Young Authors Booklet - 2011

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YOUNG AUTHORS AWARDS

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PREFACE This collection is a celebration of the literary talents and accomplishments of the provincial winners of the Ontario English Catholic Teachers’ Association’s 2011 Young Author Awards/Prix jeunes écrivains program.

Congratulations to all the provincial winners. The writing selections produced by these young authors remind us that the famous Canadian authors of the future are presently in our classrooms.

We also extend our congratulations to all the thousands of students across the province who participated in the classroom, school, and unit levels of the awards program. Everyone’s enthusiasm and hard work ensures that the Young Authors Awards/Prix jeunes écrivains program continues to grow and improve each year.

We also show appreciation to all the teachers – without whose inspiration and encouragement, the students would not have had the opportunity to challenge themselves and enter the competition.

The Young Authors Awards/Prix jeunes écrivains program would also not be possible without the hard work of many OECTA members across the province.

Teachers, school OECTA Association Representatives, Unit Presidents and Unit Executive members all play a critical role in administering the program in their respective classrooms, schools and units. The members contribute their talent, time and effort to preserve the spirit and continued success of the program, and to celebrate the outstanding work of our teachers and students.

Once again, thank you very much to all the dedicated members of the Ontario English Catholic Teachers’ Association who ensure that the program flourishes year after year.

Susan Perry Professional Development Department Ontario English Catholic Teachers’ Association

PRINCE AUCOINIA AND PRINCESS SHALLA GET KIDNAPPED

: St. Anne TEACHER: Cheryl MacRury SCHOOL

Elementary Junior and Senior Kindergarten Short Story

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Nanette Shonwise UNIT: Sudbury Elementary UNIT PRESIDENT: Kent MacNeill by

A S H LY N C A R R I E R E

O

nce upon a time there was a queen named Shata and a king named Michael who had a princess and a prince. The princess was named Shalla and the prince was named Aucoinia. They lived in a big, sparkly castle.

The prince and the princess got kidnapped because somebody hated them and wanted to be the prince and princess.

Queen Shata and King Michael sent guards to look for the prince and princess in a big house. The guards just pushed the door open with their feet. A big, ferocious giant had kidnapped them. The guards strapped him down with big chains and threw him in the big dungeon. The prince and princess were tied up.

The guards untied them.

The prince and princess went back to their mom and dad and they all lived happily ever after.

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T H E S N OW M A N

SCHOOL:

St. Basil Elementary Junior and Senior Kindergarten Poem

TEACHER: LORETTA ROSSIT SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Jeannette Burke UNIT: Dufferin-Peel Elementary UNIT PRESIDENT: Berni Campbell by

OLIVIA NICOLE CAPIRCHIO

I see a snowman in my yard He is pretty fluffy His snow is bright white And he looks pretty puffy.

He has a carrot nose Coal for his eyes He has a smile but His eyes are a prize.

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MY PENGUIN BOOK

St. Patrick TEACHER: Joanne Ruccella SCHOOL:

Elementary Junior and Senior Kindergarten Nonfiction

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Sharon Bain-Hengeveld UNIT: York UNIT PRESIDENT: Liz Stuart by

MARY JEAN CALLEJA

Penguins are black and white.

Penguins have flippers.

Penguins have feathers.

Penguins live in the Antarctic.

Some penguins live on the rocks.

Penguins eat fish and squid.

Penguins are afraid of sharks and seals.

Penguins waddle. Penguins swim.

Penguins cannot fly.

The daddy penguin looks after the egg.

The mommy goes to the sea to hunt for food.

There are seventeen different types of penguins.

The biggest is the emperor. The smallest is the fairy.

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T H E TA L K I N G S N O W M A N

St. Anthony Daniel TEACHER: Barb Kulig Donkers SCHOOL:

Elementary Grades 1 and 2 Short Story

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Michele McFee UNIT: Brant Haldimand Norfolk UNIT PRESIDENT: Len McDonald by

AUTUMN BLAD

One snowy afternoon the snowman in my yard came alive!

He walked. I said “Wow you are cool.” I can’t say “whatever” as it was too neat to see him alive. I thought it must be his birthday and that was why he came alive.

So I said “Happy Birthday.” He said, “It’s not my birthday, it’s God’s birthday. He’s our Christ. He’s our Lord. Can we go and find Him?” “Ok,” I said. “I’ll look with you.” We looked for tracks to find the Birthday Boy. “Where do we look now?

Do you have a map?” asked the Snowman. “Yes I do, right here in my bag,” I said.

I pulled out the map and we looked at it. “Here we go, God is in His palace up in the sky,” said the Snowman. I yelled, “Oh no! We cannot get up to the sky.”

Then light came down on us out of the sky and it shone on us. It was an angel.

She was so pretty and she said with a soft voice, “Do you want to see the Lord?”

We said “yes!” She had a wand and in a poof we were in a palace. It was beautiful and it was God’s palace. We were so happy to see God, the King and say Happy Birthday to Him. It was a very wonderful day. I am glad the Snowman came to life.

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I ’ M S M I T T E N TO O

St. Anthony Daniel TEACHER: Barb Kulig Donkers SCHOOL:

Elementary Grades 1 and 2 Poem

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Michele Mcfee UNIT: Brant Haldimand Norfolk UNIT PRESIDENT: Len McDonald by

PETER MARTYNIUK

You are the floor, I am the rug.

You are the coffee, I am the mug.

You are the chair, I am the pillow.

You are the music, I am the iPod. You are Captain Underpants I am the underwear.

You are mine, I am yours.

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P I N K I S AW E S O M E

Holy Trinity TEACHER: Sabrina Circelli SCHOOL:

Elementary Grades 1 and 2 Nonfiction

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Catherine Dixon UNIT: Wellington UNIT PRESIDENT: Jim Whitechurch by

SARAH CAUGHILL

P

ink is awesome because pink is the colour of yummy scrumptious cotton candy. It is also the colour of fluffy Easter bunny fur.

The colour pink reminds me of spring because in spring pink flowers pop out of my sweet smelling garden. The pink brightens up my garden! Eye shadow looks splendid, so does pink lipstick. I love the way pink lipstick glides across my lips! I love the dazzling, shimmery, bright, amazing colour pink! What is your absolute favourite colour?

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T H E P O TAT O D I A R Y

Queen of Heaven TEACHER: Rita Sanelli

SCHOOL:

Elementary Grades 3 and 4 Short Story

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Ernesto Arduini UNIT: Dufferin-Peel Elementary UNIT PRESIDENT: Berni Campbell by

CALEIGH CHAMBERS

MAY 3, 2010 Hi. I am Spud.

I’m just a seed. A potato seed in fact.

It’s pretty crowded in here and I think I’m in a bag... actually it’s a packet.

Almost everywhere I look is black, except a tiny thin row of dots of light above me.

Everyone is talking so loudly, it’s making my ears ache.

JULY 15, 2010 Today was my planting day.

All the other seeds have been talking about it for months. They say it was the worst thing ever. I think it was kind of fun. It was cold in the packet but it’s warm in the ground. I was talking to this very nice worm who was trying to tell me about dirt.

I fell asleep after the first minute. I think the worm is coming back. Better get going and growing.

SEPTEMBER 23, 2010 Today I got harvested. My sister got harvested yesterday and the last words I heard from her were, “This tickles!”

When I got harvested it was a whole different story. Today was pretty warm so Mr. Farmer took a break while the farmer’s son did the job and I guess he was having a bad day. Long story short, I nearly got mashed.

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SEPTEMBER 30, 2010 Today we went into this HUGE mover. Oh, do you remember my first entry and how I said it was dark and crowded? Well, it’s even darker and more crowded now.

My hand is in someone’s eyes (ha ha) and my head on another. A tater said he wanted to go to Ontario. I don’t know what that is. Maybe a farm? All I know is that I have lived my whole life in P.E.I and I’m happy here. Also...I think Mr. Worm snuck on!

OCTOBER 5, 2010 – 10:00 A.M We got off that horrid “box” two days ago but until today we just sat there. I found out we are in Ontario, a place in Canada. P.E.I is in Canada too, cool! To be more specific, I am in Country Fish and Chips. I am kind of nervous because chips are fries. Fries are potatoes. I saw how they make fries. Not pretty. Anyway, back to the story. We got picked up and thrown into warm water. Then I saw a lady put soap onto a sponge. She rubbed it all over me. I found out I was being washed and what comes after washing? Cutting. Oh yeah...I just noticed that Mr.Worm is actually here. He was being washed until the big lady saw him and flicked him across the room and he landed in a pan. Yummy - fish and chips and a side of worm.

OCTOBER 5, 2010 - 10:40 A.M. I’m back. Owwwww. I’m sore in all places that a potato can be sore in. I just got sliced. I counted how many pieces I was in. Seven whole pieces! You think that I would have control over all seven pieces. Wrong! Well, I found out that the Potato King of cutting place asks you which piece you want to control. I picked the piece that was closest to my heart. Although I did have a bit of a split personality about which piece I should have chosen.

OCTOBER 5, 2010 - 11:00 A.M I’m so happy! I’m in a hot tub filled with...wait...what is it that I am in?

Let’s just say: 1. I don’t look like a potato.

2. A crusty layer is around me.

3. I look yummy.

A potato named Pete just told me we were in oil and we were going to get eaten next. Yikes.

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OCTOBER 5, 2010 - 12:47 P.M Well, I’m on a plate with a fish that got fried too...with more fries. Hi Molly, Pete, Bob, Delila, Justin, May, Marie, Manny and Harry. Uh oh. I see a fork. Better run, Justin! Oh... Justin. Rest in pieces, Justin.

I don’t want to get eaten so I have a brainiac plan that I came up with.

The Get Out Now Plan...

1. Get off plate 2. Get off table 3. Get out of restaurant 4. Get on a bus 5. Get a job So... I just jumped off the plate. I ran out the door. I waited five seconds for a bus to come (tick tock, tick tock, ding!) I hopped onto the bus. I hope no one saw me.

I went to the back of the bus and thought about what job I should get. Maybe I can be a fire fighter or a doctor. Oh wait. Who would want to hire a runaway french fry?

I don’t think I can go all the way back home to P.E.I. I guess I will sit back and relax until my next adventure.

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T H AT B O Y

St. Leo TEACHER: Melanie Hodkinson SCHOOL:

Elementary Grades 3 and 4 Poem

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Cory McBride UNIT: Durham Elementary UNIT PRESIDENT: Dan Gryzwacz by

HANNAH HARKIN

That boy who lives across my street, Don’t think that he’s very nice and sweet.

Whenever I walk past his house, He runs out fast just like a mouse.

He hits and kicks and hurts me bad When I get home I feel so sad.

Whenever it happens, I keep it to me.

Nobody knows why I’m so sad. Why can’t they see?

Whenever I see that big, scary guy, I feel really worried and I want to cry.

Every day and every night, Everybody knows that it is not right.

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That is called bullying. Can’t you see?

That boy who is doing it, is doing it to me!

I want to stand up and I want to yell.

But I’ll get beat up badly if I tell.

Then one day, I decided to go up to him, so brave and with no fear.

There is something that I wanted him to hear.

“You...the boy who hurts me...stop this right now!”

So that boy turned around and I said, “OH WOW!” That day is now over and I have nothing to lose, So I go to that boy and show him my bruise.

I left feeling very proud.

I felt like I could stand up to a crowd.

I went to my Mom and told her it all.

I said it was over and that was my call.

My Mom was surprised and had nothing to say.

But she said at last, “It all stops today!”

I went to bed happy, not worried about the next day.

That boy is a bully and now he’ll stay away.

The good part now is that everyone knows.

The day will now go smoothly wherever it goes.

If you ever get bullied be sure to tell!

Tell a parent or adult and give details. Say it clear and say it well!

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G R OW I N G U P

St. David TEACHER: Jessica Pulla SCHOOL:

Elementary Grades 3 and 4 Nonfiction

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Carol Cuthbertson UNIT: York UNIT PRESIDENT: Liz Stuart by

M AT T E O P E R R U Z Z A

H

ave you ever heard your parents say, “When I was your age we never had this or we never did that”? My parents are constantly reminding my brother and me how we have it better than they did when they were kids. Maybe they’re right. After all, growing up today versus back then has really changed. Let me tell you how.

Today, there are three types of car seats to keep us safe. There’s rear-facing, forward-facing and finally booster seats for bigger kids. None of this existed back then. It’s amazing, when my parents were babies they didn’t get hurt.

When my parents were kids, the popular cartoon shows were, Road Runner, Bugs Bunny, The Flinstones and Popeye. They were only on Saturday mornings, and sometimes before or after school. Now we have Treehouse, Family Channel and YTV that run 24/7! Plus there are over 150 other channels, movie channels, Rogers on Demand, PVR and DVD’s so we can watch whatever we want, when we want.

In my parents’ time, they had big, bulky computers called Commadore 64. The screen looked like an old-fashioned TV. Now, computers are thinner, lighter and smaller. We have so much choice: laptops, iPads, and more. Not to mention email, Youtube and internet. Forget about encyclopedias, just “Google” it.

If I ever say, “I’m bored” my dad tells me the same story over and over. He says, “When I was your age, I only had one dinky car that I shared with my brother.”

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That’s not even the end of the story because he always has to remind me that the paint was all chipped because they played with it so much. He’ll say, “How can you be bored? You have Lego, Wii, Gameboy, DS and action figures!” Moreover, if I get a present I don’t really like, I don’t dare complain, because this is what I’ll hear, “What? You don’t like your present? You know what we got at Christmas when we were kids? SOCKS AND UNDERWEAR!” Eww! Gross!

Between an I-phone and a Blackberry, everyone nowadays has a cell phone. My Nonno still thinks a Blackberry is a fruit you grow on a tree! We can get a hold of anyone, whenever we want. When my dad was a kid, he would walk to a friend’s house, knock on the door and hope they were home. Then he’d play outside until the streetlights came on. That’s how he knew it was time to go home. Either that or your Mom or Dad would yell out your name like this; “M-A-T-T-E-O!” and then you know you better go home.

The more I think about it; maybe my parent’s generation wasn’t so bad. They got to play outside until it got dark and got to go to a friend’s house without waiting for someone to make a “play date.” Besides, I tell my dad that I would have liked to have grown up in his generation just so I could have seen all the famous Hall of Famers like: Joe Montana, Jerry Rice, Wayne Gretsky, Roberto Alomar, Baggio and Maradona. All I can do now is “YouTube” their highlights.

So, the next time you say you’re bored or that you have nothing to do, think twice, because maybe we do have it good after all.

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WAT E R WAY

Holy Spirit TEACHER: Margaret Prince SCHOOL:

Elementary Grades 5 and 6 Short Story

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Margaret Keenan UNIT: York UNIT PRESIDENT: Liz Stuart by

ANNIKA MAULUCCI

B

OOM!!! Leila awoke suddenly and jumped to her feet as she glanced out the window. What she saw was not the view we get to see out of our windows, instead, she saw war. She sat on her bed and cried into her hands. She really hated seeing the devastation of the ongoing war. It was truly happening outside her window. Every day she prayed for the war to end and peace to come but it seemed like God wasn’t going to answer. Leila lay back down and thought to herself, How can I stop the fighting and spread peace throughout the world?

Then, she had an idea.

She went into her father’s old wood shed and got some supplies. She needed nails, a hammer, wood, and a saw. She cut and nailed and hammered right through the night and into the morning, her masterpiece was finished. It was a beautiful little wooden boat. Her plan was to set this ship sailing in the river by her house.

She would ask people to put their own meaningful sayings and stories in the boat and then set it back in the water to go to the next person. She hoped people would be inspired by each other and work harder to create a peaceful world for all of us.

Leila hoped the boat would succeed on its endless mission of peace.

That very afternoon, the little boat began its long journey. Leila read her note in her head one last time before putting it back in the boat. The letter saidDear Reader, In my home, war is happening. I pray that someday we will live peacefully with each other. We have to stay strong and stand up for what we know is right and I know peace is right.

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She also wrote a note telling people what to do when they found her boat. She really hoped her plan would work. She set the ship in the water and watched it float away. Little did she know, this ship had a long way to go.

Leila watched for a while, then left. The current gently pulled the boat along.

Just as the sun was about to set, the boat made its first stop. A poor young fisherman sat on the shore near the river. He pulled in his nets and to his dismay, all he caught was the little wooden boat. He knew he couldn’t go home empty handed, his family lived off the fish he caught. Just as he was about to throw back his nets, he noticed a note in the ship. He picked it up and read it. He laughed at Leila’s crazy dream but silently hoped it would come true. He pulled out a small notebook and wrote his story down. Here’s what he wroteDear Reader, I am a poor fisherman who works hard for his family. I dream of someday being able to provide my family with what we need. My advice to people everywhere is to stay strong and not give up, for someday, we will all have what we need.

Then he gently put the boat back in the water and watched it float away. The fisherman put his nets back in. A few minutes later, he pulled them back out and they filled were with fish! He yelled out in happiness. The wooden boat’s journey had begun.

The little boat floated through the water once again. Tiny waves lapped at its side and the sun shone down on it. An old blind woman happened to be walking out on the shore with her husband. The husband noticed the little boat. He reached down to pick it up. He grabbed the two notes and read them to his wife. She smiled and wished Leila luck. Her husband pulled out a scrap of paper and asked his wife what to write. This is what she saidDear Reader, Be thankful for every rainbow and every sunset, for one day, it may no longer be there for you to see. Be thankful for what you have and remember how lucky you are.

The old woman folded the paper up and placed it back in the boat. The little ship had only gotten a few feet when a very thankful old woman cried out. She was no longer blind and in the sky was the most beautiful sunset for her to see. She burst into tears of happiness and thanked God for the little boat.

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While her little wooden ship was making people’s lives better, Leila had her own problem. Her dad had gone to fight in the war. The war had now ended, but her father had not returned. Her family feared the worst but refused to talk about it to each other. Every day Leila would stare out the window and cry. She didn’t know whether to keep waiting or just give up. Either way, her father had still not come back.

Though Leila’s spirits were down, her boat kept sailing. A young woman was sitting on an old wooden dock. Her name was Holly and her hands were recently paralyzed. She loved to draw, but feared her disability would make it impossible to ever draw again. The wooden boat floated up to her. She did her best to grab the three notes with her paralyzed hands. She read all three out loud then smiled broadly. As she gently touched each note her hands became better. She wiggled her fingers then reached into her pocket for a pen and paper. She wrote down her storyAccept the things you know you can’t change, but change the things you know you can. Don’t let anything stop you from doing what you love to do.

She dropped her note in the boat along with the other notes, and then ran excitedly up to her house to draw. The little boat sailed away.

The boat’s journey had taken it very far, but it had one more special stop to make. One day Leila was sitting down by the river talking to herself. Just then, a familiar wooden boat sailed up to her. She read the letters out loud and began to smile and laugh; her plan had worked! She was rereading each note carefully when she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned to see that it was her dad! She hugged him tightly and cried tears of joy. Then her dad handed her a little piece of paper.

This is what it saidWhen I felt like I was going to die, all I had to do was think of you. When I’m scared or uncertain, all I have to do is remember your smile. Even if I wasn’t here I’d still love you like I was. Every breath I take is because of you and every drop of blood flowing through my veins is because of what you’ve given up for me. God only makes us face problems because he knows it will make us better people, and that’s what you are proof of.

Though tears welled in her eyes she folded the note and placed it in the ship. Then she turned and walked off with her dad. The little ship began its journey again.

The End

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M Y G R A N D FAT H E R

School: Father F.X. O’ Reilly Teacher: Heather Daly School Staff Representative: Nadia Shoemaker Unit: Simcoe Muskoka Elementary Unit President: Joe Martone by

Elementary Grades 5 and 6 Poem

L E I G H T O N A S H T O N C O S TA N Z O

He never complains about aches and pains, And doesn’t walk with the use of a cane.

In fact, not a wrinkle on his face, And to the dinner table he will race!

He might be getting old at eighty-eight, But he’ll never make excuses or get up late.

The ladies they still find him charming, But his heart will always belong to farming.

He likes to grow all kinds of his favourite beans, And long zucchini like you’ve never seen!

When you visit and need something you’ll just have to look, ‘cause he likes to store and hoard things in every little nook.

He was a sailor once in a real submarine, And can raise his voice to sound kind of mean.

He likes to watch Looney Toons and westerns of John Wayne, And visit my grandmother’s cemetery not far down the lane.

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He always gives me presents of blackberries and pears, And never seems to worry or have any cares.

Every year he gives me a small jar of money, From pennies, to nickels to dimes, it’s quite funny!

When he sends you a bottle of his wine, You know he enjoyed your company and to come back any time.

He has an Italian accent that is strong when he talks, And a little shuffle I’ve noticed when he gets up to walk.

He is sentimental about old times, family and friends, And shakes his head at all the new and latest trends.

His whiskers scratch my face when he bends down for a hug, This always gives my heart strings a tiny little tug!

I do not see my Grandfather as often as I should, But I’d love him and hug him every day if I could.

He’s the only grandparent still alive that I’ve got, So I want him to know that I love him an awful lot.

He’s getting older, yes I know, But in my heart I’ll never let him go.

I hope he sees me grow tall and strong into a man, For he is my “Nonno,” and I his biggest fan!

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F E R D I N A N D M AG E L L A N

St. Timothy TEACHER: Herman Janssen SCHOOL:

Elementary Grades 5 and 6 Nonfiction

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Christine Edgar UNIT: Waterloo UNIT PRESIDENT: Michael Devoy by

J U L I A K U LC Z Y N S K A

TUESDAY, MARCH 3RD, 1517 SEVILLE, SPAIN 19:00 The time has come for me to show the world, or at least Portugal, what I can do.

Like all other explorers, I have a dream. A dream to travel to the Spice Islands. The Spice Islands: also known as Moluccas. Many explorers have that impulse to voyage to the mythical chain of islands known as the Moluccas. It’s a Spanish Explorer’s instinct to travel to there, and bring back things people could never imagine existed! I bet you (you as in whom I am speaking or writing to) are thinking, why the Moluccas? Well, in the Moluccas, there are very many and rare spices like nutmeg and cloves. Spices are very expensive as they are treasured. They are also used for medicine or for making foods taste better. It is almost a race to the Spice Islands, between Spain and Portugal. Whomever claims the Islands first will be a very wealthy and powerful country.

Since my parents died in 1490, when I was ten years old, I have become more educated, and later, I became a soldier. But after the frightful years of war, I wanted to become an explorer. And every good explorer voyages to faraway lands, and brings back unknown riches.

The only flaw in my plan is that foolish man! The man who denied my only chance of making history, that man who everyone in Portugal calls King Manuel!

He is the one who denied my request to sail to the Spice Islands. I asked three times to that old man, and all he does is say, “No, no, no!” A man like me can’t afford a

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ship and a crew. I need someone greater to help with my meager financing. So what did I do? I asked to look to another country for support, and my permission was granted! So that I did, and this I ask myself; Did it work? The answer? Yes! King Charles of Spain gave me five ships: Vittoria, San Antonio, Concepcion, Trinidad, and Santiago. I will be boarding the Trinidad.

So here’s the plan: - I would meet a man named Ruy Faleiro, a cosmologist, who studies the stars and the planets. He would show me that Moluccas is most likely in the territory that I considered Spanish, according to the Treaty of Tordesillas.* - We would decide that I should go in a westward direction into a strait somewhere in South America. Then, I travel to the Moluccas.

- I would stay back in Spain for a while waiting for the ships to be built.

- The ships are to be stocked with a large amount of fresh water, meat and dried fish, and 500 butts of wine.

Most likely by 1519, my crew and I will be ready to set sail!

MONDAY, AUGUST 12, 1519 SEVILLE, SPAIN 6:00 It’s been two years since I asked for permission from King Manuel to sail to the Spice Islands and now it’s finally here! We have just set sail on the Trinidad and the other ships are now following. Now, it is the time. The ships were built in two years and they were packed with food and water, the crew was all set, and I was just shaking in my boots with excitement! Nothing could extinguish my happiness!

Well, that was until I found a note. It was a note from my father-in-law, my wife Beatrice’s father. He cares about me a lot, and what the note was about, I had no idea. To me, it did not make sense. Not until it mentioned the name of King Manuel. Here is what the note said: Dear Son-in-law, Beware! A man of great power has your life in his hands. At any moment he could attack! That man is King Manuel! He has sent spies on your journey to invade your ships and to take revenge upon you! They are going to stage a mutiny and seize *

Treaty of Tordesillas: an agreement between Portugal and Spain that the world would be split in half and one half would be Portugal’s and the other half would be Spain’s.

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command of all the ships! He wants to make your voyage as terrible as possible. He made sure your food supplies are mouldy and stale. You must keep your eyes peeled, because those spies are everywhere.

Please stay safe, and make sure that no mutiny will occur.

Sincerely, Your Father-in-law Surprised, I was not. What kind of fool does he take me for? Of course King Manuel would want to take revenge upon me! I sided with Portugal’s worst enemy, King Charles I of Spain! If I was a king and one of my people sided with my worst enemy, I would be furious! Ah, but I would not get revenge. No sir, that is what I call “malevolence.” Only a man with a heart of stone would be so cruel as to send spies on a ship and rebel against the legal authority. What I would do is knock my head against the wall repeatedly, and go back to my business. Alas, I am not a king. I am just a lowly man. However, I may be just a lowly man, but I will be a lowly man who made history! Ah... patience. I need patience, for I will soon make it to the Moluccas. Just a few more days... or weeks... months? Do I dare say the final option? I’d rather not and just think positive. Regrettably, positivity I am lacking...

THURSDAY, 23 NOVEMBER, 1520 SOMEWHERE IN THE ATLANTIC OCEAN 21:00 It’s been over a year since we ported from Seville. The crew is getting cranky, and I can almost smell the mutiny in the air. I picked out all of the spies on this ship already. Why have I not done anything yet? I have to wait until the opportune moment. I have a feeling that they might crack soon. People are looking at each other like they are something to eat. Most importantly, they are looking at me like I’m a rat with rabies. Whenever I talk to my crewmates, they quickly end the conversation, and run away. Even my first mate is running away from me. Everyone is running around like chickens with their heads cut off.

When I was recruiting men for the voyage, they were men who were desperate, disreputable men who no one else would employ. They did not know what they were up against. Real sailors are afraid of travelling into the unknown, and do not want to voyage with those kinds who are unafraid.

Paranoid I am not. I know when and where they are going to stage the mutiny on the ships. For I am not a bumbling idiot. I have a brain! But I too have a plan for

21

when they begin. Ringleaders are those who have the guts to lead a mutiny. Those ringleaders will pay the price of a blade to their throats, or a good long stay with a noose around their necks! Wait... I thought I heard someone coming...

FRIDAY, 24 NOVEMBER, 1520 SOMEWHERE IN THE ATLANTIC OCEAN 1:00 A few hours ago, I might have been killed if I had not heard anything in the galley.

My cabin is right beside the galley, or as some may call it; the kitchen. It was one of my crewmates who was walking in the galley. I had one of my men slit his throat.

He was obviously one of the ringleaders to come through the kitchen at that time of night. It was 21:00! Who would go to the galley for a night snack at that time?

Regardless, I have completed my job. When you look for the ringleaders now, you will be unsuccessful. Unless you look to the sails... That’s right! I hung my ringleaders! They are now hanging twenty feet high, off the spars! I had specifically told myself that if they mess with the captain, they will pay the price. I should have told them earlier. It’s so self-explanatory! Mess with the captain, pay the price!

What fool could not understand that? Well, those poor saps must have cracked.

Two years on a ship with little experience. They must have gotten frightened. Well, I did get a few experienced sailors on the Trinidad, men like Juan Sebastien del Cano. Those men are going to make their fortunes in the Spice Islands. Oh well... it’s all over now. I predict we will hit shore soon. We have to. If not, then let me be caught in a treacherous storm.

