eunoia | Fall 2022 | Hour 2 Edition

eunoia

Creative Staff

Editor-in-Chief

Christal Ruppert

Marketing

Patrick Kennedy

Editing

Sarah Turner

Shyla Wolf

Levi Wood Proofreading

Autumn Jankowski

Katie Iablonschi

Faith Jacobson

Levi Wood

Landon Bjokne

Victor Nyabuto Noah Simonson David Golodneac Design Team

Adyson Brown Amara LaFrance Nichita Lesnicenco

Shyla Wolf

Levi Wood

Front Cover Art: Hailey Pust. Untitled.Photograph. eunoiais the literary journal of the language arts department at PACT Charter School. Ramsey, Minnesota

Dedication

To the amazing human organisms that helped with the creation of this magazine. They put in their effort, time and energy to have this creation come to life. To make this Eunoia sparkle like it is supposed to; many fantastic souls came together and this amazing magazine. We dedicate this Eunoia to all those who participated in this creation beautiful job everyone.

Sarah Turner 2023

Forward “GET READING NOW OR YOU MAY REGRET IT FOREVER,” -Levi Wood, again, but you already knew that. Eunoia. Jan 2023

Epigraph

Editor’s Notes

This magnificent magazine was made with only the finest students who gave their time and effort somewhat willingly. Without them, such a beautiful, magnificent, SUMPTUOUS work of art would never have been created. It is truly the greatest achievement of all time ever.

In order to make a good magazine, it requires talented, intelligent individuals who can do the impossible, and also sometimes me. Please enjoy this splendid, spectacular, incredible, unbelievable, awe-inspiring, breathtaking, RESPLENDENT CHEF D'OEUVRE!!!!

“

A good novel tells us the truth about its hero; but a bad novel tells us the truth about its author.” -GK Chesterton's Heretics

Levi Wood, but you already knew that.

January 2023

The process of publishing Eunoiahas never been the same twice in a row.

Or maybe twice, sure, but not more than that. When I started the literary magazine, I was doing both fall and spring issues, all alone. Then I dropped the spring issue. Then my creative writing class took over the bulk of the creative process for the next several years, with the exception of 2020, since we didn’t get any submissions.

And in 2022, it changed again. This year, instead of one creative writing class one core team working on a central publication I had two. The theme for the 2022 issue of Eunoiais change. Because, well, the only constant thing in life is change.

As the seasons shift, as our skills grow, as our minds change, as our school expands, we hope you find beauty that can be found in change. Steady on.

Christal Ruppert

January 2023

Table of Contents

Poetry

Laconic Kingdom

Claire Tessum

Poem

The monarchy was simply run

Until they came with sword and gun

An insulting blow sent to The Queen But she fought back with word and dream

The king thought differently instead, And met the army had to head For in his eyes revenge could stand With honor; they went hand in hand. She nodded slow, and he left, The kingdom ran with little theft. The king came back, she hung her head She knew he carried guilt and dread. Betrayed, with little marriage to repair, She rose above and stole his chair.

Sunset in Costa Rica

Hailey Pust

Photograph

Under the Sea

Madeline Reinke

Painting

Greater Than Fear

Ann Ostendorf

Poem

I am the quiet promise who knows the way home again,

I am the gentle wind who says everything is okay now,

Tell me the story that I may spread my wings,

Love is greater than fear, and I am a soldier walking in love.

All About Perspective

Turner

Sarah

Photograph

Unread

Christal Ruppert

Fiction

Mim invites herself over for a Star Wars marathon on the last day of junior year. This isn't unusual. She knows I suck at initiating things, and she says her house is too quiet, so she just comes over. Even my parents are unfazed by her random drop-ins. I'm pretty sure Presley would trade me for Mim in a heartbeat, but whatever.

Presley's with us now, tucked in Dad's recliner with her feet under her, playing games on Mom's tablet. I'd ask why she begged to watch with us if she wasn't even going to watch, but I know it would be pointless. Pres doesn't have an attention span. And as long as she isn't annoying, I don't really care. Mom and Dad aren't home yet, and she's easier to keep tabs on if she's in the living room.

We start our marathon the way we always do, with Episode IV. I've argued for chronological order before, but Mim insists we watch in the order the movies were made. Plus, I think she likes Leia best. I can't really blame her.

They're a lot alike, I think as Leia quips at Luke, "Aren't you a little short for a stormtrooper?"

I press back into the couch cushions and watch a young Harrison Ford shoot out the door to the comm room. Mim's commentary should start anytime. She's a master at making cracks during movies, and this is one of her favorites. We're an hour into the movie and she's been pretty quiet. I glance over at her beside me. She's looking at her phone not fiddling with it or typing anything, just looking.

Leia insults Han's rescue effort and I snort. "You would so do that." Mim isn't a mean person, but she can dish sarcasm with the best of them.

She puts her phone down.

