John Ohm
A Singer’s Voice
Isaac woke up to the sound of two people arguing outside. It must have been his neighbors complaining among one another. One voice sounded white and the other sounded black. Most days he was able to sleep through the bickering and fighting that occurred outside, but today the two voices erupted into yells that pierced through the open crack of Isaac’s window. Outside, the few peaceful trees swayed in the morning breeze. The sky was getting brighter and every so often the sound of a car would pass by as it headed for town. Isaac was lying in bed, looking up towards the ceiling the same way he would every night before falling asleep.
A few moments went by when he heard his mom tap on his bedroom door.
“Isaac? Wake up, baby. Where’s your older brother. Do you know?”
His mom was a bit neurotic in the mornings, most likely because she needed a cigarette. Isaac sat up and stretched his arms. “Ma, I don’t know. He probably slept over that kid’s house.”
“You mean Steven’s house?” she asked suspiciously.
“Yeah, I think so.” Isaac heard his mom walk off into the distance. She was going for her cigarettes in the kitchen. There was no doubt she seemed to be smoking more these days.
Isaac got up and dressed himself with a nice shirt and jeans. He stepped into his timberland boots and took an extra glance in the mirror, then dabbed his wrist with cheap

cologne. He grabbed a small rectangular box that sat on the nightstand before leaving his room.
His mom was standing in the kitchen by the stove, holding her cigarette with two fingers close to her mouth. Dad had already gone to work and Isaac could tell just by his mom’s expression alone--she looked less rigid when he was gone, less pale.
“I don’t like your brother hanging out with that Steven kid.” She spoke as he snatched a glass from the cupboard.
“I know,” he said, reaching for the refrigerator door. “I can see that clearly.” He opened the door and took a quick glance at the top shelf then shut it without taking anything. “No more orange juice, really?”
“I asked your father to get some yesterday… I guess he forgot.” She put out her cigarette in a puddle in the sink before throwing it away. “I’ll get the groceries today while you’re at school.”
“Mom,” Isaac said holding the empty glass in his hand. “Why do you pretend to love him?”
She was startled by his question. She leaned over and put both hands on the side of the kitchen counter. “I don’t pretend, baby. I just have some trouble with him sometimes.”
“Trouble? Like when he walks all over us as if we’re nothing? Or when he hits you after you stand up to him for something he knows he’s wrong about?”
She looked at her son with sad eyes. “It’s more complicated than you think, Isaac.
Love...it has two sides to it and sometimes it’s hard to explain.”

“Not true love,” Isaac said quickly and passionately. “True love doesn’t have two sides.”
Isaac had always been his mother’s child. He had her same hopeful eyes and he inherited her same innocent smile at an early age. When Isaac was little his mom would read to him at night as they lay together in bed. Those were the nights they sailed together to their own separate world, not bounded by the walls of the house or the authority within them. It was a place where nothing else existed to Isaac except her, the book in her hands, and the story. Isaac could remember falling asleep to her voice as she read adventure stories and love stories. There was always a gentle vibration that soothed him to sleep as she read. Isaac could remember always falling asleep from it before the end of the story came around, but even so, she would read them through to the end even after he had fallen asleep; especially when it was the love stories.
“And how would you know about true love, my dear?” Her eyes brightened again and she had a pleasant grin on her face.
Isaac glanced at the clock on the wall then looked back into his mother’s eyes.
“I’m going to be late for the bus.” He grabbed his book bag from the kitchen table and headed for the front door.
“Isaac?” His mom captured his attention before he walked out. “It may be hard to see that I love your father, I know. But I love you more than anything in this world.”
Isaac saw the yellow bus glide to a stop past the trees that lined the street. He felt a rush of relief and joy to see a gorgeous and familiar face in the back window. He had a smile now that came almost instantaneously whenever he saw her for the first time in a day.

Isaac ran to the bus through the small front lawn and hopped on the bus in three quick steps. He gave a nod to the bus driver who nodded back. Then he made his way down the narrow aisle towards his girlfriend who sat in the far back of the silent bus. She had been looking at him with bright, loving eyes.
Her name was Olivia Thompson and she was beautiful to say the least. She had black wavy hair and smooth brown skin. There wasn’t a day where she didn’t look stunning. She smiled as he sat down beside her. She smelled like spring flowers.
“You know,” Isaac said to her, “this is the best part of the day for me.”
“Oh yeah?” she spoke in her gentle tone. “Why is that?”
Isaac loved Olivia’s voice. It was genuine and soulful and it had a slight rasp to it like a singer’s voice.
“Because,” Isaac took a deep breath through his nostrils, “you always smell so damn good.” She giggled.
“I got you something, by the way.” He pulled out the small rectangular box that bulged in his pocket and handed it to her.
She took it and opened the lid. There was a golden bracelet that hid inside. She didn’t say anything at first. She just stared at it admiring its shine like it was a brand new saxophone her father had given her.
Olivia was, in fact, a very musically talented girl. She took after her father who played in a blues band on the weekends. Isaac loved to hear her play the saxophone and the piano whenever he could, and he admired her talent. Isaac had mentioned to her how she could also be a great singer if she tried.

Once, in a dream, he saw her sing. He remembered it clearly; looking into
Olivia’s mesmerized eyes which were fixed on the bracelet. It was a beautiful night in an open field where she stood on a small platform in the middle of a rocky road. The rocky road was long and wide and it cut through the field like a scar on an innocent face. That’s where she sang. In the darkness of the sky above them, the moon and the stars shined brighter than ever, giving the road and the stage where she stood a silver glow. It was like a natural phenomenon in which she was quite familiar with. Her hair was in a silky, smooth condition, reflecting the stars like a black mirror. Her red, red dress embraced the silver moonlight in a way, creating a brand new color to Isaac’s eyes, transcending magnificence and beauty or any concept of it he might have had. She was perfect in every way standing there elevated and vivid against the night sky, singing Imagine by
Lennon—Isaac’s favorite song for as long as he could remember. Her father was there as well, sitting behind her, graciously playing the piano to her words. Most vivid of all was how Olivia sang. How her voice was so brightly colored with her soul. How she opened herself to him and invited him under her wing into the furthest depths of her life, just by a measure of her breath and the truth in her voice. Oh how happy he was to be there, how safe he felt in that moment.
Every night, Isaac would stare into his ceiling before falling asleep, thinking about that place, hoping for that dream to visit him again while he slept, gently soothing him like one of his mother’s love stories when he was little.
“It’s beautiful, Isaac,” she said looking down at the bracelets intricate and expensive details. She took it out and put it on over her slender wrist. It was a perfect fit,

just as Isaac had imagined, and it gleamed against her brown skin. She wore it like an
Egyptian queen, and Isaac was happy to see her smile like one.
“I love it,” she told him, as they sat side by side in the back of the bus, staring into each other’s eyes. “Thank you so much.”
He smiled back, “You’re welcome, Olivia.”
The bus drove on, through the winding back roads of the town of Clayton. At one point you could see the town’s steel factory out the window in the distance. It stood high with five smoke stacks parallel to each other. Three of them were puffing out grey smoke clouds and the other two violently hissed out steam. Huge black dump trucks, filled with raw steal and rock, were parked outside in the pale shade. The black steel factory had been the backbone of the town for as long as anyone could remember. Men came from all parts of the town to work there. Isaac could just see all those hundreds of faces of men who worked there. All with darkened skin on their cheeks and foreheads from factory smoke and dust. All of them with worn down eyes that had tested the boundaries of long hours with no sunlight. All of them with grim expressions as they pulled machines levers and tossed steel rock from place to place. Grim expressions that could take hold of a man even as the day’s work was at an end and they headed home to their wives. Isaac knows this face too well. He saw it every day when his father walked in the front door with a slam. When Isaac’s shoulders tensed up to the sound of it as he looked up to see his father standing there, angry like mad animal.
The truth was there was no other real work to be done in Clayton. Those who didn’t work in the factory would strive desperately for a job somewhere else. There was

little that could be done to prevent such an inevitable interclass struggle. Where lower and middleclass families would fight one another for a paycheck. It was such a system that never allowed for social, human bonding. Men were torn apart not by greed or corruption, but by the obligation of providing for their families and not being able to do so. It was a dog eat dog world that eventually drove the people of this town to a place where companionship was replaced indefinitely with hate. People born in this town were born into a life where compassion was no longer valued.
“That’s where he is right now,” Isaac said, pointing towards the factory. His voice was dim and fearful.
“You mean your father.” Olivia saw his head nod up and down as he looked at the factory. He breathed tight rigid breaths and showed only half his face in the window.
She could tell what was going on in his head and wished she could help. She had no idea how much she already had done for him.
“Why don’t you tell him about us?” Olivia asked him.
He looked back at her with a serious face.
“No, you don’t understand, Olivia. He would kill me if he knew how we felt about each other. You think the everyday racist we find out here is bad? Well, that’s nothing compared to my Dad.”
“What would he do?” she asked daringly.
“Try to beat me down. Who knows? Kick me out of the house.”
“Well, Isaac. I would be waiting for you with open arms if ever he did.”
Isaac’s dad was severe. He took after his father who was among the worst and most ruthless of the white supremacists of his time. He was a well known man who

earned little admiration for his name. He was a police officer who became a criminal, abusing almost anyone who crossed his path the wrong way. Most times it was an innocent black kid walking home in the summer heat, face dripping with sweat, eyes tired and unknowing of what was about to happen. Other times, after a day of work that felt short and unfinished, it would be Isaac’s father, a child, who would take the beating under the roof of his own house. Isaac’s father was tough when it happened, but some wounds can go deeper than skin and flesh. Such scars will turn a child’s bright eyes permanently dark and weary.
In Clayton, racism was like a common disease that lived symbiotically with the hateful minds of the town, and it spread far, into the steel factory and the shopping centers, all the way to the high school cafeteria. It was a product of the hardships and struggles that everyone in the town faced. Such ignorance it was. Nowadays things were worse than ever. The economy was low and it was an election year in what many Clayton relatives coined the most important election of our time. Voting day had begun earlier that morning, before Isaac woke up, and it would be over by the end of the night.
Isaac and Olivia looked out the window. There were red and blue voter signs polluting people’s lawns and driveways. Some of them said, “ VOTE KEVEN TOLSEN,” in bright red with a picture of a white haired man wearing a cowboy hat. The others in bright blue paint said,
“ Vote Nelson,” and next to it was a picture of a proud black man .
He had a sturdy smile and strong brown eyes. He had been on Isaac’s mind ever since the campaign began and every time he saw his picture or heard his inspiring voice on the radio, he hoped to God Nelson would win. For everyone’s sake.

Olivia was staring out the window at the voter signs. She could see the houses as they passed, each one more politically active and out of control than the last. One house stood out differently from the rest. Its tiny yard was barely alive. It had a few grass patches that slowly disappeared as the ground reached the house, and it was a much smaller house that seemed to have trouble fitting on its small property. Its few windows were permanently fog stained, and the gutters on the side of the house were filled with compacted, leaf matter and dry dirt. On the face of the house on the wall, next to the front door, there was a large spill stain that bled down the side of the house. In front of it sat a white man in a metal chair. He wore leather boots that seemed cemented to the ground. In his arms was a rifle. It was clearly his only well kept possession for on the ground next to him was a rag, which he had apparently just finished using to wipe the gun clean. Olivia didn’t intend for this to happen next, but she caught eyes with the man for a brief moment as the bus glided by. He was just sitting there, looking out towards the road, when his deathly stare locked onto her like a hawk. Even with the half rotted lawn between them, and the spaced out trees lining the road, intermittently breaking their eye contact, Olivia could still feel his passionate hate towards her. His scowling face disappeared in the distance but the bitter feeling of it all remained.
“Isaac?” Olivia said, slowly turning towards her boyfriend. She had the same fearful eyes he did when he looked towards the factory. She took a trembled breath that was more like a shiver. It pierced Isaac spirit like a needle pierces a nerve—intensely alarming. “Please tell me we’re going to make it together. I need you to tell me things are goin’ to be okay for us, no matter what. Deep down I’m so scared.”

Isaac took her hands and held them. Looking into her eyes, he said to her, “Every day, I’ve pictured Nelson winning this election. I believe with all my soul that tonight he will win, and it will be the start of something new, something better. I believe it with all my heart Olivia.”
Olivia looked down at her bracelet and wrapped her hand around it, moving it further up on her arm. “I hope you are right, Isaac.”
She leaned into Isaac’s chest as to remind him put his arm around her. Isaac was not the best comforter during hard times. Olivia knew this. She knew that for most of their life it was he who needed the comforting. After many years of brutality and bitterness from his father, Isaac has learned to invite whatever comfort he could find into his life. Rarely, did Isaac find Olivia in need of any in return.
The school appeared in the distance and the few kids in the front of the bus began to lift their heads off the windows and collect their bags and other things. Isaac and
Olivia began to do the same. The bus stopped by the school curb with a hissing sound as the door stretched open. Just as he was about to stand up, Isaac noticed Roger, his older brother, pull in and park his red, two-door Honda in the school lot. It was dented on both sides and its paint was scratched and dirty. The hood was a junk-yard heap of rust. Isaac saw Steven stumble out of the passenger door and flick a burning cigarette into another car. They looked like they were up all night drinking.
Isaac and Olivia got off the bus and gave each other a loving glance before parting ways towards opposite sides of the building. They would not see each other until the end of school. They gave only a glance, for there were teachers and students walking

around them and they feared anything more than a glance would strike up confusion, and maybe anger.
Isaac made his way through the populated hallways and past the gymnasium. On the walls he could see the different track and football team pictures. Suddenly, Isaac slowed to a stop in the middle of the hallway. He turned towards the wall that was filled with framed pictures that were in no organized fashion. They were just hanging there, randomly placed like the medals and trophies which stood jumbled together in the nearby glass trophy case. It turned out that Isaac had his eye fixed on his 8 th
grade team picture for basketball. He thought for a moment, but couldn’t remember when exactly it was taken. However, he could remember, looking at the picture, where exactly he stood.
Looking at it now made him cringe. It showed a group of kids standing broken in half by skin color. The white kids on the team stood to the right and the black kids stood on the left. It was like seeing two halves of a helpless whole, where Isaac was just another addition to the white side. He quit the team that same year, after asking Olivia to be his girlfriend. It was about that time in his life when he started to see things a little more clearly.
“Isaac!” a stupidly loud voice echoed towards him.
At first he couldn’t make out who it was, but turning around, he saw his brother
Roger, heading straight towards him like a police officer with an angry intent. Roger smelled of cigarettes and his eyes looked bloodshot and he got right into Isaac’s face.
“What’s this I hear about you and that black girl? Are you two actually together!
Are you insane or just sick?”

“Her name is Olivia!” Isaac said with a fierce tone, standing strong, trying to match his brother’s height. “And I swear, if you don’t call her by her name again…”
Isaac’s courageous stare made him look anything but young, something Roger didn’t expect.
“So it’s true then.” Roger stepped back. “You’re nothing but a waste, I tell ya, a burden on this family. And you getting with that girl is proof of it. What’s your plan, huh? What are you gonna do when Dad finds out?”
The warning bell for home room sounded. People began to shuffle into their classes like sheep.
“He’s not going to find out,” Isaac said in his recognizable and timid voice that he was shamefully familiar with.
“You can’t run from him forever, Isaac. He’s going to find you out one way or another.”
“I suppose you will be the one to tell him, you rat.”
“Me!? Rat! You’re the real rat, running around behind our backs with that....girl. I ought to tell him.”
“WHY! Because you’re his little bitch who will do whatever he wants?”
Roger grabbed Isaac’s shirt by the collar, stretching it, just as his Dad would before throwing Isaac to the ground to kick him with his hard work boots. Roger never went that far with Isaac, but he would never help Isaac either when it happened with his father. He would always just sit on his ass and watch it happen from the couch.
“Listen, Isaac,” Roger said, clutching onto Isaac’s shirt. “You better break it off with that bitch or I will let Dad in on your sick secret.”

“No, you listen!” Isaac pulled away from Roger’s grasp. “Just because Dad would hate her doesn’t mean you have to!” Isaac looked into his older brother’s eyes. “Why can’t you just learn to think for yourself? God damn it, don’t you see!? Grandpa was a racist and now so is Dad. Why do you have to follow down that same rocky road, Roger?
It will only scar you like it has for him.”
Roger rejected Isaac’s words like they were poison. “You’re wrong! Me and
Dad, we’re just realistic, something you will never know to be.” Roger turned his head from Isaac and left.
Isaac was unable to let go of what happened with Roger the entire day. Most of all, he couldn’t let go of the idea of his father finding out about him and Olivia. He kept thinking, would Roger tell him? In Philosophy class, Isaac was finally able to forget about that question. Partly because he had exhausted himself with it for five straight hours and this was now the last class of the day, but also, the philosophy teacher, Mr.
Freeman, brought up the topic of the election, which grabbed the attention of Isaac’s mind.
Mr. Freeman was Isaac’s favorite teacher. He was tall and black. He had mostly black and gray hair that was short and naturally parted to the side. He had lines and creases on his face that seemed to represent the many roads he travelled over the course of his life. To Isaac, Mr. Freeman was more than an intelligent man—he was wise.
Isaac’s mind was too packed with thoughts; he couldn’t get any of his classwork done. So he decided to walk over to Mr. Freeman, who was sitting quietly at his desk. It was such an organized desk that Isaac’s clouded mind began to clear just at the sight of it.

“What’s on your mind, Isaac?” Isaac sat down in the seat facing his teacher.
“I can’t stop thinking about this election,” Isaac said to him desperately. “Do you think Nelson is going to win? Do you think things will finally change after he takes office?”
Mr. Freeman looked into Isaac’s young and hopeful eyes. Isaac could see he was looking strait into his own past; his childhood, just another kid who hoped so desperately for a better world. “Isaac,” he said in his calm voice, “I voted this morning for Nelson before taking the commuting bus to work. At first, while I was riding, all I could do was hope with all my heart that my vote would march alongside thousands of others to push
Nelson to victory. But the more I hoped, the more I exhausted myself with this hope and
I began to remember something I had learned a long time ago.” Mr. Freeman paused, looking deeply into Isaac’s eyes. “It’s dangerous to throw something as valuable as your heart into something like an election. One way or another it will be returned to you in pieces.” Mr. Freeman talked like he had said these same words before, if not to anyone else, then to himself. “A great politician like Joe Nelson, as inspiring a man he is, can only do so much for us. In the end it’s up to the people of this world to create a change.
So don’t go wasting your heart and soul on this dream, thinking that you have enough to spare in a world so full of hardships and tribulations. You must find something real, something special and close to you, and you must save your love for that, son.”
Isaac closed his eyes and pictured Olivia, smiling and dancing in her red dress, under that silver moonlight he had once dreamed about. He realized now how much he really loved her, how real it was.

Isaac opened his grateful eyes and stood up. It was as if the room were brighter and he felt like he stood taller than ever before. “Thank you,” He said to Mr. Freeman.
“That meant more to me than you know.”
—
Go and get her, son.
The period bell rang and Isaac felt a rush overcome him. He had to find her and share with her the magic he had discovered. He wanted to feel these feelings with her in a tangible way—he wanted to kiss her and hold her so her face would soak up the sun and her hair would blow in the wind. Outside where everyone could look at them with mangled faces like they just witnessed a natural catastrophe. It was like he felt freed from that grip of fear that has strained him for so long, clouding his world like thick fog.
It was as if the Sun broke through a mile of gray and Isaac could finally see what was ahead for him. Most lucid was the need for him to tell his father everything, beginning with Olivia. It wasn’t just because he felt it was necessary now, but it was because Olivia had asked him to. And Isaac wanted to do more than just love her—he wanted to fight for her.
Isaac got home, and before thinking anything else, he noticed his dad’s pick-up truck parked right next to Roger’s red car with the rusted hood. He acted calm at the sight of it, retaining his fearlessness like the residual effects of a lasting drug. In reality, Isaac knew that his father being home early meant something was wrong, but today Isaac didn’t allow that to faze him. He walked towards the door, convinced he was ready to open it. Inside, his mother’s voice controlled the walls of the house.

“You can’t do this, Bill!” Isaac heard his mother complain as he pushed open the door. “It’s not right,” she said. “You can’t do this!”
Isaac crept to the living room where the noise came from. There he saw his father pressing Rodger against a mirror that hung on the wall. Roger held tightly his father’s hands that pressed against his collarbone. It looked like he was being choked. In the mirror behind Rodger, Isaac saw his father’s snarling face split in half by a large crack.
Isaac could hardly recognize who it was.
“Do you speak the truth, boy?” his father said with an extra push against Rodger’s chest.
“Yes, Dad, I told you. Yes”
“Son of a dam bitch,” he said, turning to face Isaac’s Mom. Isaac slowly retreated to the kitchen where he saw a bottle of Whiskey half empty on the countertop. He could hear his father’s breathing through the hallway connecting the two rooms. Isaac felt his stomach gripping his chest as he listened with two hands on the countertop. His heart no longer beating strong with courage, instead it warned with apprehension, suffering from the biting reality of his father’s tone.
“This is all your fault, Martha.”
“Why can’t you just let this go? For once in your life.”
“Let this go?! She’s a nigger and this is my family! This will probably lose me my job!”
“You’re a stupid bastard, who can’t keep his job for his family because he drinks too much. You shouldn’t even be home now! But here you are, drinking your life away.”

Isaac didn’t think twice. He quickly walked to the living room. “HEY!” Isaac said before his father came down with a hard slap to the side of her face. “Don’t you touch her!”
“Isaac!” his mother said, quickly putting a hand over her mouth. Isaac’s father started walking towards him.
“You!” he shouted “You little fuck, come here.” Isaac stood tensely in the doorway as his father grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him into the side of the couch.
“Do you know what you’ve done!?” Isaac heard him say as he was struck in the side of the face with a punch that rang in his head. “You got me fired!” Another blow was thrown into Isaac’s left eye, causing him to swing around and fall to his knees. He faced his mother now who looked at him with sad, helpless eyes. They spoke to him in a way that was clearer than words, “please Isaac. Stay strong.”
Isaac felt his father’s rough, scratchy hands grab his already stretched collar and pull him to his feet. He didn’t expect to be thrown into Rodger whose arms embraced him rather lovingly.
“Get out of here, Isaac,” Roger said abruptly. “But do come back, Isaac, for
Mom’s sake.” Isaac nodded to his brother who pushed him in the direction of the front door.
“Where you think you goin’, boy?” his father said, as Rodger cut in front of his drunken stumble.

“Dad you’re drunk,” Roger said as Isaac walked out the front door holding his bruised face with a hand that trembled to the sound of his father yelling, “get back here,
Isaac!” Still Isaac thought to himself, Stay Strong.
Isaac’s head continued to ring as he stood outside Olivia’s house, upright with a blackened eye and a large swell on his cheek. Still Isaac held a strong gaze as he walked closer. It was beginning to get dark out and Isaac could see a few faint stars in the sky.
He walked into the blue door of the house and immediately felt a rush of warm air surround him like a blanket, cloaking him. In the comfort of the house, Isaac walked to the living room where he startled Olivia who sat next to her father watching the election.
“Isaac!,” she said noticing the discoloration around his eye and cheekbone. “What happened to you? Are you okay?”
“I’ll be fine,” Isaac said to them—Olivia’s father looking at him with concerned and even worried eyes. Worried, for he knew how Olivia felt about him, how much he meant to her. Olivia got up and put her arm around his waist. She nodded to her father who looked on approvingly. She led him to her room where she had a wet wash cloth and began to clean his bruises with cool water.
“I was going to tell him, Olivia. About us. But he had already found out from my brother.” Olivia listened attentively as she held the cool cloth against the bulge in his cheek. “He was waiting for me there, drunk and angry.” Isaac paused, “he was going to hit my Mom if I didn’t stop him.” Isaac continued to tell her what happened and how it happened. He tried to tell her everything she needed to hear.

“I’m so sorry, Isaac” Olivia’s eyes grabbing a hold to the reality of his words.
“What happens now? What are you going to do?”
Isaac lowered her hand from against his face and held it with both of his hands, like a loving husband would for his wife. “Olivia,” he said to her. “I found out today how much I love you. It hit me like a title wave that knocked out all doubts and concerns I had. It knocked out all fear. Olivia, I was fearless for a moment because of you, because of how I felt about you. It was then I realized.” Isaac leaned closer to her. “Nothing in this world can take away from us what we don’t let them have, no matter how hard they try. If there’s one thing I’m going to do, it’s never to lose you.”
Isaac embraced Olivia as she leaned in and kissed him. For a long second, they were eternal, stretching beyond the universe.
The election ended later that night, and Isaac and Olivia were standing outside by the front steps. It was dark now, and the few faint stars were now brightly scattered across the sky, giving the street nearby a small measure of light.
“I wish you didn’t have to go,” she said to him as he looked down the street where all light faded to darkness. Where the trees shaded the blackness of the road. “Promise me you are going to be okay.”
Isaac loved her voice. It was genuine and soulful and it had a slight rasp to it. She could be a singer if she wanted to.
“I love you, Olivia,” he said to her, “I promise.” Isaac turned away and walked down the road, nothing to guide him but the faint starlight that battled through the trees

above. At times, the road got so shaded and dark that Isaac had to walk with his hands out in front of him pacing through the air. It was scary sometimes, stepping blindly ahead, not knowing whether he would fall into a hole in the middle of the road, or lose himself altogether. But knowing that she would be there, and her beautiful song on his mind, he believed some things can be overcome.

A New Neighbor
Phil Barbieri
Times are tough for any kid who loses his father at the age of seventeen. About one year ago, Derrick and his father went on a fishing trip for the weekend, one of those father son things. They had an awesome time, talked guy talk, and drank Stewarts Root
Beer down by the riverside. All things have to come to an end sometime, but Derrick never thought anything could go this bad. Driving through the valleys of the mountain, a drunken local side swiped Derrick and his father knocking them over the guardrail and down a cliff. Derrick made it, his father never did. Derrick blames himself, even up until this day. From now on it will just be Derrick and his mother Marie. They were fine together, a very strong and compatible duo.
Derrick was entering his senior year of high school, fatherless, but strong at the same time with the support of his mother. Derrick was quite the athlete, but always learned every technique from his genius father; he knew everything when it came to sports. Derrick’s senior football career would be dedicated to his father; Derrick liked to use that as his motivation. That Friday humid night under the lights Derrick would unleash the Demon. “Gentleman off the field, Demon on,” his father would always say.
Derrick played the game of his life, he made every single play; he was simply a menace.
Until one play, a player on the opposing team turned to Derrick and said, “You would be a scrub without your daddy.” Derrick transformed into a complete psycho, throwing punches, hitting the kid with his helmet, and stomping the flesh of his face with his Nike
Speed spikes. Parents, police, and coaches all rushed the field to break up the ruckus.

Derrick was arrested on the spot; the kid he attacked was rushed to the local county hospital, suffering severe blows to the head. The kid would never be able to play high school sports again, and neither would Derrick. Derrick was sentenced to nine months house arrest without any early release. His mom was disgraced, and his father would be too. Any hope of Derrick getting his full scholarship to Texas Tech was washed away after this vicious event. Derrick looked back on the event and was completely ashamed by his actions, and so were his teammates. Derrick’s first week of house arrest wasn’t easy; rumor had it people started to go crazy after the first week. Derrick never did; he kicked back, having nothing better to do than eat and play video games. He thought this was the life, but every day at about three o’clock he would watch all of his friends get out of school and have all the freedom they wished. Derrick missed this more than anything; after losing his father, all of Derrick’s friends played a huge role in supporting him.
Week two began home schooling. Derrick hated the one on one teaching methods because he knew he would not be able to goof off. A regular day of school for Derrick would consist of sleeping and spitballs. He could do neither at home. Ms. Maze, the teacher, was very understanding about Derrick’s situation. Ms. Maze had lost her father at a very young age also, so the two got along very well. Ms. Maze would help Derrick out with his emotion and intelligence at the same time; she would also bring Derrick breakfast every morning before they started teaching, a bacon egg and cheese.
In the meantime, Derrick and his mother’s relationship started to simmer off a little. Derrick had little time to talk to her because she was working day and night shifts to support the both of them. Derrick thought nothing of it at fist but started to feel like he

was losing his mother just like he had his father. Derrick never wanted anything to happen like this; his mother was all he had left.
Derrick needed someone to take his mind off all of the commotion going on in his life, so he called up his buddy Ronnie. Ronnie had been Derrick’s friend since the third grade; he was a short Chinese kid with a mullet. Ronnie wasn’t your regular outdoor kid like Derrick used to be. Ronnie showed Derrick some fun that he knew, which consisted of throwing water balloons at the people waiting for the SEPTA bus to come through town, or prank calling the angry drunk across the street telling him to get his chair off their lawn. Stupid fun is what kept Derrick going, including the Twinkie tower they decided to make one day.
At this point Derrick’s mom put her foot down and sucked the fun out of everything. Derrick was no longer allowed to play video games or watch the TV. When home schooling was not in session for Derrick, he was left with no activity to keep him busy, but his friend Ronnie did give him an interesting idea. There was a new neighbor who had moved right next door to Derrick, on the south side of his house. It was a very nice house, stone all the way around, with a nice separate garage for his old school cherry red SS Chevelle. There had been rumors around the neighborhood that the person living in the house had caused problems in the last locations he had been living at. Derrick and
Ronnie’s idea was to keep tabs on this guy, not stalk him, just spy on him to see what he was all about. He was a strikingly tall man at least six foot four, with bleached white hair, looking about forty years of age. Looking at his everyday action you would think this man meant no harm. He took completely good care of his house, and the landscape looked like one of a golf course. This was what made him creepy and abnormal

compared to everyone else in the town. Not one person could put a finger on this man; his actions, and his image just wasn’t normal and correct.
The following day Derrick trotted down the cobblestone steps and paced to grab the mail; before he reached the mailbox he heard a loud piercing sound. He looked down to his ankle and saw the red light flashing; this meant he has twenty seconds to get back into a 100 feet radius of his house. This was what Derrick had to deal with every day, if he was out of his zone for more than the allotted time, his house arrest would be substituted with jail time. Derrick turned his back to the mailbox; he does not feel the risk was worth it, but before he reached the mahogany front door, he heard a strong baritone voice.
“Hey, how you doing, kid?”
Derrick turned around and was blinded by the mountain of a man.
“I’m Derrick. Welcome to the neighborhood,” Derrick mumbled.
“I’m Brian O’Shea. I see you have that device on your ankle; if you ever need any help I’m always available.”
Derrick didn’t know if this so called Brian was putting on an act just to suck him in. Derrick knew he would never ask such a stranger for any kind of help, let alone come on his property. It would take one blow for this huge man to take out Derrick, but Derrick didn’t want to make any premature judgments on the man’s personality or past life. They said being on house arrest would mess with your head, but Derrick thought he was really onto something.
As Derrick gathered himself and got back into his house, he dashed up the stairs and dove right back into his investigation. Derrick started researching Brian O’Shea’s

criminal dockets to see what the man had been accused of. O’Shea had nothing but a couple simple assault and harassment charges. Derrick also found out that O’Shea never did any time in any state penitentiaries or discipline centers. The man seemed dirt from the first time Derrick laid eyes on him. When the first night rolled in, this is when the actions would start to escalate. Derrick would start to get suspicious, and many unknown things would become revealed.
A humid September night rolled in and Derrick was awakened by the barreling sounds of O’Shea’s Chevy Chevelle pulling up the stone driveway. Derrick rushed over to the window and saw O’Shea and a short blonde bombshell hop out of the vehicle. This was out of the ordinary because O’Shea never associated with anybody but himself.
Derrick rushed to his camcorder and set in directly in the window so see what the two were up to. The couple rushed into the house and proceeded to sit down and settle over a bottle of wine; Derrick was unable to stay awake at such a late hour, so he proceeded to nod off until he fell into a deep sleep. The camera was still on just in case anything looked suspicious while Derrick was asleep.
The next morning Derrick was slow to get up, but eager to watch the recorded film to see how O’Shea concluded the night. From the looks of the footage, he never did.
There was no sign of the girl leaving the house at any point in the night. She could have slept over, but it was close to one o’clock in the afternoon, and still no signs of the blonde bombshell. Derrick put no thought into it and waited for the next night to come closer.
Around six o’clock the next night, Derrick heard the strong baritone of O’Shea’s car again. Except this time a tall brunette woman hopped out of the car, high heels, cocktail dress, and dark skin, the whole nine yards. This time Derrick forced himself not to fall

asleep, gulping down Red Bull and Oreos. Everything was going fine, little commotion in the house, and nothing going on out of the ordinary. Once again, morning crept in and there was no sign of the brunette. Are these women going out the back door or something? There had been no sign of either of these women leaving the house at anytime.
Suddenly, Derrick heard some dialogue going on downstairs, maybe one of
Derrick’s mom’s close friends or client. Derrick slowly creped down his wooden staircase without making any sound to see if he could hear what was going on.
“We should get dinner sometime, I cook a mean steak,” the stranger said.
“It would be my pleasure, I would love to,” Derrick’s mom responded.
It had been a while since Derrick’s mom last dated. Derrick was eager to find out who this average Joe was; with no more stealth action, Derrick struts down the stairs, turns the corner, and is greeted by nobody else than O’Shea. Derrick was now wide eyed, and preceded to give O’Shea nothing but some sarcastic attitude.
“You shouldn’t be around here, I see you running around every night with a different women,” Derrick shouted with a pissed off attitude.
Derrick runs upstairs and locks himself in his room for the remainder of the day.
The night closed in and Derrick’s mother comes into the room. Her hopes are high to make O’Shea feel accepted.
“Derrick, honey, sometimes you have to move on and take opportunity that is given to you,” his mother murmured.
“I don’t want to talk about it, you can do what you want, but you’re going to regret your decision,” Derrick responded. Derrick was afraid to tell his mother that

O’Shea wasn’t the man for her. She had been looking for a soul partner ever since her last husband.
Later that night Derrick calls Ronnie for a little support. Derrick didn’t want his mother not to come out of the house like the two other young ladies. Derrick and Ronnie installed more cameras from different angle of the house, so every exit was covered.
Nighttime closes in and Derrick’s mom is starting to perm herself for her romantic dinner with O’Shea.
“I’ll be home no later than 10:00, I love you,” Derrick’s mother says.
Derrick sits his room with Ronnie and tries to brush off the situation. Hours are flying by, and so is the time that his mother was supposed to be home. Derrick is worried, looks over at the house and sees not one light on. He picks up his black Nextel and calls his mother, the call goes right through to the message machine. Derrick starts to panic and immediately runs over to O’Shea’s estate which appeared pitch black to say the least.
Derrick then looks down at his house arrest bracelet which starts beeping because he is too far off his own premises. He knows the cops will come soon, so he utilizes his time as best as possible. Derrick slams through the front door and he can’t see much, only a long dark hallway.
Panting profusely, Derrick tries to listen for any movement going on in the house.
“Derrick, run!” his mother shouts.
Derrick notices the voices were coming from the basement so he dashed downstairs and found his mother tied up, bleeding down the face, and dripping sweat.
Derrick notices a rank smell in the basement; he then sees the two women’s bodies that had been in the house prior to his mother. Derrick unties his mother and begins his

navigation out of the house before O’Shea finds them. Derrick can hear the sirens of the police officers outside in the driveway. He thinks he is safe, until O’Shea latches onto his shirt and drags him back down the old basement steps. Derrick’s mother jumps on
O’Shea’s back and scratches the flesh off of his forehead. Derrick tries to stalemate
O’Shea until the police officers are able to take him into custody. Derrick grabs a sharp piece of glass off the gravel basement floor and slashes O’Shea across his face, which releases his grip. Derrick grabbed his mother as they both limped out the front door and took cover behind a few local police officers. Seconds later O’Shea comes out with an armed weapon. The police officers warn O’Shea to drop the weapon, but he refuses.
O’Shea then point the gun at the officers, but not in time before he was pierced in the shoulder by a Biretta shell. Derrick walked his mother back to the house as she cries into his shoulder. Something happened that night that had never happened before. Derrick was taken off house arrest for busting a serial killer that has been on the loose for seven years,
Brian Mark O’Shea from the hometown of Houston, Texas. Three days later O’Shea was sentenced to life in jail, and Derrick and his mother went back to their everyday lives.
Derrick’s mother then realized the truth love of her life had passed away, but she still has her precious son Derrick and that is all she needs.