FRIDAY, 24 NOVEMBER, 1520 ALONG THE COAST OF AN ISLAND 4:30 It was terrible! I didn’t know what was going on! I believe I had cursed myself by writing, “If not, then let me be caught in a treacherous storm!” How unwise I am!

My travels are going to be hard now. Much, much more difficult.

The storm started at 2:00. I was in my cabin, sleeping when I heard many footsteps echoing up on deck. Then loud voices, screaming in terror and anger. I was frightened, and confused. I didn’t know what was going on. I quickly ran up to the deck, and found water flooding the floor boards. The sails were ripped, the spars were shattered and chips of wood were flying through the air. I could barely see through the heavy rain, but I could hear bells ringing and someone shouting,

22

“All hands, all hands!” I saw blurs of figures running along the deck. The storm was vicious, close to a hurricane. My crew needed my help to tell them what to do, and to help them with the sails. The sails needed to be taken down, and then the current of the waves would send us out of the storm. If we kept the sails up, the wind would have blown us down, and the ships would rest at the bottom, on the ocean floor.

We defeated the storm in two hours. We lost the San Antonio, and the Santiago.

The Santiago was taken down by the storm, and the San Antonio sailed back to Spain. What cowards...Now we are left with the Trinidad, Concepcion, and the Vittoria. The worst thing is that the San Antonio took most of the food and water.

All we were left with now is sawdust and rats. Everyone will suffer from scurvy and many will die. My crew must stay strong. If we want to get to the Spice Islands, we mustn’t weaken.

A good thing happened once we took down the sails. I saw sunshine coming out of the clouds. It was like heaven peaking through the sky. We left the storm behind, and the waters were calm. So calm. I named it the Pacific Ocean. Pacific means peaceful.

I haven’t gotten a blink of sleep. I must rest.

SUNDAY, 19 JANUARY, 1521 DISAPPOINTMENT ISLAND 15:00 We saw land today. It was the most beautiful island I had seen, except for the dark clouds around it. We tried to anchor the ships, but there was no harbour. We named it “Disappointment Island.”

TUESDAY, 6 MARCH, 1521 THE ISLANDS OF THIEVES 17:00 The ships anchored on an island today. Locals started to steal things from the ships, so we took off. Many of my crewmen were dying of scurvy. Scurvy is a lack of Vitamin-C. When you get scurvy, your gums start to bleed, and you lose your teeth.

Your joints swell and ache, and your body becomes covered in sores. It’s a nasty cycle, and survival is very unlikely. Twenty men have already died. It’s terrible, and I don’t have an idea if the ships are close to the Spice Islands yet.

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WEDNESDAY, 16 MARCH, 1521 THE ISLAND OF CEBU 7:00 Today, we anchored on a safe island called “The Island of Cebu.” The locals are very friendly, and they gave me and my crew palm oil, bananas, coconuts and fish. We are resting and regaining our strength here. While staying on the Island of Cebu, I have named it the “Philippines” in honour of Crown Prince Philip, son of the King of Spain. In return for everything the islanders have done for the crew and me, I gave them bells, mirrors, and lengths of brightly coloured clothes. We am promised to fight in the war with the islanders against the neighbouring islands of Mactan.

I was sure our guns and swords will defeat the Mactan islanders. The final thing we did was baptize the islanders as Christians.

Although everyone is well fed, many of my crew members now rest in a sandy grave because of tropical diseases like malaria.

Now, all we have to do is fight in the war and hope for the best.

SATURDAY, 20 MARCH, 1521 ISLAND OF MACTAN 18:00 I don’t have much time. The war has begun. Mayhem is at every corner, and men are dying. It’s terrible, but I don’t have enough time right now. I have to go. This may be the last-

MONDAY, 30 JULY, 1523 SEVILLE, SPAIN 13:00 A terrible war between two neighbouring islands occurred on the 20th of March in 1521. Ferdinand Magellan and forty of his crewman were stabbed to death in the Philippines. After the war, there were only two more ships left. The Concepcion’s hull was infested with teredo worms. The worms ate holes into the wooden planks, causing them to crack and crumble. The ship could not be repaired and so was burned on the shore of the Island of Mactan.

Juan Lopes Carvalho took command of the two ships, Vittoria and Trinidad.

Carvalho was very jealous of Magellan’s success, and he wanted to claim all of the credit for himself.

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The crew set sail on June 1521 for the Spice Islands. By November, the ships arrived at the Moluccas. The harbour of Ternate was one of the busiest in the Spice Islands. That was where the crew got most of their riches. Once they collected everything they needed to bring back to Spain, the Vittoria started to head home.

The Trinidad was a bit damaged, and needed to be repaired. The men who were sailing on the Trinidad stayed behind in the Moluccas, and the men who were sailing on the Vittoria went off to Spain.

The Trinidad was caught in another storm, and sailed back to the Spice Islands.

The ship was then captured by Portuguese soldiers and the crew was imprisoned.

Only four of the men got back to Spain.

The Vittoria’s route home from the Spice Islands to Europe took from December 1521 to September 1522. They sailed across the Indian Ocean and around southern Africa, then on to the Cape Verde Islands in the Atlantic Ocean.

Their stock of food and water was extremely low, and they were all very ill and tired.

The Portuguese soldiers captured thirteen of the Vittoria’s crew members and send them off to prison.

They finally reached Seville on the 8th of September 1522. Many people were shocked to see the Vittoria return to Seville, because everyone thought they sank.

Many people were also very sad, because not everyone survived.

King Charles of Spain requested Del Cano and the crew to the palace to share their story.

After a few days, the men were freed and sent home.

Ferdinand Magellan was known forever as a “brave and noble captain” because he bravely told his men to leave him and save themselves during the war. Although he never made it to the Spice Islands, he will always be remembered for his bravery and leadership. May he rest in peace.

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NEVER LET ME GO

St. Mary TEACHER: Anne Parkhill SCHOOL:

Elementary Grades 7 and 8 Short Story

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Anne Parkhill UNIT: Brant Haldimand Norfolk UNIT PRESIDENT: Len McDonald by

DESTINY ROSE BOMBERRY

CHAPTER ONE My life hasn’t been a sturdy road; it’s got a whole load of bumps and curves. When I was seven the general (the big leader) at my dad’s military base came to our home with bad news and tears in his eyes. I guess the thing about it is that I never met my dad before and I was supposed to meet him within the next month. When my mother found out my father died she isolated us in her room for a whole week.

I lost at least ten pounds that week from lack of food.

About five years later at my twelfth birthday party I fainted. When I woke up I had chest pains and my finger nails weren’t pink but...purple. All day my mother panicked waiting for the doctor to come back with answers. I remember, but vaguely, when the doctor came back with my charts and cold eyes as well as a tight, stern smile. Dr. Marly hauled my mother out of the room and I could already hear soft sobs from my mother. When the doctor was done talking to my mother, she rushed to my side and took my hand in her hands.

I remember being frozen stiff and not being able to say anything as my mother explained that my heart wasn’t in good enough condition to continue some of my activities such as sports. By the time I asked why, my fingertips weren’t pink anymore and my chest hurt when I breathed. My mother’s shirt was already drenched in salty tears.

“Mom.” I remember sobbing in her hair.

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“Everything is going to be ok.” But for some odd reason I knew that that wasn’t even close to being the truth.

It’s been three years since that painful day and things have only gotten worse.

It’s gotten so bad that mom pulled me out of school, and I can only go back once every week to visit some friends. I’ve been excluded from anything that my mom thinks will speed up the process for my bad heart. I can’t even draw anymore because I can’t stand looking at my finger tips.

I followed the cracks on the ceiling trying to find an ending, but of course I couldn’t before my vision blurred for a moment.

“Dang.” I had lost my place on the ceiling. I slowly crept out of the covers and made my way to the bathroom feeling sick. I hunched over the toilet and barfed.

“Great start to a day,” I said to myself. My hearing focused on the footsteps making their way to my room.

“Mom,” I called. Within seconds she was in the door with cautious eyes.

“Isabella why are you sitting on that dirty floor?” I clutched my stomach and started sobbing.

“I don’t feel so good, mom.” She was at my side in moments.

“Do you want to see Dr. Marly?” I wasn’t too sure whether or not I was up to visiting the hospital.

“No. No. I’ll go tomorrow.” Now my mom wasn’t sure whether she was going to have to force me to go or not.

“Fine. Let’s get you back in bed.”

“Mom?” “Yes.” She held me under my arms, pulling me off the floor.

“Can we watch a movie when we get back from the hospital tomorrow?” She gave me a bright smile.

“Of course.” I crawled back under the covers, feeling the chills come over my body. It took an hour for me to get in a comfortable spot and drift into deep sleep.

CHAPTER TWO In the morning I woke up drenched in sweat, with chills and every inch of my body aching.

“Mom,” I screamed the word at the top of my lungs.

“What?” Mom rushed to my side and placed her hand on my forehead.

“I’m aching all over and it feels like there’s an elephant standing on my chest.”

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“Come on let’s go.” She hauled me out of the bed and put me on her back. “It’ll be ok honey, we’ll be at the hospital soon.” When we finally made it outside it was warm as the desert.

“Do you want to lie down in the back?”

“No.” “Do you want to sit in the front then?”

“Sure.” I crept into the front seat and wiped the sweat from my face. Before I knew it, I was crying. No one would notice because I was sweating so much.

Why me?

Why now? What did I ever do?

“Honey, why don’t you try to sleep?” She was right I should try and sleep.

I closed my eyes and stopped the flow of tears.

“I’m afraid to sleep.” I knew she was burning holes into the side of my head for saying that.

“Well don’t be, there’s nothing to be afraid of.” Why don’t I believe her? *** When I woke up, tubes were shoved up my nose; I was hooked up to machines, and dressed in a hospital gown. In the distance I could hear my mother and the doctor heading toward my room. A bright light went off in my head: maybe I could find out what was really wrong with me if I pretended to be asleep. As they entered the room I closed my eyes and acted as if I were asleep.

“Doctor, please tell me what’s happening to my Isabella.” I heard the doctor lay down his charts and sit on the edge of the bed right across from my mom.

“Well, her system is failing.” I knew right now my mother had a confused look on her face.

“Is this why she has the chills and is not eating, and also why she’s throwing up every morning and after every time she eats?”

“Yes that’s part of it, but it could be much worse, Sarah.”

“Like?”

“This doesn’t matter right now. As long as Isabella doesn’t have any other symptoms, we shouldn’t have to worry about them.”

“How long does she have left to live?” Wait, what? Why is my mom asking when I’m going to die?

“Well, with the condition of her heart, she has a day or two left.” Mom started bawling and breaking down. I felt so bad for her; she’s already lost dad and now she’s going to lose... me.

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“Sarah, don’t cry.”

“I’m going to lose my little girl.”

“Sarah, I have a serious concern.”

“What?”

“Do you want Isabella to die here in the hospital hooked up to machines or at home with her mother in a familiar place?”

“I know it sounds really selfish but I want her to die in my arms with me. I want to hold her in my arms until I can’t feel or hear her breathing.”

“It’s not selfish whatsoever Sarah, I just need you to sign some things and we can discharge Isabella and from there you two can spend her last day or two together.”

When Dr. Marly and my mom left the room I opened my eyes and tears flooded the rims and spilled out leaving trails and streaks. I don’t want to die. I’m too young and innocent.

Before my mom re-entered the room with my belongings I swiped my tears away like they had never fallen on my cheeks in the first place.

“Ready to go honey?”

“Yeah let’s go home.” I walked the hallways with my arm linked with my mom’s.

Within a forty-eight hour period I’d be...dead.

When we got home, mom had to run out to get ice cream and a movie from Jumbo Video. I slowly walked toward the loveseat and sat on the edge and hung over the side.

“I hate my life.” I jumped off the couch and ran around the house trashing everything. I went through the cupboards throwing glass cups, plates, and bowls.

I then headed to my room and started streaking my clothing everywhere. I tipped my dresser over and then threw my books all over the room. I went to the bathroom and stared at my complexion in the mirror.

My skin was chalky white, my eyes were a deep chocolate brown, and my hair was a dark wavy brown that fell to the middle of my back. I slowly reached for my brush and picked it up. I started breaking the mirror with my brush while crying.

I crawled back to my bedroom and into the closet hiding from the world and living in darkness.

“Isabella.”

Mom, I thought.

“Isabella! Isabella!” She was screaming at the top of her lungs. Mom was relieved when she found me in my closet but terrified because I was crying.

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“Mom, I need you to hold me and tell me everything’s going to be ok.” Mom slowly sank to my side and held me in her arms.

“Darling you don’t need me to tell you everything’s going to be ok.” It was silent for a moment, but finally I couldn’t take the silence anymore so I broke it.

“I’m going to die aren’t I Mom?” I heard trembled sobs.

“I’m scared Mom. I don’t want to die.” She took my face in her hands. “I don’t want you to go either.”

“Mom I don’t want to die at home, I want to go to the Alexa field.” Mom looked me in the eyes.

“Are you sure honey?”

“I’m positive, it’s the most peaceful place on earth.”

“Sleep in my arms, my Bella, and we’ll go tomorrow.” I closed my eyes and thought of flowers blooming in a midspring’s day.

CHAPTER THREE “Isabella, honey. Wake up.” I rubbed my eyes, waking myself up. My god, I had slept in my small crammed closet all night. I crawled out of the closet and stood up stretching while eyeing my room that looked like a stampede had gone through it.

I quickly slipped on my sundress, jean jacket, and my sandals. I charged down the stairs feeling a bit queasy.

“Ready to go Mom?” When she finally came into view her eyes were red and puffy. I ran toward her and threw my arms around her.

“Be happy mom.” She kissed my forehead and smiled at me.

“Let’s go my Bella.” I followed her out of the house embracing it every step of the way.

I slowly closed the door behind me knowing that it’d be the last time doing so.

I slid in the car and as we drove away I watched the house until I couldn’t see it anymore.

Goodbye, I thought to myself. On our way to the Alexa field I threw up five times, so that made the ride an additional forty minutes.

“You ok, honey?” I looked over at my mom.

“Yeah I’m good.”

“We’re almost there.” I don’t want to die yet. I know I said this a million times but I’m young and I’m innocent. Within five minutes we pulled into a long, rocky drive.

30

“You know the drill, Isabella.”

“Yeah I know.” I knew I’d have to hike for at least five minutes before I made it to the Alexa field. I crept out of the car slowly and put on my sunglasses. It may have been over thirty degrees out but I was still freezing.

When I finally came into view of the Alexa field I broke out into a run until I fell on all fours clutching my sides. I quickly lay on my back memorizing the looks of the field with ankle high grass and millions of flowers.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” My mother lay down beside me.

“Yeah, it is.” I sighed. My mother held my hand and hymned my favourite lullaby by Bach. When I opened my eyes, a picture was hovering over my face. It was a picture of my dad.

“Think of him, my Bella.”

“Mom.” “I’m tired now, but I want you to promise me something.” I choked on my tears.

“Of course anything.”

“Never let me go.”

“I promise. Now close your eyes, think of me, and think of all the things you love but just remember you’re my beautiful flower, you’re my Bella.” Tears flowed down her cheeks.

“I love you Mom.” I squeezed her hand and closed my eyes. Soon enough I was numb, warm, but most of all... free.

31

THE ANONYMOUS

Sir Edgar Bauer TEACHER: Linda Mann

SCHOOL:

Elementary Grades 7 and 8 Poem

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Teresa Kennedy UNIT: Waterloo UNIT PRESIDENT: Michael Devoy by

N ATA S H A H O F F M A N

Let me speak for the shy mute who cannot speak.

Whose wise mind is filled with beauty of the third eye.

He expresses his inspired beat upon a sheet of music.

He is unable to speak, To tell people of the things he’s seen, the beauty the melody brings And so, he plays the instrument, His makeshift violin, and lets his music guide his hand, And let the sad rhythm do the talking.

And it does, so well, That adding lyrics is redundant, For his message, right and true is spoken well beyond words...

He cannot speak, but his eyes tell a miserable story Look deep inside them, and you may cry, For this silent mute wants nothing more than to tell his message to the world.

But music speaks louder than words, So he plays his makeshift violin, And tells the world, guided and alive, In a language that catches their eye...

In a language the world will understand.

32

JUST SIXTEEN

St. Hilary TEACHER: Blair Tremblay SCHOOL:

Elementary Grades 7 and 8 Play

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Luize Dowling UNIT: Dufferin-Peel Elementary UNIT PRESIDENT: Berni Campbell by

K AY L E E N A N N E L A R O S A C A D A L I N

CHARACTERS: Maxwell a.k.a. Boss Perplessita Police Officer 1 Police Officer 2 Police Officer 3 Police Officer 4 Police Officer 5 Kristal Abby Johnny Jennifer

Council Member Q Council Member S Council Member C Council Member E Council Member F Council Member B Council Member N Council Member Y Doctor Agent

SCENE 1 (Curtains open. On stage are officers, Boss and Perplessita.)

Boss:

This isn’t over!

Perplessita:

Of course it isn’t! (Sigh) How disappointing...I was hoping to have a nice beautiful necklace to add to my collection, but for now I’ll leave empty handed. I hope you enjoyed playing this little game with me! (Giggle)

33

Boss:

Game!? Do you honestly think this is a game Perplessita? What you’re doing is a crime!

Perplessita:

Actually, I think of it more as a hobby... (Giggle) But don’t look so down Mr. Genius Cop, you kind of won, but you better get this clear...we WILL meet again!

Next time, it will be for the battle of the sacred jewel of South Africa!

(Poof! A cloud of smoke appears and Perplessita disappears offstage.)

Boss:

URRR!

Police Officer 1:

Hey, what’s wrong boss? She didn’t end up leaving with the necklace artefact, you won; so just be happy.

Boss:

But the necklace is still damaged and she did manage to escape. I haven’t had my victory until she’s put in handcuffs. Man, this thief Perplessita sure is something! Creating a trap for us that actually ends up being the decoy for another trap. Things like this only make my work harder.

Police Officer 2:

Well boss, it’s over so let’s head back to the station.

Don’t stress out! You are just sixteen.

Boss:

Shhh! You know that anything about my identity is kept secret to protect the police force. Not all the officers know who I am and that’s why I wear this mask.

Police Officer 1:

Speaking of masks, you look like the criminal with that on. But, then again Perplessita wears a mask too so...

Police Officers 3, 4, 5:

Hey you guys, what are you guys doing? We need to go file the report!

Boss:

Roger. I’ll be right there. The rest of you should go without me.

34

(All officers head offstage.)

Boss:

(Thinking aloud) Man, what a life. Every day I deal with criminals, police work, a normal school life, homework, friends...maybe I am a little too stressed out. I am only sixteen. Two identities are tough. It all had to start with that one murder case two years ago. I solved it in twelve hours with the correct deduction. Then the police force decided to recruit me secretly by keeping my identity secret. So when I work, I am no longer Maxwell Cunnington, but my codename Boss. Now I have to deal with this serial thief Perplessita...and a new report to file.

(Maxwell stares at the necklace then quickly makes his way off the stage.

Curtains close.)

SCENE 2 (School bell rings. Curtains open. Maxwell, Kristal, Jennifer, Johnny, and Abbey enter.)

Jennifer:

Exams are almost over you guys! I’m so happy, happy, happy, happy...

Abby:

You’re acting like a hyper six year old, Jennifer.

Be a little more mature.

Jennifer:

(Sarcastically) Sorry! I just can’t be as mature as little miss uptight!

Abby:

What did you say?!

Johnny:

Hey, hey! Guys calm down!

Kristal:

Yeah, I don’t think it’s good to get worked up for this, especially since we’re having our Trigonometry exam in four minutes.

35

Maxwell:

Guys, don’t worry about them. They’ve been friends since before they got potty-trained. They’re just letting all the steam out before the exams. But Kristal is still right about getting worked up.

Jennifer and Abby:

SORRY!

Johnny:

See, what a nice happy ending! All because of the works of our two geniuses Big Mac and Kristal!

Kristal:

What are you talking about? I’m no genius!

Abby:

What are you talking about? The two of you always get one hundred percent on every exam!

Maxwell:

So?

Johnny:

It’s not normal...or really nerdy...or it’s just super cool.

I prefer the third choice.

(School bell rings. Abby, Jennifer, and Johnny wave goodbye and head offstage.)

Kristal:

Uh...um...I gotta...

Maxwell:

Yeah me too...have a test to do...

(Kristal walks off stage) Maxwell:

She’s nice...

(Maxwell hurries off stage. Curtains close.)

SCENE 3 (Curtains open. All Council Members enter and take their seats.)

Council Member N:

I’m starting the records.

(All Council Members take a seat or shuffle papers.)

36

Council Member S:

Okay. Y please present your report on the last project, TERMINATION021.

Council Member Y:

Project success. Target, Lyonell Louis, terminated.

Location, New York City. Time length of project, fiftysix hours.

Council Member S:

Excellent, Y. Everything is going as planned. We will soon rid the world of all those troublesome, moneydraining figures...and then we will become all other’s superiors. All we need to do is complete the last termination project and then we can execute our plans freely.

Council Member E:

(In a nagging voice) Don’t get ahead of yourself G. We still have those two genius brats to deal with.

You know, that genius sixteen year old cop and that thief Perplessita.

(Council Member S grunts with annoyance.)

Council Member Q:

B...C...What is the update on Boss and Perplessita.

Tell us now. You both know time is running out.

Council Member F:

Of course they know that, Q. Now continue B.

Council Member B:

Our search for codename Boss has been difficult but we managed to locate his station. We also know he will appear at the museum at 22:00 tomorrow night to try to prevent Perplessita from stealing an artifact.

Council Member F:

Is this true?

Council Member C:

This information is affirmative. We have already set up some of our agents to initiate project TERMINATION016. If everything goes as planned, we should capture them tonight. But what I am not sure about is if we test our new “mechanisms” on them or just terminate them.

37

Council Member Y:

I think we should decide this after we capture them.

Council Member E:

I agree, now are there any other concerning topics?

(Everyone looks at each other silently.)

Council Member Q:

I believe that is all. Meeting adjourned.

(Everyone goes off stage except for Council member Q and N) Council Member Q:

I want you to destroy all the records of this meeting.

Council Member N:

Why?

Council Member Q:

I have my reasons...I would also like you to get the “mechanisms” ready for use.

Council Member N:

I thought we would decide that in the next meeting.

Council Member Q:

It is better if we test those weapons with our two genius rats tomorrow.

(Council Member Q does a small evil laugh. Both Q and N exit offstage.

Curtains close.)

SCENE 4 (Maxwell, Kristal, Jennifer, Abby and Johnny already on stage. Curtains open) Johnny:

Man, that was an awesome movie! Especially that car chase! I can’t wait for the sequel!

Jennifer:

You don’t know what’s interesting! “Goodbye” was much better. It had more feeling and expression. It showed the passion in love.

Abby:

Yeah! I totally loved “Goodbye!” My favourite part was how enemies become allies and fall in love.

38

Jennifer:

I loved that part! But I also liked the part when they ripped off their masks and said goodbye to their old lives! It was so beautiful!

Johnny:

Beautiful, love, and blah, blah, blah, car crashes totally own that cra...

Maxwell:

Hey, Johnny quit it! That’s just your opinion. So what if Jenny and Abby liked “Goodbye,” it’s just their opinion too!

Kristal:

That’s right. But Abby, “Goodbye” was kind of...

Johnny:

A chick-flick?

All except Johnny:

Johnny!

(Maxwell’s phone rings. He checks it then puts it back in his pocket.)

Maxwell:

(In a low voice) Do I really have to deal with a case now?

Abby:

What did you say Maxwell?

Maxwell:

Oh nothing. But, I gotta go!

(Kristal looks at her watch.)

Kristal:

Oh! I gotta go do...stuff...too!

(Maxwell and Kristal go offstage.)

Johnny:

See ya!

Abby:

Hey doesn’t it bother you?

Jennifer:

What do you mean?

Johnny:

You noticed it too, huh.

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Abby:

Yeah, it’s Maxwell and Kristy.

Jennifer:

So?

Johnny:

Big Mac may not be aware of this, but both Abby and I know he’s that super famous super genius cop Boss.

Jennifer:

Wow Really?! That’s so cool!

Abby:

He probably didn’t tell us because it was for our own safety. What’s bugging me is that lately Boss is dealing with that thief Perplesssita right?

Jennifer:

Okay, so can you please get to your point.

Johnny:

I think we know who Perplessita is.

Jennifer:

What!!! WHO IS IT? WE NEED TO CALL THE COPS!

(Abby whispers something in Jennifer’s ear.)

Jennifer:

And what led you to think its Krist..

Abby:

SHHH! Have you noticed she always leaves when or before Maxwell leaves for a case with Perplessita?

Johnny:

Well, we can discuss this later. Right now, I’m feelin’ a little tired.

(Abby, Johnny, and Jennifer go offstage.)

SCENE 5 (Curtains open. Boss and all the officers walk onstage.)

Boss:

If Perplessita is coming to steal this jewel tonight, we need to make our move after she makes hers.

Police Officer 3:

In other words we set a trap...

Police Officer 5:

...And stake out.

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Boss:

Yes, and the bait for the trap is this.

(Boss holds up a fake jewel.)

Police Officer 4:

I see, she’ll come to get the jewel and then we spring our trap!

Police Officer 2:

And knowing how careful Boss is, you probably have that thing wired with tracking equipment.

Boss:

Correct. But just in case I have another thing planned.

Police Officer 1:

Are you sure this is okay Boss? She most likely will figure out it’s a trap. We are dealing with the number one thief in North America here.

(Perplessita enters with real jewel.)

Perplessita:

Well said, officer! While you guys were chatting away I could have easily come earlier than expected and stole the real thing from its hiding place! As you can now see, it is a very possible situation. (Giggle)

Police Officer 5:

Why you...

Boss:

Calm down. That’s why I had my back up plan.

Perplessita:

You guys watch while I escape with the jewel! (Giggle)

(Perplessita dashes off stage away from the others. After a few seconds of silence she screams off stage.)

Police Officer 3:

What was that? Boss was this your...

Boss:

No. I’m going to investigate.

Police Officer 2:

Wait!

(Boss runs offstage. A loud crash sound comes from backstage. All the officers run offstage.)

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SCENE 6 (Boss, Doctor, Perplessita walk on stage. Agent is already on stage in a chair.)

Doctor:

He has minor conditions and he’ll be fine.

Boss:

See this is what you get for horsing around and messing with a criminal and cop.

Perplessita:

Yeah, you end up in a headlock and get slapped by the poor thief you senselessly scare! (Giggle)

Agent:

I was only completing the operation.

Doctor:

Well whatever you were doing, it caused you a bit of trouble...but, that’s none of my business. Just make sure you watch your neck.

Boss:

Doctor, when can the patient be discharged?

Doctor:

She can leave tonight. You’re a cop right? You seem young and somewhat inexperienced. How old are you?

Boss:

Yes I am a cop, but the rest is classified information.

But how could you tell I was...inexperienced?

Doctor:

Just my intuition. Visiting hours end at eight, so you have an hour.

(Doctor exits offstage.)

Perplessita:

Bye Doc! (Waves and pauses. Then turns to agent) Let’s deal with the matter of trying to kidnap me and Mr. Genius Cop now shall we?

Boss:

Yes. What were you doing at the museum that night?

It seemed like you were targeting Perplessita and I?

Agent:

I cannot say.

Boss:

Don’t mess with me! I can arrest and charge you for assault and attempting to kidnap us!

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Perplessita:

Yeah so start talking!

Agent:

Fine, I’ll tell you everything, as long as you give me protection. (Boss nods) You may not believe this but I work as a hit-man for an organization called OTO also known as Operation Takeover. There are eight heads of this organization and they are all political powers of North America. They meet together every once in a while.

I don’t know their names, but one in charge goes by the initial Q. He and the rest of the heads, or government council, are working together to try and control the world.

