L Y R E
2015
LYRE STAFF Co-Editors in Chief: Srihari Korrapati Breuna Westry
Editors:
Rickeia Coleman Ian Ottinger Elizabeth Kuehne Levi Thompson Phillip Lazich Dillon Roaf Bryan Recile GiGi Herberg Austin White Gabe Rodriguez
Special Thanks to the Art Department Leslie Gamble and Allison Thomas and to our Fearless Captain Christopher Shipman Cover Art: Kailee Gibson, ‘16
Snowflakes Hudson Fein ‘28
I am unique like a snowflake because I can hold a lot of pencils in one hand.
Colin Lawler ‘28
I am unique like a snowflake because I am a good sharer.
Fiona Segar ‘28
I am unique like a snowflake because I can make a really long train that whistles.
Gigi Gsell ‘28
I am unique like a snowflake because I can whistle.
Darrel Smith ‘28
I am unique like a snowflake because I can wear really big earmuffs.
1
Chopping Wood
Elizabeth Kuehne, ‘18 Christmas morning is white with silence You both groan when I wake you Breaking through the opaque quiet And roll lazily from bed We drive to the barn slowly So we don’t skid on icy dirt roads All three of us in the front seats The heater blasts But not even the slightest warmth Seeps from the vents We load the truck up with axes Too sluggish to deal with chainsaws And drive up the hill An hour later the truck bed is filled With dead cedar logs The scent cutting through the frozen air You argue over who will drive I stay out of it Knowing your brotherly instincts After handling the slippery roads Back at the cabin Mom and dad are still asleep We load the fireplace with dead cedar Start the fire And pull chairs close Sharing a blanket We watch the golden glow Until our eyes burn Christmas morning work is the best work 2
Lemonoma
Austin White, ‘16 Not a pear tree grew in the manure of the land that bore boringly bitter snake-venom lemons. The tennis ball skin a more vibrant shade than the malnourished freckles of laborers. The boss man’s fingers grew barnacle green— too many pennies and nickels tossed to the pigeons. The evaporation of sweat rained saltwatery down which only made the prized lemons even more mouth puckering. And with children glued to the ground from heatstroke, parents planted lemon seedlings that drained the nutrients from their unsmiling corpses. Card games and fire pit shadows couldn’t blind the sight of my land. No mirages grasped our gaze. And our first sugar pear left sweet burning holes in our tongues.
3
Forest
Dillon Roaf, ‘17 I am Robin. I wake up every day in my nest. Alone. I fly down to the forest where I am greeted by Fox, my favorite animal. After I meet Fox, I hunt. The ground is riddled with juicy worms. I Kill them. After I am full,I return to my nest for the best rest. I wake late at night to hear the Owl. He sounds like he is searching for someone. But who? who? who? I am Fox. I wake up every day in my den. Alone. I walk below to the great trees where I am greeted by Robin, my favorite bird. She talks to me, and I talk back. Each in a different language. But somehow we understand each other. After I am greeted by Robin, I hunt. The ground is riddled with rabbits and fruits. I Kill them. After I am full, I return to my den for sleep until morning.The nights are cold. I am Worm. I am woken up every day by the noise of Robin. She kills my brothers every morning. For some reason she spares me. Why? I
try
to
get
whatever
sleep
I
can.
I’m a worker for the forest destruction program. I’ve already killed countless birds and foxes. We begin our tree-chopping today.
4
Grendel’s First Question Ian Ottinger, ‘16
The sun strikes down like tiny needles, but I’m used to it. . With every step I take I crush something under my foot. Why does everything I touch die? The wind is annoying. It blows my hair and always gets in my way. As I find shade I feel relieved. The tall tree I crouch under protects me from the sun and wind, and I can fully open my eyes. I lean on a tree and notice it start to break. Why does everything I touch die? I walk away quickly to not break the tree and expose myself to the sun again. When I inhale all I can smell is smoke mixed with a hint of pine and oak. The pleasing smell of the trees is not enough to distract me from the screams of men. They’re fighting again. Everything they touch dies.
Iris Mire, ‘15 5
No Gummi Worms for a “Hero” Austin White, ‘16
Minute Maid Pink Lemonade Made with REAL lemons Trolli squiggles Make your day Both bought up at Hunt’s Gas Station Daylight Spending Day Less Sunlight Day You on the tracks that day Like a name Like Michael Virgil like Your name Easy to drink like Pink Lemonade I ran over Trolli squiggles None left In the plastic bag Plastic Day Pushed out the way You went to East Jeff. Tried to die That day sorry I did that You were dazed You were saved You posted on Facebook Never brought up Your pain I Read it all your entire life Didn’t comment Yesterday didn’t like Like Minute Maid Which is just ok
6
Customer Service
Collaborative poem by Cheyenne Dwyer ’16, Javier Torres ’23, George Mueller ’23, Justin Hall ’23, Olivia Merington ’23, and Caroline Spears ‘23 An Oreo is in a supermarket. He gets bought by Joe. The Oreo gets dropped into Joe’s super dimensional machine and turns into… SUPEROREO!!! Just as this happens a pack of flying chipmunks appear. They start bombing the city with explosives nuts. SUPEROREO uses his ice cream Gatling guns to put out the explosions; he hurls CP G-15 cookie propelled grenades. Chipmunks perish. Remaining chipmunks start to glow and mesh together to form a giant mutant chipmunk! It grabs the Eiffel Tower and uses it as a lance against SUPEROREO. SUPEROREO defeats him and is crowned king of England! And Joe goes home happy.
7
Emoji Translation Poem Ben Bone, ‘19
I live in a forest of slowly beaten down Fast food joints The boys love food, and love the houses Loving us Hiding in the night I sneak a picture of him Wait for him to stop being a monster And bring me a flower All I want is him Three blue hats Green shoes and a blue moon But our love is a bomb A girl sitting alone painting her nails Just waiting for someone to have fun with As I sit here like a ghost on my birthday No one hears my claps As I sit here like a ghost on my birthday No one hears my claps
8
Ghost Stories: #13 Jack Flanagan, ‘25
A very spooky and scary ghost went into a really spooky and scary house. In that house there were some skeletons. There was another ghost too. He was sitting in an old chair.The other ghost sat down but he sat on the wrong chair. He sat on a new chair. When he sat on the chair he fell right through!
Firefighter Stories: #7 Anisha Mitra, ‘25
Do you know anything about a firefighter? Well, if you don’t, let me tell you. Firefighters save your life. If we didn’t have them, we wouldn’t be here right now. This is how they put out fires: First, they get the hose attached to the fire hydrant. Next, they check to see if anyone is still in the house. If there is they go in and get them. Last, once everybody is out of the house, they put out the fire. I’m so glad I told you this.