Miranda Cavaliere
Robin
I hadn’t moved for days. After receiving the phone call from Robin’s mother I had promptly crawled into bed and stayed there ever since. It’s been three days and I’m just starting to contemplate lying there until I, too, stop breathing. At least then Robin and
I would still have something in common. I close my eyes and begin drifting off into another dreamless slumber.
Three hours later, I wake up and roll over to look at the time displayed in bright red lights on my alarm clock: 3:22 PM. Had this been a normal day, I would have just climbed off the school bus now. In another few minutes, I would have just entered the house through the back door, picked up the phone, and called Robin, loading her up with tons of the minute details and problems that worried me constantly, trivial things that had no substance in the scheme of things, in life and death. But she would listen to all of these and reassure me that everything was okay, that she was always there for me. We threw around the word ‘always’ like it meant something.
The next time I closed my eyes, I was greeted with a playback of the night it all happened.
I had just arrived home from a six hour shift at Jiminy Sprinkles, an ice cream parlor that was all too fond of making its employees dress up in candy-colored stripes as they scooped cones for demanding children. I was getting ready to call Robin to see if she

wanted to grab some dinner with me when the phone rang. Seeing her last name come up on the caller ID, I picked it up and enthusiastically said, “What up, lady?”
Instead of Robin’s typically carefree-sounding voice, on the other end was a gentler one, one that sounded stricken with sadness: her mother’s. In place of the excited chatter that was usually exchanged, I was told that Robin had been struck by a car while taking a walk a mere two hours before. The driver had fled immediately. I hung up the phone.
Thus far, my mother is being pretty good with giving me my own space over the past few days, but really I’d just like her to burst into my room, pull me out of bed and hug me. That didn’t happen, though. Instead, I was mostly undisturbed, with the exception of my stepfather. He had left me alone that first day, probably because my mother had convinced him that I need space, but after that it had only gotten worse.
About twice a day, he would burst into my bedroom and demand that I perform some chore or another and chastise me for not completing the ones I was assigned the day before.
He didn’t really care that Robin was gone. To be fair, he never really met her, as I was careful not to have people at the house when he was home. He and my mother had only married a year before, and while they were dating, this task had been easier. Now, however, he was everywhere all the time, constantly telling me how worthless I am. And that’s okay, because I always had someone to run to. But now…

Today he yells about doing the laundry. Apparently, it’s been piling up. I utter a quiet comment about how I’ll get around to it, when he finally says something to set me off: “I don’t care that your friend’s not around. You still have responsibilities.”
That’s when I lose it.
I shove him aside and run past him, towards the back of the house. I burst out of the back door, fuming, and run into the woods that line our backyard. The sky is painted with deep shades of red and orange as the sun begins to set. It’s later in the day than I had thought, but I still run, fearing that he will be close behind me, ordering me back into the house. I glance behind me to gauge our distance, to see if I can outrun him, when I notice that he’s not there. Looking back at the shell of my home, I see he’s not standing in the doorway, calling my name as I thought he might be. He’s not even at a window. I slow my pace but do not stop.
I’ve walked on this path countless times, most of them while being accompanied by Robin Ann Gerald, the girl who, up until a week ago, was my best friend. We were the kind of best friends that every girl dreams of having; we were basically the same person living in two separate bodies. Our meeting each other was an act of fate: on the first day of fourth grade, Ms. Johnson, a young teacher fresh out of college, placed us next to each other on her seating chart, hoping that as the two new kids we would find something to bond over. This was possibly the best call Ms. Johnson had ever made, considering that during that year, which just so happened to be her second year teaching in a public school, virtually every lesson plan she made was ruined by some disruption or another…which usually came from where we were seated. Little did we know that those

days spent annoying Ms. Johnson would pave the way toward the kind of friendship where you swear you’re actually related to the other person. There was no inkling that we would stay this way for eight short years, and I really do believe that had things turned out differently, it would have lasted for the rest of our lives.
I jogged now over the path that spread out in front of me, twisting through old oak trees and between thorned bushes, thinking of the first time we met. I ran by the enormous poplar where, after graduating from eighth grade, we had carved our names with a pocketknife in elongated letters, which could still be seen from a distance. I passed the creek where we had called our swimming club nearly every day during the hot and humid summers, where I had taught Robin to do a backstroke. I continued on the path a little while longer, only stopping upon reaching the place that most represented our childhood: a decrepit playground. I stood for a minute where the path ended and the wood chipped ground began, surveying the area. We hadn’t been there together since middle school, and I was pleased to see that absolutely nothing had changed in those four years. Softly, I made my way over to the rusty metal swing set and sat down on the one on the right, the one I had always used. This time, however, there was nobody to use the left.
I don’t know exactly how long I’ve been sitting here, reminiscing on the years
I’ve spent with Robin, the ones I won’t ever be able to get back. I think of the loneliness of the immediate future, the one where I don’t have a best friend. I also think of my family, and of the house that I’ll have to return to soon, the one that feels empty and lifeless despite having been inhabited for the last nine years.

I look around me, at this place that represents what my life used to be so well: the equipment of the playground is worn down from years of good use by happy children, but it has all begun to rust and fall apart. It hasn’t been taken care of for a while, that much is evident, and noticing that makes staying there seem unbearable. I stand up and walk back towards where I came from, looking back one last time. I say goodbye to this place and hope never to return.
I hesitate when I’m almost at the weather-beaten back door of my house. Peering into the window, I can see my mother and stepfather sitting together on the loveseat in the living room, watching TV. Without realizing it I’m suddenly thinking about how peaceful they look, my stepfather’s arm draped across my mother’s shoulders. They look like a family, sitting there without me. I take this moment to reconsider what my options are: sure, I could walk back inside and have to deal with both my loss and my family…but it’s not necessary. I could just as easily walk a little farther until I’ve crossed my street, then just keep going indefinitely. The mere idea of distancing myself from this house excites me, probably more than it should. And, I think to myself, why stop there?
Why not leave the town in which everyone knows exactly why and how much you’re suffering? Just a few blocks from where I’m standing is a bus station, one where I can very easily take to a city where I can be anonymous. I notice that my breathing has become heavy; my heart has begun racing. I feel the urgency of making a decision right here , right now . I remain standing there for a moment, thinking about how, had Robin still been around, she would know exactly what to do. She would advise me to do the right thing, whatever that means, and just having her say those words of support would

have me feeling confident. Of course, she can’t do that anymore, and that thought is probably the most crippling to me. I turn away from the door now; I’ve decided that what’s best is for me to deal with this on my own. But then I see it- a crow sits perched on my fence, head cocked as if it is looking straight at me, and I can’t help but be filled with a familiar feeling. Sure, it isn’t a Robin, but it’s close, and there’s something that seems strangely familiar about it. As I look at this bird, I begin to feel like this won’t be as awful as I think- of course, I will continue to feel heartache, but it can only really get better at this point. The crow hops to the next fence post, its black feathers shining in the early evening sunlight, and promptly picks up the gaze that it has been holding with me.
I turn around again, back towards the door, and stop. Glancing behind me, I see the bird is still there, and I’m positive that it is still looking at me, assuring me that it is the right decision. I extend my arm towards the door and slowly turn the old knob; the door gives in to my weight and swings open. I look back one last time, but the bird is gone. I step into the house and close the door behind me. I think I’ll be okay.

Jasmine Chun
A Cup of Coffee
"Wake up, sweetie. Mommy wants to see you eat breakfast before leaving for work."
In a cold apartment with no heat for the winter and no air for the summer, I lived within the fragile walls of the building, creaky floors, and leaky sink. I defined myself as independent, responsible, and a hard worker. Common for any woman who bears children, my son was everything to me. He’s the only thing that is worth living for. At age eighteen, I left home due to my mother’s second marriage to an abusive drunk. I never knew what she, or anyone in else, could possibly see in him.
All he ever did was drink in front of the T.V. and sleep; on some occasions, he’d just beat on my mother and go to extremities to feel superior. Yet, through all the beatings and verbal abuse, she still stuck with him. That right there, led to our estranged mother-daughter relationship. I resented her, and I despised that son of a bitch. With my packed bags and the money I saved up, I was off to the city life of New York. I looked forward to living with my boyfriend Mike, and starting a family since he made good money after taking over his father’s shop; everything seemed to look like a fresh start. Pity that my optimism led to complete disappointment. Within two months, he found a petite redhead who worked near his shop and left me pregnant with our son. Let’s just say that I initiated the eventual confrontation by throwing the lipstick that she had left in my apartment. That dumb ass sure as hell didn’t go home looking too pretty.
Heart-broken, broke, and pregnant are possibly the hardest challenges a woman can endure. Future plans of ever getting married, saving up to buy that typical dream home with a white picket fence, having a big family—it all just seemed to have gone up in flames. That

day Mike came back home after witnessing the public catfight between that redheaded home wrecker and me. He packed his things to officially move in with her. I still remember those exact words he said to me.
“Take care of my son. Don’t come lookin’ for me because I’m not coming back.”
I chuckled when he told me not to come looking for him. I still ask myself what the hell I saw in him, or what any one sees in him for that matter. He left one grand on the kitchen counter on his way out, and that was the end of it. I was depressed for a while, debating on keeping this baby, moving back home, finding Mike, but none of these ideas seemed to have a decent future. Just keeping my head up and hoping for the best was all I could possibly do, and to do that, I needed a job.
Now 24, with five-year old Aiden, I don’t complain or look back at anything. Yeah, I may live in an old beat up apartment, I may have pots catching the raindrops falling through the ceiling, but I’m doing pretty good, supporting my young son and paying rent every month.
It had been about five years since I’ve seen Mike or my mother.
"Aiden, I'm going to work, okay? Mrs. Jones is going to take care of you while I'm gone. Play with Joey, okay, babe. I’ll be home soon. And for you Mrs. Jones, I’ll be bringing you a hot meal." I winked. She loves the dinner menu at the diner, therefore, I brought her one every time she takes care of my boy.
"Bye, Mommy." Aiden hugged and kissed me on the right side of my cheek.
These goodbyes never got old. Mrs. Jones was a wonderful woman. She’s one of those people who welcomes you in the neighborhood, or should I say apartment building, and is the only person generous enough to take care of kids for free. I had no trouble leaving my son with her and her 5-year old son Joey.

My pink and black uniform was very cliché. With my white Reeboks and raggedy apron, my job here was to refill napkin boxes, pour condiments and spices in their containers, clean the tables, and take people’s orders everyday at the diner. I once dreamt of managing a restaurant of my own, but future plans always seem to change when plotted young. Every day after work, I’d smell like breakfast food and coffee. On the days when I’d get called in to bartend at Hogan’s, I’d add a scent of cigarettes and alcohol. I always brought boxed leftovers and at least sixty dollars by the time I get home.
Just as I was about to step on my “Home Sweet Home” doormat, I had found a letter on the doorstep. It was yellow and seemed almost anonymous until I found out that it had the name of the apartment owner at the top of the lines. After picking up Aiden from Mrs. Jones,
I was holding him as I jimmied the keys to the potentially “no-longer mine” apartment.
How does time go by so fast? I could have sworn I paid the rent last week. I only had $83.61 in my account, not even close to six hundred fifty. With my nonexistent relationship with my mother, I couldn’t ask her, but she was the only person I had left. I didn’t have anyone else to turn to... I needed money.
As I dialed my mom’s number, I admit I had trouble remembering it. It has been five years since I had last talked to her or seen her face (that very last look of disgust I gave her before I slammed the front door.) Those times when she tried to call, I would never pick up, and her wanting to meet her new grandchild never happened due to my lack of interest. I knew it was selfish and ignorant to only come to her in a time of need, but I couldn’t help but think that she owed me. The reason why I left, the reason why I never answered her calls, the partial reason why I grew thick skin, definitely had something to do with my mother’s doing.
“Hello?” The familiar voice made my heart beat a little faster.
“Hey.. it’s me, Tara.” I spoke nervously. The sound of my voice made her

automatically cry. It’s been an awful while to get in contact with me, probably because I don’t answer when I see her caller I.D. and the fact that it was never me doing the calling.
“Tara.. where have you been? I’ve called you a month straight, I left you voice mails,
I’ve tried looking for you, and…” I could sense her trembling voice was preventing her from finishing the sentence. “It’s been five years.” She lost the battle against her tears.
I wasn’t sorry. I was more annoyed and wanting to get straight to the point. I didn’t want to listen to her whimpering and whining. She didn’t even shed a tear when I packed up to leave. Therefore, I quickly changed the subject.
“Mom, I need money... rent’s due and I doubt that my two jobs of waitressing and bartending are going to save up to pay it by the end of this week,” I interrupted coldly.
It was an easy signal that my mother had quickly caught on to. Angry and annoyed, my mom knew why I called her in the first place.
“You call only for help? Is that what this is all about? How could you be so selfish and treat me like I’m some sort of bank machine. You banish me out of your life, and then suddenly pop up just so I could pay for your stupid rent? How ignorant of a daughter you are.”
“Me, SELFISH?” I was getting heated.
“You chose that worthless pig over me. I bet that he’s watching T.V. on that leather couch watching re-runs of Wheel of Fortune, and you’re going to talk to me like this
?” I scoffed.
“I left because your husband would hit me and you’d do nothing as you witnessed it.
I was like a human punching bag to him, and you’re going to ask me why I’m so ignorant towards you? You didn’t do anything even when I begged you to leave him. Those tears you cried meant nothing because you still pathetically stuck by him. But hey, if you’re going to

accuse me of being selfish, then I guess that makes two of us… but the only difference between you and I is that you’re an insult to parenting.”
Tears uncontrollably poured down both our cheeks. Emotion was so strong that it made it hard to breathe. I couldn’t keep my composure standing up. So I slowly slid onto the floor, crying until my eyes and face became puffy and red. So much pain and heartbreak unraveled after five years without contact. Obviously, anger and sorrow were at the depths of this conversation.
“I’ll send you money, Tara, but only if you call me every week to see how you’re doing. I love you and miss you so much… and I’m sorry. I know sorry is nothing but a word compared to your emotional scars, but really, I am.” I could tell that there was heartache and desperation in her voice.
“I will, Mom… and I’m sorry about what I said… I love you too.” Surprisingly, I didn’t think that I felt vulnerable in her presence. No longer was I stubborn or holding a grudge towards her. Instead, a new light was shed for our renewed relationship.
*
The counters and polished trays sparkled, along with the aroma of fresh cooked food, and running coffee. If I were a food critic, I’d rate this diner as one of the top in New York
City. But of course, diners are much different than restaurants, especially ones in this city.
But I’d say the diners aren’t so far behind. Ever since I started working here, this job had been stable. There were men here and there that’d try to get my attention, there were the regular customers, the snobby ones, and the good old newcomers, but I always tended to be to myself and just do my job. The only thing that came out of my mouth was “can I take your order?” or “Would you like some coffee?” along with some exceptions.
The entrance door jingled as a very attractive man headed towards the stool seats. His

hands were masculine, yet soft and youthful. He looked like he was in his early thirties or older twenties when I took a quick glance. I was only serving one table, meaning it was extra slow—perhaps because it was Wednesday. As I served the table full of three ladies each their breakfast with coffee, I overheard one of the women with auburn reddish hair drooling over that same man who came through the door. He was oblivious to their adulterous stares and flirty gestures. I never cared much about men after Aiden’s father; I thought they were a waste of time and only has one purpose in life, and that is to conceive children and leave them be.
“May I take your order, sir?” I searched to meet his eyes.
“Why, yes, I would like to have a cup of coffee, Miss…Tara.” He smiled.
No one could deny his charm; he was truly a man to drool about. His brown hair, green-colored eyes, freshly shaven stubble-- he was quite the man. As I turned my back for ten seconds, I grabbed a cup and took the pot full of coffee out of the machine; I could feel his eyes watching every move I made. It gave me chills. The hot beverage spilled a few drops away from the targeted object. Ugh, how embarrassing.
“Oops, a little spill. Let me get that for you.” He grabbed a few napkins from the newly refilled napkin box and cleaned the mess I made with one swipe. He smiled, this time showing teeth.
I had the hardest time just saying the word “thanks.” Embarrassing enough, I walked away faster than my normal pace and went off to the bathroom. When I came back, to my disappointment, he was still there. I could see him sipping up the hot coffee and eyeing me whenever he thought I wouldn’t notice from the corner of his eye. (I was shy and stalling to go anywhere near him) ten minutes seemed like ten hours until he finally left. I felt wetness on my forehead due to humility and discomfort.

From then on, he became an everyday customer for a month. From that period of time,
I knew four things about him, one, he owned his own company, two, he was single, three, he wanted to take me out on a date, and four, his name was Geoff.
“I would like to take you out sometime... if you’d only say yes.” He was shy and very cute in his proposal.
I was speechless. I’d always brushed off every man that asked me out for a date by laughing sarcastically, but with Geoff, I didn’t want to say no.
“Ummm… well, I—” I couldn’t stop stuttering over my words.
Assuming he knew what my hesitation meant, Geoff couldn’t help but try and save himself from the rejection.
“You know-- it’s okay to say no... I understand.”
“No, no, no; it’s not that... I just work every night, and I can’t leave my son at home all by himself... he’s only five.”
It wasn’t just work and Aiden; it was also because I was scared. He was so handsome, high class, desirable. I questioned why a rich man like him would go for a low class waitress like me.
*
I missed the bus after my shift. It wasn’t unusual for me to walk home. The apartment was basically just six blocks away. It was one of those summer nights, with cool, warm air and the mixture of dark purple skies that made views like these dreamy. Tap, tap, tap! The rhythm of the footsteps behind me seemed to be closing in on me. It wasn’t the sound of ordinary people walking; it sounded more like someone was after me. Scared, I tried my best not to turn around. I told myself that if it really was a stranger trying to assault me or even rape me, I needed to start darting in five, four, three, two---

“My, oh my, do you walk fast.”
I recognized that voice. My heart dropped with relief because I knew who it was. The threat of being victimized tonight was no longer in my mind. Thank God. It was Geoff.
“Sorry, I-- thought someone was following me. I started to panic.”
He smiled. He seemed more casual than when I served him inside the diner. Maybe it had something to do with the lighting.
“Tomorrow is Sunday, correct? Work is off your schedule, and your son probably desires to do something adventurous. Wouldn’t it be a nice idea to go to the zoo and grab some ice cream?” His manipulation was pretty tempting.
“I see you don’t take no for an answer,” I answered teasingly. “Tomorrow at one sound good?”
I couldn’t sleep because I kept thinking about what tomorrow was going to be like, and the fact that I couldn’t help thinking about what we were going to talk about.
*
“Have you ever been to the zoo, Aiden? They have wild creatures that you don’t see in the streets of New York City. There are lions, bears, alligators, monkeys, mostly everything you see on the Discovery Channel,” Geoff chuckled as he told Aiden in the car ride.
Surprised with how well they were getting along, I was happy to witness the bond between my son and “customer.” I could tell that Aiden really liked Geoff, almost in a fatherson way. During that long day of relaxing and having fun, the hot dogs and ice cream satisfied our stomachs. The ride back home in Geoff’s BMW 2-door ended the perfect night.
“Good night, Aiden!” Geoff yelled as Aiden ran inside to push the elevator button.
“Good night, Tara.” He gave me a warm kiss on my left cheek. I was on cloud nine, to say

the least.
As I ended up on my floor completely dazed, I noticed that my door was slightly open. The lock on my door was broken. Suspicious, yet frightened, I opened the door and found Mike sitting on the couch drinking a beer. He reminded me of my mom’s husband.
“Hey, sweetie, long time, no see,” he smirked with his legs laid out on the table. He had grown to be a fat, dirty, drunk.
“What are you doing here? You can’t just barge into my house like this and talk to me as if I’m still yours. It’s been five years. Go back to what’s-her-name.”
He got up and stood up walking, almost dragging, himself towards me. It was obvious that he turned into a low-life and had no one to attend his needs anymore. In one swift motion, he took me by the hair, yelling, asking me who I thought I was talking to him like that. He never touched me this way, and by this unexpected action, I was terrified. I yelled at Aiden to get out, all the while screaming and crying for him to get off of me. I kicked the walls so he would injure himself on hard objects, and I even scratched his face to make him let go of me. Nothing seemed to restrain him. But within a few seconds, I saw the look on Aiden’s face outside in the hall.
Terror . Suddenly after minutes of struggling, I felt a sudden relief for my neck and hair. In those few seconds, Mike was knocked out cold and bleeding from the mouth. His face was cherry red due to alcohol consumption and the fist blow from Geoff. I searched for his protection and fell into his arms with such need. He was so strong, yet had a side where he held me with such ease and warmth. He saved me.
The cops came and took him away just minutes after the call from the worried neighbors; I didn’t know that man anymore.
*
“Are you all right?” Geoff asked as he caressed my face while holding me tightly. “I

just came to hand you your jacket that you left in the car... and then I heard you screaming frantically outside your hallway as Aiden here cried for help...”
At this moment, I knew that I was in love. I was so comfortable in his warm embrace, those caring hypnotic eyes; he was truly a good man. Him being concerned about my protection had made me feel so safe-- so loved . Geoff stayed the night, holding me throughout the night as the redness on my neck went away, along with the small wounds that covered my arms. When I woke up from my deep sleep, I found a note that he left.
Flight to North Carolina for a business meeting
Be back Thursday or maybe sooner
Please, please, lock all your doors and stay away from that crazy man
Love, Geoff
P.S. Has anyone every told you that you’re beautiful when you’re sleeping?
Did he say “ love?” Today was only Monday. I was pretty upset because I didn’t have a chance to kiss him goodbye or thank him for last night. Sore, I dragged myself out of bed.
The marks left on my body from last night were not very noticeable. I’d like to keep it that way. Aiden was sleeping peacefully in his little twin-sized bed. He must have been traumatized by the event that occurred last night, but thank God he didn’t witness most of it.
Before leaving, I called my mom telling her everything, from the five-year time span of taking care of my son all by myself, to Geoff, and to the recent fight that just occurred not too long ago. These talks with my mom and filling her in with what had been going on in my life was touching. I love her. Freshly made pancakes, sausage links, and scrambled eggs with a side of milk for Aiden, I dropped him off at Mrs. Jones shortly and was off to work.
It had been four days and yet, no call. He was supposed to be back two days ago. I tried not to let it get to me, but every time I took someone’s order, refilled the napkins,

walked home, saw a businessman, he was all I could think of. I missed him, but didn’t want to face the rejection.
Four days, why hasn’t there been any contact?
“Tara! You got a table!” my boss, Marty, called.
I snapped back to reality after over thinking possible excuses. So far, every day seemed long and distracting, and I couldn’t help it.
“May I have a cup of coffee?”
I didn’t even have to turn around to figure out it was him. The sound of Geoff’s voice made my eyes water and express my deep emotion. It was right there and then that I knew-- he was back.
“If there’s none available, maybe we could both get a nice dinner after work?” he suggested.
“Whoa, jumping ahead, are we? It’s been a while,” I replied sarcastically.
“My apologies. Would you believe me if I told you that a homeless man stole my phone and that my temporary office didn’t allow outgoing calls? And besides, I never got your number. I’m just so used to honking at your window, or finding you.”
Feeling stupid, I realized that I had never given my number. I couldn’t help but smile and enter his open arms. We both smiled, and soon enough, this diner created good, ongoing memories of him and me.

Cati Courtney
Sledding in December
Hospitals, doctors, ambulances don’t bother me anymore. I was sick for as long as
I can remember, but as of late I’ve been doing quite well. I can recognize the nurses; they still smile with reassurance and wave when I go in for a check up or to recover from a minor relapse. They remember me as a child, weak and small, quivering on my bed sheets waiting for test results or preparing for another surgery. For a while, I lived in there, on the cold bed, watching my inmates being rolled in and out of the small white room.
Hospitals are sterile places, with harsh colors and a constantly panicked environment. Even so, I found comfort there. It was familiar and comfortable. The unpredictable scurry of nurses and doctors made me feel like this is where I was meant to be, where I was destined to be for the rest of my life. I learned this at a very young age in my first real stay that still stands in my memory.
I looked around the room in a daze, struggling to awake from my drug induced sleep. I felt heavy and tired but somehow I manage to awake my self. I opened my eyes to darkness and not quite able to realize the predicament I was in. I searched for something familiar by instinct but found nothing to comfort my sudden fears of the unknown. Desperately, I struggled to move my head, to get a better understanding of where I was, who I was with even but I couldn’t find the strength. I struggled to remain conscious despite the fact that sleep was once again dragging me into the darkness. I couldn’t fight it.

I awoke to voices the next time. Voices that at first I couldn’t recognize, but soon came to realize that they was my mother. She’ll help me, I thought, everything will be okay now. The thought gave me strength to open my eyes, and I was able to look at the first thing I was able to recognize. A man in a white coat and a clipboard was watching me while speaking with her, but she didn’t look as I remembered. Her eyes were swollen and puffy, her nose was red, and somehow she still looked as pale as a ghost.
“Good morning!” the man in the white coat told me. Mom whipped around and stood in awe before she smiled and rushed to me with kisses.
“Good Heavens! How are feeling? Does it hurt?”
I looked at her, confused, and managed to mumble something audible along the lines of, “does what hurt?” She sighed and gave me a look that I have now deemed the
“pity face.”
“Nothing, sweetheart, why don’t you get your rest. You must be very tired.” She brushed the hair from my face and kissed me on the forehead. I wanted more answers, I wanted to know what was going on but I had to agree with her. I was tired, and I did need sleep, so I allowed myself to drift.
Weeks after my initial stay in the hospital, my mom and doctor finally decided that I was ready to be told my diagnosis. It was just like a meeting. I was fully awake and aware, with mom and even my dad sitting in chairs surrounding my freshly cleaned bed.
The doctor came in momentarily to discuss something with my father before my mom grabbed my hand.
“How are feeling?” I smiled at her question. I had already gone through two surgeries and had nurses pricking me with needles all day.

“I’m fine Mom. What’s wrong with me? When can we leave?”
“Oh, sweetheart, we’ll leave soon. You’re just a little sick. You’ll be better in no time, though, I promise.” She slipped her hand beneath my cheek and smiled before she started to cry. My father gently pulled her back so he could calmly explain what was the matter with me.
He told me there was something wrong with my liver. Apparently, it’s something inside of me that helps clean my insides. But it was broken and the doctor’s were trying to fix it. I was helpless; I couldn’t eat fewer sweets, like when I had a cavity. I couldn’t put a band aid over it or have my mom pour the bubbly stuff on it either. There wasn’t anything I could do to fix it, and that fact bothered me for the next few weeks. I just wanted to leave, to go back home and see my dog and attend Mrs. Beatrice’s class. Truth be told, I was beginning to get bored. I would lie there in pain and watch television all day. But the less appealing that became, the more pain I felt. I told my mom I needed a distraction, I needed something to do, and she tried. She brought in my coloring books and dolls. Once she brought in my old friend Clara. But Clara wasn’t allowed to be with me for very long, and I think she was scared of me. Eventually, I gave up hope and sat there hopelessly waiting for sleep to come.
Somehow, maybe it was God or something, but someone blessed me with Mark.
Mark was rolled into my room before my third surgery. At first it was a little awkward, but I was so bored I hardly even noticed.
“My name’s Mark. What’s yours?” he asked.
“My name’s Sarah.” I fidgeted a bit so I could face more towards him.
“How long have you been here?”

