Sunshine Notebook by Abigail Rater

Biblical Friendship

Why did God make friends? What does it mean to be a friend? Friendship is when two or more people care about each other and spend time together. Good friends are always there for each other, but there are also many instances in life when so-called “friends” betray us, or lead us into sinful situations. What does it really mean, then, to be a good friend?

1 Thessalonians 5:11 says, “Therefore encourage one another and build each other up, just as in fact you are doing.” This verse is speaking to a body of believers, saying that they should encourage one another because they’re made alive in the hope of Christ’s salvation. As Christians who are saved, we should always build our friends up with encouraging words, even if those friends aren’t fellow believers. Since we have this hope in life, it’s important to share it with the people we care about. This doesn’t always have to be something big, either. Being kind and positive towards your friends in small matters is enough.

Another important part of friendship is honesty. Have you ever seen those videos on TikTok comparing friends to best friends? The friend will ask if something looks good on them, and the person will say it does, but when the best friend askes, they get a “No, go change.” These videos are exaggerated, and they’re supposed to highlight the fact that best friends are comfortable enough with each other to joke around, but they also show that people are more honest with their closest friends. No, you don’t always have to tell your friend they look stupid (even if they do), but you should be open with each other and honest about what you think and feel. 1 John 3:18 says, “Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth.”

Jesus gave us the greatest example of what it means to be a friend: “Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends” (John 15:13). We should always follow His example when attempting to be a good friend. 1 John 3:16 puts it clearly: “This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. And we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers and sisters.” The truth is, we’re never going to be able to do this perfectly. No matter how hard we try, there’s always going to be some area where we fail, some issue we’re too small to fix, some step we’re afraid to take. The trick to being a good friend isn’t doing it all perfectly, but following Christ’s example as closely as we’re able to and turning to God to heal what we can’t. Christ died on a cross to forgive the sins of those who believe in Him. By doing this, He saved us. Ultimately, God is the best friend any of us can ever have. All we can do is follow His example.

Friendship can be difficult. Being a good friend means being encouraging, honest, and following Christ’s example. Ultimately, being a good friend means trusting in God when we fail, and leading our friends to do the same. Proverbs 18:24 reads, “One who has unreliable friends soon comes to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother.”

Is it Ok to Spend Time Alone?

Do you ever just want to be alone? It's not like we crave loneliness, particularly, but sometimes people can be overwhelming. Sometimes we want to let loose by ourselves. Similar to how it's uncomfortable having someone watch you sleep, many find it difficult to fully relax when there are other people around. As a result, they like to spend time alone. This alone time is beneficial to the person, but it might mean doing less to help those around them, or not seeing loved ones as much. As a result, some people feel guilty for spending time alone. Does God really frown upon alone time, though?

God is a loving Father. Fathers always want what's best for their children, and God is no exception. Our heavenly Father wants what's best for us. Another indisputable fact is that some people need to be alone to recharge. Because of the fall, people need rest, and God designed us to do that in different ways. Human nature is deeply flawed, which is why we get tired in the first place, however, God doesn't have anything against the natural way we counteract this tiredness. Jesus even says specifically that He wants us to rest in passages like Matthew 11:28-30: “Come to Me, all of you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. All of you, take up My yoke and learn from Me, because I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for yourselves. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.”

You might be thinking that the above verse doesn't apply, because Jesus was speaking of coming to Him, not hiding away by ourselves. The truth is, for a Christian, the two things aren't far apart. The Holy Spirit is always with us, so even when we're alone, He's still with us. Obviously there's a difference between coming to God in prayer and just lying in bed and staring at Facebook, but God is with us through it all. Psalm 139:7-8 says, "Where shall I go from your Spirit? Or where shall I flee from your presence? If I ascend to heaven, you are there! If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!"

God is always with us, and we were actually created to serve Him. This means that we don't live our lives for other people. We live them for God. One way we serve God is by serving others; helping them out and brightening their days. Another way to serve God, though, is to take care of the body and mind that He's given us. Oftentimes this means taking some time by ourselves. Of course, the main way we praise God is directly; by talking to Him, reading His word, and spreading the gospel. Our calling does require us to have contact with other people to some extent. In fact, Christian fellowship is very important. Still, there are many aspects of serving the Lord that can be done alone and even work better that way.

Throughout the Bible, people have talked to God and met with Him when they were otherwise alone. In the Old Testament, Abraham and Mosas were by themselves when speaking with God. After receiving His message, they'd pass it on to others. In the New Testament, Jesus Himself went off alone to pray. "Very early in the morning, while it was still dark, He got up, went out, and made His way to a deserted place. And He was praying there" (Mark 1:35).

Alone time in itself is not bad. It is a valuable tool given to us by God for rest. As important as it is to spend time with others, it's also important to take care of our bodies and minds. Ultimately, our purpose is to serve God. As people, we could stand to spend more time in God's word and less time doing anything else we may want to do alone, but even these things aren't sinful. The most important thing is to balance the way we spend our time, taking rests alone when we need it, and making room for God in our day.

Fantasy Vs. Reality

Don't you love getting lost in a good book? Isn't it fun to text back and forth with your digital friends? Do you enjoy putting headphones on and letting yourself be transported to a different world through music? Maybe you're online playing video games or watching a video of your favorite celebrity. Besides being enjoyable, these activities all have something in common. Digital friends, celebrities, books, games, and music all take us out of the ordinary reality that’s right in front of us. They do this either by connecting us to something or someone miles and miles away, or by opening the door to an entirely fictional world. It’s undeniably fun to get lost in these fantasies, but can it go too far? At one point does a temporary escape from reality become a disconnection from the real world?

In the twenty-first century, it isn’t uncommon for someone to have friends that they’ve never personally met. Thanks to social media and online gaming, individuals who have never met can communicate with each other and form friendships. There are many benefits to this. Online friendships are often easier to start than in-person ones, as many people tend to be more outgoing online than they are in person. They’re more likely to reach out, and once they do, a bond can often grow faster than it would in person, as it’s easier to discuss serious topics and personal issues over text. An article posted on Psychology Today states that, "Another benefit of online friends is the freedom we feel to share information with those that we are unlikely to ever meet in person as we don’t fear later shame or that feeling of ‘retroactive embarrassment’ . . . We are unlikely to be seeing this person on a frequent basis, so we won’t be reminded of our vulnerability and personal revelations. Our ‘confessions’ are limited to a containable space and shared with people we actually never have to engage with again, if we choose not to," (Degges-White). While this is a true benefit, the flip side is that you don’t need to be committed to an online friendship. It’s easy to lose friends made online, as they can easily block you or switch accounts, or disappear for months with no explanation. A connection may be built through self-disclosure online, but that doesn’t mean that the other party feels that connection as keenly, or that the connection will last. Of course, this can also be the case with real life friendships, but it’s a lot harder to leave a friendship that’s been built up over a long period of time, and it’s difficult to avoid someone who you could easily run into at the grocery store.

Even if an online friendship is felt genuinely on both sides, that doesn’t necessarily mean it would work out in real life. Quoting the same article as above, "The three most common ‘motivating factors’ for friendship development include shared interests, shared activities, or proximity," (Degges-White). When building friendships online, the focus is mainly on this first factor: shared interests. However, a person’s life isn’t usually encompassed in just one interest, and they might even grow out of this thing they enjoy which originally sparked conversation. Some online friendships can withstand this change as they grow and develop, however, there are times when the entire connection relies solely on this one interest. In addition, people have complete control of what they share online, and so they can very easily hide some aspect of their personality, an aspect that could potentially end negotiations for a real life friendship. Basically, when you meet someone over the internet, you might not be meeting the full person. Again, this can happen offline as well, but it’s much easier behind a screen.

An article on The Guardian points out: "The expectations that online friends have of one another are also different. I am more understanding of the fact that a virtual friend has a whole life outside our friendship. My online friends can pick up their phone, be there for me and then put their phone (and me) back down afterwards," (Floyer). If these boundaries are understood, digital friendship is a beautiful thing. It’s a way to easily communicate with others about shared interests or everyday struggles, and maybe learn new things about different people or cultures. That said, online friends can be disappointing when too much is expected of them. The same article comes to the conclusion that individuals should have a healthy balance of online and offline friendships.

Following a celebrity online is similar to an online friend in that it's someone far away that you feel a connection to over the internet. The difference, however, is that this connection is one-sided, as most celebrities have no idea you even exist. This can result in a parasocial relationship if someone gets too obsessed with a favorite celebrity, however, appreciating someone's talent or beauty and even feeling as if they're one of your friends isn't unhealthy in itself. Celebrities can have a wonderful impact on their fans, teaching them important lessons and acting as a positive influence, or a comfort during difficult times. It doesn't need to be a two-way friendship, as long as it isn't substituted for that type of interaction.

Following a celebrity isn't always a good thing, though. Celebrity Worship Syndrome is a condition where someone is so obsessed with a famous person that it affects their daily life in a negative way. This is when the obsession begins to prevent real-life experiences. The condition often brings narcissism with it as well. Celebrity Worship Syndrome is thought to be caused, or at least helped along by, preexisting mental health issues. Instead of turning to celebrities for happiness, people with mental issues should turn to those around them for real help (Maltby, John, et. al.).

Even when it doesn't become a disorder, following celebrities can often cause other problems for young people. Celebrities can be a positive influence, but they can also promote dangerous or unhealthy activities such as smoking, drugs, and extreme diets. Furthermore, while some celebrities are very open about body image and mental health issues, others can be very damaging to the confidence of young people. Studies show that about 80% of teenage girls compare the way they look to celebrities. Of this number, about half of these girls feel bad about how they look in comparison (Mannino). Celebrities present an overly-perfect and highly stylized version of themselves that everyone wants to look like, but few actually do. While following celebrities can be wholesome and fun, it can also do psychological damage to young people if it goes too far or is focused on the wrong things.

Sometimes if it’s a musician someone is obsessed with, the focus isn’t on the celebrity as much as it’s on their music. Like people who are far away, music can connect us to other people’s reality. It can also create an entirely new fantasy world. Many people use music as an escape, as it has been shown to increase positive feelings. It’s scientifically proven to preserve pathways in the brain that make people happy. In fact, music activates your entire brain, preserving numerous important pathways that would otherwise be weakened by lack of use. That said, listening to the wrong music can be damaging, as certain music has been found to increase angry feelings and violent behavior. Music can be counterhelpful if it distracts from important activities that require a high level of concentration, but it can also aid in productivity. Whether music is helpful or harmful to an activity depends on the activity and the listener. Overall, music is beneficial in its place, and actually aids the mind in many ways. Still, the wrong music at the wrong time can do more harm than good to an individual.

Video games actually help the brain in many ways, similar to music. Despite this fact, certain circles still regard video games in a negative light. This is because of the problems that occur when a video game becomes an obsession. Besides taking away from real life, a gaming addiction can cause problems with sleep and mental health, and could cause one to gain unhealthy weight. Like with music, the wrong games can also promote violent behavior. Despite these issues, there are many benefits to gaming. It’s actually wonderful exercise for the brain, and helps with problem-solving skills and planning. In addition, gaming can increase an individual’s hand-eye coordination as well as their reflexes. Online games can also provide the chance to connect with an entire community of gamers, besides simply being a fun way to relieve stress. An article on the subject by Andrew E. Budson concludes, "In short, playing video games can be fun and a social activity when integrated into a healthy lifestyle that includes plenty of sleep, exercise, and good nutrition, rather than letting the game become your life," (“Why is Music”).

Unlike games, books are commonly accepted as beneficial. There is some bias against certain novels, but most reading is considered good. Reading fiction is certainly a worthwhile activity, and the action of taking in words is beneficial to the mind. Still, even reading has its downsides. Some books may contain scenes or ideas that are harmful or inappropriate; it’s never a good idea to insert this into your mind. The main problem, however, comes when reading interferes with the responsibilities and enjoyment of life. One article puts it this way: "Living in a world of dreams populated by fictional characters, readers miss out on the enjoyment to be found in real life and real people," (Dali).

The push and pull of fantasy and reality is capitalized in a certain psychodramatic technique, the magic shop. To start off, psychodrama is defined as, "A method of group psychotherapy in which participants take roles in improvisational dramatizations of emotionally charged situations," (“Psychodrama”). The magic shop in particular is an imaginary storefront where the therapist plays the shopkeeper and customers can purchase certain traits or behaviors instead of actual objects. The shopkeeper guides the transaction, and through the process customers learn what they really need to change in themselves; what qualities they have too much of, and what ones they need more of. The idea is to leave the exercise with a better understanding of who you are, and to apply the imaginary trades and purchases to real life.

Leni M. F. Verhofstadt-Denève divides the magic shop into several steps. First is the warm up, where the therapist playing the shopkeeper describes the shop. After reflecting on the imaginary shop's appearance, the shop opens. Customers enter the shop in search of a certain quality, and they do a skit, or mini-drama, which demonstrates why they need the quality. After the skit, customers return to the shop and “try on” the quality, which leads to another mini-drama with the quality. After that they return to the shop and negotiate what could be given for this trait, or which trait may be a better fit than this one. Once a decision is reached, the imaginary transaction is made and the customers return to the main group to reflect. Once the shop closes, the group as a whole discusses together and shares what they learned or received from the magic shop (“The ‘Magic Shop’ Technique”). This exact format might not be followed by everyone who uses this exercise. Some magic shops may be more relaxed than others, but the general procedure remains the same.

Fantasy is the foundation and driving force of the magic shop. Earl Koile puts it this way: “Fantasy is a prime source of creative and innovative thinking and behavior. Fantasy can break us out of the prisons of conformity, fixed and rigid ways of thinking and being, and can lift us to new ideas and more imaginative alternatives in dealing with “real” problems and in arriving at solutions and resolutions. Fantasy not only allows but also nourishes thoughts and feelings that may be against the rules or represent forbidden territory,” (“The Magic Shop: The Therapist”). Fantasy gives free realm to explore the uncharted, to see our issues in a different light. When we feel stuck on a problem, it often helps to view the issue differently, and this is exactly what fantasy allows us to do.

