” I was coming up with a clever reply when I heard shouting. It sounded like people were looking for me. “Stu…” I said. “Yep!” the robot confirmed. “Let’s skedaddle.” Guess what? We made it. Are you surprised? I’m surprised. Of course, a victory like that came at a cost. Such a perfect Mission: Impossible moment had to be ruined by me tripping on my shoelace. But let’s rewind. I ran out of the office door and charged down the hall. Only to realize that there were two Secret Service agents there. Oh, well. I barged through them and bonked their heads on the wall, saying “Sorry-gotta-go-bye!” as I went. “That was rude,” Stu commented from my

pocket. I ran down the long hall, and dodged into a janitor’s closet as a trio of agents marched down the hall. But, surprise surprise, there was an agent in the closet. There were a few moments of scuffling in which I managed to whack my opponent on the head with Stu, who commented, “I’d say ow, but I can’t feel pain.” I charged out of the closet and ran away from the agents. So close to the door! So close! I could see it! I was going to make it! So close! I tripped on my shoelace and fell on my face. An agent’s rough hand yanked me to my feet. He pulled out his walkie-talkie and said, “Yep, I’ve got him here. The idiot fell on his f-URP!” I whammied the agent with his walkie-talkie, and down he went. I busted out the doors into the night. I ran away, dodging cops and feds (there were plenty of each - this was D.C.) and arrived at the hotel. I paused long enough to grab Stu and my laptop, then check out. I ran to the bus stop as a helicopter flew by overhead, its searchlight trained on me. No time to pick and choose. I waved at the chopper, then dived into the nearest bus as it pulled away. I got into a seat and looked at the sign above the driver’s head. Apparently, I was headed for Louisiana. The bus pulled into the station at a small town on the coast. I wondered where I would stay as I pulled Stu out of my bag. The computer booted up. “Well,” it said. “We’re in Louisiana now. This is one heck of a road trip.” “Stu,” I said, “Do you have any idea where to stay? Because I have literally one dollar left.” “Let’s ask them,” the computer said, then called over to a most unusual trio. “HEY! Can you help us?” The three walked over. There was a large man with a buzz cut, a short man with startlingly gray eyes, and a blob. No, I kid you not. There was a blob there, just a big green thing jumping around.

“Blob?” the blob inquired. Great. He was grooting. “Well?” the short man asked. “Answer him.” I just kind of stared at them. I had no idea what the blobby thing just said, or how the people knew what the blobby thing just said, or why they thought I knew what it said. But Stu apparently did. “I’m STUPOD, the ScienTifically Useless but Periodically Organized Device. And this is my friend, er… Joan of Arc?” “NO. I’m Frank Smith. And you are?” “Bob,” said the short man. “Johnny,” said the big man. “Blobertson,” said the blob. “Nice to meet you all,” I said. “But, can you help us? We’re kind of on the run and we need a place to stay.” “Sure,” Bob replied. “Let’s get you on the boat.” Five minutes later, we were on the boat. Bob’s boat was a decent sized yacht with some seriously advanced equipment. He took Stu and plugged it into the helm. The A.I. drove the boat from the bridge while the four of us non-robots sat on the deck. Stu listened to the conversation through my phone. “So, run that by me one more time,” Johnny said, after I told him our tale. I ran it by him one more time. Bob sat back and whistled. “That’s one crazy tale.” “Blob. Blobbb. Blob blorb blobby blob.” That was Blobertson, in case you were wondering. Stu translated: “Well, we’ve been in some fun situations too.” We exchanged tales for a few hours, in which Stu declared that he very much enjoyed the jolly trio. “I like these people. And their boat. Can we stay here awhile?” I very much agreed with him. But it was not meant to be. A large Navy vessel appeared out of

the fog at exactly 3:34 P.M. “Hard to port!” Bob yelled, as he dropped his Coke and raced for the helm. Johnny uncovered a large weapon (a stun cannon, he told me later) and primed it. I stuck Stu in my pocket and followed Bob. Blobertson cleaned up our lunch and snacks. Stu, on the bridge, complied to Bob’s orders with gusto. The ship turned very hard to port and made for the fog. Bob and I were now on the bridge. Bob clicked a button and a captain’s wheel popped out. He floored the engines and we went into the fog. But the Navy ship fired. Six grappling hooks clawed into our vessel. Bob grimaced, perhaps contemplating the cost of repairs, and shouted at Johnny, “You planning on firing back?” Johnny called back, “Well, the stun cannon is still charging.” Bob muttered a curse most certainly inappropriate for a middle school literary magazine and tried to break us from the Navy boat’s grip. That proved useless when another six hooks embedded themselves in our side. In about thirty seconds, there was a team of Navy S.E.A.L.s (really? They sent S.E.A.L.s after me?) onboard the boat. We were arrested instantly. On the Navy boat’s bridge, the captain took Stu and plugged it into a computer, to confirm it was indeed their secret program. Once he did, he called Doctor Slimmel. An image of the computer scientist appeared on a large screen. Slimmel wore very thick glasses and a giant beard. He did not look like I expected him to look like. “Doctor Slimmel,” the captain began. “I have captured the fugitive and your secret program.” Slimmel just stared at him blankly. “Why? What fugitive?” The captain said, “Um… two days ago you put out a warrant for the man carrying your STUPOD system. I have him here.” Slimmel said, “I put out no such warrant. Check your files.” Indeed, there was no warrant issued from