Perplessita:

Take over the world?! (Giggle)

Boss:

Continue.

Agent:

I’m telling you the truth. They are planning to do this by getting rid of any people they see as “obstacles” or “money drainers” and as their political power rises, they’ll change everything...and mold the world to how they like it. My mother was once part of that council, but the moment she tried to object to the plan, she was murdered. So now, I need to complete their TERMINATION projects in order to not get killed myself.

Boss:

And what are these TERMINATION projects, exactly?

Agent:

They are plans to kidnap and kill certain individuals the council sees as a “threat” to their plan. You two have somehow made the list of “threats.” They also test any of their new weapons on these Termination project targets.

Perplessita:

Interesting. This is going to be fun. What’s the plan, Mr. Genius Cop?

Boss:

I’m going to send in one of my guys to investigate them.

Maybe, I’ll probably get someone to bug their meeting room, so we can get some solid evidence.

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Perplessita:

Perplessita at your service! Why get one of your guys to eavesdrop when you can get one of North America’s most cunning criminals? (Giggle)

Boss:

I am not working with a criminal like you.

Plus, I never said anything about eavesdropping.

Perplessita:

Oh please. Like you didn’t have that plan in mind. I can just sneak in during one of their meetings and record it. Maybe you can even make your arrest after the meeting.

Agent:

To be honest, that is a pretty good plan. I was always against this organization’s plans and I only did this work because if I don’t I might get killed. But if you provide me with protection as promised I’ll also help with this plan. I can create any listening devices and bugs if you need me to.

Boss:

Fine, we’ll go with this plan.

Perplessita:

Wait, I have my conditions too!

Boss:

What?

Perplessita:

If the plan is a success, I want you to drop all my theft charges.

Boss:

I can’t do that! Who do you think I am?!

Perplessita:

Okay, okay. I’m not that bad (Giggle) So, I’ll return all the stolen items and I’ll stop stealing okay?

Boss:

Urr (with frustration)...By the way when is the next council meeting?

Agent:

Saturday night.

Boss:

Well, I guess we execute the plan then.

(Boss and Perplessita are already onstage.)

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SCENE 7 (Curtains open. Perplessita is already on stage) Perplessita:

(into headphones) Okay Mr. Genius Cop, I’m in. I’ll get the devices ready. Please stand by.

(Perplessita sets up a device.)

Perplessita:

What they’re coming in!

(Perplessita hides behind a table. Council Members enter and take their seats.)

Council Member Q:

Let the ninth meeting begin. N, please take notice of all that regards this meeting.

Council Member N:

Understood. May the meeting begin. B and C please give your reports.

Council Member B/C:

It seems like we haven’t received information from our agent yet.

Rest of Council:

What?

Council Member E:

What is the meaning of this? This will only delay our plans further months. C, you’re only causing us trouble! You too, B!

Council Member S:

Now what do we do? If they are captured the agent they will probably be able to access information on us.

Council Member B:

We can send another hit-man?

Council Member F:

It’s too late! If we send someone they’ll see it coming!

Council Member Q:

(whispering) ...Kill them...

Council Member Y:

What did you say Q?

Council Member Q:

KILL THEM! I WANT THEM DEAD!!! ALL OF THEM!!!

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(Perplessita comes out from behind table. Boss and police officers enter) Boss:

All of you put your hands up. You are all under arrest for attempted murder and kidnapping!

(Police officers handcuff Council.)

Government Council member Q: You guys really were a threat. But OTO will not end, we will mould the world to our liking!!!

MUA HA HA HA HA!!!

(Council Members and officers exit offstage) Perplessita:

Sheesh!

(Curtains close.)

SCENE 8 (Boss and Perplessita are already on stage. Curtains open) Boss:

Wow, that was exciting...sort of.

Perplessita:

It was fun, actually! (Giggle) But it won’t be fun if you don’t keep your end of the deal.

Boss:

I’ll keep it.

(Johnny, Abby, and Jennifer enter.)

Abby:

Hey Maxwell!

Boss:

How’d you know who I was?

Johnny:

Magic! Can you take off that mask? It looks ridiculous!

Boss:

Fine.

(Boss takes off mask.)

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Maxwell:

There, I took off the mask. Now my mortal enemy has seen my face.

Perplessita:

Don’t worry, I won’t tell a soul. (Giggle)

Jennifer:

Actually, Miss Perplessita is more of a friend.

Perplessita:

Oh really? Then who am I?

Abby:

You’re Krist...

(Kristal enters.)

Maxwell:

Kristal, what are you doing here?!

Johnny, Abby and Jennifer:

Kristal?!?

Kristal:

Oh, hello. I’m just paying a visit to my friend. How could you keep this secret life from me?

Maxwell:

I can explain.

Perplessita:

If you knew you would probably get hurt. (Turns to Maxwell) Mr. Genius Cop, take it easy, I suggest you quit this cop life just like I’m quitting my old thief life. It looks like you’re getting too stressed.

Maxwell:

Okay... But who are you really?

Perplessita:

I am a foe that you can call a friend.

(Perplessita exits offstage.)

Kristal:

Who is she?

(Silence.)

Maxwell:

She’s right. I need to quit my cop life. I am just sixteen.

THE END

47

THINGS CHANGE

St. Francis de Sales TEACHER: David Condon

SCHOOL:

Elementary Grades 7 and 8 Nonfiction

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Ilda DeLuca UNIT: Durham Elementary UNIT PRESIDENT: Dan Gryzwacz by

A L E X A N D R A G R AV E

I

miss the fun weekends I would spend sleeping over at my aunt’s cozy condominium. Her role a second mother to me, or rather the big sister I never had.

But things change.

My aunt now has two young children of her own to look after and a bigger home to live in.

I miss the icy cold, wintry days of December. Slipping into many layers of socks and a pair of heavy boots, preparing to dive into the snow with puffy jackets, woolly hats, mittens and scarves. For hours on end, building snow forts and creating snow angels with my big brother who taught me how to make the perfect snowball, the tips of our small fingertips and stubby toes begging for warmth again but refusing to go inside and ruin the fun.

But things change.

Now my brother and I see snow as just another chore, snow angels and snow forts replaced by shovelling the narrow sidewalk and the long, wide driveway.

I miss the hot summer evenings of June and July. Driving off to another house league soccer game with the coach, my Dad, who taught me mostly everything there is to know about the game. The golden trophies, blue ribbons, weighty medals and captain bands atop my dusty shelf to represent all the victories and

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runner-ups.

But things change.

Nowadays, I drive off out of town and out of the country to my rep soccer games with my number one fan, my Dad, there to support me now that he is no longer my coach, and to watch proudly from the sidelines at the little soccer player he created.

I miss the rainy, boring days that kept my brother and I cooped up in the house.

Taking off downstairs to the open basement each time to play a game of mini sticks and placing the tiny red hockey net against the smooth basement wall, getting the tiny hockey sticks for our tiny, chubby hands, the tiny red foam ball in the middle of the floor for face off, treating the game as if it were NHL official. I remember my brother always wanting to be the goalie, so I would shoot on him for hours until our cheeks turned rosy from effort and giggles.

But things change.

Both of us are too large and strong to be on our knees holding mini hockey sticks and playing another NHL game. I watch my brother play real ice hockey in a cold arena. Instead of me taking shots on him, the opposing team now blasts black, heavy pucks at him as he tends goal. Only this time, the game counts.

I miss the days when I had dance recitals instead of soccer tournaments.

My Mom, plastering my small face with her make-up in the upstairs washroom, asking me to “look up, look down, look up, look down” as she stroked my eyelashes gently with a brush of black mascara.

But things change.

I danced for eight years, then quit for soccer, now I apply my own mascara to my brown eyes, but still hear Mom’s voice echoing in my head with each stroke of the brush. No longer am I a ballerina, but the memories still dance away forever in my heart.

I miss the days when I thought things would never change, but traditions change, people change, everyday. When it’s all said and done, it’s only the memories you make that stay the same.

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UNTITLED

Loretto Abbey TEACHER: Mary Harper

SCHOOL:

Secondary Grades 9 and 10 Short Story

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Nelson Caetano UNIT: Toronto Secondary UNIT PRESIDENT: René Jansen in de Wal by

K AT I E C O M P E R

T

he sunlight pours in through the crack in our bunker. It is better than the previous day, when there was rain. I press my nose up to the crack, trying to get a whiff of the outside air. The fresh air stings my nostrils, but as it fills my lungs I can feel them stretch as far as they possibly can.

I sit back down on my thin mattress and lean against the dirt wall. I stare at the clock. The time is 8:17, the same as it’s been for a year and a half. As I stare, I remember what it means. 8:17: my birthday, August 17, 2020, the number of times my youngest sister had been to the doctor’s, seventeen times by the time she was eight, and, ironically, the time the volcano erupted.

Life forms, other than humans, have begun to emerge. The last time I went outside, the thick, hazy ash had just started to clear away and you could see the sun.

That was a month ago, when I needed to find some more bandages and cleaning alcohol.

Some houses were still perfectly intact, if they hadn’t been pulverized by the fire rocks that flew their way over to my hometown of Bancroft, Ontario.

The volcano erupted on my sixteenth birthday. I can still feel the ground shaking as I blew out the candles on my birthday cake. The entire town was there; of course they were, my dad was the mayor. The children began to cry as the shaking entered into its first hour. The entire population of Bancroft was lying

50

down, face down, on the ground of the community centre where they had flocked together to celebrate what was supposed to be the greatest day of my life.

When we could find one, we turned on a radio. The announcer was panicking, screaming into the microphone. All I could make out was something about a volcano erupting and the emphasis he put on everyone getting below ground.

That tiny amount of information was enough to set everyone off and have them pushing their way to the exits. Chaos erupted.

My family got back home just in time to see the first fireball fly over our heads.

My little sisters screamed as they saw the lit piece of rock crash into our neighbour’s car and engulf it in flames. My neighbours – the Duncans and the Felixes, and my parents had all built an underground bomb shelter a few years back, in case of emergencies. It’s the first place we ran to after my mom grabbed my youngest sister’s medicine.

There were thirteen of us to feed, thirteen of us who needed to rest, but only one of us who didn’t make it to the present day. My youngest sister, Demi, passed away from a heart attack. Only my mother, father, and Mr. Duncan could bury her; there were only three gas masks.

The clock I stare at now is a constant reminder that my sister could have lived if this whole thing hadn’t happened. I can feel my face starting to burn red with anger. I look away from the clock in order to settle myself down. Instead, I let my eyes flit about the room.

In one corner, the Duncans sleep, huddled together on one thick mattress. Julie and Alex, the mother and father, sleep at either end, as if to protect their two sons.

Leighton is the older of the two; he was home from university when the disaster struck. Rex is the younger one, but he’s one year older than me. The two could be mistaken for twins if you had met them for the first time. Both have thick, dark brown hair. Their eyes are a mesmerizing dark green. They’re also incredibly physically built, but with the dwindling supplies, it won’t last.

In the corner across from the Duncans are the Felixes. They usually sleep two to a mattress, but it appears someone is missing. I can see Camille, the mother, and Daniel, the father, sharing a mattress. Beside them, I see their daughter Terri sleeping alone. This must mean Finn has decided to go out to gather supplies.

Terri is quite beautiful. She has long hair, the colour some would call “strawberry blonde.” She’s taller than me and, before the eruption, had curves that anyone would kill for. But now, she can easily count her ribs. Her brother looks a lot like her. Finn has dark blonde hair and blue eyes; hers are light green. He is

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probably the healthiest looking of us all. I suspect he eats a little more than everyone else. After all, he is the one that brings us back whatever food he can find, and I wouldn’t blame him if he snuck a bit during his return.

The corner across from my family houses all of the food, medical, and sanitary supplies that we are able to salvage from abandoned houses and superstores. It’s a fair amount of supplies, but it’s nothing compared to what was in its place when we arrived to the safety of what is now home.

No, I think, this will never be home. This is just…protection.

I close my eyes and try to fall back asleep, but the opening and closing of the door prevents the total shut down of my body. I reopen my eyes and see Finn across from me, setting down some more supplies. He looks up to see me staring at him.

“Did I wake you?” He mouths the words. I shake my head. He goes back to putting the supplies away, but his mother has woken up. This starts a chain reaction as Camille wakes her husband, who then wakes Terri.

I feel something poke me in the back. I turn around to see my little sister, Ali, looking at me with her large brown eyes.

I smile at her to reassure her that everything is okay. She smiles back and lifts herself from under her sheet. She supports her back by leaning against the wall, like me. I have a feeling that she looks up to me, so I try to be as collected as possible.

When everyone’s awake and talking, my Dad punches a wall. Everyone hears his fist crack.

“Troy!” my Mom screams as she runs over to him.

“What was that for?” asks Daniel in a frightened tone.

Everyone stares at my dad, some frightened, some angry, expecting an answer.

A good one.

“I’m sick and tired of sitting around doing nothing about our situation. It aggravates me,” he says. I can see a few people nod along with him. I’m one of them. “We should be moving away from here to a refugee camp. Or somewhere where there’s more food.”

“We have enough food,” Daniel says.

“Not nearly enough,” replies my dad in a quieter tone. He must know that once the food runs out, we will too.

“What do you propose?” asks Julie.

“We can find a car, pack up, and leave. Go to the nearest city, there’s bound to be people, or even food, somewhere there.” My dad is now pacing, trying to figure out how this would work.

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“And where is there a car, Troy?” asks Leighton, crossing his arms.

“I found one a few miles away.” Finn speaks up. It’s odd hearing his voice, he rarely ever says anything.

“My family isn’t leaving,” says Alex, “Someone is bound to find us here.”

“I agree. My family is staying put,” Daniel chimes in.

“Fine,” my dad replies, “we’ll split up the supplies. Would you help fix the car?

It’s the least you could do.”

Alex and Daniel respond with a hesitant yes, and the three men leave, with directions from Finn, to find the car.

I stand up and walk to the door.

“Where are you going?” my mom asks.

“For a walk,” I reply.

“You shouldn’t do that, my dear. You could get hurt,” my mom says back. She gets up from where she’s sitting to come over to me. “Please go sit back down, darling.”

I gingerly nod and return back to my mattress. As I sit back down, Finn comes over to me. He reaches deep into his pocket and pulls something out. He stretches his hand containing the item towards me. When I see the carton, I think it’s cigarettes. I am just about to turn away when I realize that the idea of Finn handing me cigarettes is absurd, so I reach out and take the pack from his hand. I open it, and there, packed neatly inside, is a deck of red cards.

“Have some fun while I’m gone,” he says with a smile.

“With whom?” I ask plainly.

“Maybe Rex and Leighton want to play with you. And I know for a fact that Camille loves to play euchre,” Finn says, pointing to his mom.

“I still find it funny how you call your own mother by her first name,” I say, dumping the cards onto my lap. Finn doesn’t have an answer, he never does when I ask him questions about his family.

“Who wants to play?” I shout out into the room. A few heads lift up, but only Rex and Leighton volunteer.

“Play fair, Phoebe,” my mom tells me, “don’t cheat. These boys have offered to play with you.”

“I know, mom,” I say back. She can get really annoying sometimes. “What do you guys want to play?”

Rex and Leighton think for a moment. “Poker?” asks Leighton.

“What could we use for chips?” Rex asks, searching around the dirt room with his eyes. I look around, too. I can see my mom, Camille, and Terri sitting in the

53

middle of the room at a table, talking. Julie is counting the supplies, something she does daily. Ali is sitting right next to me, but denied my offer to play cards. She just sits there with her clip board, drawing. She’s quite good at that. Finn has left again, but I don’t know where to.

“Let’s not play poker,” I suggest.

“But I want to play!” whines Leighton.

“Too bad. They’re my cards. Finn gave them to me,” I say. Leighton just rolls his eyes. “Let’s play crazy eights,” I say. I shuffle and start to deal, no one objects.

We play for what I assume is a few hours. By the time we get bored, lunch is being served. The men still haven’t returned, neither has Finn.

“Shouldn’t we wait?” I ask.

“What for? The food will still be here when they get back. I won’t eat theirs and neither will you,” Camille says, taking a bite into her sandwich. I shrug. I suppose it’s their fault if they miss lunch.

After I finish eating, I go over to the pile of supplies. I had seen a book somewhere in the pile before, but now I can’t seem to find it.

“Camille, where is that book Finn had brought us a while back?” I ask.

“Here. I have it under my mattress,” she says, rubbing the part of the mattress that conceals the book.

“Can I read it?” I ask as I walk towards her.

“No!” she screams, “you can’t touch that book!”

I back away, frightened. It’s not the first time that she’s reacted this way.

I remember once, when I hadn’t eaten anything for a day, I asked her permission to take something small from the supplies. She started screaming and crying, much like she is right now. It took an hour of coaxing and smooth-talking from Finn to get her to calm down. The isolation must be getting to her brain; it can drive someone crazy to be locked up in a room for this amount of time. She refuses to go outside.

This time, though, she gets up and comes towards me. I keep backing up. I see Terri and Ali get up hastily from the chairs at the table and try to restrain Camille.

“What’s going on?” Finn yells as he enters the room. He runs over to Camille and stands between us. He is my safety wall when things get out of control.

“She wants to touch my book!” Camille sobs, hugging Finn. She puts her head on his shoulder and starts wailing. Finn smoothes her hair and begins to work whatever charm he has on his mother. Terri and Ali come over to me and bring me back to my mattress.

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“Can I have the book?” I whisper to Terri, who shakes her head. “Why not?”

I ask.

“It’s very special to her. When Finn brought it here, it was meant only for her,” Terri explains.

“What’s in it?” I ask. I figure it must be something from the remains of their house that Finn managed to rescue from the rubble.

“It’s her secret journal, where she can write whatever she pleases,” Terri whispers to me.

Then, there is complete silence. Finn has managed to calm his mom down, and I have stopped talking to Terri. Julie is the one to break the silence.

“I wonder what’s keeping the boys. It’s almost dinner,” she says. I can hear the worry in her voice, the worry I used to hear from my mom when my dad would be late coming home from the office.

Just as dinner is being served, the men walk in. They take off their work gloves and sit down to eat with us.

“How was your day?” Rex asks, with a mouth full of dried peaches.

“Just fine. Everything is fine,” Daniel replies.

“I can’t wait to get out of here,” my dad says.

That statement put an end to the dinner conversation and we all sat in silence, except for the noise made by the munching of our food. When my mom was finished, she got up from the table.

“I’m going for a walk. Julie, would you like to join me?” my mother announced.

“Certainly,” responded Julie, “I need to clear my head.”

I was confused by my mother’s sudden decision, but no one else seemed to care.

They had all settled down to an evening activity. I let this confusion slip my mind, it was nothing to fuss over. I decided to play solitaire with my new cards. I’d finished playing a few rounds when there was a knock at the door.

This is strange, I thought, no one ever knocks.

Finn approaches the door and opens it. He’s speaking to someone in a hushed tone. Suddenly, he stops.

“Phoebe,” he calls my name, “you have a visitor.”

“What?” I ask, “How on earth could I have a visitor? No one else is alive.” I get up and walk to the door. When I get there, I see my mom standing in front of me.

“Well, she’s not a visitor. She’s been here all day long,” I say.

My mom and Finn exchange a look.

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“I told you,” says Finn.

“Told her what?” I ask.

“Honey, come with me. We need to talk,” my mom says, holding out her hand for me to take. And I do. She pulls me out of the room and walks with me for awhile until we get to a bench, surrounded by burned trees and pits of mud.

“Phoebe, where do you think you are?” my mom asks me, sitting me down on the bench.

“In Bancroft, mom. You know that. Look around. You know what the volcano did,” I say.

“That’s what I was afraid you’d say,” she replied, sitting herself down now.

“What do you mean?” I ask, as she takes my hand in hers.

My mom takes a deep breath and begins to explain.

“A year and a half ago, you were diagnosed with schizophrenia. It’s an illness, dear. It makes it difficult for people who have this to tell the difference between real and unreal experiences, or to have normal emotional responses. They are delusional, or see things that aren’t there. Those are called hallucinations. You aren’t in Bancroft, dear. You’re at the new Toronto Mental Institution. There was no volcano. What you heard was either a radio play, or some other patient. Finn, Ali, and Terri aren’t your neighbours, they’re your group’s nurses. Ali is your personal nurse. Camille, Daniel, Rex and Leighton are other patients. What you see now is not actually real, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

As she finishes, I look around. I see the trees starting to turn green, the pits filling in and starting to grow grass, and the sky turning a light blue.

“What about Julie and Alex? What about Dad too?” I ask in a quiet voice.

“Julie and Alex don’t exist. As for your father, he is back in Bancroft,” she explains.

“What about that conversation I had with them this morning?” I ask again.

She shakes her head.

“When did I come here?”

“August 17th, 2036. Your sixteenth birthday.”

I look all around me. My world is changing its formation right in front of me.

Tears spring to my eyes.

56

A SIMPLE WEB

Holy Trinity TEACHER: Rita Weiler

SCHOOL:

Secondary Grades 9 and 10 Poem

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Andrew Stancek UNIT: Brant Haldimand Norfolk UNIT PRESIDENT: Len Mcdonald by

C L A R E E S F R A N C E S S WA R T

It dawned on me, that I was doomed, doomed to spend, an eternity devoted, to him.

My stupid love, my stupid boyfriend. It’s not bad, really he’s actually a decent guy.

If you put behind the courteous put-downs, the ignoring me in public areas and disregarding to tell anyone we’re together. Really just ignore all that, and you have the perfect guy for me. Smart, that he got from his dad no doubt, a lawyer to boot, with a PHD and license to guard you in federal law at disposal. His

57

addiction-obsessed Mother, who barely recognizes her own hands when she sees them in front of her. He has her eyes, and her colour of hair, but the ruggedness of his father’s face, not a gentle baby skin anymore.

It was more of frost bitten flesh in the coldest of winter days that would feel good against my own soft baby skin. Not yet grown out of its own tender shell.

But does he see me? The girl who saved him when he fell from grace, and by grace, I mean the tree, left in his front yard. They don’t trim their grass, with broken bikes, rotting garbage and over-grown overly-large tree that, that begged to be climbed whenever he came home from school. Just staring at a small boy who didn’t know any better, thought he was super-man, and was lucky I chose to walk home. He looked up at me, and smiled, fragile and cute, wrinkling his nose ever so slightly to win my heart as I reached for my cell-phone and screamed into it for an ambulance. He didn’t hesitate to say I was like his angel that came to his rescue, a lie, but it was good enough to make me blind to what came next. Riding

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in the ambulance came the warmth of skin against my hand, was enough to make my face heat with the unwanted irritation of a flashing warning symbol on my virgin forehead. I glanced away, awkward, I didn’t want to admit, I was in love.

My parents, Greek, warning: find another, a nice Greek boy.

Upholding my valued traditions was not easy.

My eyes withheld the deception of my dedication to him, But words can put truth aside.

Now, I knew that; Greek traditions were often broken, So why can’t I obey?

So why couldn’t I leave him? Maybe it was something about deception that sparked the romance.

Maybe I just wanted to believe he would always be there, believe that maybe I could have a boyfriend to count on. I’d never had one. I waited in the hospital, waited for some nurse or doctor with a tag to tell me my boyfriend was okay. Boyfriend?

Where did that come from?! Some deep undeserved need to claim a boy who doesn’t possibly belong to a girl with no make-up, no pretty frilly skirt, just straight pants and a t-shirt?

Perhaps I knew I didn’t deserve, didn’t want to become his mistake.

A cruel unjust punishment to a boy who fractured his leg while trying to become a monkey or koala.

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And from the psychic abilities of a nurse, who kindly approached me, told me he was going to be fine, and they would release him in a few weeks. They already had medical records of Michael. Michael?

His name? I got his name without asking? Without his permission?

It felt so wrong, but why did I somehow feel accomplished? Like his name belonged to me? Like I wanted to know it that it was my mission to retrieve such a fact.

“Michael…” I breathed. The nurse took it as a sign of maybe relief.

The following weeks that came and went Resulted in my phone singing.

When I picked it up, it was his voice, I never quite forgot his humbled tone.

We agreed to meet At “Alligator pub, 118 Rational St.” I knew the area, because I had avoided it for years. Now that I had a mysterious back bone forming in the presence of my spine.

I could maybe? Pick up my pace along rushing signs and dark alley ways, and smack into Michael’s body the three weeks after we made the plans. His face glowed or maybe it was the sun that made him look like an

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angel chiselled structure young, but matured. The burning intensity of his eyes went into my own, mysterious ruptured his essence immediately.

We drank and shared our stories of family and messed up events that took place at young ages that made us who we were today. Perhaps his a bit more violent and unwelcomed at the family dining table, but it was enough to win over.

Questions like; “Where did you grow up?” or “When did you realize that you couldn’t stand your family?” bound us.

He asked me over that day that we had coffee my immediate curiosity took forth and ventured to trouble. He looked into my eyes, held my face so vividly close to his breath, dealing me in, and since then held me in that kiss. Michael seemed proud to break my shell and crack me open to reveal the unwritten me. Our conversation ventured forth after that perhaps to turn down the heat on our law-breaking scheme of robbery. I’d tasted my first breath of love. And as all females I loved it. Not that I really wanted to keep going shame and misfortune would

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soon take place in the hearth of my stomach filling with butterflies at the ever real thoughts of Michael and me? No, that wasn’t me, I couldn’t be that girl, THAT girl was not Alessia.

“Have you ever wondered what it would be like to fly?” came the sweet August rain of voice that showered against the drums of my waiting ears. I pondered the question, no doubt that Michael Mister Imagination himself would know what it meant to fly higher than life.

I found myself in a rut, birds knew How to soar above open skies.

“Yes,” was the answer that pasted my lips.

Was it the right one though?

Did I really want to soar, away from everything?

Cities, countries, Brothers, sisters, my own parents?

“Yes,” I repeated, so sure of myself, “of course to escape from everything I hate.”

His smile came radiant. With a touch of hands, he led me from the pub.

When the day came that it was leave Michael or allow access to my house; my life, the time was there that I had to make a decision.

Not easily made, but I made it while making love to Michael,

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for the first time; two months before the date he was to meet my parents.

I wasn’t ready for it either, but I never quite got the perfect and prime example.

The week before Michael could meet my parents, my ‘timing’ was off, and the test result was a definite A+. My life was so far bad enough and when I told Michael the news of his new baby, suddenly his wanting to meet my parents turned into not wanting to deal with me in public. Leaving me empty handed and nowhere else to go. so when the web of lies, of this “brand-new” Alessia, was choking me ever so slightly, that caused the real inner Alessia to panic and rage.

This was the time to tell my parents what Alessia had been up to the past four months that had turned her from perfect daughter to perfect monster. Perhaps life wasn’t always fair, perhaps I should have taken the bus home, and never fallen from grace much less

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into love. But love for me, was different from love for him.

I scarcely remember, though what I do remember was lost in the series of events that followed me for a few days. I walked in and looked at my parents, sullen look on my face, entering the close void to falling tears that so evidently seemed like eternity. An eternity that they were not patient for, as my father was the first to speak. “My little violet flower;” a nickname I’d gladly burn and didn’t deserve at this moment, he continued “What is wrong?” My answer came shaky, unfavoured and cold. As I told them the dreaded tale of a disobedient girl that was in trouble and hadn’t a way to turn, except to ask her ever loving parents for help. Especially my mother whose love I was sure to never obtain so graciously. When the tale was finished, over and done with, the web of lies destroyed and burned from the start to finish. I let out a shaky gasp between my tears between my apologies, my father’s now tomato red face filled with liquid hot rage that not even speaking had burned a hole through my heart, a daughter-father bond was broken in that instant as words flew from the spitting mouth of dear-tome daddy. Towards now dead-to-him daughter. My stuff was to be packed, and

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they- by "they" I mean mommy-dearest would find Alessia, the girl who died, a place to live on her own, and finish school, before her belly grew.

