Crossroads2014

Crossroads Your Middle School Lit Mag 2013-3014

Table of Contents Cover art by Constantijn Steenbergen 1. The Play’s My Thing

by Stephanie Schartz 2. The Actualization of the Fiona the Ice Monster

by Lily Wellington 4. April Showers Bring May Flowers

by Ellie Pfeffer 5. The Battle for Manhattan

by Will Holzman 7. Tumbleweed

by Elsa Chung 10. 1,000+ Ways to Die

by Maddie Pintoff 11. Caesium

by Nolan Flynn 14. Acceptance

by Spencer Chemtob 14 . Gone At Lost

by Charlotte Jones 16. The Creature

by Maddie Pintoff 17. Hidden Secrets

by Juliet Schulman-Hall 19. The Art of the Bacon, Egg and Cheee

by Eytan Stanton 20. Sea Cucumber

by Nathaniel Oakes 21. Sonnet

by Abigail Whitter 21. Inside and Out

by Meagan Campbell Photograph by Jake Weinstein

The Play’s My Thing

By Stephanie Okun Shwartz, 8th Grade

In the darkest and loneliest days When my soul was left Unfulfilled And during the frostiest and windiest winter nights When the cold air would bite at my skin, My imagination would lead me to a sparkling, sunny day Where bouncing clouds perfectly complement a powder-blue sky, And a field of hope would call my name.

A place where springtime is everlasting, And the calming purr of the Pacific rings in my heart.

Here I am always protected from the frigid gusts of evil.

A Utopia of inspiration and dreams, As surreal as Hollywood with a hint of Broadway charm, And a pinch of something indescribable, Sweet as cotton candy, Luxurious as caviar, The most breathtaking and beautiful world I have ever known.

It is where I will forever belong.

Whenever I visit this special realm, boundary-free, I know for certain– With a security from the bottom of my heart that I have never felt And will never feel About anything else– That it will never be taken away from me, Because after all, The play’s my thing.

Illustration by Catherine Jones

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The Actualization of the Ice Princess

By Lily Wellington 6th Grade

The Ice Princess’s name was Fiona. Fiona lived in the Ice Palace where it was very, very cold. She loved to play with her pet penguin, Gossamer, but sometimes Fiona got lonely and wanted another human to play with. Every day she set out to find another human. But she always left too late and couldn’t find one by dinner.

One day she left earlier by accident and came across another human reading a book. “Hi what’s your name?” asked Fiona.

“AHHH! MONSTER! MONSTER!” screamed the human.

Fiona ran away fending off tears and confusion. As soon as she got home she found a mirror.

She thought she looked normal. Three green eyes, five blonde hairs, and of course her blue skin.

Wait.

The girl she’d met had pale skin, two eyes, and innumberable hairs. Had she been discriminating against Fiona because of her skin? Or her hairs? That was so not cool! Fiona went back to the spot she had seen the girl at the day before but she wasn’t there this time. She decided to try again the next day, sighed, and went home.

“Oh Gossamer.” Fiona said to her penguin. “am I really a monster?” The penguin shook his head and waddled away but it wasn’t quite the reassurance she needed. She told her mom about what had happened and her mom gave her a book called Who am I? The Species Dictionary. Fiona looked herself up. Under species it said “Ice monster.” Fiona gulped.

When she went to her mom about it, her mom decided to give her a second book.

“Men are from Mars women are from Venus?” asked Fiona. she wasn’t sure this was going to help her. And in fact she had felt uncomfortable just holding it so she was glad her mom snatched it out of her hands.

She replaced it with Vampire Bites: A Lustful Love Story. Fiona stared at her mother. In addition to a being monster, she was also a vampire? Could things get worse? Fortunately, the ice queen took that one “A Westchester Parent” that it was great for kids learning to accept themselves.” said her mom nodding approvingly. Fiona didn’t know what a Westchester Parent was but she flipped the book open to the bullying section. “This is good stuff.” she said to herself.

The next morning she went to find the girl again. “Hey you.” Fiona called out.

“AHHH! MONSTER!” the girl screamed again.

“I’m not a monster. Well I am, I guess, but I’m not going to hurt you. Even though I may look weird to you, can’t you just accept me for who I am?” Fiona asked.

“Um, well—okay.” the girl said cheerfully. “I’m Bridget.”

“Fiona.” And the two girls played with each other till dinner.

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Once you got over the whole monster thing, Bridget was really nice, and the girls made plans to play the next day.