Astronaut Stories: #9 Cole LaCoste, ‘25
If I were an astronaut, I would see the planets. It would be fun. I would feel myself floating on the moon. If I were an astronaut, I would hear sounds coming from the computer. I would smell the food floating in the air.
9
Gravity
Christian Rice, ‘17 It holds me down. I heard it say, “I’m the one that’s gonna hold you down, I’m the one that’s gonna hold you down.” I told gravity, “I’m on my way,” but it still held me down. Gravity was my friend, gravity was my enemy. Gravity was my mother, gravity was my father. Gravity was my murderer.
The New Moon Andy Chen, ‘16
The night extinguished the final light. I opened the window slowly. Relying on the light of the moon, I stared down the distance. It’s so perplexing to even look at stars. Cold wind blew against my face. “Come home! Come home!” I heard my name called out by someone. I could smell the fragrant flowers. I could taste the flavor of the clay. A familiar feeling came to my mind, but I couldn’t recognize where I was. I reached my arm out to embrace the new life, praying that everything would be better and better.
10
Celebrity Status Lupa, ‘20
Smile to the moon. He smiles back. Look at the stars... “Do you wanna play? You can play with us if you can. You want to play with the little stars.” They seem friendly. You decide to jump. You jump once, to no avail. The stars are too high. You jump once more. Taunting you... “Hey, friend! Jump up here!” Once. Twice. Three times, Whoops. You jumped too high. Now, you’re a star.
11
The Struggle of Modern Plant Srihari Korrapati, ‘15
Light. Pigments capture it.
Photosystem pig and proteins cap light.
Light, excited electrons.
Water split,
O release!
H accumulating stroma and electron chlorophyll
for continuous supply.
Electron sent to ETC.
This powers proton pump, pumps H in stroma to thylakoid space
Makes ATP.
ATP
synth pumps out again.
12
He Created a Monster Philip Lazich, ‘17
One quiet afternoon in Heaven a little girl knocked on Heaven’s door. She had nothing but a teddy bear tucked safely under her arm. God opened the door, curious as to why the little girl was there. The shy little girl needed a home so God took her in like she was one of his own. God offered her some new clothes. The little girl approached the clothes awkwardly but didn’t feel it was right to take them. She expressed to God that she felt guilty taking the clothes and God replied that anything that belonged to him now belonged to her. After a few months the little girl was still shy, she still felt awkward about using God’s belongings, and she still carried her teddy bear around, feeling as if it was all she had. After a year, she started to get out of her comfort zone, which made God happy, but she also demanded that he cook her favorite meal every day, which was steak, and that was expensive. God started to think that she had become spoiled and blamed himself for never laying down the law.
Elizabeth Kuehne, ‘18 13
Emoji Less than or Equal to Sonnet 130 Sarah Millican, ‘18
Girl eyes no sun; lipstick greater than girls’ lips; snow greater than girl girl equals black dot hair eyes rose and white dot, no rose equals girl; wind equals happy face greater than girl sick face. heart ear less than music notes thumbs up; eyes not see angel; girl equals walking man prayer hands, heart girl, blonde girl, black haired girl heart equals girl.
Jordan Fresneda, ‘15 14
Lauren Monier, ‘22 Mathew Varon, ‘22
15
Seth Mayeaux, ‘24
Will Sossaman, ‘24
16
Kaitlyn Hall, ‘24
Riley Velasquez, ‘24
17
Clare Brierre, ‘15
18
Jordan Fresneda, ‘15
19
Iris Mire, ‘15
20
Sofia Ungarino, ‘15
21
Iris Mire, ‘15 22
Bonnie Cash, ‘15 23
Camryn Lafleur, ‘22
Colin Saucer, ‘22
24
Katie Main, ‘22
Taylor Stokes, ‘22
25
Jordan Fresneda, ‘15
26
Levi Thompson, ‘15
27
Will Dean, ‘15 Jaclyn Murphy, ‘16
28
Natasha Salas, ‘20 Rodney Rice, ‘15
29
Jaclyn Murphy, ‘16
Jaclyn Murphy, ‘16
30
Elena Andry, ‘15
Travis Adolph, ‘15
31
Kailee Gibson, ‘16
32
Kailee Gibson, ‘16 33
Levi Thompson, ‘15
34
Emoji Less Than or Equal to Sonnet 130 John Hurly, ‘18
Sun equals dark moon Red rose greater than lips Snowflake bikini chicken leg Dark moon noodles Red rose less than sad face Lollipop Santa Claus Vomiting monkey poop blind monkey Pizza hamburger fries fried shrimp Music music music microphone Music happy face Angel equals sad face Bus truck truck mini-van
Angel heart thumbs down Lady disagreeing love
35
no love
Live the Dream Queen Jonafa, ‘16
Don’t give in to that Thug Life, it don’t cost nothing but half ya life. In the pen, sitting there for a nickel times ten. Since when was being a man considered a man sitting in the pen? I’m not a man but even I know what makes you one: raising children, earning money, getting your schooling in. Men always trying to act hard, but know they have a soft spot under that strong guard. Why don’t young girls have fathers? Last time I checked there’s no dance called mother-daughter. Barber shops filled with women, because the men of boys’ lives have hidden, now let me take a spin on our women. Why do we show more than we cover? It takes the focus from our minds to a focus on what is under. It hurts to see those who can slay with some weave, because then those fools start to criticize and demean. Natural hair is endless beauty since the beginning of days, we should embrace all kinds of kinks, curls and waves. The term nappy hair shouldn’t be used, no one can change the hair that God has produced. Every shade of brown is a blessing, I guess God waking us up this morning isn’t a lesson. Medium, dark, light tone or bright, it all looks fine once it comes to the light. Our people have to change, our minds need to recover. Our hatred towards each other is what lands us 6 feet under. Reunite these communities. Too many “holy” matrimonies reek of infidelity. It starts with education, love, and voting faithfully. 36
When faced with police injustice, learn to answer carefully. Discover what’s hidden in the books that we should read. Study our history. Since schools keep it a mystery. Pick up the Word and then read HIS story. It’s amazing what we can be. Once we act on what we believe. Malcolm X, MLK, and President Kennedy, All are great men whose dreams are still not reality.