Doctor Slimmel. So how to explain when the captain said, “Here it is, sir.” I wondered what in the world was going on. Then Slimmel said, “Ack! Someone has put out a fake warrant! We must catch them immediately. If they can hack me, we need to shut them down. Captain, release these men and STUPOD immediately. I have already begun work on a new program, anyway. Set sail for the island of Bermuda at once! You will receive further instructions on the way.” And just like that, we were free. So there you have it. My wild road trip along the East Coast with Stu turned out to all be a big misunderstanding. I still don’t get why they didn’t arrest me on the boat. I did blow up a building. But I guess they just forgot. (Or maybe they blamed Stu for it. I’ll ask him.) Everything was restored to normal, mostly. Still, life wouldn’t be normal for Stu and I for a loooong time. Stu joined Bob, Johnny, and Blobertson. I worked with Doctor Slimmel and helped him take care of the hacker. Eventually, we’d create a new A.I. that would go crazy. That misadventure would send us on a road trip along the West Coast. But that’s not for awhile. Maybe you’ll hear about it someday. Well, I hope you have been sufficiently entertained. That was fun, wasn’t it? We’ll definitely have to meet up again. So until next time, my friends! ◼

The Rain Came Unto Him Cameron Deroche

The rain came unto him Raining mercilessly, dripping down his chin God’s tears wiped away his mind Trapping him in an endless bind The whistling wind howled relentlessly in his ear He roared in anguish, longing to disappear A pummeling tempest led by Death Crashing waves stripped him of his final breath The rain came unto him, God and Death side by side Moonlight reflecting, the mirror of the tide Raindrops subsided to a mist, as she looked to the sea And she knew without a doubt, he was finally free

Followers

Natalie Mullens If I told you the truth, You would walk away, you would leave. I would be left with nothing, But the sword you had yet to sheath. The wound would run deep, And I would start to bleed, But still, I would follow you, Anywhere you lead. If I was behind you, I would surely be in pain, But if you were in front of me, You would know my name. Then the stars would turn, And they would shine so bright, That I’d let the world escape me, I wouldn’t care if It was right. And I would lay in your shadow, And the wind would wash my face, And I would be swept away For my Stupidity and Haste.

Songbirds

A White Sheep

Lucid thoughts flow here and there, Amid the thick and heavy air.

I look like everyone I see They all look just the same as me

All the people watch as I walk around, With my eyes above the ground.

I am exactly what the world exprects The one that they will not regret

Though they can never dissuade me, The burden of their scorn is heavy.

Because I am from that common space The powerful European place

Do I stand here all alone? In this place that should be my home.

But if you ask me where I’m from The answer will have come and gone

As they look at my tears and woe, Surely, they want me to go,

Ethnicity, that sacred word And yet my voice may not be heard

To leave their home in solemn peace, But do I want my stay to cease?

I am plain and I am fair And people like me always have their share

And leaving here would be right, Instead of staying through the night,

And so my race is left alone Because we have always had our home

But Home Is where the heart belongs And this is where I wrote my songs.

And I do quite understand That I was not why this Idea was planned

That tell of joy beyond compare And they are still mine to share,

I understand that you want to hear Stories that are less bright and clear

Can I really sound my voice, Above the constant endless Noise?

But I am here and I have a voice And this, this poem it is my choice

I want to tell them what I feel, These sentiments are more than real.

It hurts even just to think That it matters that my cheeks are pink

They drive our action, every day, To live and not give our lives away.

My looks have never mattered before But now you’ve opened up that door

I Told you that I’m standing here, Among everything I’ve come to fear.

And still you’ve ripped a painful hole Deep inside my heart and soul

This Joy, it won’t elude me for long, And I promise you will hear my song.

I do not know what else to say What if where I’m from doesn’t matter to me? Is that okay?

