RETURN OF A FRIEND

BY SOPHIA CHENG, 7

“Buddy . . . it’s the crack of dawn . . . I can’t play fetch with you right now,” moaned Scarlett as she was licked by a wet, rough tongue.

As she opened her tired eyes, she saw her energetic golden retriever giving her his signature puppy eyes. “Fine,” she relented. “Wait by the door.”

After Buddy trotted down the stairs happily, Scarlett threw on some shorts and a T-shirt, grabbed Buddy’s tennis ball and leash, and stepped outside into what she liked to call the “morning glory”: a period of time where the sun had not risen yet, but the sky was a light shade of cyan.

At the park, Scarlett threw the tennis ball again and again, laughing each time Buddy came back to her with the ball covered in spit. This time, she decided to chuck the ball as far as she could, which, apparently, was very far. The ball rolled into the street with Buddy leaping after it, and suddenly, a speeding car emerged. Immediately, she knew what was going to happen—she sprinted as hard as she could, calling out her dog’s name—but the only thing she received in return was a front-row seat to Buddy’s—

Scarlett woke up, drenched with sweat, bile rising in her throat. Struggling to keep it down, she got out of bed and stared at herself in the mirror.

“Buddy is gone. He is dead. Accept it. He’s in a better place now,” she told herself firmly. “And besides, it’s been five years already. Get over it.”

Well, she sighed, I might as well get dressed for school. She put on some clothes lifelessly, brushed her teeth, and grabbed a banana and her backpack. As usual on this type of morning, she drove extra slow to avoid running over anything.

At school, the usual happened: she finished her homework in class, listlessly spooned food into her mouth, and tried to hide in the back of the class to avoid raising her hand.

Finally, school ended; however, a new torture appeared. Her chatterbox friend Maria had forced Scarlett to come to the animal shelter—the same animal shelter where Buddy had been adopted— because she was an “animal expert” and could help Maria choose the “best” dog.

^ SHELLS BY ANNA KOKORICH, 7

At the shelter, she watched halfheartedly as Maria cooed to every single dog she saw. Deciding that she was wasting her time and could be doing much more productive things, Scarlett walked out the door and saw something she would never forget.

A panting German Shepherd stood in the parking lot helplessly, his leash tied to a metal pole and wrapped tightly around his neck. Judging by the way he limped while pacing and how his thin coat of fur was unruly and matted, Scarlett could tell that he had suffered many harsh injuries.

The first thing she felt was stress—what if, trying to save the animal, she got in trouble with the law? What if the dog bit her? As these frantic thoughts ran through her, something else chilled her soul. The dog, seeing Scarlett, had begun to bark. The mere sound of it brought back countless memories and brought a wave of nostalgia onto her. Buddy—the best dog in the world, with the most beautiful bark.

“Bear . . . it’s the crack of dawn . . . I can’t play fetch with you right now,” moaned Scarlett as she was licked by a wet, rough tongue.

As she opened her tired eyes, she saw her beautiful German Shepherd giving her his signature puppy eyes, reminding her of a certain golden retriever. “Fine,” she relented. “Wait by the door.”

After a content Bear trotted down the stairs happily, Scarlett threw on some shorts and a T-shirt, grabbed Bear’s tennis ball and leash that she had saved, and stepped outside into what she liked to call the “morning glory”: a period of time where the sun had not risen yet, but the sky was a light shade of cyan.

At the park, Scarlett threw the tennis ball again and again, laughing each time Buddy came back to her with the ball covered in spit. This time, she decided to chuck the ball as far as she could. Subsequently, the ball rolled into the street with Buddy leaping after it, and suddenly, a speeding car emerged. Immediately, she knew what was going to happen—she grew dizzy, rooted to the spot.

“No—no! Buddy!” she cried. This couldn’t be happening, she thought. I’ve already lost a dog. It can’t happen again. It just can’t.

Then, something happened. Whenever she told the story to her friends and family afterwards, nobody believed it. They all came with excuses and said that she must have been dreaming; after all, Scarlett was the only witness.

Bear stopped. He turned.

And, leaving the ball in the street, in the gutter for all he cared, he trotted back to her and looked up adoringly.

BY NICOLE MANEATIS, 9

< MIDNIGHT MOON

BY SAHANA ARNIKAR, 8