Iris Mire, ‘15
37
Juana Betrayed Clara Conatser, ‘21
Kino surveyed the charred ruins of his home; Juana stood beside him, but her face displayed no emotion. She knew that while destroying a house, even a brush house, was an unspeakable crime, she and Kino could do nothing about this or any of the other tragedies they had experienced. The cruel society in which they lived had controlled them, but they had given it the power to destroy them. The town’s paws had played with Kino and Juana as if they were prey, but Kino, who had led the family, had given it complete power to manipulate their family, to force them out of their home, ultimately resulting in the death of his son. Judging from the dark circles around her eyes, Juana knew only too well how cruel men, especially the pale-faced ones in their town, could be. Kino could tell that she had been thinking of Coyotito. He also noticed that she was expecting another child. “You are with child?” He asked her quietly, though Kino knew the answer. “Yes,” she replied and turned away. Juana imagined Coyotito, only this time he was replaced with another infant, a daughter. The child was beautiful, but Juana sensed that something major clouded her future. She remembered Coyotito’s death, caused by the rifle that Kino had dreamed of. This notion triggered an inner declaration: I will protect this child! Juana decided not to confide in Kino after all of the disappointing decisions that he’d made about the pearl, his delirium. He had not allowed her to throw the pearl into the sea—Juana was certain that Kino regretted his decision. And she was also certain that Kino himself would vow to protect this child as he had Coyotito. Juana’s ears rang with the gun shot that had taken the life of her son; she promised herself that she would sacrifice her life before letting this child die. Her doubt in Kino was growing minute by minute, and Juana imagined Kino slowly growing mad in the shadows of their home. But Kino was constructing their new home now, and Juana knew that she should be a fool to distract Kino from his strenuous activity. Juana began to pace among the bushes, her worry for her child clouding her vision. The sight that awaited Juana’s eyes nearly took her breath 38
away. Kino had finished the construction of the house, and he surveyed it proudly. It was much more elegant than their previous home, Juana noticed; it stood like a pine tree among bushes. Juana approached him and murmured, “What are your reasons for building such a beautiful house?” She knew that Kino was a primitive man and indulged in nothing, except perhaps silly fanciful ideas like that of becoming rich because of a pearl. Kino’s gaze was as cold as ice. “We shall be attacked,” he declared. “I feel it in my blood. Everyone is against us.” But Juana did not believe this. “We are safe here,” she replied with confidence. A fortnight had passed, and both Kino and Juana knew that the baby would be born soon. But Juana could not rest as Kino suggested. At midnight, after hours of waiting, the child was born. Immediately after Juana admired her daughter’s face, she knew that something was terribly wrong. A gray film was thick over the child’s eyes; Juana understood what this meant even without a doctor. “Kino!” She gasped. “The child is blind!” Kino raced into the room, a murderous rage in his eyes. “What?” He shrieked. “The child is dead?” He could barely steady himself against the bed. “The child is blind,” Juana repeated. Upon seeing the confused gaze in Kino’s eyes, she added, “She cannot see.” The look in Kino’s eyes was perhaps worse than it had been moments ago. His eyes were not fiery with anger but icy with disappointment. “How can this be?” he sighed. And Juana knew that in Kino’s mind, a blind child was as good as dead. But to Juana, her daughter’s blindness did not in any way decrease her adoration for her; quite the opposite. So when Kino stalked out of the room she felt no anger but was simply determined to prove her daughter’s importance in their family to Kino. But Juana barely had time to admire her new daughter; unfamiliar shadows crossed the house. Suddenly, Juana understood Kino’s fear. “The white men!” She gasped. “The pale ones! Kino, I am helpless!” Hurriedly, Kino raced into the room. “Leave the child!” He shouted. “You and I must go.” “No!” Juana insisted. “My daughter will not be murdered by the hands of these filthy white men, just like my son! She will survive. If you leave the child, you will find that you are also lacking a wife.” 39
Juana could see Kino’s heart and mind battling one another. Finally, his forceful mind won this fight. “If you shall not stay with me, you shall die,” he snapped. Kino was growing desperate. This daughter would never help him; she was worthless. But Juana was not. Seeing that Juana stayed on the bed, Kino peered out of the door. He could see their fiery weapons gleaming in the shadows. Suddenly, a sense of fear swept over him. Kino unbarred the windows, and raced outside. “I cannot die with you,” he shouted. “You shall die alone.” And he left Juana and her daughter.
Gershom Thompson, ‘17
Gershom Thompson, ‘17
40
Misogyny
Cheyenne Dwyer, ‘16 I was thinking about her And drew a picture She bobbed to the background Of a blue sky Kept afloat By large gray wings Held down Wrapped around her ankle Red sewing string Tied to the large pumping muscle Of her husband’s forearm Fire, scissors, time Will fray The string that ties fate
Ancestor
Daisha Milan Calliet, ‘17 I find comfort in the melanin of her skin Strength in the coils of her hair Peace in the rhythm of her heart Protection in the soundness of her chest Redemption in the fire in her eyes Pride in the cadence of her voice Persistence in the ache of her joints She is my ancestor and when she sings, freedom rings
41
from: Hand-Me Downs Elizabeth Kuehne, ‘18 Every hour was a miracle for Adeline. She sat in her bed with shaky hands and sleepy eyes. Her daughter and son-in-law sat to her right, their fingers wrapped over one another’s. Her daughter, Maggie’s face was stern as she occasionally swatted her husband’s arm away during his attempts to curl her in the nook of his elbow. Danny, her grandson, was standing to her left. Sadness and fear trickled from behind his deep blue eyes. He averted his gaze from his grandmother, slightly easing the pain of the image of her wan skin and restless fingers. Danny looked over at a picture on the bedside table of Adeline and his grandfather. Her hand was on top of her husband’s, showing off a glimmering wedding ring. The black and white picture would never capture the full beauty of the silver loop. Danny picked up the picture and tilted it towards the window to capture some more light. He smiled weakly at his grandmother’s blonde curls revealing the handsome smile he shared with his grandfather. Years ago, his grandmother had promised him the ring. Adeline and he had been reading together. Danny’s mother and father were engaging in a screaming and throwing match downstairs which collided into a storm of crashing pots and his father’s booming voice. His grandmother had been trying to speak over it, and gave up. She had took Danny’s hands in hers and told him that if he promised to be in a happy relationship, and God forbid he end up like his parents, that he could have her ring to give to his wife. Danny had just assumed his grandmother had forgotten about her promise after so many years. Tears welled in Danny’s eyes at the memory. A small, calloused fingertip passed over his cheek. “I’m not dead yet darling.” She said with a hint of a sympathetic smile. “Mother...” Maggie groaned. “Maggie! Does the thought of me living really merit a groan?” Adeline’s sarcastic tone was thick but unnoticed by Maggie. “No! It’s just...” Maggie’s mother placed her hand on top of her daughter’s. “Just a bit of death-bed humor dear.” Maggie sighed at hermother’s words. Adeline looked to Danny who was trying to repress a smile. 42
His and his grandmother’s humor had always been in sync much to his mother’s despair. The one rule Adeline had given Danny during his summers at her house when he was young was that he mustn’t ever mistake her wit for vulgarity. Adeline started coughing more and more throughout the hour. Her breath became more and more strained, her hands twisted in her lap and her face was pursed in agony. As the end of the hour had approached, she had fallen to sleep lying on her side towards Danny. He had taken both of her balled up hands in his. He watched her chest rise and fall with each strenuous breath. Until there were no more. Danny’s tears spilled from his eyes. He clutched her small hands in his. He arched over and his shoulders shook with silent sobs. After some time like this, he lifted his head from her side. His eyes and face were red and wet with tears. His parents had left the room; it was just him and his grandmother. After a moment, Danny stood from the chair. He gently rolled her onto her back. He placed her balled hands on her stomach and flattened them out. Leaning down to kiss her cheek, he took in the smell of lemon-verbena and lavender. To him, it was the most comforting smell in the world. He took her hand in his and said a few words to her. As Danny placed her hand back on her stomach, he noticed a silver, sapphire, and diamond ring under her hand. She hadn’t forgotten.
