Kayrix 2019 - St. Benedict's Literary Magazine

SBP Kayrix: 2019 The

Literary Magazine

Editorial Staff Editor- In- Chief ....... David Rahaman Assistant Editor ........... John Mollozzi Design Editor .......... Logisan Lorance Formatting Staff Claude Knight Giovanni Zaniacomi Geovanni Lopez Amari Thompson Taylor Grant Nasir Guyton Jaime Pozo

Editors Note

The Rule We work in an institution based on The Rule. It’s purpose is to serve as a guideline for “community,” and it needs to be preserved. As individuals we have an obligation to give up what we want for what the community needs. Sometimes we have to accept a future that we can not control.

Editor-In-Chief - David Rahaman

Chapters of Kayrix Table of Contents Editors Note . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 Excerpts from Student ............ 2 Writer’s Notebook’s Critical Writing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 Short stories

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13

Personal Naratives . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 19

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EXCERPTS FROM STUDENT WRITER’S NOTEBOOKS:

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“I woke up at 6:30, like I always do. I went to go take my shower and my mom knocked on the door saying “David, you need to come quick!”.”I’m in the shower” I said to her. She shouted that she needed to go to the vet, I told her I’d be right down. I walked downstairs and there my dog was laying on the kitchen floor barely breathing. I said to myself “he’s dying...”

“I have just learned that you have to work hard to get the good grades you want to get. We often take little things for granted, things such as, a loving family, and a hot meal.”

“My mom just told me that Bernie Williams is coming to Benedict’s on February 15th. That’s crazy to me because I’ve been a Yankees fan since I was almost 6. I remember in 2009, I walked into my mom’s room and the Yankee’s were playing the Angel’s, we destroyed them that game. I watched the Yankees the rest of the world series that year and watched them ultimately win the series that year. I’ve been a Yankees fan ever since.”

“Sometimes I feel like she thinks I am going to do the same thing my father did to her and to other women but I would never do that to her because I love my mother and wouldn’t want to hurt her or anyone else for that matter. I just want to make my mom proud and show her that I was a blessing in her life, not a curse. I have to do well in my classes in order to do so.

It’s going to be hard because I’ve built a lazy mentality for myself but I am trying to fix it.”

3

“My dream is to have a lot of money, be happy, and never have to worry about anything. But that’s just a dream. I promise myself that I will one day reach that. I’ve learned that you work for what you want.”

“It just came into my head to write about friendship.

When I was younger I thought it was “cool” to be super known in different towns and have all these friends. Now that I am growing up I am realizing that although it’s pretty cool for me to have people that say that they are my friends or want to be my friends, I don’t really like it. I don’t like all these “friends” and the “bros” that I don’t even know like that. I’m fine with my handful of people that I’m close to. I can talk to them about anything. I must say though at the end of the day I am fine “kicking it” all by my lonesome.”

“I was given a cross when I was 7 years old. I didn’t value the cross as much as I do now. When I was younger I just wore it to wear it, but now it’s very special to me. It was given to me by my Grandma.

As I grew up I started to grow in Faith and because of this, the cross’ value to me grew. I now wear it almost everyday and I wear it with a little more passion.”

“Baseball season is around the corner almost. The time to start training has come.

I’ve been playing baseball for the past 8-9 years, it is one of the few things that I am naturally very talented at. My dad was a talented pitched for East Rutherford back in the day, it’s probably why I’m naturally comfortable with a glove and bat. Playing the field is my strong suit, not far behind is hitting where I also tend to exceed. Baseball is fun to play and is something I really enjoy spending my time doing, but I didn’t come to Benedict’s to play baseball, I could’ve went to Seton Hall but I didn’t like the student life at Seton Hall, I prefer Benedict’s much more.”

4

Critical Writing

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Romeo and Juliet By: Alejandro Pimentel

In Romeo and Juliet, by William Shakespeare, the protagonist, Juliet, goes through a lot of struggles. The struggle that drives the story to its resolution is Juliet’s inability to be with Romeo.

“On Thursday next be married to this County” (Shakespeare IV, i, 50). Juliet wanted to avoid being married to Paris. She and Friar Lawrence had a plan. Friar would give her a vial that would make her have an appearance of being dead. This would all happen on Juliet and Paris’ wedding day. “I will not marry yet, and when I do swear it will not be Romeo” (Shakespeare III, v, 126-127). Again she showed she only wanted to be with Romeo.

“If all else fail, myself have power to die” (Shakespeare III, v, 225).

Juliet was ready to sacrifice her life for the sake of Romeo. She could not bear the struggle of being without him after he got banished from Verona for killing Tybalt. “Romeo is banished, and all the world is nothing” (Shakespeare III, v, 226). All these mixed feelings that Juliet had, led her to make a very irresponsible decision.

Since she couldn’t be with Romeo, Juliet thought the only reasonable decision was to kill herself. “This is thy sheath. There rust and let me die” (Shakespeare V, III, 175).

She leaned more towards this after she saw Romeo dead.

Although Juliet’s decision ended her struggle, it showed that she was still a child. She was caught up in the moment. She acted like Romeo and made a decision impulsively.

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Flowers for Algernon By: Daniel Cook

In the novel “Flowers For Algernon”, by Daniel Keyes, the protagonist is Charlie Gordon. He is a retarded thirty-two year old man who is struggling to come of age. Throughout the novel he also struggles to beat Algernon, a mouse who has had a similar operation to what Charlie will have, through a maze. “And the other ten times we did it over Algernon won every time…” (Keyes 8). Charlie continues to lose to Algernon in these races until he goes through an operation that makes him smarter. This is the climactic turn in Charlie’s mission to beat Algernon through the maze, which resolves Charlie’s struggle.

Charlie struggles to beat Algernon in the races through a specifically designed maze. He first thinks that no mouse would be able to finish this maze but once Algernon does he is amazed. He is asked if he would like to race Algernon and he replies with a yes. He is shown how to work his way through the maze but as soon as he has been taught he is left to race Algernon alone. He struggles to get through the maze. As he is halfway done with the maze, he hears Algernon squeaking, which indicates that he has finished. Charlie continues to lose to Algernon again and again but he is told that once he has done the operation, he may be able to beat Algernon, which comforts him.

Charlie goes through the operation. He continues to race Algernon and he continues to lose. This results in Charlie hating Algernon. “I hate that mouse. He always beats me” (Keyes 18). This quote shows how angry and upset Charlie is about losing to Algernon. However what Charlie fails to realize is that, even though he is losing, he is getting smarter and faster through the maze.

“I must be getting smarter if I can beat a smart mouse like Algernon” (Keyes 31). Charlie finally beats Algernon through the maze, and in fact continues beaten Algernon another eight times. He didn’t even realize he had to beat Algernon until Burt told him he had. He is getting smarter and is now able to beat Algernon through the maze, which makes Charlie not hate Algernon as much anymore.

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Charlie beating Algernon resolved his struggle of losing to Algernon through the maze. He was able to achieve this because of what the operation had done to him. He is now one step closer to his ultimate goal of becoming smart. Racing Algernon was an experience that allowed Charlie to make his own decisions, thus allowing him to grow from a child to an adult.

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Bliss at the Burger Bar By: Ben Heineman

In the short story,“Bliss at the Burger Bar”, by Louise Plummer, the protagonist is an 18-year-old child who learns how to be an adult in the span of a day. Now by “child,” one might think of age. However, Bliss is an 18-year-old girl, who hasn’t had an experience that questions her views. She has not become an adult yet. For Bliss to become an adult, she must have a situation that challenges her views and what she believes in.

We see Bliss at the beginning being selfish loving Stephen R. Covey, the hardnosed, fast-food manager. Bliss has a headset on her own views and has not had an experience that changes her. Bliss is a selfish child, who shows her selfishness when she says, “ … And being the kind of ‘proactive’ person that I am”( Plummer 28). Bliss regards herself very highly. Bliss believes her views are always right, until she doesn’t know how to deal with a situation. A very important situation.

Hannah, who is one of Bliss’ employees, was beaten on her lunch break by her boyfriend Milo. When Bliss finds her in the bathroom crying, Bliss doesn’t know what to do. Nothing in Stephen R. Covey’s book has taught her how to deal with this. When Bliss suggests to Hannah that she should go to the hospital, Hannah profusely says no. When Hannah refuses her advice, Bliss is shocked. Everything she has ever learned is challenged This causes Bliss to reflect on all her previous views, by stating, “you can’t save someone who doesn’t want saving”(Plummer 38).

While reflecting, Bliss realizes there is more to life than Stephen R. Covey. Bliss does have more to learn. She still doesn’t know it all. Bliss also realizes she has nowhere to go and no one to see. So she goes back to The Burger Bar. While there, she sees a man in the back alley. Bliss quickly realizes who it is. It’s a homeless man named Old Faithful, who on the same day was rejected from receiving food by Bliss. Not knowing who she is anymore, she tries to help the man. Bliss says, “Come inside with me and I’ll fix you a fresh burger”( Plummer 39). This shows Bliss’ change and growth as a character.

In conclusion, Bliss became an adult in a day. She had life-changing experiences that caused her to reflect on her own views. These experiences led to drastic changes in Bliss’s life. She will never be the same person after all this. She has grown up. Before she was blindly making on what Stephen R.Covey wrote in a book. Now she has experiences that she can base her views on. Now she can be an adult and make her own decisions.