Natalie Mullens

Cecilia Of The Sky Soﬁya Moore

Mondays. Almost everyone sulked their sluggish puffy-coat-bundled bodies to first period after the harsh bell rang throughout the halls. The “almost” consisted of the few freshmen who thought it would be “cool” or “fun” to skip class, the 10 or so kids that unfortunately got caught up in their tissue-covered bed sheets because of the cold, unforgiving winter weather, and lastly Cecilia. She had completely lost track of time while she flew through the fluffy, white clouds and hovered over one of the many finger lakes that slithered across her state. She lost herself in the peaceful sounds of the running water and the soft rustling of the leaves that were still left on the brittle branches of the trees. Eventually, she was pulled out of her own head by the sound of her texting ringtone. Being so lost in her thoughts the sound startled her; startled her so much in fact, that she suddenly fell into the freezing water she was only moments ago barely hovering over. She felt like she was falling in slow motion, like she knew what was happening but couldn't do anything to stop it, then SPLASH. She fell under. She thrashed around in the icy water desperately trying to paddle her way back to the rocky shore where her warm jacket and thankfully dry backpack lay. Once she climbed up on a perch of conveniently placed chair-like rocks she found herself shivering violently. She curled her knees up to her chin in an attempt to stay warm, swung her winter coat around her shoulders, and fished around for her (probably dead) phone in her now uncomfortably tight jean pockets. Surprisingly the phone had just enough power (even after it was dunked in water) for her to read the text message and type a quick response. “Hey Ce, where are you?? We’re already 15 mins into first period!” It was Cecilia's girlfriend, Amber. “Dang it!” Cecilia thought, for more reasons than one. The first one being that she was late for school, the second had to do with her being soaking wet and the third, well the third was about her powers. Cecilia had superpowers. Yup. She had

the ability to fly and make small and/or light things around her float. The only problem was that no one other than her close family knew. It wasn't that she didn't trust Amber enough to tell her; no it was the exact opposite. She loved Amber more than anything in the world and that’s why she was afraid to tell her. She was afraid that this one thing that she had no control over would ruin everything they had together. (Pretty lame; she knew.) Again, getting lost in her thoughts she hadn't realized that she was making her coat and her phone float just above her shoulders. This was something that was happening lately: the floating. Whenever Cecilia got really stressed she made things float; accidentally, of course. And right now a lot of things were pretty stressful so the floating was understandable. It was a new school year, not quite the first day but still only a few weeks in. This time was different though because it was a whole new school. The year prior she attended Cascadilla High while Amber was going to their current school, Ithaca High School. After lots of endless pleading, she finally convinced her parents to let her transfer to be in school with Amber. So this year was different. It was her first year in school with Amber, the first year of them officially being official and there were a lot of new people. So she really wanted to make a good impression and try to fit in with the rest of the kids. Which was another reason for keeping her powers a secret. In High School fitting in was very important. And this year Cecilia was not going to let her powers get in the way of that. Another text message broke her out of her thoughts again. She really did get caught up in her head sometimes. This time the message didn't make her fall into the water but it did make her drop her floating phone and coat, which just added to the reasons why she was upset. This whole floating thing was really getting on her nerves. “Hey, babe is everything ok? Are you sick or somethin’?” Oh, right, speaking of school. … Cecilia thought for a moment.“What should be my excuse this time? Well since my phone and I

are soaked I could say that I got distracted on my phone... slipped on a rock maybe? And fell into the water on my way to school? Yeah, I guess that’s good enough.” So she typed the reply, got up, started to stiffly walk to school, and reminded herself to thank her mom for convincing her to keep an extra pair of clean clothes in her locker. But as she started walking away she couldn’t help but look back at the water and feel the tiniest bit of guilt. The halls smelled gross. They always did. It was that weird mixture of the extreme amount of Axe body spray, sweat, vanilla bean body scent, and scented pads. Gross! But grossness aside Cecilia had to walk through them after explaining what happened to the office staff. She was now the one who had to drag her sluggish, wet, winter coat-covered body to her locker and then third period, instead of first. Luckily for Cecilia, she and Amber had most of their classes together with the exception of 2nd, 5th, and 6th periods. So she was excited to get to see her in 3rd. Once she got her clothes from her locker she sprinted to the bathroom and desperately tried to wiggle out of her soggy clothes. When she finished she rang out the rest of the water from her clothes, hung them up on her locker coat rack, grabbed her binder and a few pencils, and went to go wait over at Amber’s locker (because there was no point in going to class when there were 5 minutes left). Once again she spaced out, thinking about her powers. They were really getting on her nerves and ended up being the source of many of her problems. She didn't like how she was losing control of them, and she also didn’t like lying to Amber. It made her insides swarm with butterflies and not the good kind. This time she wasn't snapped out of her head by the bell but by the bright shining smile her girlfriend gave her as she looked up from the school’s splotchy gray tiles. “Hey,” said Amber as she walked over. “Good to see you’re not soaked anymore. I missed you in first period…” she trailed off but then quickly added with another bright smile, “But I’m glad you’re ok now!” “Yeah, I missed you too,” replied Cecilia as she walked over to hug Amber. After their small embrace, they started walking together to 3rd