43
Old Address
Kyla Bernberg, ‘15 The slobber-stained couch Indented with the ghost of a teenage body Holds together I don’t know how The African statues Maintain mundane facial expressions But the fedoras and baseball caps That live on their heads Tell the audience Ordinary is a foreign concept Painted-over graffiti Still speaks Reminds us This ain’t no 5-star establishment The backyard worn with champion nights Laughs at the fence Smacked with blue handprints While an air mattress drifts In the coffin-shaped pool Many kids crashed at 2123 And even the squatter, Steve Made himself at home Yet, Nobody understands the soul Laying beneath The floorboards that won’t save a fall The thin layers of dirt Pasted on that horrible yellow of a house
44
from: The
Lost Chapters of The Catcher in the Rye Sarah Millican, ‘18
After walking back all the way from the park to my apartment, I was so cold that I was almost happy to get back home. This was a lot to say considering that my parents were gonna go crazy when they found out I’d been given the boot at Pencey. The one thing I really was happy to see though was old Phoebe. That was probably the one thing I missed most while I was gone, and maybe the only thing. As I got to the floor of my apartment, I started thinking about how I dropped the record I was supposed to give to Phoebe. This got me really heated too because I’m always wrecking things. I really am. And the worst part is, she would’ve really liked it too and now I have nothing to give her. When I got to the door of my apartment, I almost turned around and went back to the park or something. The only thing stopping me was that I only had 3 dollars and had no where to sleep, but I wouldn’t even have minded finding some bench to sleep on at the park if I wasn’t scared I’d freeze to death. Just imagine if some moron went to go walk his dog in the morning or something and found a dead guy just lying on the bench. That killed me. So, I had no choice but to just go into the apartment. I figured I’d just be really quiet when I walked in and go talk to Phoebe for a while. I knew she’d be asleep, but I was hoping she missed me so much she wouldn’t mind. I did my best to keep quiet as I walked in. I found Phoebe passed out on the bed just like I expected, but right after I walked in I accidentally knocked into her bookcase and made a huge racket you could probably hear from two countries away. Right after I did that her little red head popped up so fast you couldn’t even imagine. “Holden!” she screeched, “You’re home early! They must have kicked you out again, huh?” I really wish she wouldn’t talk so loud because I was pretty sure she woke up the entire apartment and probably the one next to ours. I just sort of casually nodded because then she might not make such a big deal. Sure enough, within probably the next 2 minutes my mom walks in the room. When she saw me, she just sort of sat there kind of stunned. She looked real disappointed to see me. She had that look on her face you get when your favorite radio show gets canceled or something. I really should have waited it out. 45
Jeffrey
Austin White, ‘16 and Elizabeth Kuehne, ‘18 There once was a pair of eyes attached to two legs. The pair of eyes attached to two legs was named Jeffrey. And like everyone else, Jeffrey was looking for something… What Jeffrey hoped to find was other body parts so he could enjoy the world. He wanted a mouth So he could eat pizza and speak of his adventures. He wanted a nose so he could smell the dandy dandelions. He wanted ears so he could hear the jamming jazz. He wanted hands so he could hold someone else’s hands… But Jeffrey couldn’t find these things and Jeffrey was sad So he walked and searched for years and years… And at the end of all his travels he finally realized that trash cans and buildings… and snow cones and water fountains and flower pots and tree houses… and parking lots and mountains didn’t have eyes or legs… and they couldn’t move or see the world around them. Jeffrey knew then just how lucky he was to have eyes and legs. And if he had a mouth Jeffry would have smiled at this realization. Yes, those eyes and legs named Jeffry would have smiled.
46
Greasy Fingers Grayson Doyle, ‘18
As little Billy watched Finding Nemo on his Leapster on the road trip to Disney World, he munched on a Snickers bar. He did this to tune out his father’s silly stories about Billy’s uncle, and his sisters bickering about school. As he finished his Snickers, he licked his chocolate- covered lips, sucked on his greasy fingers one by one, and tossed the wrapper out the window. The wrapper floated on the wind for a bit, until a red convertible sped by, and the wrapper stuck right on the driver’s face, blinding him. The split second it took for the man to remove his hands from the wheel to remove the wrapper from his face was enough to steer him off course, into oncoming traffic. Later at Disney World, Billy found he was nervous about riding the rides so he sat off for a few. While the rest of his family was riding Space Mountain, Billy heard his mother’s phone ring. He answered and was stunned to hear that his uncle had died in a trafic accident.