The next morning Fiona lept out of the castle sooner than you could say “ice monster” to go see Bridget.

Bridget showed up in a big Hummer that her mom was driving. “Aren’t these bad for the environment?” asked Fiona. Bridget shrugged and they drove into town. “What are going to do here? Get ice cream, go to the toy store, watch Psycho?” Fiona had never seen Psycho but yelp reviews had said it was terrifying. She wanted to do that the most out of the three. But Bridget said, “No. We’re going to the park.” Fiona was still happy with this so they set off.

“Oh my god, look at that girl’s shirt.” said Bridget, laughing, as a girl skipped by them, off toward the swing set. Fiona laughed too but she felt uncomfortable. It wasn’t her fault that girl’s shirt was too small for her.

Bridget walked over to the girl. “I’m Bridget,” she said.

“Hi, I’m Alexa” Bridget stared at Alexa. “ “What is it?” Alexa asked.

“Sorry, I just didn’t realize that tube tops were back in.” Bridget scoffed.

“Huh?” asked Alexa.

“Why are you so stupid?” Bridget laughed. Alexa looked hurt.

“That was mean.” said Fiona.

“Whatever.” Bridget waved her off.

“No.” said Fiona.

“Excuse me?” asked Bridget “You don’t care about the earth, you don’t care about people’s feelings, next you’ll say scary movies are bad.”

“They are.”

“See,” Fiona cried, “see!”

“Get to the point?” asked Bridget.

“We’re not friends anymore.” said Fiona.

“You don’t want to say that.” Bridget warned.

“Trust me... I do.” Bridget stalked away.

“Hey, forget about her.” Fiona told Alexa. Alexa looked up in fear. “ Oh right, I’m an ice monster. Can you accept me?” asked Fiona hopefully. Alexa nodded, still looking a little shaken. The two girls started playing.

“Hey have you ever seen Psycho?” asked Fiona.

“No, but I’m dying to. Have you seen The Shining?” asked Alexa.

“No. We should watch them together!” said Fiona.

“Oh! And The Exorcist!” they exclaimed together.

It was clear they were going to be best friends. ~The End~

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Illustration by Ellie Pfeffer

April Showers Bring May Flowers: How a Rainstorm Brought Out the Dark

by Ellie Pfeffer, 7th grade

Today, the rain falls; heavy, consistent, the clouds sobbing The drops don’t fall softly, but quite loud, steady, massive, and intense.

Each raindrop tear a worry, a fright, a fear As the heavy raindrops roar down upon our heads Crying until there is nothing left to say, And it will stop—just not today

This morning shines a new light of warmth, Covered by a thin blanket, a screen, a door, And soon, I can feel the sun breaking through.

Today is the next day, something new.

The tears not falling anymore, They have been wiped away, by a tissue, I’m sure And today, we expect great things, new things, happy things.

Today brings sunshine and hope And now, the sun basks in its glory, The sky has parted, opened, and the light bounces about in complete clarity, We leave our doubts of this world aside, This beautiful world is yours, is ours, is mine.

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Chapter I: The Battle for Manhattan From “Blue Phoenix” by Will Holzman

“... and that shows that what is significant in Julius Caesar’s death…CASSIM?” Cassim looked up from his book, startled that his teacher had called on him.

“Ummm it shows that-” His teacher, Mrs. Freedsome didn’t even let him finish answering the question.

“In my office, after class.” Zoe, his best friend, looked at Mrs. Freedsome and replied: “Now that doesn’t seem fair, Mrs. Freedsome,” Mrs Freedsome glared at her and roared “YOU TOO ZOE.” Zoe looked down, distraught. Most of the other kids chuckled.

Suddenly the bell rang, signifying that school was over. The kids bolted for the door. All of them except Cassim and Zoe. Mrs. Freedsome looked at them and said “You children need to work on your focus. You never pay attention in class; Maybe if you took your nose out of that book, Cassim, you would realize what we were talking about.” Cassim opened his mouth to respond but Zoe hushed him.

“—He understands,” Zoe said, once they were huddled in her office, “He won’t do it again.” Suddenly, outside the window, a flood of fire filled the sky. Smoke strained at the glass, over billowed over downtown Manhattan moments later. They could hear the screams of terror and of shock filling the streets outside and building within. All Zoe and Cassim could do was look on in despair. Mrs. Freedsome sat rigid. Then it was quiet for a moment, followed by a loud, non-human screeching, which pierced the silence. Mrs. Freedsome looked sharply at the two young children next to her.