period. The walk was mostly silent until Amber piped up. “Oh! I almost forgot, we had a pop quiz in Ms. McReily's class and she wants you to stay after school to do it.” “Why can’t I just do it tomorrow at lunch?” Cecilia asked in return, clearly annoyed. “Haha, I'm not sure, math teachers are weird,” Cecilia giggled at that. “But it's not that hard so don't stress too much,” Amber added after their little laugh session. Well, that’s gonna be a problem. Cecilia wasn't great at tests. Even if it was just a small pop quiz. The words themselves scared here. The word “test” just sounded superior and strict. She was never able to focus, her head was always somewhere else. And on top of that Amber was crazy smart. So a pop quiz for her might actually have meant a 50 question calculus test. Ok, that may have been a little bit of an exaggeration but don't people know that when you tell someone not to stress about something, they’re more likely to stress about it? But anyway, she was never going to tell Amber any of this so all she did was smile back at her and nod. Even though Amber was crazy smart it didn't take a genius to know that something was up with Cecilia. “Hey, are you ok? Did I do something wrong?” she asked. “NO!” Cecilia said a little too loud. “I mean, no, it's ok I’m fine, you did nothing wrong,” she replied with a half-smile. “Ok if you say so, but you know that you can talk to me about anything right?” One problem though; she couldn’t talk to her about anything. She couldn't tell Amber about her powers, she didn't want to cause any problems. But of course, again she wasn't going to tell Amber any of this so instead, she just replied with a simple “yeah”. The rest of the day went pretty smoothly if you excuse the burning thought at the back of Cecilia's head about the quiz and her awkward conversation with her girlfriend earlier that day. When she finally made it to her first-period classroom her heart was pounding, her hands were clammy and her head was racing. She 15

hesitantly walked into the classroom, greeted her teacher, took the paper, sat down at a desk, and started the “quiz”. When she opened the packet, (yes the packet) she finally realized that this was no “pop quiz.” It wasn't a 50 question calculus test, but it definitely wasn’t a quiz. Her worry took over, making her get lost in her head. She got so lost she hadn’t heard the teacher get up from her desk, hadn’t heard her say she was leaving to go to the staff lounge for a bit, and definitely hadn’t noticed when she slowly started to float above her chair along with her desk, test, and pencil. PLOP. Her pencil falling on the floor pulled her out of her thoughts. She hadn't even realized it until now but, oh my god, she was floating! And so were the desks, and the pencils, and the chairs, and the weird blue globe that definitely didn't belong in an algebra classroom. She was toppling over in the air, doing somersaults and cartwheels uncontrollably. She couldn't stop moving, couldn't figure out what was wrong or how to make it stop. It was terrifying, She hated not being in control; it made her feel useless and scared. She was hyperventilating. “How do I get back on the floor??” This question was living in her head rent-free, playing on repeat. She usually loved the feeling of breaking the rules, defying the laws of gravity, but now she needed gravity more than ever. Cecilia’s head was swirling around along with her body and the rest of the things in the room. “How do I get down? What is happening? I need to get down! Can anybody see me? How did this happen? Why is everything floating? How am I able to float these desk and chairs? Where’s Amber-?” “Hey, Mrs. McRiley said you were in here taking a test and I just wante— Oh my god.” Speak of the devil. They locked eyes and stared at each other for a weird 2 seconds that definitely lasted more than they should’ve before Cecilia fell to the floor along with the desks, chairs, pencils, and that stupid globe. Well, this was going to be interesting. Cecelia hissed in pain as she hit the floor harder than she expected. She quickly squeaked out an