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The Fighter

By: Giuseppe Loiacono

In the short story The Fighter, by Walter Dean Myers, the protagonist, Billy Giles, is a young kid that boxes for money. Billy Giles dropped out of school because his attitude for school was really low. He proceeded to do boxing and lie to his wife Johnnie Mee. The protagonist is a young man with a wife and kid but he is a child. It does not seem that he is a child but he is. Billy Giles is a liar and a child that does not listen. One evidence that he is a child, “Billy Giles told his wife that he was going to the gym to workout. If he had told her the truth that he was going to fight again, he knew she would have cried.” (Myers, pg 27). Which shows that he is a child.

When the protagonist walks to the arena, he smells fried fish.

Then Billy Giles goes and gets ready for his fight. When the protagonist is finally notified that the match before his was over, Billy Giles made his way to the ring. As the protagonist is fighting, he is thinking about the things that he wished he could have done. “What are you wasting your time for?” the Guidance counselor had asked him (Myers, pg 35). This shows that the protagonist was reflecting as he was fighting.

Towards the end of the short story the protagonist Billy Giles just lost his match due to the reflecting. Billy Giles walked out of the arena and then took the train back home. The protagonist would have taken a cab, but Billy Giles was too depressed about the match. Billy finally gets home and faces the failure of his loss. “He closed his eyes and hoped he wouldn’t dream.” (Myers, pg 38). This shows that the protagonists gives up and finally becomes an adult.

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Monkeyman By: Ryan Terran

Monkeyman is the protagonist in the short story “Monkey Man”, by Walter Dean Myers. Monkeyman fights the Tigros gang without swinging back. He does this by letting Clean beat him up in the park. He stood there with a bloody nose, shivering from the pain from when he had been beaten up. This climatic turn in the story shaped the future of Monkeyman and the life of Clean and the Tigros.

The Tigros gang was gaining more ground and was looking through the neighborhood for more trouble. “Monkeyman must die! and Monkeyman got to fall,” (Myers, 76). This happened when Peaches was attacked on her way home by two of the Lady Tigros. He saw the girl trying to cut Peaches and knocked the blade out of the girl’s hand. One of them went to Monkeyman’s school so she snitched to the Tigros gang which put him on the hit list. Monkeyman’s struggle is to stay away from the gang, a problem is that a Tigros member, Clean, just got enrolled into his school. This makes it harder for him to stay away from Clean and from the gang. “When we catch you, we’ll cap you,” (Myers, 80).

Clean brought a knife to school and got busted, trying to hurt Monkeyman. The whole Tigros gang was waiting on Monkeyman to exit his school and try to jump him but the cops were present. Monkeyman later tells the gang to meet him the next day in the park at night. He arrives at the park the next day with his folks. Clean approaches Monkeyman to the point where he started throwing fists. Monkeyman had told his grandfather not to help. Monkeyman wasn’t fighting back. The Tigros gang were already outnumbered with the people watching, so they left the scene.

Even after the fight, Monkeyman was still being targeted by the gang.

“The guy who stabbed Monkeyman had been arrested before for possession of drugs and was on parole.” (Myers, 85). Monkeyman was stabbed in the back and ended up in the hospital. Peaches went to visit Monkeyman and talk about their future. Peaches wants to stay far from 145th street. Monkeyman would like to come back and open a studio when they go to college.

Monkeyman survived the Tigros gang. Even though he was abused and beat up by Clean and the Tigros, he never let it stop him from doing what he thought was good. He knows that he made a wrong decision, but he influenced many.

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Farenhiet 451 By: Ben Heineman

In the novels, Fahrenheit 451, by Ray Bradbury and Flowers For Algernon by Daniel Keyes, the reader follows a protagonist in each story. Guy Montag in Fahrenheit 451,and Charlie Gordon in “Flowers For Algernon”.

The reader goes through the struggle of Montag and Charlie finding out who they really are, and the process of them becoming adults. However, these characters don’t develop on their own. They each are heavily influenced by a strong female character. In Guy Montag’s case, he is influenced by Clarisse Mcclellan, a seventeen-year-old young woman who leads Guy to question his own beliefs and question everything he’s ever known. In the case of Charlie Gordon, he is influenced by his teacher, Alice Kinnian. Alice not only educates Charlie, but she gives him something that no one else does, respect. She is one of the only people that helps instill a sense of hope in his life. These two characters are the most influential and pivotal characters in these protagonists’ journeys. These strong female characters have a tremendous influence on the lives of the protagonists. The stories can not happen without their involvement.

In conclusion, Clarisse and Alice are pivotal in the emotional and psychological growth from children to adults for Guy and Charlie. Alice and Clarisse’s rebellious views on society influence Guy and Charlie’s decisionmaking and their motives. These two women drive the story. They are the supporting characters for the protagonists, that shape their outcomes. Clarisse and Alice are able to bring out an emotional side of these characters, that the reader didn’t know was there. Clarisse and Alice are the most influential and pivotal characters in these protagonists’ journeys.

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Short Stories

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Who Are You? By: Sekou Diabate

As I was walking home from school, I noticed someone I had never seen before - an elderly man bringing groceries into his house. I stopped and asked, “Do you need some help?” and he gently nodded his head yes. So I put my book bag on his porch and proceeded to help him with his groceries.

When I went into his house I noticed that he collected a lot of antiques; many were valuable and many weren’t but they were all still pretty cool. When I finished, he offered me some pocket change and I declined it and proceeded to walk home. Over the next couple of days, I walked past and I didn’t see the man until, on a cloudy rainy day, the old man caught me out from his window and told me to come up. I didn’t dig nothing much of it so I went. The front door was unlocked and I stepped inside. I followed the sound of his voice upstairs and when I got up there he greeted me with a smile. It felt almost like he had been staring outside of his window all day waiting for me to appear.

“Is there anything I can do for you Sir?” I asked.

“No, not necessarily,” said the old man.

“Well, my name is Sekou. What is your name?” I asked.

“Ali, Ali Kone,” he replied.

“Well Mr. Kone is there anything I can do for you today?” I said.

“Yes, sit here and let me talk to you” said Ali. “Okay?” I said hesitantly.

I was a little creeped out and honestly, I wanted to run out of the room and out of the house as fast as I could and never turn back, but something told me to stay. Something told me to take in what he had to say.

“How’s school?” asked Ali. “Good,” I said.

“Let me just get to the point. I know a lot about you - a lot of things you don’t know about yourself - and I want you to understand that the road you’re going down is it very bad. The people you’re following don’t want to see you succeed. Do you want to crumble into pieces?” said Ali. “Look old man. I don’t know who you are or what the hell you think you know, but it’s not me - you don’t know nothing about me! You asked me to help you with your groceries Monday and now you think you know everything about me?” I said angrily.

“Because I do.” Said Ali “Okay I’m done with this. I’m out” I said.

“You’ve been warned” said Ali. 14

A couple months later, my father and I started to clean out the attic when we stumbled upon a box. I opened the box and saw a familiar face. I asked my dad who it was and he said that he was my great-great grandfather, Ali Kone who had passed away 50 years ago. My heart dropped in disbelief. I was honestly scared that I was being followed.

I took what Ali said to heart and I stopped following those people.

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Where the Flowers Sing By: Ibrahim Mendheim

It was a bright, warm summer’s day in the beautiful countryside of California where time seems to move as slow as molasses. Bored out of my mind watching the time crawl by, I decided to go out into the blazing sun to the garage and go for a drive in my dusty old marron 1969 Corvette. This Corvette is the only thing my grandfather left me and it is my most prized possession in all the world. This old girl may be a bit of a “fixer upper” as I would always say to my girlfriend when she called it “a rusty hunk of metal.”

I mean, maybe she’s right but people come and go while my car stays; she has since disappeared from my life. Sometimes I feel like my car is the only thing that I have in life; the only thing that stays consistence. My car has been this way for years and I have no intentions of fixing it. So a few dents and scratches here and there, for sure I could easily get them fixed but I decide not to because each dent and every scratch has a story. Even so “old reliable” always carried me to where I needed to go without fail.

As I turned the key in the ignition and the car rumbled to life, I wrapped my hands against the leather steering wheel. I felt the surge of life when my foot pressed down on the pedal and engine let out a deep sputtered roar as I pulled off into the open road. With the top down and the breeze in my face and the energizing sun beaming down on me; I felt almost as free as a bird flying through the sky without a care in the world.

At this point, I was soaring down this open country road at speeds the old girl hadn’t touched in years, but I wasn’t worried because at that moment, I was simply a bird gliding through the wind without a care in the world.

Seconds later, I heard a loud bang and felt a vibration that shook from the car’s engine to the very core of my soul. At this moment, all remnants of my joyous bliss had completely faded into the ashes of the smoke that was coming from my car’s engine block. There I was, stranded by the side of the road miles away from anything at all, not a soul in sight.

As I walked and walked endlessly down this seemingly desolate highway, with the sun blazing as if it were piercing through my body, and the dusty winds assaulting my already defeated face, I heard a sound off in the distance.

It sounded like a little girl humming a beautiful tune. I walked toward the entrancing song to find this beautiful little girl, no older than 12, with long, curly golden hair and chocolate brown freckles splattered over her thin little face, kneeling down in a field of colorful flowers. She wore an almost blindingly white sundress that was clean but also tattered, like she’d had it for a while.