“I’ve only heard that sound in one other place,” she whispered. “I didn’t think they could find me here. I guess they followed me home. ” She was looking about her. Cassim looked at Zoe, confused and scared, looked at her.

“Ummm Mrs. Freedsome, what exactly is ‘it’?”

Mrs. Freedsome glared at them, petrified, and answered: “It is not an it. It’s a them. They are the soul hunters, a species of demon that hunts all sentient life for a tiny part of their being known as their souls. I’m not Mrs. Freedsome. I’m the seventh soul keeper. That’s why they are attracted to me. I hold hundreds of souls, and if they... get to me, they get the souls.” Cassim looked at Zoe, who stared at him in return.

Suddenly, the doorknob of Mrs. Freedsome’s office started to shake violently. Suddenly the door broke down and three creatures that looked like dogs except they had three heads and no skin ran in and charged at Mrs. Freedsome. She breathed a heavy sigh, as if she were waiting at a long red light on Madison Ave., took a pencil from her chignon, and jabbed it into one of the monster’s necks. Then, with her carefully manicured hands, which now seemed to possess a curious, iron-like strength, she ripped out one of the beast’s teeth and stabbed the other in the nape of their neck with the remains of the pencil.

Cassim and Zoe sat frozen, mouths agape.

The dogs collapsed into a gory, furless heap on the office floor. Mrs. Freedsome took out her phone and switched to her Channel 5 news app, which reported: “Monsters have invaded Manhattan, and the military can’t seem to stop them.” It switched to a live feed of where the explosion happened, which turned out to be a massive hole in the ground which went down, down, down into darkness. Hundreds of monsters of all different forms were pouring out of it, seemingly from the center of the earth. Uniformed soldiers were shooting at them, but they might as well have been shooting BB guns. They were all torn to pieces by the monsters. Mrs. Freedsome looked at the kids, then down at the dead monsters and said, “We were lucky, the monsters they sent after us were they scouts, called “currens.” They aren’t that strong compared to their older, stronger brethren. You have to come with me.” She took a fresh pencil off her desk and tucked it snugly into the back of her hairdo.

Cassim looked over his shoulder to see the fire raging through Manhattan and the loud cracks as bullets were shot from their guns… and he knew that this was the beginning of something new. It was the beginning of something horrifying. It was the beginning of the battle for Manhattan.

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Illustration by Valerie Edelman

Tumbleweed

By: Elsa Chung, 7th Grade “The people of Delvoston will be dancing once more!” I chant to the hundreds of faces looking up at me.

“We all remember when the king was in power! We all remember the darkness we had to go through, but that will be in the past with me as your new leader! Let me hear what you think about that!” I smile from ear to ear as all of the citizens jump and cry with happiness. “Goodnight and see you tomorrow as the old city falls and the new, beautiful paradise rises.”

I walk off stage and wipe the sweat from my face. I hear Maribelle humm behind me and I turn around and smile. “What do you think? Do you think I am fit to be the new ruler of this wonderful city?”

“Yes,” my sister chuckles, looking at all of the huge signs and banners that state We Shall Start Again and No More Darkness. “I think you will be wonderful.”I smile and lead Maribelle out into the streets. “You sounded passionate out there, I was really impressed.”

“I was passionate and I still am. Those wonderful people deserve so much, and the king didn’t give them a penny. Besides, I know what it is like to be hungry. I fought with every single one of them while the king was alive. There wasn’t one face in that audience that I did not recognize.”

Maribelle nods and waves goodbye. “I have to go, my friends and I are meeting at the park.” I nod. “I am proud of you, brother.”

I will be able to do this. I promise you that I will make this place betteer.

I smile and walk away. I look up at the deep, night sky and head for home. This is the last night as an everyday person, tomorrow you will become a ruler in front of thousands of people. I grin and shake my head with disbelief. “I can’t believe that this is happening.”

“Me neither,” a voice sneers in the darkness. I frown.

“Who’s there?” I call into the dark street.

Silence. I wait for a moment to see if the person will talk again.

“Did you ever wonder where you would be if the king had an heir?” A man steps out from the shadows. I try to look him in the eye, but black, circular glasses cover his eyes. A thick, dark beard and mustache cover most of the man’s skin. His pointy nose curves down to his thin lips as if it were wax and the mouth was a fire. He is a tall, lanky man, and he is probably in his late forties.