“I-I can explain!” in an attempt to save herself some embarrassment. “Cecilia what in the world just happened?!” Amber yelled as she now dropped the papers she was holding out of shock. “I can explain,” Cecilia said this time a little quieter. “How is that even possible? Did I even see that right? Cecilia, you better have a really good explanation.” “Amber, I-,” Cecilia started but was quickly cut off. “Look I’m just going to go. I’m probably sleepwalking. Waiting for Ms. McRiley was pretty boring...Yeah! That’s it, ok I’ll just leave-,” “Amber please just wait, hear me out,” Cecilia said, as she looked up to Amber with pleading eyes. “Okay,” replied Amber. Cecilia could feel her burning holes in the back of her head as she turned around and got up off the floor. “Just let me write a note to Ms. McRiley, and clean up this classroom and then I’ll explain everything, ok?” Cecilia stated more than asked as she started to pick up the fallen desks and chairs. All Amber could do was silently stand by the door and occasionally look up from the floor to glance over at Cecilia. Once Cecilia was done with cleaning the classroom (to the best of her abilities) she silently guided Amber outside and they started walking towards the lake Cecilia was submerged in earlier that day. When she finally reached some oh-so-familiar rocks, Cecilia turned round to face Amber and started to speak. “Ok, so I know what just happened was pretty weird-,” “Yeah, obviously, no-,” Amber cut in. “Amber, please let me finish,” Cecilia said, eyes now glued to the ground. “Okay,” Amber hesitantly responded. “Okay,” Cecilia started, “Look, this is going to

sound crazy and you’re not going to believe me, so I’m just going to show you,” Cecilia spoke as she slowly started levitating off of the ground. Amber’s jaw dropped as she watched Cecilia float into the air. “I can fly,” Cecilia blatantly stated. “Oh my god, what—, that’s—, this isn't happening,” Amber barely managed to choke out as she watched in awe. “Look, I know that it looks insane, but I just need you to trust me on this. I love you and would never lie to you about this, well excluding the fact that I lied about it to keep it a secret. But anyway I understand if this now damages our relationship, because I lied, and I’m a weird freak with superpowers. And I understand if you don't want to be with me anymore..” Cecilia continued. Amber’s face held shock, compassion, relief, and love all at once. And she quickly replied with, “What? Ce, no, of course not! This is a lot to take in but, of course, I still want to be with you. Why wouldn't I? This thing has no effect on you as a person or your personality. I love you despite your flaws, or your good qualities, or whatever you want to call this. And before you go and try to make yourself feel guilty about lying about it, I want you to know that I understand. Now of course I don’t have superpowers but I did have to come out to my parents. So I understand the feeling of keeping a major secret about yourself from people that you care about.” By the end of her little confidence boost speech, Amber had made her way back over to Cecilia and held her hands in her own. “I love you, ok? Don't you ever forget that. And I mean it when I say you can talk to me about anything. I understand that there are somethings that we don't have to share with each other but for the most part, I want us to be honest and open with each other, is that ok?” she asked.

“I'll be all cool with this if you take me up there with you one day.” “Up where- oh my god, you cheesy bastard,” Cecilia laughed as she nudged Amber’s shoulder with her palm. “It's pretty scary at first. Are you sure you can handle it?” she questioned as she looked up into the sky. “What?! What kind of question is that? Of course, I can handle it,” Amber said pretending to look offended. “Yeah, Yeah... Sure I'll take you some time,” Cecilia quietly said while still looking at the sky. “SCORE!” Amber yelled as she pumped her fist in the air. “Soon I’ll be one with the clouds,” she yelled as Cecilia started to walk away. “Whatever, don't get your hopes up!” Cecilia said over her shoulder with an eye roll. “Hey wait up!” Amber called in return “We can even come up with cool nicknames and everything. Like I could be Amber of the, the Plains, and you could be um, Cecilia of the Sky! Oh yeah, dude, that sounds sooo cool.” “Oh my god, don't ‘dude’ me,” Cecilia retorted with another eye roll and a snarl. Although on the inside her heart was smiling. “Cecilia of the Sky. Yeah, I could get used to that.” ◼

“Yeah ok. I love you, too. Thank you,” Cecilia replied as she pulled Amber in for a tight hug. Amber smiled as she wrapped her arms around her superhero girlfriend, responding with a quick “Anytime”. They stood in a comfortable silence for a while until Amber broke it with somewhat of a joke.