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There were no houses for miles on this road which left me puzzled as to what this girl could be doing here so I asked, “What are you doing out here in this field?”

The girl totally ignored my question, and she asked, still kneeling staring at the tulip in her hand, “What’s your name mister?”

I replied, “Jax, that’s the name. What’s yours?”

She replied, ”Jaaax wow I’ve never met a Jax here before. My name’s Abigail.”

I asked my initial question again, “Just what is a little girl like you doing out here in the middle of nowhere in this flower field? Where are your parents?”

“This field is not in the middle of nowhere, it’s my flower garden!”

Then Abigail went back to humming that entrancing tune that drew me to this garden.

“Why are you humming that tune?”

“In my garden, the flowers sing the most beautiful symphony you’ll ever hear - greater than any piece Chopin or Mozart could dream of composing. I can let you hear if you’d like,” she said.

“What are you even talking about? Flowers can’t sing. You must be out of your mind… but for the hell of it why not? Show me the flowers’ song.”

The girl suddenly stood up and stared directly into my eyes almost as if she was staring into to the depths of my soul. “Are you sure you want to hear this symphony, it does come with the price of-” “I don’t care just show me.”

She got up and picked a blue tulip and told me to hold out my hands.

She dropped the flower in my hand “Alright Jax. Are you ready to hear for the first time ever in your life?”

“Yes I believe I am.”

She laid her palms on mine, and a flash of warm blinding light appeared and like magic, I began to witness the beautiful assembly of flowers playing their own unique harmonic symphony. The girl and I sang and danced through the field of flowers for what seemed like a short while but when I was done dancing, the sun was already down and I still had a long way to walk to get to the nearest town. The music had made me forget I was still lost in the middle of nowhere. Now it was becoming dark, and I needed to get home.

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“Thank Abigail, but I think I’ll take my leave now,” I said. But something felt off about this situation. Abigail stared at me with a puzzled look, as if I had just asked a kindergartner to do calculus. I began to walk out of the garden and back toward the road, but when I got to the edge of the grass it was like some unknown entity was preventing me from taking my last step to leave the garden.

“You know you can leave right?” the girl whispered.

“What?” I screamed.

Then she replied in a soft but somehow menacing tone, “That’s the flower’s price, Jax. Once you hear their song your soul is trapped here in my garden and when it comes time for you to breathe your last breath, you’ll be reborn as one of my flowers and sweet melodies to me for the rest of eternity.”

“This can’t be true. I’m only 27! I have so much life left to live I can’t spend it here. You’re lying!” I yelled. But in my heart, I knew it was true and there wasn’t a thing I could do but watch as this little girl stole my freedom from me. Through her uncontrollable maniacal laughter, I realized that flowers weren’t singing any beautiful melody at all; these flowers were people like me, crying out sad melodies of an unfulfilled life.

This was the grave of the flowers, and I am its next victim.

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Personal Narratives

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Untitled

By: Anonymous It all starts at the beginning of 7th grade at Middle School (horrible place). I made the worst, yet, best mistake of my life, which may seem crazy, but it’s true. At the end of 6th grade, I had made a name for myself. I was a well known guy. My close friend, Dexter and I were at his house with his older brother who went to SHP. He showed us a picture of a swastika and we laughed, him being his little brother, Dexter tried to impress him and put it on his wall paper. Being the moron I was, I did it too.

The next week when we got back to school, two of my best friends, Tate and Nate saw our wallpapers and asked, “Why??”

We didn’t know what they meant, we didn’t even really know what the swastika meant, but they did. Somehow they did the same thing as us and put it is as their wallpaper screens. So at this point, we all had the swastika as our wallpaper.

No one knew this but Dexter, Nate, Tate, and I. Then all of a sudden at lunch while we were on our phones, I noticed three Jewish kids looking over our shoulders and we were sitting side by side on our phones...The kids stormed off running.

Four hours later when I went to leave school from wrestling practice, I could not find my my phone. To this day I don’t know where it went, but I know who found it...the vice principal. That day the Jewish kids told the vice principal but she never believed them until she had my phone. The beginning of the end started. One of the kids’ older sister posted something on Instagram about the incident. This was the downfall, it was the beginning of the end.

When we arrived at school Dexter, Nate, Tate and I were all called to the office. It was the end for all of us. When we walked through the hallways, kids were staring at us, some we could hear under their breaths saying Nazis. We all knew we would get suspended, but we didn’t know for how long. The principal said we were suspended for a week and a half.

The next thing I knew, I was getting death threats from half of the upperclassmen in my town. I didn’t feel safe anywhere anymore, nor did my friends. That is when I realised I could not and I would not go to the public high school. My entire world was collapsing on me. Then suddenly there was hope: St. Benedict’s Prep.

There was an open house for people who would like to go to the school. I walked in and the first thing I got was this stare from this old man.

It was a cold stare. He asked me where I was from. My heart was pumping and I was thinking, “Oh my God, does he know?” The next words to come out of his mouth changed my life. He said “I am Fr. Ed and this will be a good place for you.” I smiled and shook his hand. Since the incident, I had never felt so great or so welcomed. I did not know why or how. You might think I was crazy, but I was a little thankful that the incident had happened.

That is how my worst mistake in my life turned into my best mistake.

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Untitled

By: Daniel Cook Since the day I was born until I have been about three I have lived with my mom and dad. I was just a three-year-old kid that was clueless of the environment around him. My dad took me to his new house, but there was one problem, he didn’t take my mom. We got to the house, and I was excited to see the inside. It was just how I imagined it, huge with lots of rooms and a beautiful view. Later that night we went back home and I went right to sleep, but one thing I should’ve realized was that my life would never be the same.

Before my parents officially divorced, they would sleep in separate rooms. I never understood why, but they did. Nothing seemed awkward between them, but what did I know? I was oblivious to what started this. Was it something my dad said or was it something my mom said? I honestly did not know.

I am now fourteen years old, and my dad is now married to my step mom, but it’s not a normal marriage because she used to be my Godmother.

My grandma had told me that my God mother was my mom’s best friend, but she wanted my dad as much as my mom did. She told my mom that my dad was seeing other girls when he actually wasn’t, and she told my dad the same things. It was just pure chaos, and that was the reason my parents divorced. My God mother married my dad in 2010, and they now live together. My mom is single but has not been with someone since my dad, which is sad because she’ll have to live with that memory for the rest of her life.

My parents still talk to each other if it relates to me, which is good because some parents don’t talk to each other at all. This divorce has helped me to learn about my family’s past, and even if there is some bad, that bad has shaped me to who I am today. I’m grateful that the divorce happened when I was younger because I don’t know how it would’ve impacted me if I was older. Sometimes everything happens for a reason, and I guess the divorce of my parents happened at the right time.

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Esta Rosa

By: Nasir Guyton Esta Rosa is a girl I met at the corner store one day and a girl who was like no other. She was hardened to the core, literally the complete opposite of me. She smoked, drank, and most likely did drugs. I found a pill bottle with no label in her purse. I know what your thinking, “Why the hell would I hang out with a person like that?” but Esta Rosa was probably the most interesting person I’ve ever met in my life. She would always make me question things about life. One time, she had just finished fighting with another girl and our conversation lead to her past.

“Looking to pity me? Forget it, don’t ever look at me with those eyes, or I’ll consider you an enemy.” After that, she took out a swastika cross and a normal cross and said,“what do you think these are?”

“A nazi cross and a regular cross,” she said.“Wrong.” I was puzzled.

I did not understand, but Esta Rosa looked like she was not surprised by my reaction. “These are things, nothing more, nothing less, once you strip away their meanings and what they represent that’s all they are... Things.”

I had looked at her like she was crazy, but a part of me actually thought about it and came up with the same conclusion. Another day, I gave her a gift since it was her birthday. I had given her a heart necklace as she said that her favorite shape was a heart in one of our conversations in the past.

“Well, it looks like it’s worth a penny at least.”

“What?” I said.

“You didn’t hear me? Do I need to spell it out for you? Well, I said it looks like it’s worth a lot of money.”

I already knew what her answer was going to be to this question, but I asked anyway. “Are you going to sell it?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said.

“Don’t you like it?” I asked.

“I do, but I’d rather have money than sentiments.”

“If you love, something shouldn’t you cherish it?” I asked. “That’s the way you see it, huh, well for me nostalgia and kindness means nothing in objects because they are all ruled by a universal unit. Money. Everything else is just a bunch of sentimental crap.

“Who is this girl?” I thought, I never once met a human like this.

Esta Rosa’s physical condition started to deteriorate, as she was becoming skinnier and skinnier each time I saw her, seemingly for no reason, she never told me. However, she was still Esta Rosa and did the same things she would always do. One day I jokingly asked her, “Do you even believe in God?” 22

She responded with.“God? Don’t make me laugh. When I was young and crawling on the streets, God always seemed to be ‘not in service.’ I’ve always had me, myself and I and that’s the only person I trust.”

Yeah, still the same old Esta Rosa. Nothing’s changed.

A few months passed and Esta Rosa texted me and said she was hospitalized and wanted me to come visit. So I asked my mother to drive me there and I saw Esta Rosa, beaten, and very, very skinny. Apparently she had been jumped by 8 members of a gang and Esta Rosa had no help, as she never asked for help from anyone, not even me. ”Ha, that expression on your face is priceless Nassy (That’s what she called me).”