He continues: “You would probably be as desperate and stuck as the people you are ‘inspiring’.” I look down and realize that this man, this stranger, is right. “What will happen tomorrow does not depend on talent or skill, just chance.”

“I will be able to do this,” I say firmly. “I promise you that I will make this place better.”

The man chuckles. “And if you fail to carry out that promise?” I pause. The man walks to me and soon I can feel his dirty breath on my neck. “Like I said, chance has been controlling your path. I am going to change that, boy. I am going to make you something even more valuable. At least for me.”

“What do you mean?” I ask stepping away from the spooky stranger. My hands start to shake and my knees begin to tremble.

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“Just remember who I am. I am the leader of the Filches, a group of talented and educated adults who deserve to have it all. Chance has no effect on us.” The man takes out a machine. I have never seen something so strange looking in my entire life. Millions of lights and buttons cover the formidable mechanism, and a sharp point shines in the moonlight. I back away. “I will be the one on stage tomorrow, not you. My group members and I will rule the city.”

I gasp and try to run away from the man and his awful machine. I break free, but the man has me down in seconds. I am facing the ground, unaware of what the man is doing. “I am going to place a chip inside your brain and it will change you. It, and I, will be able to even control you. This chip will not be able to control your brain if you leave the city, but I will make sure that that never happens. I will transform you into something you should be.” I feel the tip of the machine scratch the back of my head. “A warning.”

I am alone. Standing in the middle of an empty street, feeling like tumbleweed. I feel no emotion, I just move with the wind.

A faint light from the sky is enough to touch my skin, but it is not enough to guide me. But right now I cannot use guidance. I am not allowed to use light either. I must float down the black and white street and show the faces at the window how strong our new rulers can be.

I have done this routine every night for the past week. I walk. I don’t talk and I don’t communicate with anyone in any way. I just move and do not do anything strange. Like tumbleweed. Faces at the window watch me as I float down the street, and people shudder and cry. Something about me seems to make them upset and sad, but I do not know what it is.

I stride down the misty road. The only sound on the street is the scraping of my feet stepping on the cement.

I look forward and spot a platform in the middle of the street. Something in my head tenses, as if I have seen something I should not have seen. I turn away from the abandoned stage and walk down another street.

Night fog and mist to envelope me as if I was part of the night as well. I silently walk, but something metal hits my head. I look down and see a locket. I spot a shadow run away and race inside a house. The person threw the locket at me. Something in my head tells me to keep on going, but I decide to look at the picture. It is a teenage girl. The same feeling I felt when I saw the stage fills my heart. Maribelle? I ask myself. I remember a girl in my past named Maribelle. Could this be her? Something in my body loosens and the unfamiliar idea of running free enters my brain. I start to imagine being away from this phantom-like darkness. Red blood starts pumping and beads of sweat drip down my face.

Run free.

I run without anything telling me to do otherwise. Shocked faces look out windows as I race to the gates.

The gates block me from my freedom. Once I pass those gates, their powers and technology will not be able to reach me. I run without anything telling me to do otherwise. Shocked faces look out windows as I race to the gates. The gates block me from my freedom. Once I pass those gates, their powers and technology will not be able to reach me.

As I rush to the fence, bitter memories from the day they captured me pop back into my head. I start to feel overwhelmed by the memories and ideas that are returning from a long, long nap. I finally remember how the citizens expected me to be their new leader. I was only a teenage boy, I overlooked a group of men named the Filches.

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They captured me and placed something foreign into my brain. I changed from being an inspiration to a warning, and now the people who once stood next to me hide from me. The people of this city fear me now.

I reach out to the metal bars and sense them getting closer and closer. I feel invisible ropes loosen around my ankles and wrists. The metal hate is only a centimeter away. It is only half a centimeter away. It is only quarter of a centimeter away. . . .

“Stop!” I hear a voice shout with immense volume. My heart starts to weep as I stare and the metal doorway that was waiting to be opened. “Don’t you dare open that door.”

I stare at the door, debating whether or not I should open it. Then, a pain, almost like a zap, strikes the back of my head. Invisible needles seem to prick my skull. I collapse and turn to see who is causing this gruesome pain and suffering.There is no one in front of me. I pat my face and realize that there are no needles. This is all in my head, I realize. I look around with my mouth wide open and my eyes dripping and sagging. All I see is a blurry, empty street. I pause and look up at the windows and the doorways that look face the street.