47
Tim: the Color-Coded King of Mars Jason Bremermann, ’15, and Nathan Fernandez, ‘15
There was Tim… And Tim was never able to find anyone Whose fur matched the color of his own. He traveled across the world in search of his purple mate. He biked along the Rockies’ roads… But only the ice cream clouds matched his fur’s fluffy color. He took a tour along the Great Wall of China But aside from the broken glass he found nothing. He scaled the leaning tower of Pizza And even from that great height he saw no one like him. Everywhere Tim went he was mocked for being alone… Everyone here was Magenta… Everyone there was Burgundy… “Maybe there’s no one in the world for me,” Tim thought. Then an idea came to Tim… “Maybe not on this world but on another!” Tim ran to the nearest spaceport And hitched a ride to Mars, The land of candy bars! When he landed on Mars He searched around for someone like him…
48
But, alas, everyone everywhere was Fuschia…. Still, Tim walked along the surface of Mars. And Tim soon noticed he was getting some peculiar looks… They weren’t looks of disgust, however. The people of Mars looked at him with intrigue… After a while the people crowded around Tim And demanded he be sent to their queen. When Tim entered the palace the first thing he noticed was the queen’s fur. It was purple just like his! Tim asked, “Why are you the only purple person on Mars?” In the loveliest voice Tim had ever heard the Queen replied, “I fled from my home to find my match… The Martians were so intrigued with my color they made me their queen.” The Queen blushed a purple blush at Tim’s colorful smile And glanced at the vacant throne next to her own… And that’s how Tim became the King of Mars.
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Meowbert the Cat, his Flying, Dubstep Anteater named Penelope, and his Magical Kitty Adventures Natalia Bourg, ‘19
Meowbert, after gulping down his jellybean stew, decided to take a ride on his fluffy companion, Penelope, the flying, dubstep anteater. As Penelope made her awesome music, they frolicked down the path leading out of the cozy mountain village where they had lived on for as long as they could remember. Meowbert had found Penelope intertwined in the branches of a gum-ball tree after the horrible troll attack had reeked havoc upon the mountain settlements. (She had just started learning to fly, and got stuck trying to escape.) Anyway, it was getting dark now as the 3rd afternoon star started disappearing and made way for the first and smallest moon. Using his intuition, Meowbert decided it was best to camp out for the night rather than risk going back to the village and being mauled by were-squirrels, vampire caterpillars, or franken-coons. Though these creatures all posed a possible threat, the only thing Meowbert was truly afraid of was the Grandpincher. The Grandpincher was a legendary creature who had been said to lurk in the forests surrounding the villages. Anyone out past dark would be susceptible to an attack from the Grandpincher. While sitting around their camp fire, Meowbert recited this story to Penelope, who in turn gave a sarcastic look and proceeded to go to bed. As the night went on, Penelope, who had not been shaken by the story one bit, slept peacefully. The moons took their turns gliding across the sky, and the forest was quiet. The forest, and everything in it, was sleepy. Everything but Meowbert who trembled with fear at the possibility of the Grandpincher coming to attack them. The only things that gave Meowbert solace were the peaceful fireflies dancing above him, and the presence of the brave Penelope. The fireflies’ calmness seemed to say that everything was alright, they were safe here. Just as the 5th moon begun to cross the sky, and Meowbert started drifting to sleep, there was a rustle in the nearby puddingbush’s branches. The fireflies sensed the nuance and their lights quickly faded. This made Meowbert’s stomach drop and his heart filled with a fear greater than ever before. He, too, had heard the noise. The harrowing silence that followed 50
lasted for at least 3 minutes before a large creature jumped out of the bush and lunged at Meowbert. This surprise was almost too much for Penelope to handle, and she clutched her heart at the sight of the creature that was nearly 4 times larger than she. It was, indeed, the dreaded Grandpicher that only hours ago she had believed to be only a legend. Before either Meowbert or Penelope had time to act, the Grand-pincher reached for Meowbert’s chubby face and squeezed his cheeks as tight as she could. “Look how cute the little kitty is! Who’s a cute kitty? You are! Yes you are!” gushed the Grand-pincher, who was no monster at all. Meowbert groaned and Penelope fell back with laughter. They switched roles as the Grandpicher reached for Penelope too. After safely delivering Meowbert and Penelope back to their village, she bid them a farewell and asked them to not camp out without shelter after dark.After all, she wouldn’t want to see them mauled by were-squirrels!
Whitney Appel, ‘15 Whitney Appel, ‘15 51
Circle X: Cat Callers Breuna Westry, ‘15
Halfway down Senior St.1 I noticed something in an alleyway. Two dogs had decided to make a small cat their dinner. I watched as they tore into the poor creature. My breath caught in my throat as one turned to me. Foam filled its mouth as it snarled. The other then proceeded to turn as well. Their eyes were as green as envy. That was when they lunged. As quickly as I could, I turned around and bolted in the other direction. With my breath quickening, my heart racing, and my feet burning, I hurried to find a safe place. All the while I could hear the dogs catching up to me. I turned to see if there was any chance that I would make it out of the attack alive. I immediately regretted that decision when I stumbled over a broken bottle of gin in the street. I had the feeling that that was the end for me, that here would be a news article in the Times Picayune2 the next day reading, “Local Girl Mauled by Dogs.” Then, a bright light flashed. The dogs were blinded by the light. Their whimpers proved that the harsh lighting bothered them. Soon enough they passed out from the intensity. I sat on the ground in shock. Then all of a sudden there was a hand resting on my shoulder. A sweet girl with blonde locks and fair skin was standing before me draped in white. Her mouth opened to speak. “Hello fellow traveler, my name is Isabel,3 but you can refer to me as Angel.”4 All I could manage to do was shake my head as a response. Angel then giggled. “I saw those dogs were chasing you and I just knew I couldn’t let you suffer. Then I realized you were just the girl that I was looking for.” Finally my mouth caught up with my mind, and I was able to formulate an answer: “Umm, thank you so much for that, but can you tell me why you were looking for me?” Angel giggled once again. “Oh, you’re so silly. You have been chosen for a tour of the Inframundo. ”5 To that I had to laugh. My first thought was that this lady was crazy, and my second was that maybe she had taken a heap of pills before coming out into the night. I finally responded to her, “You want to bring me to Hell. So like some Dante’s Inferno6 spiritual journey?” She nodded. I let out a big sigh. I then thought about how I clearly must have bumped my head when I was being chased. That was it. I had fallen, hit my head, and passed out. I was obviously just unconscious on the ground, which probably meant I was being eaten alive by dogs. Angel cleared her throat to bring me back to reality. “I can see 52