“You look like you just discovered satan was your father or something.” “Do you have any idea the situation, you’re in? And you’re making jokes?”

“Oh, shut up, I knew this was going to happen someday.”

“You’re so reckless, why didn’t you call anyone?”

“Do you really think I have friends to call? And even if I did I still would have done the same thing because I am Esta Rosa and I live by my own agenda.”

“I know, but look at you, if you were sleeping I would’ve thought you were dead!” “ Well, I will be in a few days so just shut up until I do will you? I might haunt you if you don’t.”

That was our last conversation together, and I never knew what her disease was but the fight she was in apparently caused internal bleeding and that was the final straw. Esta Rosa may have not been the best human, but I respect her. She lived by her own morals and own set of beliefs that didn’t blend in with the rest of the crowd as some people might say; she was fierce, confident and strong. Maybe I thought she was interesting because she was different from the people I see every day.

R.I.P Esta Rosa 2001-2017.

P.S. I never asked for her last name.

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The Closet of Hell By: Giovanni Zangiacomi

The day started like no other. I woke up to my mother yelling at me that I was going to be late for preschool. I woke up easily as a four year old. My mom woke me up and fed me the worst breakfast. All I had to do is just go through the motions. I didn’t have to do anything but go to school. My mom was still yelling at me to go downstairs. As I went down the stairs, I saw my dog. My dog usually moves when he sees me but that day differed. It energizes my day but that day I went from a cheerful person to substandard kid.

I got to the Chrysler Town and Country that has been fixed more times then a rough draft. My mom sped the minivan toward the right and parked that monstrous vehicle before Alice’s Friendly Day Care with no time to spare. I entered the room, told the front desk lady I was there and went to my desk. I entered the room with an uneasy feeling. After that I noticed that the teacher looked at me like I just stole her new purse.

I silently walked to my desk and said “Hi” to my friend, John.

John and I have known each other for years. He had black gelled hair and white skin that could be seen from miles away. We both play the same sport and liked the same cartoons. We knew each other really well. We talked about cars and other topics at that time. The teacher warned the class to be quiet. She stared straight at me with that death stare. When you were a little kid getting that stare, you knew that you were in deep trouble.

I didn’t care at that time because I knew that teachers would always forget about it. She went on to the lesson and dismissed us to lunch.

I went to lunch and sat down waiting to get my food. I got my lunch, ate it, and went straight to my table waiting for John. My teacher looked at us the entire time. She got fed up with something that we were doing. She took us by our shirts and shoved us into a closet. It was very dark and really creepy. The smell in the closet was awful. It reminded me of a prison during the medieval ages. John was crying for help.

He wouldn’t shut up because he didn’t believe that we were were playing hide and seek.We stayed there for hours until the locked turned. The teacher took me and got my backpack and brought me to my mother. The day went on as usual until I remembered everything that happened and it came out the wrong way. I tried to forget about it unsuccessfully and it had haunted me for years until I finally did. Nothing will ever be the same.

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Untitled By: Josue Reyes

When I was 6 years old I was a child who could not make decisions for himself. If I could have made my own decisions, I would have remained in the Dominican Republic. I was happy living in the Dominican Republic, but I had to move to the United States. My grandma was taken to the United States by her brother. It took a lot of time and effort to bring the whole family. My mom did not come with us. My dad did, and did not marry my mom if he had done so, she would be here right now by my side.

My Grandma did all the paperwork. She started the paperwork when I was 1 year old. It took 5 years to complete the process. I had no choice, but I felt happy that I was going somewhere. When all of my bags were packed and I got to the building where the paperwork was being worked on, I did not know what was about to happen, but I was still happy. However, as soon as I heard that my mom was not coming with me, I was devastated. I just cried.

Once I got to the United States, the only thing I did was cry. My whole family was all cooped up in one apartment. I missed my mom so much. I had nothing to do without her. My mom and Grandparents all miss me. All I can say is that I have grown a lot since then. Facetiming with my mom has helped to fill the void, and maturing has helped to decrease the strong sense of dependence on my mother. I have made friends and have let life goals keep me motivated. Although I still prefer to be in the Dominican Republic, I have adapted to life in the United States and started a good career for myself. Someday I will be Financially independent and can return to the Dominican Republic if I want.

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Untitled By: Anonymous

This was not one of those special days like we usually have and I started to wonder why is nothing exciting happening. My school is an allboys private school, but it was not just an ordinary all-boys private school that you would be enrolled in. In fact, my school is very famous and is known by very important people across the world or will be (the only place our school has not ventured to yet is South America). My school’s name is Newark Boys Chorus School or NBCS for short. Unfortunately, here at NBCS was the most chaotic, the most dreadful and the most frustrating day ever to behold. I was already troubled by involving the trip to Maryland. So, when I got back and I had to deal with someone else’s problems… I kind of felt a little moody.

The choir got chewed out by our music director again, so that was that. He said that we were acting out again and that we were getting out of control. I always thought that was our problem, which it is, but I think going crazy and out of control is what is expected of us. We are middle-schooler’s after all, I am only 12 and in the 6th grade, and on top of that we are all boys that will become teens next year so, yeah. However, what made this day the worst was making her cry. I never thought as soon as I walked through those clear and welcoming glass doors, that I would be stepping in a labyrinth of disaster. I was perplexed as to what was happening and why my exuberant teacher, that always comforted us, was crying? I thought her boyfriend broke up with her, but then I remembered that she doesn’t have a boyfriend. I tried asking her, but she was already outside with her bags in her car and ready to pull off. I couldn’t believe my ears for a second because as she was about to pull off, the principal asked “Why is your English teacher upset?” and someone said that a kid in 7th grade was talking back to her. When I heard that name I was furious that I spoke rubbish. I didn’t do anything at all in response to my English teacher nearly leaving, though. I guess it’s because she did some bulls*** to me as well and to be blunt, she is the reason why I don’t ask questions as much as I used to, that’s karma for you. I can’t remember it in detail, but it was weeks before spring break when my grandmother was still alive, before she died of an aneurysm in her neck from high blood pressure. My English teacher was making us read

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“Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets”, I didn’t understand something important about the book and I asked a question. It was probably the way I phrased the question or she already answered that question a long time ago, but everyone gradually began to laugh. I was perplexed, why everyone was laughing at my question. Then I understood that my English teacher corrected me under her breath. I didn’t know why she didn’t say it aloud, so I got frustrated and then I began to whimper. Then my throat got all choked up, my voice was shaky, and I gradually began to cry my eyes out. I wanted to blame her, but she corrected me, but it was the way she did it that rubbed me the wrong way. I wanted to scream “Why would you say something to me in such a manner when I just wanted a better understanding of the book?”. However, I couldn’t because it was Ms.G and everyone loved her because she was a very social person, while I was so antisocial that I didn’t have many people that I would consider my friend. So, I stood there as a pathetic child that cries because everyone is laughing at him. Then Ms.G took me into the next room. She made sure no one could hear her and began apologizing to me about the class’ laughter at everything and told me everything is going to be okay. I felt like saying that it was her fault, but then I gave up and just said “Okay”. This was about me feeling sorry for myself and that I used to be as cowardly as a snail. Now, I am not as pathetic as I was 2 years ago, I am Shemaiah Johnson, I am 14 years old, and I currently attend NBCS. I am leaving the school this year as a graduate from NBCS, but the truth is that I am not ready to leave just yet. I may treat everyone as an asshole, but that does not mean I dislike or hate the people I spent the past 3 years of my life with. To leave my school behind is like smearing “GO TO HELL” in blood all over an enormous wall. That’s why I tried something stupid that would have affected all of my life choices and leave me only one option, which is to work a minimum wage job. So, I said to myself that the best things in life only last a while or a lifetime.

Good things may leave you, but you will always be left with part any good thing that crosses your path.

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Untitled

By: Matthew Meles

During the time between my birth and my pre-teen years, I had sat through numerous disputes between my parents. These feuds were notably hazardous towards my innocent mind, in particular when I was about 11 years old a verbal brawl broke out amongst my parents that resulted in an outcome where my mother temporarily left our house. I was too young to comprehend anything that was going on until words turned to beatings where my mother and father scolded one another to leave the house, until my mother eventually stormed out the front door.

Prior to the start of the quarrel, I had always noticed that my parents had bad blood rushing through their relationship, but not enough to cause a divorce.

I laid in my bed fiddling with my Nintendo D.S. until an eruption of sound sprung up from downstairs. I then swiftly hopped out of bed straight into a sprint to the living room. There I had found my mother and father throwing up hand gestures while grabbing at each other in the foreign language they speak, Tigrinya. The words lead them into each others’ faces, slowly becoming more violent. I hadn’t known what the subject of the argument was, but I knew it was similar to the brawls my brother and I had routinely.

Crept up behind a wall I was able to make out some of the words that each other they were saying including, “get out of my house!” I started to feel a feeling in the center of my torso. Then suddenly, my mother and I started crying which was unusual. My mother promptly snatched her handbag along with her car keys and ripped the front door open to storm out. A frenzy of tears dropped from my eyes. I was abandoned. For the week that I was gone, I pretended to not know of the situation. While I suffered on the inside.

The week that my mother was gone, I continuously found myself drenched in tears. Until my mother startlingly walked through the front door once again.