Tales of woe have never sounded so sad deranged unfair but Alessia was the girl who fell in love with Michael dear.

I, Alessia Angleford, of Greek heritage, wasn’t innocent anymore.

And my child; my beautiful baby boy, with mommy dearest’s eyes, and dear-to-no one’s daddy’s ruggedness, even baby’s skin was rough, Michael was paying every month. One question still remained; why had Alessia Angleford; Perfect obedient child strayed off marked paths, and one-way roads? When did the self righteous daughter become her own parents, own boyfriend, own personal self righteous monster?

Tried more than once to go back, once more find the turnoff point that resulted in a one bedroom apartment, baby crying, and dead-end job. Unfortunately Alessia never quite found freedom.

This is a portion of Clarees Swart’s poem A Simple Web.

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I T H A P P E N E D TO M E

F.J. Brennan TEACHER: Karen Varga SCHOOL:

Secondary Grades 9 and 10 Play

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Deirdre Palamides UNIT: Windsor-Essex Secondary UNIT PRESIDENT: Brian Hogan by

HARLEY GILLIS

(A simple living room set with a couch, loveseat, and coffee table. On the coffee table are a vase and some magazines. There is a laundry basket on the loveseat and a suitcase by the couch. Isabella sits alone on the couch. Madelyn enters.)

Madelyn:

Mrs. Ryans called.

Isabella:

What’s up?

Madelyn:

She wants to know if you’d be willing to baby-sit on Saturday night.

Isabella:

Sure.

Madelyn:

I’ll tell her when she calls.

Isabella:

Okay.

Madelyn:

(Looking at the suitcase) Why’s your suitcase out here?

(Phone rings) I’ll be back, just one minute. (Exit)

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Isabella:

How am I going to tell her? What’s gonna happen? I remember when this happened to my older sister Tess.

Everyone, including my father, was in the kitchen eating breakfast like usual. Everything was perfectly normal until Tess just blurted it out at the table. She started crying and Mom just looked at her. Then Mom got up and grabbed her. She pulled her toward the back door and said, “Get out.” Then when Tess tried to protest she just opened the door and pushed Tess through and told her to go.

Now it happened to me. How do I tell her without being kicked out too? I don’t want her to be mad.

Madelyn:

Okay so I told Mrs. Ryans you were willing to help. She’s so grateful. She and Mr. Ryans are going to see their niece in the play at your high school.

Isabella:

Who’s her niece?

Madelyn:

Natalie Ryans.

Isabella:

I don’t know her.

Madelyn:

She’s a freshman.

Isabella:

Yeah, I don’t know too many of them.

Madelyn:

(Remembering) What’s your suitcase doing out here?

(Knock at door) Madelyn:

(aggravated) I’ll get that.

Isabella:

Okay.

(Madelyn exits)

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Madelyn:

I should have listened to David. I should have dealt with it. He was willing to pay too. But, noooo, I have to be the good girl and tell my mother and see how she handles it.

I am such an idiot! Why, did I honestly think that there’s a possibility she’ll understand? I know she won’t! Now I have to sit around waiting for her to kick me out too.

I am gonna end up like Tess, completely off the map.

Nobody in this entire area has heard from her since that day.

(Madelyn enters with David) Madelyn:

I’ll leave you two be.

Isabella:

Thanks mom.

(Madelyn exits) Isabella:

So what’s up, David?

David:

Have you told her yet?

Isabella:

No, I was about to but you came.

David:

Oh, I knew I should have waited another ten or twenty minutes.

Isabella:

David, you should go.

David:

Isabella you still have a chance to deal with it.

Isabella:

David, you know I can’t.

David:

Come on, nobody will know. This is your best option.

Isabella:

No, it’s not. I’ll deal with it how I like, not how you see fit.

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David:

Isabella

Isabella:

No, David. No. Can you just go?

David:

Bye.

Isabella:

Bye.

(David exits) Isabella:

I really should listen to him.

(Madelyn enters) Madelyn:

Where’s David?

Isabella:

He went home.

Madelyn:

That was fast.

Isabella:

He just wanted to get the English assignment.

Madelyn:

He missed school again?

Isabella:

Yeah, his sister wasn’t feeling well.

Madelyn:

That child is always sick.

Isabella:

Yeah.

Madelyn:

How’s David?

Isabella:

He’s good.

Madelyn:

His parents too?

Isabella:

His parents too. Actually, they wished you a “Happy Easter.”

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Madelyn:

Oh, wish them a “Happy Easter” too when you see them next.

Isabella:

I already told David to.

Madelyn:

Good girl.

Isabella:

I have a meeting after school on Thursday.

Madelyn:

For what?

Isabella:

Prom committee.

Madelyn:

So soon?

Isabella:

It’s just me and Josie Donalds.

Madelyn:

Josie Donalds, the school president?

Isabella:

Yeah, we have to meet to figure out some details.

Then in May we’ll meet with the rest of the committee.

Madelyn:

Why, you?

Isabella:

I’m head of the committee.

Madelyn:

Since when?

Isabella:

Three weeks ago.

Madelyn:

Why didn’t you tell me?

Isabella:

I thought I did.

Madelyn:

No you didn’t

Isabella:

Sorry.

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(Phone rings) Madelyn:

That phone hasn’t stopped ringing all day. (Sigh)

(Madelyn exits) Isabella:

Maybe, I won’t have to tell her. Maybe, I can put it off ‘til tomorrow, or Monday or later. I should listen to David.

Then I won’t have to tell her. She’ll never know and we can go on living our happy normal life. I wish Dad was still around. He’d know what to do. He was the one who nearly convinced Mom to let Tess come home but they couldn’t find her. Daddy I miss you. I wish that you didn’t have to die. (Sniffles) Why’d the cancer have to take you?

(Erik enters) Erik:

Isabella, have you seen my football jersey?

Isabella:

No.

Erik:

What’s wrong, little sis?

Isabella:

Oh Erik, I made a mistake.

Erik:

It’s alright, you can tell me.

Isabella:

I’m such an idiot and I have to tell mom.

Erik:

(hugs her) What did you do?

Isabella:

David and I… you know… and now I’m-

Erik:

I’m going to kill him. I am going to kill him.

Isabella:

No Erik, don’t! You have to stay here with me.

I can’t tell Mom alone.

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Erik:

Isabella, you were supposed to be the good one.

Isabella:

The good one? I’m sorry.

Erik:

Isabella, it’s not your fault.

Isabella:

Tell that to Mom.

Erik:

She doesn’t know yet?

Isabella:

No. Erik, don’t let her do what she did to Tess, to me.

Erik:

I could never.

Isabella:

Could you stay with me?

Erik:

Yeah, for you and only you I’ll miss football practice.

Isabella:

Thanks.

(Madelyn enters) Madelyn:

I forgot to ask you: what is your suitcase doing out?

Isabella:

Mom, sit down.

Madelyn:

Why?

Erik:

Mom, just do it. (Madelyn sits)

Isabella:

I… I made a really big mistake. About two months ago David and I… Now I’m pregnant. Oh mom, don’t be mad.

Please mommy I’m scared. Please don’t kick me out like Tess. I didn’t mean to and I don’t want to go. I can’t go.

What will I do? Mommy, please.

(Long pause)

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Erik:

Mom.

Madelyn:

Come here Isabella.

(Isabella sits on the couch between her mother and brother.)

Madelyn:

Listen to me. Now Isabella, I want you to know one thing before we even start to talk about you. I didn’t kick Tess out. At least I didn’t mean to. I wanted her to go walk around, visit a friend, make it feel like I’d kicked her out.

Like my mom did to me when I got pregnant with her.

But, she didn’t go to a friend’s house and she didn’t just walk around the neighbourhood. Your father and I walked around for hours searching for her. We looked everywhere in this town. Heck, I’m still looking today. I didn’t mean for Tess to disappear. You understand?

Isabella:

Yes.

Madelyn:

Now, back to you. So you’re…

Isabella:

Yeah.

Madelyn:

Why did you girls have to go take after me?

Isabella:

After you?

Madelyn:

Come on. You know I had your sister when I was your age. Then following me Tess got pregnant at seventeen too. Now here we are and you’re pregnant.

Isabella:

I’m sorry.

Madelyn:

The mistake has been made, there’s nothing we can do about it. So don’t be sorry, there’s no use.

Isabella:

Okay.

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Madelyn:

Now all that said, you do realize what this means?

Isabella:

Yes.

Madelyn:

This means that in seven months time you’ll have a baby.

You’ll have to care for that baby too. Just because I’m here doesn’t mean I get to watch it while you have a life. You’ll have to get a job too. I’m not paying for a babysitter. I’ll pay for you two to live here but you’ll have to pay for extras like babysitters and toys plus stuff like your crib, change table, and other furniture.

Isabella:

Okay.

Madelyn:

Okay. (Pause) So it was David who did this to you?

Isabella:

He helped, it wasn’t like it was just him.

Madelyn:

Well he and I need to have a talk.

Isabella:

Mom.

Madelyn:

Look darling, I know how it is so let me handle this.

I don’t care if he wants nothing to do with you or the baby, he’s going to realise what he’s done and what he’s going to do. I’m not gonna force him to be involved and marry you, but he is the father so therefore he has to do something. Even if it’s just visiting once a month, he will be there. I know what it’s like without a father and my grandchild will not go through that.

Isabella:

Mom, you can’t force him to visit if he doesn’t want to.

Erik:

Not alone. I can help.

Isabella:

Erik, Mom, don’t. Just talk to him at most. Express your concerns but don’t force him. Then the three of us won’t enjoy it.

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Erik:

Fine.

Madelyn:

But he needs to be involved.

Isabella:

Mom, I can manage without him.

Erik:

We can help.

Isabella:

Thanks Erik.

Madelyn:

You still need to get David over here. With his parents.

This is still a matter that must be dealt with.

Isabella:

Dealt with?

Madelyn:

Look Isabella, do you honestly think that at seventeen you can do this?

Isabella:

You did.

Madelyn:

I had your father.

Isabella:

And I have you and Erik.

Madelyn:

Do you honestly think that you’re gonna live here forever?

Isabella:

Till I get on my feet.

Madelyn:

And when will that be? When you’re thirty and the kid’s seventeen himself?

Isabella:

I don’t know Mom. I just know that it worked out for you and it’ll work out for me too.

(Knock at door) Erik:

I’ve got it. (Exits)

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(Erik re-enters with David) David:

Sorry, I forgot to give you back your Anthro textbook.

Isabella:

I forgot you had it.

Madelyn:

Yes, you had other things on your mind.

David:

You told her?

Erik:

Yes, she told us.

Madelyn:

And we need to talk.

David:

(Nervously) Okay.

Madelyn:

This is as much your mistake to deal with too.

David:

Okay.

Madelyn:

Meaning that my daughter will not be the only one receiving the duty of raising a child.

Isabella:

Mom.

Madelyn:

No, he has to realise what he’s done.

David:

Look Mrs. Posa, if Isabella decides that she wants to keep the baby I’ll fully support her, but if she hasn’t made any decisions yet how am I gonna know what I have to do?

Madelyn:

Decisions? What decisions? I’m sorry but in a Catholic house there is no choice.

David:

I meant to suggest the possibility of putting it up for adoption

Madelyn:

Still.

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Isabella:

It’s true though, David. I don’t exactly have any other options.

Erik:

After all, a baby is meant to stay with its mother.

David:

Just give me time.

Madelyn:

You have seven months.

David:

Just let me figure it out. (Exits)

Madelyn:

Where are you going?

Isabella:

See I told you.

Madelyn:

He needed to know how we felt.

Isabella:

You could have talked to him with less judgement and pressure.

Erik:

How?

Isabella:

I don’t know. (Exits)

(Isabella re-enters) Isabella:

Thanks, you scared him away.

Erik:

Maybe it’s for the best.

Isabella:

Yeah, it’s better I raise this baby alone.

Erik:

Not alone. Never alone. You’ll always have me.

Madelyn:

And you’ll have me too.

Isabella:

Thanks.

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D E A R D AV I D

St. Theresa TEACHER: Michelle Dorey Forestell SCHOOL:

Secondary Grades 9 and 10 Nonfiction

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Michelle Dorey Forestell UNIT: Algonquin-Lakeshore UNIT PRESIDENT: Tom Doyle by

EMMA CRAIG

Dear David, Hello little brother! I’m very happy that you found this letter in the secret compartment of the envelope I sent you! I know for certain that many soldiers have had their letters censored by the government and what I have to tell you is very important. I was greatly shocked by the last letter you sent me about getting ready to head over here in a couple months. I know that I was very excited to come over three years ago, saying that it would be an adventure and a short war (by the way how have those last three Christmases been without me there?) but now that I have seen the horrors, I know the truth. The trenches are for no man in this world or the next.

After the training was completed, I was excited to go over to fight in the war. I had six close friends that I made while I was training (three of which are now dead) and we were excited to fight, side by side. When we reached the muddy slope of land, we were given a shovel and told to dig. We made the hole, two meters perfectly squared and then connected them to our comrades beside us. Afterwards, we put the barb wire in front of the trench and sat. If I dared to lift my head out of the hole, I could see that the trenches went on for miles in this muddy land we were in. And on the other side was the enemy, looking over at us from their own trenches. The bullets would fly a couple hours later from the barrels of thousands

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of guns. The sound was deafening, like the constant battering of a thunderstorm and a deadly one at that. We were cramped inside those trenches, side by side. It smelt very badly since most of us chose to relieve ourselves in our pants rather than in the make-shift latrines. The only gift I was given was a tot of rum every day that only made my homesickness for rum at the bars back home greater.

Most days it rained. It rained and rained and rained without stop. If you remember those days camping in the yard when it rained during the night, well then imagine the rain with no shelter and you’re living in a bloody (literally), muddy ditch! In no time at all the trenches were filled with water. This caused trouble since the war funding was very bad and our boots had soles like cardboard, causing trench foot. Trench foot causes a man’s foot to swell up into a balloon and is painful. My one friend Barrett, a very big man from Vancouver, got a bad case of trench foot and it swelled up so much that his foot could hardly fit in his boots. This is when the real trouble starts to seep in: gangrene. One day as we were fighting, Barret’s leg was scratched by a stray piece of barbed wire. He thought nothing of it and one of my friends, Isaac joked that it was so small that he must have been bitten by a rat (we would know more about the horrors of these creatures later.) But a few days later that cut had become infected and spread. When our lieutenant, Everett Shirley, caught sight of it, he was horrified. He explained to us that it was gangrene, an infection that was caused by lack of circulation that was fatal if it got to the heart. Barret’s leg, he explained, would have to come off. Everett instructed Barret to sit down as the medic arrived. Barrett’s face was white as a sheet when the medic pulled out a rather large sharp knife along with the disinfectant. The rest of my five friends turned away as the knife sunk in and Barret let out a cry of anguish. Never before had I heard a man scream so loudly or cry so hard. He was carried away to receive further treatment, the medic carrying the part of the leg from the knee down. I never saw Barrett again.

My one friend Wesley, a rather small man with fast hands from Saskatoon, made note of the horrors of this condition and took it into his own hands to get us some good boots. One night he left to go to the bathroom and returned with four pairs of boots and one pair fitted on his own feet. We took the boots happily, and I curiously asked where he found them. He nodded his head over to an open part of the trench. That very day, five English chaps had been killed. Their bodies still lay there in the knee deep water, a walkway made out of skin and bones. I shuddered and slipped the boots on, feeling guilty yet thankful for Wesley’s fast hands.

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A year in, we were fighting and heard a loud bang come from the skies. I looked up and saw the onslaught of shrapnel falling towards us. With a quick shout to the boys, I ducked down and hid under one of the dead bodies. I was hit by the strong whiff of death and decomposition. I felt a couple maggots rain down on me, but I ignored them. They weren’t the worst of our worries. Over the gunfire, I heard the zing of the shrapnel falling down on us again, the dead bodies our only shields along with the steel helmets. I heard one of us cry out but I dared not look up till the dangerous rain ceased. Once I was brave enough I poked my head out from under the corpse. I counted three men standing and one face-first in the mud. I crept over and lifted the body to reveal the face. It was Zachary from Manitoba, the youngest of us, his face showing true terror and shrapnel dug into different parts of his body. He was always known as the “slow one” by Isaac. The only rite of burial we could give him was to lie him down among the other dead bodies in the walkway and continue fighting.

One day as we were fighting I noticed an ominous cloud coming toward us.

Before I could speak, one of my friends, Raymond, an older gentleman from Regina, thrust a piece of cloth in front my face. I could smell the urine on it so I pushed it away, thinking it was some kind of joke. But Raymond quickly put it back in my face and explained that the cloud was mustard gas and that the urine keeps it from getting into your lungs. Without another thought I put it over my face.

Raymond tried to hand over another rag to the Englishman beside me, but he dismissed him rather impolitely. We sat silently in our trench waiting for the cloud to pass and I heard a gasp as the Englishman fell to the ground. Little brother, once mustard gas gets into your lungs it crystallizes and kills you. Once it seemed safe, I pulled the soiled rag away from my face and turned to look at the Englishman who now laid on the ground mid-choke. After that there was always a barrel of peesoaked rags ready to use when the mustard gas came.

I never slept well at night in the trenches! There was the idea of a sneak attack by the enemy and then the constant fear of the dreaded rats. Laugh all you will David, but the rats are the worst. They carry lice which have already caused me to lose most of my hair and diseases that would make Barrett’s gangrene seem like nothing. The worst of all the facts, these rats eat people dead or alive. It was the early morning after my other friend Victor’s unfortunate death from enemy fire. He was a man from the Toronto area like us who, besides Isaac, always could make me laugh. It was almost two years into the war and I was awoken to a strange pinching at my leg. The strange pinching grew into nibbling and then soon biting. A very

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nasty nip was delivered to my leg and I reacted, kicking my leg up into the air along with a rather large rat. Once it hit the ground it scurried off down a little ways, tripping over Isaac’s outstretched foot and waking him up in the process. Isaac, a man of humour from New Brunswick, looked at me quizzically and then followed the rat down the trench. I followed Isaac and found him standing over something.

It was Victor’s body. A dozen rats were swarmed on it as they nibbled at every part of him. His eye sockets were dark pits and one of his ears was bitten clear off. Isaac very slowly picked up a gun and leaned up against the trench. He lifted it over his head, butt in the air, and then began slamming it down on the rats. They scattered but he managed to clog a few. Once they were all gone, he grabbed the three rats he had managed to kill by the tail and held them up proudly to me. Some more protein for us soldiers in the trenches.

It was almost three years into the war and the generals were getting more desperate to take over the trenches. It was a stalemate game of chess that could not be won, but these generals were stubborn. Their new idea was to go “over the top” of the trench and charge the other side. Seem like a good idea, little brother? Well actually it’s a terrible idea, what with the barbed wire, hidden mines, and the fact that there is the enemy waiting on the other side to shoot you to bits. Then again, the generals never had to go over. Anyways, by that time the only people left in our small group of friends were Wesley the Boot Stealer, Raymond the Gasman, Isaac the Rat Hunter and I. Only a week before this letter was written, Isaac and I were chosen to go “over the top.” Very few men ever come back and we both knew this.

We said our good byes to Wesley and Raymond and lined up ready to go. With an order from one of the generals we all went over the top. Using pliers, we cut through the barbed wire and ran to the other side. There was the rat-a-tat-tat as machine gun bullets hit the soldiers in front of us and they fell into the mud. There was the boom of our mines going off and blowing up the very people who had put them out into smithereens. All around Isaac and I was the constant scream of comrades as they fell.

We finally reached no man’s land and we collapsed onto the ground. Isaac turned to look at me and laughed in the strange, stress-relieving way he does. He stood up, but as soon as he did there was another rat-a-tat-tat and he was back down. His dead eyes stared at me from their sockets. I could see other people running back now so I decided to do so too. I got up and ran as quickly as my legs could carry me to our trenches. My heart was pounding, my legs burning, my breath growing sharp and ragged. My mistake was when I stepped down and heard

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a rather large boom from underneath me. I smashed face first into the mud, only a couple feet from my destination. The welcoming arms of my comrades dragged me back into the trench.

They laid me down in a dry spot and called for the medic. I gathered enough strength and sat up a little only to feel shots of pain coming from my right knee. I looked down at my leg and gave out a terrified yell. I had stepped on a land mine and now all that remained of my right leg was from the knee up. The medic arrived and began to wrap up the wound and then ordered some men to carry me back to the tent hospitals. Wesley and Raymond literally ran forward and swept me off my feet, er, foot. I was carried away from the horrors of the trenches and into a medic tent.

I’ve been sitting here for about a week now. I was sitting here when I received your letter telling me how you wanted to come over here and join me. The medics say they will be sending me home soon since I obviously cannot fight with only one leg. I never thought I’d be so grateful to lose a leg! I can feel the phantom pains where my right foot should be. I guess I’m lucky to be alive.

Now that you have heard my story, what do you think? Do you still want to be a soldier, David? Do you want to watch your friends die before you? Do you want to watch people lose their legs and arms in the normal trench life? Do you want to deal with the killer rats? Would you be able to deal with the constant noise, the constant stench, and the constant fear? Could you, David?

Run for the hills David, for war is not bravery, fun, or adventure. War is death and therefore war is dead to me.

Your older brother, Emmanuel Craig R.I.P. Zachary Pope 1899-1915 Victor Rourke 1887-1916 Isaac Fundy 1897-1917

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LY S S A N D R A

Resurrection TEACHER: Andrea Craig SCHOOL:

Secondary Grades 11 and 12 Short Story

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Anne Charters-Klaver UNIT: Waterloo UNIT PRESIDENT: Michael Devoy by

RALUCA TOPLICEANU

ENGLAND, 1772 Many thoughts hovered nearby as he stood, motionless, a body veiled in black, before a perfectly carved stone, engraved letters dragging his eyes away from any worldly distractions. He thought of the galleon of darkened storm clouds that marched across the horizon, showering him with faint mist that clung to his skin.

He thought of the sorrowful mask concealing his face, one whose existence was known solely to him. He turned his collar against winter’s early bite, huddled deeper inside his protective coat. The sensation unnerved him; the feeling of cold breath tickled his neck. Fog concealed his legs, flowed around him, able to hold wicked secrets of the unknown within its midst. A single tree littered the otherwise barren ground, a despairing sight of limbs twisted in grotesque poses, a broken body battered by the wrath of the elements.

His eyes still watched it, enthralled by its ominous appearance, when a hand sprang forth from behind, grasping his shoulder. He flinched, horrified, as an image slowly took over his vision: Cold, dead fingers. So cold. Life draining from a convulsing body, shuddering with its last drawn breaths. Frantic eyes, round and wide, stare through a chalk-pale face, much alive even after the sense has gone.

A voice shattered the trail of his thoughts, yanking him abruptly from the world of shifting shadows that twined and danced off the walls of his mind.

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“Thomas? Are you alright?”

Restored to him was sight, a welcome relief from the apparitions of his conscious mind.

A face materialized itself before him, a pair of glistening blue eyes mirroring shards of concern. The face of a companion, an ally. The other man’s fingers tightened on his shoulder.

“Thomas?”

“I wanted to be with her, one last time.” Thomas pushed away the hand of his friend, straightening the coat atop his shoulders. His movements were quick, unsteady; with trembling fingers he executed the deed. A tremor presented itself upon speaking, the constricting of his throat. In his eyes shone streams of tears, and his face bore the features of a broken man. Along his forehead and mouth did the fine hand of grief chisel lines. No lively colour tinted his hollow cheeks. With an inhuman, agonized cry, he crumbled to his knees before the stone, sobs wracking his frail frame. In desperation, he dug his fingers into hard soil. Beneath his fingertips lay a body. Beneath his fingertips a chest offered no motion, lips no word and eyes no recognition of the world around them. Trapped in silence forever was she, chained by death for the rest of eternity. Lyssandra. Beloved wife. Dead.

“I loved her!” he cried, a baying wolf whose eerie howl echoed through air, a melancholy melody.

Elliott nodded solemnly, turning his eyes to the new grave, the fresh remains buried beneath the earth on which he stood, while the air was filled with the repeated, ghastly shrieks of a single raven. **** Those eyes! Such horrid things they are. They glance up at him, mock him, tease him.

They know he is afraid, so scared. They know of truth, they witnessed it, and now they look at him from a motionless face. They smile at him. He shudders, reaches out to close the lids atop them. Impossible! His heart beats in his ears, faster, fleeting. They will not stay closed. They open, quick flashes, laughing as he starts, following his every motion though the face–the corpse–that they glance out of has long been still.

Thomas sprang from his bed, his tortured gasp reflected by the barren walls.

Cold sweat layered his skin, dampening the sheets that tangled his body, a web that left him a trembling heap on the mattress. His accelerated heart beat in his ears, only overshadowed by his rugged, sharp breaths, and the frequent bursts of thunder that shattered the ominous silence of the room. A storm brewed outside, a darkened canvas split by the occasional bursts of light. Rain battered against the

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glass of the windows. The nightmare injected fear into the depths of his mind; so vivid were those wretched eyes, so full of life. Upon the setting of the golden sun, the melting of it into the recesses of the horizon, the creaking house was left to its own devices; emitting sounds that clenched his heart with a cold embrace, thrusting him into a world where everything came alive, a wound-up toy that would not stop its action. Every door and wall had eyes and ears. They heard his every sharp intake of breath, drew out his every exhale, a puff of mist in the frigid air. How had it become so cold? The chill bit at his skin, burrowed in his bones.

The dream haunted him once more, a plague ravaging his fevered sleep and waking hours. Must he always recall those merciless eyes whose gaze pierced the barricade to his very soul and turned blood in his veins to ice? Must they forever present themselves, taunt him with the lights sparking in their rich green irises?

They knew the truth, as did the attentive doors and walls, as did the windows and floors. He was not safe. Not anymore.

A sound protruded from darkness, petrified him as it wove around his neck, a knotted noose making each tortured breath more savage in sound, more strangled.

His hand reached for the night table at his bedside, drew a candle close, and coaxed a fire. The presence of light in his darkened realm soothed him somewhat. There was hope in that small flame that radiated onto his pallid face, his trembling hands that so clutched the candle, his only salvation. He needed such assurances, as the bursts of noise echoing through the uninhabited hallways, entering the many empty chambers whose doors were locked to any earthly being. The ground groaned under his feet as he took tentative steps. The door howled, a beastly wolf, as he pushed it on its hinges, leaving behind the security of his room to follow the trail of notes, for that was what they were, the repeated bursts of sound that punctuated the eerie silence. He knew them well, many times he had heard their call in an intricately woven melody. Yet the beautiful thoughts that came to mind were replaced by dread.

He stepped into the drawing room, light from his candle drawing spectres, animating them on the walls. They moved and swayed, as the bare branches of trees outside bent to and fro under the forceful wind. He was certain not a tint of colour painted his cheeks, leaving them ghastly pale. The candle he brought before him. A glorious piano faced him, pouring forth only four notes, no hint of a song, only those four keys pressed repeatedly, their order unaltered. Thomas could still recall her fingers swiftly gliding across the ivory keys, tempting the most complex compositions from the old instrument. He could see her, concentrated in her task, her brow furrowed, gentle waves of ebony hair pouring over her fragile shoulders.

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A portrait that hung above the ancient piano mirrored her likeness. Her eyes! That wretched man who captured perfectly the contours of her oval face, her arched brows, her full lips, did not falter in bestowing upon the painting the same horrid essence in its infernal eyes.

He shook his head. No more was the mistress there to pluck precious melodies from each well-preserved key, yet it still played on, the four notes- the same four notes-burning themselves into his brain.

The Grandfather clock, pendulum swinging, whose tick-tock, tick-tock would overlap with his hastened heart, shuddered to a stop. The four notes played on, each one tearing away another part of his sanity.