Even with a very basic understanding of the magic shop technique, it’s obvious that self reflection must take some role. As it turns out, there are six dimensions of self that come into play in several areas of psychology, including the magic shop. The six dimensions are self-image, ideal-self, alter-image, meta-self, ideal-meta-self, and ideal-alter. These represent how you see yourself, who you’d like to be, how you see others, how others see you, how you’d like others to see you, and who you’d like others to be, respectively. An article cited above states four actions of the magic shop that help people to understand the different dimensions: “(1) The activation of self-reflection on the six Self-Dimensions; (2) a growing awareness and integration of interdimensional and intradimensional oppositions, and discovery of alternative interpretations of oneself and one's environment; (3) the recognition and acceptance of existential conditions; (4) a strengthening of self-confidence through self-appreciation and positive evaluation by significant others," (Verhofstadt-Denève). Basically, the magic shop allows participants to see themselves more accurately by targeting specific psychological dimensions. The magic shop encourages self-reflection over who we are in relation to everybody else. It also draws attention to different interpretations of the same people as well as conditions that exist beyond argument. Finally, the exercise strengthens self-confidence through a positive and appreciative environment.

There are several ways in which the magic shop represents a balanced scale. It is a serious exercise, however, humor is often an integral aspect, as the exercise is performed in a lighthearted group setting. "Although the actual implementation of the magic shop may differ considerably among authors, they all proceed on a common basis, notably a remarkable combination of playfulness and seriousness, humor and pain, of dream and reality, which constitutes the distinctive healing power of this psychodramatic technique," (Verhofstadt-Denève). Balance can also be seen throughout the steps of the exercise, particularly in the mini-dramas, which are exaggerated. “The reality of the situation is not as dire as it was in the first drama and not as delightfully harmonious as in the restructured one. Real life is somewhere in between and can be considered as the integration of the two extreme mini-dramas," (Verhofstadt-Denève). A third form of contrast and balance in the magic shop is between differing qualities. “To the extent that someone is a particular kind of personality, he or she is not some other, different personality. To the extent that we have some outstanding, positive personal traits, we will also lack other particular personal traits,” (Barbour). To become one thing, we often need to give up something else, since nobody can be everything at once. The purpose of the magic shop is to evaluate the importance of all of these qualities and decide which are most important for any given individual. In any case, the magic shop is full of games between opposing forces.

While the Magic Shop is just pretend and nothing is actually bought or sold, the problems being talked about are very real, and the qualities given to fix them are indeed needed. The only step left is to learn to use the "purchased" traits. Although this exercise isn't guaranteed to make a difference beyond the time when it's performed, if the lessons learned don't transfer into real life, it isn't a Magic Shop at all, but just a decorated game of pretend. In other words, the Magic Shop is really the bridge between fantasy and reality at its core. The solutions wouldn't be reached without pretending, but they wouldn't be of any use if not taken back to the real world.

To sum it all up, there are many fun activities that transport us out of the world right in front of us and into a different reality. Things like digital friends, celebrities, music, video games, and books can be beneficial to many areas of the mind and of life, but they can be harmful if they become an obsession. How can this be avoided? The answer is shown in the magic shop: fantasy is helpful when used as a means of learning, and when we take the lessons with us back into the real world.

Works Cited:

“Are Online and Real Life Friendships the Same? How the Internet makes a Difference.” Regain, BetterHelp. 17 May 2023. Web. 17 May 2023.

Avramova, Nina. “How Music Can Change the Way You Feel and Act.” CNN Health, Cable News Network. 20 Feb. 2019. Web. 21 May 2023.

Barbour, Alton. “Purpose and Strategy Behind the Magic Shop.” JGGPS–Fall 1992, JGGPS. 1992. Pdf. 16 May 2023.

Barone, Ryan. “Yes, Video Games are Good…For Your Mind and Body.” iD Tech, iD Tech. 8 Jan. 2023. Web. 22 May 2023.

Budson, Andrew E. “Why is Music Good for the Brain?” Harvard Health Publishing, Harvard Medical School. 7 Oct. 2020. Web. 21 May 2023.

Charrani, Bader, et. al. “Association of Video Gaming with Cognitive Performance Among Children.” National Library of Medicine, National Center of Biotechnology Information. Oct. 2022. Web. 22 May 2023.

“Connection Between Celebrity Worship Syndrome and Teen Mental Health.” Newport Academy, Newport Academy. 6 Apr. 2021. Web. 19 May 2023.

Dali, Keren. “On the Dangers of Reading.” NoveList, EBSO. 1 Aug. 2014. Web. 23 May 2023.

Degges-White, Suzanne. “Do Online Friendships Differ From Face-to-Face Friendships?” PsychologyToday, Sussex Publishers. 29 May 2020. Web. 17 May 2023.

Floyer, Yasmina. “‘I was Lacking Deeper Connections’: Can Online Friends be the Answer to Loneliness?” The Guardian, Guardian News and Media Limited. 17 Sep. 2022. Web. 17 May 2023.

“How Celebrities Influence Teens and Why it Matters.” Newport Academy, Newport Academy. 28 Aug. 2022. Web. 19 May 2023.

“How Video Games Can be Beneficial for the Brain.” MAX-PLANCK-GESELLSCHAFT, MAX-PLANCK-GESELLSCHAFT. 30 Oct. 2013. Web. 22 May 2023.

Koile, Earl. “The Magic Shop: The Therapist Masquerades as a Shopkeeper.” Voices: Spring 2011, Voices. 2011. Pdf. 16 May 2023.

Maltby, John, et. al. “A Clinical Interpretation of Attitudes and Behaviors Associated With Celebrity Worship.” The Journal of Nervous and Mental Disease, PubMed. Feb. 2003. Pdf. 19 May 2023.

Mannino, Brynn. “TODAY/AOL ‘Ideal to Real’ Body Image Survey Results.” Today, Aol. Feb. 2014. Web. 19 May 2023.

“Psychodrama.” Dictionary.com, Dictionary.com. Web. 16 May 2023.

Verhofstadt-Denève, Leni M. F. “The ‘Magic Shop’ Technique in Psychodrama: An Existential-Dialectical View.” The International Journal of Action Methods: Psychodrama, Skill Training, and Role Playing, Volume 53, No. 1, Heldref Publications. 2000. Pdf. 16 May 2023.

My Beads

“Who are your friends?” they ask.

Really, it’s a short list.

Still, every name is special,

A bead upon the string,

The string around my wrist.

We never did wear bracelets.

Our necklaces got lost,

No symbols to be seen.

Life’s the only string we’ve got.

K has always been there,

My leader, everything she shares,

A silver bead, the centerpiece.

A stood up for me,

Strength and care she shows,

A maroon bead that glows.

A and E don’t go too deep,

Still, excited fun we seek,

A sunlight bead of happy.

S is one who writes like I do,

He inspires me to try things new,

A cerulean bead who encourages me.

L and M have come and gone;

In distant past, R and J slipped away.

Still, their colored beads remain.

I’ve got these beads upon my wrist,

And if I had only one wish,

I’d repay all of their friendship

And give them only happiness.

Ghosts Have Souls

Darkness. I couldn't bring myself to move.

"You alive?" That was Jesse.

"No, I'm a ghost."

"Ghosts have souls; you do not."

"I will haunt you."

Silence.

"What's going on?"

"Just–everything is so uncertain, and–"

"House rule eight: no hyperbole. Not everything."

"Name one thing that isn't falling to shreds."

"Those curtains seem solid. And… we're solid. You've got me, right?"

"That was cheesy," I deadpanned.

"Fine, I won't comfort you."

"Jerk."

"Idiot."

I couldn't help smiling.

"Now help me get the cake off of the ceiling."

"Wha–"

I Love You

Sometimes, “I love you,”

Sounds like, “Don’t work too hard.”

Sometimes it sounds like,

“Let me help you.”

“Stay safe.”

“You look pretty today.”

“It’ll all be ok.”

“I like when you relax.”

“You’re my comfort.”

“Who else would I tell this to?”

“You’re such a big doof.”

“I love you,” sounds like

Wordless hugs,

Useless gifts,

Inside jokes,

Sugary snacks,

Warming hands,

Pats on the back.

“I love you,”

Is watching out for the other;

What makes them smile,

The needs they don’t voice.

No matter what,

Love is a choice.

It isn’t just the words we say,

But the things we do,

Every day.

Sometimes, “I love you,”

Sounds like something else.

Two of a Kind

We’re two of a kind, you and I,

Living in both the day and the night.

We each have two modes:

Quiet and loud.

We feel so much more

Then the rest of the crowd.

Our emotions are on a different level.

They’ll never understand.

We value little things in life,

Sweet flowers in our hand.

We want to be a light,

Do all that we can do.

Warm, gentle, and caring,

Yes, that’s me and you.

We’re both so active in spirit,

We just have to let it out,

Try all different things,

Be creative now.

We are the old souls

In our deepest contemplations,

And the most youthful children

In our wonder and our actions.

We are love and light,

Soft, calm comfort,

Blazing fire of compassion,

Vibrant hues of life.

We are contradictions,

Complex mazes of the mind.

Yes, that’s us,

We’re two of a kind.

Shattered Glass

Most stories start when the main character’s life falls apart. Not this one. My life is great. It’s me who’s falling apart. Most main characters have a special spark. I’m a whole dumpster fire. This is the story of a girl who doesn't know anything about anything trying to do everything.

I feel pathetic, sitting on the garage floor and sobbing uncontrollably. I don’t know what’s happening. My dramatic mind keeps wondering if this is an anxiety attack or a mental breakdown. My rational side insists that it isn’t. But I’m scared. Like, really scared. My head is pounding, but it’s more pressure than an actual headache. The world is shaking.

My breath sounds like an ocean in my ears. There are about sixteen coded monologues crossing paths in my head. I can’t distinguish one from another, but they all have the same general tone. Why can't I handle simple things? Why am I freaking out like this over nothing? Do I always have to be so

miserable? I'm ruining my childhood. I'm letting my family down. “I’m worthless,” I whisper. The words feel too dense for the air, falling to the cement floor like bricks. Maybe because I said it out loud, or the intense emotion just ran its course, but either way I begin to calm down, my tattered breath returning to normal. I look up and unclench my fists, then take a deep breath and stand up on shaky legs. I survey myself in the dirty mirror that leans against a stack of totes full of clothes and books. I got the mirror off of the side of the road a few months ago because I thought I could make something cool out of the glass. My reflection looks almost as worn as the once-elegant trim. There are faint bags under my eyes, and my skin is sticky and gross, besides the fact that I’m beet red. My dirty blonde hair is a mess, and my arms look thin under my big t-shirt. I shrug. I look like the protagonist of a very dramatic movie. Pre glow up, of course. I giggle at that. Yeah, I’m a hot mess, but I’m not in a coming of age movie yet. Plus, I don’t have the right body type to be the protagonist of anything. Most days I feel too small for my body. Sighing, I head inside to refill my water bottle.

I pause outside for a moment, letting the cool air calm my nerves, maybe freeze out the rest of my dramatic thoughts. I’m careful not to let the house's front door squeak, but it doesn’t matter, anyway. The only light I can see is the dim glow from the lamp in the kitchen. It's enough to illuminate my younger sister, Alex, who is sitting at the table wearing a red t-shirt. “Hey, Brooks,” she says nonchalantly.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Am I not allowed to eat cheese balls at 10:30pm?” Her green eyes twinkle, and her high ponytail looks surprisingly bouncy for this time of night.

I can’t help laughing. “It isn’t wise,” I point out.

“Eh, I’ll live. What were you doing in the garage?”

“You know I like to craft in the garage.” That isn’t a lie. All of my supplies are out there since it has more space and less carpet than our shared bedroom. I never said I was crafting now.

“Weirdo,” she says as I make my way back to the door, water bottle filled.

I stick my tongue out as I escape, still smiling for a moment. Then I let out a sigh. The whole exchange was so normal. She doesn’t know anything is wrong. To be fair, I have way better control when I’m with people. At least, over things like this. Truthfully, I might flip out about little things, like, multiple times a week. I really can’t hold it together. But I can hide some things. I don't tell anyone that I feel like life is running away. That I think everything I do and say is wrong and my existence itself is a waste of time and energy. No, I just complain loudly for entire afternoons about schoolwork, or freak out when I can't find the shirt I want to wear, or cry for two hours when my sister says something even slightly offensive. I might as well scream from the rooftops that I’m stressed. If I were nicer, I wouldn’t. I feel horrible when my mood affects the rest of my family, but I have no self control. I have to let my feelings out. If only I could tell them the reason just as easily. It's not like I'm really trying to hide anything, because I can't, I just feel like they don’t get it. I’m screaming, but nobody really hears what it is that I’m saying.

Still, maybe Alex doesn’t know that anything is wrong because when I spend time with her nothing is wrong. Much as it hurts that nobody knows what’s going on, sometimes I need a reality check. She doesn’t give me the time to be worried or confused because with her I'm too busy giggling over something stupid or we’re mercilessly skipping each other’s turns in Uno. She’s my bright side, my chill pill, my personified therapy. My sister is my best friend.

It's just that if I'm being completely honest, I don’t know if she’d even care that I’m upset. That's what scares me most.

I know I’m being stupid. Why should she care? There’s nothing to care about. I’m inventing problems. It’s an illusion for me alone. She has her own life, and probably her own problems. She is the one with the learning disorder, after all. I’ve seen her crying to Mom about her struggles, though she’s usually strong. Gosh, I’m so selfish. I should be worrying about her instead of being upset that she isn’t worrying about me when there’s nothing to worry about. You see what I mean by dumpster fire now, right?

Putting my complicated thoughts and instinct to keep breathing way too fast aside, I reenter the garage and force myself to focus back on my tablet, which is open to a YouTube dance tutorial. Dancing is probably one of the reasons I'm even in this state of mind right now, but it's also something I love to do. I'm dumb like that. I dance all the time for fun, but it's not like I'm any good at it. Now's as good a time as any to change that, though. And if I give my stupid fat body some excercise in the process, that won't hurt, either. Dancing is only one of my many projects (sometimes I feel unaccomplished and empty if I don't have enough short term goals to work on), and lately it's been hard to keep up with all of my endeavors plus school. That's not even to mention family or friends. My entire life feels off kilter, but I really do love to dance, even if the garage is a small practice space. So I turn up the music and focus.

I'm currently trying to learn "Can't We Just Leave The Monster Alive?" by TXT. I just need to hear, “It’ll be alright, alright, alright,” because right now my whole body is telling me that it will most certainly not be alright. But I don't have to think as I follow the screen propped up against the mirror and the beats playing in my ears. All I have to do is move my body in a certain way, a bounce here and a twist there, and suddenly I'm dancing, and then it's just me and the music and the sweat on my back. And for a while I truly feel alive.