Millions of faces are watching me as if pain was a movie or some other type of stupid entertainment “Please,” I plead to the crowds. “Remember me?” I reach out my hand at the people. “I was there for you. I-” “Stop talking,” the voice orders inside my head. The pain gets stronger. “I am giving you a chance. If you calm down and obey us without us having to hurt you, then we will let you go. You have a lot of singleminded passion, and we do not like that. ” “I will make this emptiness a playground filled with life and comfort! I promise you all that, and all you have to do is carry me through the gate. What do you think?”

Silence. All of the faces stare at me as if I were a blank sheet of paper.

I raise my fist and breathe in. I will bring this desert the heart it once had, I say in my head as I prepare to say it to my audience.

I hesitate as a tingling feeling makes me shake and vibrate like a machine. I feel something, similar to a remote, take over again. The questions float away and I feel myself turning back into a museum display.

“Quick!” I scream to the confused faces. “I feel it coming! Quick! Qu-” “I’m coming!” I hear a voice scream. I look around for the voice and see a woman race towards me.

“Maribelle!” I cheer. She smiles and grabs my hand. “Thanks for coming back.”

“Of course, you are my brother.” Maribelle pulls my arm and drags me. I breathe faster as I sense the monster taking over again.

“Faster!” I scream frantically. Maribelle pulls harder. I try to crawl, but the pain that was once in my head is now everywhere. “Faster, faster, faster!”

“I’m trying,” Maribelle shouts back. “Almost there. . . .”

I close my eyes and everything turns black.

I rub my eyes and sit up. I look up. Clear, blue sky surrounds me. “Maribelle?” I call.

“Look, we crossed the gate,” my sister’s voice says behind me.

I sit up and gasp. Maribelle laughs beside me. “This is perfect,” I say. “Maribelle, we are free!”

Maribelle hugs me and points to the hundreds of joyful faces in front of me.

“We’re free!” I holler, fist in the air. I smile from ear to ear as all of the citizens jump and cry with happiness. ~The End~

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1,000+ Ways to Die

Illustration by Christina Kwon

Selections by Maddie Pintoff, 7th grade 1. Ate the inedible

2. Strangled at dinner by octopus sushi 3. Licked the unlickable 4. Used a malfunctioning stove 5. Barbecued by Trolls 6. Smushed by Ents 7. Tried to fly an open plane 8. Electrocuted by an invisible fence 9. Lost in the Caster Tunnels 10. Hit by the Tesseract 11. Overcome by aether 12. Struck by Lightning 13. Zombie Apocalypse 14. Licked the Smartboard 15. Sank the Unsinkable Ship 16. Got caught in Shelob’s web 17. Hit by whirling barrel-dwarf 18. Heart was cut out 19. Succumbed to dog allergies 20. Read the Terms & Conditions 10

Caesium

by Nolan Flynn, Grade 7 John Hammond was one of the most successful inventors of the late 20th century. After a particularly productive investment in a russian mining company, in 2004, he effectively vanished off the face of the earth. John Hammond was currently under a small town called Pripyat, which was about 20 miles away from Chernobyl.

By under, I mean a mineshaft tunnelling under the Chernobyl nuclear mower plant, which was shut down in 1985.

Hammond was staring intently at a very detailed map of the Chernobyl site, dated January 1985, along with his “lieutenant” Henry Grant. Grant was muttering, almost to himself, “Can’t be this open patch, we’ve already searched there. We only found diesel generators and xenon fuel. This patch here, theres nothing-” The head miner, Ivan, rushed in, clad in full lead gear and a hard hat,and after taking a moment to catch his breath, panted, “We found the waste dump. It’s in an underground chamber about 100 feet west of reactor 3.There aren’t any buildings near there besides the reactor.”

“Good job,” said Hammond. “I want your men to start putting the waste through the particle separator.”

The reason Hammond wanted the nuclear waste was because the element caesium can be found in nuclear waste. Caesium is an alkali metal. One of the best known properties of alkali metals is that they explode when they come in contact with water. Caesium is liquid or nearly liquid at room temperature. It is used as a lubricant for oil drills, and has a high price for that reason.

Later, a bit after the dinner meal, Ivan came came to Hammond’s office. Ivan said to him in a rushed voice, “Many of the workers won’t handle the waste. They’re complaining about giant bugs and tumors in their hands. None of those were actual tumors.”