this is taking a little while to sink in, and I hate to be a pusher but we really must be on with our journey.” Before I could say anything the world was spinning. It was as if the world were being sucked into a black hole. Buildings and street signs became nothing but blurs of Technicolor streaks. As quickly as the spinning started, it stopped, and we were at the top of a cliff in a dry, deserted land. The heat was overwhelming. I began to sweat, but as soon as the moisture rose to my skin, it evaporated with a sizzle. Angel turned me around. “This is Hell, if you haven’t grasped that from the scene already. Specifically, we are in the tenth circle for those who have lived lustfully but have never fully acted upon those emotions. All that there ever was for them to do was to sit, stare, and cat call at women, as if it made the women feel any better that these men decided that it was their duty to use their barbaric forms of flattery to give them any affirmation.” I rolled my eyes in disgust. Angel had brought me to a place full of dreadful men men that decided to make it their life goal to make women out to be animals that they could call. Did they seriously believe that a lady would listen to such demeaning sounds? Angel then went into these bushes. I tried to follow her but she told me to stay. When she appeared again, she had two hang gliders. She then explained,“To get into this circle we must fly, but be careful. There are sharp milk bones7 that rise from the ground in towering points.” I began to get nervous. Jumping off of cliffs was not in the job description I was given. I questioned Angel,“Why can we not just walk through the valley?” Angel chuckled. “My dear that would be way too easy.” And with that Angel pushed me off the cliff. I screamed and grabbed the hang glider until my knuckles were white. Angel told me to calm down. I tried to steady my heart. Then I looked down and noticed that the milk bones were dry and cracked and the tips were so sharp they could puncture the air. Then I looked up. The air was thick and reddish brown like the Devil’s dried blood. While I was investigating my surroundings, I did not notice that we were in danger. A cry broke the air. The sound resembled a bird but the pitch was way too low. It was as if the sound of the bird got inserted into a cow or a donkey. Angel then screamed, “Duck!” Before I could react there was a blow to my side. My hang glider veered off to the right. I turned my head slightly to try to see what it was that struck me. It appeared to be a Nue.8 I had heard of these creatures before, but I had never seen them with wings. Angel dived and I followed her lead. We bobbed in and out of the milk bones. With one swift movement we lost the Nue. As my heartbeat returned to its original rhythm, I could just make out the silhouette of a man. 53
We glided down to the ground and there stood Caesar Milan.9 He stood with his feet shoulder length apart and his shoulders back. From his lips hung a silver dog whistle. His eyes were as white as pearls. He made no movement or sound to acknowledge our presence. Then the water began to rise. It didn’t feel like any water that I had felt before. It’s color was clear with a slight cream color within. That is when I heard it. The sound of dogs running towards me. I thought I had finally woken up. I was still on the street and the dogs had found me again. When I could finally see them, my first instinct was to run. Angel grabbed my arm and forced me to stay. The dogs ran past. Caesar then blew into the whistle. All of the dogs stopped and writhed on the ground. Their bodies reminded me of when slugs get salt poured on top of them. Their screams almost brought a tear to my eye until Angel said, “These dogs are the former cat callers.” Then I let out a small laugh. The men had to be turned into dogs to show how they were viewed to the rest of the living world. They were now getting whistled at. As the whistling continued, blood started to spurt out of their ears. It flowed out and started to mix with the water. Angel then explained, “They will forever have to have their eardrums burst because of their sins. The thought of their voices made women cringe, I guess what goes around comes around.” I finally noticed that the water that was filling the ground was coming from the mouths of the dogs. The water in question was actually drool. I turned up my nose. The thought of my body submerged in the bloody drool made me sick to my stomach. The whistle then stopped. The dogs got up. One slowly made its way over to me. The dog’s face began to change. The features merged with the features of a man, one who looked familiar. I realized that it was Robin Thicke.10 I confronted him, “Speak and tell me why you are here.” Robin replied, “I am here because of my offensiveness towards women. But is it really my fault?” My blood began to boil. “Of course it is your fault. How could you not think so.” My anger overwhelmed me and my voice rose. Robin began to wail. It was as if my voice had turned into the whistle. He ran off. I yelled after him, “Good riddance!” Angel came to me with a smile. “I like your spunk. Way to stand up for your fellow women.” I bowed my head to hide my smile. Angel turned away from where Robin had gone and then looked at me. “I believe that your journey is over.” Angel tapped me on the head and I fainted. When I awoke I was again on the street. People were beginning to come out of their homes. I got up and continued my walk down Senior St. 54
1
At this time Breuna Westry had almost been halfway through her senior year of high school. 2 The newspaper of New Orleans, Louisiana 3 A fine young lady whom Breuna had grown up with, who eventually became a successful lawyer. 4 Isabel played the character Angel in the play Rent. 5 The inframundo is the Underworld in Spanish. 6 An epic poem written by Dante Alighieri. 7 A tasty snack for dogs of the 21st century. Ingredients unknown. 8 Legendary Japanese creature with the face of a monkey, the torso of a tank, the limbs of a tiger, and the tail of a snake. 9 Famous dog trainer from National Geographic. 10
Famous singer who wrote an offensive song about women. 55
The Lion Tail
Lainey Pickens, ‘19 They had been searching for the lion for weeks. It had killed a grand total of four oxen, seven sheep, five goats, and eleven chickens, one of which I had owned at one time, until my father made me give it to the neighbor. It saddened me to hear that those animals had died, even though they were going to be killed anyway because we were in the midst of autumn, and winter was approaching quickly this year. Almost all of the leaves had fluttered to the ground, and frost had appeared on the plants, crystallizing the fronds and protecting them from the cold. Lying on the ground, I observed the clear skies and the cool wind as it breezed through our town. My father, as the town leader, had organized a search party to “catch” the lion. That was a lie. We all knew that my father’s goal was to eliminate it for good, but not many people acknowledged that around me, for my sake. A chill ran through me, partially because I was in short sleeves outside at the end of autumn, but mostly because I was thinking about just what my father would do to kill that lion. “David, supper!” my mother yelled from our house. She somehow made screaming sound nice. I brushed leaves off my shirt and combed them out of my short caramel hair. Sighing, I tucked my string back into my pocket and got up, sad to leave my animals in the woods (an orphaned fawn, a bird with a broken wing, and a puppy-nowturned-dog that wasn’t sick anymore but had decided to stay), but I was glad to leave the cold behind as I turned to run through the brittle, dead grass up to my cozy house.