Too Late

Mengtong Xiang Arrows rained down on Janet at incredible speeds. She jumped high and hurled a javelin at the enemy. Sweat dripping and eyes narrowed, she sprinted inhumanly fast and pounced. I sat at the edge of my seat, a blanket swathed around me as I watched the scene unfold in flashing streaks before my eyes. They weren’t kidding when they said the newest episode would be absolutely fire. A sudden ding sounded from my phone as I ate the last handful of popcorn. I glanced at the glowing screen beside me and wondered who could be texting me at this time. As I halfheartedly tapped on the notification, a sharp mechanical voice cut through the air. Goosebumps rose on my arms as I listened. “Danger, danger! Danger is 10 miles away.” It ended as abruptly as it started with a faint click. I held my breath as I picked up the phone to see who the sender was. Anonymous, it said. Was this some sort of sick prank? Thinking surely it must have been one of my friends pranking me, I swiped the screen again trying to find who had sent this to me. Loud music and colorful animations played at the corner of my eye and I refocused on the movie, ignoring the foreboding feeling that sent a shiver down my spine. Just ten minutes later, another notification appeared on my phone with a ding. It was another voicemail, I braced myself for that horrid voice as I tapped on it, my finger shaking. “Danger, danger! Danger is 5 miles away.” A faint click once more ended the message. The fine hairs on my neck rose as I instinctively glanced around my living room. My eyes landed on the door knob. Wrapping the blanket tightly around as if it were a shield, I sprinted across the polished floor and tested the door knob. Luckily it was locked and it didn’t budge. I let out a deep breath that I subconsciously was holding in. I hurried back to the sofa feeling reassured. A

terrifying realization abruptly crept into my mind. Didn’t the first voicemail say that the supposed danger was 10 miles away? I replayed the first voicemail, then the second. That’s strange...it’s getting closer, I thought quietly to myself. I immersed myself back into Janet and her battle with the enemy. The glass stained windows leered menacingly down as if to remind me that anyone could easily break in. Upstairs would be safer, I thought to myself. Let’s not take any risks. My breath hitched in my throat as I began to sprint up the winding staircase to the safety of my bedroom. I jumped onto the bed and dragged the covers over my head, my pulse thumping so hard it was all I could hear. I grimaced, thinking how this was all so silly. “You need to pull yourself together, why are you acting like a baby, those voicemails are fake,” I scolded myself angrily. As soon as I uttered those words, my phone dinged once more. The lecture I just gave myself was all forgotten as I shakily fumbled around the covers for the phone, knowing what I would find. A green notification hovered below my finger as I contemplated whether I should press it or not. A cold wave washed over me as I heard the voicemail. “Danger, danger! Danger is 30 feet away.” Sweat poured down my body as I stayed still as possible. Oh no, dread filled me as I hurriedly laid flat on my stomach, hoping whatever the danger was that it wouldn’t see me. My previous doubts about whether this was fraudulent disappeared when I saw the accompanying text message that chillingly read, “Call 911.” Suddenly, I heard the distinctive sound of gravel crunching under rolling tires, I put my hand over my mouth to stifle a scream that had crawled up to the back of my throat. The front door creaked and groaned as someone twisted a key in the lock. I frantically typed in 911 on my phone, trying to steady my breath and calm the quickly building up panic. Right before I pressed the dial, a familiar voice spoke from the first floor. “Jenny? Honey, I’m home from work!” the familiar voice said tiredly. It was my mom or at

least someone who sounded like my mom. I uncertainly peeled away the covers and started to head downstairs. “Mom? Is that you?” I asked, my voice quavering knowing that if this wasn’t my mom then I would be as good as dead. “What type of question is that? Of course it’s your mom. Who else would it be? Sorry for coming home so late. I had some business to take care of at work.” she replied as she began to unpack her bags. “Well, I wanted to tell you about these voicemails I’ve been receiving tonight.” “Oh, really? What about them?” her voice was like a breeze, calm and collected with a hint of panic. She paused, waiting for me to continue. “It’s probably nothing important, but the voicemails were warning me about—” I stopped in mid-sentence, startled by a notification that flashed across my screen. Not again...I thought as I swiped the screen. Three letters appeared that chilled me to my core. “Run.” I stood there paralyzed and bewildered. Run from what? Another message appeared, leaving me more befuddled. “Danger is 5 feet away.” What danger? There’s no one around except for me and ….my mom, I thought to myself. Are they trying to tell me that my mom is dangerous? No way. I’d known my mother for twelve years and could confirm for a fact that she was one of the kindest and most loving people I knew. I ignored the gnawing anxiety in my stomach and hurried down the stairs. “What were you saying about those voicemails?” my mom asked with a peculiar, knowing visage. That’s when I noticed an off-putting smell. It was a mixture of cedarwood, rosemary, and a sharp metallic iron scent. A wet splotch of red dotted her sleeve. “Don’t worry about the voicemails, mom. They’re probably just from an obnoxious kid trying to prank me.” Just as I was about to head back up to my room, I noticed that my mom’s entire face had a rubbery silicone look to it. “Mom? What happened to your face?”