Hammond said, without looking up from his work, “Tell them that the lead suits they’re wearing make the radiation no more dangerous than standing next to a kitchen microwave and that they won’t be paid if they don’t follow orders.”

Several weeks after Hammond found the waste, he and most of his workers were in a large, underground complex under the Vermont country club.The Vermont country club was one of the most prestigious country clubs in New England. Built on a thousand foot or so hill, it offered an amazing view of the mountains of Vermont and New Hampshire, which was one of the club’s main attractions. The club was acquired by John Hammond in 1986.

Grant said, “I’ve read every book in that library, and the TV’s broken. Can’t we go get some more books, or a new TV?” Hammond said in an aggravated tone, “I’ve told you a million times. We can’t buy anything. We have to stay hidden until we close the deal.”

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An alarm was blaring. The high pitched, monotone noise echoed in the closed rooms like a gunshot in a cave. Hammond was ru shing to the waste containment room along with Grant. Hammond said to Grant through the radios in their lead suits, “The leak should be in the pressure relief valves, right around here.”

Hammond and Grant started inspecting the valves one by one, until Grant radioed to Hammond, “Here it is. Valve D4, broken gasket. Radio up to Al to have someone come down here and fix it.”

Al Smith was their head maintenance person. He had started his own appliance repair store, which went bankrupt. It was then, when he was out of money, that Hammond hired him to do maintenance work.

After several minutes, Al and another worker came down and began to replace the gasket on the valve.

Several days later, Hammond, Grant and a few other systems managers were sitting around a folding card table, and they were playing a game of poker. Grant mumbled, “I was hired here to help do stuff, not waste the rest of my life playing poker.

Hammond replied, “You could go read a book or watch TV.” Hammond said in an aggravated tone, “I’ve told you a million times. We can’t buy anything. We have to stay hidden until we close the deal.”

If it hits the caesium, this whole place goes sky high!

Several weeks later, the same group of people were in the same room, sitting around the same folding card table. The only difference was that one of the monitors, the “waste separated” level was 91% and lunch was on the table instead of cards. Hammond was saying, “Anyone want to play a game of po-?”

Suddenly, a high powered alarm screamed from around the room. Grant ran from his place at the table to look at one of the monitors. Grant yelled to Hammond, “Main outbound pump failure! The system went to reserve pump.”

Hammond replied, “If that coolant pressure goes too high, the pipes will break. The coolant is just salt water. If it hits the caesium, this whole place goes sky high! If the caesium turns liquid, moisture on the coolant pipes could cause a small explosion and that could cause the pipes to break, with the same result!”

Hammond radioed to Al to get a group of men to the pumps and start fixing the pump. Grant, who had finished setting the system to run independently on the reserve pump, said to Hammond, “I told you we should have gotten more reliable pumps! These ones aren’t made for this kind of work.”

Hammond countered, “Those pumps are the best kind we could get without attracting attention. It’s illegal to have this caesium without a permit, and if the government got wind of it, we’d be put in jail. Same reason we’re using salt water, not better coolant.”

Grant went to check the rest of the systems. A few minutes after, Al radioed up that all systems were looking good, and to get the main pump running again. Grant flicked the switch to go back to full power on the main pump.

Al said, “Pump’s starting up. It should only take a minute or two.” Suddenly, a loud bang reverberated throughout the complex. An alarm went off. This one was a wailing alarm. Grant cursed, and yelled, “Pipe 12

crack!” A second alarm started going off. “Pressure loss in the pipes!” Grant yelled. Finally, a third alarm went off. This alarm was louder, meaner. This alarm said that everything is going to stop. The evacuation alarm.

After a moment of stunned silence, Hammond said in a hoarse voice, “Let’s get out of here.” A deep rumbling started shaking the building. Grant yelled, “Let’s go! The building’s going up!” One giant explosion blew through the building and the hill the Vermont Country Club was built on exploded.

Police Chief Blore stood with his partner, Lieutenant Ryan, on the hill where the Vermont Country Club once stood. Blore said, “It looks like there was a giant caesium explosion from this evidence. Tons of burned caesium, twisted bits of scrap metal. It looks like the explosion came from a tank inside the mountain. That’s all nice and pretty, but why did he have the caesium?” Ryan said, “No idea.” They stood for a minute, thinking. Ryan’s phone suddenly rang, surprising them both. He answered, his face going from thoughtful to confused to very excited. He hung up hsatily and said in an excited tone, “Diane called. They found records of a deal for several thousand pounds of caesium. Totally illegal, all done under the radar.”