"Ooh, yes, I love the horrible CGI in this part."

While Luke tries to escape the grasp of the garbage disposal monster, Mim mocks the way Han and Leia are no help but still won't stop arguing. The simplistic choreography of the fight between Obi Wan and Vader is next. When Leia calls Chewie a walking carpet, I snicker.

"I can see you calling Owen a walking carpet," I say.

"Especially when he tries to mansplain football to me," she says.

She picks up her phone again. Opens an app, studies it. Sets it down again.

"This entire franchise is just people bullying C3PO."

"Well, duh," she replies. "He's annoying."

We watch the Millennium Falcon escape.

"Do you think it's ironic that Han calls Leia 'sister' when she's actually Luke's sister?" I ask.

Mim's looking at her phone. She doesn't seem to hear me.

The Rebels plan their attack. Han Solo bugs out and then comes back. Luke uses the force to hit the core.

"Gavin Mueller," she says when Han winks at Leia during the award ceremony. "That's totally something he

would do."

I don't say anything because, yeah, she's right.

We swap over to Episode V. Mim has plenty to say about the snow planet and the tauntaun and Leia calling Han a scruffy-looking nerf herder, and I think maybe she's forgotten her phone.

But no. As Luke prepares to leave, she looks back at it.

I almost reach for the remote to hit pause because I love to mock how creepy Yoda is, but I just elbow her instead. "What's up?"

She pinches her lips together and gives a subtle shake of her head.

The thing is, most people don't see this side of Mim. She's little miss personality at school, always ready with a quip or a joke, always talking to someone. Our classmates would probably be surprised at how quiet can be.

"Imagine having to act like you're being choked." Presley looks up from her game long enough to comment on Vader's interpersonal skills.

"Imagine being the guy promoted because your boss got Force-choked right next to you," Mim says.

"Imagine getting assigned to Vader's ship because they keep losing employees," I say.

Mom comes home as Luke whines about finding the Jedi Master while Yoda cackles with glee. She looks tired from her day, and unsurprised that we're watching Star Wars.

"I'm thinking pizza for supper," she says. "Any preferences? Miriam?"

Because, you know, even though Mim is beyond guest status, she's still the favored one.

We give our input, and later, Mom tells Presley to come help make a salad. "You're not watching the movie anyway," she says when Presley complains.

The Falcon has arrived in Cloud City, and since neither of us really likes the betrayal of Lando Calrissian, I mute it and turn to face her.

"Okay, spill."

She keeps her eyes fixed on the screen. "As annoying as he is, they really should have listened to C3PO here." We watch him get blown to pieces by an unseen shooter.

"Mim."

She tips her head back on the couch and rolls her eyes up to the ceiling. She mumbles something. Onscreen, the ghost of Obi Wan is doing "Lord help me" hands, and I can relate.

"Come again?"

She unlocks her phone and tosses it to me. It's open to a text message thread where the last several texts from Mim are read but unanswered. The most recent is from this afternoon. It's about Mim's end-of-the-year dance recital.

My eyes flick up at the contact. It's her dad.

I look back at the text message. It's unread.

I lean back into the couch, too. "That sucks," I say. "I'm sorry."

Mim hums.

We sit there like that for a while, because I'm not sure what else there is to say. Mim's dad is famous for his inconsistency. He calls her once a week and pays for her studio dance stuff, but he sucks at answering texts and showing up to things. Nothing I can say will change that. I reach over to link my elbow through hers, because sometimes that's what I need when I'm feeling down about my brother.

Chewie puts C3PO back together. Han Solo gets frozen in carbonite. Dishes clank from the direction of the kitchen and we can just hear the strains of Presley telling Mom about her day. The movie is still muted.

When Luke sets out to find Vader, Mim reaches for the remote and turns the sound back on.

"As far as deadbeat dads, I mean..." I gesture vaguely to the TV. "It could be worse, I guess."

Mim's lips twitch into a small smile.

Dad comes home then. "Ahh, girls after my own heart! Episode V is a good one." He stands behind the couch and messes up our hair.

Mim smiles up at him. "You're welcome to join us."

He glances at the kitchen before sitting down in his recliner. "Just because this is the best part."

We watch the storylines dip and weave. When Luke's hand falls into the abyss, I say, "Do you think lightsabers cauterize the wounds they make?"

"There's no blood," Mim adds. "You'd think losing a hand would be messier than that."

"Also, minus 100 dad points for cutting off your son's hand."

Dad shushes us. "Best line!"

In the subtitles, Vader's famous line is italicized: "I am your father."

Dad just about busts a gut laughing. "Do you know how long it took to convince Corinne to name our son Luke?"

I roll my eyes because I've heard this story so many times. "You're hilarious, Dad."

"She threatened to change his name when he was three weeks old because she said I was quoting too much."

Mim has heard this narrative several times, too, but she laughs with him. "Plus 100 dad points," she declared. "That's dedication."