That's until I try to perfect the pre-chorus. I replay Yeonjun’s key footwork around fifteen times, but I just can’t keep the steps in my head. They’re probably bouncing off of the same suffocating wall that keeps reflecting all of my thoughts back onto each other in one big jumble. After another ten minutes or so, I’ve gotten exactly nowhere. Glaring at my reflection in the mirror, I decide that I will keep going until I get it. Twenty minutes later, I’m kicking the wall in defeat.

I decide to work on another end of the world issue instead: crafting. Funny story on that:

"Hey, Brooks, just coming to check on you," Dad said yesterday. He ducked to avoid hitting his head on the hanging light as he entered the garage. A breeze followed him through the door, cooling my face as I hurriedly turned off the phone and went to stand by my craft desk. I pretended I was busy with the glue gun, but it really wasn't even plugged in. "How're the crafts coming?"

"Good," I said casually, even as my mind flickered to the Etsy order I had yet to start.

"You're doing that show with Aunt Dede on Saturday, right?"

Shoot. Shootshootshoot.

"Oh, I almost forgot! Yup!" Or did forget and completely screwed myself. Whatever.

"You've been working hard out here lately. You should be pretty well prepared."

"Uh-huh! Definitely!" Nope. I was not prepared. Not at all. In fact, I was doomed.

I grabbed the phone to text Aunt Dede as soon as Dad left. Scooching myself up to sit on the hood of our old lawnmower, I typed, "R we still doing the craft fair Saturday?"

Her response came through seconds later: "Of course! I'll pick u up at 8."

"K, how much are you bringing?"

"I was going to do 20 hats and 10 paintings. Why?"

"Just trying to figure out how much I should bring."

'And make,' I thought as I sent the message.

"I'd say around 20 key chains and 20 headbands. Are u doing shirts?"

I bit my lip, drumming my fingers on the back of the phone. I had five key chains made, and the materials for at least fifteen more. I also had the decorations for the headbands, but not enough plastic bases. T-shirts are fun to decorate, but I wasn't sure I had time. Six days to make fifteen key chains and twenty headbands was bad enough. I'd also need to buy more plain shirts. It probably wouldn't be worth it. Screw that. I could do it. It should've been started already, anyway. "Yeah, will 10 shirts be ok?" I typed.

"Sounds perfect."

I smiled. Perfect. I could do this.

So now I set to work. One key chain, four headbands, and a few paint stains on my jeans later, I'm so tired I can hardly stand up without wanting to die on the spot. Besides that, the garage is freezing. I reluctantly trudge back to my bedroom, where I find Alex fast asleep. The wise decision would be to go to bed myself, but do I? Nope. Instead I find myself eating chocolate ice cream out of the carten while watching YouTube at one in the morning. Sighing, I finally turn the device off. I didn't care about anything when it was on, but now I have to–ugh–think. Why am I so stupid? One in the morning on YouTube, yet I can't bear to keep working on things that need done. If I put so much pressure on myself that it causes this weird anxiety thing (which it shouldn't), I could at least hold myself to my standard. I'm being all dramatic, yet I'm still so light on myself. Some days–or nights–the world feels impossible.

I don't have much trouble falling asleep, my body tired and my mind quickly falling back into the digital world. Of course. I'm pathetic. I do have lots of trouble waking up in the morning, but I eventually drag myself out of bed. It's an hour later than I want it to be, which fills my chest with a tight frustration, but I push past it and open my computer to begin classes.

I realize it's open to a coding screen. That's the other thing I've been working on.

I was headed to the garage with my phone last week when I glanced down and quickly changed my plans. I saw a text from my friend, Zara. "You busy?" She asked.

I had a feeling I knew where this was going, so I replied with a, "Nope!" Sure enough, I was soon riding my bike down the road, my heart thumping a little too hard. The sky was bright, yellow leaves crossing my path as I pedaled harder. Cold air snapped at my cheeks, and I breathed it in happily.

My heart beat even faster when I came to the end of the road. As always, I hesitated at the light, even when there were no cars coming. I wondered if I should turn back, but I didn't. Eventually I rolled into the busier road and made my way down, towards the park. I flinched every time I heard the whirr of tires behind me, and I could barely see past the tangle of blonde hair flying into my eyes, but the speed made me feel alive.

Zara was already on the swings when I swerved through the gate, skidding on the gravel. "Yo!" I called with a smile, half waving as I hopped off of the seat and put my kickstand down. "Nice hair," I added, observing the purple and blue mixed into her rich brown locks that peaked out from underneath her beanie.

"Thanks, I died it myself," she said airily, brushing it off of her shoulder.

"No you didn't," I told her.

"Fine. They're clips."

"That explains the beanie."

"What? It's cold out."

"Uh-huh." I sat down on the swing beside hers. "So-ome things never cha-ange!" I sing-songed. I knew the clips were horribly scattered on top of her hair, just like she had worn them when we were nine. That had been when I went to public school. Since I started cyber schooling this year, I haven't seen as much of Zara, so it was a relief to know she was still the same goofball.

"Ugh, not Frozen!" Zara protested.

"Come on, you used to have a Frozen backpack," I reminded her.

"Used to. Meanwhile you still have a Hello Kitty T-shirt."

"Hello Kitty is cool, and I bet that backpack is still in your closet."

"I hate you," she informed me. We laughed, our voices echoing across the deserted playground. I kicked hard at the ground as Zara started playing music off of her phone. Soon I was going much higher than she was, practically flying away from the world. For a moment I envisioned the chain breaking. I would just fly forever. I shared this idea with Zara, and she laughed at me. "That would hurt," she commented.

I giggled. "Whatever."

Truthfully, I felt like I was flying already. The park is one of the few places I'm allowed to go by myself, let alone actually have the means to get to. Going there with Zara feels like freedom. With how I've been feeling lately–stressed beyond imagination even though I don't actually have anything interesting going on in my life, trapped in my own mind, boxed in by my stupid temper–freedom is something I'm learning to cherish.

"Oh! I saw this thing online, you have to do it!" Zara exclaimed after a few moments of swinging along to the music without talking.

"Do what? I'm not breaking any laws, ok." I giggled.

"Shut up, I'm trying to explain!"

"Sorry." I held my hands up in surrender, then nearly fell off of the swing. Zara snorted as I hurriedly regripped the chains. "Go on," I said casually.

"It's a coding competition for high schoolers. The winner gets free classes and a trip to LA!"

"Seriously? That's so cool!" I said, designs already coming together in my head.

"You have to do it," Zara said again.

I smiled. Why not? "Duh!" I agreed.

"I'll send you the link so you can look at it."

"You're the best."

We parted twenty minutes later, each heading in our respective direction for the long ride home. I felt light as a feather, full of sunshine and joy.

So that's another thing I've got going on. The days are taking on a regular schedule. Wake up, get mad about waking up late, school, meltdown (some days worse than others), guilt, coding (everyone assumes I'm doing homework on the computer; they think I work harder than I do), go outside if it isn't dark or raining (I'm beginning to hate the dark), dance (usually only for twenty minutes), crafts, watch YouTube, bed. Time is ticking away. Rain pounds on the garage's metal roof more often than not, making me feel even more anxious.

I never get everything that I want done. I always feel like I'm drowning, but in reality I'm fine. My headbands and key chains are getting sloppier. Every time I think I might be getting good at dancing, I look in the mirror and realize I'm still as awkward as ever. As for coding, progress is slow. It's been a hobby of mine ever since I took an online class for fun two years ago, but I've never tried anything as big as this contest.

I guess it makes sense that I'm stressed. It's clear that what I'm doing is too much, but it shouldn't be. I love these things. I want to be able to handle them. I will be able to handle them. Still, I hate this feeling. I know I'm wasting my time being miserable and that scares me, because I only have so much time. One day I'll wake up and be in the 'twenty years later' epilogue, a grown woman with actual responsibilities. I want to be a kid while I can, but I don't know how to escape myself. I try to be carefree, but sometimes it feels forced and leaves me even more stressed. It's like there's a gaping chasm inside of me, blocking the way to what I really want, whatever that is at this point. One wrong step and I'll go plummeting down into the void.

In the end, it's a tiny thing that sends me crashing down. I'm trying to perfect the chorus to "Can't We Just Leave the Monster Alive?", but I keep getting stuck on a certain part. I repeat it over and over. And over and over and over. And– I have no control over my feet. I hear plastic and metal crashing together as I stumble into my desk, sending craft supplies flying everywhere. I don't even hit that hard, it barely even hurts, but it's enough to make the tension that's been building for weeks light up as rage in my chest.

I choke out a scream, wildly tearing things off of the desk and hurtling them across the room. Buttons, plastic headbands, tape, copper wire, it's all bouncing off of the piles of junk. My eyes are burning. My throat is burning. Everything is burning. I wish I could throw harder. I wish I were stronger. I yank the glue gun's cord out of the wall and throw that, too. A sickening crack fills the air and I look up just in time to see cracks like spider webs spread over the surface of the mirror. I'm frozen for a moment, staring at my fragmented reflection.

"Are you ok, sweetie?" It's Mom. She cracks the door open and peeks through, concern clouding her brow when she notices the craft supplies littering the already cluttered room.

I humm out a reply, but it doesn't sound all that convincing. Especially since I'm crying the next second. And trust me, I would prefer to not be crying right now, but the tears are there anyway, tickling the inside of my head and spilling out of my eyes. No matter how hard I might try, I can't hold them back. And so I stand there ugly crying in front of the broken mirror. I never could hide my emotions.

Mom doesn't say anything else as she enters the garage, sidestepping clutter to come and wrap me up in her sturdy arms. I remain stiff for a moment, my movements delayed by the thoughts running through my head. It wasn't even twenty minutes ago that Mom was yelling at me about my horrible attitude towards Alex. Guilt washes over me as I lean into her embrace. She's so soft and warm. Why do I have to make things so hard for her?

She holds me like that until my tears subside. My back is a little stiff by the time she pulls away, and then it's only to take hold of my shoulders and look me in the eye. I'm having trouble looking back at her brown eyes, so full of compassion and well-concealed weariness.

"I'm sorry I yelled earlier," she says gently.

"Sorry for being crappy," I reply, sniffling.

"I get that you're stressed. Life can be…a lot. I shouldn't have lost my temper."

"It wasn't your fault." Because it wasn't. It was my fault. I was the one making everything difficult. "Mom, what's wrong with me?"

"I think you're overwhelmed with a lot of things right now. And I think you might not be the best at handling those emotions."

I let out a wet snort at that. "No duh."

I expect her to lecture me, point out all of my mistakes, tell me how to make it better but I still won’t be able to change anything. She doesn't. She doesn't say anything for a while, just takes my hand and gently rubs the back of it. "It won't always be like this. You're so much more than you think you are. You're going to be ok."

On the one hand, they sound like generic, empty words. She can't possibly know that anything will get better, and I like to think I have a fairly realistic perception of myself. Still, I want to believe her. Because she sounds so sure, so sincere. And she's looking at me with love, not judgment or even much pity. "I love you, Brooks. You're so loved. And that has nothing to do with your performance." And that was it, the words that break my resolve, crumble my walls. Finally the pieces clicked into place.

Fresh tears burn my eyes, and I have no choice but to bury my face in Mom's shoulder, letting the soft fabric of her blouse cushion me. She giggles, patting my head and then hugging me some more.

We pull apart at the sound of Alex screaming from inside the house. "MOM! HOW LONG DO I COOK THE FRICKIN' HAM FOR?"

"Ham?" I ask, immediately perking up from how I was moments ago.

"Your sister's helping, so don't get your hopes up," Mom laughs, getting up to go assist her.

I laugh too, and then feel Mom's eyes settle on me, a fond smile on her face. "You good now?"

I shrug. "Better. Thanks, Momma."

I stare at the door for a few moments after Mom leaves, then turn around to assess the damage… and let out a verbal groan. The mere sight of the garage is overwhelming. It isn't going to fix itself, though. I gingerly pick up a piece of glass from the floor, careful not to cut my finger on the sharp edge. I can see my left eye staring back at me, bloodshot and shiny from crying. I hold the piece back a little and smile without opening my mouth, watching the dimples appear on either cheek. I don't look amazing, but I look alive. And that's the thing, isn't it? I'm still alive. And there's a lot more to my life than what's going on in my mind.

I think back over the last month, over the good points instead of bad. Laughing with Alex. Swinging with Zara. Teasing Dad. Hugging Mom. Sunshine in between the clouds. Wind on my cheeks and stars in my eyes. People I love by my side. I'm loved. I'm loved by so many people. They might not understand every thought I have, and I might not be able to articulate everything, but they do care. Between all of the business, or maybe because of it, they make my life beautiful.

It took me a while to realize it, but rain makes things grow. The darker a night is, the brighter the stars are. I might be a little bit of a disaster, but I'm not alone. I don't know anything about anything, but maybe learning is what makes life exciting.

My problems don't all disappear in a flash. This isn't a fairytale. There are still bad days, lots of bad days. Sometimes I kick myself back to square one, maybe even lower than that, but every time I make it back up. The light is definitely shining through. I might not be perfect, but I think I'm going to be alright.

Me, You

I hate waking up to your neatly made bed beside mine.

I hate how you're motivated all of the time.

I live on mac'n'cheese while you eat healthy.

I get frustrated and you overflow with positivity.

You can dance choreographed steps around me.

I don't even know about half of your hobbies.

Unlike my mess, you're always aesthetic.

You're so good at everything, it makes me sick.

I'm shaped wrong, but you're perfectly pretty.

You're always cute, not awkward like me.

You're so much faster than me.

You know exactly what you want to be.

You're two steps ahead of me.

I'm two steps behind you.

You're running away, I'm losing hope.

Please wait for me, where did you go?

I'm lost alone.

I don't know what to do.

I just want to be like you.

Live Vibrantly

I don’t want to be a poet,

Writing out my dreams.

I don’t want to be an artist,

Putting images to fantasy.

I don’t want to be a blogger,

Typing out relationships.

I don’t want to be a dancer,

Moving wild and free.

I don’t want to be a singer,

Shouting out a story.

I don’t want to be

Crippled by a dream.

I want to be a daughter,

Making my parents proud.

I want to be a sister,

Giving my siblings smiles.

I want to be a friend,

Giggling through the night.

I want to be an encouragement,

Picking others up.

I want to be a Christian,

Living in the light.

I want to be a human,

Living vibrantly.

Creating magic

In the world around me.

I don’t want to miss a moment,

Focusing on only one thing.

I don’t want to be alone

In my world of beauty.

I want to write.

I want to draw.

I want to blog.

I want to dance.

I want to sing.

I want to have fun.

I want to smile.

I want to talk.

I want to laugh.

I want to help.

I won’t be

Crippled by a dream.