Blore said “So that’s why he had the caesium. No wonder the whole mountainside got blown out. 5000 lbs. would take out nearly anything.”

Ryan said, “Alrighty. That’s that investigation. Let’s go back to the station and I’ll make a cup of coffee.” ~The End~

Photo by Jake Weinstein

Acceptance

by Spencer Chemtob, 7th grade If you run from the past You will never know what was supposed to come last.

You might think that we are afraid But we still have to be brave So don’t attack us for being scared Because one day you will be here like Us You will be the last one Running from the past Join us now and we might forgive you Curse us and you will regret it

Gone at Lost

By Charlotte Jones, 8th grade i remember how you always held my hand said we’d be together for ever and ever so i’d clumsily write our names in the sand the thought of us ending had come up—never i accidentally/always smiled at your sight and giggled when you smeared your smirks i did this all in oblivious delight admiring your perfect imperfect quirks i used to always catch your eye you seemed to always blush away i cannot understand the why your sparkle turned to gray Though uncertainly content, i try to pretend That i know all good things must come to an end 14

Illustration by Teji Vijayakumar

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The Creature

by Maddie Pintoff, 7th grade Long spidery legs like paper mache Long, thin gangly arms He crawls towards me like a huge demented crab, His breath putrid.

Don’t you want to be happy? He drawled out the -y Voice like sandpaper grating against a rail His lanky body loomed over me in lust N-no, I stuttered, groping around for anything as a weapon Fine, he hissed, crawling towards me.

He grabbed me in his decaying rancid arms and shook me.

Come! You and I shall conquer!

I closed my eyes and thought of what my wife Anna would say.

I could imagine her shaking her head With her honey blonde hair.

There she is now!

Only …

She’s dead.

Died in the corner before me, As he pitched forward with visor like claws And drove them into her chest.

She gurgled up blood, her last word: Run. So I ran Deep into the forest thick I was fast, but he was faster.

He grabbed me and cradled me back to that dreaded house!

I punched him He screamed — a high-pitched wailing sound As abruptly my victory came, Its benefits were fleeting.

He constricted his body around me Hissing like a snake “You will pay for that, mortal,” he growled.

Black spots danced before me, taunting me with their songs.

It cackled as they multiplied, their dance turning into a ball “Ta Ta troublesome mortal.”

His final words to me echoed As the spots multiplied and multiplied and clouded my vision over And then— ~Fin~

Hidden Secrets

by Juliet Schulman-Hall, 8th grade Tink. Her name was Madison White.

She was five.

She wanted something to believe in.

She wore a purple necklace.

Each purple bead attached to one and another.

With a Tinkerbell figure connected.

She wanted just a secret, and for this necklace to be it.

A special thing that nobody knew about.

Hidden under the layers of clothes, covering her secret.

As she grew older new things, new fashions came‌..

One day she came across the worn down necklace with the bell attached to it still.

She was fourteen.

She did not remember.

All of the memories.

What it was.

Just goes to show, Our deepest thoughts and memories can, in fact, be lost.

Yet there is also discouragement.

From outsiders, From them knowing everything.

It was her secret to keep.

She became Tink.

She always had been, but never knew.

` Illustration by Valerie Edelman 17

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The Art of the Bacon, Egg, and Cheese

by Eytan Stanton, 7’th Grade

In this school, the bacon egg and cheese is no joke. It’s not just a sandwich, it’s an institution. There are thousands of varieties as to how other foods are made. The varieties range from era to era or region to region. As far as I’m concerned, for bacon egg and cheese, there are only two ways you can make it: the Chef Paul way, or the Chef Jeff way. Fortunately for me, I was able to taste both types. For kids in grades still to come, I will pass down the memory of the bacon egg and cheese à la Chef Paul.

He doesn’t ask you what you want. Instead, he gives a look that asks the question for him. You have to speak loudly so he can hear you; the sizzling of the eggs is pretty loud. Just smile and yelp “Bacon egg and cheese” as loudly as you can muster. He can be a little intimidating, so the first time it may sound like this, “uhh, me? Ya, I’ll have a b-b-bacon egg and cheese on a r-roll…please.” Do not worry. This is perfectly normal.