Mom appears again. "Supper's about ready."

Dad gets up. "They're almost finished with the movie. What else needs to be done?"

He follows her back to the kitchen and the sound of ice cubes soon rattles in. Mim and I watch Luke get fitted with a robotic hand. Dad pops his head back in.

"Miriam, Kit, how about popcorn for Episode VI, huh? I'll make it just the way you like if you let me watch with you."

Mim's grin has returned. "Absolutely."

He leaves again and Luke and Leia watch Lando and Chewie fly away in the Falcon. Mim checks her phone one more time. She sighs. "Still nothing. Thanks for nothing, Dad."

I take her phone from her and toss it to the other side of the couch. "Hey," I tell her. "You're always welcome to share mine."

Eunoia

Brady Anderson MixedMedia

The Traitor

Levi Wood Fiction

Bang! Bang!

Dust stirred in the warm air as the front door rattled from someone knocking roughly.

“Open up!” a gruff-sounding voice yelled from outside.

“We don’t open up nothing for nobody!” Lily, the sassy eight-year-old, yelled with a raised fist. “Especially those without manners!”

“Open up by order of the king!” the voice yelled.

Jacob leaped from his bed, dashed over, and opened the door. A uniformed guard stood in the doorway. “What can I help you with?” Jacob asked rather politely. The guard seemed startled when it was just Jacob who answered the door. He was clearly expecting someone older. He sighed. “The king wishes to see you. It’s about your tax debt,” the guard said, almost with real empathy. “He wants you and your younger sister.”

“Uh oh,” Jacob murmured.

“Why do we have to go to the king?” Lily asked.

“He says so,” Jacob replied with an extra serious expression.

“Just follow me,” the guard said with a stiff exhale. Then he began slowly walking towards the castle, with the children in tow.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you,” Jacob whispered hurriedly to his sister.

“

Promise?” Lily asked, swatting away a nearby spider who was climbing down a tree.

“I promise,” Jacob agreed, with a shiver from the cold midnight air. Jacob followed the path all the way to the southren king’s castle.

. The king was perched on top of a massive gold throne. It took little to no guessing to tell where all their tax money went.

“Jacob!” The king greeted Jacob and Lily in an unusually friendly manner. That king’s royal garb looked to be worth more than entire towns. Then he paused. “You’re Jacob the second, where is Jacob the first?” the king said almost mockingly, for he knew the answer quite well, but was an absolute jerk.

“Dead. Killed on his last mission,” Jacob admitted.

“But I need my best spy for this mission’s success! Alas, I must instead kill you two, for you have no way of repaying that debt.” The king clapped his hands. Jacob frowned as he was arrested. He knew this was coming from the start. He was getting the same punishment all the people who disobeyed the king got, instant execution.

“Unless– Jacob… your dad must’ve surely trained you. And who would ever suspect a child to be a spy. It’ s perfect,” the king declared with an evil grinchy grin. “What do I have to do?” Jacob asked with a serious tone. He

didn’t like where this was going, but he disliked a swift execution significantly more, as one does from time to time.

“I need Ralph and Bella, two of that insufferable Northern King’s kids, on a carriage to their death. It will be chucked off the mountain pass bridge, down a hundred-foot fall into a freezing lake infested with mutant piranhas we imported. You’re going to make sure they get on it. ”

Jacob didn’t understand the reasoning but knew better than to directly question this king. That would be treason and mean a swift execution. “How?” “They’re children about your age. Think of something. Just get it done.” “And my debt will be gone?”

“Yep.”

Jacob accepted, though not quite happy he would have to trick someone to their death, as one does from time to time.

Within minutes the plan was active, and the message got sent to the people it needed to, if you know what I mean. Lily got to go back home, and Jacob was sent to the Northern Kingdom, undercover as a servant of some sort.

“Scrub those floors better!” Elizabeth yelled. “I can’t see my lovely reflection in them yet!”

“But it’s stone, milady!” Jacob complained as he continued unsuccessfully scrubbing the stone in an attempt to make it shinier. Stone isn’t very easy to get shiny. “DO I LOOK LIKE I CARE!?” Elizabeth yelled, putting her hands on her hips. “Yes, your majesty,” Jacob replied wearily. He had gotten a job in the palace easily. Jacob couldn’t believe how much stuff this snotty princess “needed.” Elizabeth had more makeup on than skin and wore expensive dresses.

“Message for one Jacob Goodyguy!” a messenger hollered up the massive palace stairs. Jacob began to get up and grab his mail, but was suddenly halted by the princess. “NO! These stupid, insolent peasants! You keep scrubbing the floor unless you want to be publicly executed! I’ll just read your mail to you while you work,” Elizabeth declared regally. “This urchin probably doesn’t even know how to read,” she mumbled but in such a way that it was easily heard by everyone.