I will be a human.

I will write, draw, blog, dance, and sing.

I will have fun, smile, talk, laugh, and help.

I will live vibrantly.

Run Away Where we Are

I want to run away.

Why does ordinary have to be reality?

I wish I were insane.

Logical thoughts hold me back.

Why do I have to be a good kid?

It would be so much easier

If I didn't care.

I wish I didn't care.

I want to run away

But everything holds me back.

I can only escape

Into the grotto of my mind

But it's lonely up there.

I want to share it with you.

Should I share it?

Please be my escape.

Can we run away together

Right where we are?

Why Study Geography?

Bright leaves sparkle in the sun as I wander aimlessly through the trees. An orange butterfly passes my ear and I consider following it. I can go anywhere I want to go; the world is wide open with possibilities. That’s why geography matters to me. I want to discover all that there is to know about the earth and explore everything out there.

First, I want to learn about where I am in the world and why that matters. There’s something special in everyone’s hometown. I live in Harborcreek, Pennsylvania. When I go to the beach, I am swimming in the eleventh largest lake in the world, which touches three other states: New York, Ohio, and Michigan. How different is the same lake from one of those places? I want to know how things here compare and contrast with the rest of the country and even the world. That way I can really appreciate what I have and know what else is out there.

Second, I’ll need basic knowledge of geography to plan for my future. I’m going to travel the world with my friends when we’re older, and it will be helpful to learn all I can first. I read the quote by Lao Tzu, “A journey of a thousand miles begins

with a single step,” and I think that step is to get ready. I can’t exactly pack up and fly to France this second, but I will someday. Right now all I can do is prepare. The more I know about the world, the better equipped I’ll be to enjoy it. Abraham Verghese says, “I’m a great believer in geography being destiny.”

Lastly, I want to make the most of everything around me. God created this entire world, the very least I can do is hear about what’s out there. God describes His followers as, “The people whom I formed for myself that they might declare my praise,” in Isaiah 43:21. What better way to proclaim His praise than to appreciate His amazing works? God must be honored when we marvel at His creation, the same way I like it when someone compliments one of my paintings.

I didn’t have much of a choice about studying geography this year, but I’m happy to get the opportunity. I can’t wait to see what I can learn. This is about God’s breathtaking world, after all. “The earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof, the world and those who dwell therein, for He has founded it upon the seas and established it upon the rivers.”--Psalm 24:1-2.

The Curse

Have you ever considered that things are more than they seem? That there’s a whole world hidden beneath this one? That anything is possible? That we should cherish our resources, just in case? Kayla hasn’t.

Kayla doesn’t even know the basics of this world.

For most people, their first memory is a fuzzy little blurb from when they were a small child. Not for Kayla. She has to be around fifteen years old (nobody knows for sure), but her first memory is of a traumatic experience just a few weeks ago.

She found herself floating on her back in the middle of some cool, quiet place. She must have been asleep moments before. The sun beat down on her cheeks, and she felt wonderfully content with her blonde ringlets floating around her and her graceful arms flung wide. Then she rolled over. Cold shock hit her full in the face like a thousand tiny needles as fire exploded under the skin between her eyes. She jumped up and her heart dropped when she realized she was falling. She opened her eyes wildly, but saw nothing but tangible darkness. It was trapping her. The fire spread to her lungs, burning

fiercer until she thought her body would explode. She opened her mouth to cough or scream, but was met with the thick taste of rot. She writhed, kicking her arms and legs with the little strength she had left as the invisible enemy pursued her. It was no use, no matter which she turned, it was all the same. All black. All painful. Her mind was racing like a guinea pig on its wheel, so fast that she couldn’t catch any of the thoughts. Tears stung her eyes. Everything hurt. The world was spinning. That was when she saw a murky, green-brown light. She wasn't thinking at all, all she knew or cared about was reaching that light. Her own body was a blur as she thrashed with all her might. At last she bobbed up into blinding sunlight, coughing fiercely and gasping for air. She fell under again almost immediately, but kicked her way up once again. The water almost seemed angry, though. She was only able to hack out one strained shriek for help before it forced her under again. This time she stopped fighting. The world was already dark. Now it was going numb, too.

"Are you sure that's all you remember? Sarah asks as Kayla finishes retelling the story.

"Uh huh,” Kayla replies in a hollow tone. "After that I woke up on the beach and you were there, and we started talking. You mentioned a friend named Kayla and I thought that was familiar. You know what happened since then." She says it all without any emotion, fiddling with the pink petals of a nearby flower as she talks. They are hidden in Sarah's garden, which is between Mrs. Wilson's house and the shed that serves as Sarah and Kayla's bedroom. The shed is tucked back into the dry weeds where nobody notices it. Because nobody ever goes back there, the garden is a bit secret. The reason it has to be secret is because clean water is scarce in the town. It needs to be brought in from other places, but it's getting scarce there, too. Not only does Sarah need to share her rations to make the flowers grow, she needs to protect the flowers from the toxic rain. Because of these inconvenient factors, gardening is illegal. Sarah can't give up her garden, though. It's the only place where she feels like she can breathe, both literally and mentally. Now sunlight is slanting through the leaves and landing on the rusty bench where Sarah and Kayla sit. Sunflowers are growing up to their left, and the ground ahead is carpeted in purple. Two white butterflies are playing in the air, and a bird chirps not far away.

"I know what happened from there up until you saw those butterflies and said they reminded you of something. What was it?"

“I don't know.”

"Well, think! Don't you want to remember?" Sarah presses gently. Kayla shruggs.

"Hey, I get that knowing can be hard. I know how my parents died, and now I'm afraid of fire, but I'd still rather have that than just cluelessness."

Kayla is silent.

"Do you want to live in the dark?"

"I really don't care."

"Do you care about anything?"

“No.”

“I should've known, I guess. Ever since I met you, you haven't smiled once. You're beautiful, but you’d be so much prettier if you smiled.” Sarah pauses thoughtfully.

Kayla knows what she wants to ask, but she is hesitant. "Do you think I have a personality?"

Sarah doesn't know what to say. She doesn't want to be rude, but Kayla needs her to answer honestly. "I think you could have one,” is all she can offer.

"I knew I didn't,” Kayla states almost matter-of-factly.

"I'm sorry.”

“But you think I could?" There is almost a hint of emotion in her tone. The tiniest glint of hope. "Of course, who's stopping you?"

"I don't know. Somebody."

"What?"

"I think... I think I used to have a personality. I used to care. I can just barely геmember what it felt like. I want it back, but I just... can't. Something won't let me."

"Kayla! Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Sarah asks, excited.

Kayla shrugs."What's the point?"

"The fact that you want it proves there's still something there! Whatever is holding you up,

we can work past it. Nothing can block you from being yourself!" Sarah exclaims, her brown eyes sparkling passionately.

Kayla just stares into space.

“Pease. Just try,” Sarah pleads more gently.

Kayla continues to sit perfectly still, her graceful hands folded in her lap, for an unnaturally long time.

"Kayla?" Sarah begins to get worried. “What's going on?”

Kayla still doesn't move, but her breathing gradually gets heavier until she is panting as if in terror.

"Kayla..."

All at once she sucks in her breath and springs up off of the bench. She leans against a small blossoming tree and does the most shocking thing while still catching her breath. She smiles-- no, grins. True to what Sarah said earlier, Kayla is a thousand times more beautiful when she smiles. Her pale skin lights up and two perfect dimples appear on her smooth cheeks. Her petite nose scrunches ever so slightly and, most importantly, her crystal blue eyes open wide to let the world in. She is so shocked, all she can do is laugh.

Sarah, taken aback, can't help giggling, too. “Kayla! Are you ok?" she manages to squeeze out.

Kayla shakes her head, causing her curls to bounce before answering. "Not Kayla! I know who I really am!"

"What?" Sarah stops giggling and stares into the eyes of Kayla, who has also regained her composure. "Did you say…”

Kayla nods. "You were right, nothing can stop me! I remember everything! I have a personality!”

Sarah doesn't know how to respond. “Kayla, that's... amazing!"

"I remember my real name, too. Call me Kalalaya.”

"Kalalaya?"

She nods.

"That's not a normal name. I love it."

"It's not normal for humans, anyway."

"Wait..."

"I'd better explain from the beginning."

So Kalalaya tells the whole story. As it turns out, she isn't human. She's a living particle of water. The community that she lived in before makes up the lake near Sarah's hometown where the foul water comes from. They are called the cursed, because they were doomed to a stagnant life of waste by the evil witch, Genella. Legends claim that Genella cursed the community by mistake in an experiment but didn’t bother trying to fix the damage. Nobody could punish her since the crime was unintentional, but she still faced seclusion. The lack of contact with other creatures and the knowledge that everyone was blaming her made Genella hard and bitter.

The curse made everyone useless. Some got angry and rebelled, completing their usual journeys anyway. This spread the poison farther and harmed the crops in town. Most just stayed put, living a useless life of nothingness. Spirits in the community sank low and lives became bland. Kalalaya handled it differently. She knew she couldn't let anger control her since that only harmed others, but she wasn't going to sit around and let life pass by without any action, either. What she did was make her own fun and adventures where she was, spreading her happiness and curiosity with the rest of the community to ease the gloom. Life was pretty good for Kalalaya, who never stopped dreaming about going on journeys someday, but what she didn't know was that she had an enemy. It was Genella, who was by that point an angry and depressed creature who didn’t want anyone to be happy without her. With nothing better to do, she set her focus on getting rid of Kalalaya.

An opportunity came sooner than Genella had expected when rumors started spreading about a water creature who'd turned into a human. Kalalaya thought that would be the perfect opportunity for adventure, so she began searching out ways to do it herself. That was when Genella reached out in disguise and offered to perform the magic on the over-eager girl.

"We met in a cave where she told me to go a few weeks ago, and then she cornered me and revealed who she really was and that her plan was to turn me into a dull human forever to get rid of me,” Kalalaya goes on.

"Why would she tell you?” Sarah asks, eyes wide.

"I'll bet she wanted to see me afraid, rotten scum--"

"Were you afraid?"

“Well, I don't think anyone could be pleased about something like this! But it's over now, and I have my personality back, so it worked out."

“Did it, now?” a high, cruel voice demanded from the side of the garden, making both girls jump. They turn to see a tall, bony figure standing with her hands on her hips. Her wrinkled face is creased in a permanent frown.

"Mrs. Wilson! W-why are you--" Sarah begins.

"Sarah, dear! I asked you to wash the dishes ages ago! Now stop playing in fairyland and show some gratitude for what I've done for you!" Mrs. Wilson snaps, uprooting a sunflower and tossing it aside as she talks.

"Yes m--”

"Wait!" Kalalaya puts her arm out to stop Sarah from standing up.

"Ah, and Kayla--"

Kalalaya growels at this.

“--you never emptied the waste bin, and now I've got to do it myself.” With that, Mrs. Wilson picks up a basket the girls hadn't noticed before and dumps its contents into a patch of petunias.

"You can't just--”

"That's going to hurt my people!”

"Oh, that's right, Kalalaya, was it?"

"How long have you been listening?"

"Long enough to know what I need to know."

"And that means…”

“I know that my fool of a sister is at it again. I'm on her side this time, but of course she can't pull it off! Now I'll need to step in."

"Wait, did you say--”

"Yes, yes, what a shock. Unfortunately, Genella is my sister.”

"But you're a human..."

"Did you honestly think she just made that one mistake? I'm another of her failed experiments. Filthy rat turned me human, can't turn me back."

"Then why are on her side now?" Kalalaya asks, immersed in the story.

"You were this close to breaking her curse with your happiness--" Mrs. Wilson spits this word out, “--and they don't deserve to fly free while I'm stuck here. Getting rid of you was the best bet. Since she couldn't do it, I will," Mrs. Wilson raises her voice on the last two words, making both girls jump. In a quick motion, she has them hovering in the air above the bench. They both shriek at the same time. Kalalaya begins kicking and writhing in the air while Sarah freezes in terror.

"Let us go!" Kalalaya shouts. With a nod of her head, Mrs. Wilson dropps both girls to the ground. Sarah crashes into the corner of the bench and sits panting on the ground. Kalalaya Falls onto a thorny rose bush. "Thanks," she grumbles.

"That was just for fun. Now it's time to finish what my idiot sister started!"

"She's going to take away your passion. Do something!" Sarah whispers urgently.

Kalalaya immediately begins to panic. Palms sweating, she has the feeling like she's suffocating. It's the same way she felt when Genella cursed her the first time. But she made it through that. She can do it again. Before she knows what she's doing, she stands up and realizes that Mrs. Wilson is on the ground breathing hard. "What did I just do?" Kalalaya asks.

"Something,” Sarah breathes.

"Did I... take her powers?"

"Looks like it."

Mrs. Wilson is now pulling herself up, sputtering and swearing. She waves her arms at the girls like mad, but nothing happens.

"Were you too strong for her?"

"I guess."

"I wonder if you could defeat Genella, too. Would that break the curse?"

"It makes sense. Going after the source has to work better than ignoring the problem. I'll just have to figure out how to get to her."

"Are you aware that you're shrinking?"

"Ah! What? Sarah, I think I'm changing back!" Kalalaya is already half as tall as her friend.

"Well, that explains how you'll get to Genella."

"Will I be strong enough to defeat her?"

"Of course. You can handle anything."

"What about Mrs. Wilson?"

"I'll get the police to take care of her."

"And you?”

"I'll be fine, but will I ever see you again?"

"Every time it rains, "Kalalaya promises just as she shrinks so small that Sarah can't see her.

Carefree Friendship

Friendship is your go to for fun. The person who can turn you into a total goofball. You’ll do stupid things on purpose just for the sake of it. Friendship is how you really live. The moments together are the inspiration to get you through the moments apart. Life can get crazy, but playing truth or dare and making cookies at 2am together makes it ok. Your love doesn’t even need to be spoken. Friendship: the meaningful yet carefree ticket to laughter.

A Friend

A friend is someone

To always be happy for you.

A friend is someone

Who lets you see their messy room.

A friend is someone

To be there forever.

A friend is someone

Who dances like they don't care with you.

A friend is someone

To act like a kid with at any age.

A friend is someone

Who takes selfies and vacuums candy with you.

A friend is someone

To get into messes with.

A friend is someone

Who laughs with you.

A friend is someone

To share crazy memories with.

A friend is someone

Who plots with you.

A friend is someone

To make you enjoy watching the stupid movie.

A friend is someone

Who lets you be weird.

A friend is someone

To whip pillows at.