“I don’t know, maybe like a couple weeks or something?”
“Yah, I’ve been here a while too.”
For the next couple of weeks, it was apparent that he had been here for a while.
All of the nurses knew him by name and would sneak him treats every now and then. It didn’t take long for us to become friends. We talked about everything, a lot of times about my dog and my school and I asked him about all the secrets of the hospital.
Eventually, they let us walk around as long we had our medicine with us. We would walk around the hospital laughing at everything and anything that we found amusing at the time. He liked when I told him stories about when I was living at home with my friends.
“One time,” I giggled, “ Clara and I were sledding and she went so fast that she flew off of the sled! She went like this high!” I moved my hand above my head to measure the height my friend had reached.
“Wow, that’s high!” He laughed.
“She said she was so scared, but it was so much fun.”
“I’d like to try that someday.”
“Me too.”
We were quiet then, dreaming of our own sledding adventures. I asked my mom to bring in some books with sledding in them so I could show my new friend. She seemed excited at the prospect of a friend in the hospital. She insisted on meeting Mark and brought the books in the following day.
“We’ll take you sledding someday,” she told Mark and we sat and talked. My mom really liked Mark, I could tell. She wanted to go for coffee with his parents, which I didn’t think could happen considering I had never met them. I asked him about that once

and he just told me it made them sad when they came, and they would end up fighting with each other. Naturally, it bothered Mark when his parents fought, so he told them to stay away.
“Psst…Hey, Sarah…you awake?” Mark loudly whispered. I groggily turned my head.
“I am now…why are you up so late?”
“I couldn’t sleep…I was going to wait until tomorrow, but I just couldn’t hold it in!”
“What is it?” I asked eagerly.
“My mom called yesterday…I asked if I could go sledding with you guys sometime…”
“What’d she say?” I interrupted.
“She said if my doctor’s says it’s okay that she’s fine with it! She said yes, Sarah.
I never thought she would, but she did. She said yes!”
“I can’t wait! You’ll love it, I promise. It’s so much fun. I know this really good hill that’s so much fun!”
We squealed in delight and managed to stay up two hours after curfew just talking. Our plans were much more concrete now. Nothing was concrete when you lived here, nothing really lasted, but now we had what every other kid had. Two friends made plans for a play date. It’s such small things that people take for granted every day. I didn’t, though. I understood how special and rare our circumstances were and I was grateful for it.

The doctor said that on December 15 th
he would be ready. He would be allowed out for the first time in a long time. We were so excited that by November we listed everything we would do to the very last marshmallow in our mugs. But Mark started to come in the room less and less; he said it was for tests. I was worried, as I had learned early on that tests never lead to good news. December 15 th
was creeping upon us and so did the frequency of Mark’s tests. On December 13 th
he no longer came to our private little room I had begun to call home. I asked the nurses and the doctors where he had gone but no one heard me. No one listened that he was gone. I was discharged December first and called the hospital everyday only to continue to receive the convoluted responses. My mom became worried about me, so she called herself. She told me that it would be all right, that Mark was okay. He just transferred to another hospital more fitting to his particular needs. I was relieved, but angry. He left me, he didn’t tell me what was going on, and most importantly he broke our plans. I counted on him and believed that he would be there,

Alyssa Duffy
Short Story
Lucky
It was the first day of high school and I could barely contain my nervousness. I picked out my cutest outfit and did my hair in the cutest way I knew possible. I was looking good. I walked to the bus stop and waited for about fifteen minutes until it finally came, and I was off to a whole new world. When I got to school, it looked just like any other school and the day dragged on just like any other school day. I don’t know what I was so worried about. I was very anxious to get home. After my eighth period science class I darted to the bus. On my way to the bus, I saw my twin brother, Danny. He was walking with someone whom I've never seen before, but he was a cutie.
"Danny!" I yelled, as I ran up to him. "How was your first day?"
"It was all right. This is my friend Mike. He's coming home on the bus with us,"
Danny replied.
"Oh, hi, Mike. I'm Dana," I said, trying to sound as cool as possible.
He said hi, and the three of us continued to walk onto the bus. I wanted to sit next to Mike but I couldn't since he was Danny's friend, not mine. So, I sat behind them and tried to be a part of their conversation, but they obviously wanted nothing to do with me.
I was so embarrassed about trying to be a part of the conversation. I felt like such an idiot. What if Mike knew I thought he was cute? I hope he didn't.
Yes! We were finally home. I guess all the things going around in my head passed the time because it felt like it took five seconds to get home after I embarrassed myself.

I walked home from the bus stop by myself, Danny and Mike far behind. I didn't want to be around them after I had just made a fool of myself. I got inside and my mom was in the kitchen doing the dishes.
"How was your first day?!" she said excitedly.
"Danny is bringing a friend home! He's really cute and I embarrassed myself on the bus. I don't know what to do!" I yelled.
"Okay, first of all, relax," my mom, said laughing. "I'm sure you didn't make that big of a fool of yourself. Just act like nothing happened."
"No, I really did. I looked so dumb trying to talk to them!" I said.
"Oh, stop it," my mom replied.
The boys walked through the door and my mom glanced at Mike and then looked back at me and winked. I quickly ran out of the kitchen and darted up to my room. She was so embarrassing. My mom introduced herself to Mike and then he and Danny went upstairs to Danny's room. When they went up, I went back down to talk to my mom some more.
"He seems nice," my mom said. "You two would make a cute couple."
"Mom! Stop! You're not funny!" I yelled.
The day was quickly coming to an end when Mike left our house. He politely said goodbye to all of us and went home. About thirty seconds after Mike was out the door, my brother made a comment to me, "You like Mike."
"No, I don't! Why would you say that?" I replied.
"It's so obvious. Don't even bother. You'll never have a chance," Danny said. “He would never date my sister, that would be so weird.”

The next day at school I saw Mike walking in the hallways. I looked at him from far away, but I didn't want him to know that I saw him, so I looked away when he got closer.
"Dana!" Mike said. "Hey, how you doin'?"
"Oh hey Mike," I replied nonchalantly. "I'm good. How are you?"
"I'm all right, lookin' for your brother. Have you seen him?"
"No, I haven't. Sorry," I replied.
"It's cool. I'll talk to you later," he said.
"See ya," I said back.
*
Weeks went by where Mike was in and out of my house and the more he was around, the more I liked him. I just didn't know if he felt the same way. He talked to me and sometimes he flirted with me. Maybe he did like me. Or maybe he didn't and I was just making stuff up in my head. It was terrible. Why did we girls put ourselves through this kind of thing? It was nauseating.
*
After school the next day, Mike and Danny were in the basement playing video games and I was in my room on the computer. I heard footsteps coming up the stairs and

I just assumed it was my mom, so I asked her to get me a drink. But, to my surprise, Mike turned the corner and was standing in my doorway.
"Sure, what do ya want?" he said, laughing.
"I'm sorry! I thought you were my mom," I replied, laughing as well.
"So, what are you doing?" Mike said.
"Nothing, just on the computer. How's playing video games?"
"It's okay but Danny's more into it than I am."
"Yeah, he's like obsessed," I said.
"So, uh, what are you doing on Friday?" Mike asked.
"I don't know. Probably nothing. What are you doing?”
"Well, I was wondering if you wanted to go out, like to the movies or something."
My heart stopped and my stomach did all those twists and turns like it does when you’re on an upside down roller coaster.
"Oh, um, yeah, sure," I answered.
"Okay, cool. I'll see ya Friday then."
"Okay, see ya."
Oh my gosh. Did that really just happen? Was I dreaming? Oh my gosh. Mike just asked me out! What was I going to wear?! I ran downstairs to tell my mom, and she was just as happy as I was. Wow, my first date with a boy!
*

Friday finally came and I was getting ready to go to the movies with Mike. I went to my closet and picked out a cute, simple outfit. I didn't want to look too dressy. I wore a short sleeve, white shirt with a v-neck and my favorite pair of jeans, with my favorite pair of black flip-flops. I wore my hair curly, since it’s normally straight. I wanted to mix it up a bit.
I heard a knock at the door and my stomach dropped. It was Mike. Of all people, my brother had to answer the door, and of course, he had to rag on Mike that he was going out on a date with me. I didn't see what the big deal was. We were just two people going out on a date. It just so happens that he was my brother's best friend. After Danny said all his little jokes, Mike and I left for the movies. His mom drove us, and it was really cute. We got to the movie theater, and he paid for my ticket! It was so exciting to me. After we bought our tickets, we made our way to the snack counter and Mike bought a bag of popcorn and a large soda for us to share. We were a little late to the movie, so we missed about five minutes in the beginning, but it was no big deal. We sat down and I started nibbling at the popcorn, while Mike drank our soda. About half way into the movie, he pulled one of those "I'm tired. I'm going to stretch and yawn" things, and then he put his arm around me. It made me really nervous and I didn’t really know what to do at first. But then, I calmed down and rested my head on his shoulder. We finished the movie holding each other’s hands. That was the first date for Mike and me, and we continued to date for the next ten years.
*

It was my twenty-fourth birthday and Mike was taking me out to a nice fancy restaurant. We walked in and the lighting was dim, yet we could still see each other.
There was a huge window with a view of the Delaware River for everyone to see. It was so beautiful. The hostess sat us down at our table and we were right next to the window with the view of the river. I couldn't have asked for a better table. I ordered chicken parmesan and Mike ordered shrimp scampi. Both meals were delicious.
This restaurant was known for their desserts, so I had to get one. I got cheesecake with whipped cream and strawberries on top. I was enjoying the view, my cheesecake, and Mike's company. It was a great birthday. While I was eating my cheesecake, I bit on something hard. I spit it back out and it was an engagement ring! I looked at Mike and he was next to me, down on one knee. My heart stopped and my palms started sweating.
Then Mike said the words every girl wants to hear. "Dana, will you marry me?"
"Yes!" I said back. "Of course, I'll marry you!"
The whole restaurant was looking at us, and everyone started clapping. Usually I don't like the attention, but I wanted everyone to be looking at me at this moment. It was the happiest moment of my life. I felt like the luckiest girl alive.
*
After ten years of dating, and a year and a half of wedding planning, it was finally here, my wedding day. We had worked on a house that took us fourteen months to rebuild, while planning a wedding at the same time. Now, it was finally time to get married and move into our very own house.

The wedding was beautiful. We got married in the same church as Mike's parents and all of his aunts and uncles. All of our family was there to help celebrate. It was very nerve racking, though. I was standing in the back of the church waiting to walk down the aisle, and I could feel my stomach doing flips. Then I heard the music start to play, and the double doors in front of me opened and I saw Mike waiting at the altar for me. I think that that moment was the happiest moment of my life. Danny was standing next to Mike, as his best man, and he gave me a smile and a wink to reassure me that everything was okay. I started to walk down the aisle and the closer I got to the altar, the more nervous I got. But, as soon as I got up there next to Mike, all my nerves went away. I was just anxious to say the words, “I do.” I couldn’t wait to finally be Mike’s wife.
After the mass, we made our way to the reception hall. It was gorgeous. We took pictures outside where they had a fountain and a coliseum set up, just for taking pictures.
We walked inside and there were beautiful white flowers everywhere, with a balcony looking down. It was gorgeous and everything that I wanted. It was perfect. The dinner was delicious and it seemed like everyone else enjoyed it as well. After dinner was over, the DJ started playing music and that’s when it really got fun. Everyone was dancing and having a great time. It was more than I could have ever asked for. My wedding was like every little girl’s dream wedding. It was perfect.
As I was dancing with everyone on the dance floor, the DJ announced that it was time for the father-daughter dance. Everyone moved away and let my dad get through the crowd. The song was “You Are So Beautiful To Me.” My dad grabbed my hand and spun me around like a princess. While my dad was spinning me, I caught a glimpse of Mike walking out of the room. Where was he going? Why would he be leaving during my

dance with my father? The song was over and I gave my dad a kiss on the cheek. Then, I had to go track down Mike so that he could dance with his mother. I walked out of the room and walked down the hall to see if maybe he was in the bathroom. I opened the door the to the men’s restroom and said his name. No response. But I heard noise coming from the coat closet that was in between the men and women’s bathrooms. I opened the door and my heart literally stopped. I couldn’t breathe. My palms started sweating and I felt like I was going to faint. All I could feel was a single tear drip down my face, as I witnessed my husband cheating on me with my best friend. I ran away and Mike started chasing me down the hall.
“GET AWAY FROM ME, YOU SLIMEY PIG!” I screamed with tears coming from my eyes. I didn’t want anything to do with him. I ran back into the reception hall and went on the microphone and hysterically said, “The party is over. Everyone go home.”
That night, I got home and brought all of my presents and things into the new house that Mike and I built together. I sat on the couch, still in my wedding dress, and cried. I looked around at the hard work we put into building this house and realized maybe I wasn’t so lucky after all.
The next day, Mike came knocking at my door. I saw that it was him and I didn’t want to open the door, but I did. He gave the usual spiel, “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. Blah blah blah.” I didn’t accept his apology. He asked if we could works things out and said he wanted to live in this beautiful house with me. I told him that he could live in this house, but I wouldn’t be in it. Deep down inside, I really did want to take him back. I loved him

so much, but my pride wouldn’t let me. I wouldn’t allow myself to let a man treat me like that. I deserved better. And I had planned on getting him back somehow.
Little did Mike know, I had already called the real estate agent and put the house up for sale. I made sure that the real estate agent didn’t put a sign up, but I told her to make sure that the house got sold. After that, I wanted to get as far away as possible from that house and that man. So, I bought a cute little apartment on the other side of town for only one person and I would be the only one living in it. And that was the beginning to my new life.

Allison Fitzgerald
Dirty Dishes
Walking out of the continuously rotating doors of the law firm, on to the busy streets of
Philadelphia, I am now only one in a million. I carry my black, leather briefcase on my right side and see many pedestrians doing the same thing. All of the people look very professional and serious. I feel that way in the office; however, as soon as I leave that place, I try not to be as serious. I’m wearing heels, which are creating painful blisters on the soles of my feet. I am tired after working ten exhausting hours, and I just want to go home. Making my way toward the street, I attempt to wave down a taxi. Three taxis pass by me, and finally, the fourth taxi pulls on the side of the road where I stand. Relieved to finally be off my feet, I tell the taxi driver to take the long way back to my apartment. I often make this request. Being alone allows me to think without any distractions: work, my fiancé, the wedding. Before I can get into deep thought, my cell phone begins ringing. With each ring, it gets louder and louder. The caller ID says Tony is calling, so I push the ignore button and attempt to get back on track with my thoughts. What seems like three minutes later, the driver pulls over and informs me I have reached my destination. The fare costs $9.74, which is only $2.64 more than my usual fare, without the detour. I give the driver a ten-dollar bill and walk up the steps to my apartment building. I look for my keys, which are buried in the bottom of my briefcase, and I find them after searching for a few minutes. After I walk up the steps to my second-floor apartment the keys unlock the door. I place my briefcase on the sofa and feel relieved when I finally make it to my bed.
My fiancé is not home, and I lie in bed, wondering.
I hear the couple in the apartment above me, yelling, for the third time this week. I can’t understand what they’re saying, but it sounds serious. Listening to their screaming reminds me of the first time I overheard a fight between my parents. Dad put me to bed at ten o’clock; that was our little secret.
Mom told him my bedtime was nine, but he often allotted me an extra hour to watch T.V. or play with dolls. That specific night, I was allowed to stay up late to watch a recorded episode of Rugrats. Dad put me to bed, but I awoke later in the night. They thought I was sound asleep in my room upstairs, but little did they know, I was wide-awake. Mom returned home from her night shift at the hospital around twelve. My

dad had been up waiting for her, which was a normal occurrence. He often greeted her when she arrived home, so I thought nothing of it. I heard my mom’s keys in the front door and then my dad’s voice.
“I can’t take anymore of this,” he shouted. It was hard to believe my dad would yell like that. I’ve never heard him speak in a tone other than his soft, relaxed tone.
“Take anymore of what?” She sounded confused.
“You work too much! This shit is ridiculous!”
“I’m tired; can we talk about this in the morning?” my mom asked. I could hear the exhaustion in her voice.
As my mom started up the steps, I heard a loud shatter. This noise woke my brothers up, and we all ran to the top of the steps to see what had happened. Mom was devastated, tears flowing down her face.
Broken glass was shattered on our living room floor, and we had one less lamp on the end table. My dad had a smile on his face. Did mom break the lamp? Did Dad break it? I didn’t know, but at the time, if I had to guess, I would have put the blame on her. A few seconds later, I was proven wrong.
“In heaven’s name, what possessed you to do that?” my mom stuttered as she continued to cry.
“It was an accident,” my dad repeated about fifty times.
“That was no accident. You have a problem, and I can’t deal with your anger anymore.”
My brothers came into my bedroom with me, and we all crowded onto my bed, baffled. I, only ten years old, thought this was a fight that my parents would resolve. My brothers didn’t even speak a word. It took hours before we all fell asleep.

I doze off for about twenty minutes before I am awakened by Tony’s turbulent entrance. Tony always has to flaunt his masculinity, whether he is talking about sports or lifting the heaviest weight. I hear the fridge open and then the microwave. I hang in bed a few extra minutes, listening to the surprisingly soothing noise of the microwave, before greeting him in the kitchen. Once I finally get up, I see he is reading the newspaper and eating leftovers from the previous night. I hate they way he chews, opening his mouth with each bite, and the way he slurps as he takes a sip of his beverage. I’ve learned to deal with his bad habits, however, and this is just one on a list of many.
“Hey, honey, how was your day?” I ask him, in hopes of starting a conversation.
He continues eating, acting as if I am invisible. When Tony and I first met, he was the one fighting for my attention. I was fresh out of college, at a local bar with my friends. Tony decided to stroll over to us girls, and he tried to get my attention, specifically. He said a few corny pick-up lines, and my friends thought he was a total loser. However, I found them to be quite charming. He asked me out, and we had our first date at a fancy restaurant. Tony was such a gentleman. He paid for my dinner; he held doors open for me and walked me to my front door. He was too perfect. We continued sating for a few more years, and everything was great. We seemed to get along so well, and we were best friends. However, as time passed, the whole gentleman thing seemed to disappear, and our friendship dissolved.
I search for something to eat but find nothing. I settle for eating leftovers, as well. I take the plastic container from the bottom shelf of the fridge. I pry open the plastic lid, grab silverware from the drawer, and a plate from the cabinet. Tony has still not uttered a word to me. I use a spoon to scoop some meatballs and spaghetti onto my plate.
“Tony, would you like some more?” I try to start up a conversation, once again.
“No!” he shouts, his veins popping out of his neck. “I don’t want anything from you.” His eyes are full of rage, and his back is tensed up with anger.
This response takes me back. I have no idea why he is acting this way. Usually a tough day at work puts him into a bad mood, but he has been out of work for three months. I am lost. I do not know

what to say, but before I can even have a moment to speak, Tony storms out the apartment door. He leaves his dirty plate and newspaper on the table. I retrieve the plate from the table and place it in the sink. As I fold up the newspaper, my tears smear the ink on the sports page. I shuffle all the pages into their proper places and fold the newspaper back over on its crease. I make my way over to the sink and start the water. I turn the faucet toward the left; I always wash my dishes with cold water. I hear my cell phone ringing, but I decide to finish the task at hand. I dry each dish with the dishtowel my mother gave me as a housewarming gift. I place the plates in the cabinet and the utensils in the drawer. Once everything is in its place, I grab a tissue from the counter and wipe my tears from my cheeks. I straighten my back and head toward my bedroom.
I immediately pick my phone up from the night table to see whose call I missed. The phone says
Tony called, and I now have one unread voice message. I call my voicemail, dial my password, and listen to his apology. Before I can finish listening, I hear someone open my bedroom door. It’s Tony.
“I’m sorry,” he says. He sits beside me on the bed and grabs my left had. “I shouldn’t have acted like that. I just had a rough day.”
I grasp his hand and he pulls me close to him. When he holds me, everything feels fine.
The next morning, I wake up late and have to hurry to get ready for work. Tony is not in the apartment, but I have no time to check up on him. As I walk out of the bedroom, I pick my briefcase up from sofa and see the mess Tony left for me in the kitchen. The newspaper is in two separate piles, and his unfinished cup of coffee sits beside his unfinished bowl of cereal. I put my briefcase by the front door and head to clean up his mess. When I finish the dishes, the clock reads 7:18 A.M. I have to be at work in twelve minutes; I could make it, if I were the only person on the road. However, I will again be one in a million. Therefore, I’m going to be late. I hurry down the steps and out the door of the building. The streets are filled; I attempt to wave down a taxi. Luckily, the first taxi that passes me is unoccupied, and the driver

pulls nearly two feet in front of where I stand. I tell him where I need to be, and he takes off. I jiggle my legs on the floor of the taxi and bite my nails. The seconds seem to be moving like minutes.
I arrive at work, seven minutes and thirty-three seconds late. I turn my cell phone onto silent, to avoid any and all distraction. Immediately, I dive into my most recent project in an attempt to shake off the rough morning I had. I work progressively for hours, even forgetting about lunch. Work is so comforting to me. It pulls me into an entirely different world where I am in charge. I do things the way I like to do them. I finish the project around five and decide to head home. Before I leave the office, I check my phone. It reads: 3 Missed Calls . Two were from Tony, and the third was from my mom. I decide to return her call.
She answers after only two rings, and I am now in the back seat of a taxi, heading toward the apartment.
“Hello, Lisa,” she says, sounding concerned.
“Hi, Mom; how are you?” I ask.
“I’m well. How are you?”
“I’m fine. I just wanted to return your call, but I’m on my way home, so I can’t really talk. I’ll see you later.”
“Okay. Bye.”
The taxi fair costs $7.10. I pay the driver and walk up to my apartment. Tony is lying on the sofa when I open the door. He is watching a Phillies game; they are winning three to one in the bottom of the fourth inning. Dirty dishes sit on the coffee table in front of him. It looks like he didn’t wait for me to eat, again. I walk over to him and sit beside him.
“How was your day?” I ask him.
“It was fine,” he surprisingly answers.

I watch the game with him until the Phillies secure the win at the top of the seventh, with the score being seven to two. Then, I pick up his dishes and bring them to the kitchen. I turn the faucet to the right.
As soon as I feel the hot water touch my hands, I immediately turn the faucet to the left. The cold water just feels right. Tony joins me in the kitchen. He opens the drawer and pulls out the ice-cream scooper.
“Would you like some?” he asks, with a cute look on his face.
“I would love some.”
We share a bowl of green mint chocolate chip. I like white mint chocolate chip, but he likes the green. The apartment building is silent aside from Tony chomping on each chocolate chip that enters his mouth. I try to finish the ice cream as fast as I can so I don’t have to listen to his chewing. We finish the entire bowl within five minutes, and of course, I clean up the dish. I pick up the dish; annoyance can easily be seen on my face.
“What’s wrong with you?” he scowls.
“What’s wrong with me? Tony, what’s wrong with you? I do everything and anything for you, and what do I get in return? Nothing. I get nothing in return from you. I constantly clean up after you, I provide you with a place to live, and I keep my mouth shut when you do annoying things, such as chewing like a cow!” The words shoot out of my mouth before they filter through my brain.
“Fuck you, Lisa. You are so controlling, and I can’t even stand to be with you. You can’t have everything your way! Proposing to you was the worst mistake of my life.” Tony storms out of the apartment.
After waiting for his apologetic phone call for hours, and not receiving it, I eventually fall asleep. I wake up the next morning. It’s 11:00 A.M. Saturday morning; I don’t have work. I get myself up out of bed and head toward the kitchen. I prepare a pot of coffee and lie on the couch until it’s ready. Once the coffee is finished, I grab a mug from the cabinet and pour myself a cup of decaf. I don’t add any cream or sugar. I

like to have my coffee black. Before I can take a sip of the deliciously smelling beverage, my cell phone begins ringing, and ringing, and ringing.
“Hi, honey; it’s me.”
“Hi, Mom. How are you?
“I’m well. How have you been?” she asks.
This is something any mother asks her daughter, but it creates a lump in my throat. The lump is a warning sign that tears are on their way out of my tear ducts and down my cheeks. Before I can even answer her question, the tears start gradually rolling down my face. Tears are often an indication that something is wrong, so I have to tell my mom now.
“I can’t juggle everything, and I don’t know what to do,” I manage to get out, while still crying.
“Honey, it’s all right. Everything will be okay,” she says.
Any other mom would pester her daughter in order to get to the bottom of the problem. However, my mom is not any normal mom. She knows how to comfort me best. Asking me to tell her what is wrong will only further upset me. Therefore, she avoids that mess all together. I sob for a few more minutes, and I can hear my mom’s voice on the other line.
“Lisa, you’re a strong woman. Whatever’s got you down will pass. You can get over this and move on with your life,” I manage to hear, while still crying.
The tears eventually stop, and I am now able to respond to my mother.
“Thank you,” I say, while sniffling at the same time.
“You’re welcome, baby. I’ve been through rough times, and I’ve learned a lot of things.”
“I know. I know.”

“Okay, well, if you need anything else, I’m just one call away.”
“Okay, bye, Mom.”
“Goodbye.”
My mom has been through a lot of things. I think that’s why she is the only person I go to for advice. I remember the divorce. It happened only a few weeks after I witnessed their first fight. Dad never came home after that fight. He called each night, however. I usually answered the phone first and wanted to talk to my dad for hours. I asked him where he was and when he would be coming home, but he could never answer my questions. He told me that he didn’t have much time to talk and wanted to say hello to my brothers, too. That made me sad, but I always got the boys on the phone to talk to him. I just wanted my dad to come home and have my mom forgive him. I wished every night for that to happen. However, it never did. Dad moved to an apartment a few towns over, and we visited him two nights a week. I didn’t like his apartment. It was small, and he had nothing good to eat in his fridge. He used plastic plates with his silverware, and his dishes were never clean.
Years passed before I learned why my parents divorced; I was in college. It was Easter, and our family’s tradition was lunch with dad and dinner with mom. I was at lunch with my brothers, at Dad’s apartment. He made frozen pizza, and we ate lunch on the couch. His coffee table was full of stains and crumbs. I never said anything to him about his sloppiness, but I had finally had enough.
“Dad, this place is a mess. I think you should clean it,” I said, trying not to come off too harsh.
“Lisa, this place is fine. Stop acting like your mother, and just ignore it,” he replied.
These words sent me over the edge.
“You want me to stop acting like Mom? What’s that supposed to mean? You want to live in a pigpen? God forbid something is actually clean. God forbid you actually are happy. What’s wrong with that
Dad? What’s wrong with that?”

I remember being so angry that I left the apartment before anyone could even respond. I headed to
Mom’s house for dinner, and when I arrived she could tell I was upset. I didn’t want to talk about it at first.
I just wanted to help her prepare dinner to distract myself. We steamed vegetables, and I made mashed potatoes. The preparation only distracted me for so long, however. years.
“Mom, why did you and dad get divorced?” I finally asked after being in the dark for so many
“Honey, it’s complicated,” was all she said.
“Complicated, it is, but what happened?”
“It was a doomed marriage from the beginning.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Three months after we wed, I saw the true side of your father. I fixed him dinner and had it ready for him when he arrived home from work. He ate it without speaking a single word to me, and finally, once he had finished his food, I asked him what was wrong. He just screamed and yelled about how unhappy he was, for no reason. His face was red with anger, and he even had his hands in fists. That was not normal.
It’s not normal for someone to go off like he did, with no cause behind it. I should have seen it then, but I forgave him, and we moved on with our lives. Nothing that extreme happened for a while, so I thought that outrage was a one-time thing. Boy, I was wrong. When you were eleven-years old, he did it again and again. He was like a ticking time bomb. No one knew if or when he would go off. One night, while you were at grandma’s house for the evening he went off the deep end. He smashed every single dish in the kitchen, glasses, plates, and bowls. I was so frightened by his actions that I called the police. When the police arrived, your dad was as cool as a cucumber. He told the police it was an accident, and the police told me they couldn’t do anything, but I knew something wasn’t right. A few weeks later, your father came home and flipped out, yet again. This time, the neighbors called the cops, and they took your father away.
Something was not right in his head. He was put into jail for three days before being admitted to the psychiatric facilities at the hospital. They ran tests on your father and determined he was bipolar. Finally, I

knew what had caused all the random outbursts. Finally, I had some answers. However, your father was in denial. He didn’t believe he had a problem and refused any kind of medication or help. I told him I couldn’t deal with his anger if he wasn’t going to receive any help. Therefore, we got a divorce.”
I lie on the couch, remembering that Easter, how awful I felt for pestering my mom about the situation. For all those years I had no idea what had happened between my parents. I am now finally in the light and know the truth. I know how my mom suffered all those years because of my dad’s stubbornness. I don’t want to struggle the way she did. I hear keys jingle in the lock, and of course, Tony strolls in. He heads toward the kitchen, and I hear him open the refrigerator. I decide to turn on the T.V. and flip through the channels. Nothing catches my eyes, so I just lie there with my eyes shut. I try to block out the noise
Tony continues to make in the kitchen, but it’s impossible. The fury builds up in my body, and I march into the kitchen. I look past the dirty plate, bowl, fork, and spoon in the sink and sit down beside him. I stare into his big, blue eyes and take a deep breath.
“Tony, I can’t go through with this marriage. I don’t want to be miserable the rest of my life,” I actually say it.
He is silent, and I don’t know what he’s thinking.
“Fuck you, Lisa. If you continue to be so damn overbearing, you’re going to be miserable the rest of your life. I have nothing to do with your misery.”
I walk out of the kitchen, leaving the dishes to sit in the sink, and I am the one to leave the apartment. I walk down onto the street and feel refreshed when I open the door to the outdoors. I step onto the sidewalk. I am wearing jeans and a tee shirt. I am wearing sneakers, and my feet are comfortable. The blisters on the soles of my feet have healed. I am wide-awake, and instead of getting a taxi, I decide to walk. I don’t know where I am going, but that doesn’t matter. I am now one in a million.

Karlee Friedrichs
Yeah, I was new. Well, I lived in the suburbs of Philly (well, Philadelphia) for my entire life, besides college when I went to University of Pittsburgh. But I didn’t actually know the city. Luckily, I found a place to sublet with one other girl. Hopefully, she was normal, because she would be my first and only girl friend in the city. She told me she graduated from NYU and wanted to try a different setting. My friends from Pitt did not share the same attitude. They decided to find jobs in Pittsburgh and stay there while I took an extra year to graduate in my major. Then, they all disappeared. “Oh, Kalen, you’ll be fine in a new city! All of us are starting new!” I hated when they told me that.
They dispersed to Baltimore, Chicago, Atlanta, and other cities no one cared for. I was a bit biased. I loved Philly.
But she was perfect. Phoenix had green eyes and bouncy blonde hair that I told her looked very Orange County. She just laughed at me, though, and promised it was natural. There was rarely an uncomfortable moment between us, which I very much appreciated.
After a few weeks, we were inseparable. We ate out, and I got her a job at the accounting firm my sister works at, though this didn’t thrill her. She envisioned herself as a reporter for a magazine or newspaper, but jobs are hard to find these days.
One day, it was sunny so we took a little trip down South Street. She made a face while feeling the material in a store. I asked, “Do you see anything you like?” She looked at me with a fake smile and nodded. I knew her faces well now. “You’ve never shopped out of New York City, have you?” I asked with an amused expression. She sighed.

“No, I haven’t. I didn’t want you to think I was all high maintenance.”
I replied, still a little amused, “But you are a little. Do you feel uncomfortable in a store with such low prices and cheaper material by unknown clothes lines?”
Phoenix started giggling. “Fine! Yes, a little! I’m sorry. I’m still an upper class city girl at heart! No matter how much I try to break away from the devil.”
I grinned. I knew who the devil was; she’d made it very clear since day one.
“That’s okay. We’ll shop on Broad Street next time, you know, the expensive shops.”
“Is it too soon for you to meet my mother?” She looked almost ashamed to ask.
“Of course not! I’m surprised she wants to come to Philly,” I replied, encouraging her to continue about her mom. Her change of expression and subject startled me a little.
“I think she’s coming to torture me back to New York City.”
“Right, so when is she coming?” I asked while browsing through a rack.
“Um six o’clock. She really wanted to meet you, Kay!” she replied, trying to make me feel better, though she knew the wrath coming.
“Today? Phee, when were you planning on telling me?” I didn’t even give her time to explain. “We have so much work to do on the house. We have four hours and it seems like your mom is the judgmental-everything-must-be-perfect type. Let’s go!”
“Thank you for being so understanding! I know she’ll like you. Trust me.”
We cleaned for two and a half hours and then dressed. No time to cook, so I ordered take out from 10 Arts, the restaurant of a contestant on Top Chef. Mrs. Radley knocked at 6:00 sharp. We had a pleasant dinner and covered the basics: Where are you from? What do you do? Where did you go to school? What’s your family like?