My body subconsciously hurled itself towards my mother, hugging her. I hated her for leaving me, but soon enough that hatred sank with her reappearance.

Now that I’m 15 years old, I can still say that I’m unable to last another week without my mother.

In conclusion while this experience may have had a negative effect on me while I was younger, I was able to take away key values that I still go by ‘till this day. This experience helped to carve out the person I am today.

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Untitled

By: Ryan Terran Happiness is something that I had before my parents took it away from me. It was about two or three days until my 8th grade year at St. Benedict’s. I was playing games with my sister on my laptop. My mom spent hours and hours of getting ready to go to a concert with her friends. We were all happy as a family enjoying time together until my mom’s friend’s car pulled up, which is when my whole life changed.

In the car there were three women and a man. It was supposed to be a “girls night out” so my dad wanted to meet him. The look on my mother’s face was anxious and nervous. She instantly refused and made it a bigger deal. They kept arguing, until my dad took her phone and read her messages.

My dad said “Who the fuck is Mike!” I was shaking and crying. They both walked into my sister’s room.

I was in the same posture, frozen, I couldn’t move or talk. My mom started screaming. My dad had beaten her. She walked out of the room terrified. Her cheekbone was broken. The more they yelled the more I cried. I wanted to end it all. I wanted to end my life. Things were already bad, but I knew it would be rough for my sister. After that, my mom called the police to arrest my dad for assault. I didn’t want him to leave. I would be useless without him. After the arrest I panicked and called my aunt to pick me up. My mom decided to go to the hospital.

The decision was tough. It was either my mom or my aunt. I was already angry with my mom so i went with my aunt. My mom’s face was filled with disappointment. She forced my helpless sister to go with her.

At my aunt’s house, I was crying and hoping I could die. “I can’t be dead, I said. It was alive just a minute ago,” (Greek, 126). This quote represents my feelings five minutes before this incident. I didn’t know who I was and I’m still trying to figure it out until this day.

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The Lies We Tell By: Justin Agyare

I have been lied to so much that I can not tell the difference between the truth and a lie. My life has been so filled with lies that I think it’s okay to like a liar. I can’t say I haven’t made a promise or a swear and kept it, but that goes to prove that everybody does it. My whole life has been like that. People in my life and myself can’t keep our promises.

My father promised me a better life and relationship with him if I lie in court, which I did and I regret it till this day. My grandmother said she would buy me sneakers if I got a shot when I used to live with her when I was six. She promised to love me till she dies but then said “I wish I never had you.” I also made a promise to do all my homework, and I have missed almost of all my homework. I want you to think of a time you made a promise and didn’t keep it.

Now that you have that in mind, how do you feel? If you have a chance to keep, your promise will you do it? How did the person you made the promise to feel? Do promises mean anything to you? So if you are still reading this, then what I mean by saying this lie many times. People get lied to a lot. According to the Book of Genesis, the first lie was “The Old Serpent, the devil, father of lies.” It traces back to the time of Israel being in Egypt. I know you’re wondering what this reveals about me. I am a liar. I have lied to have relationships, lied to save my friends or loved ones, I have lied to get people in trouble or get myself out of trouble. A lie is like an addiction, once you get used to doing it, it is hard to quit. The worst lie I told was when I was under oath, I lied for a worthless, foolish bastard who abandoned his own kind for someone else’s kid. Let’s go a woman with education and class like my mother for a woman who didn’t complete the 6th grade.

My mother is Maryann Sophie Aglare. My mother is the best, but I betrayed her trust. I dishonored and disgraced her in court for a fucking prick. My mother has four kids including myself. She has two jobs just to support me. My mother has raised my siblings who are now functioning and independent members of society, all have finished college. My mother has suffered enough, I tell her every day I will buy her a house when I get older. My mother pays my tuition, tends to my wants, and takes me to my appointments. I owe my life to her.my life. Without her I would not be in St. Benedict’s Preparatory School. My mother says we are rich. I don’t see it. I have four Uncles and six Aunts who live in England, one of my Uncles are rich. My mother doesn’t ask for help. I am so thankful for her life, I pray I don’t lie again.

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5K

Llya Efremenko I’m concentrated. I know that the next 20 minutes will be full of pain, and I still want to go through it. I feel like I’m almost ready. Coach says that we have 2 minutes left before the start. I threw it away all not important thoughts and turn on the loudest playlist I had in my Spotify. After setting the rower to a 5000m row, I start to feel adrenaline in my blood. A few seconds left before the start, all I think about is my previous record.

“Set Ready,Attention,Row”said coach.

I sprint first 20 strokes to spend all the extra energy. It feels like I can continue sprinting, but I know that feeling won’t last for long. I don’t know what pace I should keep, so that I will not get tired early.

I am sweating, but it is freezing outside. It is one of the things that can make me pull not as hard as I have to. 3000 Meters left. I can’t afford a single stop, because it would mess up everything I worked hard for. I closed my eyes, but I could still feel the pain. Now when I don’t see the numbers, I can concentrate on my body. It feels like my lungs are full of water and my leg muscles are made out of heavy stone. I am not concentrated anymore. The confidence from the beginning of the test disappears. I can barely hear somebody behind me telling me what I should do. I can’t listen to him because I do not care.

All I care about is a hunger, a hunger for oxygen.

500 meters left and all I have to do is sprint. 50 strokes is nothing compared to the 450 that I just did. At that moment my technique was awful. I was not keeping my pace anymore, and my back looked like a question mark.

I forgot about the pain just for the last sprint.

I finished last, but I beat my record. I had that weird feeling you get when you don’t know whether you should be happy or mad. Nobody cares if I beat my record. People only care if I beat their record. This 5k time is something good for me, but bad for others. This feeling messed up everything I worked hard for. Not my mistake, not someone else’s, just one feeling that made me reflect on what just happened.

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Two Face

By: Nathaniel Smith My mother is one of the greatest people you’ll ever meet… when we’re outside of the house. If we had a parent-teacher conference, you’d think my mom is an outstanding parent. Especially with my academics.

Not that she isn’t a great parent., but, if you take a trip to my location of dwelling, you’ll see the bull. My mom knows how to act. In public, she can be this angel that everyone looks up too. But in the house?! That’s an entirely different situation. My mom is the same way she is outside. But, she’s immensely annoying, a bit selfish, disrespectful, and doesn’t listen as much as we all need her too. She won’t get the fact that she’s not a man just because she had to take care of my little sister and me for a long time before she met my step-dad.

My mom comes up with excuses so much and it kills me to say, but, it starts to sound like she’s lying and I hate it. I hate it with a passion. My mom is selfish. She doesn’t know when enough is enough. But, there are those times where I just wanna curse that woman out. If she’s learned when to stop, maybe our relationship wouldn’t be so damn fractured. But, I don’t think that she’s realized that her bad habits are what gets in the way of a relationship. Her and my dad’s relationship, her and my brother’s relationships, and she and my sisters’ relationship. But I know she’ll figure it out sometime soon. And also, that lady is bipolar as hell! She’ll be happy one minute and the next she’s freaking yelling at someone or arguing with my dad. And she proved herself guilty yesterday.

She and my dad were arguing, but, she only bought herself up as if she’s the innocent one this time, which she actually is. My dad was playing around and said something about my mom and being a man or acting like a man or looking like a man. It was something along those lines. But, my mom got offended and started crying and what not. My dad apologized for what he said and said that he was coming in a playful manner. But, my mom keeps on bringing herself up in the argument. She proved that she’s selfish and self-conceited.

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Untitled

By: Jordan Vera My name is Jordan Vera.

I was born in Madrid, Spain I lived there for 11 years until I got to this country on Christmas of 2013. That day I didn’t want anything else but to go back to Spain. I didn’t like this country at all. At first, it was so cold and then it got worse. I didn’t feel right in this country. I didn’t even know why I was in this country until my mom told me.

I was listening to your story about you and your daughter and I was thinking about my relationship with my dad and it wasn’t the best. He didn’t get along with my mom or brother. I was his favorite, but I never liked that because he treated me different. He wasn’t there when we needed him. He was always doing God knows what.

The only times I was with him was when we would go out to play soccer.

He was the only person who taught me how to play soccer and pushed me to do my best. At times I wonder what he was thinking when he left us.

The only memories I have with him are us playing soccer together. Soccer impacted my life a lot because that was the only way I could bring my dad and me together.

Sometimes people aren’t as you expect them to be. My mom taught me a lot that my dad could not. I made a promise with myself that I would never leave my family my dad left us. Even though my mom doesn’t like talking about him unless we are on the phone with him.

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Teacher Assumption By: Chigozie Okoro

My name is Chigozie Michael Okoro and I live in Irvington, New Jersey. I am a freshman at St. Benedict’s Prep, and I have a very good reputation here. I came into St.Benedict’s ready to work knowing it will help me. In this, you must always be on your behavior because you are judged off everything by students and teachers. At St. Benedict’s if the teachers see you in the trophy room they assume I am in trouble. They also assume that I am one of the bad kids who do their work and fool around in class but they know little about me. All they do is assume and then once you go into that one teacher’s classroom which already has bad intentions of you and when you say one word they’re already on your ass. It’s crazy! In the 7th I had experienced this same incident.