Jacob sagged and went back to scrubbing the stone floor. And I’ve failed already. Great. Jacob took his anger against life out on the floor. Why can’t something nice happen to me for once?

“JACOB! There is a speck over here! A speck! In your majesty's presence! This shall not be allowed!” the princess yelled from yet another room.

“Coming, your majesty,” Jacob agreed with a sigh. If this was the princess he was supposed to kill, he wouldn’t feel that bad about it. Jacob peered into the dimly lit room. Suddenly, Jacob was pinned against a wall.

“You’re a spy, huh?” the princess said quietly as she held Jacob against the stone. She was surprisingly strong and Jacob was surprisingly light. Because of the room’s positioning, the guards or the other servant couldn't hear them in there. “Trying to kill my two insufferable siblings? Don’t even try to deny it!”

“Yeah,” Jacob admitted.

“Good. I hate them. They’re really ugly. By the way, your mail says the carriage for their death is coming

tomorrow.”

The princess left leaving Jacob bewildered. “Uh”

“Jacob!” the princess hollered as she left the room “This ceiling isn’t shiny!” Oh well.

Later that day, it just got worse and worse.

“Mop the floor!”

“Make me a snack!”

“I dropped my snack! Make me another snack and mop the floor again!” Finally, there was an evening dance at midnight. Since the princess was attanding, her servants had to too. The dance had slow music played by violinists and some pianists. Jacob yawned audibly and sagged a little.

A pretty lady in a dress walked up to Elizabeth. “Let your servants have a break, they look tired.”

“Fine. they were annoying me anyway.”

Phew. Jacob walked up to the nice lady. She was thirteen or so. “Thanks for that.” “No problem. Elizabeth can be quite a jerk sometimes,” the nice lady replied with a yawn.

A large guy walked up to them. If you had said that the two were sister and brother, I would have punched you in the face for lying (and would’ve apologized afterward).

“Hello.” This guy had a much deeper voice and had the body type of a Greek god. He wasn’t wearing expensive jewelry either. “Who are you?”

“I’m Jacob, nice to meet you,” Jacob said, extending his hand.

“I’m Ralph. If you fall in love with my sister, I will kill you,” Ralph said, crushing his hand in a firm handshake. Jacob could have sworn he heard his bones cracking. “Um-” Jacob stammered confusedly.

“He’s just kidding, don’t worry,” the pretty lady said with a nice smile. “I am not,” Ralph said so bluntly that it made Jacob realize he was completely serious.

“See? Such a jokester. I’m Bella. Nice to meet you, Jacob.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Jacob said with another yawn. “I haven’t been to a dance before. This is terrible. Why are people socializing at midnight, of all times?” “Well, rich people tend to be a little crazy. I prefer the gardens.”

“I’ve never seen any gardens.”

“I’ll have to show you some tomorrow.”

“Can’t. Elizabeth is going to want me to clean everything.”

“Don’t worry. I know how to deal with my snotty sister.”

“Thanks. I’m going to go to bed and get some shut-eye,” Jacob said as he left the dance before Elizabeth could change her mind.

It was only when Jacob woke up that he realized who those people were. “Those people are Bella and Ralph!”

“

Duh, you idiot,” Elizabeth said, as she had heard him talk to himself. “Get moving!”

“Sorry, your highness.” Jacob started to grab his cleaning stuff, which was essentially just a rag.

“No! You stupid peasant! You’re going to go to the park with my two siblings. Once there, tell them about the

glorious hills nearby they should see! So they get on that carriage and DIE!”

“You really don’t like them.”

“It’s personal. GET THEM IN THAT CARRIAGE OR-!” Elizabeth yelled. “I’ll get publicly executed. I know the drill!” Jacob yelled as he dashed out of the room, glad to be moving away from the crazy princess.

By ten or so, Jacob had arrived at the park. He let out a whistle. “This place is gorgeous,” he whispered to no one in particular. There were rows of flowers and hedges and every kind of fruit you could imagine.

“Hello, Jacob!” Bella said with a smile. She was wearing a green dress. Ralph was nearby, sniffing flowers. “Isn’t this place cool?‘

“Oh, it’s great!” Then his stomach twisted. He knew what he had to say. If he didn’t, his little sister would die. If he did, his new friends would die. Not an easy choice. Now for the question you’ve been asking this entire story. Will Jacob trick his friends to their death or not?

“Are you feeling okay?” Ralph asked. “You look unwell.”

“Um. yeah. It… uh… must be the air…”

“The air is perfect out here,” Ralph replied suspiciously, giving Jacob a look and sniffing the fragrant air.

“It’s a little better at those mountains where I grew up,” Jacob lied. And he fails miserably! What a twist!

“Oh. I’ve never been to those mountains. What’s it like?” Bella asked curiously.

“I’ve heard it’s quite nice.”

“Oh, it’s great. I guess… you ’ll just have to see it for yourself,” Jacob said, feeling increasingly sick with guilt.