Finally, it was all over. Mrs. Radley was making her way out, and I made an excuse of cleaning up to give her some time alone with Phoenix. She walked with her daughter to her BMW.
Fifteen minutes later, I heard the door slam shut before it opened. Phoenix paced in rage, and I gave her a minute to start. “She told me that I needed to find someone to consider marrying. I’m 23! And when she says someone, she means a wealthy businessman willing to move to NYC. I know it.”
I knew she didn’t want to hear anything, so I let her storm off to her room as my hands occupied themselves with a towel. As the thoughts of my family came to me, I realized nothing was wrong with us really. Maybe we weren’t ever really that close or kept in touch, but at least I was allowed to be whoever the hell I wanted to be.
*
Phoenix, a few other friends, and I tailgated one of the Phillies games. It was a scorching summer day for being so north of the equator. I never really minded the heat, though. I sat on the edge of the Ford Explorer’s open trunk and let the rays toast my skin.
Reece, my boyfriend of roughly two years, invited a few friends to help my hopes of
Phoenix meeting a guy. Maybe she’d take an interest in Jake. He’d recently moved here after getting a job as some kind of engineer. I suppose he was one of my best friends. He was always around whenever we went out and would always call me about problems. I met him through Reece, though, and they were pretty close. Would it be weird if we two sets of best friends double dated? As I pondered this, I hadn’t noticed the space next to me being filled and could only tell from the familiar scent radiating off of him.

“Oh, hey, I was just thinking about you!” I gave his tanned biceps a tight squeeze and felt a small flinch in response. I looked up to see his smiling face of perfectly aligned features and dusty blond hair hiding his eyes. “Have you met my roommate, Phoenix?”
Jake’s face fell just a little, his smile a little more forced. “Yes, but she seems to have some of attraction to Brad. So I think I’m out of the running,” he chuckled a little.
“What’s so fun-,” I was then hit by a meteor, I swear, crushing me to the side of the car. “Phoenix? Are you all right?” I struggled out.
“Brad is amazing. Thank you so much! Kay, you honestly are the best. ”
“Wow, I’m really happy you met someone! That was quick.”
“I know! I’m going back to talk to him. We’re playing ladder golf, and he’s pretty good. Love you!” she said, giving me a kiss on the cheek and running off.
“Ah, well, she’s a little hard to tame. I hope he’s up for the challenge,” I went on, trying to regain my thought.
“Right well I’m not really in either type. And I prefer brunettes,” he added and I looked down, twisting my chestnut colored hair through each finger, thinking of a good brunette for him. Maybe Allie? “But she’s lucking out. His family has a lot of money and expects him to find someone of the same standards. I’m not surprised he went after her.”
“Yeah, I suppose. She’ll be all right. But I’m not sure if marriage is in her or my vocabulary yet; we’re only twenty-three,” I responded with a polite laugh to avoid awkwardness. “Hm, Reece should be here by now.”
“Yeah, Kay, how’s that going now that you live in the city? Don’t you think it’ll be hard to not live near each other anymore? I mean, he’ll be at his parents’ house and you’ll be here in the city,” he said sounding skeptical. It made me frown a little.

“No, he’s moving to the city, actually. He’ll be here in a couple months or so.”
“Right, I knew that.” His voice seemed to trail off a bit. I waited patiently for him to finish his thoughts and continue. “And he did get that job at the stadium.”
“Yeah, he’s moving out near you.” My phone started ringing, and my eyes narrowed in frustration as to where this boy was. “You’re in trouble. Where are you?” I asked as I smiled at Jake.
“I’m so sorry. I can’t make it! My parents went away and don’t trust Jane alone.
You were sixteen once. Don’t tell me you never had a party,” he explained. I could hear the smile in his voice, which made my own lips dance above my teeth even more.
“Okay, you’re forgiven. But you’ll have to make it up to me.”
“I promise I will soon. Don’t forget, you have to come for dinner tomorrow. My mom is making your favorite and wants you to bring your infamous crème brulee,” Reece continued.
“I will definitely be there for her lasagna,” I confirmed.
He chuckled lightly. “Call me later then. I love you.”
“Okay, love you, too.” I snapped the phone shut and released a sigh. My frown gave me away too easily, and Jake tried to cheer me up. My focus couldn’t stay with him, though. I saw Phoenix stumbling, with a hand over her mouth. I groaned, grabbed a trash bag, and made my way to help her.
*
Reece jumped in a puddle, splashing me from the bottom of my shirt to my Coach rain boots, though we were both already drenched with no umbrella or hood. I giggled

and playfully pushed him. He swept up my hand into his. We walked down Market
Street, almost dancing towards his apartment.
“The Continental was a very pleasant experience, don’t you agree, Ms. Stone?”
“Yes, we’ll have to add it to our list. It wasn’t even that expensive. Great food.
Awesome drinks as well.” I winked at him.
He laughed as the rain patted down his reddish brown hair. “You are referring to our nonexistent list since this is our first outing together in Philly, correct?”
“That is correct,” I smiled up at him. I loved the slight twinkle in his steel blue eyes and the way he was always so charming. I frowned suddenly at him.
“What’s wrong?” he said with a look of confusion.
“I can’t decide if I like the rain or not. I like how it makes your hair glisten, though it also makes my hair curl. But I don’t really mind the wetness. It’s almost refreshing,” I said, taking in a huge whiff of the outside.
“You’re such a silly girl,” he grinned at me. I had to tear my eyes away from his to answer my phone buzzing in my wristlet.
“Hey, Phee, what’s up?” I said into the little silver device, attempting to keep it dry by angling my head. His face fell a bit, disappointed to have someone interrupt our alone time. We hadn’t seen much of each other for the past three months. He looked down and played with my fingers. I generated the best apologetic smile possible.
“Kalen? Hey, it’s Jake. Phoenix left with Bradley and forgot her phone.”
“Oh, well, did you call Bradley?”
“Yes.” Why was he being so short?
“Is there a problem?” I said, suddenly wary.

“I’m pretty sure I heard a plane engine.”
“What the hell?” I sighed. “I’ll figure it out. Thanks for calling.”
“I hope to see you soon, Kay.”
“Right, call me later. We’ll hang out. Bye.” I snapped the phone shut.
Reece stopped walking; I wasn’t sure if it was due to the fact that I started towards my apartment instead of his or my stomping in anger. He lightly pulled me into his arms. I almost fought him off but then fell into him.
“Calm down, love. You can’t save her all the time. Yeah, she’s your friend. I get it. But she’s making her own decisions. And this is so unlike you, too.” I pulled away to look up at him with a perplexed expression.
“Why do you say that?”
He took a moment before starting. “I know you better than anyone, right?” he said slowly with a slight, almost smug, smile. “I just mean that you usually let other people make decisions for themselves and don’t involve yourself with other people’s problems,” he tried to justify his remark. “I think you need to worry about yourself.”
“You don’t think I should care about her? She’s my best friend.”
“I know she is, and I know you care about her. But I care about you. If helping her will make you happy, fine. But if it’s going to worry you all the time...,” he drifted off and rethought, “I love you. You know that. I want what’s best for you, and I’ll always put you before everyone else.” His eyes were pleading for understanding. I couldn’t break them.
I took a moment to comprehend it all before responding. “You’re right.” I looked down, then back up at him, rainwater hitting my eyes. “This is unlike me. I don’t worry

because everything works out. She can take care of herself.” His face relaxed with relief.
I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and pulled away to grab onto his hand to drag him back towards his apartment. He stood stationary, then pulled me back and spun me.
Heavy laughter escaped my mouth. I didn’t realize the other people on the street, staring at our attempt of a dance. I liked to assume it was out of envy. The rain picked up suddenly, and we, still giggling, strolled down the street, hand in hand.
*
“You are getting married.”
“Yes! I’m super excited. And you get to be my maid of honor since I have no siblings and my friends from school don’t talk! Though you’ll have to come to New York
City because that’s where my mom wants me to be, and that’s where Brad is moving so we’ll be living there…,” Phoenix started. I needed a moment to process everything.
“Time out.” I threw up my hands to make a T. She was bouncing on our blue- striped sofa, the first thing we picked out together. “Why are you getting married?”
“He’s so nice to me, Kalen. We just flew to Bermuda for the weekend! His family has a house there, and we flew on his jet. My mom is really excited for me! It was so cute how he proposed on the roof under the tropical stars!” She was grinning, unable to control herself. I didn’t know what to say, so I sat and stared at her.
“You’re both only twenty-three, and it’s so soon,” I responded, trying to understand.
Phoenix’s face relaxed a little, still smiling. Her body fell back into the sofa. “I love him. These past couple months have been amazing.”

I could understand what she was saying to an extent. I had a feeling there was more behind it, though. I knew her, but I wasn’t sure I could save her this time.
“What about Philly? Your job? You want to become a journalist, remember?” I pushed. She frowned. “You wanting to be away from your mother?”
“She hasn’t been so bad lately. And if I marry him, I won’t need to find a job instantly. I could sit back and relax, spend some time in the Hamptons. You know, he really is a good guy. And I want to make my mother proud.”
She was trying to justify her impulse. Her stupidity and irrationality angered me, but she thought for different reasons. “Don’t you understand why she wants you to marry him? Do you think she’d be happy if it were a middle-class kid from the suburbs?”
She looked up to assess my face but couldn’t find much but pure ice. “I know we became close, and I rely on you too much. I’m sorry I’m moving out. You can find another roommate, though! And I’ll visit all the time. Instead of being Phoenix Radley,
I’ll be Phoenix Prince.” She looked at me with pleading eyes.
I couldn’t meet her eyes. I looked down when I stood up. “I’ll be your maid of honor and do anything for you. You aren’t running from your mom anymore. You are her.” It was a low blow; I knew it. Still, I opened the front door, unable to look at her face, and let it slowly close by itself on my way out into the rainy day in the city.
I started walking to the first place that came to mind. My body moved without conscious decision. I hit the door four times with my knuckles. He opened the door without a shirt, and I burrowed myself into his welcoming arms. He pulled me inside and to the couch. I cried for a few minutes and then calmed down. He waited patiently.

“Would you like anything to drink or eat?” Reece said quietly. His voice was so comforting.
“Can we go out? I’m tired of homes.”
“Of course, love,” He gently pulled back to analyze my face. I realized he probably noticed my eye make-up running down my face from the rain. I started to bring my hand up to my eye, but he beat me to it. His hand flew back to mine, characterized by a brushed black thumb, after gently stroking under my eye.
It was all I needed to feel better. He walked me to the bathroom so I could clean up, and he went upstairs to change clothes. He brought me a sweatshirt and an umbrella. I accepted the sweatshirt and declined the umbrella.
“The Continental?” he asked, his steel blue eyes trying to break through my face to see into my head as we walked out into the rain down the sidewalk.
“Whatever you want,” I said, able to smile a little. Instead of grabbing my hand, he held on around my waist. I suppose he was scared of me breaking down again, but the air was invigorating, like him. He could tell I was okay by now after a few minutes but still held me by the waist.
“I heard about the marriage,” he started. I nodded. “If you’re really upset about not having anyone to live with, I could help you out if you want.”
“It’s not so much that,” I responded in a daze, slightly distracted by the phone buzzing in my jacket pocket. It was most likely Phoenix, but I let it ring.
Reece stopped and turned to me, holding both hands in his one. The other he put to my face, and I had trouble concentrating at his touch. “Kalen, I don’t think you can save her this time.”

“I know,” I whispered, unable to break his penetrating gaze. His thumb lightly stroked my cheek.
“You’ll be there for her. I know you will. You’re a good person. You will get out there and be the best damn maid of honor ever and she’ll never forgive herself for leaving you.” All I could do was nod. “I’ll come live with you.”
I flinched, a bit startled, but he still held me quite still. “What?”
“We’ve been together for a couple years now, and you need someone right now.”
I still stared at him. My mood suddenly lightened a little, but my mind couldn’t figure out why. “Are you sure?”
“I’ve never been surer about anything in my entire life,” he said believably.
“I think I’d like that. It makes sense,” I responded softly. My thoughts wandered, foreseeing the future with him. “You think I need someone?”
His eyes assessed mine. I’m sure they were full of curiosity, but he grinned. He seemed to choose his next words carefully. “I’m not saying we have to be engaged or married or anything. I think it’ll be good for us. I need you,” he reasoned. He was absolutely right and I smiled. “And I’ll move out if you find another roommate.”
I thought that over and decided easily. “No. I only want you.”
“Then you’ll only have me.”
I didn’t know what to do next, so I waited for him to move first. He kissed me lightly, and we continued our way, hand in hand, through the rain.

Eveleen Ghazarian
I Love You
I always thought I would meet the love of my life at a young age. With me turning thirty-eight in a couple of days, it got me thinking about my young love. All throughout middle school I had the biggest crush on this girl named Amy. Amy and I rode the same bus home from school, bus number fifty-three. One day, there were absolutely no more empty seats on the bus. Amy was the last one on the bus as always. To be kind, I moved my backpack over so she could sit down. That’s how we started talking and became friends. Ever after that one day we always sat next to each other.
Throughout high school my crush for Amy hadn’t gone away. By the tenth grade, I was head over heels in love with her. The problem was I never thought she liked me back, so I never made a move. Amy and I hung out all the time. We did everything together. After school one day, on the bus, Amy started asking me some questions.
“Todd, are there any girls you like?”
“I don’t know, why?”
“I was just wondering.”
At the time, I didn’t know why she was asking me these questions. Now that I look back at it, I see it was because she liked me. Why was I so stupid back then?
The most memorable night of high school was the senior prom. Amy and I went

together. We had a great time. The night of senior prom I was going to tell her that I liked her. I was so nervous. I repeated what I was going to say to her at least ten times in the mirror. I finally had the perfect opportunity to tell her. Just as I was about to tell her, she started talking about how she was happy she didn’t have a boyfriend before she left for college. She told me that she’d rather go to college without having to worry about a boyfriend.
“Great,” I thought. “Guess I can’t tell her how I feel now.” I quickly switched the subject.
“This is my favorite song,” I said.
“Yeah, it’s a pretty good one,” Amy replied back.
“Todd, you have been such a good friend to me. I’m so happy to have you.
I’m really going to hate leaving you when college rolls around.”
“Yeah me too… me too. I am really going to miss you, Amy.”
By the time I knew it, the song was over and so was prom. Later that night I couldn’t get that word out of my head. “Friends.” It’s a really good thing I didn’t tell her how I felt.
Amy left for college three days after graduation. I was stuck at home, moping around the house all day. I had to wait for August to come around, when I started college. I thought it would be a brand new beginning. I was excited to find out what was in store for me, but at the same time I just wanted to be with Amy.

Amy and I didn’t talk throughout college. I don’t know why, but we just didn’t. I went to Brown and became a doctor. I worked in my hometown for a little, but I wanted a change. I ended up working at a hospital in a Rockland, Maine. Amy always wanted to live in Maine. It made me laugh. I hadn’t thought of Amy in a while.
My fiancé, Jen, moved with me to Rockland. I met Jen at Brown. She was the perfect girl. We lived in a decent sized apartment right around Knox County. I really like working in Maine. It’s beautiful. My fiancé was beautiful. My life couldn’t have been going any better.
I pretty much knew everyone at the hospital. Even though I had only worked there for about six months, I knew most of the staff by name. It was the middle of winter, which I think is one of the most dangerous and busiest times of the year. There’s so much snow, and everyone gets sick. It was the end of January and I just finished checking on one of my patients. Over the loud speaker I heard a familiar name.
“Will Nurse Johnson please come to the main nurses’ office.”
“Johnson, that’s Amy’s last name,” I whispered softly. “It couldn’t be. There are thousands of people in the world that have that last name.”
I had a funny feeling and decided to go by the nurses’ office. I peeked in the office and saw a lady with light brown hair. I waited a couple seconds until she turned around.
It was Amy. My jaw dropped. I couldn’t believe it. Out of shock, I quickly turned the corner.

A couple of seconds later I turned back and peeked my head into the office once more.
“Amy,” I said loudly.
“Yes,” she said turning around. “Oh my god, Todd!”
She ran over to me with arms wide open. “Todd, how have you been. It’s been so long, we need to catch up!”
“Yeah, haven’t seen you since high school. But I’m doing well, thank you. How about yourself?”
“Well, I couldn’t be better. You know, you look really different. For a second I almost didn’t recognize who you were.”
“Haha, yeah, I have changed a lot since high school. But you look exactly the same.
Haven’t aged a day.”
“Oh, come on now… you’re just saying that.”
“I wouldn’t lie to you. Anyway, what are you doing in Maine?”
“Well, I always did want to live here… I just broke up with my fiancé of three years.
It was the perfect time to get away and start over.”
“Wow. I’m sorry to hear that, but what got you into nursing?”
“I just love to help people out and make them feel comfortable.”
“Yeah, you’ve always been like that.” I smiled and looked down.
“Well, what about you? Don’t tell me you’re a doctor…”

“Actually, I am.”
“No way. Get out of here!”
“Yeah, it’s crazy, right?”
“Paging Doctor Green,” I heard over the loud speaker.
“Oh, that’s me. Listen we should grab lunch and catch up. Does tomorrow sound good? How about we meet in the main rotunda around one."
“Tomorrow sounds perfect. See you then.”
I couldn’t stop smiling. I have a fiancé. Why am I smiling about another woman? Later that night at dinner, my fiancé kept starring at me.
“Why do you have such a huge grin on your face?”
“I ran into Amy Johnson today. The girl I went to high school with. I told you about her.”
“That’s great. What’s she doing in Maine?”
“She actually just started working at the same hospital as me.”
“What a coincidence.”
I could see the worry in her eyes. I tried to reassure her nothing was going to happen.
Even though in the back of my head I knew my feelings had come back for Amy. No matter how many times I told Jen that we were just old friends, she still had a pale look on her face. The rest of dinner was pretty much silent. Jen just sat at the table for an hour staring off at the walls. I had already excused myself and thanked her for dinner. I

really hoped this wasn’t going to put a strain between us. I didn’t tell Jen about lunch with Amy. Then things would really start to get distant.
I woke up this morning still smiling. Jen, on the other hand had a frown on. We didn’t really talk. I kissed her on her forehead before I left, but all she said was “Bye.”
Walking into my office, I couldn’t wait to see Amy. I was so eager to catch up with her.
We haven't talked in years, and so many things have changed. One o’clock was my lunch break and that’s when I was meeting Amy. Time goes by so slowly when you stare at the clock. It was finally one. As I approached the rotunda I saw Amy. It gave me a weird feeling. We decided to take my car to the restaurant. We were going to one of the best Italian restaurants in town for our lunch brake. It was called Valentino’s. Valentino's was just a small little place that I went to all the time. We pulled up and Amy just looked over at me. I quickly got out of the car.
“This a cute place,” Amy said as we were heading inside.
“Yeah, it’s pretty good here.”
I knew Bob, our waiter, since I came here almost once a week. Bob handed us our menus with a huge smile on his face. Bob always smiles; he's just a happy guy. I always got the lobster ravioli with a side salad.
“They have lobster ravioli here!” Amy said. “I love it!”
“You’re kidding. I get that every time I come here.”
Bob came back to the table with our drinks, still smiling.

“You guys ready to order?” Bob said.
“We sure are. We are both going to have the lobster ravioli, but I would like mine with the side salad.”
“Oh, Todd, you’re always getting the same thing. Switch it up once in a while, Bob said smiling. “How about you, Miss… would you like a side salad or soup.”
“Yes, I’ll have the special. Thank you.”
“So, Todd, aren’t you going to introduce me to your sister?”
“Actually, this is Amy, a girl I grew up with,” I said laughing.
“Oh, well, it’s a pleasure to meet you Amy.”
“You too.”
When I got home that night, Jen had dinner ready on the table. I didn't tell her about lunch with Amy because I knew it would start a fight, and I didn't want that.
"How was your day honey?"
"It was just normal day, nothing new. How was your day."
"Great but I missed you. I called you during your lunch brake, but one of the nurses told me you were out to lunch.
"Oh yeah, I just grabbed a bite to eat at Valentino's... but anyway I was thinking we should go the movies tonight."
"Okay, I'll go check the times and see what's playing."

"Sounds good, and I'll see whatever you want to babe."
Jen walked away giggling. I felt so guilty. I couldn't tell her I went to lunch with Amy now because I lied to her in the first place. I loved Jen, I really did and I didn't want to mess anything up. I thought by keeping my mouth shut about Amy, we wouldn't get into any arguments. I just couldn't tell Jen even though I felt like I was hiding something all the time.
Amy and I went to lunch almost every other day. It had been about a week since we had started this tradition, and by the end of the week I realized I had feelings for Amy. During our lunch "dates", Jen was rarely brought up. A couple of time Amy asked how Jen was, but I just answered "Great" everytime she asked. I felt horrible. I had a fiancé and I was keeping a secret from her.
Every time I saw Amy, I got butterflies in my stomach. I was a grown man, for god sakes, and I was getting butterflies in my stomach? This wasn’t good. I still had a fiancé, but I didn’t think twice about Jen. I wanted Amy and I wasn’t going to let her get away… again. I always kept my mouth shut about liking her. Should I finally tell her this time? The only problem that was holding me back was Jen. I had to come clean with Jen about what was really going with Amy
I was hardly spending anytime with Jen. The only time we talked is at dinner, and even then it was just a couple words. Tonight Jen made my favorite meal, lobster

ravioli. Although it wasn’t as good as Valentino’s, I still appreciated it. Lobster ravioli made me think about Amy. All I could think about was Amy. Staring off into space, I heard my name.
“Todd…,” Jen said.
“Yes?” I said, looking up.
“Do you love me?”
I paused for a couple seconds, not even realizing it. “Yes, yes I do. Why the sudden curiosity?”
“We haven’t been close at all since Amy came into the picture, and just now you pausing before you said yes just proved to me that you don’t. I don’t want to get married and then three months later get a divorce. Please, just save me the embarrassment and tell me now.”
“Okay Jen, I'm sorry. I can't marry you. I have feelings for Amy. I always have and always will. I’m sorry you’re the one that had to bring this up. I should have told you sooner. I'll understand if you never want to talk to me again or even resent me. Just please try and forgive me. I'll always want you as a friend, even though it's going to be hard. You can have the house. I'll find my own place in a couple days. I don’t want things to end on bad terms.”
“Oh, Todd, believe me I’ve known from the day you told me she worked at the hospital. I could see the sparkle in your eyes when you talked about her. I could never

give you that sparkle in your eyes. I just think we shouldn’t talk for a while. It’s going to take me some time to get over this.” A tear dripped down Jen’s face.
“Jen, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know this would happen. Please, don’t cry. I never meant to hurt you.”
I went downstairs the next morning to see that Jen was gone. All her clothes were gone and her car. I guess I didn’t notice anything since I slept in the guest room last night. I felt horrible. Later that day I told Amy what happened. I also told her I needed sometime for myself. I took off work for the next three days. I needed to clear my head about Jen. Was I really doing the right thing? It was almost a week since I had any sort of communication with Amy. When I returned to work on Monday, I ran into Amy in one of the offices. I had to talk to her.
"Amy, can I talk to you for a second?"
"Sure..."
"Listen, I know we haven't really been talking lately, but I would love to get dinner with you tonight if you're free."
"Okay sure, as long as we can go to Valentino's. I'm in the mood for some lobster ravioli.
"You got it. What time would you want to go?"
"Pick me at seven... I should be ready by then," Amy said smiling.
"Seven it is."

I was so excited about my date with Amy tonight, but I was nervous more than anything. I was going to tell her how I felt. I felt like I was in high school again. I knew
Jen and I just broke up, but I loved Amy. I needed to tell her that. I took Amy to
Valentino’s and we had the usual conversation. Amy didn’t mention Jen once. After dinner, I wanted to take a walk around this park. This was my chance to tell her. Should
I tell her now? Would it be too soon? Before we went to the park, I stopped in the bathroom at Valentino’s to prep myself and calm down. Walking out of the bathroom, I wasn’t paying attention. I was looking down at the ground mumbling to myself. Not noticing the waiter carrying a heavy try, I walked right into him. I fell backwards and bumped my head on the table behind me. I was covered in spaghetti and chicken parmigiana. To make things worse, I also knocked out.
I woke up in a hospital bed with Amy sitting next to me. She smiled at me, but I had no clue why I was in the hospital.
“What happened?”
“You walked right into a waiter and hit your head.”
“Wow, that’s embarrassing.” I laughed
“No, no… it wasn’t that bad.” Amy said laughing.
This seemed like the perfect moment to tell her. We were both laughing. We stared into each other’s eyes and I grabbed Amy’s hand.
“Amy… there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while. I really

don’t know how to say this, but here goes nothing… I like you. No, I love you. I always have Amy and I always wanted to tell you, but it has never been the right time to tell you.”
“I’ve been waiting for you to tell me this since high school, Todd. I mean, I have some many feelings for you. I can’t even explain the way you make me feel. You just broke up with Jen so maybe we should give this some more time. There’s really no rush. And I love you too.”
Amy and I hug and kiss. She squeezes my hand tight. I never felt this way before.
I’m so in love. I have always wanted this and now I finally have her. Until Amy came into the picture, I thought I was going to marry Jen. Even though I did love Jen, something just didn’t feel right when I was with her. I can’t even describe in words how
Amy makes me feel. I can say I love you to her without having to hesitate. I feel like
I’m dreaming, but I’m not. This is the greatest feeling in the world. I just should have opened my mouth before. I came into this situation not being able to speak my mind and walking out of it with the love of my life.

Jordan Hill
A Last Life
“As soon as your mother walked into a room, jaws dropped,” said Annie Peale, talking to her granddaughter, Katie. “She was so smart, sweetie, we used to get calls every night from students in her class for help on their homework. Kimmy loved to help others,
Katie. Perhaps that was her best quality as a person.”
“When’s she coming home?” Sarah asked her Grandmother. A tear ran down Elizabeth’s face, this time, it was a tear she didn’t wipe off. She knew she had to finally tell her granddaughter what happened. She knew she couldn’t keep this from her, and so she took a sip from a glass of water on her nightstand, sat back into her rocking chair and said,
“You will see your mother again, Katie.”
Annie and Kimberly were at breakfast on a Sunday morning right after 10 O’clock church. They went to Helen’s diner, which was a simple place where the two of them could go and discuss their lives. Helen’s was their sanctuary, everyone there knew Annie and Kim, and they knew what good people they were.
“So sweetie…who do you think you’ll take to senior prom? Annie asked.
“Mother…! It’s only November. Plus, I haven’t even started to think about who I might take.”
“What about that Mark O’Grady? He seems like such a nice boy, and he’s

hysterical! Please tell me you remember his skit he put on last year at the talent show?”
It was right there that Kimberly remembered all of the times her and Mark used to joke around in English class the past two years. He took honors classes just to mess with the teachers, but he also kept Kimberly relaxed at the same time. He was the kind of kid everyone loved to be around, and you couldn’t help but smile when you saw him.
Kimberly knew in the back of her mind that this was the kind of kid that she would want to take to her senior prom. She knew she was beautiful, but wasn’t full of herself. She knew all of the boys in her grade would be lining up to take her just for her looks, but
Kimberly wanted more than that, she wanted a person that would respect her for who she was and who she strived to be. Kimberly got back from her daydream about her life and decided to answer her mom, “Umm…we’ll see. It is only November, and I’m in no rush.
“Trust me sweetie, it’ll creep up on you faster than you know it.” Annie said with a smile, knowing that she got her daughter on the path to finding a senior prom date. “So what do you got going for the rest of the day?” Annie asked, but she knew that her daughter was likely to go home, read, and play with the dogs.
“I think I’m just going to take it easy today, I’ll read and maybe take Gus and
Brutus to the park.”
“Gus and Brutus were our two labs and they were Kimberly’s favorite. Everyday after school she would go outside and throw tennis balls to them for hours. She would take them to this dog park frequently and let the dogs go swimming and run for hours.

The dogs used to come home with mud all over them, and they smelled atrocious! You know the smell of wet dog?” Annie asked Katie, rhetorically, “well let me tell you, it was awful. But it wasn’t a big deal. I knew that Kimmie enjoyed her time with the dogs more than anything in the world, and I didn’t want to ruin that. Don’t you agree, sweetie?”
Katie was sitting in the chair opposite from her grandmother and had been starring at her the whole time. She paused for a little and answered hesitantly, “umm…yeah grandma!
That sounds right. Please, tell me more about what happened with the boy!”
“We’ll get to that, be patient, pumpkin.” Annie said, with a smile.
Annie was sitting in her living room waiting for her daughter to get dressed and ready for her award ceremony that night.
“Annie, you almost ready? We got to go, pumpkin.”
“Coming!” Annie was just about to leave her room, she was happy with her overall appearance and she was ready to own the night. Right before she took her last step out the door, she took one more look in the mirror and gave herself a nod. She looked stunning. When she came down the steps she was glowing. A tear started to run down her mother’s eye, the sight of seeing how beautiful her daughter was got to her.
Tonight was the night that Kimberly would be recognized for her academic and athletic achievements at her high school. Kimberly and her mother were all set, as they walked out the front door they noticed how nice it was this late in November. On the car ride over, Annie popped in her Van Morrison CD and the two of them sang, “Brown Eyed
Girl” and “Moondance” until their voices went hoarse. They arrived ten minutes early,

which was typical for Annie and her daughter.
The night was over, Annie and Kimberly were sitting at the kitchen table discussing the night.
"I'm so proud of you, sweetie...I can't believe you are going to Columbia next fall." A tear started to run down Annie's face, and her whole face started to get red. "I'm going to miss you Kimmy!" Annie was now crying hysterically. She knew that her daughter was her best friend and that she was going to miss her more than anything. Who would she talk to late at night? Who would she go to when the trauma of her husband started to creep back into her head? She knew that it was inevitable, but nothing ever prepares you for it. "I just wish your father could see you, pumpkin. He would have been so proud. Seeing how beautiful you are, and how smart you've become. He always used to tell me that you were going to be an Ivy league knock out, and he was right." The tears were falling down Annie's eye's like the rapids of Niagara Falls. Kimberly went over to her mother and couldn't help but tear up. She gave her comfort, putting her arm around her and said, "It's okay, Mom. I'm just glad I got to spend the evening with you. Your all
I'll ever need."
The two of them sat in the kitchen for another hour, talking and reminiscing on their loving relationship. No more tears were spilt that night. And in the morning they went to church and out to breakfast, and the two of them loved every minute of it.
"Kimmy! Holly's here!" Annie shouted to her daughter, when Holly, Kim's best friend ever since Kindergarted, came over one afternoon in December. "You want to

come into the kitchen, Hol? Annie asked, knowing that that's where they were going anyway.
"Sure Mrs. Peale! That sounds delightful." Holly said to Mrs. Peale. They laughed there way into the kitchen where Kimberly met them near after. She came from upstairs and was dripping wet after just getting out of the shower. After the two girls shared some kind words, mostly inside-jokes, Mrs. Peale broke the ice by asking,
"So what's new, Hol?
“Oh nothing… same old stuff. There hasn’t been too much exiting going on in my life.” Holly said with no enthusiasm
“Basketball is starting up soon, right? Aren’t you exited for that?
“I actually don’t think I’m going to play this year.” Holly replied
Why not? It’s your senior year! And you’ve been playing since you were in diapers.” Annie replied with a little bit of sass.
“I don’t know Mrs. Peale. I guess it’s just not fun anymore.” Holly was feeling uncomfortable. She knew Mrs. Peale knew something was up but didn’t want to get into it, so she panicked. “Kim let’s go to your room!”
“Sure Hol.” Kim replied. Kimmy didn’t really think too much of it so she lead the way up to her bedroom, but Mrs. Peale knew something was up. She knew that Kim and Annie were upstairs talking about something that wasn’t good. She

was always protective of her daughter but this time she let everything go, she trusted her daughter and knew she could make the right decisions.
Meanwhile back upstairs in Kim’s room Holly and Kim were chatting away. Holly flat out broke the ice and said, “Listen Kim if I tell you something do you promise to keep it to yourself.” Kim looked at her best friend and said, “Yeah of course. You can trust me,
Hol”
“Ok, well I recently started experimenting with drugs and I got to tell you I’m pretty convinced.” Holly said with a smirk.
“What are you talking about? And when did this happen?” Kimberly said confused.
“Well, I was at Trina Smith’s party a couple months ago, and some girl, who I didn’t even know offered me a few pills. I took them and I felt this rush, something that
I’ve never felt before in my life. Than the weekend after that, after Rick Cooper’s birthday party, I met up with the same group of kids from the previous weekend and decided to do some cocaine. Let me tell you Kim, it was the biggest rush of my life! I was seeing stars and I didn’t even care. It was ama…” Just as Holly was about to finish there was a knock and the door, “Kimberly!” It was Mrs. Peale, “Kimberly, you have a telephone call.” As Kimberly was about to leave her bedroom to get the phone, Holly stopped her and said, “Anytime you want to Kim, you can.” Kimberly took the phone from her mother, and with a nice, gentle, inviting voice she said, “Hello?”