Suddenly, the enormous windows burst open, the only dam against the outside world, blowing rain drenching the floor on which he stood, howling wind rushing forth to yank the candle from his hands. He yelped as his source of light connected with the damp ground, the brief flame sizzling, writhing in pain, before it extinguished. He was again in darkness. Shivers traveled up and down his spine, cold fingers caressing his skin. His eyes frantically searched the blackness. During the flashes of lighting, he could make out his surroundings. The window open, a gaping mouth. The candle, nothing more than a piece of molten wax, next to his right foot. The gigantic piano, emitting the same repetitive series of notes, the keys pressed by no visible hand, accelerating, getting louder The dreadful eyes of that woman staring down at him from their place on the wall, smiling at him, laughing at him.

The portrait fell, the glass shattering as it clashed with the top of the piano. Yet, although the cutting shards could have clawed mercilessly into his tender flesh, the canvas was untouched – she was untouched.

Anguish pulled him to his knees, his limbs shaking violently. He glanced up at her with blood-shot eyes ringed by madness. “Leave me! Must you torment me still? Leave me!” he wailed, his voice tinged by hysterics. “You cannot be alive! I killed you myself! No heart beat in your chest, no sense was in your eyes!”

The wind roaring in his ears was not enough to overshadow the wretched notes that spouted forth into the darkness, into his ears. Four notes. Identical four keys, pressed with the briefest of pauses between them, as one would do as they spoke; a deafening sound echoing through the walls of a barren house, as the storm brewed outside.

Just four notes. Same four keys.

DEAD

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J U S T A B E R B E R S L AV E

Immaculata TEACHER: Kathy Bacile SCHOOL:

Secondary Grades 11 and 12 Poem

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Janice Hlushak UNIT: Ottawa UNIT PRESIDENT: Elaine McMahon by

R A F FA E L L A R A D Y AT E YA

Six feet tall, with ebony skin and fluctuating hues of brown, like the uneven faces of chocolate brown wood I have seen in the market.

Overworked, overburdened, muscles ache from long labour.

Underfed, underweight, stomach aches from prolonged starvation.

I stare, because I see you fondling fresh fruits, breathing fresh fir bars, and attempting to trade fern for frankincense.

I glare, because I cannot understand how the difference in our skin tones justifies the difference in our treatment my misfortunes, your luxuries, my pain, your gain.

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The fetid odor of fish reeks the air, it has become my only known oxygen.

I hear the mixed melody of the market, of bargains and hustles, tussles and scuffles, over the price of bread.

The bitter taste of my pipe never fades from the walls of my mouth, like the everlasting scars on my body from routine blows.

My ankle shackles remind me with each step, my worthlessness, my insignificance.

The once unbearable friction against my anklebone has disappeared, vanished —parallel to the loss of my aspirations and faith.

The soil which my bare foot has dented, imprinted and which I myself have braided cedar seeds through and neatly arranged, will only trace what is important‌ the number of rows of cotton I pick daily, the amount of fish I can empty in the harbour, my ability to work intensely for hours without complaining (or discontinue my mumbling after several lashes to my back).

Your navy blue striped suit, tailored to fit you perfectly, My worn-out, decaying white undergarments peek out from beneath my red-orange tatter.

Your cherry wood cane, you rely on it for stability, just as I rely on you for survival.

I overhear your unnatural, abstract, exaggerated words, the complexity of your vocabulary, the way you know just when to pause in a sentence, and yet I still cannot understand, master, how the difference in our skin tones justifies the difference in our treatment.

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SHARP CUT

Holy Name of Mary TEACHER: Karen Conderan

SCHOOL:

Secondary Grades 11 and 12 Play

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Divera Groot UNIT: Dufferin-Peel Secondary UNIT PRESIDENT: Gian Marcon

A L E K S A N D R A H O LO W N I A , M A R R I K A C O L E Y, N I K I D A W R I G H T, J A C LY N G E M Z A , B R I A - E R I E L A KO M A H , JENNIFER MULRINE AND NICOLE LISE WILLARD (middle l-r) E L I S A A N N E G I O V E N C O , M A R Y - C AT H E R I N E R O W I N S K I , NICOLE STYRCZULA, RENEE CASIDO, N AV N E E T PA N N U A N D PAT R I C I A D E L F I N (front l-r) B U KO L A WA L FA L L , E B O N Y G R I F F I T H - M I T C H E L L , R E B E C C A W H I T N E Y A N D R E G I N E C L A I R E M A N G L I C M OT

by

(back l-r)

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CHARACTERS (In order of appearance) Head Guard Knot Guard #2 Guard #3 Recon Smart Student Friend #2 Riley Friend #1 Lion Statue Cat Tree #1 Tree #2 Recon#2 Librarian Hustler Caller#1 Caller#2 Caller#3 Caller#4 Caller#5 SCENE ONE: DICTATOR’S PALACE Knot is tied up with two guards behind her, Centre Stage. Head Guard Stage Right.

Head Guard:

Tell me what you and your friends are planning! Now!

Knot whimpers, makes no eye contact.

Head Guard:

Where is Riley?

Knot:

I’m not telling you! (shakes head)

Guard #2 holds up scissors.

Head Guard:

We’ll see about that.

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Guard #2 opens scissors to Knot’s strings, starts sawing at string. Knot screams.

Lights dim, guards #2 and #3 drag Knot off Stage Left. Head guard takes chair off Stage Left.

SCENE TWO: CLASSROOM Bell rings and students file into class. Professor Recon brings in music stand Stage Right. Students enter Stage Left with desks.

Recon:

Everyone take your seat and take out your biology notebook. You all did relatively well on your Anatomy test... (looks at one student)... relatively...and now...

We are starting a new unit. What can any of you tell me about Evolution?

Smart Student:

(raises hand) It is the process of how something changes over a period of time.

Recon:

Very good. What about our evolution?

Friend #2:

Our evolution? What changed about us?

We’re the same way we’ve always been.

Recon:

What about these strings we have?

Do you think we’ve always had them?

Riley:

Of course. It’s impossible to live without them.

Recon:

Perhaps. (gestures to class) What do you all know about your history? Your ancestry?

Friend #1:

Our what?

Recon:

Your ancestry. Ancestry is your history, your past. In our case, history tells of a world inhabited by people who did not have strings.

All Students:

(In disbelief) What?! We didn’t have any strings? How?

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Smart Student:

Of course we had strings. We’ve always had strings she’s crazy.

Riley:

Miss? Please explain?

Recon:

(hiding reluctance) Sure. (nods) But before I start, I must caution you to all keep a tight lip about what I’m about to say.

Friend #2:

Why?

Recon:

It’s a touchy subject. Not many people are keen on hearing what used to be. The subject is taboo.

So please, avoid speaking about this outside this classroom.

Class silently acquiesces, nodding.

Recon:

We are all second generation string people. Many years ago, we were known as humans. We had no strings.

We had control over many things. However, with this kind of freedom comes responsibility. Because people were free to do as they wished, there were some who did not respect the law. Violence was a common occurrence and many people didn’t feel safe enough to come out of their homes. Then, there was a man, a very smart man, who believed it was time for a change. He started with the criminals. He put strings on them and by doing so, discovered he could control them, influence the motions of their bodies so discreetly it was almost as though they were still acting of their own accord. But over time he became obsessed with the power. One by one the humans were attached to strings and the puppet master became the ultimate ruler of our world. He still exists up to this day and still controls our very lives.

Riley:

(disbelieving, mildly outraged) We’re being controlled?

That’s despicable! We should be free! Why hasn’t anyone stood up to him?

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Recon:

Not many people know the complete truth, and the very few who do know want nothing to do with it. It’s actually quite laughable; even though we’ve been placed under such mastery, things like fear, indifference and cowardice still manage to seep through somehow. It can’t be scientifically proven...but (dies off, lost in own world, offtopic with a hint of contempt)

Smart Student:

(cuts in) You mean there are more lunatics out there who believe in this nonsense? How are you a teacher? You’ve completely lost your mind! When I get home, I’m telling my father to put me into private education.

Recon:

(calmly, unaffected, shows no sign of being offended) Believing the theory or not is completely up to you.

But I must once again ask that none of you discuss this with anyone outside this class. (much more quietly, only those in front may hear) Things may happen.

Bell Rings.

Recon:

Have a good afternoon, everyone. Hope to see you all again tomorrow.

Everyone gets up and leaves the class except for Knot and Riley.

Riley:

(to Knot) Go on, ask her more.

Knot:

(to Riley) You do it... I don’t know what to say. (nudges Riley towards Recon and peeks over her shoulder)

Riley:

(to Knot) Fine! (places hand on Recon’s shoulder for her to turn around) Miss, can you explain the theory more to us? (Recon’s string falls off) Your string! Are you okay?

Recon:

(attempting to put the string back on) Oh, don’t worry: old age, old strings. But about today’s lecture: (shakes head) I have already said too much. I told you that it’s dangerous to talk about it.

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Knot:

(pipes up, exploding with impatience) But it’s such a big deal! (quiets down) Someone needs to talk about it.

Recon:

It’s too dangerous. No. (turns around, hides a smile) But... (turns back to Riley and Knot) If you’re really that curious and you’re really serious about it... Meet me in Reece Park. Midnight. In front of the lion statue. (shoves books into briefcase, messily, and leaves in a hurry)

Knot:

(a little more relaxed) That was strange.

Riley:

But it’s Professor Recon; we’ll be fine. (distant look) A world without strings. Humans. It’s just so ...unimaginable. I believe it. (nearly surprised to hear herself say that) And I want to know the truth. (smiles and exits)

Knot:

(to herself) This doesn’t feel right... (Exits)

Knot takes her chair and exits Stage Left. Students return and remove their chairs Stage Left.

SCENE THREE: PARK Lion & Cat enter Stage Right and go to Centre Stage. Trees follow. Enter Knot and Riley Stage Right.

Knot:

This had better be worth it. If my parents find out I’m not in bed, I am so dead.

Riley:

Relax, if something goes wrong I’ll just say you were at my house. My dad is out of town for the night, so your parents will just have to take my word for it.

Knot:

Great. You know my parents don’t like you very much.

Riley:

Does that really matter right now? Where is she?

I’m freezing!

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Knot:

I wish she’d hurry up; I like my eight hours of sleep and as of right now, I’m down to six.

Riley:

Shhh! Did you hear that?

Enter Recon, who trips over cat. Cat opens eyes.

Recon:

Riley, Knot. (looks at them, sternly) I think meeting was a mistake. I don’t have much time; they’re watching us.

They’re always watching us!

Riley:

Who is watching us?

Recon:

The Government, the Dictator, his minions, take your pick. It doesn’t matter who is watching us, it is why they are watching us. They don’t want civilians to know the truth; the truth is the key to freedom. But right now, the truth could kill you. (looks around) We’re in danger even as I speak. They can always see us. (panic rising) They’re coming and they won’t show mercy to anyone.

Knot:

I don’t understand! What do they want?

Recon:

They want to stop anybody who might be a rebel.

Riley:

Like us?

Enter two guards from audience.

Recon:

(points at guards) Run kids, run! Hide! (pushes them)

Riley:

(looks back) But what about you?

Recon:

Forget about me. Hide!

Riley and Knot run and hide. Two guards approach Recon.

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Head Guard:

Professor Recon, we are arresting you on suspicion of sedition. (sceptically looks around) Who are you talking to?

Recon:

(firmly) No one. I’m alone.

Guard 2:

It doesn’t matter, we’ll find them. And we now have you, which is more than enough to deflate any rebellion.

Two Guards drag Recon off stage. Riley comes out of hiding.

Riley:

Knot? Knot!? Where are you?

Knot comes out of hiding.

Knot:

WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO?!

WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO?!

Riley:

Calm down, calm down. I’m sure she’ll be fine.

Knot:

CALM DOWN? ARE YOU CRAZY? OUR TEACHER JUST GOT ARRESTED FOR TREASON!

Riley:

I know, and we’re going to help her. We can’t let her suffer. She tried to help us.

Knot:

I know you care about her, Riley. But you heard what he said, this could be very dangerous. Is she worth it?

Riley:

Is she worth it? She’s our teacher, she’s one of us!

Everyone is worth fighting for! Let’s go home, we’ll make a plan tomorrow.

Knot and Riley exit Stage Left. Statue and trees awaken, look at each other, look at cat.

Cat gets up and exits Stage Right. Lion exits Stage Right followed by trees.

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SCENE FOUR: CLASSROOM (Bell rings, enter students. Riley and Knot huddle together whispering.)

Riley:

(to Knot) Are you okay? You don’t look like you slept last night.

Knot:

(to Riley) Are you serious? (bewildered) Let’s recap, shall we? We discover there’s a crazy person who put these strings on us to control our every move, our teacher meets us in the park and then gets arrested, and now you want to start a rebellion! Yeah, I slept wonderfully!

Riley:

(to Knot) Look, I know you’re scared. I’m pretty freaked out by the whole thing too, but getting snarky about it isn’t helping. We need to come up with a plan and we need to do it fast!

A new teacher enters Stage Left dressed like Recon.

Recon #2:

Hello class, I hope you had a refreshing evening.

Please take out your textbooks and turn to page 294.

Today, we will be studying Biochemistry.

Friend #1:

(raises hand) Um, excuse me Miss, but where is Professor Recon?

Friend #2:

Yeah, she was going to teach us more about evolution today.

Recon #2:

I have no idea what you are talking about. I am Professor Recon. Evolution is not in the curriculum.

Friend #1:

You are definitely not Professor Recon. (says confidently, then looks around) I’m not the only one who sees this... am I?

Smart Student:

Yeah, you are. (snobbishly) Are you stupid?

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Friend #2:

No, you’re not. (comforting Friend #1) That is not Professor Recon... (looks back up to front) You are not Professor Recon.

Recon #2:

I will put an end to this now. I am Professor Recon.

I have been your Professor since the beginning of the year. Now please be quiet and turn to page 294.

Smart Student:

(quietly) What is wrong with you guys? She’s the same teacher we’ve had all year. Now shut up!

Riley:

(to Friends #1 and #2) Don’t worry guys, you’re not wrong. That isn’t Professor Recon – well not the real one anyway. Knot and I saw the real professor get arrested last night.

Friend #1:

(loudly) Arrested!? (class shushes, stage whisper) For what?

Knot:

(quietly) For the lesson she gave us yesterday.

Riley:

Everything we know is a lie. And Professor Recon was trying to tell us the truth when the police came and took her away.

Recon #2:

(flicker of annoyance) That is quite enough, class. (mock-sweetly) You are overtired from all your homework, and therefore I will forgive you for forgetting who I am.

Riley:

Miss? Where would they take someone who wants to rebel against the government?

Recon #2:

(matter-of-factly) I don’t know, but they would be punished gravely. But I don’t know why you are asking these questions.

Riley:

(accusatory) You’re one of them, aren’t you? (jumps up) WHERE DID THEY TAKE PROFESSOR RECON?!

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Recon #2:

Silence! There will be none of these questions in my classroom. Turn to page 294! The next person to talk out of turn will be staying after class for a week cleaning the room top to bottom with a toothbrush!

Students work quietly, Recon #2 writes on the board. Bell Rings, students get up.

Recon #2:

Riley, could you stay after class for a minute?

Riley:

(to Knot, Friend #1 and Friend #2) Meet me in the library.

We have to do something.

Friend #2:

Right

Knot:

(to Riley, quietly and shyly, but sternly) Watch your temper.

All exit except Riley and Recon #2.

Recon #2:

Riley, I say this to you because I’m concerned. I’m guessing you heard some wild story about our past, but believe me when I say that none of these myths are true.

Please stay focused on your real studies, and do not raise your voice at me again.

Riley:

(flatly) I don’t know who you are (pause) or what side you’re on, (pause) but one thing I know for certain (pause) is that you are not Professor Recon. I don’t know where she is, (pause) or what you’ve done to her, (pause) but one way or another (pause) I’m going to find her.

Recon #2:

What a very active imagination you have, child.

But be cautious; an imagination like that could lead you into trouble. Now, I have this package for you. (hands over manila envelope) Have a nice day.

Remember this conversation.

Riley exits Stage Left, taking one last narrowed glance at Recon #2.

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SCENE FIVE: LIBRARY Knot, Friends #1 and #2 are huddled over a book. Librarian and other students are walking or studying in background.

Knot:

(troubled) Something doesn’t add up.

Friends #1 and #2:

Is it your math again? (cheeky grin)

Enter Riley. Walks toward friends #1and #2 and Knot.

Riley:

Hey guys, I’m glad you all came.

We seriously need to talk.

Friend #2:

Okay, so what’s this about an uprising?

Knot told us what happened last night.

Friend #1:

Yeah! It sounded so unreal!

What are we going to do about this new teacher?

Riley:

What’s there to do about her? (surrendered shrug) She isn’t our problem. Our problem is the government.

And you know what that means, don’t you?

Friend #2:

Don’t go into politics?

Knot:

(rolls eyes) No, it means we have to do some research and learn about it from the inside out. (points at package in Riley’s hands) What is that? Is that what she kept you behind for?

Riley:

Yeah, she gave this to me, and told me to keep my temper and overactive imagination to myself.

Friend #2:

Well, what is it? Should we open it?

Riley:

Might as well. What else are we going to do with it? (opens package, pulls out string and letter, reads letter) “When you hold this string, remember what happens when you ask too many questions. Do not doubt your

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government and you will be safe. Be careful what you say and what you do, because the next string we send to another nosy teenager (pause) could be yours.”

Knot:

(very shaky) Is that… her string?

Friend #1:

Who? Whose string is it?

Riley:

(very quietly) Those sick… what kind of… I don’t believe… (jumps up and yells) THEY’RE ANIMALS!

Librarian:

Shhhh! This is a library! Inside voices please.

Friend #2:

So, whose string is it?

Knot:

P…Professor R…Recon’s

Friends #1 and #2 gasp.

Riley:

(quietly) We have to do something. They can’t get away with this.

Friend #1:

But what can we do? We’re only teenagers.

Friend #2:

Yeah, and we don’t know anything. Who’s going to believe us?

Knot:

That’s why we have to keep searching.

Friend #2:

I don’t know. This seems too dangerous; we could get into a lot of trouble.

Friend #1:

Seems dangerous? It is dangerous: they gave Riley Professor Recon’s string in an envelope! I want nothing to do with this! (Stands up to leave)

Riley:

No, please don’t go! We’re not asking you to kick the government’s door down, just help us gather some information. Please, we need you!

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Friend #1:

Fine, but I’m warning you, if I feel at all threatened, I’m leaving.

Friend #2:

Same here.

Riley:

Fair enough. Thanks. Now, let’s get to work.

SCENE SIX: LIBRARY MONTAGE Begin Montage.

Elapsed over three days, lights dim and brighten to show time passing: After day one- Friend #1 exits Stage Left with chair.

After day two- Friend #2 exits Stage Left with chair.

Day three-Riley and Knot work hard, then Riley goes home, leaving Knot alone.

SCENE SEVEN: LIBRARY Riley leaves Knot alone in the library. Knot is reading when she comes across something that makes her gasp.

Knot:

Oh my god! It’s true, everything she told us!

A hooded figure and two guards approach Knot and pull her off Stage Left, Knot screams.

SCENE EIGHT: CLASSROOM/DICTATOR’S PALACE There is a clear division down the middle of the stage representing two parallel storylines.

On the left side is Knot’s torture scene: Knot is tied up with two guards.

On the right side are her friends worrying about her: Riley, Friend #1 and Friend #2.

Right Side Riley:

Have you seen Knot? She was supposed to call me when she got home yesterday.

Friend #1:

Um, no. We haven’t seen her. Did you check the library?

Yeah, that was the first place I looked.

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Friend #2:

Maybe she just went home and fell asleep. She might be running late. Don’t worry about it.

Riley:

But Knot always calls me, I’m her best friend.

Friend #1:

Relax, what’s the worst that could have happened?

Left Side Knot:

(shaky) Hello? Hello?! Where am I? Who are you?

Enter hooded figure and Head Guard from Stage Left.

Knot:

You! I knew it was you.

Head Guard:

(walks behind Knot and pulls her head back) What is she planning?

Knot:

You’re running out of time! She’s getting closer.

Head Guard:

Who is with her? What does she know?

Knot bites her lip and looks at the floor.

Head Guard:

No answer? I highly recommend that you answer me, or else there will be severe consequences.

Knot shakes head and continues to stare at floor.

Head Guard:

(yelling) What does she know?

Knot spits at hooded figure.

Head Guard:

You little brat! (slaps Knot)

Right Side Riley:

C’mon guys, I’m really worried about her.

Where could she be?

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Friend #2:

Relax Riley, she probably slept in.

She’s been working really hard.

Riley:

But she never sleeps in.

Friend #1:

And you never used to build armies.

People change, Riley.

Riley:

Yeah, people change… You used to be loyal friends.

Friend #2:

What’s that supposed to mean?

Riley:

I noticed you both stopped coming to the library.

What’s the problem?

Friend #1:

You’re looking for a ghost, Riley! I don’t believe in it anymore. Yeah sure, maybe the real Professor Recon did vanish and got replaced by someone with the same name.

Nothing proves she was arrested!

Riley:

I saw her get arrested! So did Knot! And now even Knot is gone!

Friend #2:

So she’s absent from school. No big deal! She’s probably sick at home because you are driving her on like a mule!

Do you even care what Knot thinks? She might not even believe in the theory. But that doesn’t matter because dear Riley knows best and she decides what to do.

Riley is struck speechless.

Friend #1:

You’re the most selfish person I know, Riley.

And if Knot does get into trouble because of this, it will all be your fault.

Friends #1 and #2 exit. Hustler enters Stage Right.

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Hustler:

Well, that was harsh.

Riley:

(in tears) Do I know you?

Hustler:

That doesn’t matter. Your friend is in some serious trouble.

Riley:

What do you mean?

Hustler:

Poor Knot, she learned too much.

Riley:

How do you know this?

Hustler:

(ignoring question) No one messes with the government without suffering the consequences, Riley.

Riley:

Do you know where she is?

Hustler:

More or less. I can take you there if you would like.

Riley:

How can I trust you? I don’t even know who you are.

Hustler:

You trusted those two girls. And you thought they were your friends. Are they still with you now?

Riley:

(looks to where Friends #1 and #2 exited) No, I’m alone.

Hustler:

Yes, you are. Which is why I am willing to help you.

Do you trust me?

Riley:

Maybe. But first, I’m going to go find out if any of my other friends can help us out. I feel like we need more than two people.

Left Side Head Guard:

How dare you spit at your ruler?! Do you even know who she is?

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Knot:

(in tears) I thought I did.

Head Guard:

Nothing is ever as it seems, Knot. No one will ever overthrow our leader. And now, I need to know what your friend is planning!

Knot:

I’m not telling you!

Dictator snaps fingers.

Guards #2 and #3 hold scissors up to her strings.

Head Guard:

Last chance, Knot. We can end this right now if you just tell us how we can stop Riley.

Knot:

No!

Dictator snaps fingers. Guards #2 and #3 begin sawing at string.

Knot starts screaming. Lights go dim, sound of scissors cutting and Knot’s screams.

SCENE NINE: RILEY’S BEDROOM Riley sitting on bed, holding phone. Five people are standing upstage with their backs to Riley.

Riley:

I can’t do this alone. Knot is being held captive somewhere and I have to save her. (looks through phonebook) Maybe some of my friends can help me. (dials phone)

Caller #1:

(turns around) Hello?

Riley:

Hey, it’s Riley. Do you remember the class about evolution?

Caller #1:

Oh hey, um, sorry to cut you off, but I have to go, uh…make a cake. (Exit Stage Right)

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Caller #2 turns around.

Riley:

Well, I was thinking about looking into it further.

Do you want to help?

Caller #2:

Sorry…I…can’t…hear…you…Too…much…static…

(Exit Stage Right)

Caller #3 turns around.

Riley:

Knot was helping me out, but she…uh…well she’s not here anymore and I need more help.

Caller #3:

Look, sorry. I’m really busy at the moment. Good luck, though! (Exit Stage Right)

Caller #4 turns around.

Riley:

I have proof. I just need some back up. Can you help me?

Caller #4:

That sounds really interesting and I’d love to help, but I’m kind of grounded. Sorry. (Exit Stage Right)

Caller #5 turns around.

Riley:

Please! I really need some help. Everyone else has turned me down. I need to find Knot.

Could you help me, please?

Caller #5:

…you know, I see your point. How ‘bout we meet up and talk about this a little more?

Riley:

That’s great! Let’s meet at the park in…an hour.

Caller #5:

Fine. See you then.

Enter black hooded figure who abducts Caller #5. Riley exits.

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SCENE TEN: PARK Riley is pacing at the park, by herself.

Riley:

(looks at watch) She was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago. (exasperated sigh) Who am I kidding?

She’s not coming. Knot… where’d you go? When we started, I said we’d build an army. But what kind of army can I make when no one believes me? These are our lives. This is about our freedom. Why is everyone so blind? They don’t see that our own strings are going to strangle us. What do I do? Knot… What do I do? You were the only one who was there for me. It’s dangerous out there. We have to fight the power together!

I can’t do it alone. I know I’ll find you, but AHH, where do I start?

I’m charging blindly forward. I don’t know… I’m not sure of anything anymore. First Professor Recon disappeared, and now you. My best and most trusted friend. What have I done? But I know for certain that when I get to the front lines, I’m not going to see your blood in the dirt. Even if they take my life, they are not going to take yours.

Hustler enters Stage Right.

Hustler:

So, is this it? Just you?

Riley:

Yeah, just me.

Hustler:

I could have told you that you’d end up alone.

Never mind, you’re here now. Are you ready?

Riley:

(nods) Let’s go.

Hustler and Riley exit Stage Left.

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SCENE ELEVEN: DICTATOR’S PALACE Enter Hustler and Riley Stage Right. Knot’s limp body is down Stage Left.

Hustler:

Well, here we are. This is it. This is as far as I go.

You’re on your own from now on. (turns to leave)

Riley:

Thanks for everything. This really means a lot to me.

Hustler:

Yeah? Well, good luck kid.

Hustler exits Stage Right.

Riley:

I’ve got this far, and I have no clue what to do next. (notices Knot’s body) Knot? KNOT! (runs over to her body and starts cradling her) No, no, no! Come back Knot!

Come back! This wasn’t the way it was supposed to end!

I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! (cries)

Enter Professor Recon. Walks over to Riley and Knot. Places hand on Riley’s shoulder.

Riley:

Professor? (wipes face) Professor! You’re alive!

Are you okay?

Recon smiles knowingly and walks towards Knot’s body.

Riley:

Wait. How can you be here? You were arrested.

I saw you. Are you a prisoner here?

Recon:

(bends down to Knot’s body and strokes her face) Isn’t she lovely? It’s almost as if she were asleep. (plays with Knot’s hair) Yes, sleeping. Innocent.

Completely detached from this realm and residing in a world of her own. An eternal sleep. Being taken hostage by an unknown and inevitable force… must be frightening. (lets go of Knot and stands up) It’s a shame though. She was a smart one. Pity she had to die.

Riley:

(looks between Knot and Recon) You…No. You didn’t.

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Recon smiles and then snaps her fingers. Two guards enter.

Riley:

(whispers) Why? (yelling and throwing herself at Recon) Why?

Guards hold Riley back.

Riley:

How could you?

Recon:

She knew too much. Had to be disposed of. Loyal though.

Not once did she give you up. And very brave. But there is a fine line between bravery and foolishness.

Riley:

I don’t understand… Why?

Recon:

I had it planned from the beginning. I set you up. I was beginning to worry about rebels like yourself. I walked into class that day to discover who would be willing to jeopardize their safety for the good of mankind.

However, I did not suspect you and your dear friend would push this hard. I thought my string in the mail would be enough. You surprised me. But in the end Riley, it wasn’t I who killed Knot. It was you.

Riley:

Don’t you dare turn this on me. You killed her. You killed everyone that day you put strings on them. Who do you think you are to take peoples’ lives away? What makes you so different? Tell me!