“I guess. But first, we need to get you to the hospital. You look like you’re going to throw up,” Ralph said.

“Of course not. I’m perfectly healthy-” Jacob started before falling flat on his face unconscious, as one does from time to time.

“That isn’t good,” Ralph bluntly replied.

Soon, Jacob was in a hospital bed, unconscious. Whether he was actually sick, or not, Elizabeth took that it was all part of the plan.

“Poor guy,” Elizabeth, who had been notified, said. Naturally, it was soaked in false empathy as she herself was about twelve feet away from her servant. “He has a point. I’ll have a carriage to take him home, to those mountains. You can visit him when he wakes up.”

“Oh, alright,” Bella agreed.

The carriage driver got a little confused at the change of plans but agreed. “I wouldn’t want you for a sibling,” he said.

“No you would not,” Elizabeth said with an evil grin.

Jacob twitched.

Suddenly, he was back home. The king greeted him and shook his hand, but he heard nothing. There were parties and he got a badge for going above and beyond the will of the king, yet they passed in a blur. Finally, Lily looked him hard in the eyes. “Why did our debt disappear? What have you done?”

“YAH!” Jacob said as he suddenly sat up, and bashed his head against the top of the room. He was in an inn.

Jacob wearily sat at one of the nearby tables. Though not entirely purposeful, he had beaten the odds and had successfully tricked two royals into a carriage. Despite the warmth of the inn, Jacob suddenly felt cold. He had betrayed his new friends, for what? He had saved his sister. But for how long? Taxes are taxes; they pop up again and again. What would happen when it’s time to pay his taxes the next time? What other job could he get? Had he truly saved anyone from anything?

“I’m the bad guy, aren’t I? No. It can’t be too late,” Jacob whispered to himself. Jacob checked out of the inn in a rush. He burst out of the front door into the frigid mountain air. Snow had begun falling, but he ignored it. With a worried expression, he scanned the horizon, getting his bearings. He spotted a massive stone bridge that a few carriages and people were crossing over. That bridge was The Mountain Pass, onto which the carriage was going. But Jacob saw no twisted, broken carriage. The carriage mustn’t have arrived yet.

“I’m not too late,” Jacob whispered. He started running. The snow had steadily been increasing, howling as it formed into a storm, and most of the people on the bridge went to get shelter, but Jacob ignored it. The winter blizzard gnawed at him like a hungry animal and continually shoved him back, but he still pressed on. “Maybe the snowstorm is slowing the carriage down as well,” Jacob whispered. BANG!

A carriage up ahead shook wildly as if it was being held together with matchsticks, slamming repeatedly into the side walls of the bridge suddenly, with a violent swerve its front wheel snapped off. Its side doors were twisted shut as if it had hit something too hard, which it had. The driver leaped off and spirited away. He doubled his pace, which isn’t easy when you just regained consciousness from a self-induced sickness.

Jacob leaped onto the now spinning carriage. The nearby stone was cracking from the consecutive blows. Jacob looked into the side of the carriage and unsuccessfully attempted to rip open the door. Bella and Ralph were panicking, wildly confused and scared.

“What is happening?!” Bella yelled from inside, though between the wall of glass between them and the snowstorm, Jacob heard only a muffled yell. “I’m sorry!” Jacob hollered, though his voice was hoarse.

“What?” Ralph yelled.

KABOOM!

With an ear-bursting sound, the once stable wall shattered completely into a million pieces. The carriage shot straight into the waters, with Jacob getting knocked off onto the bridge.

BOOM!

With the sound of flattening metal, the beautiful carriage slammed into the waters, exploding before sinking to never be seen again. Jacob leapt toward the river, tucked his limbs together, and put his jacket under them. He braced for impact.

“This is going to hurt,” Jacob muttered as the wind whipped around him. POW!

The water exploded, with discarded metal ripping up the jacket and smaller sections of his leg. His left leg got the worst of it, landing at a perfectly terrible angle. “ARGH!” Jacob roared, both from shock and a broken leg. In truth, he actually said something slightly less nice, but let’s pretend he didn’t. Jacob broke the surface of the water, gasping for air. The river shoved him back down into the surging waters as if it were a hungry monster. Jacob

barely managed to get to shore. He stumbled a bit, before taking a deep breath and going back in, now ready. The water was murky and annoying.

As he navigated the waters, he bumped up against Ralph, who had been knocked unconscious, as shown by a wound on his head. Jacob lifted him out of the water and set him down on a boulder above the shore.

Ralph stirred further and coughed wearily. “Jacob?” Ralph was pretty banged up.

“Please don’t die,” Jacob said as he leaped back into the dark waters. Jacob swam for a long time, before finally spotting Bella. He delicately carried her to the shore. She quickly woke up. “Sorry about that. What happened?” she asked.