A friend is someone

Who can stay up all night with you.

A friend is someone

To talk to.

A friend is someone

Who makes you smile.

Giggles

At first it's just a smirk

And then maybe a smile

A tickle in your chest

A grin from mile to mile

A snort is in your throat

It won't be swallowed back

A single laugh gets out

Before giggles attack

It's all started

And now it will not stop

Face aflame

And shaking bottom to top

You cannot pause the tidal wave

The tears are in your eyes

This humorous delight

Well, it has no disguise

Your body is in chaos

As all your systems panic

But right now it's all ok

Not at all like being sick

You've never felt so happy

You're light as a balloon

As laughter echoes through the night

Your smiles reach the moon

You try to get a grip

Suck desperately for air

You’re so close to a stop

But then you dare

You cast a glance at her

And look her in the eye

And then you both collapse

To laugh until you cry

Crazy Stupid

Maybe I'm cool.

Maybe I'm fine,

But when I'm with you.

I lose my mind.

I might be insane,

But why use my brain?

It's fun to be stupid.

We don't break the rules,

We don't cross the lines,

But we might break our bones,

And the lines do get bent.

We're teenage girls

Expanding our worlds

And this is the best time.

To be alive.

I'm normally calm.

Compared to other kids I'm an angel,

But I'm still stupid

And smart about it.

I am careful

That as far as I can see,

The only person I could hurt is me,

So let's go a little crazy

And laugh until it hurts

And then just be.

A New View

When it all began I was sitting on the shore, feeling the same between my toes and letting my mind wander. I checked my watch: 7:47AM. The date was Sunday, December 7, 1941. It seemed so ordinary, little did I know that date would live on forever as the day so many lives changed.

I should have been getting ready, but I just couldn't go to church that day. Not after the previous afternoon's drama. I had been playing in the waves at the beach with my best friend, Mindy, when Lillian showed up. "Molly!" She called, "I didn't expect to see you here!" Before I could do much of anything, Mindy was pouncing.

"What is the Japanese scrum doing at our spot?" She asked me.

At first Lillian looked shocked. Then hurt. But she put on a smile and whispered, "I'm sorry, I just wanted to say hi to my friend." My heart might have ripped in half just then. I could tell she was holding back tears. Why? There was no reason besides the unchangeable fact that she was from Japan.

"Friend? Molly's your friend now? Molly?" Mindy asked scornfully.

My face became a furnace as my stomach dropped to my toes. "What? No! She just won't leave me alone! I thought she was too small to be a real threat, even if she is Japanese, so I didn't bother trying to get rid of her." I don't know why I said that. It wasn't true, I just hated Mindy's tone.

I was thinking all of this over when suddenly I heard the roar of an engine overhead. What the... I looked up to see a bomber with the Japanese symbol on it. I whipped my head around to cast an uneasy glance at the harbor to my right.

---------

Days later I looked out the window to find a completely different island. The beaches were guarded with barbed wire and most of the ship's were gone. Destroyed. 2,335 men were killed plus 68 civilians. 1,178 more were wounded, including 35 innocent people standing by. I was one of those 35.

I shuddered at the memory. The smoke had thickened the sky in an instant and the sharp fumes had made me dizzy. Debris from our ships were flying everywhere. I tried to run but suddenly I was slammed to the ground. I couldn't feel my legs. The whole world had begun to spin. I was sure that I was dead when I saw Lillian. She was running towards me in all of the mayhem. The world went black before anything else could happen.

The next thing I knew I was seated on the couch with my mom. The scent of tea sweetened the air. Lillian was gone. I never saw her again after that. I never got to thank her. Or to apologize.

Mom's are so perfect. They know when you need to talk and when all you want to do is curl up the legs you can't feel and cry because you're so confused by this point that you don't know what to say or even think. They know that sometimes you just have to let something out, so they let you scream like a madman as loud as you like. They also know when all you need is a good book.

Oh, it felt so wonderful to be on solid ground once more! We had really made it. Well... not all of us. I remembered my brother with a sharp pang of sadness. Taking a shaking breath, I reminded myself that he was in heaven now.

My legs wobbled beneath me, for they had grown accustomed to the tossing waves and the constant rocking. Unable to stand, I knelt down and have thanks to God instead. All around me other people knelt in prayer, too. It was like a Sunday's service right then and there. We hadn't even planned it out.

It was the dead of winter. I shivered through my worn cloak and work dress, but the view below made it all worth it. The wilderness of trees and bushes before us was laced in a delicate frost that made even the thorns beautiful. It was as if a great spider had woven her web all around the forest. I had seen plenty of snow before in England, but it had never lost it's beauty to me. Something about this land was different, though. I was meant to be here. Agitated grumbles swelled up around me after some time, but all I could hear was the singing of my heart.

Wild animals ran by, much surprised to find us at their doorstep, but they weren't what the leaders were worried about. I peeked between shivering shoulders and made my way through the growing crowd to see what the trouble was. I heard cold whispers of "Barbarians" and "Wild men" that sent ants up my spine. But when at last I got to the front of the crowd, I saw nothing of the sort. What I saw was a small group of men with flesh and bones not so different from mine. They all had two arms, two legs, and faces just like me. So what was everyone scared of? Their skin was strangely dark and their clothes so very different, but what did that matter?

I was lost in thought long after I finished the introduction. How could this girl be so cheerful against all odds? I guess she was just doing what she could to make the situation better. Why couldn't I do that? I could try a new view. Lillian was gone. There wasn't anything I could do about that. What I could do was change my friends' opinions on her. Maybe one day she would come back and find an island ready to accept her, to admit that we are all humans. Maybe we could all take on a new view.

Abigail Olivia Rater

My full name is Abigail Olivia Rater. A lot of my personality can be told by this name. Any good story has a beginning, middle, and end so here I'll give the full story of my name.

Abigail. Everybody calls me Abby. I share this title with one of my best friends as well as about five other girls, though I wasn't named after anyone in particular. I also share it with the woman in 1 Samuel 25 who uses good sense to talk David out of getting revenge on her foolish husband. I don't think I'm quite as brave as that Abigail, but I am sensible and I hope my name reminds me to become brave. The name Abigail means father's joy, and I try to bring joy to my whole family. Abigail: It connects to friends, it is sensible and brave, and it spreads joy. I hope I can live up to my name.

Olivia. the part of my name that's all my own. My parents say that before I was born a lot of relatives disagreed about whom I should be named after. Annoyed, my parents pulled a random name out of the sky: Olivia. When I was little I thought my middle name was from a certain cartoon I liked. I asked my parents about it at least three times even though each time

they said no. I sure am glad I was wrong about that! Sometimes my brother and I would make up characters whose first names were our middle names and pretend to be them for fun. Olivia was always adventurous and brave. Olivia: It's all my own even if I have seen it in books and on TV a few times. Sometimes I wish my middle name was my first name.

Rater. Of course I share my last name with my family and this is really an honor. Dad says the name is German, which I find intriguing even if there isn't a second German thing about us. What matters more to me than where the name came from is what I inherited from it. My Dad's perfectionism that I got can be a good thing or a bad thing depending on the situation, but I've always enjoyed sharing his knack for words. Something I hope to get from my family is their independence. My Mom homeschools my five siblings and I and my Dad is an elder and preacher at our small church which they helped start. Rater: it connects to family, and it gives perfectionism, writing, and (hopefully) independence. This one I really hope to live up to and I'll be sad to give it up if I ever marry.

So that is my name. I love the parts that are shared and that they still stay unique. My friend Abby and I are as different as night and day, and each of my siblings has gotten something different from Rater. Still, I like that my middle name is relatively all mine. So, the story of my name does tell a lot about me, but it certainly doesn't define me.

In her Own World

The day Elizabeth's life changed started like any other day. Grabbing her Bible from a bedside shelf along with a flashlight, Elizabeth paused to look at the brown leather cover of her precious Bible. She was proud of the book and it made her feel grown-up, even if it was in the easiest translation available. Elizabeth's dad was constantly reminding her that the words inside the Bible and, more importantly, the God who inspired them were what really mattered, not the pretty outside.

After her Bible reading, Elizabeth went into her closet to get dressed. She sighed rapturously, looking at the long plaid dress with the cute white collar and tiny buttons down the bodice. The pink dress had a simple bonnet with it on the hanger. This was Elizabeth's favorite dress; her Mom had looked at several costume shops and online but eventually she had had to sew the dress herself. It was Elizabeth's eighth birthday present. It was perfect, but she had no idea how her parents knew. Elizabeth hadn't told anyone (not even Rosa, her best friend) about her obsession. They all knew that she was doing well in history, but nobody knew how much she wanted to live in the 1840s. This was a bit of a strange obsession, and of course an

impossible wish, but every chance she got, Elizabeth imagined herself as a pioneer. The reason Elizabeth hadn't told anyone was that she was afraid people would act like she acted about the Bible and judge by the outside, even if it did work out well for the Bible.

With much more of a flat sigh, Elizabeth reached behind the dress to get a denim jacket. She pulled this on over her t-shirt, which was black with a sparkly purple music note outlined with silver studs. Purple leggings completed the look. Rosa had said this outfit was awesome (she had picked it out) but Elizabeth would much rather have worn the 1800s dress.

Elizabeth bounced down the short hall to breakfast and hardly noticed the glances her Mom and Dad kept shooting at each other. They were half-nervous and half-excited glances. Elizabeth wolfed down her toast and ignored what could have been awkward silence. After a few minutes (or an eternity depending on who you ask) Mom said, "Lizzie, could you get your sister up, we have some important news for you two." Elizabeth jumped up to wake her older sister.

"What's so important that I have to wake up early?" Elizabeth's sister grumbled as she stumbled out in her pajamas.

"Vikki, Lizzie, your mother and I have something to tell you. You may not take it well, but this is what will be best for you two,” Dad said. Elizabeth's stomach lurched. She had read a conversation that began similar to this one in a book once, and the outcome was not good. Elizabeth could hardly swallow the toast in her mouth. Palms sweating and mind reeling, Elizabeth expected the worst. What her parents actually said made her laugh a bit. "We're moving out to Warren,” was what Dad said.

Elizabeth was busy being relieved, but Vikki had no such occupation. “Are you kidding!?! Warren?! I won't ever be able to see my friends! Why would you do this?! You're ruining my life!" she cried before jumping up and stomping back to her room. Everything was silent after the passionate outburst, then Dad chuckled.

"Well that woke her up," he said.

Mom swatted at him with a towel and said, “I'd better go talk to her."

As they continued with breakfast, Elizabeth asked Dad, "We're still going to see our friends sometimes, right?"

"Of course! Warrin is right near Kinzoo, that bridge we visited last summer. It isn't too far a drive for friends to visit, it just won't be as convenient as it is now. You'll also make new friends at your new school,” he explained. Elizabeth hadn't even thought about switching schools. She didn't know why, but this idea excited her; at the innermost part of her mind, she felt that she was doing something wrong at her current school. Elizabeth still had more questions. "When are we going to move?" she inquired. "We already know what house we're going to buy, but we scheduled the closing date really far out in mid-July. We probably won't put this house up for sale until that month so we can stay here right up until that closing date," Dad told her.

The worst part was going to be telling Rosa. Elizabeth dreaded this and tried to avoid her friend at school, but at lunch Rosa couldn't be avoided any longer. “Lizzie, is there a problem? You've stayed away from me all day long. Are you mad at me?" Rosa asked right off when Elizabeth sat down at their normal table.

"What? Of course I'm not mad at you! Why would I be? I do have something to tell you, though,” Elizabeth lowered her eyes to stare at her lunch tray at that last phrase.

"Well spit it out already!" Rosa demanded.

“I'm moving. To Warren. We're leaving in about five months," Elizabeth said, preparing herself for some form of emotional outburst from her friend. Rosa looked crushed at first but soon a smile spread across her face.

“Is it April fools day and nobody told me?” she asked.

“Nope, it's still March. I'm really leaving,” Elizabeth said.

"Oh,” Rosa's face fell again, but her smile returned a moment later. "At least we still have five months, and half of that is Summer vacation. Let's have the best five months of our lives, and once you move I'll visit every month, Warren isn't so far away," Rosa said brightly. They started to make plans and soon Rosa's short brown curls were bouncing as she jumped up and down in excitement.

They did have the best five months ever, hanging out together almost every day, going to the lake, camping, fairs, and carnivals, and licking ice cream cones. Then it was time to go. Elizabeth didn't mind leaving the tiny house so much, it was saying goodbye to her friends that made her sad, but not as sad as she had expected to feel. Saying goodbye to Rosa was the worst part, but they agreed to email at least every week and visit each other every month.

Moving was crazy, even if they still owned their old house and didn't have to do it all at once. For a few days some of their furniture and other things were in one house while the rest was in the other, so something as simple as brushing their teeth could become a long search through lots of boxes and eventually a trip to the local store to buy new toothbrushes. The thing is that Dad hadn't wanted to rent a moving truck so he could save money, but really that would have simplified some things, and the gas money amounted to the same price a moving truck would be.

It was August by the time they were settled in and Elizabeth had time to explore. Now she had her own bedroom (helpful for when she woke up before Vikki, which was always) with a bookshelf on one wall, her bed on another along with the door, and her closet and dresser on the third wall. The walls were a sunny yellow and would soon be full of photos of friends and sketches of birds and flowers. On the fourth wall was a beautiful bay window with a view of the backyard, the woods behind it, and the mountain rising up behind the woods. It was her dream room, and Elizabeth could not wait to explore what lay beyond the window.

Elizabeth slowly walked through the woods, paying attention to every beautiful detail. Seeing something shimmer in the mid-morning sunshine, Elizabeth ran towards it, holding up her pioneer dress. She had worn it because she thought nobody would be around to see. Elizabeth must have looked quite silly splashing in the water in her old-fashioned dress, but she was having fun. She was in fact having so much fun that she didn't notice the girl approaching.

"Hello there! You look like you’re having fun!" the girl said.

"Oh! I was just looking for my bracelet. I dropped it,” Elizabeth immediately lied. She looked down, pretending to search, and saw the hem of her costume. Oh no! This was embarrassing. Then her eyes traveled out a bit and she saw a hem much like hers. The girls stared at each other for a moment. Elizabeth stared at the other girl's light blue, flower-speckled dress, white apron, and lacey collar. The dress was slightly loose on the girl's thin frame, also it was a bit wrinkled and had a few dirt stains. The girl had wavy blonde hair in a bun at her neck, which was messy in a pretty way. What was most interesting about this girl was her bright green eyes, which were big and curious.