In the 7th grade, I came into school energized and ready to work until one new kid named Davion came and ruined my day. Davion, the new kid, shoved me and when he showed me all I said was next time say excuse me, that’s all I said. Then he turned around thinking he could get big with someone when they just came to the school. After all this he started cursing me out, so you know me I am a civilized person until someone really ticks me off that is exactly what he did. He decided to push me and when he did I asked him if there was something wrong with his head. Now people who know me know I wouldn’t let anyone touch me if we’re not friends, so I pushed him back. Then, he threw a punch at me, and I punched him back. While we were brawling, I decided to push him off. Then all of a sudden a teacher walked by saw me push him and instead of being a teacher he decided to be a prick. He decided to blame everything on me because he saw me put my hands on him. I understand that but despite all the evidence I had he still decided to take the side of the new kid just because I “know better.” My response to that stupidity was, is this his first time at a school, shouldn’t he know how to act.

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Untitled

By: Jahlil Cook A horrific event took place about a week ago around September 23. I was attending religion class during my second block, as usual. The treacherous class that I have to take. All we do during class is copy down whatever the teacher writes down on the board. Whenever someone has an objection to something he says, he seems to always have an answer. His answer, you wouldn’t guess it, Jesus did this or God is the reason for that. You know, the typical religious biased crap. However, this day differed, not because of the weather or the day of the week or any of that nonsense. It was different because the seating of the room was adjusted greatly. We usually sit in straight rows and are basically robots for the remaining class period, doing whatever the teacher tells us because if we start to think about the things he tells us and bring it up, we were damn near crucified for it. Well, this particular day we were put in a circle. Something just felt weird, not entirely because of the seating arrangement but because of the mood of the room. It just felt like I was finally free. Free from being stapled to our seats, and our eyes glued to the Promethean board listening to the man speak.

We were supposed to discuss and find a way for the class to be more “respectful” and “cooperative” because the class would talk when they were getting bored out of their mind from copying things on the board for 20 minutes straight.

The teacher didn’t appreciate this too much. He left us in the room by ourselves to give us time to discuss. We didn’t take the whole thing seriously because we got bored. We aren’t robots, we are human beings and our attention spans are out of whack when we aren’t interested in something.

When the teacher entered the classroom he asked us to share solutions. What we can change so that class would run more smoothly, mostly in his favor? He only wants us to be quiet the entire class and be robots. Some people said that we should just be quiet or be awake when that’s obvious, but have to prevent that problem from occurring in the 1st place. So I shared my solution, basically as an experiment, to change curriculum of the class to see if students would be more interested and interactive in this alternative type of learning than the boring original one. Before I could finish my sentence, this man cried out “Bullshit,” then went on a rant about how he’d been teaching this way for all of his teaching career. I wasn’t interested in what he was asking after he said “Bullshit.” I found that very disrespectful. I felt violated because this man is complaining about the class not showing him respect, yet he disrespects me.

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Untitled

By: Jacob Amaro

Cleaning out a closet at my grandma’s house, I stumbled upon the first magazine I ever enjoyed. My 12-year-old self revelled in page after page of gorgeous men. I had realized I was gay only a year before, but my other reality, my Roman Catholic faith, had already begun to conflict with that part of me. Theoretically, I could have solved the problem by leaving the Church or trying to become a heterosexual. But I didn’t. I had already begun to accept that I was gay, and I had long accepted and loved my faith.

The decision I made at the time to be who I was, however, would only cause me problems in the coming years.

I learned I was gay when I could no longer keep my head straight in the classroom. During any split second of free time, I would turn toward a particular classmate. I couldn’t understand why, but I wanted to be—and just be—with that classmate. Though my infatuation never led to anything, it wasn’t a dead end. It was, rather, the start of a journey—a journey of growth and self-discovery. Through the next year, I continued to discover what it meant to be gay. That magazine, which I had hidden under my mattress, had become ragged from my many visits. I was growing in love and acceptance for who I was.

Then in the following year, my older sister came out as lesbian to my Catholic parents, and things didn’t go well. They made her go to conversion therapy. I felt bad for my sister, and I began to feel bad about myself.

Constantly anxious, I worried that my parents would find out about my homosexuality, and I worried that someone at church would find out, too.

I hid. The closet became my home. Only, it wasn’t really a home; it was a cell, and I was suffocating in it.

At this time, I needed my faith. I needed God. I had been taught all my life to lean on Him, and on several occasions, I had seen his grace in my life, but now I could no longer see Him. The light that once found its way through the hinges of the closet door was no longer there. I was angry at God for making me gay and equally angry at the people at church for their attitude toward homosexuality. Many members there believed homosexuality to be a condition stemming from an abusive past. But my sexuality wasn’t—and isn’t—a condition. I was never subjected to anything that could have “made” me gay. I was born gay.

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But I listened to them, even though it was killing my spirit; I had too much respect for my church. If I had kept on, I would have died, driven myself to suicide; but I found a savior, a close friend at school, two years later. This friend, who is also gay, taught me that I didn’t have to be ashamed of who I was—that I didn’t have to worry about what those people believed about me. A devout Catholic himself, he told me that it was okay to question God, as long as I remembered that God loves me unconditionally as I am.

Thanks to that relationship, I learned how to love myself, for who I was, unconditionally. And there’s more. God has, in all my confusion, accompanied me: My parents, over the past year, began to understand my sister and, over the past month, began to understand me. I came out to them on Saturday, November 17, 2018. What I had feared my whole life, what I thought would be an experience of hell on earth, was instead an experience of unconditional love. Going forward, I have nothing to fear. That magazine? It now hangs framed on my bedroom wall. I’m free.

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Untitled

By: Adrian -Paul Morgan

Arms shaking, fingers trembling and nothing but the race on my mind. I wait for what seemed like ages for that one word to erupt from my relay teammate. In my head, I go over what we had practiced for hours.

It was now or never, and now was our time to shine. I hear my teammate scream, “GO!” It’s time to take care of business.

Weeks prior, coach had been on our backs, subjecting us to grueling practices. I hated it. We all hated it. Each day consisted of lunges, painful core and endless critique. The better days for us were always hurdle days.

Mainly because it allowed us to get away from all the other workouts. Hearing, “go get your spikes,” was always music to our ears. The team loved everything about hurdling, and couldn’t wait for the chance to actually put what we learned into practice. These primary hurdle practices allowed us to really show our stuff and get a feel for what we had down and what we had to work on. And a feel is certainly what we got; endless amounts of cuts, scrapes, and bruises after only a week’s worth of hurdling. If anything, I can say we spent more time falling flat on our faces than clearing any hurdles.

But I’m glad to say that it all paid off and allowed us to place as national qualifiers.

When the time came, I felt a feeling that was unlike any other. Imagine being in a building consisting of hundreds of athletes, just as hungry as you are to win, but you’re so deep in focus to the point where it’s almost like not a soul was in that building. We all felt this way, all four of us. We knew what had to be done, and time was winding down to the very moment for us to put on a spectacle down that 55-meter track. The feeling during that race remains quite foggy to me. I vaguely remember the atmosphere around me slowing to a snail’s pace. Almost as if I was racing time itself and it was too slow to keep up with me. The post race feeling, however, wasn’t the sweet cheery feeling that was anticipated. Instead, cuss words filled the air from progressive anger fueled by us falling short of our true potential. Granted, we hit a good enough time, allowing us to become national qualifiers, but the knowledge that we could’ve done better hung above us like a heavy cloud. We needed a better time to gain some better competitors for nationals, and we had one more meet to do. That was one thing about our team, despite a victory or accomplishment, we know there was always room for improvement.

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Almost immediately it was back to the drawing board.

We analyzed everything from our starts to where to shout in order for our teammate to go.

Weeks and weeks of technical work went by in order to pave the way for that better time. We only had one meet left, and blowing this opportunity was not an option. In short, we came out on top with a better time and newfound placement amongst better competition on the national stage. Who knew that four guys who knew absolutely nothing about hurdling would reach such a high caliber? None of us did, and I’m more than proud that we have made it so far.

But we have further to go. We can’t stop and won’t stop. We will remain hungry until the very end, going harder and harder everyday as the challenges grow in difficulty. We are top notch, working on surpassing that title. Working on going down in SBP’s books. We are the Saint Benedict’s hurdle squad!

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Birthdays

By: Dario Guzman I was 10 when it started. That year and every year since on my birthday, I would end up in tears. Sometimes it was out of anger. Sometimes sadness. Sometimes just pure frustration and confusion. But not on my 17th birthday. This year instead of shedding a few more tears, I came upon 3 revelations. I learned that the hardest choices require the strongest will. I found that not everyone you love deserves your trust. And I saw that happiness is the only thing you need.

My birthday started out with the ringing from one of my many alarms I have set for the morning. I rolled over to hit the snooze button before the annoying beeping drove me crazy. Seconds later a text from my friend lit up my screen, but not my face. My friend and I recently had problems with each other,but it seemed to be that she really needed my help. She and my other friend had been dating on and off and yet again I was being pulled right into the middle of it all.

I got out of bed, threw on my uniform, and went outside where I found my mom waiting patiently in the car. “Happy Birthday,” she said. But at the same time I heard a voice coming from her phone. It was my father whom I hadn’t spoken to in a while, so I was surprised that he even remembered it was my birthday. As happy as the day should be, my heart was cold.

I didn’t want to acknowledge that my father was on the phone. My silence was short lived. The look on my mother’s face told me what I had to say.