Jacob was about to respond, but all that running in the snow and swimming one-legged in ice-cold wreckage filled with water suddenly caught up to him, and he collapsed into the sand, already half dead.

THE END

The enraged reader smacked the writer across the face so he would keep writing. Everything hurt. Jacob’ s vision cleared, revealing himself in a nice dainty hospital. When a nurse saw that he was awake, they ran out the door to grab someone. Bella rushed into the room, soon followed by Ralph and the northern king himself who wanted to meet the little hero.

“Jacob!” Bella yelled, excited that he was okay.

“Please don’t,” Jacob said wearily. “It’s all my fault anyway. I’m the one responsible for all this mess.”

“What?” Bella asked as she stopped suddenly.

“I’ll explain,” Jacob started with a deep sigh. “It’s a long story.”

For the rest of that day and night, Jacob calmly explained his story. “You know what this means, right?” the king asked seriously. “This is treason.” “Yes,” Jacob answered equality seriously.

“We’re going to have to hold a trial,” the king said with a frown. “Did you really do all of this?.”

“Yes.”

“But-” Bella started.

“Rules are rules,” the king interrupted sternly. “There are no exceptions.” “I’ll get ready for my execution.”

“This isn’t the southern kingdom, Lad. here, the punishment for attempted treason is two years in jail. That is what you’ll get.”

The two years passed quite quickly. Lily got sent over and Jacob was visited by the princess (the nice one) and prince. Afterwards, he was treated like a hero. Meanwhile

“My liege!” a messenger hollered as he swung open the door leading to the throne room. The panicked look on their face told the entire story. “The carriage driver failed miserably, didn’t he?” the king questioned. “I’ll have to execute him later.”

“Errr. Actually, Jacob interfered. The king also refuses to declare war, and the people are revolting.”

“Arghh!” the Southern King exclaimed as he had a sudden heart attack from being such a grump for so long, as one does from time to time.

Elizabeth got cancer and died. Suddenly the northern kingdom’s budget doubled.

Later, just in case you were curious, Jacob got a new job as a gardener.

LAHLALOO

THE END (But for realzies this time)

Girl in Despair

Hailey Pust Drawing

They Doubt Those Who Were Enough

Maggie Taft

Poem She was perfect

Perfect grades, hair, teeth

Perfect family, perfect friend group, perfect life

But opinions change people and words can be lethal

It started with the “You should wear your hair down.”

Until it got to “You could lose a couple of pounds.”

She wondered when the world got so bold and judgmental

Words are just words right until you’re the one getting belittled

She was stubborn she was fierce

So why was she listening to what they said

Because when you know what people think, It starts to mess with you head

So she complied she gave in, loved too hard, and got too thin

She barely ate and spoke too much

Sad how people doubt those who were enough

And by the end, she lost herself

All they had to say was “We were just trying to help.”

Another life was lost to trying

All her perfect friends just left crying

She barely lived, didn’t leave with much

It’s sad how they doubt those who were enough.

Goddess River

Hailey Pust Photograph

Pass or Fail

Lucia Kerkes

CreativeNonfiction

“I see that the instructor had to yell stop, what happened there?

“Well, I thought that a stop sign was an all-way, but it definitely wasn't,” I admitted.

“Alright, and you’ve been practicing since then?”

I nodded.

“Alright. There’s nothing to worry about. You’re completely in charge of the car. Ready to get going?”

Gonna be honest, I am one hundred percent not in charge of the car, I’m not even in control of myself and my irritating shaky hands–

“Um, I think so.”

“Alright then let's both take a deep breath… and exit to the left.”

It was easy for him to stay calm. He was a nice instructor who already had his license and somehow trusted my driving skills. But me on the other hand, not so much. Due to missing paperwork and anxiety-inducing stop signs that – seriously, who put those there? This was my fourth attempt to get my driver's license, and I was getting tired of being a failure.

For my very first driver's test appointment, I showed up early, and I was sitting in my aunt’s car that’ s more suitable for parking than my mom’s huge minivan.

“Good luck, you’ve got this!” my mom said as she gets out of the car, and a man who looked like he ate teenagers for breakfast approached the car.

He stopped just outside the driver's window to say, “I need to see your permit and insurance.” He glanced down, and that teenager-devouring frown turned into a curt, “This is expired.”

I scrambled to search through anything that could possibly hold an insurance card.

Okay come on, Auntie Angie, you’ve got to have something in here ah okay a crumpled paper, maybe it's this! Are you serious? My cousin's permit? Come on! I need insurance, this guy is waiting for–

“You’ll have to reschedule, I’m not waiting any longer,” he said as he walked towards another person waiting to test.