*
Meanwhile Annie and Katie were still at Annie’s house, “I could tell by her symptoms that she had been trying those nasty things. She was just like Nathan in that respect.”
Katie looked at her grandmother like she had three heads, she asked, “whose Nathan?”
Right then and there Annie began to think back about her long lost husband.

Amber Jones
Day 84
Living large was what people always seemed to think of him. Being a tall, goodlooking guy with a nice tan, brown hair, and baby blue eyes, the description seemed to fit him perfectly. Carl was always out to expensive dinners, paying for everyone, driving in his fancy cars, with his wife and two kids, and buying everything anyone had ever wanted. Whether it was buying his teenage son a new car for his sixteenth birthday or his college-bound daughter a new flat screen TV for her dorm room, if you were in Carl’s life, he made sure you had everything. He could still hear Larry, his old best friend from college, saying, “Living large, aren’t ya, big C?” He began to frown at the thought of all that he used to have. He shook his head trying not to harp on the past and to accept the way things now were. After all, he did this to himself. This was the life he had chosen.
Shivering from the cold ground, he pulled his only blanket he owned over top of him to protect himself from the brisk night air. With the black sky above him dotted with white stars, he found himself in Oceanside, California. Everyone always loved “Sunny
Cali,” but they loved it for different reasons. They loved it because they all had money, and of course, for the weather, the scenery, the huge houses, and for all of the good looking people. But when you’re homeless, you loved California for two main reasons: one, the weather, and two, the rich people that would hopefully give you money so you could make it through the next day. Money was something he didn’t have. Carl learned from his past to save his money because he didn’t know when he would eat next. He rolled over in the sand and closed his eyes, with the hope that tomorrow would be a better day.
During the night he dreamt of his past. He kept having this recurring nightmare,

back when he was sixteen years old. At that age, never did he think he would be in the position that he was in now. Although his father was abusive and his mother was an alcoholic, he thought he would have been able to learn from them both.
Carl began to scream for his mother who was passed out on the bathroom floor as he was cornered in his bedroom. "Damn it," he thought to himself. "It’s past wine time."
Defenseless. As his father approached him with that crazy look in his eye, he knew something bad was about to happen. Just before all of the bruises that he had received from his father, he would always see the rage in his eyes. Last time Carl forgot to take out the trash, and this time, he simply didn’t bring his bike in from the front yard. With a punch to the shoulder and a kick to the shin, Carl dropped to the ground and tears began to fall off his face. He wasn’t crying because of physical pain, but because of the emotional pain. He hated his father for being abusive and even his mother because she wasn’t there to help him. If anything, she was helping his father abuse him.
"Get up! Be a man!" his father shouted.
Not knowing what else to do, he got up and ran out of the front door of his father’s huge mansion. When a guy had a nice house and a good looking wife, no one ever expected anything bad to be happening in the household, but they couldn't see what was going on behind closed doors. With his father screaming behind him to get back in the house, he kept running and never returned. Nor did he ever see his parents again.
Who knew if they were even still alive? Being in sports all of his life, he knew always just to keep running, and that’s exactly what he did. He ran right out of New Jersey into
Pennsylvania until he reached the big city of Philadelphia. Philadelphia was where he started his new life and got a job to be able to pay for college when he was of age to go.

When he turned eighteen, he decided to travel to the west coast for a change of lifestyle.
Out there is where he attended a small four year college. Since he was an amazing athlete, he was able to get a small scholarship, which helped a lot. The noise and the lights that occurred in his dream while he was asleep soon woke him up and he was back to reality, with the sun-rays beating against his face.
Another day, he thought. Not knowing how to start off the day, he reached into his backpack and pulled out a notebook and pen, just as he always did. Carl kept a daily journal to pass the time.
He wrote:
"Day 82- I was woken up by the sun beating against my face. The weather is nice out today, same as the past week, sunny with a light breeze. I had the same dream last night for the 4th night in a row. It almost makes me not want to go to sleep at night. But I will not give in. My father has taken too much from me in my life, and I will not let him take anymore. It has been 82 long days since I have seen my kids, Jennifer and Will, and
Debby, my now ex-wife. I am still in love with her. I wish I could have controlled my habit ."
As he closed his book and put it into his bag, he noticed a family walking down the beach. The two kids had bleached blond hair and were running ahead of the parents with a golden retriever chasing behind them. The husband and wife were trailing slowly behind them, holding hands, as they enjoyed their life together. Feeling jealous and resentful, thinking that’s what he used to have, he noticed that the dog suddenly came to a halt and looked at Carl. He began to sprint over to Carl, as he rose to get to his feet. He saw the kids chasing after their dog as he leaned over to pet the dog’s head.

"What’s his name?" he asked the kids.
"His name is Chase and we are the Bakers. I am Johnny and this is Claire," the little boy said, trying to catch his breath.
"That’s a cool name; my name is Carl. Nice to meet you guys. How'd you come up with that name for him?"
The older brother stepped up to answer, "Well, he is always chasing us, and our dad is originally from Philadelphia, so we are all major Phillies fans. Chase Utley is their second baseman, so the name fits."
Carl began to nod his head in agreement, as he saw the concerned look that came across their mother’s face. He saw her turn to her husband and she said something, making sure she didn’t take her eyes off Carl. With that, the husband began a light jog over to them.
"Chase! What are you doing over here, buddy? Come on, kids. We gotta get some breakfast before you guys head off to school."
"Awww.. Do we have to go today?" the little girl said.
"Yes, but its Friday, so you won’t have to go tomorrow. Come on, we are going to be late." He turned to Carl. "Thanks for catching the dog and the kids. They love to run off sometimes."
"No problem," he said with a smile.
As the four of them turned to walk away, he heard Johnny ask his dad if Carl could join them for breakfast. He responded, a short little "Not today, maybe tomorrow."
Carl didn’t expect him to say yes, but he had hope.
Carl liked Oceanside, but he liked Sausalito better. That was where he met Debby.

He would never forget. He was twenty-eight years old and she was just turning nineteen.
He wasn’t very fond of the age difference, but that was one lesson of many that she had taught him: age was just a number. She was working at a local ice cream shop, trying to earn her way through college. Of course, it was hot out since it was mid August, and
Larry and Carl had just got done their twenty-mile bike ride. Needing to cool off, they entered the ice cream shop. Carl’s eyes met Debby’s and they both knew they were meant for each other. At first, it was just casual. Both Larry and Carl ordered their ice cream.
They took it and left, saying thank you. But as Carl turned to look at her before he walked out the door, she was watching him leave and she smiled at him. That night he went back and asked for her number. They dated for three years and got married. Her whole family was there, and since Carl didn’t have family, hers became his. After being married for twelve years, he developed a habit that he regretted very much. It destroyed his family, his career, his life.
Just as he was crossing the street to sit on the sidewalk, he heard the sound of car brakes, a loud honk, and the driver yelling, “Get out of the road, you bum!” Snapping back into reality and surprised at how distracted he was, he hurried out of the angered driver’s way, paying no attention as to what she had called him.
The sound of the horn reminded him of something. Something he didn’t want to remember, but he couldn’t help it. It took him back to sitting at the round, green topped table with a stack of poker chips in front of him. He was in the lead by a landslide, and he felt as if he was unstoppable. It was him and one other guy left in the tournament. This was the make it or break it hand. If he won, he would win it all. If he lost, he would lose everything, money and his family. His wife had already walked out on him, but if he

won, he thought she might come back to him, or at least he hoped she would. He placed his cards down as the other guy did also. Sirens and horns went off for a celebration, and he jumped up, throwing his arms in the air with joy, thinking he won, only to see the dealer pointing to the other guy to declare that Carl was defeated. Soon, he remembered what his wife had said to him before she walked out. Sooner or later, a day is going to come when you aren’t going to be so lucky. “I guess it was sooner than I thought,” he said out loud. It was the fight of all fights that they had had that night. Watching her walk out the door was one of the hardest things for him to watch. But he wasn’t strong enough to stop her, because he wasn’t strong enough to break his habit. At times like these he reminded himself of his parents. “I wish I was stronger,” he whispered.
The days in Carl’s life were all similar. He would wake up on the beach, write in his journal, walk over to the sidewalk, and hopefully, someone would give him spare change. He knew a lot of other homeless people who made signs and begged for money, but he would not beg. He had never begged for money, and he didn’t plan on starting then. The only thing that was different about day 82 was meeting the Bakers. They were nice kids, he thought; I wish we could have talked longer. Most people didn’t talk to Carl because of his appearance and the situation that he was in. He enjoyed talking to them and he knew they weren’t judging him like their mother seemed to be doing. Hoping to see the kids again, he made his way back over to the beach. On his way over, he found a five-dollar bill crinkled in the middle of the street. Things are starting to get better, he thought. He pressed it smooth, folded it twice neatly, and pushed it deep down into his pocket, knowing he wasn’t going to spend it until he really needed to. Questioning himself, like he always seemed to do those days, why am I able to control my money

now, and I wasn’t able to before?
Tonight as he slept, he dreamt of his finding a dog on the beach and it appeared to be Chase. He and Chase roamed the streets together and eventually they ended up at his old house. They walked inside and the house looked exactly like he remembered it: a huge foyer with tall ceilings, hardwood floors all throughout, his prized possession 72inch flat screen TV hanging up on the wall, and pictures still scattered throughout the house of him and his family. In the pictures, he appeared to be so happy. Everything was exactly how it used to be. The only thing that was different was the way he was feeling.
For some reason, he was extremely sad. He thought he would be happy to have his old life back, but once he was there, he realized that he didn’t want to live in his house without his family.
Suddenly, he shot up from his sound sleep and he heard a dog barking off in the distance. As he shook his head knowing he was just hearing things, he reached into his bag for his journal and began to write his thoughts.
Relaxing on the beach before he started his daily routine of walking to the sidewalk, he closed his eyes to reflect on his dream that he had last night. As he was in mid-thought, he had a feeling someone was watching him and he was forced to open his eyes. To his surprise, he saw Chase sitting at his feet. He rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn’t still dreaming, and when he re-opened them, he came to the conclusion that Chase was actually sitting in front of him.
“Hey, buddy! What are you doing here?” Carl said as he looked around for the dog’s family. Nowhere in sight. He petted Chase on the head and looked on his collar for

a dog tag to see where he lived. “185 Chinquapin Dr., hmm… That’s a funny name for a street. It’s also very far for you to come all the way down here on your own. We gotta get you home; your family is probably worried sick!” As he rose to his feet to return the dog back home, he noticed Chase looked very worn out.
“Maybe you’re hungry? Come on. I don’t have much money, but we can share something,” he said to the dog. Twenty minutes later, they found themselves sitting at In-
N-Out. Carl ordered a burger for himself, and fries for them to share. By the time Carl went to reach for the fries, they were gone and he was stuck watching Chase lick his lips.
When he finished his burger, they were back on the road. By the time they made it to the Baker’s house, it was around 5:00p.m. He knew they would be eating dinner by now, but he wanted to return Chase because he knew how much the kids loved him.
Chase took off and dashed up the steps to the front porch, barking loudly. Carl didn’t even make it to the top before the front door swung open and Claire yelled, “CHASE!”
Soon, the whole family was out on the porch, hugging the once lost dog.
“Thank you for bringing him back,” said the father. “You have no idea what the kids were like last night when he didn’t come home.”
“I know how much he means to you, so I brought him home right away,” Carl replied.
“Can we give you anything? Money? A place to stay for the night?” the mother asked.
Shocked at what he just heard coming from her, he responded by saying ,“No, thank you, I’ve gotta get going before it gets any darker. I don’t want to intrude.”
“Can he stay for dinner, Dad? It’s tomorrow, like you said,” Johnny asked.

“Yeah, Dad, can he?” Claire mimicked.
“Would you like to stay for dinner? It would mean a lot to the kids,” the father said.
Hesitant, he accepted the offer, and as he entered their house, he thought it seemed a lot like his dream last night.
Inside the house, he was a little uncomfortable. He was in a place that he had never been, with people he barely knew. Looking around, he noticed the small things that meant a lot to the family, such as arts and crafts hanging on the refrigerator that the kids had made at school through the years, and all the school pictures of the kids starting from pre-kindergarten until the present school year on the mantel above the fireplace.
“Make yourself comfortable” the mother said politely.
“May I use your bathroom?” he asked.
“Yes, it’s upstairs, down the hall on your left,” she replied, “and dinner will be in ten minutes.”
As he walked up the stairs, he had a flashback of the last time he was in his house.
It made him upset with the thought of this not being a permanent arrangement. When he returned back downstairs, the Bakers were all sitting around the table with their food on their plates, waiting for him to take his seat. He saw an empty seat waiting for him at the head of the table on the opposite side of the father, and he suddenly felt as if it was a privilege to be there.
He took his seat and said, “It means so much to me that I am here with you all. I forget the last time I had a home cooked meal. Everything looks delicious.”
“Oh, it is our pleasure. But I don’t believe we have formally met. My name is

Patty, and this is Cliff,” she said, pointing to her husband, “and I believe the kids said your name is Carl?”
“Yes, my name is Carl, and it is very nice to meet all of you.”
As he looked down at his plate with food piled on top, he almost didn’t want to eat it because he was afraid he was going to get used to being treated like this. But who knows when my next meal might be, and they did put the food in front of me. It would be rude not to eat, he thought to himself right before he picked up his fork.
“Are you homeless?” Claire asked.
Laughing at how innocent she was in asking that question, he smiled and said,
“Yes, I am.”
“Claire, that wasn’t polite.” Patty said across the table.
“No, it’s okay. I don’t mind. Would you like to hear how I ended up this way?”
“Only if you would like to tell us” Patty replied.
Carl began his story. He thought it would be tough telling complete strangers why he was homeless, but he could tell they really wanted to know and that he was the only person to tell it. He started off by saying how he had had a wife and two kids. He and his wife were married for twelve years, but then divorced when he wouldn’t listen to her. He told them how he loved to gamble and how he loved the major rush he would get before each tournament. He went on to say how he quit his job as an engineer and decided to make poker his career.
“At first, it was just a hobby,” he said, “and then it became my life. About three months ago, I had this huge tournament. My wife said if I went, she was leaving me. Not taking her seriously like I should have, I left. That was my mistake and I regret it every

day. When I got home after losing all of my money, I also came home to an empty house.
When she left she broke my heart; and when she broke my heart, she broke my habit. I haven’t picked up a poker chip since that night and I never will again.” The family sat in silence, not knowing what else to say.
“You’re welcome to stay with us if you’d like. We have a spare bedroom upstairs.” Patty spoke up and broke the silence.
Carl sat and stared into Patty’s eyes. He now knew that she somewhat trusted him and that she also knew that he didn’t have any mental issues.
“No, no, I have already intruded enough; I wouldn’t be able to do that,” Carl said.
“Really, it’s no trouble at all,” Cliff chimed in. “The kids like you, we like you, and even Chase likes you!” Everyone began to laugh.
“I will put clean sheets on the bed after dinner,” Patty said so he couldn’t get out of it.
“Okay, I accept the offer. I appreciate it. But don’t worry, I won’t stay long.”
“It’s no trouble. Stay as long as you need.”
As Carl finished his dinner, he didn’t know what to think. He was so happy that he wouldn’t be sleeping outside for the first time in almost three months. He sat back in his chair and just watched how the family interacted with each other. It reminded him of the way he and his own family used to be. He listened to the way Cliff talked to his son, and he wished two things. One would be that he still had that kind of relationship with
Will. The second wish would be that he had that relationship with his father when he was younger.
Dinner was soon over, and Carl found himself in the spare bedroom, lying in a

freshly made bed staring at the white ceiling above. He lay there until 4 a.m., unable to get a second of sleep. Maybe he was meant to sleep outside? He got up, put on his brown jacket that Patty washed for him and his worn-out looking sneakers. As he crept down the stairs quietly, trying not to wake anyone, he saw Chase lying on his bed in the laundry room. “Hey, buddy,” he whispered as he bent down to pet him, “thanks for everything.”
He entered the kitchen, not to take food, but to leave a note. After all, it’s the least he could do for all they did for him.
He wrote:
Dear Cliff, Patty, Johnny, and Claire, (and of course Chase),
Thank you for taking me in tonight. It really means a lot to me that there are people out there in the world kind enough to let a complete stranger into their home and treat them like family. Thanks for everything. I really appreciate it. See ya around,
Carl
Carefully, he opened and closed the door. Once he was four blocks away from
185 Chinquapin Dr., he sat down on the curb and pulled out his journal.
He wrote:
“ Day 84- I laid in a bed for the first time in 83 nights. It felt great. The Bakers are amazing people. The weather this morning is a little chilly out. It’s a good thing Patty was so kind in washing my jacket last night. The last 84 days have all been the same except for yesterday and today. Yesterday, I was given a second chance by complete strangers. Today, I am taking that chance to start my life over. In doing that, I am going

to get a job, a real job. After all, I put myself in the situation that I am in today. I did this to myself. Only I have control over my own life. Starting today, I am choosing a new path.”

Matt Jones
5-06-2010
Lang arts
June 5, 2010
Dear diary,
I’m hot, I’m bored, and I really don’t feel like weighing in you right now, yet for some reason I am. The weekend is just about to end and I spent today doing the least amount of homework possible, so I could back to playing games and watching TV. The thing with school is there’s always a way to manage your work so you don’t have to do it at home anymore. Like in one of my classes that use a textbook, I already know how simple it will be to read the paragraphs and answer the questions so I put it off until lunch and do it then. Then there are other classes where you know the teacher won’t be that observant and you can just half bake the answers and he will give you an easy 5 points.
Sometimes I even prioritize between certain teachers, if I’m short on time and can only get one assignment done. Do I like that teacher more. Who is more forgiving? What’s worth more? I guess what I’m trying to get at is that I feel that all students work out some sort of system for school that allows them to get by with doing the least amount of work; in all honesty, I think the teachers are aware of this too but just don’t say anything.
June 7, 2010
Dear diary,

I was having conversation today with one of my teachers about how much work my generation does compared to theirs. In fact I sometimes wonder how much different our generations are from each other, period. One thing that often strikes me is all those stupid cartoons on TV that are supposed to depict teenage life. I’m watching them and I constantly wondering where these things are actually happening. Maybe I’m not just social but part of me wonders if kids these days actually go outside as much as is depicted in these TV shows. Sometimes I think that all these shows are based off what life was like in the previous generation. I mean, honestly, who in life have you met that’s had such am interesting social life.
June 10, 2010
Dear diary,
I’ve been in an angry ranting mood lately. I wonder why that is. In all honesty, it is probably just because it’s more fun to Wright angry ratings in my diary. In fact, honestly, I don’t even think the point of a diary is to record what you do every day; it’s to
Wright down your feelings and emotions in words so you can express them and release the underlying tension that you would normally keep bottled up. You know, one of the reasons I started this diary is to track my own mental development. Recently I’ve been thinking about things a lot more and have been taking things more seriously. In fact, I’ve from time to time started thinking about awkward circumstances and how best to approach them or what things other people know that I don’t, but feel I should, and what information is important compared to others. It’s all rather confusing, really. In particular,
I sometimes feel like I see the world through rose tinted glasses, like even if I try

rationalizing certain things there are others that I can’t even comprehend or imagine because the glasses are in the way. My hope is that when I go to college, living alone and being in the” real world” will gradually lift these glasses and allow me to see the world in a clearer light.
June 11, 2010
One of my dreams has always been to travel around the world. I’ve always wanted to explore and discover new things in life. One of my most desired places to explore has always been some sort of exotic forest somewhere with beautiful waterfalls and landscapes or something. I all honestly I’ve been becoming increasingly sick of being cooped up all the time. I just can’t stand it anymore, I feel as if life is passing me by and
I’m missing out on important emotional ad mental development. Beside that I’m just curios, I want to explore and discover things in the world, to go to new places and speak with interesting people. I want to learn how humans interact with each other and discover the secretes to how they think and feel. I want to discover the mysteries of life itself.
June 12, 2010
It’s occurring to me that I can never seem to write about my day any time I write in this thing. Not that I do much of anything different when I get home. It’s always sit around till 4:00 go upstairs to watch TV till 5:00,then homework till 6:00 or whatever time I finish it at. Surf the net until 7:00, then either watch more TV until 9,shower, read, then bed. It rarely ever changes. When I go to college, that’s going to one of the first things

I’m going to change. Every day I want to dedicate a portion of my day to going to 1 new place. I’m hoping by doing this I can slowly broaden my horizons by doing this.
June 13, 2010
Dear diary,
Is there a reason why people use such difficult phrases and words while writing?
I’m not mocking it, but it seems to me that writing a book in more complicated fashion can make it harder for people to focus on what’s happening. It’s not like I descriptive phrases, but I feel that an author should make his writing easily accessible to everybody who reads it. I guess what I’m trying to get at is if there is, a simple more common way to express an idea or an event; the author should go with the simple way. Oh, screw it. I don’t know what I’m trying to think.
June 15, 2010
Dear diary,
Today all the students got banned from using the computers again. In all honesty,
I think everybody saw it coming, as we were steadily building up to this moment all year.
Nobody does any actual work on those things. They just surf the net and watch videos the entire class periods and ignore everything the teacher is saying (not that anybody would pay attention even without them). It a common fact that everybody knows but just doesn’t discuss. The kids know it; the teachers know it; everybody knows it. The only

reason why they haven’t been banned by now is because our teacher is so nice. It makes me so angry.
Dear diary,
June 17, 2010
It’s amazing how you can feel about something one moment and how you can think of it the next. When I was writing all those other entries, I was so into it and serious, but looking back at it now, I at this exact moment don’t care about any of the other things I just wrote about. At this exact moment I find it to be completely meaningless to me. It’s kind of funny. How drastically my mood affected my decisions and thoughts. Being angry and depressed makes me feel and causes me to start rambling and complaining about anything I could. But on another day I can suddenly feel better and be really optimistic.
Dear diary
June 18, 2010
I’ve been so sick of just sitting around and doing nothing that I decide to actually take a step in understand the world. Today I signed up for a physiology course to take at my collage. My hope is that by completing it I might not only be able to understand other people more, but also to understand how my own mind works on an emotional level. I guess my quest to understand the world starts here.

Beth Lacock
Life Unexpected
It has been a rough fall; money has been tight, and Jerry and I have been bickering non-stop about the most pointless things. It didn’t used to be this way. I have known Jerry for three years. We met during our senior year of college, and after graduation we just stayed close. Considering we were just good friends, I was completely surprised when Jerry asked me out. I didn’t see him as anything more than a friend, but I figured I owed it to both of us to see if a deeper relationship would work out. For all the time I have known him, we have rarely ever argued. We moved in together a year and a half ago. Everything was going really well until this year. Things between us have become much more tense and a lot less fun; we haven’t been ourselves. The two of us used to go out all the time. We did not worry about spending money because we didn’t have to. This past May, Jerry lost his job. Although he picked up a part-time job as a security guard, it has been my responsibility to pay for the majority of our rent on top of the other bills. Money has been tight. We can’t afford to go out every weekend as we used to; I miss the old times when none of this financial stress affected our lives. In the past week or so I haven’t been feeling well, and I have been much moodier than usual.
Of course, this doesn’t help anything at home.
*

When I arrived at work on Tuesday morning, I threw up in the bathroom, but I refused to believe what was right before my eyes. I talked to my work buddy in the next cubicle. Nancy just had her second child last November, an adorable baby boy.
“Jill, you can’t ignore this. I’ll go to the pharmacy with you on our lunch break, and we’ll pick up a pregnancy test.”
Nancy and I picked up the test from the pharmacy down the road, and I spent the rest of the day dreading the result. When I got home, I found myself avoiding the inevitable; that package was staring at me from across the room for at least an hour.
Finally, I got up from the couch and folded the blanket I had on my lap. I gave myself another moment and took a deep breath. As I stood up, knowing what I was about to find out, I wished I could go back in time and change a few things. Finally, I found myself walking down the hall and into the bathroom with the CVS bag in hand.
I took the stick out of the First Response box and read the basic instructions. The timer went off more quickly than I expected, and I closed my eyes tightly before looking down. Just as I had expected, a tiny pink plus sign appeared. Even though I knew this was coming, now it was real; a rush of panic came over me. How would I tell Jerry?
Worse yet, how would I tell my parents this news without their freaking out? Why do things always pop up at the most inopportune times? For this news, the timing was all wrong. I had always wanted children, but not out of wedlock. My parents are very set in their ways; I knew they would not approve of a child in the picture without a wedding ring on my finger.

Things were already on edge with Jerry; neither of us was a happy-go-lucky person. This news was just going to throw another monkey wrench into our relationship, but I had to come up with a way to break the ice and tell him.
Jerry came home from his part-time position around 7:00 p.m. This job gave him a way to contribute a little to our rent and was a way for him to try and pay off some of his other bills a little at a time while he was between jobs. I knew that the loss of his fulltime position and his having to work odd hours at the local college campus were hard for him, but at least he was keeping himself busy and doing something more than collecting unemployment.
When he came in, I could see the defeated look on his face; I could feel the stress radiating from him. He didn’t have to say a word, yet I knew how he was feeling. I guess that’s what happens when you know someone for so long. I didn’t want to add to his worry, but I knew I had to tell him the news. It was hard to determine how he would react to it. The two of us had never discussed having kids; we didn’t even have plans to get married. I think he could sense that there was something off with me as well.
Our routine had changed with his new position; we no longer had time to sit down to dinner and talk with each other after work; instead, we ate dinner alone when we got around to it. I decided that the best way to tell him would be over a nice meal, so I made his favorite, chicken parmesan. As the two words slipped out of my mouth at the dinner table, I could see the uncertainty in Jerry’s eyes, and I began to cry.
“I don’t know what to say,” he said. “What do we do?”

I could no longer hold my emotions in. “Well, I’m going to have the baby, if that is what you are asking,” I blurted out from my tear-streaked face.
Surprisingly, Jerry was at a loss for words to answer me. I guess he had too many things running through his head. Maybe if his job situation were more secure, he would have been more reassuring. This news really put a strain on our conversation for the night. He just told me we would work things out. Somehow I was not comforted.
I knew this was not the way things were supposed to happen, but things never go the way they are supposed to. This pregnancy was not planned; I guess I managed to fall into the small percentage of cases where birth control is not 100% foolproof in preventing pregnancies. Regardless, I would just have to deal with reality. I found myself lying awake the next few nights, trying to come up with a plan to break the news to my parents.
This was going to be a much harder task than telling Jerry had been, and I knew they would not take it very well; I dreaded the task.
*
Jerry has been very supportive this past week. He went to the doctor with me, and since I am ten weeks pregnant, I think he realizes why I have been so moody lately. I don’t think he knew how to react to our news at first; he was too worried about money.
Now that the reality that we are having a baby has set in, he is adjusting to the idea. He has traded hours with some of the other security guards so that he can be home a little earlier. As much as he tries to hide it, to keep me from worrying, I can tell he is really scared of becoming a father. It makes it all the more complicated that we don’t know

when he’ll have a full-time job. He has been on several interviews; I hope one of these positions will be offered to him.
With my emotions on a total roller coaster, Jerry never knows my mood when he is around me. I go from happy to upset at the drop of a hat. Yesterday Jerry came home later than usual from work, and I found myself accusing him of cheating on me. It was not until later that night that I realized my accusation was ridiculous and apologized to him. He would never cheat on me. I am not usually an emotional individual, but these mood swings are making me crazy. phone.
My mom called me today while I was at work and left a message on my cell
“Jillian, I have not heard from you in almost a week. Have you forgotten about your family altogether? I’ll forgive you if you call me back when you’re done work. I want to have a girls’ day this weekend. Is your schedule clear?”
She is right; I have been avoiding her, but I miss her terribly. I just know I can’t spend time with her without telling her what is going on. Jerry and I still haven’t decided how to break the news to our parents. His family is much more accepting of his mistakes, so he doesn’t have to worry as much as I do. My family, on the other hand, will put a guilt trip on me; I will have a lot of explaining to do. I slipped into the bathroom at work and called Jerry. He didn’t answer his phone, so I texted him: “When you get home tonight, we need to talk. Mom wants to get together with me this weekend.”

*
Jerry’s and my conversation that night was short and sweet. We decided that our parents would take this news better if we were at least engaged. Two nights later, Jerry proposed. His family was so excited for us; they had been waiting for this for a while.
My family put on a happy face, but I felt as if they were faking actual happiness. I could tell they were not really thrilled. They never thought Jerry was good enough for me; for some reason he always struggled conversing with them, so I guess they had their reasons.
Jerry did not come from a close-knit family like ours, and my parents didn’t approve of the manner in which his family lived. I knew my parents would need time to let the idea of a wedding sink in, so Jerry and I had decided to drop the pregnancy bomb at another time. I actually felt guilty holding the news back.
My dad’s birthday fell in the first weekend in December. Because he was turning sixty, my mom threw him a big party. Following tradition, I wrote him a birthday card, as I do each year. I decided to add a little twist to the card. The bottom read, “Love you always, Daddy’s little girl P.S. You’re going to be a grandfather.” He didn’t open his presents until after we socialized for a few hours and had cake. I had asked him to open my present last. I was anxious to see how he would react. After seeing his reaction, I realized this might not have been the best idea. His face went blank, so I had to do something to let everyone know our news. I went and grabbed Jerry, and as we announced my pregnancy to the rest of our family and friends, we received mixed reactions. I had hoped everyone could just be happy for us. My mom, who was standing beside my father, reading the card over his shoulder, pulled me aside.

“Is this why you have been avoiding me?”
“No, Mom, we just found out a few weeks ago, and we wanted to break the news to everyone all at once. Aren’t you happy? You’re going to be a grandmother!”
“Well, to be completely honest, I see this in two lights. On the one hand, I can’t wait to be a grandmother. That little child will be spoiled rotten. Unfortunately, I have to question Jerry’s motive behind proposing. Is he marrying you because he loves you, or is he marrying you because you are carrying his child? Are you certain about his motive?
Are you even certain about what you are doing? You have never even talked about marrying him.”
“Listen, Mom, I am well aware of the fact that you, Dad, and the rest of the family don’t feel Jerry is right for me. I know he isn’t the best socialite, but he does love me. Just because he wasn’t raised in a strict Catholic family does not make him a bad person; he still has morals, and he would not propose just because I’m pregnant.
Regardless of what you may believe, he does love me, and now that we are starting a family, I truly hope you all can get over your grudges and accept him.”
“Oh, Jillian, it is not just the religious factor. Look at the people who raised him.
Do you really want your kids to grow up with trailer-park grandparents? His family is just so different from ours. You know he was not faithful to girlfriends in the past; what makes you believe he will be faithful to you? Once a cheater, always a cheater.”
“Mom, Jerry has never cheated on me, not even once. He loves me. I don’t understand why you can’t accept that.”