Eventually you won’t have to even say what you want, he will know. After decades of “bacon egg and cheesing”, he has mastered the art. Left hand behind the back, right hand cracking the egg. Plop, plop. Two eggs sizzling on the grill in five seconds. Then comes what I call “the third hand,” aka, the spatula. After fifteen seconds, he breaks the yolks of the egg with his third hand so the yolk will cook through. Another fifteen seconds later, five small, shriveled strips of bacon go on top of the still uncooked egg. The bacon is always evenly spread out so no matter how little you get, it seems as if you have just enough. In a matter of seconds, the bacon glistens and smokes. The third hand emerges once more to flip the eggs. Five seconds more and the American cheese goes on and melts into its eggy, bacony-y bed. Next, our veteran chef viciously tears the poppy seed roll into two halves, and deftly, he plops the bacon egg and cheese onto the bottom half.

On goes the top and voila! You’ve got a Chef Paul bacon egg and cheese. Make sure you don’t wander away during this spectacle. It’s worth seeing, and it is imperative that you be nearby when your sandwich is ready.

Once you’ve got it, breathe a sigh of relief, go to the nice lady at the register, and happily give her your $2.50.

I have had only a couple of Chef Jeff ’s breakfasts, and hundreds—nay, millions of Chef Paul’s, so I am not one to judge….yet. Nonetheless, I will try. In general, Chef Jeff ’s approach is quite different. As opposed to Chef Paul’s one-handed trick, Chef Jeff uses both hands to gently crack the eggs. Both chefs toss the egg shell remains into the garbage like they are shooting hoops. Jeff lets the egg yolks cook way longer than Paul does before he breaks them. This technique makes the egg juicier in the end. Jeff is much more generous with the bacon, which is always a good thing. I am afraid, though, that this generosity will soon vanish as time passes. Frankly, all that bacon seems too good to be true on such a large scale. Then, as opposed to just dropping the cheese onto the eggs, Jeff purposely makes a flat “nest” of the eggs so the he can fold the ends over the melted cheese he places on top, thus creating somewhat of a cheesy filling your sandwich.

While the egg is cooking, Chef Jeff butters up the bread of your choice and lets it toast next to the egg. He first places the top bread over the egg and lets it cook for a couple more seconds. Then he places the egg and bread top into the bottom piece of bread. His sandwiches are much more crisp, dense, and bacon filled.

Chef Paul’s are more fluffy, eggy and a bit dry.

Now that I have properly educated you, you are left with one question: which bacon, egg and cheese reigns supreme? In my view, it’s hard to beat a memory, so I can leave you with just one answer: the world may never know.

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Sea Cucumber

by Nathaniel Oakes, 6th Grade Behold, a sea cucumber, resting in the sea— You’re so mysterious; what do you look at?

What do you do? Do you have a degree?

Can you move? Do you breathe? Are you always so flat?

Have you no pals, or is your best friend A fish that swims above, in the ocean?

Perhaps he swims below—perhaps he’s pretend.

Are you irked? Does your kind feel emotion?

Scavenger on the ocean’s sandy floor, You beast of such stunning anatomy— You’d do so much, if only you’d explore The ocean’s limitless capacity.

Dear, dear, sea cucumber, such majesty Coursing through the hidden ocean, valiantly!

Illustration by Trevor Simon

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Sonnet

by Abigail Whitter, 6th Grade Shall I take sides between you and the world, Because that is what all the poets say; Say you are lovely, like a flower twirled, And more exquisite than a sunny day.

But please, do not be in a puzzling whirl, For those are very unreal descriptions.

Because: are you really the loveliest girl?

Are your eyes wide and blue, your lips crimson?

Oh yes, I know how the truth can be; So mysterious, with no rhythmic applause; However, I do know it’s for the best, And that he loves you even with your flaws.

No, you are not like the summer’s day.

No, you are not the darling buds of May.

Illustration by Valerie Edelman

Inside and Out

by Meagan Campbell, 6th grade

On the surface it seems calm and silent, But don’t let it trick you like it did me, For underneath it is an angry tyrant, Down in the depths of the great blue sea.

It roars and turns and twists and splashes, Sharks attack and gulp down bloody meat, At the base of a rock a wave crashes, And the predators search for fish to eat.

Down below it swirls and yells and rumbles, It hurts, it aches, it is angry inside But on the outside it sits and mumbles, Nothing crashes, a wave, a tide.

Not only is this about the ocean, But a poor girl with lots of emotion.

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To contribute to Crossroads, submit your work to the editor at cboyajian@riverdale.edu Illustration by Elon Collins