***
“Could you set out the silverware?” “Sure, Mother,” I answered, happy to please. I laid the forks, spoons, and knives out on the tablecloth next to the plates. My little sister May was bouncing in her seat already, eager to eat. Father should be home any minute, and Joseph was probably out with his friends somewhere. Not that I really cared. The door opened with a gust of cool air, and my father walked in. He was a sturdily-built man with a cleanly-cropped beard, and he had the finest clothes in town. As a merchant, he brought home a nice 56
salary, and his wealth made him the town leader. He nodded at me and swung May up in the air. She squealed. “Papa! Papa! I’m so glad you’re home!” Her face was glowing with excitement. “Me too, darling.” He kissed her forehead and then strode over to where my mother was just finishing the soup. Mother glanced over her shoulder at May. “Was it better today, honey?” Father growled. “No. George and Michael are still causing a ruckus about that lion. It’s killed three more goats and six hens in the past week! Harold and Bora have gotten nowhere with the search group, and morale is low. I have an announcement to make, but I’ll wait until Joseph gets here.” His voice was filled with pride at mentioning my brother’s name, reminding me once again that Joseph was the perfect son. Just then, Joseph walked in the door. I hated the feeling of jealousy that squeezed my heart as my father beamed and clapped him on the back. “How’ve you been, son?” he asked, genuinely sounding interested in a way he never seemed with me. “Fine, Father.” A picture of perfection, he went to kiss my mother on the cheek. “It smells wonderful already.” She smiled. “Supper’s ready,” she announced, and we all scrambled up to get her delicious soup. Soon we were all eating around the table, May slopping hers all down her front. “Really, honey, you need to learn some manners,” my mother laughed as she wiped May’s dress. May giggled but made no attempt to clean up. My father cleared his throat authoritatively, and we all turned to look at him, even May, who was now buttering a roll with her finger. “I have an announcement to make. The lion has gotten even more aggressive lately, and I, as leader of the town, have decided to take action. All but a select few men and boys twelve and older will join the search team for the lion.” My father paused and eyed me, as if expecting me to object. I stared into my bowl of soup, face burning, willing myself not to burst out in anger. He continued. “Joseph”—my brother sat up taller in his seat—”and David”—I kept my eyes on my soup— ”you will be joining the group with me on the hu—search, I meant search,” he amended hastily, glancing around. Joseph looked determined. May was too involved in her soup to be listening to anything Father said, but my mother’s eyes immediately jumped to my little 57
sister and then to me to see how we’d reacted. I swallowed. “We leave at sunrise.” Father declared.
***
I sat on the floor of my room, packing for the hunt. I couldn’t believe I had to do this. My father didn’t ever care about what I wanted to do, so why should I have to please him at all? It was all too frustrating. It was in the lion’s nature to hunt and kill. Why should we be the ones to meddle with the food chain? I tied up my bundle of clothes and tucked in my favorite pocketknife and some extra string on the top. Deep in the woods, there were probably even more hurt animals than I found around the house. I realized that Father would find it a great embarrassment for me to be found with my animals, but then, most everyone thought I was strange anyway. I jumped as I heard a gentle knock. It was my mother. It had to be. The door opened slowly. “Honey, can I come in?” “Sure, Mother,” I said, trying to act upbeat and casual but failing. “It’s going to be fine,” she said soothingly. “If you don’t want to go, just tell him so. He’ll understand.” She faltered slightly on the last part because we both knew it wasn’t true. “I’m fine, really. I have to go. Father’s town leader, and I’m supposed to make him proud.” “I know. But know that I’m always proud of you.” She stepped out of the doorway and turned back, whispering. “Don’t worry about your animals. I’ll take care of them for you.” She winked kindly and shut the door. How did she know about my menagerie? I realized I didn’t care. Whatever I did or became, she would always be proud of me.
***
The next morning, I got up early—about thirty minutes before sunrise. I took some scraps from the kitchen and ran down out back into the woods to my animals. My dog, who now only answered to “Puppy,” wagged his tail and took some meat out of my hands. I fed my bird some seeds, and the fawn got some carrot tops and lettuce. I hurriedly said goodbye to them and ran back up to the house before my father caught me out there. 58
After a big breakfast, we headed outside to leave. We had decided not to go on horse, thinking that would scare the lion away. May hugged all of us fiercely and escaped into the house crying. I looked after her, wishing I could stay too. My mother finished talking to Joseph, but he wasn’t really listening, looking over at my father as if begging to get a move on. She walked over to me. “Don’t worry,” she said. “Just do your best.” My mother hugged me goodbye, but I didn’t feel comforted at all. We gathered up our bundles and strode away to meet the other members of the hunt.
***
All of us sat around the fire. The entire day, we had had no luck. The most we had found was a deer carcass at the edge of the woods. It had sickened me to see it. I had tried not to show my revulsion, but my father caught me looking away and shook his head in disappointment. I could never do anything to please him. All of the men argued without end about who was affected the worst by the lion. George and Michael, two brothers whose farm had been attacked numerous times, were the loudest. I just wanted to sleep. I dragged my bundle over to the side and used it as a pillow as I lay down. Eventually, the chatter became background noise, and I drifted away.
***
The next morning, we had a breakfast of dried meat and cornbread. We washed it all down with some water from a stream. I pulled on my gloves. It was colder today. Some of the men hadn’t brought jackets, and they were shivering. I was glad I had. Throughout the day, we had the same luck as before: a bunch of dead animals, but no lion. I didn’t know how I felt about this. The sooner we caught it, the sooner I could get home; but I really didn’t want to kill it. I didn’t want anyone to get hurt either. I looked up at the sky. It was nearing sunset, and the sky had just a hint of orange on the horizon. I was at the back of the group. I looked up, expecting to see my father or Joseph or Michael, but no one was there. I was alone. I sped up, running through the trees and getting cut by brush along the way. I cried “Father” and “Joseph” so many times I lost count, but no one came to get me. They had vanished. 59
By this time, it was night. I wanted to cry but decided I wouldn’t. I would stay strong through this. I would find the group. But even as I tried to convince myself I would be okay, I felt tendrils of doubt grasping my heart, squeezing my throat. I had no idea where I was or which way was home. As I lay down to sleep under an oak tree, a tear rolled down my cheek and into the dry, dead grass.