Meanwhile, those curious eyes were studying Elizabeth. Her dark brown hair was in two loose braids, tied with ribbons, under her bonnet and her face, though startled and confused, was friendly. The soaked skirt of the dress looked very comical.

"Nice dress,” Elizabeth said at last in a quiet voice.

“Yeah, you too," the other girl giggled.

"I'm not really looking for a bracelet,” Elizabeth admitted.

“I didn't think it would make sense to chase it upstream,” the observant girl said. “I’m Emily, what's your name?" she asked.

“My name is Lizzie,” Elisabeth said.

"Is that short for Elizabeth?" Emily asked. Elisabeth nodded. "Why would you shorten it? Elizabeth is such a pretty name,” Emily said.

“Actually, I agree with you, it’s just that it sounds old fashioned and I don't want anyone to think I'm weird,” Elizabeth said, deciding she could probably tell Emily, who had already seen the costume and wore a similar one.

"Why do you care if they think you're weird? You are but in a good way like me. Who cares who knows it,” Emily said.

This turned a light on in Elizabeth's brain. "Ok, I think I can be myself at school, if you help. I'm going into fifth grade this year; do you think we'll be in the same class?" Elizabeth asked.

"No, I'm not going to school here,” Emily said sadly.

"Oh, I thought since you live around here..." Elizabeth began.

"Actually, I don't... anymore, I was just taking one last walk through the woods. I didn't realize you moved in already, " Emily said, trying not to cry.

"Oh, I get it. You used to live in the house my family just bought,” Elizabeth said.

"Sort of..." and then Emily broke into tears.

Once she had stopped her tears, Emily motioned for Elizabeth to follow her deeper into the woods. Presently the girls came to a clearing which was surrounded by a thick circle of pine trees. In the center of the clearing was a quaint wooden cottage. It looked like something out of Little House on the Prairie, but not quite so welcoming. Through the window Elizabeth saw that it was empty. The whole place felt lonely. Emily gripped Elizabeth's hand tightly and tears slowly rolled down her thin cheeks again. “This was your home, wasn't it,” Elizabeth whispered. Emily nodded. “Why are yον leaving?"

Taking a breath, Emily began to explain. "My Dad lost his job last year. The company went bankrupt. At first we stayed at our house while he looked for a job, but then the bank took it because we couldn't pay. Not knowing what to do, Dad turned to a friend who used to live at your house. He said he didn't have the room to shelter us, but he had a lot of money and property, so he built us this cabin. It's small, but we made it home. Everything was great until the owner of that house died and his relatives decided to sell it. Since we were on his property, we had to move, too. I was just coming for one last look before we move to my aunt’s house.”

"Wait, so my family owns this cabin now?" Elizabeth asked. Emily nodded again. "Well then you can stay!"

"What?! Shouldn't you ask your parents?"

"They lecture my sister and I all the time about showing kindness and helping the poor. Of course they'll say yes!"

Emily blushed but she was too excited to be embarrassed for long. "We can be best friends!" she said.

"We'll do everything together!" said Elizabeth.

"Just promise me one thing."

“What?”

"We'll always be ourselves together, even in public."

"Deal,” Elizabeth said with a smile.

Inspiration

The soft hum of voices

Sends me into daydreams.

Every note of the encouraging message

Makes my heart sing along.

A friend's sparkling smile

Prompts me to burst.

Her funny texts

Are like candy in my mouth.

A book is a portal to another world

That I joyously bring back to my own.

Each character is so real,

It's like they're all my friends.

Swirls of color make someone's dreams

And I can't tear my eyes from the canvas.

The sheer beauty

Takes my breath away.

Life is amazing

And incredibly inspiring.

I feel buoyant and beautiful

Taking it all in.

I itch to be in action;

My fingers vibrate for the nearest pencil.

Ideas are being stirred.

I can feel it fizzing up inside of me.

The yearning is too much

When I see the world outside.

Every frosted branch,

All of the clear water,

It calls me.

I pour out all of my feelings.

With the brushes on my desk.

Intense inspiration flows from my fingertips

And a smile is always on my lips.

I dream and I create.

Maybe someday

I’ll inspire someone else

And the cycle will keep on rolling

And coloring the world.

With a Friend

Out on the water, I'm with her there.

High speed plays with our hair.

In silly selfies you can't deny

The twinkle in our eye.

We laugh and smile in the sunset.

Summer isn't quite done yet;

There's still just a splash more fun,

Going red out in the sun.

On our way back, a moonlit ride,

Still my best friend's by my side.

The silken water ripples softly.

Let loving peace wash over me.

Oh, how great to have a friend!

Our whispered giggles have no end.

That Feeling

Have you ever had the feeling

That your heart was made of air,

Buoyant as the clouds,

Beautiful and fair?

When all the good seems multiplied,

Your happiness is doubled.

When all bad feelings are left behind,

Were you ever really troubled?

I'm not sure about you, but I do.

I start to feel this way,

So peaceful and so pleased,

On a bright, vivid fall day.

When the orange trees reach and reach.

They try to touch the deep blue sky,

Which reflects the other's brightness

As the hours and days go by.

I'm reminded of my friends,

Our giggles as we play.

We laugh and laugh and laugh,

Or talk the time away!

I think that some of us are the sky,

And others make the trees.

We're made to glow brighter together

As we smile on with ease.

Wind rustles in the leaves,

I notice as each one gleams

That the sun is setting from behind.

The world is gold, it seems.

I see all of this beauty

As the leaves remember summer sun.

They put on quite a show

To keep up all the fun!

I remember this day last year

And all of the good ol’ times.

I'm excited for it all again

When there's nothing new to put in rhymes.

I always keep my eyes open.

There's always something new.

I love, love, love the past,

But there's more fun in the present, too!

Everything is so exciting!

I can't bear to wait for tomorrow,

Though I never want today to end!

There's always a thing to learn, a new way to grow.

True, school can be quite dull.

Over math I feel my eyelids drop,

But I love to know I'm learning,

And sometimes I don't want to stop!

I like it best to have art before my eye

Or perhaps a book in my hand.

I get the strangest feeling,

You might not understand.

I feel the ideas stir inside of me.

I itch to grab the nearest pencil

And pour all the inspiration out.

My hands and mind just can’t sit still!

New and Fun

“June 15, 2050

Dear Diary,

Today I boarded the Stardust. The captain, Roger Lillings, seems to like me, maybe. I think I’m in love with him. Maybe someday, Rodger and I will be married and our kid will be reading this diary. Wow, I am getting way ahead of myself!”

Ridley Lillings smiles as she reads through the old entry in her mother’s journal. Her mom really hadn’t gotten ahead of herself, Rodger proposed six years after the ship took off, and a year after that Ridley was born. Now, thirteen years later, the rocket is due to land within the week. The small family’s life is about to change as they settle in a completely different star system. Ridley shudders and continues reading.

“The ship is OK, ish. It could be more inviting. The whole place is near the size of a New York City neighborhood. In fact, the apartments look almost exactly the same as those in New York; pretty plain. I was honestly hoping it would be more different, more inspiring. At least we can decorate however we want to with what we brought. I like how the ceiling is blue to remind us of Earth’s skies, but there are windows everywhere to remind us where we are and the

adventure we are on.

We are headed for Proxima Centauri b, a cold planet that orbits the red dwarf star Proxima Centauri, which is part of the binary star system called Alpha Centauri. We are traveling 36,319 mi./hr. (which is 21.3% the speed of light) to this system which is closest to ours at just 25 trillion miles away. The trip should take 20 years if all goes well.”

Ridley stops reading in frustration.

Cindy walks into Ridley’s small bedroom after getting no response to her knock on the door.

“What’s wrong, sis?” she asks after seeing the confusing mix of emotions on Ridley’s face.

They aren’t really related, but neither has any real siblings. Ridley is sure she couldn’t ask for a cooler, smarter big sister than Cindy. Cindy needs someone to talk to (none of the 50 passengers on the Stardust are her age) and Ridley understands her more than anybody else. You could say these girls have their own type of symbiosis.

When Ridley just gives a shrug, Cindy comes over and sits down next to her on the bed.

“Did you know there are more stars in space than grains of sand on the Earth?” Cindy asks, gazing out the window at the stars that look like only white streaks because of the crazy speed. “We get to see so many more of them than most people, and think how much more there is to explore on the new planet! Don’t you see how lucky we are?” she exclaims, trying to get emotion out of her almost sister.

“But it’s all so new! I’m not ready? All that book will tell me is facts I already know about that stupid planet!” Ridley cries angrily.

“Hey, this is going to be new for me, too. I was born two years after the Stardust took off. We’re ready, and I have an idea to prove it,” Cindy says.

“Really? What is it?” Ridley asks, perking up. Cindy’s ideas are always fun.

“Before I tell you, I need your help with a hydraulic arm I’m planning on building,” Cindy says.

“Fine, but I’m bad at science,” Ridley warns.

“We’ll see about that.”

“There is no way I can be of any help building that!” Ridley panics when she sees the complicated looking instructions.

“Don’t worry, this is only a practice model. We need to be sure we can rely on hydraulics for heavy lifting since the fortress we have to let us survive for more than 15 seconds out there may cause our electricity to act up. Don’t worry about the instructions; they look confusing, new, and scary at first but once you dive in and take it step by step it’s really fun,” Cindy says.

“OK,” Ridley says, taking a deep breath. “Let’s do it.”

“First we need a square base about eight by eight inches. We can use cardboard for that,” Cindy directs. Ridley neatly cuts the piece out of a large, thick rectangle.

“Now we need something that rotates to attach the arm to,” Cindy says. A four by four square of cardboard and a brad easily solve that problem. Next they cut out four rectangles that are six by two inches. They hot glue two of them across from each other an inch from the edges of the smaller of the two squares.

“Now what?” Ridley asks, excited.

“Well, these are some other pieces of the arm. We need to attach them in a way that lets it bend,” Cindy says. She holds up the two pieces identical to those already attached.

“We can use more brads for the joint!” Ridley suggests. The instructions aren’t needed now. After that part is attached, they need two eight by two inch rectangles to complete the arm. They attach them the same way, but an inch towards the middle. Now the arm part is complete. Time for the claw.

Taking a cardboard triangle, Cindy explains the claw to Ridley. “Now cut two small rectangles and set them aside. Little bigger, perfect! OK, now you have to cut out an obtuse angle that is one inch wide.” Cindy performs this part as she explains it so now they have two of the angle. Next they face the angles toward each other and glue a rectangle to the bottom of each one. These pieces then have a brad put through both of them and are attached with it to the original triangle, still facing each other. Taking two relatively long pieces of metal wire, Cindy pokes one through the edge of each rectangle and twists it so that it will stay. Ridley does the grips by herself under Cindy’s approving gaze. First she wraps a one by two inch cardboard rectangle over each end and, after securing them with brads, adds strips of hot glue so it will hang onto things better. When they glue the completed hand on, they add counterweights to the back of the base to keep it stable. Now it’s time for the real hydraulics.

After filling four syringes with differently colored water, they attach a tube to each syringe and attach another syringe to the opposite end. Once this is done, all they have to do is position the empty syringes so once the ends push out, each one pushes on a different movable part and attach them with glue or zip ties.

Finally it’s time for the test run. Holding her breath, Ridley pushes the red syringe to squeeze the water out, into the tube, and into the other syringe. The end pops out of the filling syringe, pushes on the base it’s attached to, and causes the whole thing to spin. “It worked! It worked!” Ridley cries.

“Not bad for your first try engineering!” Cindy says, high-fiving her almost sister.

“That was actually fun!” Ridley exclaims.

“Interesting,” Cindy says with a half smile.

“What?”

“Have you ever done this before?”

“You know I haven’t.”

“Interesting.”

“OK?”

“So would you call this an old experience?”

Ridley laughs, she knows exactly what’s going on now. “No,” she says, “It would be called a new experience.”

“New and fun, now that is interesting.”

“You were right, I guess new can be fun!” Ridley realizes. “I can hardly wait to try out this new planet!” she cries. Cindy smiles, mission accomplished.

Amy's Adventure

“That's everything you'll need, and the instructions are right here. Tell me if you need anything, Ok," Dad said. Amy was looking for a hobby and Dad was a builder. Maybe building could be Amy's hobby. He wanted Amy to try building by herself to see if she was really good at it.

Amy picked up the instruction packet. It said "How to Build a Swing: an easy step-by-step project for kids," on the front in big letters.

Amy nailed together all the parts and tied the ropes after Dad drilled the holes. Amy hung the swing while Dad held the ladder. Now it was time to test it out.

Amy felt the wind in her hair and the way it gently resisted her legs as she kicked back for more speed. She felt amazing. The swing seemed to be working perfectly, or maybe not.

Suddenly Amy was flying farther, much farther, than she should have been. She was still sitting on the seat of the swing. . . but the ropes had come untied at the highest point! Amy braced herself for the impact. Her stomach fluttered in anticipation of the fall, and then something changed.

Amy was still swinging. She was as high as when she was about to fall, but she came gently back down, and up again, and down. As the swing slowed to a stop, Amy looked at her surroundings. The swing looked very different; the seat, now carved and twisted, hung from the tree on two long, deep green vines. Leaves and bright pink flowers of all sizes grew on them. Nearby Amy saw a huge deer gracefully bend down to take a drink in the lake, which sparkled in the pale sunshine. All was peaceful. Amy wasn't the least bit afraid of the large animal. The ground was all mossy hills and valleys. Trees were growing all around and big butterflies were everywhere.

''Excuse me, Mr. Deer, could you please come over here and tell me what in the world is going on?'' Amy asked. The child knew that animals do not normally talk, but she asked the question and was not at all surprised when the deer answered.

''I cannot come over, I am sorry to say. Deer are not allowed in the fairy kingdom, we may accidentally hurt someone. It is a shame, though, I've always wanted to try some of the fairies' cake,'' he said.

''Fairies? Am I a fairy now? Is that why you look so big?'' Amy wondered.

''Certainly, you came here to find a hobby and even though you don't have wings, there are many fairies who will help you as if you are one,'' the deer explained. Amy was amazed.

So the fairies helped Amy find a hobby. At first it didn't go well.

''I'm sorry I spilled your paint, Andy, I'll help you clean it up,'' Amy apologized to the art fairy.

Andy laughed and her smile sparkled just as much as her magical wings. "At least you got just the purple shade I needed, but it shouldn't be in the sky! Don't worry, I can fix it," she said. They were painting in a meadow full of flowers in all shades of purple.