“I just don’t trust him; I’m sorry. In my opinion, he has not yet proved himself worthy of your love.”
“Mom, you’re my best friend. I want you to accept the man I plan to marry. Can you give him a chance?”
“You know I hold grudges, Jillian. It is hard to forget how he treated some of his previous girl friends. I’m not sure whether he is trustworthy, and I don’t want you to be hurt. Don’t jump into marriage just because you are pregnant.”
“I can’t believe you feel that way. I’ve got to go. Please excuse me.”
She had tried to make everyone get along; it had just never worked out. Lost in thought and confused, she tried to avoid everyone and went upstairs to the bathroom. As she sat on the toilet and cried, she thought she could hear someone in her old bedroom that connected to the bathroom. She stopped crying and knocked on the door.
“Is anyone in there?” There was silence, an awkward silence. Knock, knock, knock, nothing. She twisted the door knob slowly. As the door swung open, her mother’s neighbor, Dianne, gasped. Jillian didn’t wait for an explanation. She ran down the stairs straight into the study where her mother and she had talked. Her mother, to her relief, was still lingering there.
“What is it, Jill?”
“You were right; Jerry is a cheater!” As Jill cried in her mother’s arms, her mother rubbed her back and tried to comfort her.

“How could I have been so stupid? I have been giving Jerry excuses for his change in attitude. I thought it was because he lost his job that things were different between us. Money has been tight. I knew the baby wasn’t well-timed, but it is still exciting. I should have seen the signs. Now what am I going to do?”
“Don’t worry. Things will all work out. It is better that you found out now.
Everything is going to be okay. Dad and I will help you out, and you and the baby will be fine. Always know we are one-hundred percent behind you. We love you, and we will love your baby. You’ll be fine.”
“I’m so glad I have you for a mom. I should have listened to your good advice long ago. I’ve really messed up this time, but I want to have this baby. Jerry really wasn’t thrilled with the idea. I should have seen through his words and actions. Please forgive me for being so shortsighted; I feel like a fool.”

Hometowns
By Erin Lyons
I drank way too much coffee this morning. My stomach keeps growling and I’m telling it to hush, but stomachs don’t have any ears, just intestines to wrap them up in and prevent them from thinking. Sometimes I worry until my teeth hurt, I study until my eyes sting, and I scrub the tub until my fingers prune. We cannot have a dirty tub – my mother believes that a tub defines a person.
“A dirty tub makes a dirty person, because they don’t care where they bathe – when you are clean so is your tub.”
Nothing my mother says is even the least bit valid. She pretty much pulls things from the tippy tops of her fingers and yanks them down until they’re just barely skimming the surface.
My father and I have spent the majority of our lives surrounded by cleaning products and warm buckets of water. For my birthday, my mom used to buy me new buckets and sponges; every eleven year olds dream gift. How incredibly thrilling it is to surround myself in Lysol and comet, buckets of bleach water polluting the hallway, scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing. My head spins from mixing chemicals and I blame my learning disability on that. They say if you mix bleach with anything else that it kills brain cells. Well I must be a vegetable, I hope I’m broccoli.
The smallest things have always bothered my parents. My father is allergic to every animal imaginable- I’m sure goldfish are on that list. Also, the medical staff at

P.C.H, the hospital located conveniently ten minutes from our house, knows my father by his first name.
“Oh, hey there Jack – what seems to be the problem this time?”
My mother is just obsessive compulsive about being clean, and me, their only daughter, I’m a mixture of both, I guess; a hypochondriac who’s allergic to germs. One day I’ll think I have pneumonia and the next I’ll be late to class, scrubbing up to my elbows in the public restrooms at school because I accidentally touched the doorknob. It’s hard for me to make friends with such weird parents, and on the other end of the spectrum, I’m weird too. I guess it helps that my two best friends Dan and Lynn Morris,
(fraternal twins), befriended me one day while at the hospital with my mom.
We had to rush my dad into the emergency room after he swore he was having a seizure – big surprise it was just a muscle spasm. Lynn was sitting in the waiting room, playing one of those dollar store-traveling boards. She losing to her brother, who with every “check mate”, would slam down the piece as hard as he could and do a victory dance. I was watching them through my magazine when Dan called me over.
“You any good at chess?” He asked. I shook my head no.
“Good, you can help my sister then.”
And from then on the three of us started to spend time together. We’d usually just watch movies or go to the park across the street from my house. It was good for people watching and making up weird scenarios about strangers who carried umbrellas on sunny days.

“I think she has a skin disease.” Dan would say about this one particular woman who always wore a pink latex jacket with matching rain boots, all synchronizing with her skeleton umbrella.
“I just think she’s crazy.” Lynn would chime in, sipping on a Styrofoam cup (its contents always warm).
And me, I just figured she was the sanest of us all. At least she knew she was crazy, because you can’t be crazy unless you don’t know it, and my god she knew it.
Dan loved to write. He wrote for the school newspaper and had a way with words.
He won many awards and Lynn, on the other hand, was always into older guys and older literature.
“Just take it from the top,” I could hear Dan yelling from the garage that was under Lynn’s room.
She sighed heavily, pulling another yearbook from her shelf of memories.
“Band practice, psh, like they’re even really a band." Lynn sneered.
I looked around her room taking in its feel. It smelled like a library and looked like an atomic bomb had gone off somewhere under her mounds of dirty (maybe they were clean,) clothes that covered the floor. I couldn’t believe her mom allowed such a messy room. Then again they did let their cats eat off their kitchen counter, so I guess clothes covering the bedroom floors and dirty bowls of cereal on the dressers wasn’t a big deal.
“Dan is thinking of applying to this college,” she turned the page and pointed with her index finger to a college reference book she must have stolen from another library

while they were on vacation; the jacket on the outside said it was somewhere down south.
The college was called Columbia University and it was located in New York City.
“It’s specifically for writers,” She sighed again pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, identical to the way Dan did.
I licked my lips taking in the description written underneath the black and white photo.
“That’s so far, but that’s neat to think about." Lynn quickly slammed the book shut before I could finish reading and threw it out the window, literally into the bushes lined up around her house.
“Well he isn’t going!!! No way is he leaving me here with Mom, I’ll run away before I ever let that happen!”
Growing up in New Jersey is a little like growing up in England. I am only saying this because I once read an article online about how the life of a teenager is in England, by a girl named Penelope. She won an award for exposing the truth about the tiny town she grew up in. She talked about how half the kids were drug addicts, the other half was racist, and the little percentage left had no opinions what so ever. She said this was the reason why she believes everyone should always escape their hometown and find their own identity. Once you leave the place you grew up in you take on a whole new role in the world. I think that’s fun to think about, but I don’t know if I could ever leave this place. I would feel bad leaving my dog, Bobby all alone. He cries whenever I leave him for a few hours, I can’t imagine how he’d be if I left for good. I guess I’ll never really find out.

I used to wake up at 4a.m, just so I could make myself a bowl of raisin oatmeal and sit in the dark and eat the hot food. When you eat something extremely hot it wakes your body up. I would then get a bath in our clean-enough-to-eat-off bathtub and get myself ready (mentally,) for school. Sometimes I would eat the oatmeal in the tub, which if my mother ever found out about that would be the death of me.
I was a senior, exactly three months after the “book incident,” when Lynn disappeared. Dan and I found out while we were sitting in class. His mother Mrs. Morris had sent their older brother, Brinkley, to bring him home for questioning.
“This has to do with Lynn, Bet’cha $5,” Dan whispered, smirking when he got taken out of class.
But when Brinkley’s face came into focus, I knew it was true. I could see
Brinkley questioning Dan, who looked like a deer in headlights. The last we’d heard she was on her way to steal from another library the night before. She never came home? Dan figured she was just skipping again when she didn’t come outside her bedroom door that morning. I could feel the oatmeal coming up.
After the disappearance of Lynn, Dan stopped coming to school, his band broke up, and he stopped writing. Mrs. Morris found her daughters shelf full of stolen library books and volunteered me to help go around and return them, all 554 of them. Lynn had racked up more then $5,000 in stolen library book fees and Mrs. Miller didn’t want that on her conscience. Most had to be shipped out west to vacationing spots the Millers had covered over the years, a handful of them were distributed all over New England.
“She really loved herself some books, half of these I swear she couldn’t have read,” Mrs. Morris replied somberly, while carefully complying stacks of library books

into cardboard boxes, then lining them with clear sticky packaging tape. I took a sharpie and wrote down the addresses to the libraries that were on a sheet of yellow paper, only two more packages left to mail.
We hoped by the time we’d finished mailing all of the books back Lynn would have came home, but seven months later she was still missing. There were no leads on her disappearance, and a year later, her story was on Unsolved Mysteries, which was my favorite show before I saw myself talking about my former best friend on the other end of the television screen. It was literally like she’d disappeared into thin air.
Small towns, half the kids are drug addicts like Dan Morris, the other half are racists, saying that the reason Lynn disappeared was because of foul play, solely because she is black, and the other half has no opinions like me.
How thrilling it is to surround myself in cleaning chemicals while reading books about colleges that Dan Morris has long since forgotten about. I don’t think that Lynn will ever come back, she’s either dead or long since escaped this town, but I know if she does come back, she’ll be pissed about her books.

Krystal Mason
“Buck, wake up, its time for school.” My mother would always say at eight o clock in the morning.
Every morning in 1997, when I woke up, I would not want to go to school. My mother and father didn’t know that. I would try to act sick but that would never work.
Unless when my mother would check my temperature and it was really high. Once I got on the school bus the only thing that I would think about was coming home. When we arrived at St Josephs Middle school, I would wait for everyone to go in. I would stand outside till all the busses came and waited until everyone else would go in. When I was the last one standing outside, the bell would ring. I knew school had started and it was time for me to walk back home. For me to walk back home than would take three hours.
It was worth more to me to go home by a three-hour walk than to stay at school for six hours and got bullied. When I got home my mother wasn’t home. I was safe. I went up to my room to play my favorite video game. I liked being in my room because no one could hurt me or tease me about my stupidity. That same day, I was sure that I got away with not going to school. I was wrong. I felt dumbfounded, because I knew school would eventually call home. That night my father took me down the basement and abused me.
He would abuse me by hitting me. This was nothing new to me. Whenever I didn’t achieve to do something in school, he would just think that I was a failure. My mother didn’t know he did that or did my brother. It was another Monday night where I was in the corner of my room in the dark all alone crying.

Liz Lebeniz was my first love. People in high school voted that we would be the future husband and wife. I lost my virginity to Liz. I guess that’s why it was so hard to get over her. But I’ve always loved her ever since we were young. In middle school, she was the only person that didn’t bully me. She actually liked me and would help me out a lot. We basically grew up together always liking each other. Once we got to high school, that was when I never got to see her. My father sent me to a military academy. My brother went there to, but the family loved my brother. He was someone that would succeed in life. He was the smart good one and I was the stupid bad one. Going to the military academy was the second worst choice the family made for me. My father abusing me when I was younger was the first. I was depressed the first time I got there.
The guys were all bigger than me and treated me like a piece of meat. I met my first real good friend there though. Johima Kush. He was Indian and was small like me. We always had each others backs no matter what. Every night I would chat with Liz on the computer. She would tell me how much she missed me and how much she wanted to see me. Eventually I got to a point that I couldn’t stand not seeing her anymore. One night I snuck out of the school and walked almost three miles to the train station. Once I got off of the stop that Liz lived near, I would have to walk another four miles just to get to her house. I never regretted doing this because it was worth seeing her.
“No matter what we go through, I will always be here for you,” she would always tell me. “If we can’t even see each other at all, I will never let you go.”
Those words made me want to come see her all the time. The phrase that she said made me happy. No one ever told me that they loved me except for my mother. My father never told me that he loved me. Johima would watch out for me every time I snuck

out. The night when I decided to sneak out one last time, was the last time I would see
Liz. That night I didn’t want to take the train because it took so long. I wanted to steal a car and I knew how. I was always good with cars. When I got out of the parking lot I was safe. Once I got to Liz’s, she told me that the cops were all around looking for me. She told me to hurry up and go. I was only sixteen and didn’t have my license yet, but I was pretty damn good at driving. I really thought I got away that night, until I had cops chasing after me. I didn’t even bother to race the cop cars. I just hoped out of the car and started to run. There were almost twenty cops and a helicopter looking for me. I finally got pinned downed in my backyard. Six months after this had happened, my father decided to send me to a school that I thought I would have never gone to.
“You’re going to New York with me for a vacation,” he said as he waited for me downstairs.
“Just you and me, Dad…seriously?” I said, confused.
When we got to the airport, my dad sent me by myself on an airplane to New
York. I ended up at Ivy Ridge a boarding school for troubled kids. I guess this boarding school did help me out. But Liz wasn’t there. I would write her letters but she never wrote back. The only letters I got were from my mom. She always loved me and cared about me. A year and a half later I came home. I called Liz to see what was going on.
“Hey Liz, I’m finally home!”
“Oh, Buck that’s great. I’m happy to hear that.”
“Yeah, I can come over now!” I said excitingly
“Buck, I don’t think that’s such a good idea..”
“What, why wouldn’t it be?”

“I haven’t talked or heard from you for two years and I told myself that I needed to move on.”
I hung up. She had a new boyfriend already. What she told me two years ago was lies. Life was full of lies to me.
*
It has been thirteen years since my father hasn’t abused me. We barley even talk or see each other anymore. Because of what has happened to me when I was younger, it makes me not trust anyone.
My girlfriend, Lona, is eighteen and I am twenty. A two year difference, not to bad. Lona is about to graduate high school this year. I’m very proud of her. She is attending Abington College, which isn’t too far away from home so I know she will be close around. Lona and I have been going through a lot of things ever since we met. But the past one year and a half I have changed. Well at least I think I did. I don’t know what
Lona thinks though. We used to always argue over dumb things. We still do but not as bad as before. I always think I am right, even though I am wrong. I never say sorry unless
I really do realize what I’ve done.
Back then whenever we fought, I never gave her a chance to tell her side of the story because I didn’t care. There were plenty of times that I went to parties without her.
This was because my friends wouldn’t want me to bring her. They didn’t want me to be tied down at parties. Of course, I picked them over her, since we were bros. When I did go to the parties alone, I would talk to other girls. I liked getting checked out and showing off to girls what I could do. I took a body shot off of this girl that I used to talk

to. We also made out. I never felt guilty about it though, because Lona said she would get with her ex again if we weren’t together. After a long night of partying, I’d check my phone to see how many missed calls I got from her. She usually called me every hour and then at a certain point she just stopped. She also sent me paragraphs of text messages and told me how much of a douche bag I was. I really didn’t take time to read it all because I did not care. Whenever she told me off, it made me even madder. So that made me not want to hang out with her at all. I would blow her off on dates, show up late at her high school dances, always complain about giving her a ride, never show up to her dance recital, and never care about what she thought.
Now that I look back at all the things that I have done to Lona, I realize that I was a very bad boyfriend. I never got why she stayed with me all that time. Lona is beautiful and can get any guy to fall in love with her. She has a great personality and she isn’t an ordinary girl you would ever meet. Lona has the brain of a twenty one year old. She is very independent at times and a very smart girl. I’m surprised she isn’t living on her own yet, since she never gets along with her alcoholic mom. That’s where I come in. She always tells me that I am the highlight of her day. I’m more of a getaway to her. When I take her out she feels free. I take Lona to parties now and almost wherever I go. But sometimes I wish I did leave her at home.
Going to an aeronautical school in Flordia was always my dream. I did get into one in Florida. I knew this was the right path for me. Once I was there, I knew I would succeed. My father would pay for all of it. This was my chance to show him that I could succeed just like my brother Tom. The hard part was leaving Lona. I could deal with long

distance but I knew she couldn’t. She wasn’t used to it. But somehow we did manage to stay together. When I was in college I decided to join a fraternity. That was the most stupid decision I could ever make. I would go to parties every night and not do my school work. Don’t get me wrong, I did try first semester, but I started to fail and didn’t want to do my schoolwork anymore. Partying was much better for me. That was what I was best at. Everyone liked me and I fit in. The girls didn’t matter to me there though. Being away from Lona so long made me realize how much of a mean person I was to her. Lona would come visit me every three months. She saved up all her work money to buy a plane ticket. When she came here I was always happy, although there were still some things that I had to hide from her like usual. I didn’t tell her that I was failing and getting kicked out. I would not be able to come back here again. I didn’t want to tell her because I didn’t want her to see me as a failure, even though I knew I was. My father would always tell me that I was a failure ever since I was little. So I just gave up on things easily.
She knew I had early morning classes the first time she came down. That was when I tried. The second time she came she knew something was up. I didn’t go to my morning classes. I tried to pull it off by telling her that I dropped out of that class but she didnt believe me. As good as she was, she already knew my schedule. She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t say much, though. But I knew she didn’t say anything because she knew how I would react. This was the night that Lona found out that I got with a girl at a party and gave her a belly shot a while back. When I saw her get on her plane, I felt guilty and sad. I knew I was getting depressed and I just didn’t want to tell myself that.
Near the end of the college year, I met friends that were just like me. Mick and
John both didn’t do well in school. Whenever they felt bad about themselves, they would

smoke weed. I smoked weed before but not as much as they did. I would only do it if my friends did. After I met Mick and John, I started to smoke every day at all times. I liked being high. Everything was much different. It made me feel good about myself. They also did shrooms. I was really afraid of those kinds of drugs, because once you did shrooms you might never be yourself again. Since Mick and John did shrooms and seemed fine, I decided to do shrooms. Once I did do it, I realized it wasn’t as bad as I thought. I saw things that I never thought I would. Shrooms was just really funny. When I got high, it helped me realize that I wasn’t a failure. It made all the pain go away.
Including my childhood pain. That pain would never leave my body. The only thing that didn’t go away was that I would never come back to this aeronautical school again. Once
I was home I was not going to go any where in life.
*
I live with my mom at home. I am almost turning twenty-one and haven’t graduated from college yet. Most people that were in my graduating year are off to their steady jobs. I don’t even have a job, but that’s not a problem for me. My father owns five doctor’s offices and is a doctor also. So if I really ever do need money, my father can give it to me. It’s not easy as before though. I lost all his trust ever since I failed out of a good expensive college and was always getting into trouble. My mother still loves me though. She has faith in me. She always tells me I’m still young and can achieve in life.
Even though she has faith in me, I know I won’t achieve what I wanted. My friends are all low lifes and I’m part of them too. No matter how hard I try, I always seem to fail.

One day I do hope to be successful, but for right now, I’m really not going anywhere.
Lona believes in me to. Well she used to. It’s time for her to leave for college in a month or so. She is not the same Lona that I use to know. I guess cause she turned into a woman instead of a girl that I’ve known. We don’t hang out as much as we used to. I’ll call her during the day and sometimes she won’t call back until that night. Tonight was the first time she called me in a while.
“Hey, Buck, are we going out to eat tonight?” she said.
“Well, I was going to hang out with the guys tonight,” I said.
“Well…you told me you would take me out to dinner to Outback since I’ve never been there before”.
“Oh, I did?” I said, trying to remember.
“Yeah….never mind. Forget it, Buck. I knew you would forget.”
“What do you mean, you knew? I hate it whenever you always doubt me. I’m sick and tired of it,” I said screaming into the phone.
She hangs up. I knew she was mad at me but I don’t care. I knew I was wrong but
I hated how she always looked down at me. She was either upset or complaining about me. Ten minutes later, I call her back.
“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scream at you. I know I’m wrong. I’ll be there at eight.”
“Okay…” She hung up.
I really don’t have anyone that cares about me now. My mother wants me out of the house and I don’t want to live with my friends. I wouldn’t really call them friends

either because I don’t want to be like them. I can’t live with Lona because she isn’t mine anymore. She is off to college, starting her new life, which I’m not part of. Her not being with me made a big impact on my life. It is true; when you take someone for granted, you never realize how much he or she meant to you, until they are gone. Ever since she left
I’ve been working on my car a lot. Working on cars helps me not to worry about anything at that moment. When I keep myself busy, I’m okay. So to keep myself busy, I decided to join community college to get my credits so I can transfer into another college. This made me feel good about myself. I don’t have that many friends anymore, but I’m okay with it.
I still don't trust anyone, but I know I do trust Lona. Ever since she left she made me realize I shouldn't think about the past. The future is important and I'm looking forward to starting a brand new life.

Lauren Merk
A Rude Awakening
Walking down the halls of Hampton High School, you could always spot Steven.
He was a six feet, five inch tall senior with a lot of muscle and weight on him. He was a tough guy; everyone knew to stand clear of him when he was in a bad mood. He never really seemed to care about much but his football. More than once, the coach had to pull some strings to keep Steven from getting suspended from playing because of his lack of effort in school. He wasn't dumb; he just didn't care. All he did was play football and party with his friends and take care of his mother.
Steven had a rough childhood. His mother had him when she was only just coming out of high school, she got into drugs and alcohol and his father was the exact same way. They were not the kind of role models that he should have been looking up to.
Every day he would come home to a place filled with cigarette smoke and almost no food in the house. His father left them when Steven was only five years old, so he took up the responsibility of watching over his mother. He was used to it, but as he got older, he started being able to make his own decisions. He knew he never wanted to be like them and wanted to stay as far away from drugs as possible and only to drink at parties when he didn’t need to drive home.
One night his friend Zac wanted to stop over and hang out at Steven’s house.
Steven had just gotten his license about a year ago and loved the freedom he had with his little gold car that his mother passed down to him. Zac wasn’t actually allowed to go to
Steven’s but Zac didn’t care; he and Steven were best friends and he wanted to go out that night. So Steven went over Zac’s at about six o’clock on his way home from football

and they took all the winding roads to get back to Steven’s house. They walked into the house and Steven tossed his keys into the makeshift key holder that at one point was just another cereal bowl. Then they headed to the kitchen and grabbed some food and headed down the steps. Steven flopped down on his regular seat and, as usual, Zac grabbed the game chair and rocked back and forth into it.
“Yo, man, flip on the TV and grab the controllers,” Steven said. “Let’s play some
Madden.”
“All right,” Zac answered, “I’m in! You’re not winning this time.”
Zac flipped on the television while grabbing the remotes and turned on the gaming consol. The two were transfixed in the game and, as usual, Steven was winning.
So after a few hours of playing, Zac finally gave up and they decided to turn off the game.
“So how are you and Lacey doing?” Steven asked Zac. “I haven’t heard you talk about her much.”
“I don’t know, man. She hasn’t been able to chill in a while,” Zac replied.
“Dude, she’s probably not busy. She probably has just moved on. You have got to get over her. We should go to a party this weekend and let loose, so you can find someone else to get with.”
“Yeah, that sounds good. I hear Tom is throwing a huge party Saturday night!
We should stop by.”
“All right, we’re going.”

At this point Steven had been looking at the clock and saw that it was getting late and he had football in the morning. So he popped up from the chair and Zac rolled out of his chair and they stomped up the stairs and out the front door.
It was a nice night. The sky was filled with stars and the temperature was perfect to have just a sweatshirt and shorts on, the perfect football weather. Whenever it felt like this outside, Steven got excited because he knew the next day was going to be a great practice if this weather kept up. Finally, the two of them made it to Steven’s little gold car.
“Here, plug this in. I just got a new play list on my Ipod,” Zac said. Then he shoved the adapter into the jack of his Ipod.
Once he put it in, he blasted the music and Steven tapped along with the beat on his wheel. Steven was pumped because the temperature was perfect, the music was blaring, and his best friend and he were up for a great weekend this week. Steven had these roads memorized and speeding was normal for him because he had the winds and turns down pat. Steven felt invincible; like nothing could touch him.
As he sped down the road, he hit a turn a little bit faster than usual. As soon as he rounded the corner, a mini van appeared on the other side of the bend. Steven felt the tires lose traction and knew that he had lost control of the car, and the turn felt a lot sharper than it ever was. Zac was holding on to the side of the door. It was as if time stood still. Steven saw that the van had also ended up in his lane, a little too close for comfort. His stomach dropped and he realized there was nothing either of them could do but watch. He turned to Zac and they just stared, scared to death.

It all happened so fast he had no time to react. He could only watch. The van slammed into the little car and sent it spinning. Then before he knew it, the car had flipped and he heard the crunching of metal and the busting of glass. During the noise he heard and felt a crack, one that would affect him a lot greater than he knew at the time.
Then he blacked out.
Feeling around in the dark little car, Steven felt lost. He wondered how long he was knocked out. It couldn’t have been long; the police hadn’t even arrived yet. Steven realized that the car was upside down and started feeling around for the door to get out.
As he was searching for a handle he noticed an iron taste hit his tongue and knew that he was bleeding from somewhere. Steven looked over to his right to Zac; it was a sight he wished he would never see in a million years. Zac sat there, motionless and mangled, in a bloody mess.
“Zac! Man! Are you okay? Can you hear me?! I’m so sorry!” Steven proclaimed.
There was no response. Steven went into rescue mode and knew he had to get out and get help. He grabbed for his seatbelt and unclipped it. He pushed the airbag away and quickly crawled out of the car. As he shifted his weight he felt a sharp pain like he had never felt before; it was coming from his right hip. But right now pain wasn’t his concern. He needed help and knew Zac needed to get medical attention. Steven pulled out his phone and the first person who came to mind was his mother. So he called her frantically. By the second ring she picked up.
“Mom! I’ve been in an accident. I’m about a mile from home and Zac is in really bad shape,” Steven cried in the phone. “I don’t know what to do! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”
“Are you okay? I’m coming. Hold tight, baby!” his mother responded.

“I’m all right, but you need to help Zac! Something’s terribly wrong. He isn’t responding,”
“All right, I’m on my way!”
Steven was slipping in and out of consciousness. The police had finally arrived and then ambulances and fire trucks were in close pursuit. The last thing Steven remembered was his mom coming, frantic and screaming, and the first response people putting him on a stretcher and into the ambulance.
*
There was a terrible pain in his hip. As soon as Steven felt the pain, he remembered everything about the crash very vividly: the pain, the noise, the blood, and
Zac’s limp body. He looked around and saw his mother, his aunt, and his uncle all leaning in over the bed he was lying in. As he tried to move around, the pain became greater and greater. Then he looked down at his waist and saw that his hip was all bandaged up and asked what had happened. His family tried to break it to him as easily as possible, but there was no way around the reality.
“Steven, you broke your hip,” his mother said. “The doctors aren’t sure if you will ever be able to walk normally again.”
“So, are you saying I will never be able to play football again?” Steven asked, with his hopes low.
His mother couldn’t answer. She just hung her head because she knew how much this was going to kill her son.
Steven was feeling sorry for himself, but then the image of his best friend crept back into his mind and so he turned to his mother again, “Mom, how is Zac doing?”

“Steven, he isn’t doing well at all. He is in the ICU. He’s been in there all night; he is internally bleeding and the doctors can’t find the source of the blood. He is losing a lot of blood.”
Steven’s heart dropped. This was entirely his fault. He should have gone slower; he should have been more cautious. He couldn’t believe that just the day before, he and
Zac were just hanging out like every other night and both of them were safe and healthy.
All he wanted to do now was rewind to that moment and slow down his driving and make sure that Zac and he were safe.
Hours passed and they were getting no word about how Zac was doing. Every once in a while, Steven’s mom would go to the main desk to see how Zac was doing but the nurses would have no true answer. As of then, there was no change in Zac’s condition. Finally, word came back to Steven that Zac was going to be okay. This lifted a huge weight off of Steven’s shoulders. He couldn’t wait to be able to walk out of his bed to go see Zac. But seeing that Steven couldn’t walk, he had his mother go down and check up on Zac for him. As she left the room, he noticed she had on her favorite
Steeler’s sweatshirt and he felt a lump in his throat when he realized his college football dreams would never come true.
*
Steven’s mother walked into Zac’s room and when she got there, Zac’s mother was already in the room with him. As soon as Zac’s mother saw Steven’s mother, she exploded.
“My son almost died last night because of your son!” Zac’s mother screamed. “He wasn’t even supposed to go out last night! Your son snuck over to my house and picked

up Zac and without me even knowing. Then I get a call from my neighbor that there was a terrible car accident and my son was in it!” Her eyes had so much anger in them that
Steven’s mom could barely look at her, “My son almost died. I will not put him at that risk anymore. He will no longer be allowed to see Steven again.”
Stunned by her reaction, Steven’s mother did not know what to say. She knew the whole situation about Zac not being able to come but coming anyways because Steven had told her about it during the hours they were waiting for the update on Zac’s status.
Then she realized she didn’t call Zac’s mother right when the accident happened.
Everything happened too fast and the only time she even thought about picking up her phone to call someone other than family was when she was in the hospital and realized that by then Zac’s mother was already informed of the accident. She felt horrible for not telling her sooner. But she knew Zac’s mother wouldn’t budge, so she knew Steven would never be allowed to hang out with his best friend again.
*
Steven was sitting on his coach, trying to come up with a way to occupy his mind but all that kept coming up was football. He missed playing and missed his team. Within the first week of bed rest Steven had his mother remove anything football related from the room he was in. Steven couldn’t believe that he would never be on the field. He also missed Zac; it had been months since the last time he was able to talk to him. So every day he would wake up, have his mom bring him food, and then sit all day watching TV and surfing the web. Every time he looked over at the video game, his thoughts would float back to his best friend and that terrible night. After that night, Steven swore he would never get in the driver’s seat ever again because he almost killed someone and

wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he actually did kill someone. So he felt the best way to keep people safe was for him never to drive again.
Steven had been depressed a lot recently because of the absence of his best friend and the loss of his love, football. Without both of those things he didn’t know what to do with himself. His life seemed to be going down the tubes.
“Steven,” his mother said, “I rented some new movies for us to watch if you want!”
“No thanks, Mom, I’m pretty tired,” Steven said.
He knew his mom was just trying to keep him company and make him happier, but he just wasn’t having it. All he wanted was his old life back. He wanted to hang out with Zac and play football again. Every day he would catch himself day dreaming oof his everyday football practices and then hanging out with Zac afterwards, laughing about everything.
Months passed and Steven was finally able to go to therapy to get back to walking. His progress was a lot faster than the doctor expected and it turned out that he would be able to work normally again. So he became very excited with this news. His face lit up and then asked the question he had been burning to ask, “Does this mean I will be able to recover fully and play football again?”
“Sorry, son,” the doctor said, “there will be no more contact sports in your future.
You need to keep your hip protected.”
Steven was very disappointed because that was all he wanted to do, step back on that football field again and be able to feel the excitement under those Friday night-lights.

Steven finally got back to school and didn’t feel as respected as he once did. It seemed that everyone in school had already heard the news of the accident and that
Steven and Zac were no longer on speaking terms. Steven hated every day of school, coming in and looking like the guy who just about killed his best friend. He hated how self-conscious it made him feel. All he wanted to do was turn around and leave the school. But now that football was over in his life he didn’t know what to do with himself.
Steven started doing things he would have never done before; one of the most obvious wrong things he did was that he started to gamble. It became his secret obsession.
Every day he would log on to his lap top and join in games like poker on different gaming sites that he played on. Every day he accumulated large sums of money in his winnings, so he became more daring, but he had continually add more money to keep on winning. He didn’t have enough money to just throw away, in games like this, but he couldn’t help it and it was the only way he could get money because he wasn’t able to walk around at the time when he first started. He knew that his mother was low on money and he felt that he should get it back somehow and gambling was the best way to get it.
At one point he was gaining enough money that if he pulled out, he’d have made enough money to really help out his mother. But now gambling was an addiction; he couldn’t stop. All he could think about was grabbing his lap top and gambling. He became a regular and when they had those online chats, everyone knew him already because he was on everyday, multiple times a day. One day Steven came home from school and his mother was sitting at the table with the lap top in front of her. Steven’s heart dropped.
“Steven, what is this website that is up on your computer?”