No– wait– come back, I can find it. I can text her. Maybe he’ll accept a picture or a PDF or something– wait–

That was probably the first time in my teenage years that I cried in front of my mom. I wasn’t exactly consolable, as the reality of my situation was that the next available test within an hour of my house was going to be a wait of at least 4 months with all the covid backups and such. I had made this appointment already 6 months beforehand. And my sister who passed her test the very first time around wasn’t exactly helpful either. And I was angry at my aunt who had lent me the car, because– how do you not check the expiration date on your insurance?

A great question that I had to also ask myself.

We scheduled the next appointment as soon as possible, for Chaska, an hour away. My first real shot to show that I can drive a car like a normal person. With posture completely straight, and sweat stains already forming everywhere despite the open windows in March, I began the mirror and seat adjustments.

Ok, let’s get down to business. Easy, it’s just a bit of driving. Let’s look both ways and back out of this parking real quick… alrighty and we are nice and slowly driving.

But within a single minute of the instructor getting in the car, most hopes for a pass were already gone.

Look both ways at this intersection… wait was that a stop sign–

I had been so focused on looking both ways that I hadn’t even seen it. Perfectly visible at the exit of the section of street parking.

“So that was actually a stop sign that you just drove through. Did you see that?”

His tone of voice was pretty calm, but I didn’t have any good explanation for what had happened.

I swear that wasn’t there before. How are you gonna focus so hard on looking left and right that you don’t see the massive octagon that's literally right in front of you? Why are you sweating so much, just chill out! This absolutely cannot be that difficult.

“...Yeah…”

Great. Great answer. “Did you see that red sign that has the word ‘STOP’ on it?” “Uh yeah actually I did, I just figured it didn’t apply to me today, you know?”

What am I doing? Just drive correctly! I mean, luckily there weren’t any cars around, but it was an automatic fail either way.

“It’s okay, do you maybe want to go get a coffee?” my mom prompted.

“I guess I could go for a consolation coffee.”

Can I just get a consolation license?

Going to get coffee is a big deal for my mom, so I knew she must’ve felt really bad for me. And I’m not one to turn down a free coffee, even if it is consolation coffee, so with me trying not to sulk in the passenger seat, we headed for the nearest coffee chain.

In my final attempt, however, I knew there would be no consolation coffee. People who take three…four…ish attempts to pass their driving tests don’t get consolation coffees after the first failed attempt. I was going for that victory coffee. The kind instructor's voice brought me back to the car.

“So how are you doing in school? Keeping busy?” he prompted.

“Yeah, the school year is wrapping up, so mostly just tests and reviews.”

“That’s good. Here, we’ll practice our uphill park, so just park here on the right.”

Okay let’s signal, look around, and steer to the curb. Careful! Don’t hit the curb, but be one foot from it…

The instructor's calm demeanor made me feel calm as well, and I kept my focus on the road.

Thank you to some higher power for an instructor who seems like he doesn’t hate teenagers or his job or both–shoutout to my second test instructor, hope she’s doing alright.

My second real appointment had been in a new city, and with a new test proctor. 7:30 am in April, Cambridge, and

a grumpy lady. Already off to a great start because now along with my past failed test weighing heavily on my mind, I was about as at ease as a squirrel with rabies trapped in a cage with a vicious house cat. This time failure wasn’t an option. The first time I was going to let slide because I guess it was my first time and I was incredibly nervous. But this time I wasn’t going to let some stupid stop sign get the best of me, much less the three I had to pass just getting out of the parking lot. I went through, making sure to full stop and look around every time. Then we got to the stop sign in front of the main street.

Ok, let’s stop we don’t need a repeat of that first test. Check both ways, ok great, and let’s keep going Right into the middle of four lanes of morning traffic.

“STOP!”

I braked and made sure I looked both ways and double-checked that I had my opportunity to go. Holding onto the wheel like it was the key to the cage I gave a tap on the gas.

“STOP!”

Ok. Almost getting hit by a school bus gave me a second of clarity to realize that it was as a matter of fact, not an all-way stop. I looked over at the instructor in the passenger seat. She was holding onto the door handle and the center console with the look of someone who just saw their life flash in front of their eyes in the shape of a Ford F150. Why did my driver's ed instructor tell me not to do a closed course again?

Oh my god, I’m dead. Someone, please let me out of this car, this lady is going to murder me. Well, that is if I don’t accidentally kill us both first. There’s no way I can pass. Well I mean maybe I could. Is this an automatic fail?

It most certainly was, but the instructor still made me go through five more minutes of the course; me delusionally thinking if I was perfect from here on I still had a shot. Surprisingly, almost killing your road test instructor doesn’t make her give you a license. She most definitely went home that night and told her spouse or pets how much she loved them. I went to school and had to pretend my self-esteem wasn’t crushed and any confidence in driving, driven over by that school bus.

At this point, my mom was getting tired of needing to take time off for me to fail at using a brake, and I still hadn’t figured out how to calm down. So with destroyed nails and picked-at skin, we made another appointment. Chaska again this time, and with some weeks in between to drive up there to practice. I needed to find clarity somehow because I wasn’t in control of my nerves at the wheel. To practice, we drove around for an entire hour, with me narrating my actions and types of stop signs as we went. Last try.