“Thank you,” I said as enthusiastically as I could mutter, but he didn’t seem to notice. My father then went on to talk about how he was going to come and see me. Despite the initial awkwardness, I was actually pretty excited. I love my dad, but he’s just never around enough to show some love back. As we pulled up to the school, I said my goodbyes and I ran up those front steps, preparing for what’s waiting for me on the other side of those doors.

As I continued with my morning, messages of birthday wishes flooded my phone, but one stood out from the rest. A girl that I’ve known since kindergarten posted a picture of me with a caption that read “Even though we’ve only been together for a month now its the happiest I’ve ever been and I love and appreciate you so much. Everytime I look back I never would’ve guessed that this is how we would end up, but I’m happy we did. I miss you sooooooo much and I hope you have a wonderful birthday!”

We had been catching up over the last few months and have been closer than ever. This really put my day back on track and had me in a really good mood.

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But then I got another message from one of my friends who have been fighting and the girl tells me how scared she is and that she doesn’t know what to do. At this point I realized I needed to end this. I went down to the lobby and called my friend’s mother and told her everything her son has been saying and doing to my friend. ”He did WHAT!?,” she said in utter disbelief. Even though I know I did the right thing, for some reason there was still this pit in my stomach that just wouldn’t go away. I didn’t want to get him in trouble, but I knew that doing nothing would’ve done more harm than good.

Even though I’m sure I had just lost a friend, the rest of the day went pretty well. I skipped practice and went straight home where I could finally relax and enjoy my birthday with my mom and dad. I arrived to a quiet home. No decorations. No music. No dad. Just my mom waiting for me in the living room. She sat me down on the couch and put her hand on my shoulder like she was about to give me some bad news. “Ma, where’s Papa?” I asked. “I’m sorry mijo, but Papa can’t make it.” I didn’t respond, but I think the look on my face said enough. I don’t know why I did that.

Trust. I trusted him and yet again I was the one left wounded by his lies.

Here I was again back to the same routine of a disappointment for a birthday.

I locked myself in my room. I put in my earbuds and let my music put me to sleep. A couple of hours later I woke to the sound of people moving around the floor below me. It was too much to just be my mom and my grandma, so I fixed myself up and slowly crept down the stairs. My house filled with friends and family: Tio Rolando, Titi Jacky, Tio Rafilito, my abuelo, my older cousins, and a few friends. I was so confused because if there was a party going on I know I wasn’t invited. I made my way down the rest of the steps and when I was finally noticed everyone shouted “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” I didn’t know who set it up or why I wasn’t told, but that didn’t matter anymore. Because I was happy and that’s all I ever wanted.

This day could be described as many things, perfect not being one of them. I realize now that I am okay with that. I made choices, grew up, and found happiness.

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Sirens

By: Nigel Edwards I’m in a room filled with smoke. I’m crawling on my knees. Feeling around the furniture looking for the body I’m supposed to rescue. As I hear the sirens wailing faintly in the background, I wonder what I have gotten myself into.

Have you ever thought you’d regret something but in reality it turned out well? One summer all my friends went to North Carolina for 2 weeks to attend basketball camp and it sounded like it was perfect. I wanted to go so badly because I had just started basketball and I wanted to become better but my mom wouldn’t let me go to the camp. She made me try to get a job but I wasn’t old enough so I had to volunteer. This kept me angry because I really wanted to be with my friends and basketball but it didn’t work.

Eventually, I went to sign up and get a “job.” A week later of waiting, I got a letter and it said that I was accepted and stationed at a Fire Station.

It was a hot, sunny day and I arrived at this big building. It was made of bricks and reminded me of jail, being that it was so dull. As I stood there wondering where I was, another car pulled up and another kid hopped out, bewildered just as I was. As more and more people came into the scene, a door opened and a big, tall guy led us through almost as if we entered the gates of hell. It was burning hot inside and I felt my lungs burn as if they were on fire. It wa the first day, and we had to clean this big fire station, the bedrooms, workout room, and fire trucks. It was tiresome. We had old mops and brooms. When we used them, they filled me with disgust. Not only did we have to clean but they made us sit in this cold room where they blasted the air conditioning. It seemed as if this was the only room where there was cold air but it wasn’t the best. It felt so cold that icicles could form on the walls and my bones would freeze to a point where I couldn’t move. We learned about being a firefighter and past events that have happened within the firefighting career. Day after day, all we did was clean and learn. I felt like I was in school because everything was boring.

One day, things started changing. We all came in because it was a group of about 12 of us, and they told us that we were going to go to a school to help set up and participate in a day of play for little kids. All day we just played games with kids, blowing balloons and putting on demonstrations of how the valves and nozzles worked on the Engine.

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After this day, things started to get better and better. I was having more respect for my area, making sure it was clean. I began respecting others more and my overall morale was more lively. I used to not care about anything or anyone. This program seemed to turn my life around. How I treated others was how I wanted to be treated and I made sure that I did the right thing. I also started to like firefighting and wanted to learn more and more about what exactly happened. I came in with a smile on my face ready to work.

I had thought this program was a waste of time and was going to be boring because it wasn’t what I wanted to do for my summer. But it panned out better than expected. As the program began to come to an end, my firefighter captain told us that in the fall, there was going to be a program where we could continue to learn and train to become junior firefighters. I was mesmerized by the idea.

Five months later, it’s drill time in the Fire House. I run upstairs with my group and put on my air tank, mask on so I am able to breathe. Now I’m ready to go. We go through the protocol rundown of this situation. We feel the door with the back of our hands, warm. It’s safe to go in. We all back up, get on our knees, and open the door to the charred room. It’s hot and I’m sweating, nervous because I am afraid I may not be able to retrieve the person. But that is no way to think when doing your job. I’m in a room filled with smoke, crawling on my knees as I feel around the room. I hear loud sirens coming from outside. We keep moving and come up to a tight area when our leader says he is going to go in. We will wait for him on the other side.

We stick together and I hear her say she has found someone and is coming back to us. I am relieved. She comes back with a man about our size and we move with quickness to get out the same way we came in. After making sure everyone is okay, we reach the door and open it, crawling outside. Our captain congratulates us on completing the drill and safely bringing the dummy body to safety. I wipe off my sweat with a smile on my face.

I ended up taking the offer from my captain over the summer to come back and train for being a firefighter, a decision I will never regret. I became CPR certified, learned how to escape from a burning building and save others in the time of need. I learned respect and discipline along with holding myself to the highest standard. I know I can do anything as long as I put my mind to it. Agreeing with my mother to go into the summer program was the beginning to a changed me.

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Running Wild By: Dukens Dossous

The Track was beautiful. It glistened in the sunlight.

It was around the middle of the springtime and I was excited. The wind was blowing through everyone’s hair. You could hear the birds singing a beautiful melody. You could hear laughter and feel the excitement.

I was in 7th grade and this was my first track race. I remember I was nervous and I needed to use the bathroom as soon as I got on the track. It was at the high school, Union Catholic. I knew I was talented but I didn’t know how talented the other kids where.

I did other activities such as basketball and volleyball, but I had wanted to try something new. I was always the fastest of my friends. My coach told me to get ready to run and I wasn’t experienced at all. I didn’t know how to prepare so I went without any preparation.

My first race was the 200 meters and I was placed in the second lane of the track. All I knew was to run as soon as I heard the gunshot and that’s what I did. I saw in front of me the track and other people doing other activities. My mother was in the stands and so was my cousin. They were cheering for me. I couldn’t hear them but I could see them waving at me smiling.

I had to do well. It was a nice day- not too sunny, not too cold, not too hot. I pounded my feet on the red track. I was in the 1st heat running with 4 other people. I took off. I felt the wind rush to my face with every step I took.

My mind was blank. All I was thinking about was to get to the end as fast as I could. I heard the other runners pant. My friends yelled and cheered my name: DUKENS!!! Then a burst of speed came and it took me to the finish line. I finished in 1st place with a smile on my face. I was so happy, I couldn’t believe what happened. Everyone was proud of me and it was an amazing experience. Later that week I found out that we won the meet and we got the trophy. I was proud of myself and my teammates because we all pushed ourselves to do our best. We worked hard to help us succeed and that’s what we did.

We went on to other meets and were successful in those too. We were arguably the best in the schools that we faced against in track. I didn’t get first place in every meet that I ran, but as a school, we always did well.

Sometimes we even met future Olympians in some of our meets and they gave us some tips to do well in the future. I am currently doing track and enjoying my time with the team. I will keep doing track until my time is finished.

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Untitled

By: Alexander Cruz “Can people die from this sport?” I asked.

Coach Molina said, “ Of course not,” with a little smirk on his face. That didn’t help me feel any better. Mr. Molina fenced when he was a student here at St. Benedict’s and now he is the head coach.

It was my first day fencing and I was standing in the fencing room wearing a fencing jacket and pants which are called knickers. My legs were trembling with fear and worry. I was regretting my decision to come down here. I had no idea what was going on. All I saw were some teenage boys with swords in their hands going at it. In spite of being terrified, though, I also had a lot of curiosity about this sport. I wanted to learn.

Although this was my first day fencing, I had been in the fencing room before. I tried to be the fencing team manager. I tried it for one day and I was really bored. All I did was sit there and clean, I got water for the fencers and they pretty much just bossed me around. So I decided to try to fence myself.