“Mom, why did you go in my room and look on my computer?!”
Steven could feel the heat rising in his head and was furious that his mother went into his room and busted him.
“Steven, this is very unlike you. Why are you gambling?” his mother asked, concerned.
All of a sudden the anger washed away from Steven and he heard the worry in his mother’s voice and felt horrible for making her feel like that. He realized that he needed to stop because he was going to lose sooner or later, and who knew how he’d get by without his money.
“Mom, I’m sorry. I want to get help. I am addicted and I need to stop. Will you help me?”
The only reply she could think of was, “I will help you, Steven. We will call some professional help right now.”
After weeks of counseling, his obsession was erased and he knew he needed to change his life for the better. He needed to take more responsibility and figure out what he wanted to do for the rest of his life. He realized the only way you can get something you want is if you work hard for it. He learned this early on when he first started football.
His coach would always tell the team, “If you want something, you have got to fight for it. You have to give it your all and never give up. The only way to win is if you work hard.”
This always stuck in Steven’s head and when he thought about it again, he realized that if he wanted a good life he needed a good job. The only way he could get a good job was he would have to go to college. Unfortunately, Steven’s entire high school

career was a joke to him and he had terrible grades. No college was about to pick him to go to their school. He was one of the worst students in his school and would just barely pass classes to get by and play football. He was a senior with no plans for the future. He never thought about the future because ever since freshman year, his mind set was to play football in college. Now he didn’t know.
Sitting at home on his couch, Steven had no idea what to do with himself. The last couple of his friends left two days ago and there was nothing to do at home so he wanted to get out. Looking around the empty house he wished he did better in school. He wished he could go through it all over again and fix those things that he thought didn’t matter.
While he was thinking this, his mother walked into the room. “Steven,” his mother said,
“what’s going on baby? You look upset.”
“Mom, have you ever regretted not being able to go to college?” Steven asked.
When he asked this Steven kept eye contact with her and knew she was caught off guard with that question so he stopped and waited for her response. Finally, she replied.
“I am sorry that I never had the chance to experience the life of a college student and get a degree so I could hold a job that earns a lot better pay then I do now. But my life was different than most high schoolers. I was already a mother so I got to stay home, but I thank God everyday for letting me have you as my son. So I guess what I am trying to say is, I’m sorry I didn’t go to college, but I don’t regret not going because I had you.”
Steven sat in silence for a moment as he let all this information sink in. He wanted a good life and felt the need to succeed in something. The only way he would get far in life was if he would go to college. So after thinking it through, he replied to his mother,
“Mom, do you think I should go to college?”

“Steven, it is your life and those decisions are yours to make. But I think that if you are willing to work hard, you will achieve great things.”
“I have been thinking about it for awhile and I think I’m ready to stop being known as a dumb jock. I want to do something with my life and the only thing I think will help me get to what I want to be is to go to college. But, the only problem now is that since I slacked off so much in high school no college would want to take me.”
“If you want to, you still have time to enroll in the community college down the street. At that school you can show how hard you can work and it will help you get accepted to another school. But you have to really try your hardest. This isn’t like high school. Teachers don’t care if you’re failing.”
“I know mom. But I’m tired of being a failure. I am willing to learn and I’m ready for any kind of work that college will throw at me.”
The next day, Steven was at the community college, filling out papers and figuring out what classes he was going to take. Nervously he looked down the papers and saw that he would need to take placement testing. He wished he tried harder in high school because now these tests might be impossible to him and lower his chances of getting accepted to any other college. His goal was to leave community college by
December and get accepted into a college with higher standards.
*
It is the start of his second semester of college and with all his determination he made it to the top of his class in community college and got accepted to a small private college called, Saint Vincent. Walking around the campus, Steven knew this was where he wanted to be. He earned his spot at this school and was willing to do what it takes to

come out of here with a diploma. It was his second week at school and he was already hunched over his books, preparing for another exam. Steven was in the library so much that he had a favorite spot under a stained glass window that he would sit in every time he went. Sometimes Steven would even come to the library just to get away from the stress of life.
Everywhere Steven went; football always seemed to follow him. At college when he went to fill out the application he started looking at the sports section. As he went down the line he had to stop for a moment and stare at the box next to football that he would never be able to fill in. At this moment he had a flash back to that horrible night, the night when he lost his friendship and the ability to play football.
*
Steven was getting piles of work everyday so he was in the library more and more often. While in his regular spot he noticed a girl about four tables down from him had been coming very often too. Every time he saw her he felt butterflies in his stomach and couldn’t help but look up every couple minutes to get a glance of her. But he made sure to keep the eye contact to as much of a minimum as possible. He always felt a little nervous when she was around and wondered if she ever looked over at him. She always looked so peaceful over at her table. She would wear her glasses that made her look very intelligent and her long dark hair always looked good next to her tan face. Steven would always wait for her to leave the library before he did so he could spend as much time with her as possible. He wanted to talk to her but he just could never muster up enough courage to head over.
*

Steven had just finished studying his economic notes when he did it. Closing the book quietly, Steven gathered all of his things and piled them up on top of each other. He left them on the table and walked what felt like a mile to get to her. She turned just as he tripped on a large book that was left on the library floor. He stumbled then caught himself by grabbing onto a shelf and finally regained his balance. Great, he thought. But right before he went to turn back to his books, he felt her hand grab his arm.
She had a smile pulled across her face with her laughter barely being kept in.
When he looked at her and his heart melted. He was close enough to smell her perfume and see her close up. She was prettier than he ever remembered her. He noticed how effortlessly she could just take his breath away and he knew he should do what he came over to do. But before he could ask her to go out, she had started talking to him.
“Hey, are you okay? I don’t mean to laugh, but if you could have seen yourself, you’d be laughing too,” she said was a playful smile.
He could barely listen. His heart was racing and he was searching for the right words to say. Something to keep this conversation going, “Yeah, I wouldn’t doubt it, it must have been quite the show.” He smiled when he said this even though he knew it was a lame response he felt like he lost all his words and small talk became increasingly difficult to manage.
“My name’s Bridget. I was just about to head out and play some tennis with some friends. You’re welcome to join, if you’d like!”
Steven paused for a moment; this was not something football players would want to participate in. He remembered in high school, making fun of the tennis players. He

wasn’t sure he wanted to play this sport. But he wanted to hang out with Bridget, so he swallowed his pride and responded to her.
“I would love that; I’ve never played tennis, but I think I’ll be able to get the hang of it.”
“Don’t worry, it’s an easy sport. You’ll pick it up in no time.”
Steven felt like he had been star struck and smiled the whole way back to his dorm while quickly getting changed into some sport clothes and sneakers; he was all ready to play. A few minutes later he got to the courts with Bridget and her friends waiting. As soon as Bridget spotted him, she waved him over to her court and all of his doubts of the sport washed away because he knew he would be spending more time with
Bridget. After the first match Steven started to get the hang of the sport. He loved the competition and was eager to play more. Maybe, just maybe, tennis was the thing that would fill in the hole in his life, which was the loss of football.

Liz Mishler
The Dinner
Her phone rang in an obnoxious tone. She was pretty sure her sister changed her phone ringer last time she was over. She grabbed the phone from the charger and looked at the caller i.d. “VIVIANE WESTWOOD” her phone blinked. Serena rolled her eyes at her sister’s name change. Serena pressed the call button. “Why does my phone play I’m a
Barbie Girl?” she said without even saying hello.
Serena heard her sister’s signature cackle, “Because I hate you.”
“That I believe, you cretin.” Serena rolled her eyes again. “And why are you a designer on my phone? And how do I change my ring back to the old monotone ring?”
Serena could almost feel her sister shrug her shoulders through the phone.
“Not a clue. I just know how to change them, not reverse the process. Yianni is very upset with me too because on the house phone it plays It’s a ‘Small World’ and I got his cell phone to play ‘Alejandro’ when I call him,” Viviane stated.
“Oh, I am sure that your boyfriend just loves that one,” Serena said nonchalantly.
Viviane giggled into the phone.
The sisters chitchatted back and forth, Serena asking how the gig at Chanel was holding up and Viviane asking how being a junior editor was treating her.
“Now, I know you didn’t just call me to talk about life, Viv. You and I meet for lunch every Thursday and catch up. What’s up?” Serena asked.
“Well…it’s that time of the year.”
“Uh huh, and your point being?”

Viviane took a deep breath and Serena winced; she knew her sister was going to explode in some detailed story.
“Okay, so I figured that since Claire picked last year and we, like, went on the most depressing trip of my life, side note, I hate Connecticut, and I wanted to kill myself.
And I know that I am banned from picking since our wonderful trip to Africa. I believe that I should not be held accountable for that. I can’t control the weather or how the hotel runs itself. I take no part in the breaking of the air conditioning unit of the entire hotel. It was a five star hotel, by the way… ” Viviane took another deep breath.
“I am going to cut you off right there, Viv,” Serena said. Her husband Ayden walked through the door. He pantomimed asking who was on the phone. Serena mouthed
“Viviane”, and Ayden rolled his eyes.
“But, Rini! I want to pick the trip so, so bad. And it won’t be too crazy because I love everyone and would not want them to suffer anymore than they already do by being around my presence.” Viviane’s last sentence sounded mechanical and like she read off of cue cards.
Serena laughed into the phone, “Tell Yianni I said hello.”
“Who’s Yianni? My love’s name is Jimmy Choo. He doesn’t abuse me or mistreat me or try to control me.” Serena heard an indignant squawk in the background.
“I am not controlling you! You promised me nowhere crazy if I agreed to help convince everyone that you should pick the trip,” she heard her sister’s boyfriend saying, muffled in the background.
“Blah, blah. Anyways, Rini, darling sister of mine! Want to let me pick our vacation this year? I’m thinking somewhere in the US of A. I agreed to the terms that

Yianni forcefully made me agree to. Nowhere exotic or fun or where the cranky old people can’t have air conditioning or coffee or where they have to sit on a plane for hours,” Viviane explained. Serena could almost see her sister’s hands wave around as she told this story, something she picked up from their grandmother.
“Yeah, yeah, Viv, I got you. I’ll call everyone and we’ll all meet for dinner at some place that I get to pick. I’ll text you the place and the time. Put Yianni on the phone.” Serena heard Viviane huff and yell for Yianni to come there and pick up the phone.
“And what can I help you with?” Yianni asked. Serena could now hear her sister complaining in the background.
“Where does she want to go? Please tell me it isn’t South America. I know she said it was in the States, but Vivi likes to lie. She told us we were going to the Safari at
Disney and we ended up on a never ending plane ride to Africa.”
Yianni snorted, “I’m pretty positive she wants to stay in the U.S.”
“Like Arizona? Or Texas? Maybe Alaska? Oh, please tell me that we are not going on an Alaskan cruise.”
Yianni laughed again and reassured Serena that they were in fact not going on an
Alaskan cruise.
“Listen, Yianni, I trust you. You make sure you check all the travel reservations and websites she’s been on. No Alaskan cruise and no trip to American Samoa. This trip has to be in the actual United States.”
“I do solemnly swear Serena Greenwood-Matthews that we are in fact staying on
American soil. She didn’t even think of Samoa. Trust me, I checked her lists of vacation

places. I nixed the idea of Indonesia for the group and now I have to take just her and me.
Serena, I swear sometimes your sister just picks crazy places just to see our reactions.
She made me promise that for our next upcoming trips she gets to pick places outside of the U.S., I hope you appreciate my sacrifice.”
“Oh, I definitely appreciate your sacrifice. I mean, it’s so hard to be you and travel constantly.”
“Thanks for the sarcasm. Going to foreign places with your sister means shopping. This means a lot of money and a ton of distractions. Do you have any idea how hard it is to have a conversation with your sister while she is shopping?” Yianni asked.
“Oh, I definitely have an understanding.”
Serena could hear her sister again in the background, “I am still in the room, you know!”
“All right, Yianni, I’ll let you go. Make her stop complaining. She’s picking the trip.”
Yianni chucked and said goodbye and goodnight. The last thing Serena heard was her sister cheering hysterically.
Serena got off the phone with Yianni. The group was going to meet at this
Chinese place. She pulled out her cell phone and sent out a mass text to everyone. She waited a few minutes. Her phone buzzed twice with texts. One from Yianni and it was a picture of Viviane doing a happy dance. Serena rolled her eyes at her sister again and opened the next text. It was from Claire, expressing her glee for the upcoming trip and then fright when she realized that Vivi might be picking the trip.

Serena poured herself a glass of wine and wandered away from her kitchen to her living room. She left her cell phone in the kitchen. Serena could hear it buzz from the incoming texts from her friends. In the living room she grabbed the photo album under her coffee table and opened it and flipped through the pictures. She and Viviane put the album together over the course of a couple of years. In the album were pictures from high school, college and what Viv loved to call “playing grownups.”
The first picture was of her and Ayden. They were sitting at the local café.
Vivienne had sneaked up on them and taken a picture. Serena made a face at the camera, a mixture of surprise and anger. Ayden just smiled goofily and held his hot chocolate up to the camera. Viviane and Serena’s mother had grounded Viviane for a whole day for the date crashing.
Serena remembered when she first met Ayden. It was their freshman year of high school. He was a transfer student from Wyoming, which everyone at school had a field day with. He had a slight accent and a farm boy charm. Serena sighed and flipped through the album. She fell in love with him on the spot. Serena remembered that time as being the happiest in her life. She didn’t feel the same anymore.
Serena sipped her wine. Ayden wandered out of the bedroom, ready for bed.
“You coming to bed tonight? Or should I throw your pillow out for you again?”
“No, I’ll be to bed in a second. I have a few things to do,” Serena said. She got up from the sofa and walked into the kitchen. She checked her Blackberry and scrolled through her inbox.
“Message from Viv?” Ayden asked. Serena raised a brow at him and continued typing her text.

He stared at her expectantly. Serena waved him off. Ayden walked back to the bedroom, scratching the back of his head. Serena left her wine glass on the coffee table, put the album away, and went into the bedroom.
*
It was late on Saturday morning when Serena woke up. She heard the familiar cars and traffic noises of New York City. Ayden had already left for work and Serena had the day off. She went about her normal routine.
Tonight was the night of the group dinner. Everyone was to meet at the place.
Some had to travel an hour or so but nothing too far. It was a week since she last talked to some of her friends. Some were excited for the trip, while others were nervous. Serena had doubled and tripled checked with Yianni to make sure that her sister had not planned some crazy trip to the Northern Alaskan providences or to an American territory in the
Pacific.
Serena triple checked her Blackberry all day for texts and emails. Everyone could make it. Yianni and Viviane would probably be late as usual, and Ayden had told her that he needed to stay a little late at work tonight. Everyone else would be on time or early.
Serena picked up her apartment, put the news on and sipped a cup of coffee in the kitchen. She zoned out, her thoughts wandering to tonight’s events. Would everyone be happy to see each other, would the food be okay, would anyone going to notice the distance between her and Ayden? Questions swam around in her head. It took the buzzing of her phone to draw her out of her swimming thoughts.
“Hey, u and I need to talk. Its important. Busy @work now, but I’ll txt u later.”

Serena sighed heavily. She stared at the screen. She didn’t know what to write and she didn’t know if she even wanted to write. Serena scrolled back and forth on her phone.
It buzzed again and startled her.
“Holla chica! Tonite’s din-din is gonna be awe-sum! Is it sad that I am more worried about what I am going to wear?”
Serena giggled at Viv’s text. Her sister was always more concerned with what she was going to wear than anything else, which could be a reason as to why she was always fifteen minuets late.
“Wear something cute. Who are you impressing? LOL. Be there ON TIME!”
Serena texted Viv back and knew that her sister probably wouldn’t respond for another hour or so. Viviane Greenwood’s head loved to live life in the clouds and Serena knew that and loved that about her sister.
Her phone buzzed again, probably another text. Serena knew who it was before she saw her inbox, but she didn’t have the energy or the heart to respond. She left her blackberry on the counter. It sat there gleaming and reflecting the sunlight. Serena realized then and there how much she actually hated that thing.
She left the kitchen feeling a little queasy. Serena needed something to do before the dinner tonight or else she was going to go crazy. She felt anxious and nervous and neither were ever a good combination.
*
Serena got herself ready for tonight’s dinner. Her anxiety and nerves calmed down. She looked at herself in the mirror; high brows arched over green eyes, muddy brown hair curled to perfection and pouty lips that got her, her way in most arguments.

She checked her hated Blackberry, no new messages and no emails. She never responded to her first text of the day and Viviane texted her back a smiley face that had its tongue sticking out. Serena braced herself, took a deep breath, and got ready to leave. She turned on lights in the hallway and in the bedroom. The sun was starting to set, but she knew that by the time she got back there would be no sun.
She left her apartment. She was too anxious to wait for the elevator. Her foot tapped in annoyance and Serena decided to just take the stairs. It was only three flights and she had walked more in heels before. Serena maintained her balance in her heels down the steps and got to the front lobby. She gave a curt head nod to the doorman and walked out onto the street.
Serena flagged down a taxi. A hurried yellow cab pulled over to the curb. Serena got into the back. The driver asked her where she wanted to go. Serena must have zoned out. It took the snapping of the cabby’s fingers to get her attention.
“Oh? What? Oh! I’m sorry. Twentieth and Bleaker.”
“Kay.” The cabby started the trek to the restaurant. Serena didn’t look out the windows. She didn’t want to have to watch her taxi merge into on-coming traffic.
*
The restaurant was in full swing by the time Serena got there. She had actually arrived late. That was a first in her life. She walked up to the hostess stand. “I have a reservation, Greenwood, party of nine.” The hostess scanned her list.
“Ah, yes, Ms Greenwood. Some of your party has arrived. We have you in the back room. Follow me this way.”

Serena followed the hostess. She heard laughter from the room. Serena entered the party room to see Viviane, Claire, and Yianni already there. Reggie and Bridget were also there. Claire noticed her first.
“Serena! Oh, my god! It feels like it has been forever since I last saw you! I miss you!” Claire gushed.
“I got here before you did. I actually got here before you did,” Viviane gloated.
“She walked literally into the room two seconds before you did,” Bridget said.
Serena smirked at her sister’s college roommate. She waved hello to Reggie and gave a head nod to Yianni.
“Where’s Ayden?” Bridget asked. They all took up seats around the circle table.
Serena shrugged her shoulders, “No clue.”
The friends began talking loudly. They brought up past trips and future trips.
Bridget and Viviane sang an old song from their failed attempt to join a sorority. The alcohol was passed around the room. Serena herself could feel it working magic on her.
She felt giddy and dizzy.
“You boozers would start drinking without me! Did you all forget that I am the pah-tay?” A new voice added to the mix.
“BEN!” Viviane and Bridget squealed. Serena made a face at Yianni. He rolled his eyes. They shared a look between them.
“Girls, girls, please! You are about to make the men in this room very, very jealous. But for the next thirty seconds, adore me with your love!” Ben wrapped his arms around them.

“What’s up, Serena?” Ben asked. Serena waved her hand at him and poured herself a glass of wine.
“Oh, I see, definitely start this party without me.” A newcomer entered the room.
“Why Neil, I never thought you would be the one to make other people feel guilty,” Serena said. Ben and Neil sat down at the table, and the wine and beer was passed around the table.
*
The night was in full swing when Serena noticed that Ayden walked into the room. There were empty bottles on the table. The laugher was high in the room. She was a little distracted. “Hey-lo, husband!” Serena slurred out. Ayden sat down at the table and nodded his head at everyone.
“Mhmm-kay, so since your husband is actually finally here, we can actually talk about this fantastic trip I am planning for us!” Viviane yelled out.
“How about we catch up first? Huh?” Serena countered her sister.
“Meh.” Viviane waved her hand.
The friends shared stories and caught up on what they had missed in each other’s lives. Serena and Ayden sat next to each other. They didn’t touch the entire evening.
They didn’t look each other’s way. There was no contact between the two of them.
Serena made eye contact with Yianni across the table. He shot her a questioning look.
Serena just moved her eyes to the next person. The alcohol in her system intensified her feelings. She felt extreme sadness. Earlier she was the happiest she has ever been in a while. Ayden walked through the door and her life is back to the depressing rut she drug herself out of for the night.

“You two aren’t touching one another,” Claire pointed out. Viviane nodded her head. The attention in the room shifted from Neil and Ben having a shot contest to the distant couple. Serena shrugged her shoulders.
“We’re just not touching. Nothing too big to be concerned about, “Ayden said. He sipped his wine and Serena fidgeted next to him.
“Lies!” Viviane pointed out. Serena shot her sister a heated glare. “Shut up Vivi.”
The friends looked at the sisters in confusion.
“Dude, what’s up?” Reggie asked. Ayden just shrugged. Serena gulped down a huge glass of wine.
“He’s not going to say anything. He’s going to continue living life in blissful ignorance. I can’t. I’m not happy,” she said.
“Right now or, like ever?” Claire asked.
“Ever. I hate my life,” Serena slurred out. The friends eyed each other. Ayden sat stonily next to Serena. She had enough of the staring. “What? I’m not happy. We hate each other.”
“What the hell happened? You two were like the happiest couple in the world,”
Yianni asked.
“I…I just can’t anymore,” Serena mumbled out. Tears were forming in her eyes.
“She cheated on me,” Ayden said. He got up from his place at the table. The room was the quietest it had been all night. Ayden collected his things from the table and left the room. The wake of silence screamed through the room. Everyone turned their eyes to
Serena. She sat stonily in her seat. She stared straight ahead at the wall, not making eye contact with anyone. The excitement in the room died. Everyone sat in silence.

*
Serena woke up the next morning with drums playing in her head. The sun was blaring through the windows and the normal comforting sounds of the cars were more of an annoyance than anything. Her cell phone sat on her nightstand. It blinked to let her know how many texts she got. Serena groaned and grabbed her pillow over her head.
*
It was afternoon when Serena woke up once again. Her phone blinked slightly more than it did this morning. She grabbed it and scrolled through her texts, Viviane asking if she was alright, if she needed anything. Claire texted her asking if she needed anything. Then she checked her voicemails. One was from Viviane and another was from
Ayden. He said that they needed to talk. He would stop by the apartment later, probably around three.
Serena checked the clock; it was two-thirty. She scrambled out of bed and rushed around to get herself together. Her head was pounding. She felt sick to her stomach but was too focused on her goal to make herself presentable. Serena rushed into the bathroom. She loaded her toothbrush with toothpaste and tried to rid her mouth of the god-awful smell.
Serena lost track of the time. She heard the doorbell ringing and then the key sliding into the lock. Ayden walked into the apartment. He didn’t look sad or angry, just resigned. He sat in the living room and stared expectantly at Serena.
“I…,” Serena started. Ayden shook his head at her.

“I really have nothing to say to you. We felled outta love, I see it now. Whatever happened pushed you away. But Serena I thought I had something to say. I really did, but all I want to do is leave. Just leave you here and be by myself for a while.”
“But you called! You said you wanted to talk to me. Talk to me!” Serena said desperately. Ayden got up from the sofa. He kissed her softly on the cheek and left the apartment. Serena stared at the door, willing him to come back.
She sat down on her sofa, grabbed the photo album and flipped through the pictures. She looked at the pictures of her being happy and wished she could go back to those times. Serena stared at the picture of her and Ayden’s first date. She felt the tears streak down her face. She didn’t stop them. Serena let herself cry. She cried for the lost happiness and she cried for the heart she just broke.

Shannon Moore
Short Story
Danny’s expression at that exact moment made me realize that what was happening wasn’t normal at all. His eyes widened with obvious concern. His lips had parted slightly, and his hands made subconscious movements toward mine. I couldn’t comprehend how one facial expression could send a surge of worry through my body as well. The environment I went home to every day was one I had grown accustomed to.
The fighting just provided background noise. The constant yelling and screaming were as common as my neighbor’s dog barking. I had never even thought it would seem startling to anyone. It seemed like every family had problems these days. Danny was pretty much the only person I hung out with on a regular basis. It’s not that I was scared to describe the relationship between my parents to anyone. In the middle of grabbing a cup of coffee with Danny, I just blurted it out like word vomit.
It was my mother whom I was worried about. I had lost my mother, not physically, but in the mental sense. This occurrence had come as quite a shock. It was like one day we were best friends and the next she was some zombie. She wandered around our large modern home in her silk robe, a drink constantly in her hand. She would cake on so much face makeup her skin would look unreal. It was only recently that I noticed she had started skipping work on a routine basis. Empty wine and vodka bottles started to clutter the house and filled the recycling bin every week. In a nutshell, I was worried. I felt helpless, like an immature child. She’s a 45-year-old woman after all. I’m not supposed to be the parent or the housekeeper. My father had fired Lucy, our maid. I think he was embarrassed. Still, he chose to ignore the situation, as if by doing so the problem would simply disappear. I can’t even begin to understand why some people

think this method is the best way to deal with tough situations. My father was hardly home anymore, and when he was, his harsh booming voice would echo through the house. Usually, this was directed towards my mother. I tried to stay out of his radar and ultimately away from the house when he was around. The thought of my mother all alone in her drunken state was the only thing that couldn’t keep me away. I felt the need to clean up after her and to do what I could to help her, even if I didn’t feel I could do much.
The situation was getting out of hand, and I had no idea where to begin. Each day, I looked for comfort and answers in a household where neither seemed to exist. Danny always wondered why I never chose to bring him around my house to hang out. Finally, he knew why.
“She needs help, Jan,” Danny whispered to me, as if his normal voice would be too much for my fragile state.
“She’s 45 years old, Dan,” I retorted. “She’ll get over it. She’s a grown woman.”
Danny sat there, silent. He stared at the ground, looking like he was contemplating whether he should dare offer more advice. He shouldn’t. I wasn’t feeling very open-minded. It was my parents’ fault after all. I was angry. Rage coursed throughout my veins. They were supposed to be adults; why did they let themselves get so out of hand?
“I should go,” I muttered.
I stood up and quickly made my way to my black Lexus parked right outside the coffee shop. Danny ran after me, his loose flannel shirt rippling in the frigid wind.
“Maybe we could talk about this. I’m here for you, you know. Come over later,”
Danny said sympathetically.

With one last glance at him, I slammed the car door and sped off back to the wasteland I called home. During the drive, I thought about how I had been so quick to push away Danny’s advice. I tried to believe what I had said, that my mom’s frequent drinking wasn’t a problem, just a phase. My mind wandered. I noticed the red Jeep stopping in front of me. The red paint was chipped and flaky on the edges, and the bumper was half missing. However, I imagined the paint shiny and smooth, the bumper whole and solid, just as it was the day the owner purchased it. The sound of a horn behind me jerked me out of my thoughts, and I drove forward.
I passed some cornfields. For some reason, I found myself pulling over to the side of the road and parking. The moon became more visible as the sun was setting. I began to sprint through the corn, twirling and thrashing about, cutting loose my feelings of stress and worry that I held inside. I was so scared to let them out, so frightened and embarrassed to let them show, even to Danny. I found a clear spot in the field and collapsed into the earthy soil, digging my toes into the moist dirt beneath me. The sky was a brilliant violet. To be here, surrounded by the pure beauty of nature, consumed me.
My worries at home seemed miniscule, just a dot on the Earth’s radar. However, this immense feeling of freedom only lasted for a moment, and then the conflict rose into my thoughts again. I couldn’t avoid it. I couldn’t ignore it. Sure, I had tried, but I realized being numb to the problems was just as bad as my father ignoring them. I lay back, remembering a day long ago when all was well.
It was a week before Christmas and Lucy had decorated every corner of the house with festive furnishings. The large artificial tree we put up each year stood, a shining beacon of light in our foyer. Presents had already started to accumulate beneath the tree.

My mother, my father, and I were all gathered around the tree in our holiday finest. A professional photographer, one of my dad’s friends, had offered to take our family picture for the annual Christmas card. I remembered wearing a red velvet dress, with an extremely itchy white faux fur collar. My mom had curled my hair and placed a bow of the same red velvet material as my dress in the mess of curls. She wore a sleek, formfitting red silk dress, while my dad sported a black suit. In the moment before the camera flashed, my parents looked at each other. I had been staring up at them, their arms around my shoulders. In that moment, they smiled and kissed. A look of pure love and adoration flowed between them. Although I was young, I could still feel the intensity of their gaze.
The feelings they shared were evident. I still remember the sparkles in their eyes and the genuine smiles on their faces. This memory seemed like a forgotten fantasy now.
As the sky grew darker, I decided to head home. It was a Tuesday, and my father would be working late at the office. Although, recently it seemed like he was always looking for excuses to stay later. However, I couldn’t blame him. My mother was a mess.
Our home was a mess.
As I pulled into the long driveway, which led up to my house, I noticed it was dark except for a faint light that belonged to my mother’s vast walk-in closet. I quickly parked my car in front of the walkway to my home, my curiosity intensifying with each second. Once inside, I mounted the marble staircase in our foyer. The house was filled with an eerie silence. This frightened me and sent chills down my bony spine. Our house was never silent.
“Mom?” I called out into the darkness.
There was no answer. I made my way down the hallway to my parents’ room.

“Mom?” I called again. It was clear I was conversing with no one.
As I approached my mother’s walk in closet, I caught site of an array of brightly colored stilettos lying in various positions on the cream colored carpet. Then I saw her.
My mother lay on the floor, her face a purplish red and her hands clutching her stomach.
At the sight of me she let out a tremendous groan. I rushed over to her side.
“Don’t worry Mom. I’ll help you up.” I couldn’t think of any other words to say to her. There were no words of comfort that came to my lips. I rushed her to the bathroom where I knelt down beside her, her face buried in the toilet. After a few moments, she heaved and vomit erupted into the toilet. The bathroom stank of vodka and throw up.
Downstairs, I heard the front door slam shut. The voices of my father and Danny could be heard. I didn’t have enough time to even wonder why Danny was in my house. The foul smell ascending from the toilet must have wafted down the hallway. Footsteps traveled upstairs.
As I flushed the toilet, my mother rocked backwards, her back running into the edge of the large Jacuzzi. She laughed and grunted. Then, her eyelids slowly shut. Her mouth fell slightly open as she let out heavy breaths, notifying me she had drifted off to a deep sleep. My father stood in the doorway. No anger was present on his face. Instead, he wore a look of sadness. His body seemed to glide towards my mother, his arms outstretched. Bending down, he enclosed my mother’s body in his arms and carried her to their master bedroom, where he placed her on her side on the large king bed. Her body was set at an angle atop an assortment of plush pillows. As he shut the door to their bedroom, he lifted his head. While staring into my dad’s ice blue eyes I could have sworn

that a solitary tear made its way down his well-pronounced cheekbone. Then again, perhaps, it had never been there in the first place.
I had almost forgotten Danny was there. He walked over, placing his hands on my shoulders. It made me feel surprisingly comfortable.
“Everything’s going to be okay,” he whispered.
“Do you promise?” I whimpered back.
“Promise.”
My mother was admitted into a rehabilitation center the following week. The house felt peculiar at first without having her around. So often, I was home alone. On one particular day, the rain poured down, creating a rhythm against the windows. My ears perked up as I heard a car engine outside my house. My father shouldn’t have been arriving home from work for another three hour. As I approached the stairs, I peered down them to the front door. The rain blurred the figure that stood before it. As the knob turned, the face of my father emerged into the foyer. He stood staring up at me for a moment, catching my gaze and holding it. I made my way down the stairs, and immediately, I collapsed into his comforting embrace.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so, so sorry, Janet. I was a coward in this situation. I need to start being a better father.”
He kissed the top of my head like he always did when I was a little girl. For the first time during this whole situation, tears flowed down my cheeks. The steady drops fell from my chin, spotting my father’s light blue polo shirt. Minutes went by as we stood there. After all this time, I could finally feel a connection with my father, and I knew
Danny was right. Everything was going to be okay.