I think we’re almost done, and so far I think I’m doing pretty well. Take a deep breath, you’ve got this. Ok, we stop here, full stop, look left and right, good. Ok let’ s move on…ok left and right, great, still within the speed limit? Yup. Ok good, we’re all good

“Alright now take a right into the DMV, we just have to park by that sign that says ‘Reserved for Road Testers.’”

“Right here?”

“Yup just under the sign.”

I waited for a moment while he wrote down notes and checked the boxes. Were they bad? Did I do ok?

I think I did alright. Is that a frown? Is he frowning or just concentrating, I can’t tell. Come on Mr.Driver

Instructor, I told you a minuscule detail about school; we’re pretty much best friends now. You wouldn’t fail your best friend, would you?

“

Alright. You passed. See, that wasn’t that difficult? Let’s go inside and get that paperwork taken care of.”

Just like that, it was all behind me.

YEEEESSSSS! AHHHHHHH!

When I say I was elated. My mom was waiting outside the DMV for me and I could not stop smiling.

“I passed!”

She matched my whispered yell with her own, “Good job! I knew you could do it!”

All the trips to different DMVs, taking time out of school and work, and last-minute practices were finally over. I had done it. I couldn’t be more ecstatic. I had been almost ready to give up. Scared that failure meant I wasn’t good enough. But I finally did it. I persisted to overcome my anxiety and fear of failure. My previous failed tests were nullified by taking a single deep breath.

Whew. Shoutout to the nice Mr.Driver Instructor, you’re a real one.

Calm Day

Titus Santiago and Hailey Pust

Poem

The day is short running out of time

The sun is falling into the horizon

The bugs are crawling not knowing their insignificance to the world

The still pond was a like a mirror

It reaches for me and I see my flaws

Another person I don’t even recognize A tear rolls down my cheek and drops

The ripples cause my focus to shift

I see the trees moving slowly as my heart rate does the same I slip back into the present and look around and see my machines

The only thing keeping me alive

That was only a memory Hopefully where I go next has many calm days

Shape Poem

Firii Yusuf Poem

Summer days are here at last. Days of school are in the past. Waking up to the morning sun, as if i'm being hugged by one. Too eating popsicles by the shore, with a nice warm breeze and water flowing. Playing games or going outside, napping in the shade and hiding from the sun. Summer time is the best when you have someone to spend that time with. But not all things stay for long, because spring has finally sprung. Spring comes once a year, the birds sing loudly for all to hear. Flowers growing left and right, cool air, wet grass, and having a blast. The day is dark and dreary, behind the clouds the sun is still gleaming. A drop of rain is like a sudden knock at your door. It can brighten your day or even ruin your plans. Therefore it's best to plan ahead or they might come knocking on your door instead. Silently dropping like flies and blowing in the wind, that's when you know fall is about to begin. Red, orange, yellow, and brown swerving right towards the ground, soon they will all eventually fall. Then they dry and crackle, as it gets very fragile. Crunching sounds Coming from shoes And to wait, like children, for the snow to arrive on the news. Winter just around the Corner. While The squirrels Gather nuts, and The Wild geese fly. Heated breath on numbing lips, while they cook by the fire. Cookies baking in the kitchen, the aroma flying through the air. The time of year everyone knows, When Christmas is finally here. Jingle bells And decorating, and the snow finally falling. Seasons tend to come and go, that's just life as we know.

Untitled

Hailey Pust Photograph

Contributor’s Notes

Hailey Pust loves bread.

Ann Ostendorf is a mom, wife, teacher, singer and dabbles in writing lyrics for songs that usually never see the light of day.

Madeline Reinke’s friend made her do this.

Sarah Turner hopes her pictures are better than her 8 year old fuzzy picture of a cardinal all puffed up.

Maggie Taft is black.

Lucia Kerkes says: Drive safe, especially when she’s on the road.

Titus Santiago loves his creative writing class.

Christal Ruppert hopes that her stories have improved since she was a second-grader writing an unfinished mystery about a stolen report card. She still writes about school settings sometimes, since that’s where she lives – er, works – and tries to write young adult protagonists that are as creative, quirky, baffling, and real as her students.

Claire Tessum has troubles with writers bl–

Levi Wood is the weird guy who made that hot garbage at the beginning and the War-and-Peace-length stories that force you to slam your head into and through the table for some rest. Please don’t hurt me.

Brady Anderson - keep calm and… sub to bradinator

Firii Yusuf was here.

eunoia “beautiful thinking”

Levi Wood Hailey Pust Ann Ostendorf Madeline Reinke Maggie Taft Sarah Turner

Claire Tessum Lucia Kerkes Firii Yusuf Titus Santiago Christal Ruppert