Recon:

Knowledge. I know things you wouldn’t even dare to imagine. I know the truth of this time and the history of this world. The meaning of our existence. And from that, I’ve tamed you to be the creatures you should have been.

But, accidents happen.

Riley:

Accidents happen? That’s your excuse for killing Knot?

For killing innocent people? You’re a power-hungry maniac! And you were worried that a couple of kids could dethrone you!

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Recon:

I am the lord. I am the queen. I am the emperor.

I am the president. I am the governor. I am the god. (walks over to Riley and leans into her face) I am the puppet master.

Riley:

You have no mastery over me.

Recon:

Indeed! What a bright child you are! Nearly as bright and naĂŻve as I was once. But there is the difference between us: I discovered my truth and purpose.

You have true potential. Which is why I am willing to share my power with you. (takes scissors out of pocket and holds them in front of Riley’s face) I will grant you a choice, Riley. Join me in the seat of power and supremacy, or join your friend?

Guards let go of Riley.

Recon:

Have you reached a decision?

Riley:

This is for you Knot.

Riley walks downstage to face the audience, then exits Stage Right. Recon and Guards exit Stage Left.

SCENE TWELVE: CLASSROOM Bell rings and students file into class. Professor Riley brings in music and stands Stage Right. Students enter Stage Left with desks.

Riley:

Hello, class. Today we will be studying evolution.

Blackout THE END

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D E LV I N G I N T O M Y M E M O R Y B O X

SCHOOL:

St. Theresa of Lisieux TEACHER: Kevin Woods

Secondary Grades 11 and 12 Nonfiction

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Greg Bolton UNIT: York UNIT PRESIDENT: Liz Stuart by

CLARA HYERIM RYU

I

am not generally the type of person who reaches out to the relics of my past with any kind of longing or heartfelt emotion- my rather indifferent attitude towards the basic notion of “past memories” has always prevented me from feeling either sincere reminiscence or sincere regret. However, even I – with my blasé stance on personal history-have one clandestine and brief recollection in the bottom drawer of my memory box that tends to pop into view every time I rummage around my short life. It instantly whips me back to my grade three year-a relatively miserable year that alternated passionate longing for my old school and deepest rancour towards my new school. Yet one memorable teacher that year may have, if I may declare it so frankly, changed the course of my life forever. She taught countless lessons on subjects that a typical grade three teacher is not usually expected to teach, the most memorable one being how to be comfortable in my own skin.

I was forced to move from Christview Public School to St. Michael’s Catholic Elementary School in my third grade. Still bitterly caught up in the process of adapting to Canada as a new home, I was then a figure known within my family as obstinate and egregious in every way possible. Compared to my angelic and virtuous twin brother, I do not doubt that I was actually perceived as a kind of cantankerous devil child—literally his evil twin! In any case, I was socially awkward, reticent, and suffered from an intense language barrier which made it even more difficult to make close friends.

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I remember my very first day at St. Michael’s, or rather, my very first encounter with Mrs. Ciccarelli. The drably cemented playground with patches of yellow grass did not appeal to me, and I also was not fond of the stained yellow portables that blocked my view of the emerald woods. When I stridently cried out that I did not want to be separated from my mother, Mrs. Ciccarelli (whose name I had immense difficulty pronouncing) stepped up and comforted me by saying how much fun the year was going to be. Her smile was so genial, so cordial, that I instantly became more comfortable. Importantly, so too did my mother.

From that moment on, I became attached to my new teacher. She was different, she understood – no, listened-wholeheartedly to my thoughts, and I would stay after school just to talk with her. Every assignment I completed had encouraging notes written on them. Although my marks were terrible, due to my poor English, I would walk home with a giant smile on my face since those kind remarks kept my spirits up. Slowly but gradually, I began to enjoy school and Canada more and more.

My English slowly improved, and as my social life picked up, so did my deep admiration for Mrs. Ciccarelli. More importantly however, my disposition was improving—at least according to my family. I became less obstinate and I smiled more. I actually enjoyed school and I was more self-assured. Thankfully, my antisocial behaviour and conduct were also progressing little by little. People noticed the change. When they commented, “She looks well-I guess school is good,” my mother would always reply, “Yes, she has a great teacher this year.” Of course, that was an understatement, but I was still a very young child at the time and failed to understand that my beloved teacher was the cause for my steady character change.

When I grudgingly admitted that the year had come to an end, I remember imploring my mother to ask the office for me to have Mrs. Ciccarelli as my grade four teacher, not realizing that teachers are normally assigned specific grades to teach. But thanks to Mrs. Ciccarelli, I opened up much more quickly in the fourth grade because I had finally acquired a social life and was able to transition quite smoothly. I had also gained enough sense to discern what could and could not be accomplished in my fourth grade sphere. Now I am in grade twelve, and I agree with my mother wholeheartedly that Mrs. Ciccarelli truly did have a huge impact on me. I can now begin to comprehend the effect she had and how she did it. What an effect! Without her, I could still be a taciturn, unpleasant human being living pathetically in her own isolated little world. I am not in contact with her today, unfortunately, but I recognize the kind of power a teacher holds to drastically transform a student’s life. I, too, would like to be like Mrs. Ciccarelli, and change

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others’ lives for the better. Through seemingly insignificant yet important means, a teacher’s actions do make a difference. In fact, to me, those small, important gestures are the essence of compassion and the often spoken about “giving back to the world.”

The excessively written about subject of a memorable teacher immeasurably impacting an unmemorable student’s life may be rather trite. Nevertheless, Mrs. Ciccarelli must be mentioned if I am to begin talking about my special moments in life, because she was able to make that astronomical difference in me.

I’m not exaggerating. The word limit of a typical essay is much too constricting to illustrate the kind of influence Mrs. Ciccarelli had on my grade three self. This self was the invisible little Asian student sitting at the very back of the classroom, tentatively raising her hand to answer the intermittent unthreatening question.

However short, her presence in my life has created an inextricable bond between us. After unsuccessfully attempting to convince myself to write about my initial encounter with classic films, I could not, because films could never replace Mrs. Ciccarelli’s perpetual influence on my disposition. Being so long ago, my memories of Mrs. Ciccarelli are dim, and yet not so nebulous that I could ever forget her profound influence on my young life.

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PRIX JEUNES ÉCRIVAINS

AU

THORS A W

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YO

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UN

2011

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V

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IN

PR

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U N E S ÉCRI

PA N D A

St. Peter TEACHER: Anne Viau SCHOOL:

Elementary Junior and Senior Kindergarten Nonfiction

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Shelley Bray UNIT: Eastern UNIT PRESIDENT: Barb Dobrowolski by

CHENELLE BREE LAPENSEE

Voici un panda noir.

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L’ E N T R A Î N E U S E D E H O C K E Y

St. Joseph TEACHER: Edith MacIntyre SCHOOL:

Elementary Grades 1 and 2 Short Story

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Tania Lamond UNIT: Peterborough, VNC UNIT PRESIDENT: Bart Scollard by

ZOEY HANNAH ZAHORODNY SMITH

I

l était une fois une petite fille qui s’appelait Madi. Elle savait toujours qu’elle voulait être entraîneuse de hockey quand elle sera grande. Mais une journée, la maman de Madi a dit: « Madi je veux que tu sois professeure. » « Mais, je ne veux pas être professeure Maman, » dit Madi. Le lendemain Madi s’est réveillée et a dit à sa maman: « Maman, je ne veux pas être professeure, je veux être entraîneuse de hockey parce que c’est mon choix. » « D’accord, » dit Maman. « Je m’excuse. C’est correct. » Dix années plus tard, Madi était une ENTRAÎNEUSE DE HOCKEY comme elle voulait être. Sa maman était contente. Madi a enseigné aux joueurs de hockey qui avaient sept et huit ans. Madi aime beaucoup être entraîneuse de hockey. Des fois, le père de Madi vient sur la glace pour aider Madi à enseigner aux joueurs. Les joueurs pratiquent très bien. Le père de Madi est fier de sa fille. Elle est devenue ce qu’elle voulait être. Maintenant, Madi aimerait faire partie de l’équipe du Canada.

Réalisera-t-elle un deuxième rêve?

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S AV E Z - V O U S ?

St. Catherine TEACHER: Judith Rioux-Wilson SCHOOL:

Elementary Grades 1 and 2 Poem

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Marilyn Perrin UNIT: Peterborough, VNC UNIT PRESIDENT: Bart Scollard by

O L I V I A C R AW F O R D

Savez-vous ce qui est comique?

Moi je suis fantastique.

Christian aime les mathématiques.

Liam est comique.

Christopher aime des porc-épiques.

Anna est magique.

Karolina aime la gymnastique.

Will est électrique.

Katie pratique.

Julia est unique.

Tori veut être dans le cirque.

Jacob est statique.

Laila aime la musique.

Owen est numérique.

Marisa est solide comme une brique.

Ben aime l’Afrique.

Ryan aime le Mexique.

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LE PORC-ÉPIC

St. Theresa TEACHER: Monique Lebel SCHOOL:

Elementary Grades 1 and 2 Nonfiction

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Alethea Doucet UNIT: Nipissing Elementary UNIT PRESIDENT: Linda Gordon by

EMMY GIROUX

Le porc-épic est un mammifère. Il vit dans la forêt près de la rivière. Les piquants aident à flotter dans l’eau.

Il mange des plantes, des feuilles, des brindilles et l’écorce des arbres. Les piquants du bébé sont doux.

Les pattes de derrière sont pour grimper. Le porc-épic a 30,000 piquants. Les piquants aident à protéger et à marcher dans la neige. La plupart du temps le porc-épic reste près de la tanière. Le porc-épic est mon animal préféré.

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LE BON CŒUR

St. Margaret of Scotland TEACHER: Carmelina Salituro

SCHOOL:

Elementary Grades 3 and 4 Short Story

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Lucy Cavar UNIT: Dufferin-Peel Elementary UNIT PRESIDENT: Berni Campbell by

S A R A H M AT TA

U

ne fois à la forêt, il y avait une girafe et une chèvre.

La girafe, Panodra, était vraiment belle avec des grandes taches oranges et son cou très long.

Panodra aussi était célèbre avec ses bonnes paroles, elle aidait tous ses amis et ne blessait jamais quelqu’un avec un mauvais mot.

La chèvre, Bony, a une fourrure brune et une petite barbe magnifique, et elle peut courir aussi vite que le vent.

Panodra et Bony étaient des bonnes amies, elles ont l’habitude de passer la journée ensemble. Leur jeu favori est attraper la balle et elles aiment manger l’herbe.

Le 4 mars était l’anniversaire de Panodra. Bony a invité tous leurs amis, le lapin, la paresse, le cerf, le geai bleu et l’écureuil.

Il y avait un grand gâteau, avec le nom Panodra qui était écrit en rose parce que c’était sa couleur préférée.

Ils ont obtenu des assiettes, tasses à jus, des collations et des chapeaux de fête.

Bony a préparé des jeux pour sa meilleure amie, comme le Bingo, le Scrabble et chasse au trésor.

Tous se sont rassemblés à 16 heures précises comme cela a été mentionné dans l’invitation d’anniversaire.

Ils ont commencé à boire du jus et ils ont mangé des collations. Puis Bony a appelé chacun pour démarrer le jeu de Bingo… C’était vraiment très amusant!

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Et voici le moment le plus important de la fête, Panodra va souffler sa bougie et tout le monde va chanter « Joyeux anniversaire. » Après que Panodra a soufflé sa bougie, ils ont commencé à découper le gâteau et savourer le gout délicieux.

Tout à coup, une énorme araignée noire surgit. Tout le monde avait tellement peur et ils ont commencé à crier parce qu’ils savaient qu’il y avait une araignée mauvaise dans la forêt, mais ils ne l’ont jamais vu avant.

Renny l’araignée était connu pour être très mauvais, il n’a pas d’amis.

Effectivement, il était si gentil, mais il ne peut pas s’exprimer si bien pour les animaux. À cause de sa laideur à l’exterieur, tout le monde pensait, « il est méchant. » Il est venu pour souhaiter un joyeux anniversaire à Panodra, mais comme d’habitude, tout le monde avaient tellement peur de lui…

Il se sentait si mauvais et qu’il voulait partir, mais Panodra, avec son bon cœur même, l’a appelé et l’a remercié d’être venu à son anniversaire.

Elle a demandé à Renny s’il peut rester pour le reste de la fête.

Renny était si heureux, car personne ne lui a jamais demandé quelque chose comme ça avant. À partir de ce jour-là, tout le monde a su que Renny était très bon. Quelle que soit son apparence physique, il a un grand coeur, et ils sont tous devenus des amis.

La fin

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DA N S M O N R Ê V E

St. Stephen TEACHER: Pauline Lebert SCHOOL:

Elementary Grades 3 and 4 Poem

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Stacey Hellewell UNIT: Brant Haldimand Norfolk UNIT PRESIDENT: Len McDonald by

DYLAN STROUD

Dans mon rêve je vole comme un aigle.

Dans mon rêve je marche comme un éléphant.

Dans mon rêve je cours comme un guépard.

Dans mon rêve je saute comme un kangourou.

Dans mon rêve je nage comme un poisson.

Dans mon rêve je patine comme Wayne Gretzky.

Dans mon rêve je grimpe comme un singe.

Dans mon rêve je creuse comme un chien.

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FA C E B O O K : E S T - C E Q U E C’EST UNE CHOSE N É G AT I V E O U P O S I T I V E ?

St. Cyril TEACHER: Dominique Martell SCHOOL:

Elementary Grades 3 and 4 Nonfiction

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Nicole Guegueirre UNIT: Toronto Elementary UNIT PRESIDENT: Anthony Bellissimo by

A N T H O N Y N E L LO D E L F I N O

V

oilà. Il y a presque deux ans que je visite le site Facebook sur mon ordinateur. Mes parents me disaient toujours non quand je leur demandais d’avoir un compte Facebook. Mais si mes deux frères, et certains de mes amis sont sur Facebook, alors pourquoi pas moi? Enfin, j’ai gagné la bataille. Facebook fait maintenant partie de ma vie.

Je vais vous parler des aspects positifs et négatifs de Facebook. Les avantages du site Facebook sont que nous pouvons parler à nos amis et à ceux qui habitent loin de nous. Je visite le site habituellement quand je veux parler avec mes amis d’école.

Je parle des devoirs que nous avons à faire ou des choses en général qui intéressent les enfants comme moi. Je peux aussi parler avec mes cousins qui habitent en Angleterre, puisque ma mère vient de là. Mes cousins me montrent des photos de l’Angleterre sur Facebook.

De plus, je peux rester en contacte avec les jeunes qui sont restés chez nous. Ils ont voyagé du Mexique, du Brésil, de l’Italie, de la France et de la Thaïlande pour venir ici au Canada pour apprendre l’Anglais. C’est Facebook qui m’a donné l’opportunité de garder le contacte avec mes amis dans toutes les parties du monde.

Voilà les avantages que Facebook peut nous donner.

Mais au contraire, Facebook a ses aspects négatifs. Un de ces aspects c’est l’information. Plusieurs personnes donnent trop d’informations personnelles sur ce site ou mettent des photos qu’ils ne devraient pas.

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Un autre aspect négatif c’est que certaines personnes développent une dépendance à Facebook. Ces personnes sont sur Facebook pendant plusieurs heures de la journée. Elles ne font pas leurs devoirs et ne parlent pas beaucoup avec leurs parents, parce qu’elles sont trop occupées avec Facebook. Elles doivent dire à tout le monde ce qu’elles font à chaque minute de leur vie. Mais cela ne m’intéresse pas.

Le dernier aspect négatif de Facebook c’est la possibilité de l’intimidation.

Certaines personnes disent des choses mauvaises sur Facebook. Ces commentaires peuvent devenir tellement agressifs et négatifs que l’intimidation devient un problème à l’école. Ceci est si sérieux qu’il y a déjà des élèves qui se sont fait expulsé de leur école. Alors fait attention à ce que vous écrivez!

Le monde de la nouvelle communication est finalement arrivé. Nous devons apprendre à dompter cet animal afin que nous puissions l’utiliser pour créer un monde meilleur.

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U N E G AU F R E M AG N I F I Q U E

St. Matthew TEACHER: Kari Slattery SCHOOL:

Elementary Grades 5 and 6 Short Story

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Amy Campese UNIT: Halton Elementary UNIT PRESIDENT: Richard Brock by

J U L I A N A LO P R E S T I

J

e me trouve dans une usine de gaufres…c’est ici que mon histoire commence! Ma vie simple commence dans un bol de pâte à gaufre.

Deux œufs, de l’eau, de la farine, de la vanille…et voilà! Un mélange parfait pour être une gaufre d’Eggo!

Mercredi, le 16 février, 2011 Bonjour cher journal…

Je suis ici pour te parler de ma vie comme une gaufre glacée. C’est vrai, je suis une gaufre magnifique!

Je suis très contente d’être ici aujourd’hui. Hier, j’ai été sur une étagère avec tous les autres Eggos, les gaufres aux bleuets, à la cannelle, et aux framboises… et finalement, quelqu’un m’a acheté! C’est pour cette raison que je me trouve ici aujourd’hui.

Quelle surprise! Quelqu’un m’a acheté et m’a donné une belle maison dans un très grand congélateur! Je suis ici, très contente avec la crème glacée, les glaçons, les frites, des saucisses italiennes et des pois verts. On plaisante toujours que notre pièce est une vraie glacière!

Une belle journée… ou est-ce que je peux dire, une mauvaise journée. Ma vie a changé complètement! Tout à coup, le congélateur a ouvert et quelqu’un me cherchait dans ma boite d’Eggos. Toutes mes autres amies gaufres avaient peur aussi. Tout de suite, je sentais des mains chaudes qui me cherchaient dans la boîte. C’était fini. Ma vie comme une gaufre glacée était fini! Quel dommage!

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Jeudi, le 17 février, 2011 Bonjour cher journal…

Je suis ici aujourd’hui pour te parler de ma vie comme une gaufre grillée. C’est vrai. Cette journée tout a changé parce que quelqu’un m’a placé dans un grillepain électrique. Je me suis bronzée comme Snookie! J’ai entendu un « ding » et puis je me suis trouvé sur un plat avec des bleuets et du sirop d’érable. J’avais peur…j’avais vraiment peur!

Vendredi, le 18 février, 2011 Bonjour cher journal…

Je suis ici aujourd’hui pour te parler de ma vie comme une gaufre mastiquée!

C’est une autre mauvaise journée car je marche par le système digestif de quelqu’un. Quelle douleur… c’est humide et gluant… c’est mauvais et horrible!

Je n’aime pas l’odeur et toutes les autres nourritures autour de moi comme la pizza de samedi et le taco du diner d’hier soir! EWE! Samedi, le 19 février, 2011 Bonjour cher journal…

Je suis ici pour te parler de ma vie future… Je ne veux pas être une gaufre… J’ai appris la leçon de mes erreurs… J’ai décidé que pour ma prochaine vie, je veux être UNE CRÊPE!

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BEAUTÉ

Good Shepherd TEACHER: Ghislaine Trépanier SCHOOL:

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Christine Rochon UNIT: Ottawa UNIT PRESIDENT: Elaine McMahon by

Elementary Grades 5 and 6 Poem

DARBY KIRKHAM

Beauté est une chose naturelle, c’est un choix optionnel.

Avec des cheveux longs, ça tombe comme la pluie dans le ciel.

Beauté est ton choix de vêtements, les jeans ou une robe?

Avec une touche de soleil, tout ce que tu as besoin c’est de la personnalité.

Avec du vernis à ongles, de toutes les couleurs.

Tes ongles vont être magnifiques, et valoir comme un million de dollars.

Boucles!! boucles, les différentes boucles.

Les boucles d’oreilles, tu vas crier hourra.

La partie naturelle de la beauté, c’est ta peau qui est brillante dans la nuit.

La crème va toujours aider mais, avec la crème, le naturel va disparaître.

Beauté, beauté, beauté.

Quand je regarde dans le miroir, je veux chanter!!

Beauté, beauté, beauté!!!!

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LES FILMS

Good Shepherd TEACHER: Ghislaine Trépanier SCHOOL:

Elementary Grades 5 and 6 Nonfiction

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Christine Rochon UNIT: Ottawa UNIT PRESIDENT: Elaine McMahon by

M AT T H E W M C G U I R E

L

es personnes font les films depuis longtemps. Les vieux films étaient filmés par des caméras en noir et blanc. Les vieux films étaient courts et il n’y avait pas de son. Apres ça, il y a eu les films plus longs, avec un son plus clair et de la couleur. Aujourd’hui, on a des films à haute définition en trois dimensions.

Il y a beaucoup de différents types de films tels que: les films d’action, les westerns, les comédies, les films dramatiques, les films pour enfants et familles, les films d’aventures et d’autres.

Pour faire tous ces films, il y a des travaux différents effectués par des personnes.

Le plus important est le producteur exécutif qui achète tous les matériaux (les caméras, lumières, etc.) et qui emploie les services de toutes les autres personnes. Il ou elle est comme le patron. Il y a aussi des acteurs et des actrices qui jouent les personnages. Il y a des acteurs et actrices très populaires comme Leonardo DiCaprio, Sandra Bullock, Morgan Freeman et Angelina Jolie. Finalement, il y a le directeur qui aide les acteurs et les actrices et il décide ce que le film va devenir.

Les personnes qui sont très bonnes pour faire les films vont parfois gagner des Oscars. Un Oscar est un trophée que tu reçois pour avoir fait un très bon travail. Il y a beaucoup d’Oscars différents comme le meilleur acteur, la meilleure actrice et le meilleur film. Il y a presque 300 catégories au total.

Les films existent depuis très longtemps et il y a maintenant de la nouvelle technologie pour faire les films. Presque tout le monde aime les films ou a un film préféré.

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L E R O YA U M E D E S F É E S

St. Matthew TEACHER: Nadia Napoleone SCHOOL:

Elementary Grades 7 and 8 Short Story

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Amy Campese UNIT: Halton Elementary UNIT PRESIDENT: Richard Brock by

K R I S T Y N TA M A R R A H FA R R E L L

D

ans un château fait de glace, une jeune fée vole avec ses amies. Elle est très belle, avec des cheveux blonds qui flottent derrière elle. Ses yeux bleus sont intenses et semblent comme ils peuvent voir tous tes secrets. Elle s’appelle Marie. Marie et ses amies rient ensemble, volant dans l’air avec grâce. Leurs ailes brillent et reflètent la lumière.

Elles voient la reine, Isabelle, et s’arrêtent soudainement. Isabelle lance un regard furieux aux fées et dit, « Avez-vous du travail? » Les jeunes fées tremblent, effrayées par cette reine méchante. Sa voix est froide et sonne comme le métal grinçant sur le métal. Ça fait courir un frisson dans le dos de Marie. Elle n’aime pas cette nouvelle reine.

Une fois, le château de glace était magnifique, avec les grandes tours et tourelles de glace. Même sous les rayons de lumière du soleil, le château ne fondait pas. C’est le travail de la magie pour assurer que le château restait bien. Cependant, quand Isabelle est devenue la reine, toute la magie a disparu. Le château a commencé à fondre. Le royaume des fées est détruit… et c’est la faute d’Isabelle.

Les trois fées pensent qu’elle accumule la magie et la cache dans une cachette, puis l’utilise pour ses besoins personnels.

Marie, Sylvie, et Emilie s’échappent, volant rapidement. Alors qu’elles partent, Isabelle les regarde avec les yeux bridés. Elle sait qu’elles ont des doutes, et elle veut trouver une façon pour les arrêter… mais, dans quelle mesure va-t-elle le faire? ***

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Les fées avancent lentement, volant en bas, avec des regards anxieux sur leurs visages. Elles sont dans une place interdite dans le château, menées à cette place par leurs doutes. Peut-être qu’Isabelle ne laisse pas les fées y aller parce qu’elle ne veut pas qu’elles trouvent sa cachette avec toute la magie. Peut-être que la magie est cachée ici? Elles sont silencieuses; elles savent qu’il y a un danger d’être dans cette place. Si Isabelle les trouve, elle va les bannir de ce royaume. Elles ne peuvent pas se faire prendre en train d’explorer cette région du château sans permission. Elles cherchent les salles silencieusement. Elles ouvrent les portes et les ferment encore, essayant de cacher toutes traces de leurs recherches. Elles ont besoin des preuves avant qu’elles ne puissent accuser la reine d’avoir volé la magie, et elles doivent chercher les preuves.

Soudain, Marie a le souffle coupé. Sylvie et Emilie volent vers elle et voient qu’elle a trouvé… la magie! Les fées fêtent, mais ça ne dure qu’un instant. Isabelle apparait et crie, « Eh! Qu’est ce que vous faites là? Cette place est interdite aux fées! » Ses yeux s’élargissent quand elle voit que les fées ont trouvé la magie. Elle hurle au scandale, et ce bruit cause les autres fées de venir voir ce qui se passe.

Toutes les fées ont un choc quand elles voient la situation. Isabelle ne bouge pas pendant un moment et Marie transforme cette situation à son avantage. Pendant que la reine reste immobile, elle prend une poignée de la magie et la saupoudre sur Isabelle, en criant, « GELEZ-VOUS! » La reine arrête de bouger pendant que l’eau l’entoure jusqu’à ce qu’Isabelle est gelée dans une goutte d’eau qui rôde dans l’air.

Le regard d’horreur reste sur son visage, et sa bouche est ouverte et gelée en place.

Ses cheveux longs et noirs tombent en derrière et ses yeux bleus pénètrent la glace formée autour d’elle.

Toutes les fées fêtent et crient, « Marie, tu es héroïne! » Sylvie et Emilie prennent la couronne qui est tombée en bas quand Isabelle était gelée, et la mettent sur la tête de Marie. Marie sourit joyeusement et dit, « Nous allons commencer par reconstruire ce château! » Toutes les fées applaudissent la nouvelle reine du royaume.

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L A N U I T D ’ H A L LO W E E N

St. Joseph TEACHER: Nathalie McDermott SCHOOL:

Elementary Grades 7 and 8 Poem

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Tania Lamond UNIT: Peterborough, VNC UNIT PRESIDENT: Bart Scollard by

D A N I E L M . C R AW F O R D

Le jour du 31 octobre arrive.

Sur le mur, les monstres écrivent: « Venez les uns, venez tous car aujourd’hui est le jour où l’on peut marcher parmi les humains, c’est vrai. » Si tu les manques, il y a une année, Avant qu’on peut encore s’amuser.

Ne soyez pas lent, ne soyez pas en retard, Parce qu’aujourd’hui est le jour des cauchemars!

Les monstres, sorcières et les vampires, Loups-garous, ogres et les fantômes qui font rire « Venez les uns, Venez tous car c’est la nuit d’Halloween! »

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Q UA N D T U S E R AS P L U S ÂG É E

St. Joseph TEACHER: Angela Rzazewski SCHOOL:

Elementary Grades 7 and 8 Nonfiction

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Angela Rzazewski UNIT: Halton Elementary UNIT PRESIDENT: Richard Brock by

VA N E S S A S I L A N O

T

u pourras aller au cinéma, toute seule, quand tu seras plus âgée. Tu pourras conduire une auto-quand tu seras plus âgée. Mais Maman!

Pourquoi est-ce que je suis trop petite pour faire beaucoup de choses?!

Quelques fois les jeunes de mon âge peuvent se sentir trop petits ou pas assez matures pour profiter de soi-même.

Par exemple, au parc d’attractions, tu veux monter dans les plus grands manèges et tu cours pour faire la queue. Tu ne peux pas attendre le frisson!