A week later, my father took me to visit my mother. Rehab looked more like a resort than a place to guide people towards a healthy path. The building stood tall and grand like a mansion, complete with a large pool where residents lay sunbathing. When we arrived, we entered into a large lobby with white marble floors and marble tables. The chairs were a plush cream. We made our way to the front desk where an overly happy young woman greeted us. My mother sat by the window in a small armchair flipping through a magazine. Looking up and seeing us, she smiled. Her eyes crinkled and became moist with tears. She glided over, enveloping us with her thin fragile arms. We stood together for a moment, as a family. She pulled back for a moment, and I studied the details on her face. She had purchased a tanning bed the year before. However, she had been
Although I still wasn’t positive that I could trust my father’s word, he was all I had. In a way, I thought myself smart for questioning his sincerity. We grow up thinking that our parents are always right. In the end, it’s not always how things pan out.
Childhood is a distant memory, always growing farther and farther away from the present. As some of the memories fade from my mind, I will never forget the feelings that made up my childhood. As much as things have changed, as much as my parents have changed, I still remember my mother and father in that Christmas card. In the end, I realize that these changes are inevitable and imperative. It is this ever-present knowledge that encompasses hope within me and never ceases to move me forward.

Samantha Overstreet
My New Face
Hey, so you have decided to pick up my biography. I can't imagine why, unless you are into sad stories of people who don't even matter. My name is Madison. I guess while you are reading about me I might as well introduce myself. I attended Drexel
University for my undecided major. I run track so I am only going to Drexel because of my full ride. After every class I go to my dorm room and have a smoke, weed; I tend to do that more than cigs because I guess herbs are better than tar. But, however, now, I tend to need it more and more and I end up going to this bench where I am right now. Because
I still don't have a major, they still make me take every class to make me a well-rounded student, I guess. So, I just left my morning Lit class. I know I am definitely not going to be talking about stupid books. I have an idea of what I am going to do but I will never know. Well, I have to go to Statistics now, but I will be right back on this bench when I am done. See you in about two or three hours.
When I was in Stat, my mom called me and said that I should probably come home for this weekend. My dad is really sick; he has lung cancer, and the tar did it. My dad really is the one who understands me. He smokes just like me, and we both don't understand why we started, just accept it.
Girls here just don't get me. I guess I am a bit of a loner. When they hear I am from New York, they think I should club and party all the time. I have clubbed but it really never interested me too much. Clubbing just started me drinking heavily. I drink

every day. It’s just something I can do now that I am 21. The dorm is going to be pretty quiet with me in New York tomorrow, but I think they won't mind.
When I get home, my mother greets me with open arms and tells me how much she loves me. I can't wait till she shuts up cause I just want to see my dad. She never got it. She never got how and why I am the way I am. I tell her that I am happy to see her but
I am really tired. I go up to my old room to find that it hasn't changed a bit. The only difference is the inch of dust; I can tell she hasn't been in here for a while. I get changed, go to down to my dad’s room and just sit and talk to him.
The next day I go down and talk to my mom about my dad. She says that the doctor said that he only had a month left. Being with family, he said, usually they live longer. But, that might just be a myth. Today when I walked into his room to talk to him, it is as if each passing second he is rotting away. I know it won't be long before I never see him again. I tell him a lot about Drexel and he just nods his head. It is like I am talking with no one there. When I leave the room, I go up to my room smoke and go to sleep. Tomorrow I see that I need to go shopping for some new clothes’ cause this weekend trip is going to last all week.
When I enter the store, I see my ex; he is alone looking at jeans. I quickly try to pass by him and rush to the junior’s section. I see him walk right by me and then he sees me. I knew it. Now he is going to turn around and tell me how great he is and how much he misses me. Great.

"Madison, shit, is that you?" He looks at me with the same goofy smile he had when we went out, "Shit, girl, I haven't seen you in eight months. Howya been?"
"I have been good, I guess, you?"
"Good, yo, I got this new shit, try it." He hands me a needle and instead of the usually clear liquid, it is one ml of yellowness. He thought he must have been so cool to softly place this in my sweatshirt pocket while he was hugging me.
"What is it?" I say.
"Don't worry about it. I don't even know but I do know that it’s good. It will make everything feel better." He says, smiling, "Try it, or call me and we will both take a hit."
"Are you free tonight?" He tells me yeah and that he will text me tonight.
When he comes over, we go up to my room, he takes his pills, Oxy's, then I grab my one ml. My dad walking in isn't about to happen and my mom is off cheating somewhere. He tells me to slowdown and to relax. We watch old reruns on MTV and smoke. Dinner for us tonight will consist of weed, heroine, and Yuengling.
He looks up to me and kisses my forehead. All of a sudden I feel a rush of everything that was in our long three-year relationship.
His heads slowly moves to my ear and he whispers, "ready?" I look up to him with my big eyes and move my head down and whisper, "OK," into his gaged, pierced ears.
It doesn't take long before the drugs started to work. I couldn't feel anything. I felt so alive, no pain, no worries. He was right it does make everything better. The reruns on
MTV were so blurry and loud all of a sudden that it seemed as if the room was spinning. I

think about how him and I used to be and fall asleep and I dream again.
When I wake up he isn't there. I am lying on a lawn of a house unknown to me. I have no clue where I am I know I am still in my neighbor hood but where? There is dew on the blades of grass surrounding me. I rub my eyes and blink a bunch of times when I see the man talking to an old couple. I sit up and see his car, a cop car. I could see I was going to be in trouble now. The cop asks me to get into the ambulance if I can and tells me that I will be going to the hospital.
When I get to the hospital they put more drugs in me that I took last night. I am left to wonder why I am here. I have taken worse drugs and was fine. I guess now they are trying to get me un-addicted. I know that the cops will soon come in and ask me about last night and about Billy.
When the cops come into talk to me they tell me that last night they found a car that seemed like someone tried to break into it. He says all the windows were broken and the tires were popped. He also says that there was some stuff missing according to the owner of the vehicle. He asks me if I know anything. I just tell I cannot remember anything last night, which was really half true.
After three days of sitting in the hospital the cops tell me that I am mandated to go through at least one hundred hours of therapy and at minimum of one year in mental facility. My mother ends up convincing the court to let her drive me as long as she follows the guidelines. They say I can spend one hour at my house and my mother needs to get me to the hospital no later than three o’clock.

We don’t even say anything as we take our drive. I can see she is very upset.
When she drops me off I know that the shrinks are going to re-ask me everything they cops did. I also know that they are going to pump me with so many new drugs, yet again, that I am not sure how my body will react. I can see that I will be getting sick real fast. I know that I will have to talk to some guy who will think he knows me better than I do.
He will talk to me about me and have to act like he cares. I look at my phone and I see that Billy texted me.
"Yo, that was the best hit I ever had. Thanks girl." I quickly erase it and don't respond. I am scared if he texts me while I am at the hospital, he will get caught. I look at my phone and place it in my hands, open speaker side on my right hand, button side on my left. I close my eyes and snap it back. My mom is so busy looking at the road and talking on her phone that she doesn't even notice.
When we walk into the hospital, I can see people sitting and staring at nothing.
They are looking through the window, through the hills, looking dead center at the lives they used to have. Everyone here looks depressed. I am dreading this part, the depress stage of rehab. My mom looks me in they eyes after she signs me in.
"Good luck, sweetheart. I love you."
The nurse brings me into my room. I am stuck with a girl who is another one of those depressed state of mind people who stare out the window. The nurse shows me the closet, bathroom, and the string coming out the wall to pull if I get upset. She tells me that I will be under constant monitoring while I am in my room with the one exception while I am in the bathroom. The walls are all gray stone except for one with a long mirror. I guess when the cameras don't work, they can just sit and watch us through the

mirror. The nurse touches my arm and says she needs to give me something to combat the drugs. It’s the first day so I decide to not fight her.
I quickly fall asleep. Little did I know, I fell asleep on the wrong bed and when I wake up she is sitting right next to the bed, staring at me. She is sitting on her knees rocking back and forth. Her eyes are bloodshot, but they never blink, not even once.
When I look at her for a second time, I can see that her skin has cuts on it. She doesn't have a peachy color; her skin looks more like stone.
"Hi, I, um, I'm Madison." I have no idea what I should say or even if she will say something back. She just sits there rocking, staring at me, the girl who took her usual bed.
This is when a bell saves me. The door opens and a different nurse comes in, she says that it was time for lunch and that this is a time for me to stretch out a bit. I don't think twice about this opportunity. I quickly get up and walk towards the door. As I inch out the room, I look back to find her and say, "You coming?"
Looking at my roommate is like someone straight out of a horror movie. She is gray not fleshy looking like normal people. Her grey pants and shirt are torn and her hair is a whole different story. I feel bad for this girl. I know I should be helping her but I also know that is what all the nurses were doing anyway. All I can do is be nice to her.
When I return from lunch I see a tray on what I guess is my bed, the tray has a glass of water with a pill next to it. The girl of stone looks at me and says, "Don't take it." she blinks, and then says, "Don't drink the water either. The pill is in the water, too." I look at the water and see it is cloudy. She is right; I begin to wonder how long she has been in here.

"What should I do with it? I mean they will notice that I didn't take it."
"Go in the bathroom, flush them." I look up at the camera.
"Oh."
When I come out of the bathroom, I notice how skinny she is; her body is all bones. I can't find a piece of meat on her. Her cheeks are sunken in and she can't even walk right.
"How long have you been in here?"
"Don't worry about it."
"Well, what's your name?" I think that at least she can say something to connect with me if I ask her name.
"Alicia." She says to me as she looks up to me with her dark, bloodshot eyes,
"You?"
"Madison."
"So, Madison, what did you do drink too much? Smoke too much? Or do you cut yourself, kill someone?" As soon as she said that she grabbed my arms and looked at my wrists.
"Well, those are from a year ago, but, ah—’’
"Shit, girl, you know what’s good"
"No, my ex does, though." I look out the window, then look back at her. "Why are you here?"
"Like I said before, don't worry about it."
"What the hell, you asked me, now it is your turn, Alicia."
"You didn't have to answer."

"Yeah, well, I asked, so go"
"Got pregnant three years ago, my baby died, so I killed the father and left town."
"So why aren't you in prison?"
"Cause you don’t go to prison if you plead that you are insane or crazy, haha."
She trails off, laughing down the hall. I cannot help but wonder if she was joking or serious. I can definitely tell she has problems. As she was talking she was sitting backwards on a chair and tapping her feet. Here comes the nurse and she sticks my arm, and I lie back and fall to sleep while she is talking to me about only god knows what.
"Come on Madison, wake up" I look outside and see that it is pitch black. After what she told me yesterday I am not sure if I should be scared or not. "Come on, I have keys."
"What? Alicia! How the hell did you get those?"
"Don't worry about it. I am going down south. You coming with me?"
"I just got here Alicia. No!"
"You are gonna end up just like me. Just wait."
It doesn't take her too long to end her trip when as she opens the door a guard in a big black and yellow suit is at our door.
"Going anywhere, Miss Jacobson?"
"Shit, Tom you still watching my camera?”
"Yours is the most interesting Miss Jacobson." He takes her keys and begins walking away, "Now get some sleep girls." He comes back locks the door and then is gone. After her little trip I very quickly fall asleep.

The next morning I get a call from my mother that last night my father's cancer had run its course. She says that the funeral is to be Thursday, but I won't be permitted to attend. Once you are in here, you're stuck, I guess. Suddenly my face turns red, my eyes get tight, every muscle in my body gets really tight, and you can start to see the veins in my head. My father was the only one who understood me, and now that man is gone. I run into the bathroom and look for anything similar to a knife; if he is gone, I want to be to also. I run to where the lunchroom is because I know they have glassware. I grab a glass and I break it. I stab my wrist and cut deep down to my elbow.
Seven Months Later...
Over the past months Alicia and I have become very close. My wounds have healed and I am left with reminder scars of what happened. I do not regret what I did to myself because I know if given the chance, I will do it again. I have also learned why
Alicia was originally put in here and why after three years she is still in here. There is now another girl in our room and she doesn't talk at all. She just sleeps all the time. She doesn't seem to like anything; Alicia and I guess she is in here for depression. Alicia and
I, every day, go outside, walk, eat our meals, and do everything together. I feel like we both are helping each other and will be getting out soon.
“Madison, tomorrow.” Alicia looks into my eyes like she has been planning this.
“I have been planning this escape for three years and I need your help to do it. Please
Madison, I can’t do this alone.” I agree to this, although I have a feeling something might happen.

At about three in the morning she wakes me up and tells me to go into the bathroom with her. She says that she has the keys so we don’t have to worry about that.
The only things we need are a few of the needles that the nurse’s give us to knock us out.
Her plan seems simple enough; she even knows the bus times at a nearby bus stop. When we leave our room, there isn’t a guard or nurse in sight. The only problem now is the door guard. I go out first and talk to him while Alicia goes around and to get needles. She stabs him and gets his wallet. Seventy bucks and three credit cards should get us far enough. She takes them and throws his wallet on his chest and we run.
When we get out the front gates, we quickly sprint to the bus stop around the corner. The bus comes no more than five minutes after we get there. I quickly realize why we walked outside everyday. I realize that she had planned everything, where we were going, the bus, the needles, everything. We get on the bus and pay the fair and sit down.
We are on the bus for two hours before we reached Tennessee. The bus lets us off at an old motel that read, “The Pines Hotel, No Vacancy.” It is better than the grey walls and camera rooms at the crazy house. The room we had was really bright, yellow walls, orange bed sheets, and cable TV, a luxury I haven’t enjoyed in almost a year.
Our first night here was full of worry and guilt, worry about getting found and guilt towards my mom, whom I know I will never see again. We can hear a couple next door and owls outside. Tonight is scary. Tomorrow I hope we find a new place to stay.
When I wake up, I look over to the other bed at Alicia; I see she is still sleeping.
Her head is nestled in between two pillows and she looks like one of those dogs that just

take up the whole bed. I decide to go get a shower. Then I will go wake her up for our big day.
“Alicia, come on. Its time to go.” She still isn’t moving. “Come on, girl.” I go into the bathroom and get some cold water from the sink. “I said, wake up.” As I say this the ice cold water pours over her back. This is when I start to get scarred. She isn’t moving still after I pour the water on her. I touch her arm and she feels like stone; she is ice cold.
When I flip her over, she isn’t breathing and her eyes are open and bloodshot. She looks just like she did when I first saw her. I don’t know what to do: should I leave or should I call 911 and get caught?
I decide to call 911 to report a suicide, and as soon as I hang up the phone I sprint out the front door and I don’t stop running. I run past the shopping mall, the hardware store, and a park. I see families, just like I always wished when I was little, playing on the swings, just having fun with each other, like I never did with my family. A police car is in front of me and I freeze. This is what Alicia warned me about. She said, “If a pig ever sees you, keep running. Don’t stop and look at him. Just run, and fast, too.” And I am doing exactly what she said not to do, but my feet feel like magnets against the concrete.
I can’t run anywhere and I cannot even breathe.
One year later…
I started to see this psychologist that works at the rehab a few months ago. He actually does seem to care and I am really comfortable around him. I tell him about my father, Billy, and Alicia. I tell him how I miss Drexel and that I just want to go back to school. He said one thing about a month ago that really changed the way I thought. This was when I started talking to him about my dad. He said, “If you think about how close

you and your father were, you do know, Madison, that he would be so disappointed to see all that you have gone through in the past year.” I can still see his face when he said this and for some reason it just stuck. They say in two weeks they are going to release me.
They say that I am fit for society now. My mom has also been coming to visit along with my sister. She says that next year I can go back to school; it won’t be Drexel, but it’s something. Oh, yeah, and one day after I was done with my psycologist, I saw Billy walking into the hospital. He looked really bad and I can tell that there is something really wrong with him. When I saw him like this, it kind of made me think I should have told them where I had gotten the drugs so he could have cleaned up earlier and not be like this. He looks just like Alicia did and I hope they take care of him and quick.
So now that you are finished reading about how I screwed up, I want you to know that I honestly do think that after everything I have been through it changed me, for the better. If I never had these experiences, I would have gotten deeper and deeper into my depression and ended up just like Alicia. In all, it was definitely full of ups and more often downs, but, they say if you need to clean up, you have to make a bigger mess first so you can see all the pieces so it is easy to put them away. I think I put all mine away and I believe they will stay that way.

Danielle Sita
Short story
Hidden Pain
As she walks down Memorial Drive in Racine, Wisconsin, memories run through
Ronnie’s mind. She and her mother never really got along too well. There were always fights, name calling, and the usual slamming of doors. Alcohol was usually involved.
Ronnie and her father were always very close. He would always talk to her and let her know that she was loved. When she was 14, he died in a car accident. Everything went downhill from there. The fights with her mother escalated as her mother was drinking even more excessively. When at school, Ronnie didn’t talk to many people because she was different. While the other girls wore mini skirts and make-up, Ronnie wore torn up baggy jeans and T-shirts. She was a legit tomboy, which no one could understand.
Ronnie couldn’t put up with it anymore. Nothing was holding her down to stay, so at the age of 17, she left. She didn’t know where to go or have anyone to stay with, so she just decided to walk until she couldn’t stand anymore.
She shakes off the thoughts of what she left behind and turns her iPod on to full blast to block out everything around her. Very few cars are passing every couple of minutes. As Ronnie is walking along the side of the road, she lets the bottoms of her jeans scrape against the gravel and slosh through the puddles of yesterday’s rain. While
Ronnie is trying to tune out the world, a faded blue dodge truck is driving by and catches a puddle, completely soaking Ronnie. As she stops in her tracks, her eyes glare at the truck, yelling, “Are you freakin’ kidding me?” It keeps going, oblivious to the world around it. She is so fed up with people that she takes her backpack from her shoulder and

throws it to the ground, being sure to miss the puddles. Picking up the bag in frustration,
Ronnie begins on a trip to the nearest gas station.
It takes her about twenty minutes to make it to the BP Station. As she puts on her tank top, in the dim light of the public bathroom, Ronnie can see the purple and black mark on her left arm. It’s only been a few days since she got it and it still hasn’t started to heal. Her thoughts wander off to the past fight, the last one she’ll ever have with her mother.
*
“You are the one who killed your father. You were in the car too and it should have been you who died, not him. You are a worthless piece of crap who will never amount to anything!” Her mother took another swig from the vodka bottle as she moved towards Ronnie. Her eyes were glazed. “Nobody wants you because you’re useless and stupid!”
Ronnie walked away, tears filling her eyes. She didn’t want to show her mother any sign of weakness.
“Don’t you walk away from me! You look at me when I’m talking to you, you little bitch!” Then she heaved her empty bottle at Ronnie.
*

A single tear runs down her cheek. She puts on a jacket, covering up the nightmare beneath. Ronnie doesn’t bother to look in the mirror before she leaves the bathroom. In her mind she figures, what’s the point? She’s on the streets, just wandering around, so what good is image now, not like she ever cared anyway.
There are hotdogs and pretzels in the gas station, along with several drinks. The smell of the greasy food makes her stomach grumble, so Ronnie gives in and gets a hotdog and Coca-Cola. It’s not her favorite meal in the world, but it’s some form of food.
As she is leaving, a guy with light blond hair and blue eyes walks into the station.
He looks about the age of 19 and in pretty good shape. Completely not seeing Ronnie, he bumps into her at the door. At this point, Ronnie is just about fed up with everything, so she grunts, “Hey watch it.” There is no reaction to her snap. When she turns her head her, heart stops. Right in front of her face is the only car in the parking lot. It is, in fact, the same faded blue truck that had splashed her with water no more than an hour beforehand.
That was the same jerk that also bumped into her while she was leaving. Talk about rude?
Ronnie needs to figure something out, and fast. He is not going to get away with being a selfish jerk. After getting his pack of gum and water bottle, he makes his way to the door. Ronnie quickly gets on top of the hood of the truck. “Maybe he’ll notice me now.”
As he walks out the door, you can only imagine the look on his face. It is a mixture of shock and somewhat of interest. What is a young woman doing sitting on top of his truck? As he gets closer to Ronnie, there is a slightly confused smile on his face.
“Um... Hi? I’m John…. If I may ask, what are you doing on my truck?”

Ronnie plays dumb and checks behind her, as if he might have been talking to someone else. Looking back at John, she says, “Who, me?”
“Well, yeah. You’re kind of the only one sitting on my truck.”
“Wow! So I’m not invisible? Hmm… I was pretty sure I was, too. Darn, that’s a bummer.”
John is starting to get a little frustrated. “What are you talking about?”
“Hi, I’m Ronnie. Are you sure you’ve never seen me before?”
“Not that I can recall. What are you talking about?”
Ronnie narrows her eyes in somewhat of a glare. “Well, now, you really are oblivious. I remember you from earlier. As I was walking along the side of the road, you came along and soaked me. Also, not even five minutes ago you bump into me and said nothing.”
Now John looks more confused than anything else. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now if you don’t mind getting off my truck.”
“Nah, I think I like the view from up here.”
John starts walking more towards Ronnie and states, “That wasn’t a question.
Now get off!” He pulls her by her left arm. Ronnie cries out in pain as she pulls her arm back. John looks scared. “I barely even touched you.” He backs off a few feet as Ronnie slides down from the hood.
“You didn’t even have to.”
Ronnie starts to walk away, holding onto her bruised arm.
“Hey, where are you going?”
Now she starts to run, tears flooding her eyes.

*
It was a beautiful day out. Ronnie and her father were taking a drive. He had told her that he had a surprise for her. They were on their way to get Ronnie a puppy. A friend.
Out of nowhere, there was a car heading in the opposite direction. And fast.
Before Ronnie’s father had a chance to react, Ronnie screamed and put her hands over her head and leaned forward onto her lap.
The next time she opened her eyes, she was in a lot of pain. Looking around the bright room, she cared about nothing except, ‘Where was daddy?’ Only one nurse would tell her, “Daddy had to go, hunny. I’m sorry.”
*
John is driving along, looking for Ronnie. Beside him is her bag that she left next to his car. He just feels horrible, thinking that he has really hurt her. Most importantly, he is afraid of her going to the police and saying that he assaulted her. Stopping at a red light, he notices Ronnie’s bag fall over and a few of her things fall out of an open pocket.
Since there is no one behind him, he puts the car in park and picks up her things. There is some money, her ID, and her iPod. Being curious, John unzips the bag and starts looking through Ronnie’s stuff. He is very confused. “What in the world is she doing?” he says to himself. All that is in the bag are clothes, two pairs of jeans and a couple of shirts. One of

the shirts is somewhat wet. John’s stomach drops. Did he really pull a drive by and splash her with the puddle? Going through a little more, he finds only one other thing, a picture in a zip-lock baggy. He thinks to himself, “Smart girl.” In this picture is a young girl and what looks to be her father. On the back of the picture it reads ‘I Miss you Daddy.’
Feeling like a horrible person for even looking through her bag, John packs everything up and continues his drive to look for Ronnie.
*
Finding Ronnie lying at the stump of a tree, John pulls over and gets out of his truck. She is lying out, jacket off, letting the sun tan her arms.
“What are you doing here?” Ronnie snaps at him. She leans up so she can actually see him.
John walks around to the other side of the truck, opening the door so that he can get her bag out. Heading closer to Ronnie, he can see a large bruise on her arm. The same spot where not too long ago he had grabbed. Freezing in his tracks, he shows only one thing in his eyes, fear, as his gaze is fixed on her arm.
Realizing this, Ronnie quickly grabs her jacket to cover up the bruise. “Um, thanks for my bag back. You can leave now.” She doesn’t look at his face at all.
“Did…did I do that to you?” Not waiting for a response, John continues, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to. And I’m also sorry about soaking you this morning. Is there anything I can do to make it up to you?”

Ronnie is still hesitant. He really thinks that he caused the bruise. “Well, actually you didn’t cause this. It’s been there for a few days now. So you don’t need to do anything for me.”
“What are you?” John says blankly.
She looks at him, confused. “What do you mean?”
“Well, what are you? You don’t look like a hobo, but you seem to be living out of your bag.”
“You went through my bag! Why would you do that?” She is furious.
Stepping a little closer, he tells her, “Your bag was open and it fell over. Now answer my question.”
Ronnie doesn’t like talking about her personal life that has been so horrible for her these past few years. She is embarrassed about it and never talks about it with anyone.
Who would she talk with about it, anyway? “Don’t worry about it.”
“Fine, then why do you keep that picture in there?”
“Why do you want to know so much about me? You don’t even know me and you don’t have to know either.” Ronnie is getting scared. Everything inside her feels like it’s just going to explode. Who is this stranger and why? Why does he honestly care at all?
Just a few hours ago this guy didn’t even notice her, completely soaking her on the street.
Now he is trying to figure things out about her? But for some reason, Ronnie’s feelings are that she wants to get it out there and talk to him. She doesn’t even know why. Will it be a good thing to talk to him, a complete stranger? No matter who it is, it’s still someone, and anyone will be a good help, even if he is just there to talk at. The whole point of it is to get it out of your body and let everything out.

Not waiting for an answer from John she continues. “Well, okay. That’s my father. He died when I was fourteen. I was in the car with him and it all just happened so fast…I don’t even remember how it all happened.” Saying that makes her feel like twenty pounds just lifted from her shoulders. It feels so good.
John continues, asking her about her bruise and how she got it. Ronnie is still a little scared, but tells him anyway. She likes the feeling of being able to talk to him, and to feel like he is actually listening and that he maybe even cares. She hasn’t felt that in a long time.
Sitting down next to Ronnie, John listens as Ronnie continues to tell her story, all leading up to where she’s at today. John also likes the time spent with Ronnie. He met someone new and likes how he is able to talk to her. Sure, she was a pain in the butt in the beginning, but over all, he likes her.
Ronnie feels like this is a big change in her life. For the first time in many years, she is able to open up. She always believed that everything happens for a reason. Getting splashed by John occurred because she needed someone to open up to. John is that person she needed, and who she possibly still needs. Maybe he will even be the friend she never had.
Slowly but surely, she knows the pain from her father’s death is going away.

Jacquie Wilson April 26, 2010
Locked Up
I saw him in the distance getting searched outside of Lou Turks. It was a little blurry, not just because I don’t have perfect 20/20 vision, but because I was a little tipsy myself, which is why this all had happened in the first place. I was about two months pregnant at the time, and I know I was not supposed to drink, but being a very big partier, I couldn’t get myself out of that habit. It was just us five girls dancing on the counter top. Chuck never liked that, and when he saw me up there, he made a big scene. He was an animal even when he was sober, let alone when he was drinking. The bouncers couldn’t calm him down, and therefore the police were called. He has a problem with just letting things go. He was giving the cops a hard time and the cops did not have any time for him. I knew he wasn’t going to get by the searching part, but somehow he just kept going, until he was taken out in handcuffs.
I haven’t dated since high school. And having my belly pop out is not helping the situation (what so ever.) My girls are forcing me to go out tonight with some loser they just met at the bar last night. I don’t know why, but I’m just attracted to the bad boys; they were just more fun. There is a group of five of us.
Jade, Mel, El, Brooke, and me. We always had boyfriends, all of us, but for some reason they never liked mine. They always said they were such assholes to me and I could do so much better. They would always try to set me up with all sorts of men that are just not my type.
“Jill, you ready? We’ll be in the car,” Jade screamed.
“Be right down,” I answered.
We were meeting their boyfriends and Bill at Lou Turks. I didn’t want to go there at all; it brought back so many good, and bad, memories. All I could think about was Chuck, until I walked into that bar and

saw Bill. He was tall dark and handsome. He caught my eye, even though he did not have tattoos and piercings all over his body. He was very clean cut and for some reason, I liked it.
*
I could only see Chuck peering through the little glass window back at me. Even though he wore his little orange jumpsuit, I still thought he looked cute. As I was given the phone to talk to him I felt something weird, and the next thing I knew I was in the back of one of the cop cars speeding down the highway with his sirens going a mile a minute. I was only about eight months pregnant, my water was not supposed to break this early, and I was by myself. They wouldn’t even let Chuck come with us. I called Bill in the car and as soon as we arrived he was waiting anxiously outside the hospital. I made him come into the room with me and he was so good about it. Carson came out after about twelve and a half hours of contractions. Eight pounds ten ounces. What a big baby. I couldn’t wait for Chuck to see him. He looked exactly like him.
After a few days we were released. Bill had come to visit here and there. I wouldn’t have gotten through it without him. When I returned to my apartment Carson’s whole nursery was put together, with a card left in his crib. All it read was “I hope you like it. I’ll be over soon. Love, Bill.”
*
Chuck is supposed to get out any day now, and I still didn’t mentioned anything about Bill to him.
I know he would go crazy if he hears. I cannot have him find out, and I should break things off before it gets any more serious.

*
The doorbell rang and Bill came running in. He was so excited to play with Carson. He juggled more presents in his arms, dropped them and went right into his room to wake him up. I fell asleep on the couch while Bill was singing lullabies to Carson.
Hours later I woke, only to find Carson sleeping on Bill’s stomach in the living room. I picked him up slowly and placed him in his crib. Bill flinched quickly and soon his eyes were open.
“I better go now, Nicole. It’s getting late,” Bill said.
“Okay,” I replied with a sad face. Even though I wanted him to stay the night, it was too soon.
As soon as he left the phone rang. It was Chuck. I knew I should have told him the truth about Bill and everything, but I couldn’t. It was too hard for me. He informed me that they weren’t letting him out for a week because he didn’t wake up on time today. After I was done screaming at him, we said our goodbyes, and soon I passed out.
I didn’t get enough sleep that night, due to Carson crying every five minutes. Bill came over bright and early the next morning with breakfast sandwiches for the two of us. When Carson cried from his crib,
Bill went to get him. The door burst open and all I could hear was “Surprise”; it sounded like Chuck’s voice. When I saw him come through the door, it was kind of a bittersweet moment. I was excited and disappointed at the same time. I was really falling for Bill, and if Chuck saw him he’d kill him. He gave me a big bear hug for five minutes and then asked where his boy was. Walking into the nursery, he found Bill holding his baby. I could see the anger erupt in his eyes. He looked at me and then grabbed Carson from him. Shoving him in my arms, he stomped over to Bill. It was only a little argument at first and then it started to get a little out of control. I mean, Chuck’s a big guy, but Bill was holding his own. I knew I

shouldn’t call the cops I mean, Chuck just got released today, but when Bill fell to the ground, I knew it was time to call 911.
The cops and ambulance arrived in about five minutes. They took Bill in the ambulance and
Chuck in the cop car. What else is knew? I knew Chuck is the father of my son, but it’s just getting a little old. I need someone to take care of us and be a real father, and I’m afraid Chuck won’t be able to fulfill that.
Carson and I met Bill at the hospital that afternoon. He was hurting pretty bad, but he wouldn’t show it. Chuck called my cell while I was there. He demanded I tell him everything about Bill. I still just didn’t feel right telling him everything. I told him that I would talk to him when I saw him in person and that this situation should not be discussed over the phone. I hung up to him screaming, “Wait”. I can’t stand him anymore; he needs to grow up, so immature. Bill had a few scrapes and a minor concussion. I felt so bad, like it was my fault I brought him into this mess.
*
Bill gets out of the hospital today. We are going out to lunch, just the three of us. It’s so much less drama without Chuck.
*

Chuck’s court date was today. Part of me wanted him to be taken away for good in cuffs, but the other wanted him to stay with me. I kept going back and fourth with him and Bill. Bill is so sweet and nice.
He could provide more for Carson, and me, but Chuck is the father of Carson, and I just knew him better.
*
When I got the call that morning, I was sadder than I ever thought I’d be. He was sentenced for another year. I guess the judge just made my decision for me. I couldn’t keep waiting for him. I had to move on with my life, not just for me, but for my son as well.