***
I woke up the next morning, stomach rumbling. I realized I had nothing to eat. My father had carried the provisions. That set my mood even lower. I brushed leaves off my jacket and stood up. I would just try to find them. I walked for hours, my stomach complaining the whole way. I drank from a stream, but I had no way to carry the water with me. I decided to follow it. Maybe I could catch a fish farther up. At about midday, I heard a rustling in the bushes across the stream. My heart leaped. Could it be? I was safe! I splashed through the creek, hopping with excitement at finding the group at last. I scrambled over the rocks on the edge and peered into the clearing. It was the lion, eating a sheep I recognized as Farmer Michael’s. My heart dropped and splashed into the river. This was where I was supposed to kill the lion and stop our livestock from becoming prey. This was where I was supposed to grab my knife and stab it into the lion’s back. But I couldn’t, I knew. It was just in the lion’s nature to kill and eat other things. Kill or be killed. Eat or be eaten. As the lion chomped on the meat, I cringed, trying not to throw up. If I made any noise, the lion would probably eat me too. My stomach rumbled louder, and I shrunk behind the tree, but the lion didn’t even look up. It was too engaged in its meal. What could I do? The lion couldn’t keep eating our animals. Winter was almost here, and we needed the food. And then it hit me. How I could get the lion to leave. How I could make it move without killing it. I wondered why I hadn’t thought of it before. The tail, I thought, I’ll get the tail. Silently as I could, I shrugged off my pack and took out my knife. If I did this right, the lion would be so startled and hurt, it would just run away. The wound would be small, and the lion would almost positively survive. I smiled grimly. I would rather injure the lion than kill it. 60
I brandished my knife and inched forward quietly behind the lion, heart galloping. Hurry, before it finishes eating. Quickly, I took a final step forward and sliced through flesh, right before the tail connected to the body. I let out a loud yell, hoping to scare the lion more, and sprinted to the nearest tree. I scrambled up the branches and waited fearfully, panting heavily. The lion roared in agony and loped away. It didn’t notice me in the tree. It even left its half-eaten sheep behind. Somehow, I knew it wouldn’t be back. I had also injured its pride. Exhausted, from slight lack of food and my confrontation with the lion, I immediately fell asleep, right in the low branches of the oak.
***
“Son, wake up! Please!” As I blearily opened my eyes, I was surprised to see my father looking so worried. Were his eyes really glistening? “I’m fine,” I said, and I meant it. “We’ve been looking since yesterday! Where’ve you been?” My father, now sounding a little angry, was clenching his fists. “I’m fine, really,” I reassured him. “I lagged behind and got separated. I just followed the creek.” “Never do that again,” he roared, but then he cracked a smile. “Come here, son.” He enfolded me in a hug. For once, I felt like I had done something right. “What happened to the lion?” he asked. “It’s obviously been here.” “Oh, I think it’s gone,” I said lightly. “Don’t think it’s ever coming back.” My father looked puzzled but didn’t ask any questions. I looked over his shoulder and realized that the tail was still lying next to the dead deer. As the rest of the group gathered up their things and patted me on the back, I hung back a little. I grabbed the tail and stuffed it into my pack. I didn’t think I would ever tell anybody about it. This was my lion tail.
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Blub Blub Blub Breuna Westry, ‘15 I sank. What else was there to do? I watched as the waves danced above my head. They danced the waltz. The surfer cut in changing the beat, the beat, the beat. Two bubbles surfaced, broke free releasing, oozing their air. Who did they think they were? Dumping their trash, wasting their precious air. O the world that destroyed it with its carbon dioxide wrung the air’s neck Trying to make it sink again What else was there for it to do? But sink?
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The End of Silence Daisha Milan Calliet, ‘17
I’m an extremely strong person But as I write this poem I’m weak I am burdened with the tears of my ancestors My black brothers and my black sisters My black mothers and my black fathers I feel their pain and I hear their cries For all 15 years of my life I have been me An African American But I just recently noticed that I am not an American at all I am just a caged monkey in a zoo You see… I want to change the world but my lungs aren’t strong Enough to scream all the way to congress And my lungs aren’t strong enough to get into the home of every Neighborhood that my people aren’t welcomed in And my lungs aren’t even strong enough to make my brothers and Sisters Realize that those stereotypes are no more than just stereotypes and Not a checklist to live by So I won’t use my lungs Instead I will use my pen as a key to unlock the cage of complacency I will use red ink on a black page to represent All of my brothers that YOU the peace keepers have murdered But I would be a fool to blame all the deaths in my race on the cops So I will end my poem with an apology to those mothers who lost their Sons to another confused black boy Because somewhere along the way we forgot that we are all on the Same team. 63
And I just pray that one day we will learn that together we stand and Divided we fall They say that we are a violent race but if your people were constantly Being Murdered Imprisoned Mistreated Discriminated Sexually Abused Ridiculed and Made a mockery of Wouldn’t you be a little on edge? We have NEVER been thought of as equals and for what? Because our Skin is darker? The blood that pulses through my veins is the same exact color as Yours, Red And I thought y’all would know that by now because it is my people’s Blood that decorates the streets and sidewalks of every single town in America Not another black boy should be shot down like a dog in the street. When did humans become so comfortable with taking another human’s precious life? You have no right to decide when someone takes their last breath I am fed up I am angry And I am tired Black people please wake up We MUST end the silence.
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Iris Mire, ‘15
65
Jacob Thomas, ‘20
Malorie Saucier, ‘20
Iris Heppe, ‘20
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Index
Travis Adolph: 31 Lupa: 11 Elena Andry: 31 Katie Main: 25 Whitney Appel: 51 Seth Mayeaux: 16 Kyla Bernberg: 44 Olivia Merington: 7 Ben Bone: 8 Sarah Millican: 14, 45 Natalia Bourg: 50 Iris Mire: 5, 20, 22, 37, 65 Jason Bremermann: 48 Anisha Mitra: 9 Clare Brierre: 18 Lauren Monier: 15 Daisha Calliet: 41, 63 George Mueller: 7 Bonnie Cash: 23 Jaclyn Murphy: 28, 30 Andy Chen: 10 Ian Ottinger: 5 Clara Conatser: 38 Lainey Picken: 56 Will Dean: 28 Christian Rice: 10 Grayson Doyle: 47 Rodney Rice: 29 Cheyenne Dwyer: 7, 41 Dillon Roaf: 4 Hudson Fein: 1 Natasha Salas: 29 Nathan Fernandez: 48 Collin Saucer: 24 Jack Flanagan: 9 Malorie Saucier: 66 Jordan Fresneda: 14, 19, 26 Fiona Segar: 1 Kailee Gibson: 32, 33 Darrel Smith: 1 Gigi Gsell: 1 Will Sossaman: 16 Justin Hall: 7 Taylor Stokes: 25 Kaitlyn Hall: 17 Caroline Spears: 7 Iris Heppe: 66 Jacob Thomas: 66 John Hurley: 35 Gershom Thompson: 40 Queen Jonafa: 36 Levi Thompson: 27, 34 Srihari Korrapati: 12 Javier Torres: 7 Elizabeth Kuehne: 2, 13, 42, Sofia Ungarino: 21 46 Matthew Varon: 15 Cole LaCoste: 9 Riley Velasquez: 17 Camryn Lafleur: 24 Breuna Westry: 52, 62 Colin Lawler: 1 Austin White: 3, 6, 46 Phillip Lazich: 13