“My face?” My mom stopped mid-sentence and touched her face, seemingly caught off guard with my question. She quickly changed the tone of her voice and nonchalantly replied, “There’s nothing wrong with my face. I probably just need to cleanse it. It’s been quite an exhausting day for me.” “Ok mom, well, you better get some rest soon. I’ll cook you some food while you shower.” I headed over to the fridge and searched for some tomatoes and parsley. “What about some pasta?” Just as I turned around to wash the tomatoes, a hand appeared in midair and punched me hard in the jaw, knocking the air out of my lungs. Stars flickered in my eyes as the kitchen began to sway. A strong metallic taste filled my mouth as I cupped my bruised and bloody chin in my hands. It took me a couple seconds to process what happened and before I knew it a gruesome sight occurred before my eyes. My blood ran cold as I watched my mother tear off what I thought was her head. I was not frightened nor was I afraid. What I felt was beyond what words could describe. Another head appeared with a man’s features. Grizzly beard and a hooked nose, his eyes were full of hatred as he towered condescending over me. A chilling high pitched scream cut through the air; I didn’t realize it was my own until it was too late. He wrapped his calloused fingers fiercely around my neck. He was no longer human, a wild feral creature he was. “What did you do to my mother?” I desperately cried out in pure pain and fear. He could no longer hear me, a cloud of darkness came over his eyes as he raised a knife. Seeing the glinting razor-sharp metal sent adrenaline flowing through my entire body. Every strand of my DNA was embedded with a burning desire to live, to be alive, but it was just too late. My life flashed before my eyes like a flash of light before the darkness arrived. The piercing sharp metal blurred before me as it came crashing down. I shut my eyes and fell into a peaceful eternal night. My last thought was, why me, what did I do to deserve this? ◼

How a Stuffed Bear, a 14-year-old Exchange Student, and One VERY Unlucky Russian Grandmother *almost* Blew Up a Museum of Priceless Art Jack Franzel

Chicago had been without light for some time. But that’s not what this story is about. Nor is it about the adventures of Bob, Johnny, and Blobertson, though that is an amazing story, and you should definitely read it. This is the story of Devin Connor, and Ivan Ivanof. More specifically, it is about how a stuffed bear, a 17 year old foreign exchange student, and one very unlucky russian grandmother combined to almost destroy some priceless art. Moscow, Russia — 5:30am “Get up, come on, don’t want to be late!” said George. George was British. George was annoying. And George was asking for a punch in the gut. Which, incidentally, was exactly what Devin was in the mood for. Before his eyes were open, Devin’s fist connected with one of George’s ribs. The fourth one down on the left, to be precise. And this caused George to double over in pain, crying for help. This was the customary wake up ritual at the dorm, for the 5 boys from 5 countries. Jean from France, Wilbur from Germany, Mateo from Portugal, George (on the floor, still crying for help) from England, and Devin, from the US. But...George should have got up from the floor by now, shouldn’t he? Devin groaned as he opened his eyes and rolled out of bed. There he was, curled up in the fetal position, his chest contorted in an unnatural way. Immediately, Devin knew he had gone too far. He shook the other boys awake, told them to keep an eye on George, and ran to Ms Leikoshof’s room. Pounding on the door like George’s life depended on it, which it very well may have, Ms. L opened the door in her pink robe, looking very annoyed, and looked at him in disgust. Their chaperone was in her mid 60s, going on 100.

“What is wrong, Devin?” she said, her voice dripping with condescension. “George is hurt.” Her eyes wide, knowing she would be liable for any damages (to both the property and her wards), she sprinted down the stairs, into the boy’s dorm, and saw George’s pale face on the floor. She called Ivan, the proprietor, and then called an ambulance. Speeding around the corner came, less than a minute later, a white van, blaring it’s sirens, drifting around the corner and parking in front of the 18th century red brick building, the EMTs raced inside with a stretcher. He and Ms. L sat down on the bench inside of the ambulance, and less than 30 seconds later, the EMTs set George down on the bed in the middle of the vans cargo bay. In the hospital, many hours later, George’s punctured lung was stabilized, and he was allowed to talk, albeit in very short, 1 or 2 word responses. Of course, the first question the doctors asked was, “How did this happen?” And George muttered the natural reply, “Devin punched me.” Oh, George. So predictable. Devin had been on the street, already 10 blocks away, for more than an hour, dreading the moment his friend could talk. Because it was obvious. When George came to, fingers would surely be pointed. 10:30am — Foof A large, pink, stuffed bear fell not 2 feet in front of Devin’s head. Dirty, straggly, and mangey, the animal looked to be an old, well loved child’s toy. Unsure of what to do, he picked it up and looked around. He was under the Moscow ring road, the large highway that circled the inner city. The Moskava river lazily flowed to his right, and Strogynsky park, filled with laughing children, and their families, was to his left. Figuring the bear had been thrown by a child in the park, he jogged over and began asking around. No one recognised the bear, and after hours of searching, he gave up. Maybe it had fallen out of a trash truck. The