Finalement, c’est ton tour de monter les plus grandes montagnes russes, mais l’employé se penche pour te regarder dans les yeux et il te dit: « Désolé ma petite, mais TU ES TROP JEUNE pour monter dans ce manège. Pas d’entrée. Mais tu peux monter dans ce manège-là. » C’est très énervant de toujours être refusé et on souhaite de pouvoir grandir trois centimètres au moment où l’on a besoin! Je me suis sentie comme ça beaucoup de fois, particulièrement en été. Avec mes amis, on allait faire de la natation, mais toujours dans la piscine des petits. Entrée interdite dans la grande piscine avec la glissade d’eau et aussi dans la piscine à vagues. Tu es presque dans l’eau quand le sifflet du surveillant de la baignade est soufflé dans ton oreille. « Attention! Les petits ne sont pas permis d’aller dans cette piscine! » Quelle honte! Maintenant tout le monde te voit avec tes floaties quand tu retournes encore une fois dans la petite piscine. Pourquoi est-ce que je suis toujours interdite de m’amuser?

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Il y a beaucoup de choses qui sont considérées des grandes étapes dans la vie.

Quand tu obtiens ton diplôme d’études secondaires, quand tu as ton permis de conduire, et quand tu as un travail que tu aimes beaucoup. La grande question dans ma tête est « quand? » et QUAND?! Je me suis toujours demandé pourquoi les choses les plus merveilleuses doivent être loin de l’enfance et dans la vie d’adulte.

Peut-être parce que les personnes qui font les lois ne veulent pas l’amusement, ou même la liberté pour les très jeunes? Ma mère me dit toujours que toutes les choses dans la vie sont faites pour une raison. Si je fais tout ce que je désire dans la vie étant jeune, le reste de ma vie va être très ennuyeux et détendu. Je pense que dans l’avenir, je vais réaliser tout ce que je désire accomplir, mais je dois prendre le temps de m’amuser maintenant d’une manière qui est de mon âge. Dans l’intervalle, personne ne dit que je ne peux pas rêver….

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J AC Q U E S E T S O N GRAND CADEAU

St. Robert TEACHER: Nancy Torresan SCHOOL:

Secondary Grades 9 and 10 Short Story

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Denis Zmak UNIT: York UNIT PRESIDENT: Liz Stuart by

M A R A N AVA - B E L LO

J

acques regardait attentivement sa mère et son père qui parlaient à voix basse. La maison était toute silencieuse à l’exception de leurs murmures.

Ils ont l’air inquiété, pensait-il, mais c’était toujours comme ça. Bien que Jacques avait seulement huit ans, il pouvait comprendre qu’il y avait un problème grave. Sa mère était constamment triste et c’était pourquoi il devait aller chez son grand-père après l’école avec elle. C’est toujours la même histoire, pensait Jacques, ma mère me dit que je dois lui rendre visite, mais je ne comprends pas pourquoi.

Jacques y restait pendant les soirs jusqu'à 20 heures, et puis, il retourne chez lui pour s’endormir.

Lundi, le petit Jacques est arrivé tard à cause de sa leçon de natation. Il a couru vite à la chambre de son grand-père, mais à sa grande surprise, il a vu sa mère en larmes. Son père y était aussi et son grand-père avait l’air si triste. Il s’est demandé ce qui s’était passé, mais il n’a rien dit pour éviter d’attirer d’attention. Après quelques minutes d’observer sa mère, Jacques lui a dit avec une petite voix, « Maman, je suis arrivé, pourquoi pleures-tu? » Sa mère a arrêté de pleurer et avec une gentille expression, lui a répondu, « Mon petit, c’est ton grand-père, il est très malade. » Jacques était silencieux pour quelques minutes et il a demandé, « Mais, c’est impossible! Maman, tu as tort. Il est très fort! » Le père de Jacques, voyait que Jacques ne comprenait pas ce que sa mère lui avait essayé de dire. Donc, il a dit à son fils avec un ton sérieux « Jacques, viens ici,

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je dois t’expliquer quelque chose important. Nous devons parler à propos du cycle de la vie, ça veut dire, de la vie et de la mort. » Jacques pensait que son père exagérait; il ne comprenait pas pourquoi ils devaient en parler à ce moment-là. Le père de Jacques a quitté la chambre et il s’est assis dans une chaise. Jacques a suivi son père et l’a écouté avec l’intérêt. « Jacques, la vie est un beau cadeau. On est né, puis on grandit et on apprend plusieurs choses, et finalement quand on est vieux, on doit mourir. Mais ce cycle, Jacques, est tellement beau parce que nous croyons qu’après la mort, on fait un voyage extraordinaire-on va au ciel avec Dieu. » Jacques ne savait pas comment réagir.

Mais il s’est soudain rendu compte que son père parlait à propos de son grand-père! « Alors » a demandé Jacques, « Pépé, il va mourir et il va aller au ciel? » Son père a fait un signe de tête et Jacques a enfin compris que sa famille était triste à cause de son grand-père. Surtout sa mère, pensait-il, il va lui manquer beaucoup…Mais, Jacques n’était pas très triste. Oui, il aimait son grand-père, mais il ne le connaissait pas très bien. Il ne parlait pas souvent avec lui, alors il ne connaissait pas les choses qu’il aimait, ou comment il se sentait. « D’accord Papa, je comprends. Puis-je parler avec mon Pépé? » il a dit.

Jacques est rentré dans la chambre de son grand-père. Il voyait que sa mère pleurait encore et il lui a dit de ne pas se faire de soucis et que tout allait être bien.

Jacques s’est assis sur le lit de son pépé, jusqu’à côté de lui. Son grand-père avait l’air fragile; il était vraiment faible. Cependant, il a souri à son petit-fils avec des yeux brillants. Ils ont parlé de Jacques et de sa vie, par exemple de ses amis et de l’école. En échange, Jacques lui a demandé à propos de sa vie quand il était jeune.

Jacques a découvert qu’ils partageaient les mêmes intérêts. Les deux aimaient les reptiles comme les serpents, ils aimaient manger du chocolat et de la crème glacée, et ils détestaient se lever tôt. Ils aimaient faire la grasse matinée! Mais le fait le plus intéressant c’était que les deux adoraient faire de la natation! Quand son grandpère était jeune, il nageait chaque jour après l’école comme s’il était un poisson! Il a gagné un grand nombre de concours de natation, et il avait beaucoup de trophées. « C’était merveilleux! » pensait Jacques, « Je n’ai jamais pensé que mon pépé et moi, nous nous ressemblions! » Ils ont continué à parler jusqu'à ce que la mère de Jacques ait dit que c’était l’heure de se coucher. « Pas vrai! » s’est exclamé Jacques, « Nous avons parlé pendant toute la soirée? » Il a été très surpris qu’il avait passé un peu plus de trois heures en conversation avec son grand-père! Il était content d’avoir appris des choses nouvelles de lui. Donc, il a décidé qu’à partir de ce moment-là, il lui rendrait visite chaque jour pour parler plus de leurs vies et

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surtout de la natation. Jacques pensait que c’était la meilleure idée qu’il n’avait jamais proposée!

Les jours sont passés et puis des semaines et comme Jacques avait promis, il rendait visite très souvent à son pépé. Il a appris beaucoup à propos de lui pendant trois semaines, et Jacques regrettait qu’il ne l’avait pas vraiment connu plus tôt. Il savait que d’un moment à l’autre son grand-père pouvait faire le voyage au ciel pour toujours, ça voulait dire mourir. De toute façon, Jacques parlait avec lui comme s’il n’avait pas de maladie. Il lui a parlé d’une compétition de natation où il allait participer dans quelques jours. Son grand-père l’a encouragé et lui a donné des conseils pour la compétition (parce qu’il avait de l’expérience). Les deux débordaient de bonheur et ils étaient surexcités! Mais malheureusement le grandpère du petit devenait un peu plus malade chaque jour… Mais il essayait d’être fort pour son petit-fils. Il savait que Jacques avait peur de sa compétition et qu’il avait besoin de soutien. Il était fier de Jacques et il savait qu’il pouvait gagner parce qu’il était bien formé et qu’il était prêt pour la compétition le dimanche suivant.

Jacques savait qu’il devait avoir du cœur au ventre, et quand le jour de son épreuve de natation est arrivé, il a donné le meilleur de lui-même pour satisfaire son pépé. Quand le cours a été fini, les résultats ont étés affichés, et Jacques était très nerveux de les voir. Quand il les a vus, il a sauté de joie! « C’est le meilleur jour de ma vie! » a crié Jacques, « Et c’est grâce à mon pépé. Je dois le remercier! J’irai lui donner mes nouvelles extraordinaires! » Jacques a couru très vite chez son grand-père; il était fou de joie. Il est entré dans sa chambre et il a vu que son grandpère dormait. Il a décidé de le réveiller avec précaution. Son grand-père s’est réveillé et il était content de voir Jacques. Jacques lui a dit qu’il avait gagné la compétition et il lui a montré la médaille d’or qu’il avait reçue. À ce moment-là, son grand-père lui a donné un sourire plus brillant que le soleil. Les deux se sont embrassés et Jacques a enfin compris l’amour profond qu’il avait pour son pépé. Mais son grand-père avait l’air fatigué alors Jacques l’a aidé à se coucher confortablement. Après, il a chuchoté « Mon petit, je suis désolé mais je suis fatigué. Je t’aime… merci pour ton grand cadeau. » Il a fermé les yeux et avec un autre gentil sourire, il s’est endormi. Jacques savait que son grand-père était en train de faire son voyage au ciel et avec une petite larme Jacques lui a répondu, « Pépé, tu es mon grand cadeau, et je t’aime beaucoup. »

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PUNITION

St. Charles College TEACHER: Colette Fraser

SCHOOL:

Secondary Grades 9 and 10 Poem

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Allison Dufour UNIT: Sudbury Secondary UNIT PRESIDENT: Dan Charbonneau by

A N D R E A B AT T I S T U Z Z I

J’ai brisé la fenêtre J’ai brisé les rideaux J’ai même frappé ma tête Sur le coin du gros tableau Elle retournera bientôt Pour voir le gros dégât Elle retournera bientôt Pour me donner une punition Je m’assiérai dans le coin Je m’assiérai dehors J’irai dans ma cage Un pauvre seul Labrador

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Mais j’ai eu une idée!

Peut-être je le blâmerai sur le chat Le rat, le gars, pas moi!

Elle me croira cette fois J’agirai comme un ange Endormis sur l’oreiller Elle pensera que ce n’est pas étrange Elle ne voudra pas me réveiller Ah non! C’est la porte Ma maitresse est arrivée « EEEEEEEEEEEEEE! » Zut! Elle est déjà aggravée!

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ODETTE

St. Theresa of Lisieux TEACHER: Claudia Sabatini

SCHOOL:

Secondary Grades 9 and 10 Play

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Greg Bolton UNIT: York UNIT PRESIDENT: Liz Stuart by

RHEA SZARICS

(Les rideaux ouvrent. Claudine et Grand-mère asseyent sur les chaises dans une vieille maison à Pointe-Fortune, Québec. Odette est aussi dans la salle.)

Grand-mère:

Claudine, peux-tu me donner du café? Je sais qu’Odette ne respecte rien sa famille, donc elle refusera de faire une petite chose pour moi.

Odette:

S’il vous plait, Grand-mère! Vous savez que je cherche du café maintenant!

Claudine:

Je suis incertaine. Si tu pouvais nier Jeannine sa vie, je pense que tu ne trouves pas difficile le fait de nier ma mère une tasse de café!

Odette:

Tante Claudine, je-

Claudine:

Tout le monde sait que c’est ta faute que Jeannine est morte, et la seule chose que je peux dire à toi, c’est que j’espère que tu vives en regret!

(Sortent: Claudine et Grand-mère. Odette marche au centre de l’estrade.)

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Odette:

Ne me jugez pas, s’il vous plait. Entendez du moins mon histoire. Tout commençait quand mes parents étaient jeunes enfants qui grandissaient dans un petit village qui s’appelait Pointe-Fortune. Ma mère, Aline, était une fille géniale et compétitive. Elle gagnait tous les concours de cuisine et les concours d’orthographe quand elle était jeune, et toutes les bourses imaginables quand elle était plus âgée. Elle avait toujours les meilleures notes dans ses cours.

Mon père, Jérôme, était exactement la même. Il voulait toujours être le meilleur. Alors, quand ils se mariaient, ils voulaient la même sorte d’enfant.

(Sort: Odette. Entrent: Aline et Jérôme.)

Aline:

Elle sera la plus intelligente dans sa classe. Elle gagnera tous les concours d’art, des études, et de la musique!

Jérôme:

Je peux déjà imaginer les gros titres: « La fille de Jérôme et Aline Niveau est un prodige. »

Aline:

Nous devrons déménager à une ville plus grande, comme Montréal, pour lui donner plus d’opportunités.

Jérôme:

Bonne idée, mais je suis certaine que notre fille sera parfaite, même si elle grandira à Pointe-Fortune.

(Sortent: Aline et Jérôme. Entre: Odette.)

Odette:

Alors, avec grande joie, mes parents ont attendu ma naissance.

Ils ont déménagé à Montréal, ils ont acheté une maison plus grande et ils ont préparé ma chambre et mes jouets. Aussi, ils ont planifié mon futur. Ils m’ont engagé dans les meilleures écoles, leçons, et cours, avant ma naissance. J’ai passé les premiers quatre ans de ma vie me complaire dans l’affection de mes parents. C’était seulement quand je suis entré dans le jardin d’enfants que mes parents se rendaient compte que je n’étais pas « parfaite » comme ils ont pensé.

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(Sort: Odette. Entrent: Aline, Jérôme, Dr. Deschamps. Ils sont dans un bureau de psychologue.)

Aline:

Je sais que c’est passer finalement! Dites-moi, Docteur Deschamps, est-ce que notre fille aura amélioré en deux ou trois années?

Jérôme:

Devons-nous engager Odette dans une école spéciale?

Dr. Deschamps:

Je regrette, mais votre fille a une maladie mentale, qui s’appelle la dysgraphie. Odette va pouvoir lire, danser, faire de la musique, jouer des sports et faire beaucoup d’autres choses, mais elle va trouver l’écriture et créer des graphiques très difficiles. C’est possible qu’Odette ne va pas apprendre à écrire.

Aline:

Ce n’est pas possible!

Jérôme:

N’aie pas peur, ma chérie, nous allons amener Odette à un spécialiste!

(Sortent: Aline, Jérôme, et finalement, Dr. Deschamps. Entre: Odette) Odette:

Mes parents ont passé les deux ou trois mois suivants en m’apportant d’une psychologue à une autre. Finalement, quand ma dysgraphie était confirmée par une psychologue Allemande, mes parents m’ont abandonné complètement.

Après qu’ils se sont rendu compte que je n’étais pas tellement parfaite comme ils ont pensé dans le passé, je suis devenue, au lieu d’être l’ange de mes parents, leur fardeau personnel.

(Sort: Odette. Entrent: Aline et l’enfant Odette. Ils sont dans leur maison à Montréal.)

L’enfant Odette:

Maman, pourquoi tu ne joues pas avec moi?

Aline:

Tu ne peux pas voir que je suis fatiguée et occupée?

Vas dans ta chambre et fiche-moi la paix!

(Sortent: Aline, l’enfant Odette. Entre: Odette.)

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Odette:

La seule bonne chose qui a passé à cause de cette épreuve était le ballet. Mes parents m’ont engagé dans des classes de ballet, toutes les excuses écartées, pour m’occuper, de façon à ce que je ne pouvais pas leur irriter. Ils n’avaient pas d’idée qu’ils me présentaient à ma passion. Chaque vendredi, je marchais deux rues de ma maison à l’école du ballet. C’était probablement bizarre pour les passants de voir une jeune fille qui marchait toute seule dans la rue, mais mes parents ne me payaient pas d’attention et je ne faisais pas ce que tout le monde pensait.

L’école du ballet était la seule place où ma dysgraphie n’était pas importante. Donc je marchais presque tous les jours à ma classe de ballet par le temps que j’avais sept ans. Quand j’avais cet âge, mes classes de ballet n’étaient pas la seule chose qui changeait, mais c’était où les changements ont commencé.

(Sort: Odette. Entrent: Mme. Savard, l’enfant Odette.)

Mme. Savard:

Avant que tu partes, Odette, je veux te parler.

L’enfant Odette:

Oui, Madame Savard.

Mme. Savard:

Je sais que tu es une danseuse fantastique.

L’enfant Odette:

Suis-je?

Mme. Savard:

Oui, et je pense que tu es ainsi douée que tu pourras auditionner pour l’école du Ballet Nationale du Canada.

L’enfant Odette:

Puis-je? C’est le rêve de ma vie!

Mme. Savard:

Je suis heureuse que tu sois tellement enthousiaste, mais il y a une ou deux choses que je dois discuter avec tes parents.

Est-ce que tes parents aiment le ballet, Odette?

L’enfant Odette:

Pas du tout. Ils ne respectent pas la danse ni les sports.

Mme. Savard:

C’est vrai? Je ne savais pas… C’est tout, Odette. Tu peux partir. Nous nous rencontrerons demain.

L’enfant Odette:

Au revoir, Madame Savard, et merci beaucoup.

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(Sortent: Mme. Savard et l’enfant Odette. Entre: Odette.)

Odette:

Heureusement, mes parents m’ont permis à auditionner pour l’école du Ballet Nationale du Canada. Ce pouvait-être parce que je devrais habiter à Toronto, à l’école, si j’étais admis dans l’école. Je ne sais pas. Mon enthousiasme était découragé par une chose: je pouvais auditionner pour l’école célèbre seulement après l’âge de dix ans. Je pratiquais le ballet plus fort qu’avant, et j’attendais avec impatience pour mon dixième anniversaire. Il semblait que mon rêve de vie deviendrait une réalité, mais je me trompais.

(Sort: Odette. Entrent: Aline et Jérôme. Ils sont dans le salon de la maison.)

Aline:

Je sais que c’est finalement passer.

Jérôme:

Est-ce que tu es certaine?

Aline:

Oui, ça sera une autre fille.

Jérôme:

La seule chose que nous pouvons faire maintenant est attendre.

(Sortent: Aline et Jérôme. Entre: Odette.)

Odette:

Cette fois, mes parents attendaient le nouveau membre de la famille avec beaucoup d’inquiétude, au lieu d’excitation. Ils avaient peur que leur deuxième fille serait une déception comme la première… moi. Ils ne devaient pas avoir peur.

Jeannine était un prodige, un génie binaire- la fille parfaite que je n’étais pas. De l’instant que son génie à été découvert, du point de vue de mes parents, je cessais d’être leur fardeauje devenais inexistante. Jeannine est devenue le centre de l’univers de mes parents, un univers qui n’avait pas de place pour moi. Il était inévitable que mon rêve devienne remplacé avec les rêves de ma sœur quand j’avais dix ans.

(Sort: Odette. Entrent: L’enfant Odette, Aline.)

L’enfant Odette:

Pourrai-je auditionner pour l’école Nationale de Ballet du Canada, s’il vous plait?

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Aline:

N’est-ce pas suffisant que je te permette de continuer tes classes de ballet? Quoi d’autre veux-tu? Non, tu ne pourras pas auditionner pour cette école, et c’est la fin de cette discussion!

L’enfant Odette:

Mais pourquoi?

Aline:

C’est difficile à expliquer. Ton père et moi, nous essayons de donner à Jeannine toutes les opportunités possibles. Elle a beaucoup de potentiel. Maintenant, Odette, ton ballet... ça sert seulement de limiter la capacité de ta sœur. Pardons-moi, Odette.

L’enfant Odette:

La seule chose pour laquelle tu es désolée c’est le fait de ma naissance!

(Sortent: L’enfant Odette, et après une pause, Aline. Entre: Odette.)

Odette:

Malheureusement pour Jeannine, Aline et Jérôme assuraient que Jeannine pensait qu’elle était supérieure aux autres personnes qui n’avaient pas son intelligence et brillance.

Jeannine était élevé à apprécier l’intelligence, le succès, et la perfection, et par suite, elle rejetait toutes les personnes qui n’avaient pas ces qualités. Cependant, Jeannine possédait une gentillesse naturelle, et quoiqu’elle m’ignorait habituellement, elle ne partageait pas le mépris de mes parents pour moi.

Génie binaire ou non, Jeannine possédait une faute grave.

Elle faisait toutes les choses qu’elle aimait et elle recevait toutes les choses qu’elle voulait, et par suite, elle était contente de vivre avec ses faux idéals que mes parents lui enseignaient. Elle ne voulait pas changer, mais encore, quatre ans plus tard, tout a changé.

(Sort: Odette. Entrent: Aline et Jeannine.)

Aline:

Jeannine, tu es fantastique! Tu as gagné ce concours de mathématiques sans difficulté.

Jeannine:

Je sais, et j’étais la plus jeune dans le groupe d’élèves entière.

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Aline:

Jeannine, es-tu certaine que tu vas bien? Tu sembles pâle.

Jeannine:

Oui, ma tête fait tellement mal.

Aline:

C’est probablement le rhume. Vas au lit, et je t’apporterai une tasse de thé dans une minute.

(Sortent: Aline et Jeannine. Entre: Odette.)

Odette:

C’était seulement quand Jeannine a commençait à défaillirquand des fièvres devenaient une partie habituelle de sa vie, quand elle vomissait fréquemment et quand elle était ainsi fatiguée qu’elle ne pourrait pas se lever dans le matin-que Jérôme et Aline l’a apporté au docteur.

(Sort: Odette. Entrent: Dr. Natanael, Aline, et Jérôme. Ils sont dans un hôpital.)

Jérôme:

La leucémie? C’est impossible.

Dr. Natanael:

Ce ne peut pas être une autre maladie.

Aline:

Peut Jeannine… est-ce que la leucémie est une maladie mortelle?

Dr. Natanael:

Il y a une possibilité, mais car Jeannine est dans un stade premier, il y a une meilleure chance que nous pourrons traiter sa leucémie.

Aline:

Il y a une chance que Jeannine vivra?

Dr. Natanael:

C’est vrai. Jeannine pourra être guéri, mais elle devra subir un traitement, qui s’appelle une transplantation des cellules souches et la chimiothérapie. Le traitement a des effets secondaires. Elle perdra ses cheveux, elle aura des maux de tête, elle sera très fatiguée et faible. Aussi elle aura la diarrhée et des maux d’estomac. Il y a plus d’effets secondaires que nous pouvons discuter quand nous trouverons un donneur pour les cellules souches.

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Jérôme:

Pourra le traitement abîmer la santé mentale de notre fille?

Dr. Natanael:

Pas du tout.

Aline:

C’est un soulagement.

Dr. Natanael:

Mais… il y a un problème plus grand. Si la transplantation des cellules souches réussirait, Jeannine pourra souffrir d’une autre maladie. Quelque fois, les globules blancs dans la greffe des cellules souches, qui sont donné par une autre personne, réagissent contre les tissus normaux dans la moelle osseuse du patient. Cette maladie, qui s’appelle la maladie du greffon contre l’hôte, peut être fatale. Mais c’est très, très rare.

Aline:

Qui peut être le donneur?

Dr. Natanael:

Dans son cas, une sœur ou un frère. Jeannine a une sœur ou un frère?

Aline:

Oui. Elle a une sœur.

Dr. Natanael:

C’est bien. Pourriez-vous l’amener demain? Je devrais faire des analyses de sang pour elle, car nous devrons être sur que les cellules de Jeannine correspondent avec les cellules de sa sœur. Voici un formulaire que la sœur devrait signer.

Jérôme:

Nous y apporterons Odette demain. Merci et au revoir, docteur.

(Sortent: Aline, Jérôme, et Dr. Natanael. Entre: Odette.)

Odette:

Pour la première fois de ma vie, c’était Aline qui m’implorait, pas le contraire, mais même si ma mère ne m’aurait pas demandé d’être la donneuse de Jeannine, je ferais cette tâche quand même. Elle aurait le potentiel sans limites… si elle recouvrait.

(Entre: Aline.)

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Odette:

Où est le formulaire que je dois signer?

Aline:

C’est ici. (Odette signe le formulaire) Je pensais que la psychologue disait que tu ne pourrais pas apprendre l’écriture.

Odette:

Avec beaucoup de travail, tout est possible, mais je ne peux pas écrire très bien. C’est comme chaque mot est un cassetête et j’ai besoin de temps pour le résoudre.

Aline:

Oh.

Odette:

J’ai une question. Si j’avais la leucémie, implorerais-tu Jeannine à être ma donneuse? Tu peux être honnête, je ne te jurerai pas.

Aline:

C’est…je ne…Non. Pardon.

(Sort: Aline. Odette marche au centre de l’estrade.)

Odette:

J’ai subi beaucoup d’analyses, aussi que Jeannine. Finalement, les docteurs sont arrivés à la conclusion que les tissus de ma moelle osseuse correspondaient avec ceux de Jeannine exactement. Tout le monde était heureux et soulagé, Jeannine avait de l’espoir. Tout après c’était peu clair. Il y avait plus d’analyses, des seringues, plus de chambres blanches d’hôpital. Ce n’était pas douloureux, seulement déroutant.

Une chose que je souvenais avec beaucoup de clarté était ma conversation, seulement une heure avant la transplantation.

(Entre: Jeannine, sur un lit d’hôpital.)

Jeannine:

Bonjour Odette.

Odette:

Salut. Ça va?

Jeannine:

Ça va mal. Je suis tellement fatiguée. Je suis comme ça toujours. Les docteurs me donnent des seringues tout le temps et c’est très douloureux!

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Odette:

Je suis désolée, mais j’espère que tu vas retrouver ta bonne santé dans le futur proche.

Jeannine:

Odette?

Odette:

Oui?

Jeannine:

Pourquoi je ne te vois jamais? Pourquoi Maman et Papa ne parlent jamais de toi? Pourquoi tu n’étais pas présente quand j’avais un anniversaire, ou quand je gagnais un concours?

Pourquoi?

Odette:

Je ne sais pas exactement, mais je pensais qu’Aline et Jérôme pensent que je suis une influence négative.

Jeannine:

Es-tu une influence négative?

Odette:

Je ne sais pas.

Jeannine:

Je ne pense pas que tu es.

Odette:

Merci, Jeannine. Merci beaucoup.

(Sort: Jeannine.)

Odette:

Jeannine était une personne phénoménale. Sa brillance, gentillesse et sa perspicace était incomparable, mais malheureusement, ses bonnes qualités ne pouvaient pas lui aider quand elle avait besoin le plus.

(Sort: Odette. Entrent: Aline, Jérôme, et Dr. Natanael.)

Dr. Natanael:

Monsieur et Madame Niveau, un évènement horrible c’est passé. Il y a une chose erronée avec les tissus de moelle osseuse d’Odette. Pour une raison qui n’est pas déterminé, les tissus d’Odette ne correspondaient pas avec les tissus de Jeannine, et maintenant, Jeannine a la maladie qui s’appelle greffon contre l’hôte.

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Aline:

Non! La maladie est très grave?

Dr. Natanael:

Je n’ai pas de raison de cacher la vérité. Jeannine a la maladie dans une forme très rare, mais très grave.

Jérôme:

Peut-elle… mourir?

Dr. Natanael:

Je suis désolé, mais Jeannine n’a presque aucune chance de survivre.

Aline:

Non! Ce n’est pas possible. Pourquoi Jeannine? Elle était…

Jérôme:

…tellement parfaite.

(Sortent: Jérôme, Aline, et Dr. Natanael. Entre: Odette.)

Odette:

Ma belle sœur, Jeannine, est morte un mois avant son neuvième anniversaire. Mes parents pensaient que j’étais la cause de la mort terrible de leur fille. N’est ce pas mes tissus de moelle osseuse qui ont failli? Jérôme et Aline m’ont déporté à Pointe-Fortune pour habiter chez ma grand-mère et ma tante. Dans une façon tordue, ils vengeaient la mort de Jeannine. Je n’attribuais pas de responsabilité à mes parents.