''Maybe cleaning is your hobby, you could balance out your clumsiness,'' Cassie, the craft fairy, joked after Amy made another mess. The shelves lining the craft room were covered in pink slime and even Cassie's bouncy curls had glue in them.

''Wow, am I bad at singing, but at least I don't have to clean anything up this time, unless I shattered one of those big windows,'' Amy laughed to Mira, the music fairy.

"You didn't. Don't worry, I know you'll find your hobby soon," Mira said. Her big blue eyes told the truth.

Finally, Amy tried baking with a fairy named Brittany. ''OK, let's make fairy cake,'' Brittany said, ''It's sweeter than you are!'' When Brittany smiled, dimples appeared on her chocolate-colored cheeks. The tidy kitchen had everything imaginable to use for baking organized nicely. Three flower spills and a dozen broken eggs later, it wasn't looking nearly as neat.

''I'm sorry I made such a mess, I was distracted by an idea: why don't just a few fairies fly treats over to the animals. I'm sure the animals won't accidentally hurt them if there's only a few,'' Amy explained.

''What a great idea!'' Brittany said. ''Let's get started right away!''

Soon the whole kingdom was abuzz with plans for the animals. A party was planned so that all the fairies could get together to cook food big enough.

''I see you've found your hobby, little one,'' said Opal, an elderly fairy whose wrinkled face was framed in long snow white hair.

''What do you mean?''

"Well, you enjoy helping animals, and you're wonderful at it,'' Opal explained, ''It's not just animals either, look how excited everyone is because of you. A real talent you have.'' Suddenly Amy understood.

''Oh thank you! You all helped me find my hobby, and it even helps others!'' she cried.

''In Mark 9:35, Jesus says, 'Whoever wants to be first must take last place and be the servant of everyone else.' That means that if you are humble and make it your ability, or hobby, to serve others, you will become great,'' Opal said.

Amy beamed as she surveyed the scene around her. "It works fast," she said, "This is already pretty great!"

Prairie Twins

"Ma, where did you put the oven mitts? I can not find them in their usual drawer," Mary asked, looking uneasily at the pan of cornbread on the stove that would soon burn.

"I believe they are in that box on your Pa's chair,” Ma said.

‘Why on earth would over mitts be there?’ Mary wanted to ask. Instead she went to get the mitts. Mary had noticed strange things like this happening a lot lately. She was worried about Ma, and Pa too.

“I reckon there is no nine-year-old happier than me on this side of the Mississippi!" Mary's twin Carrie exclaimed as she burst through the front door. Carrie was covered from head to toe in dirt and leaves, her bonnet had fallen down and she had sunburn and lots of freckles on her nose. Carrie’s condition looked even more messy when compared to her sister’s. Mary was very clean, her dress was white with a pink rose bud pattern and it looked good as new (Carrie wore the same dress but it was more brown than white). Mary's bonnet sat primly atop her hair which was pulled back into two neat braids, completed with rosebud hair ribbons.

"Eeeek,” Mary shrieked, “Don't touch me or my stuff while covered in that muck!” she ordered.

“Alright I won't but I don't expect me not to get filthy again, I darn love those woods! I ain't never gonna leave ‘em!" Carrie said.

"Please remember to speak politely and use proper grammar,” Ma said quietly, her eyes on the ground.

“What's the matter, Ma," Carrie asked flat out.

"Don't be rude, Carrie," Mary said, though she was curious herself.

“No, I suppose I should tell you girls sometime,” Ma said.

“Tell us what?" the girls asked in unison, Mary forgetting her manners.

"Well... we're moving,” Ma said after a long pause.

“What!?" Carrie cried.

“Why?!" Mary asked.

"Have you girls seen all the flyers going about for the Oregon Trail?” Ma asked. The twins just stared at their mother dumbly. "Well it is a group of covered wagons headed for Oregon. Your Pa has been losing a lot of money lately due to a few ruffians in town so we decided that this is the best choice to make sure we can support you girls and keep you safe," Ma explained.

Mary started crying. Even though Carrie's eyes were also starting to fill with tears she was still the stronger, braver twin. She put her arm around Mary and said, "Well we can at least make use of the time we have left at this house."

"That's the spirit, we don't have to leave for another month, I should have known that my Carrie would find a way to look on the bright side,” Ma said, giving both girls a big hug.

That month was wonderful, the most fun that was ever had at the Rightworth cabin. After chores the days were filled with swimming in the pond for Carrie, reading and working in the garden for Mary, and picnics for all. Then the horrid day came. The day that the twins had been dreading all month. The day they would leave the only house they had ever lived in. They would be leaving all their friends and family, never to return again.

The day they left was clear and cool. The family drove their wagon into town to meet the rest of the train. Goodbyes had been said, tears had been shed, and now it was time to start the beginning of the rest of their lives. It was 5:00 AM on September 8,1844, a date that would stand in the Rightworth family history for centuries to come. The twins would have liked to crawl back into bed, or at least to hide out in the wagon for the rest of the day. It's not like they weren't used to getting up so early, they did almost every day, but they had cried most of the previous night and were in no walking mood. With the wagon fully packed there was no room for the girls to sit. For the next two hours they walked and walked AND WALKED. Finally it was time to break for breakfast.

Their progress was surprisingly slow so they were now on the outskirts of town. Mary and Carrie scarfed down their oatmeal very quickly and spent the rest of the time exploring around the other wagons. As they were walking by one of the other wagons they saw a girl sitting by one of the big wheels. Mary thought that the girl looked much older, maybe 14 or 15. She quietly kept walking out of respect and shyness. Carrie noticed that the girl held a book and was contently sketching a nearby flower. “Hello!" Carrie said, "I'm Carrie and this is Mary, what are you doing?" she asked.

"Um, hi, I'm Eliza," the girl said quietly.

“That's nice, what are you doing?" Carrie demanded again.

"Oh me, I'm just drawing. I promised my Ma that I would write to her about everything but words can't describe this beauty. I vowed to myself to sketch all the scenery and send it to Ma with my letters,” Eliza said.

"Why isn't your Ma coming with you?" Carrie asked bluntly.

“She can't, she is pregnant. My Pa is staying back with her, my uncle brought my little sister and I here with him. If all goes well Ma and Pa will come in about a year.” Eliza's eyes filled with tears but she tried to hide it.

“How terrible for you,” Mary said sympathetically, "Why did they send you ahead?" Carrie asked.

“They said it was to keep me safe but I think they just wanted to get rid of me for a while,” Eliza said miserably.

“You know that isn't true! I just met you but I think you are a very delightful person. I’m sure nobody would ever want to be rid of you,” Mary said soothingly.

“I'm sorry if I made you sad," Carrie said.

"It's fine, I needed a good talk, and some friends,” Eliza said.

"Maybe this trip won't be so bad after all," Mary said.

“Want to come walk with us?" Carrie asked.

"More walking!" all three groaned, then burst into laughter

The lessons in this story? The twins learned that however bad it seemed, they were lucky to have what they had. They also learned that friendship makes things better.

To the Prairie

Megan walked home from school one day in a deep gloom. ‘So what if I would rather work hard to get my own money then steal it from other people, that doesn't mean Ellie has to hate me,’ she thought as she kicked a pebble into the middle of the road. Being dumped by her best friend was bad enough but Megan had more problems than that. She knew that upon arriving home she would not receive a gentle hug and, "What's wrong, sweetie?" from a loving Mother but instead a, "Get out of my way you my big klutz," from her Aunt who didn't have the decency to even tell Megan how her parents died. It had always been that way as long as Megan could remember and it seemed like it always would. Megan was trying to sort out all the problems in her brain when she tripped over a crack and twisted her ankle. “Ow!" Megan tried to stand up but she fell. ‘This is just what I need right now,' she thought. Luckily she saw one of her Aunt's friends coming out of a store across the street. "Mrs. Vanderwick! Help!" The crowded city street was too loud for Megan to be heard. She began to crawl across the street to her Aunt's friend in her panic when she saw a truck driving straight towards her! The driver did not see Megan, who was too scared to move. She just stared at the truck and then fainted.

Megan suddenly sat up and looked around. She was sitting on the ground next to a stack of hay bales that was taller than she is. As Megan took in her surroundings she thought it looked like something out of her favorite book, Little House on the Prairie. Suddenly Megan saw a girl with brown braids come flying out of a nearby log cabin. A taller girl with blonde curls followed at a much more ladylike pace. Her blue dress was the exact same shade as the midsummer sky, which was not tainted by city smoke and smog. Before Megan could gather her wits the blond girl spotted her. "Laura look! There is a girl by our hay pile, she looks sad and confused. Let's see what's wrong!”

Laura rolled her eyes. "But Pa said I could help him chop wood if I finished my chores on time. She is probably just taking a walk from one of the other homesteads," she said.

“You get the water then, I want to meet this girl," the blonde girl said. So Laura walked off and the blonde girl walked over to Megan. “Hello, my name is Mary, are you alright?” she asked.

“Everything is wrong!" Megan cried, “Of course I'm not alright!"

Mary was startled but didn't show it. "Tell me what happened," she said kindly.

"Do you promise not to tell anybody?" Megan asked.

"Cross my heart." Mary said. Something made Megan pour out her entire story to Mary. Mary was a good listener and she helped Megan to get her thoughts straight.

“Wait a minute, you're Mary and your sister is Laura... Do you by chance have a sister named Carrie?" Megan asked in an excited voice.

“Ye-e-esss,” Mary said slowly, wondering how Megan knew this.

“Is your last name Ingalls?" Megan asked, her voice getting high with excitement.

"Ye-e-e-essss," Mary said nervously.

“Oh my gosh you are my favorite character in my favorite book series and your sister Laura is my favorite author!" Megan exclaimed.

"What are you talking, about!?" Mary asked, thinking Megan was insane. So Megan told Mary about the famous Series. "How do I know you're not making this up?" Mary asked.

“Um." Megan had read the books 100 times each, there had to be some proof that they were real. “Your Ma's name is Caroline Quinner and before she married your Pa she was a school teacher. That is what you want to be too when you grow up," Megan said.

Mary just stared at her and then slowly nodded. "Ok, I believe you," she said.

"Good because I need to tell you that γου are going to…”

Mary interrupted Megan before she could finish. "Please don't tell me!" Mary pleaded, "I want to accept troubles and learn from them as they come the way God designed it instead of trying to prevent what he makes happen."

"So you're saying we should just let bad things happen when we could stop them?” Megan asked.

"Sometimes," Mary said, “If God wants something to happen He will make it happen even if we try to stop it, and even if it seems bad at the time I know that whatever happens to me, it will work out for good because I love Him.” Megan was shocked at how much trust Mary had in God. She seemed very happy and content.

“Does that mean being parentless and having my best friend dump me can be a good thing?” Megan finally asked.

Mary nodded. “That Ellen girl does not seem like a very good friend, since you're already here and don't seem to have a way to get home, could I be your new best friend?" she asked.

In response Megan gave Mary a big hug. "But where do I stay, your cabin is already crowded, maybe I could stay in the barn?" Megan asked.

"I have a better idea," said Laura who had been eavesdropping for a good 10 minutes.

"Laura Ingalls!" Mary scolded.

"Sorry but listen, I saw an Indian man and woman walk by our cabin early this morning. In their eyes was the type of sadness that doesn't fade even after the many years have passed. ZThe woman held an empty baby carrier. I think their child died, maybe you could comfort them by staying with them and letting them care for you,” Laura said.

"Maybe that is why God caused you to come here,” Mary said.

"Alright,” Megan said, "Let's go but Laura, promise not to put any of this in your books.” Laura promised and they set out for the Indian camp.

Ally's New Friends

Monday: I am Ally and I am not ready for middle school. My problems all started today when I bumped into a girl named Jasmin who immediately decided to be my worst enemy. “Watch it green hair,” she said. I am not brave so instead of standing up to her I ran to the bathroom to look in the mirror. It was true, I swam in the lake so much my blond hair is tinted green. I didn't have time to wash it or do anything about it so I just put my hood up and hoped nobody else would notice. Another problem I have is my math teacher doesn't like kids. I need to fix my hair but what I really need is a friend.

Tuesday: Another bad day. I say a poster for a swim club. I was about to sign up but Jasmin and her friends came, shoved me against a locker and filled in the rest of the sheet. “It wasn't your kind of group anyway, Cabbage," she said. Now everyone calls me Cabbage.

Wednesday: You wouldn't believe what Jasmin did today. We had our first math test today and Jasmin said I was cheating on her. The grumpy math teacher sent us to the principal when I denied it. Guess what, he's grumpy too. Jasmin and I started arguing and we both got detention for today,

Jasmin seemed happy and later I found out why. She is detention queen and makes anyone in it do whatever she wants while she does nothing.

Thursday: Today I actually paid attention in some classes. I was actually happy because I made a friend. Her name is Malary and she is as short as a five-year-old. Because of that Jasmin used to tease her, But she learned to stand up to her and now she is helping me. We became friends in art class, when Jasmin was about to say something about my painting. Malary told her to leave me alone and then we got to talking and now we're friends.

Friday: Another good day! I sat with Malary at lunch and met her twin sister Melody and friends Angalina and Vicky. They invited me to a sleepover tomorrow! I finally have not ons, not two, but four new friends. And they have an art club I can join.

The weekend: What a great sleepover! We swam, we watched a movie, we had popcorn and cake, we talked, we became besties, and we had fun!!

Spy Show

Ally lived on Findley lake all her life. The only thing she liked better than boating on the lake was swimming in the lake.

One day when Ally was done swimming, her ears really hurt and everything sounded weird. She had swimmers ear.

One sunny Saturday afternoon Ally walked to her friend Kathrin's house to see if she wanted to go swimming. She paused on the front step, her ears were still buzzing but she was sure she also heard their other friend Andy inside. She didn't mean to eavesdrop but she couldn't help hearing one of them say "Ally is our top suspect.”

Ally burst into the house, Kathrin and Andy screamed and jumped up on the couch. "How dare you suspect me!" Ally yelled.

"What are you talking about?” Kathrin asked.

“You said Ally is our top suspect,'' Ally said.

"Oh,” Andy said, “that wasn't us it was the TV.” That was embarrassing.

“It’s ok,” Kathrin said, “Wanna watch the grand finale of Undercover with us?"

The Friendly Thief

Once upon a time there was a brave detective named Marietta. Marietta was 15 years old and probably the keenest detective in the country.

She lived in Buffalo, New York right down the street from the mall where her mom works.

One day Marieta asked her best friend Ariona if she wanted to go to the mall Saturday. “Sorry, I have to babysit Charlet," Ariana said. That was weird, Charlet loved the mall.