That first day as a fencer we worked out harder than I ever thought I would. They made us do 200 push ups. It was the longest and most stressful count to 200 I had ever done. The practice outline was work out for about an hour and fifteen minutes, and then do some footwork, another painful workout.

After all that hard work and stress, we finished off practice with some free fencing. That’s when I was really scared. I was just thinking to myself, “ Am I really going to do this?”

Before you actually fence, the coaches have an older fencer show you the movement also known as “footwork.” They showed me how to move forward and backward; they also showed me how to hit someone in what’s called a lunge. The footwork is uncomfortable and weird but like anything else, you can get used to it.

Then came the biggest and scariest challenge. The practice time was coming to the end and the coaches had everybody fence, even me. Here we go again. My legs started to shake rapidly. I stepped on the strip and got “en garde.” I was scared but the director said the magic words, “Fencers ready...

Fence.” And we fenced. It actually didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would.

Maybe many students are scared, like I was, of getting hit. Or some just don’t find the sport interesting. I can say that I did not want to do this sport and it took some courage to try it.

Coach Molina always told me, “ You don’t know how good you are until you put it to the test.” I had no idea what fencing was and I could have never thought I would play a sport like fencing. But you don’t know until you try it.

Learning to fence is like learning how to walk. I’m glad I learned.

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High Schoold for Hollywood By: Sergio Villar

Walking through the halls, you expect to see the nerd getting shoved in his locker. Maybe all the school jocks and athletes crammed in one area, while the girls giggle and point at them. If you’re lucky, you’re part of the topic of conversation, of course part of them. Them being the popular guys that are all the buzz because of their physical prowess. One of the best parts?

Walking past the cute girl you’ve had your eye on for a long time. Blonde or brunette, she’s a sight for sore eyes. You wave or say hi, or just share a passing glance. That’s the kind of thing that happens at those high schools. But not at this one. Not at mine. None of that happens at St.Benedict’s Prep.

From the first day I stepped through the 520 entrances, I knew it wouldn’t be the same. I expected the absence of the school student-statues and knew it would also be a shift from what I had been used to at Belleville Middle School. Maybe the giveaway was the “all male prep school” wording I had seen. Of course it wasn’t like I had much of a choice to go to a different school. Of course it wasn’t like I had much of a choice to go to a different school. Better than a public school. A school of brothership, union, and leadership. Not a school from Hollywood, but a school for reality. The thing is, this reality could be cruel. Especially for someone like me. Who was me?

Who was I exactly, though. Oh, I know.

7th grade: “You’re fat, ugly. Slow. Didn’t make the cut for the soccer team.” 8th grade “Finally lost that weight. Crossfit. Barely made the soccer team this year. Only a bench boy, waterboy. No game time. Good grades.

Friends talking behind my back. Saying I suck at soccer. No skill. Teacher’s pet.” 9th grade: Look at that, athletically peaked. Still didn’t make the cut this year for the soccer team.”

In the fantasy I dreamed about, if I were part of the story, I may have been the nerd getting shoved in the locker. That was who I was, and what I’d go through my school years as. Eventually, things did change for the better, right? Some things change, but others don’t. I made close friends that stuck with me, even though I began to change. The whispers I heard from time to time still remained. It was the cruel, demeaning words that surely put me down where I am an animal. That was just some of it, but some of it was enough to make me wonder. Should I stay or should I go? That was and still is a recurring thought on my mind. Constantly. Could there have been a different high school from my dreams? Is there still a chance for one?

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We have private and public schools, and a fine line separating their standards apart. Especially mine, in the heart of Newark. What about Belleville Middle School? High school? What if I had stayed? What if I had never learnt about St.Benedict’s, and had just gone to high school and spent my years there? Would my opportunities have left me or lead me? That was no high school for me. Maybe it had the environment or mirage of a high school, but there was nothing in it that was worth staying for. Not even for me. The students there failing English classes and history classes. Mixing up historical dates and not being able to pass a single science test. The standard below-average students, failing their classes, with some exceptions. Oh yes, many horrible events took place at that school. How very diverse the school was. Not the good kind, though. That was no high school from Hollywood either. There weren’t going to be wholesome, and kind hearted cheerleaders there, or a good friend to make who would stay with me. Just a friend who would plead for my answers and homework. Some people are lucky. All kinds of clubs. But where lies the high school for an actor like me? Where was the high school from Hollywood for me? How ambiguous.

Maybe that’s what I call lucky. Maybe that’s what I believe is privileged. Maybe in reality and actuality I’m lucky too. I go to St.Benedict’s Prep. You hear all about it. You just happen to see a bus of soccer players coming from St.Benedict’s arriving on your school’s field, facing off against your school’s team. Then, as you sit cheering, you wonder who you’re really cheering for. Probably the team that has a 9-2 leading. “ That’s Benedict’s for you.” The students you see on “60 Minutes” and great things going on in the heart of Newark. I managed to overcome the harassment from my adversaries in the class and out on the waters, track, and the field. Some of them are even now close friends. Maybe this isn’t a high school you’ll find in Hollywood. But it sure is a high school for me. And who knows? There’s always a university out there waiting for me. Maybe there are the dorm parties and friends to be made out there after all of this.

And with that, maybe even the cute girl out there.

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Unfortunate Sweets By: Taylor Grant

I lied about eating a lot of candy and hiding the wrappers into the radiator and behind the refrigerator. When I lied, it was the first time I had ever seen my dad cry. He had believed me. The point I am trying to make is that a lie over something so simple would change how my parents viewed me.

That day I had gotten a dollar instead of the usual quarter from my father. I ran down to the corner store. Since this was unusual for me, I wanted to try something new. I decided to buy “Fruities.” The candy came in wrappers and were packed into yellow bags, relatively large for a nine year old. On the bus, making my way back home, my brother saw what I was eating and asked for some. I was in a bit of a bad mood because I had been falsely punished at school. Me being in that mood, I said no. My brother then went into a rant about how often he has to share with me. Devon (my brother) said, “You could at least pay me back with five pieces.”

The candies had 50-60 in a bag so it was selfish of me. I can blame Devon for causing a scene on the bus. My dad, not wanting us to argue, asked us to “cut it out” in his heavily Jamaican accented voice. My dad asked what the arguing was about. I said, “Devon wants me to share my candy but I don’t want to .”

My dad said I should always share, and I can only have one piece a day. I was quiet the rest of the way home. Right before my mom came home, I ate my one piece of candy. I was craving more...a lot more, so I ate the whole bag. I tried to hide the evidence. I did try, very hard. I thought about all the hiding spots a nine-year old would think were good. I saw an opportunity to get away with the “crime” I just committed. I then I proceeded to stuff the wrappers behind the refrigerator. I stuffed the remaining 30-40 wrappers in the vents of the radiator. My parents looked at me like they already knew. So I lied. I said, ‘It was not me it was Devon.”

Not only did I lie to my parents, I lied about my brother when he did nothing. My dad knew it was me because my brother wasn’t there at the time. My dad started to cry. My first time ever seeing the “Superman” in my life cry. I also began to cry. When my mom followed him crying, I fell to my knees. It broke my heart into pieces.

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The Monsters By: John Gomez

The day was going by quicker than a big man chugging water. The sun was slowly descending, and the sunset looked beautiful. It was turning out to be a nice winter day. But strange things were starting to happen down neck Newark, NJ. On Broad Street, the weather all of the sudden turned from the North Pole to Florida. Flowers started to come alive at 6:00 pm and weird looking creatures started to jump in front of cars and speeding trains.

One would think a car going at 30 mph would be powerful enough to make a creature at least bleed but no. Authorities couldn’t determine what these creatures could be and why they, of all places, come to a “cold” city like Newark.

Finally, around 10:00 pm, when children and parents are supposed to be sleeping but they are awake and locked in their homes; nobody on the street and not a plane in the sky, the mayor of Newark came on the news and announced that these creatures were not here to cause any havoc. They were not to be feared whatsoever.

A few months passed by and Newark was Newark again with all the monsters walking around. Some monsters are thieves, and some are studying in Harvard. These creatures came outta nowhere and they were accepted quicker than us Hispanics were accepted; then again, Trump still wants a wall and now there are monsters wanting to run for mayor and president.

There was one monster in particular that stood out. His name was BF — not for Boyfriend but for Bigfoot — the mythical creature that nobody had ever seen. A lot people judged him by the stories they had heard about him, and for a creature that was never properly introduced, it was unfair that a city with a lot worse people would judge him like this. On September 11, 2019, when America was mourning the men and women who died on that tragic day, a bomb threat came in and everyone was alarmed. The main target was Newark, NJ, - the home of the monster people. Military personnel were everywhere when suddenly the floor started to rumble. Missiles were coming this way. Everybody in Newark was scared; even the monsters. All except one: BF stepped up, showing the city that all the stories about him were not true. He stopped the missiles with the missiles themselves, sacrificing himself in the process.

He died a hero he will always be remembered as a hero.

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Green

By: Anton Fernando My life’s always been the same.

Every building, every book, every person.

I’m not even primary like my parents.

They are so different from me.

I see the humans use me to give their ink pictures life.

Tree leaves, bushes, money.

They all use me.

I am more than just a pigment.

I tell people to go when they drive.

I tell people that they got the right answer.

Mint.

Slime.

Ectoplasm.

All the gooey stuff.

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