layer of grime coating the bear certainly made it look that way. This bear, he decided, would be his companion in all of his future adventures. But this brought up a greater question. Where would he (Devin, not the bear) sleep? Where would he eat? How would he live? He certainly couldn’t go back to the dorm. If he did, Ms. L would press assault charges. He had no money, so he couldn’t book a flight home. How would he even let his parents know that he was alright? He sat down on a bench, and stared blankly at the shop across the street. Why was the old woman at the register looking at him like that? Before he could get up and walk away, she had shooed her customers out, closed the shop, and hobbled across the street as fast as she could go. “What do you have there?” she said in heavily accented English. “Some stuffed bear I found. I was over in Strogynsky park when…” she cut him off. “I know. That is my granddaughter’s. And if she doesn’t get it back before 5 tonight, her father, Ivan, will destroy the RIM.” “What’s the RIM? Some sort of theme-park ride?” he said, nonchalantly. “No. It is a museum that houses hundreds of priceless pieces of art, from the impressionist era.” she snapped. “We must return it immediately.” “Ok, sure. Where can I find this Ivan?” “You don’t find him. He finds you. You must go back to Strogynsky, find Alek, his strong man, and get him to take you to Ivan’s hideout.” And that’s just what Devin did. He sprinted as fast as he could to Strogynsky, found the towering, blond, wall of muscle that happened to respond to Alek, and slapped him across the face. Before he could even step back, a hood went over his head and he was shoved into a van. 4:58pm

cold room, walled by cinder blocks and lit by a lonesome lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. He was tied to a chair with zip ties, and he could hear stair creaking as someone, hopefully Ivan, came to confront him. It was Alek. His face still red from where Devin’s hand had hit his face, his eyes aglow with a fiery hatred. In Alek’s hands, there was an iPad. And on that iPad was the face of none other than Ivan. The proprietor to his dorm. “Ivan, hey I know you! Listen, I found your daughter’s—” Devin was cut off by Alek shushing him, pointing to the unmoving face of his boss. “Hello, Devin. I have been informed that you have my daughter’s favorite stuffed animal. You are cutting it razor thin, Devin.” He backed up from the camera, showing him on the roof of the RIM. The chop-chop-chop of helicopter blades were loud, forcing Ivan to either shout, or not be heard. A small beeping cut through the racket, too, from the small bundle of wires in Ivan’s hand. “Yes, sir, I know. Please, I have the bear right here. Don’t do it.” “Ok, then. Alek, bring it to me. Devin, you are free to go.” Devin was astounded. Was it really this easy? Alek cut the zip ties binding him to the chair with a grunt of exertion, and Devin walked up the stairs. Into Ms. L’s office. Had the proprietor of his dorm really been running an organised crime syndicate from under said dorm? It sure seemed like it. Ms. L was waiting for him at her desk, surrounded by Jean, Wilbur, and Mateo, his roommates. She looked concerned, but relief washed over her when she saw it was him. “Oh thank god, Devin. I thought you had gotten run over!”

Devin looked around groggily. He was in a wet,

“Yeah, I’m fine. And so is the RIM, thanks to me.” “Your parents called. They want you on the first flight back home. We’ll miss you, Devin.” “I’ll miss you guys too.” “Now, go pack your bags. You’re leaving in an hour.” Takoma Park Middle School, Takoma Park, Marylan — 8:00am The bell rang, releasing Devin from the pressure of the cafeteria. Not emotional pressure, mind you, but actual, squishing of bodies. He calmly walked to his locker, and then looked out over the sea of kids. It was much more hectic here, but he loved it. Already, he had made an impression on his teachers, as the quiet kid. No one knew of his adventure yet, but he’d change that sooner or later. For now, he was content knowing that he was safe here. Safe to do whatever he wanted (within reason). ◼

white

Cynthia Li pure shining, blinding the touch of soft snow under warm fuzzy gloves bright yet serene the light of a lamp while reading at night easily flawed a touch of green a hint of youth on the petals of a rose made in heaven in flaws it finds beauty as it joins another a single snowflake softly drifting to unite with the snow below

Artwork by Angie Speer

Artwork by Coltrane Haisley Artwork by Angie Speer

Takoma Park Middle School 7611 Piney Branch Road, Silver Spring, MD 20910