And so Marietta decided to go to Ariana’s to help babysit on Saturday. She would surprise her!

However, when Marieta got to Ariona’s house Ariona's Mom said that she went to the mall, and Charlet was at home. She decided to go to the mall and

try to find her.

Then she went to the mall. She checked all Ariona's favorite stores but didn't find her. It was one o'clock and Marieta decided to go to the food court for lunch. When she was just sitting down to eat Marieta heard a yell.

“Hey, give that back!" Marieta stood and saw a dark haired girl running out of the jewelry store with the clerk chasing her. Marieta hid behind a plant to get a better look while they ran by. She jumped out suddenly. "Ariona!" she gasped.

"Mary,” Ariona said.

In the end Ariona explained that she stole a necklace because she didn't have enough money to buy her mom a birthday present. They hardly had enough money to pay for their house. Marietta couldn't stay mad even though stealing was wrong. She hugged her and gave her all her allowance. Ariona never stole ever again.

The Girl with the Purple Bonnet

Once there was a girl named Charlet. She was almost 10 years old and as rambunctious as a six year old boy. “I'm going out Mama!” she called as she flew down the stairs of their small house towards the door.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" her mother asked.

“Oh, right,” Charlet got a few crackers from the kitchen cupboard and started back towards the door.

“Something else?" her mother eyed Charlet’s bonnet on a hook by the door.

“Do I have to wear it?" she asked.

"Yes, you do," her mother said firmly.

“Fine, "Charlet said, planning on taking it off as soon as she was out of sight.

"I know what you're thinking,” her mother said.

"How can you know what I'm thinking when I haven't said it?" Charlet wanted to know.

"Mothers know, now keep the bonnet on," was the only response she could get.

“Yes Mama,” she said, running out the door.

"Ladies don't run!” Mama called after her, but Charlet was already gone. Mama sighed, she opened her sewing box and looked at the pieces of purple cloth inside it. This plan better work, if it didn't work, what would? Meanwhile, Charlet was exploring the woods behind their house. What was that glimmering in the distance? She slowly started walking towards it. Was that... a creek! Charlet ran and splashed into the glassy, clear water. After splashing around for a while, she decided to go back to the apple tree and have a snack of cracker and apple.

On her birthday Charlet woke up bright and early. She hurriedly threw on her favorite purple dress and ran downstairs to the special breakfast she only got to have once a year. She inhaled the warm smell of cinnamon pancakes and syrup. There were also apples from the tree outside, crackers, and whipped cream. For lunch she would be able to have whatever she wanted, Charlet wanted chocolate. For dinner they would have the usual pork and cheese cubes. The best thing about dinner was Charlet's best friend Anabel would be there. Charlet sat down and found a small red package at her place setting. "I thought we were going to save all my gifts for tonight," she said, delighted.

"We decided to give you one in advance,” her mother said as she sat down.

"But first let's eat this delicious breakfast while it's still hot," her father added. With that they prayed and dug into the hot breakfast. Charlet wanted to open her gift but a meal like this could not be rushed. Once they were all done eating (Charlet’s parents took longer than she did) Charlet opened her present. As she tore off the red paper, Charlet saw something purple. As she ripped off the rest of the paper, a purple bonnet and apron. "Uuuuum, thanks,” Charlet said, hanging the bonnet on a hook and putting the apron on. At least it was purple.

That night after dinner Charlet and Anabel scurried up to Charlet's room to play with her new doll (Anabel gave it to her). "I should have bought one of my dolls," Anabel said. "I'm bored."

Charlet sighed, “Me too," she said, then she brightened. "I know what we can do." Charlet led Anabel down the stairs and motioned for her to be quiet as they passed the kitchen, they grabbed their bonnets and rushed outside.

"I thought you weren't supposed to go outside after dark," Anabel said.

Charlet shrugged. “At least I'm wearing my bonnet," she said, “Besides, fall is here and it's getting dark so much earlier."

Anabel wasn't so sure. “But your mother said..."

Charlet interrupted, "I was going to wait until you could see yourself but I found a creek.”

Anabel instantly forgot about her fear, "Well what are we waiting for!"

"This is amazing! Want to explore further that way?" Anabel asked, pointing downstream.

"Sure!" Charlet said. The woods were beautiful at night with the trees silhouetted in the moonlight. The creek sparkled like a black pearl under the stars. They had been splashing and giggling for a while when Anabel saw something.

“Is that a CAVE?" she exclaimed.

"I hope so," Charlet said, running towards it. "It IS a cave," she said, pulling Anabel in.

"We shouldn't go in there," Anabel said, worried, "What if a raccoon lives there?"

Charlet rolled her eyes. “Racoons are nocturnal, so they're probably out getting dinner."

"What if they come back to eat it, and have us on the side!" Anabel exaggerated.

“You’re such a scaredy cat,” Charlet mumbled. Anabel would NOT be called a scardy cat.

"I found this cave so I'm going to be the first to go in it," with that Anabel squared her shoulders and marched in.

"What can I say, I know my friend," Charlet said as she followed her friend into the cave.

“Did you hear that?" Anabel asked. They were pretty far in the cave and she was getting scared again.

"Did I hear what?" Charlet asked.

"It sounded like a bat," Anabel said with a shaky voice.

"Did you say b-b-bats," if Charlet was scared of one thing it was bats. She shook it off. "It was probably just your imagination," she said. Both girls were silent for a minute, listening. Suddenly, Charlet screamed! A bunch of rocks fell, blocking the entrance to the cave.

"What is so terrible that you trapped us in here?” Anabel asked in a loud whisper.

"Something brushed against my back," Charlet told her.

“Do you think it was..." Anabel started.

“Bat!!" Charlet interrupted.

“I can finish my own question," Anabel said.

"No, there’s a bat flying over you!" Charlet yelled.

Now it was Anabel’s turn to scream. "We have to get out of here!” she was on the verge of tears.

"How?" Charlet asked.

"We have to stay calm!" Anabel didn't sound very calm.

"Ok stop screaming," Charlet was screaming herself.

Anabel took a deep breath. “Ok, there has to be some way out of here, we just need to find it," she said.

"Ok,” Charlet said, “There's a crack of light over there, maybe we can widen it and get out." Anabel looked at the crack and tried to think where it would be on the outside. “We can dig with rocks," she said.

"Great idea!" Charlet said, looking for a sharp stone.

Anabel leaned back and sighed, "It feels like we have been digging for hours and all I've done is ruin my best dress." Charlet couldn't deny that it had been hours but she could deny that they weren't getting anywhere.

"We did get somewhere," she said. “Now I can stick my hands through the hole and wiggle them a little bit."

Anabel shrugged and then started singing. "I got a God who loves me, who watches over me-e. I got a God who loves me. He's every-thi-ing I ne-ed." Charlet joined in on the second verse. “I got a God who loves me with deep unfailing love. I got a God who loves me. He watches fro-om abo-ove.”

"God will give us strength to get out of here," Charlet whispered. Anabel nodded and they kept singing and digging.

"Charlet! Anabel! Is that you?" came a voice from outside the cave.

“Papa?” Charlet was almost scared to believe it was him.

"How did you girls get stuck in there?" he asked.

“Long story,” Anabel said.

"We’ll explain later,” added Charlet.

"Help! There are bats!" Anabel cried. Papa took his pipe and helped them move away the rocks until there was a hole big enough for the girls to fit through.

"Papa!" Charlet threw herself into his arms. After hugging his daughter and making sure she was ok, Papa became stern again.

“You two are in big trouble for sneaking out," he said.

"We're sorry Mr. Yearlington, we won't do it again,” Anabel assured him.

“I know you won't, now let's go home," Papa said, taking their hands.

"Do you know how I found these girls?" Papa asked Mama.

"Dear me, how?" Mama was quite startled by the earning's events.

"I heard them singing, ‘I got a God who loves me,’" he told her.

"I stitched those exact words on Charlet’s bonnet strap,” Mama said.

"It must have reminded us even though we didn't know," Anabel said.

"This sure is one special bonnet,” Charlet agreed.

“Not as special as God's love," Mama reminded them.

Grace, Rachle, and Emily

Grace was a sloppy tomboy. She took a bath every two months. She was 16 years old. Her sister Rachle loved all things nature and animals, she was 17 years old. Their friend Emily was very rich and very fancy. Her least favorite things were dirt, chipped nail polish, and messy hair. She was 16 years old.

One day in mid-November Rachel and Grace burst through the door to Emily's house. "Great news!” Rachle exclaimed.

"Woa!" Emily said, “You are NOT coming in my house with those muddy boots on.”

"Sorry,” Grace said, taking her shoes off.

“It's ok,” Emily said, “What's the news?"

"We get to go on a week-long camping trip," she exclaimed.

“A week in the wilderness!" Rachle said, "Isn't it exciting?”

“Yeah, exciting,” Emily said with no enthuseasum.

“It'll be great!” Rachle exclaimed, ignoring Emily.

"We leave next week so you should get to packing," Grace said.

"Great," Emily said. The tone in her voice said she did not think it was too great.

"Party pooper,” Rachle mocked.

“See you in the woods," Grace called as she left without her shoes.

"Um, Grace," Emily reminded her.

"Oh, right," Grace put her shoes on and left.

1 Week Later

“Emily was supposed to be here 2 hours ago, where could she be?" Grace asked.

"You know her,” Rachle said, "She probably couldn't decide which shoes to bring.” Just then the doorbell rang and Emily hobbled in lugging 7 suitcases.

"Oo!" what's in there?" Grace asked, opening one and rummaging through the fancy clothes.

"Why do you need so many clothes?" Rachel asked.

“Never know when you slobs might stain it," Emily said.

“Never,” Grace said, setting down a pair of now stained capris.

“What's in the rest of the suitcases?" Rachle wanted to know.

"That one has more clothes, the rest have parts of my bed, hair products, makeup, and electronics,” Emily told them.

“Wow!” Grace said.

"A bed? for camping?" Rachle was bewildered.

“What am I supposed to sleep on? The ground?" Emily asked. Grace rolled her eyes.

"Ok let's go," Rachle said, walking out the door.

5 hours later

"Rachle, do you know where we are going?" Grace asked.

"Absolutely, the campsite,” Rachle said.

“She has no idea how to get there," Grace whispered to Emily.

“Tell me I don't have to stress about this, I can not get a pimple,” Emily said.

"Oh forget about your face,” Rachle said. "We’re lost."

10 minutes later

"Rachle, did it ever occur to you that wandering around here is just getting us more lost?” Grace asked.

"We've passed that same tree at least 6 times," Emily said boredly.

“There are other trees," Rachle said, "But you're probably right, let's set up camp here." Rachle and Grace set up the tent.

5 minutes later

"That's it?" Emily asked, looking at the small tent that was just big enough for three sleeping bags. "How will my bed fit in there?" she asked.

"It won't," Rachle said.

"I guess I'll just have to sleep outside,” Emily said, looking at the sky to see if it would rain.

“Ooo!” Grace got in the big fluffy bed.

"Aaa! get out of my bed!” Emily screamed.

Grace got out and revealed that she had left a big dirty smudge on the neat white sheets.

"Never mind you can have it." Grace shrugged and flopped down. Emily growled. Rachle laughed.

“Well now your choices are cold ground or Grace's sleeping bag.” Emily would rather sleep on a bed of nails than in Grace's sleeping bag.

“Cold hard ground it is,” she said.

9 hours later

Grace’s hand fell to the ground and she woke up with a start. The ground was was covered

in snow. The bed was covered in snow, but the only cold parts of Grace's body were her face and her hand. The blankets were very thick. She wanted to get out of bed and surprise Rachle and Emily with a pre-breakfast snowball fight but when Grace tried to push the covers away they wouldn't move. They were tucked in too tight and the top two layers were frozen solid. You would think that Grace could just fall back asleep but she was on the basketball team and had to get up at 5:30am every morning. Thankfully, Rachle was also an early bird, getting up at 6:30am to watch the sunrise. "How did YOU wake up so early?" Rachle asked, coming from behind the tent.

“I will have you know that I get up at 5:30 every single morning, basketball or not," Grace sounded offended.

“It's 7:00, why are you still in bed?" Rachle asked. "This bed is really comfy so I slept late... and I'm a little stuck," Grace said. Rachle rolled her eyes and tried to untuck the covers. They were too frozen to untuck.

“How did it get like this anyway?" Rachle asked, “You never tuck your covers in." That was the first time Grace ever thought of how it happened.

"I don't know,” she said. Rachle tried again to untuck the covers but they would not come.

“I can't get you out," she said.

Grace screamed, "I have to go to the bathroom and it's so hot under here that I feel like I sweated off at least 6 pounds.” Emily slowly stepped out of the tent, groggily rubbing her eyes.

"What's all that noise? I'm trying to sleep,” she asked.

"Long story," Rachle said.

"Somehow my sheets and blankets got tucked in and frozen down,” Grace told her.

"I can't get her out,” Rachle added.

"Oh, I, uh, wonder how that happened,” Emily said as she backed into the tent.

"What do you know?" Rachle asked Emily, who was acting awfully suspicious.

"I tucked the sheets in during the night because I was mad at her for stealing my bed,” Emily burst.

“Seriously?" Grace said.

"Well I didn't know it would snow!" Emily yelled.

"Well you knew I hate my covers tucked in!” Grace shot back.

“I’ve told you a thousand times not to touch my stuff!" Emily screamed. Rachle was, as usual, the peacemaker.

"Calm down, Grace shouldn't have stolen the bed and Emily shouldn't have tucked her in. Can you get over it?” Rachle said.

"Alright, alright, alright," Grace said.

“Fine,” said Emily.

"So any ideas on how to get me out?" Grace asked. Rachle looked around the campsite.

“I guess we could start a fire and use it to melt the ice,” she said.

"I'm already sweating to death now, do you want me to burn to death?” Grace would not have it.

"Or we could use my heating pad and not kill our friend,” Emily said.

"You have a heating pad?" Rachle asked.

"I happen to have very sensitive feet," Emily stated.

"Who cares!" Grace yelled.

"Well we need electricity, "Rachle pointed out. Emily thought about that. “If we had a battery that might work."

Grace had a solution, "I have a battery powered video game,” she said. "It might work if we could wire it right."

Rachle said that she knew a little wiring from Save the Earth Camp. So they wired it up and Grace was free and she learned not to touch Emily's stuff. Emily learned to control her vengeance and Rachel learned that her best friends were total wackadoos. They managed to enjoy the rest of their trip and stayed best friends forever and ever.

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