Peut-être je ferais les mêmes choses, si j’étais à leur place. Je n’imaginais pas à prononcer les docteurs, les chirurgiens, ou même Jeannine coupable. Suis-je coupable? À mon avis, la mort de Jeannine était un accident terrible, et il n’y a personne qui peut assumer la responsabilité. Ainsi, je suis innocente. J’ai la dysgraphie et je ne suis pas brillante, mais je ne suis pas mieux ou pire que Jeannine. Nous ne sommes pas pareils, mais nous sommes vraiment des égales. Nieriez-vous la vie d’une personne qui est votre égal? Je sais que je ne ferai ça jamais. C’est comme nier ma propre vie.

(Sort: Odette. Les rideaux ferment.)

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INÉDIT: CHAPITRE XXII DU LIVRE « LE PETIT PRINCE »

Regiopolis-Notre Dame TEACHER: Martine Tremblay SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE: Will Geris UNIT: Algonquin-Lakeshore UNIT PRESIDENT: Tom Doyle

SCHOOL:

by

Secondary Grades 9 and 10 Nonfiction

J U L I E A L E X A N D R A B AT E S

-Bonjour, dit le petit prince au milieu du brouhaha général.

Personne ne lui répondit. Le petit prince, après sa rencontre avec le renard, avait continué son petit bout de chemin dans le désert. Il avait alors aperçu une énorme et sombre bâtisse où se trouvaient des centaines de personnes. Le petit prince, n’étant point bête, avait vite découvert que c’était une école.

-Bonjour, redit le petit prince, espérant recevoir une réponse.

Encore une fois, personne ne le remarqua. Devant lui, une foule d’élèves passait. Ils parlaient tous très fort et ne se préoccupaient pas de ce qui se passait autour d’eux. « Décidément, ces personnes parlent et parlent, mais ils ne prennent même pas la peine de s’écouter les uns les autres, que c’est égoïste, » pensa le petit prince en lui-même.

Soudain, il aperçu une fille. Tout de suite, il remarqua qu’elle était différente et qu’elle n’était pas comme les autres. Le petit prince ne savait pas si c’était à cause de ses grosses lunettes rondes, de sa grosse touffe de cheveux crollés, de sa petite taille ou de ses yeux qui avaient l’air remplis de larmes.

-Bonjour, fit une nouvelle fois le petit prince car il s’était rendu compte que cette fille assez étrange l’avait remarqué.

-Je te souhaite bonjour à toi, mais ce n’est jamais un bon jour pour moi, donc ne me dis pas bonjour, s’il te plait, lui répondit la jeune fille d’une voix éraillée.

-Pourquoi cela? demanda le petit prince, curieux de savoir pourquoi une personne ne pouvait pas être heureuse dans un monde qui recèle mille et une merveilles.

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-Tu me demandes pourquoi? Je ne vais pas te le dire car tu comprendras d’ici quelques secondes, répliqua la fille à lunettes, en regardant autour d’elle.

-Pourquoi? demanda le petit prince, qui tout le monde le sait bien, ne renonçait jamais à sa question l’orsqu’il l’avait posée.

Mais, il ne dut pas attendre bien longtemps car voila qu’un groupe de jeunes adolescents s’amena en parlant et chuchotant tout bas et en pointant du doigt la fille à qui le petit prince avait parlé.

-Salut toi, petite brunette à lunettes, fille sans cœur et chouchou du professeur, lança méchamment une fille blonde à la silhouette élancée.

-Ne me dis pas qu’elle a encore pleuré cette matin en se regardant dans le miroir et en redécouvrant qu’elle était laide, dit une autre fille d’une voix faussement mielleuse, déclenchant l’hilarité générale.

Le petit prince ne trouvait pas cela drôle. Toutes ces méchancetés le blessaient autant que cela blessait la jeune fille à qui ces mots étaient adressés. « Comment peuvent-ils dire des choses pareilles? Cela me donne envie de pleurer, » pensa le petit prince.

Pendant ce temps, la fille gardait les yeux baissés et ne faisait aucun mouvement pour protester. Des larmes silencieuses coulaient sur des joues joufflues. Le petit prince en eut assez et décida que cela avait assez duré.

-Pourquoi dites-vous ça? N’avez-vous pas de cœur? Ne vous rendez-vous pas compte que vous lui faites de la peine? lança le petit prince en direction du groupe. Sa faible mais douce voix s’élevait gravement dans le couloir où tout le monde s’était tout d’un coup.

-Pourquoi agissez-vous comme ca? Qu’est-ce qu’elle a fait pour mériter votre méchanceté? continua le petit prince, impitoyable dans son sens de la justice.

Le groupe de jeunes ne savait que faire. Ils se regardaient tous, honteux, comme pris sur le fait. D’un commun accord, ils décidèrent de s’éclipser rapidement sans demander leur reste.

-Les voilà qui partent, trop embarrassées et honteux d’affronter la vérité en face.

Les adolescents sont comme des enfants, ils ont peur de la vérité car elle est vraie et les blesse. Ils font la sourde oreille quand on les critique et les conseille.

-C’est vrai que personne n’aime admettre qu’il a tort, ajouta la fille aux cheveux frisés qui avait écouté le petit prince. Ses yeux avaient perdu de leur humidité et brillait d’admiration pour le petit prince.

-Tout le monde veut avoir raison et pense avoir raison, quoi que les autres en disent. Si les adultes écoutaient les autres plutôt que leur cœur orgueilleux, de nombreux problèmes se trouveraient ainsi réglés, continua le petit prince, avec son petit air de sagesse qu’on lui connaissait si bien.

La fille hocha de la tête et médita sur ces paroles.

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-D’où viens-tu? Tu sembles bien sage pour un si petit bonhomme, lui demanda soudainement l’adolescente.

-Pourquoi te traitaient-ils comme ca? interrogea le petit prince, fidele à sa nature de répondre à une question par une autre.

-Oh, tu sais, ils ne m’aiment pas. Je ne sais pas pourquoi parce que je ne les dérange jamais. Je suis presque invisible dans mon coin avec mes livres et mes cahiers, expliqua la fille, retrouvant son air triste du début.

-Si j’avais le temps, je t’apprivoiserais tu sais, et toi et moi serions de bon amis, mais je n’ai guère le temps et je ne peux pas m’attarder longtemps ici. Ma fleur m’attend et je dois la retrouver, tu sais, dit le petit prince sous le regard interrogateur de la fille qui ne comprenait pas où il voulait en venir avec son terme apprivoiser.

-Si cela peut te consoler, j’ai autre chose à te dire. Je te promets qu’un jour tu trouveras un ami. Ouvre les yeux, il ne faut pas chercher bien loin pour trouver quelqu’un qui t’apprécie et t’accepte comme tu es. Je te promets que tu trouveras ton âme sœur. Tout le monde la trouve un jour ou l’autre et parfois, c’est assez inattendu, comme ma fleur, par exemple…, poursuivit le petit prince qui se prit un instant à penser à sa planète et à sa pauvre rose, toute seule.

-J’imagine que tu as raison, mais j’attends toujours. Cela ne me dérange pas d’être toute seule, j’aime quand même bien la solitude, mais je n’aime pas que les autres me voient toute seule, lui confia la fille.

-Pourtant, la solitude est notre meilleure amie car elle ne nous juge pas, mais c’est vrai qu’elle n’apaise pas le cœur qui a besoin d’être réconforté.

-J’aimerais être comme toi, petit bonhomme, avoua la fille a lunettes, mais je suis si différente des autres, j’en ai bien peur, que jamais je ne me ferai un ami.

-Crois en toi et tu verras que la vie est rarement injuste bien longtemps, énonça le petit prince comme une parabole, méditée depuis des siècles. Tiens, regarde, on dirait qu’il y a une fille, là-bas, qui a aussi l’air toute seule. Fais le premier pas et va la voir!

La fille délaissa le petit prince, non sans l’avoir remercié trente-six mille fois, et elle s’en alla vers cette fille, sa tignasse brune flottant derrière elle.

Le petit prince soupira un peu, mais sourit en voyant les deux filles marcher et rire main dans la main, peu de temps après. « Ah, si la vie pouvait être toujours aussi belle et pas si compliquée, je serai déjà avec ma rose. Les grandes personnes compliquent toujours les choses, pourtant si simples! » pensa le petit prince avant de quitter cette école du désert.

The author created her own chapter for Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s Le petit prince.

Copyright 1943 by Harcourt, Inc.

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LETTRE D’UNE AMIE INQUIÉTÉE

St. Robert TEACHER: Nancy Torresan SCHOOL:

Secondary Grades 11 and 12 Short Story

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Denis Zmak UNIT: York UNIT PRESIDENT: Liz Stuart by

JEMMY ERHIAGANOMA

C

harlotte est une ado de seize ans qui se fait de soucis pour son amie, Amélie.

Elle a remarqué que quelque chose n’allait pas, elle a décidé de lui écrire une lettre. Après tout, on sait à quel point l’adolescence peut être difficile.

Charlotte ne veut pas que son amie fasse quelque chose d’absurde…

Je t’écris cette lettre pour te faire remarquer que…que je me fais de soucis pour toi, mon amie. Ça fait un bail que nous sommes sorties ensemble, toi et moi-et ce n’est pas par manque d’avoir essayé! Je te vois à l’école de temps en temps, et tu as toujours l’air très fatigué, et ça m’inquiète beaucoup. Tu pousses toujours de gros soupirs… (Sache qu’il n’y a pas à être seule… il y a pas mal de gens qui se font du souci pour toi). Et en classe, tu travailles et tu te concentres très (trop) dur, puis tu quittes la salle aussitôt que les cloches sonnent. En plus, tu ne perds pas ton temps à socialiser avec les autres après l’école. Tu pardonneras mon impudence, mais qu’est-ce que tu as? Je suis au courant de ta situation…je sais que tu es l’aînée de ta famille et que tu as beaucoup de choses à faire; cependant, moi aussi je le suis. Il faut que je prenne soin de mon petit frère et de ma petite sœur, mais je fais toujours le temps pour moi. Je ne veux être ni méchante ni insensible, mais il y a une chanson par Trust-« Antisocial, » tu la connais? « Tu bosses toute ta vie pour payer ta vie tombale, » ce sont les paroles. Cela est devenu mon mantra, et peut-être ça doit devenir le tien aussi.

Mon amie, c’est très, très important d’avoir une vie équilibrée, pour plusieurs raisons. Je t’en donne une-tu es toujours adolescente; ne l’oublie pas!! Si tu passes

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tout ton temps à travailler, tu perdras ta jeunesse et tu le regretteras, relâche de temps en temps. Cela dit, il ne faut pas devenir paresseuse, quoi! ☺ (Moi non plus, je n’ai pas envie de le devenir). En revanche, tu te fais des pressions, pour tes études, ainsi que pour ta vie familiale. Si tu continues comme ça, tu vas t’épuiser.

Une vie équilibrée exige que tu fasses tes devoirs, mais en même temps, que tu apprennes à dire « non » à ceux qui t’en demandent trop. Il faut aussi que tu dormes huit heures chaque nuit (à tout le moins). Je suis ado, comme toi, alors je sais, que c’est dur de faire tout ça. Cependant, il est indispensable pour ta santé. En parlant de ta santé… est-ce que tu te sens bien, Amélie? J’ai peur que tu n’attrapes le froid, vu que c’est l’hiver. N’oublie pas de prendre tes vitamines!

Uh oh… je pense que je vais finir cette lettre-là, de peur de me passer pour ta mère! Pour conclure, je veux que tu saches que je suis toujours là pour toi, et que tu peux tout me dire. C’est la raison, en fait, pour laquelle je t’ai écrit cette lettre!

Un de ces jours, je veux bien qu’on aille au ciné ensemble ou qu’on fasse quelque chose de ce genre. Finalement, n’hésite surtout pas de me signaler si tu as besoin de jaser. Et moi, je n’hésiterai jamais de te niaiser quand je vois que tu en as besoin ;) (Au fait, Pierre voudrait savoir si tu te souviens de lui… *clin d’œil*) Avec amitié, Charlotte Satisfaite, Charlotte cachète sa lettre avec un coup de langue et un sourire.

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LA GUERRE

St. Elizabeth TEACHER: Laura Volpe

SCHOOL:

Secondary Grades 11 and 12 Poem

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Larry Schincariol UNIT: York UNIT PRESIDENT: Liz Stuart by

ANTHONY FERRARI

La guerre, on ne l’a pas rêvé, La guerre, on ne l’a pas voulu, La guerre, on ne l’a pas cru, La guerre, on l’a créé.

Elle est venue sans avertissement, Elle est venue maintenant.

Elle est remplie avec violence, Et c’est très désolant.

On croit qu’elle est stupide, Elle est venue comme un astéroïde.

Elle nous a fait pleurer, Elle nous a fait tuer, Elle ne nous a pas fait rire, Elle nous a fait souffrir.

On ne peut pas se cacher, On ne peut pas oublier, On ne peut pas courir, On ne peut pas partir.

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On doit avoir, Un peu d’espoir.

Pour faire la paix, Tout le monde doit participer.

Avec la guerre, on éprouve la tristesse.

Avec la guerre, la vie passe en vitesse.

Avec la guerre, personne gagne.

Avec la guerre, il n’y a pas de lois.

Le ciel est allumé, Mais ce n’est pas les étoiles ou le soleil.

C’est les bombes et les armes, Rien n’est calme.

Les soldats avec un char de combat, On se sent mal pour les soldats.

Ils risquent leurs vies, Est-ce qu’ils vont vivre?

On ne peut pas le décrire.

Quelques soldats essayent d’arrêter la guerre, Mais ils ne peuvent pas le faire.

Ils n’ont pas le temps de dormir, Ils ont seulement le temps de courir.

Mais dans un lieu en douleur, Il y a une lueur, C’est la paix dont on parle, Si elle était la, il serait mieux.

De restaurer la paix, Pour l’amour du pays, Et pour la liberté.

Une seule colombe dans le ciel, Elle fera notre terre belle.

Un monde sans la guerre, Ah c’est magnifique…notre terre!

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UN CADEAU PRÉCIEUX

St. Theresa of Lisieux TEACHER: Sylvie Gagnon

SCHOOL:

Secondary Grades 11 and 12 Play

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Greg Bolton UNIT: York UNIT PRESIDENT: Liz Stuart by

K E E Y E O N M A R K H WA N G A N D B R A N D O N K I N - B O N W O N G

SCÈNE I C’est tard dans la soirée. Jacques est chez lui.

Jacques:

198…199…200 dollars! J’ai enfin assez d’argent pour acheter la console de jeu vidéo, pour le septième anniversaire de mon petit frère. Je n’ai pas le pouvoir pour guérir son cancer mais je peux lui donner du bonheur.

Jacques met l’argent dans son portefeuille.

SCÈNE II Deux jours ont passée. François marche dans le vestibule et voit Jacques, qui est visiblement stressé.

François:

Salut Jacques! Qu’est-ce qui se passe?

Jacques:

François, j’ai perdu mon portefeuille! Il contenait beaucoup d’argent et il faut que je le trouve bientôt!

François:

Peut-être que tu peux essayer de retracer tes pas.

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Jacques:

Ah oui, ça c’est une bonne idée, est-ce que tu pourrais m’aider?

François:

Bien sur. Premièrement, pense à toutes les choses que tu as fait ce matin.

Jacques:

C’était comme un jour ordinaire. Je me suis levé, brossé les dents, mangé mon petit déjeuner, et je suis parti prendre l’autobus pour l’école… ah oui, te rappelles-tu sur l’autobus quand j’ai sorti mon permis de conduire de mon portefeuille pour le montrer à Marco et toi?

François:

Ah oui, mais je ne peux pas me rappeler si tu l’as remis ensuite.

Jacques:

Peut-être que nous devrions demander à Marco s’il se souvient de quelque chose. Allons-y!

Jacques et François sortent ensemble.

SCÈNE III L’école a fini. Jacques et François cherche pour Marco.

François:

Regarde! Marco est là!

Jacques:

Marco! Viens ici pour une minute.

Marco arrive.

Marco:

Salut mes amis, comment ça va?

Jacques:

Te rappelles-tu hier matin quand je t’ai montré mon nouveau permis de conduire?

Marco:

Oui, je me rappelle.

Jacques:

Est-ce que tu as vu si j’avais mis mon portefeuille dans ma poche après?

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Marco:

Hmm… Je suis désolé Jacques, mais je ne peux pas me rappeler, je n’étais pas vraiment attentif. Pourquoi me demandes-tu ça?

François:

Jacques a perdu son portefeuille hier et nous le cherchons.

Marco:

Jacques, avez-vous essayé de regarder au parc? Nous sommes allés là hier pendant le déjeuner.

Jacques:

Ah! Tu as raison, nous pouvons regarder au parc aussi!

Marco:

Si tu as vraiment laissé le portefeuille sur l’autobus, tu peux téléphoner la compagnie d’autobus.

François:

Bonne idée, Marco! Merci pour ton aide!

Marco:

Bonne chance!

Jacques et François sortent ensemble.

SCÈNE IV Jacques et François ont téléphoné la compagnie d’autobus mais il n’avait pas le portefeuille. Maintenant, ils arrivent au parc local.

Jacques:

François, regarde ici et je vais regarder aux bancs en bas là.

Ils cherchent pour quelques minutes.

François:

Je ne le vois pas Jacques, je ne pense pas que c’est ici non plus.

Jacques:

D’accord. Je vais regarder encore sur le bord de la rivière.

François:

De rien, Jacques… Il faut que j’aille à la… maison maintenant parce que je dois finir mon…grand projet de science pour demain…

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Jacques:

Aucun problème François. Merci pour ton aide mais je ne peux pas retourner chez moi jusqu’à ce que je trouve mon portefeuille.

François:

Bonne chance.

Jacques:

Salut!

François sort du parc. Jacques se dirige vers la rivière, en commençant à paniquer.

Jacques:

Ahhhh! Où est mon portefeuille? Mon frère a besoin de ce cadeau! Il doit être effrayé extrêmement, il doit être terrifié!

Il est trop jeune pour subir tout cette douleur. J’ai besoin de ce cadeau pour l’aider par ce temps difficile. Si le cadeau peut lui donner un sourire, je serai heureux. Où est mon portefeuille? Je dois trouver l’argent avant son septième anniversaire, le jour avant sa grande opération… Où est mon…

À ce moment, Jacques voit son portefeuille. Malheureusement, il se trouve dans les mains de Tony, l’élève le plus méchant que Jacques connait à l’école.

Jacques:

Oh mon Dieu, comment vais-je récupérer mon portefeuille?

Il ne voudra sûrement pas me le redonner. S’il ne me le redonne pas alors je devrai utiliser la force.

Jacques approche vers Tony et ses grands amis. Jacques les confronte.

Jacques:

Tony, tu as mon portefeuille! Donne-le-moi!

Tony:

Ah Jacques. Mais je l’ai trouvé donc c’est le mien maintenant.

Jacques:

Tony, donne-moi le portefeuille s’il vous plait.

Tony:

Haha non. Ton portefeuille est ma possession maintenant!

Hahaha...

Tony et ses amis s’éloignent de Jacques en riant. La colère de Jacques augmente et il aborde Tony à derrière. Le portefeuille tombe dans la rivière.

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Jacques:

Oh non, mon portefeuille!

Jacques l’a pourchassé mais la rivière est plus rapide que lui. Jacques crie.

Jacques:

Mon portefeuille, mon argent! Tony, j’avais besoin de cet argent pour mon petit frère!

Tony:

De l’argent? Il n’y a pas d’argent dans ce portefeuille.

Jacques:

Quoi?

Tony:

Je l’ai volé de François parce que c’était un portefeuille beau mais alors il a parti en courant. Je pense qu’il a ton argent.

Mais maintenant tu dois me donner un nouveau portefeuille Jacques!

Jacques a fui rapidement pour éviter le danger et il a couru vers la maison de François.

Jacques: Je ne peux pas le croire! François, mon meilleur ami?

Jacques sort du parc.

SCÈNE V Jacques arrive à la maison de François.

Père de François:

Qui es-là?

Jacques:

Je m’appelle Jacques, je suis un ami de Fr-

Père de François:

Ne me dérange pas! Je suis occupé!

Il claque la porte. Jacques commence à frapper sur la porte.

Jacques:

Hey! Ouvre la porte! Il faut que je parle à François!

La porte ouvre encore.

Père de François:

Que voulez-vous maintenant? Laissez-moi seule!

Jacques:

Vous êtes le père de François, non? Je dois lui parler.

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Père de François:

Ah, François, cet adolescent stupide! Je ne l’ai pas vu depuis quelques jours, mais il est vraiment pathétique de toute façon. Peut-être qu’il a décidé de réellement faire quelque chose avec sa vie! Bon débarras! Maintenant, laissez-moi tranquille!

La porte claque encore une fois. Jacques se tient devant la porte pour quelques secondes, en train de penser à toute qu’il vient d’apprendre.

Jacques:

Mon dieu, qu’est ce qui ce passe avec François? Si mes parents étaient comme ça, je courrais loin de la maison…

J’espère que François va bien, mais c’est incroyable! Il semble que tout est bon dans sa vie, mais où est-ce qu’il dort?

Comment peut-il manger chaque jour s’il ne reste plus chez lui depuis longtemps? Il faut qu’il aye beaucoup d’argent pour…de l’argent… mon argent…

Deux images se sont formées dans la tête de Jacques. La première image était de son frère qui était très malade dans l’hôpital, et la deuxième image était de son ami qui était assis sur le trottoir dans la ville, affamé et fatigué.

Jacques:

Il faut que je trouve Jacques aussitôt que possible, mais je ne sais pas où il est. Donc, j’attendrai pour l’école demain.

Jacques commence à marcher chez lui.

SCÈNE VI C’est le matin du lendemain. A l’école, Jacques trouve François dans la cour.

François:

Jacques! As-tu réussi à trouver ton portefeuille?

Jacques:

Oui, je l’ai trouvé.

François:

Vraiment? Ah ça… ça c’est bon.

Jacques:

François, il faut que je te parle en privé.

François:

Qu’est ce qui se passe? Est-ce qu’il y a quelque chose qui ne marche pas?

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Jacques:

Je voulais te demander la même chose. Je suis allé chez toi hier pour te trouver, et j’ai parlé avec ton père.

Le sourire subtil que François porte toujours est disparu. Il regarde fixement par terre.

François:

Jacques…

Jacques:

J’ai vu Tony au parc hier, et il avait mon portefeuille. Il m’a dit qu’il te l’a volé, et que le portefeuille était vide.

François:

…Jacques…Jacques je n’ai pas voulu...c’est...je...

À ce moment là, François s’est mis à pleurer.

Jacques:

Ne t’inquiète pas, c’est correct. Je pense que je comprends tout.

François:

Oh J-Jacques, je suis dé-désolé pour tout, c’est t-toute ma faute, je suis une personne horrible!

Jacques:

Non, ce n’est pas vrai, et je te pardonne.

François:

Quand j’ai pris ton portefeuille sur l’autobus, je voulais juste quelques dollars. Je ne pouvais pas retourner à la maison, à mon père… je n’avais plus d’argent pour la nourriture.

Quand j’ai vu qu’il y avait tout c’argent dans ton portefeuille, je me suis senti horrible et j’ai voulu te le renvoyer, mais j’avais peur de ce que tu penserais de moi. Puis après un peu, je l’ai perdu.

Jacques:

François, si tu m’avais dit tout ça, j’aurai compris… où est l’argent maintenant?

François:

Ici, dans mon sac.

François fouille dans son sac, et sort une enveloppe pliée. Donc, il la donne à Jacques, qui l’ouvert et sort $200. Il pense profondément pour quelques secondes, et sépare $100.

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Jacques:

François, je veux te donner ça.

François:

Non Jacques! Après ce que j’ai fait, je ne mérite pas ton aide.

Jacques:

Tu ne dois pas traiter tes problèmes tout seul. Je peux t’aider.

François:

Jacques… Merci, tu es un très bon ami!

Jacques et François se serrent dans les bras.

François:

J’ai juste une question en plus. Pourquoi as-tu besoin de $200?

Jacques:

Oh, ne t’inquiète pas de ça.

Les deux amis marchent vers l’école, l’un à coté de l’autre.

SCÈNE VII Après l’école, Jacques va à l’hôpital et va voir son petit frère.

Petit frère:

Jacques! Où étais-tu?

Jacques:

Désolé, mon frère. Je n’ai pas été capable d’obtenir la console de jeu vidéo que tu voulais. Mais je t’ai quand même acheté ce robot téléguidé pour ton anniversaire.

Petit frère:

Jacques, je n’ai pas besoin d’un cadeau. J’ai déjà un grand frère qui m’adore. Tu es le meilleur cadeau que je puisse avoir! D’ailleurs, merci pour le robot, haha!

Jacques et son petit frère se regardent et sourient.

Jacques:

Joyeux anniversaire, mon petit frère!

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MON PETIT NICHOLAS

Regiopolis-Notre Dame TEACHER: Martine Tremblay

SCHOOL:

Secondary Grades 11 and 12 Nonfiction

SCHOOL STAFF REPRESENTATIVE:

Will Geris UNIT: Algonquin-Lakeshore UNIT PRESIDENT: Tom Doyle by

THERESE KENNY

U

n petit garçon entre, les cheveux courts et bruns, les yeux grands et ronds, si bleu qu’on oublie quelques fois qu’ils ne sont pas l’océan luimême. Son sourire allume le studio, son rire résonne entre les murs.

Il tire ma main, c’est plus précis de dire qu’il tire mon cœur. J’entends sa voix qui chante mon nom et je ne peux plus résister à l’étreindre. Je me sens ses petits bras doux autour de moi et il chuchote, « Je t’aime ». Et moi, je réponds, « Je t’aime aussi, mon petit Nicholas ».

Mon Nicholas porte ses beaux pantalons noirs qui sont parfaits pour danser.

C’est ce qu’il est venu faire. Sa chemise est bleue cette semaine, parce qu’il ne veut pas encore porter du blanc. Il saute et cours avec les autres petits garçons. Tout à coup, il trouve une petite voiture, son jouet préféré, et commence à jouer.

Quand son cours commence, il me prend par la main et nous entrons dans le studio ensemble, l’un à côté de l’autre. Nous nous asseyons dans un cercle avec les petites ballerines et attendons le professeur, Miss Melissa. Nicholas s’assoit sur mes genoux, je l’étreins encore.

Nicholas a six ans, son visage est rond et rayonne de bonheur. Je le vois tous les jeudi soirs quand il vient danser avec moi. Sa petite main trouve la mienne, et il me regarde avec ses yeux qui ne cachent rien: le bonheur, la joie, l’amour. Toutes les émotions que mon Nicholas ressent apparaissent dans les traits de son visage. C’est

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en regardant ce visage qu’on oublie que Nicholas n’est pas comme tous les autres petits dans la classe.

D’un premier regard, Nicholas est normal, cependant ceux qui le connaissent bien savent qu’il souffre d’autisme. Ils savent que, les matins, il a de la difficulté à aller à l’école parce que c’est épeurant pour lui, ils savent qu’il ne peut pas dormir les nuits parce qu’il a des cauchemars, ils savent qu’il a peur de participer dans les cours de sciences et d’éducation physique. Ceux qui connaissent Nicholas sont au courant de tous les obstacles que sa mère et lui rencontrent tous les jours.

Mais quand je le regard dans les yeux et je vois sa joie, j’oublie tout ça. Je me souviens seulement du fait que Nicholas aime danser et jouer, qu’il est comme tous les autres petits, et surtout que je l’aime. J’aime ses yeux, ses cheveux, son sourire, la façon dont il danse, et la manière dont il me prend par la main chaque fois qu’il me voit.

Avant qu’il part, je l’étreins une dernière fois et il me dit encore, « Je t’aime » et en savant qu’il y aura toute une autre semaine avant que je puisse le revoir de nouveau, je réponds, « Je t’aime aussi, mon petit Nicholas ».

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