Boys and Girls Ultimate: State Championships
Teams must qualify
Mi llamo Wynn Geary. Tengo catorce años. Mi cumpleaños es doce en Febrero y soy de Filadelfia. En Filadelfia es mucho mucho frío y no me gusta nada. Cuando tengo tiempo libre me gusta escuchar música (me enchanta "noah and the whale" aquí aye vidéo), me gusta surfear la red y pasar un rato con amigos y depende del día ir a la escuela donde yo puede estar con mi mejor amigos. No me gusta nada bailar ni escribir. Mi es, sociable también artístico, creativo, Moreno, y muy extraño. me decencia europea, specifically alemáno, irlandéso, italiano y galés. ¿Y tú? ¿cómo eres?
Bueno, me voy porque tengo que completamente me tarea
Chow, Wynn Geary
P.S. Añádeme en facebook (Wynn Geary) y Sígame en twitter @WynnGeary
I am Christopher, a spy on vacation to have the chance of experiencing the life of a high school student. This would be a hard process for me but I love challenges. There is obviously nothing wrong with a 26 year old in a freshmen class. I had the choice to choice between 4 of the grades but I want the whole experience. From the beginning to the end I want to see how it feels.
Shoes tied tight, pants on tight snap back on. I wanted to blend in. The only thing that made me different was this 5 O’clock shadow. But I could just be a early bloomer. The bell rang I got to my first class. All I have to say is wow. I think this will be a good time. First class, was so easy. I mean all we did was talk to my teacher about who I am. It was heard to make up a lie and keep with it for the whole day. I swore today I am like 10 different people to many of my teachers. But they won’t ever find my true Identity. Class went on everything was a breeze. Then lunchtime came. Since I was new to this school I didn’t know anyone. But since I wasn’t the only one that was feeling this way it was easier to make some friends. I saw this kid sitting on the table just staring at his shoes. I decided to go up to him and said “Hey nice shoes”. He responded with a nicely said thank you. After that I decided to start a conversation with him. We basically just talked about video games girls and fighter. It seemed to be that my new friend and I (Rick James) had a lot in common. Besides our dislikes we are very alike. Rick James was from Europe. Melbourne, Australia. I always wanted to go there, but you know being a full time spy I don’t have for those types of vocations. There is actually a good reason why I am being a high school student except for the experience. It seems that there is another spy doing the same I am and is attended the same high school I go to. The current high school is called LHhs (Lion house high school). Pretty small school, but I seem to love it. Lunch ended, and it was time for my next class. All I heard was screaming a chanting. Me being a spy, I get my guard up and hold onto my gun. I was about to pull it out, but I then noticed that I’m still in school, so the only possible thing I could do at this moment is hide. So under the table I went. It was such a awkward moment because I was the only one moving. My teacher then soon told me that it was only a small fight about to break out, but everything is under control now. My school day ended and I decided to go home and do research on this Rick James dude, just in case he is not apart of my mission. My heart started bursting up, loud breather is all I hear. It seems that Rick James is a European spy that was sent to get the files of the government. The files that he is looking for is files about the U.S spy system (USSS). Once he gets a hold of this, he can and will just conquer the untied states and put us in a big war. I knew I couldn’t have a fight with out a good night sleep so sleeping I go.
7:00 out and on my way to school. I went thought my day like usually. I saw Rick James and confronted him. Everything I said was correct. Since this was a high school we took this like high school students. We had a street fight. But this time we will be fighting until the end. We called out bosses over to watch from afar. The goal of this fight is if Rick wins then I have to back down. But if I win he has to back down. The bell rings we being to fight. 2 punches fly on me, but I took it and countered. Once I got a hold of him he was done. And I did. All you saw was a quick jab to the eye and down goes Rick.
Rick has fallen back now, and my high school life continues on because I would still love to have this feeling, also I just solved my case.
Next pitch, I put down four fingers telling him to throw the change. I really wanted to fool the hitter here. Pitch was right on the inside corner. I remember the loud yell from the ump.
I looked over at the batter. He was kind of shot and pretty skinny. I knew he was one of his team’s fastest players. He could hit too according the scouting report all though he was in a slump during the series. I looked over at their base runners, then back at the pitcher.
The ballpark was silent. I put down two fingers signaling for him to throw his breaking ball. He wound up, with the season on the line. Nervous fans were on their feet, one strike away. The atmosphere was electric. The pitch was on its way. It was coming in at about 74 mph, yet it felt like it was coming towards me slower.
The ball curved sharply downward into the dirt. The ump called it low and outside. I had to leave the crouch to block the ball. I looked the base runner back to third.
One ball, and two strikes was the count on the batter. I threw down one finger for the fastball once again. I just wanted the kid to throw a strike so maybe we could get a groundball or something.
“Come on kid.” I kept thinking.
The pitch came in. It was a ball way inside. The batter did an overly dramatic jump out of the box, to show the ump how inside it was.
Two balls, two strikes on the hitter. Opposing fans started getting a little bit more rowdy. I wasn’t sure what I wanted him to throw. I ended up putting down two fingers yet again, signaling another breaking ball. My heart was pumping a mile a minute. The pitch crossed the plate. The hitter checked his swing.
It was a full count and I couldn’t believe the ump called that just outside.
I ask the ump for time. I could sense the nervousness in the kid. I ran out to the mound, our Skipper right behind me.
Skipper was asking us “What do you feel comfortable throwing him right now?”
The kid told him he thought his fastball or changeup could work. It was also a shock to hear him talk because he had such a thick Dominican accent. Skipper looked over at me for my point of view. I told him that I liked the changeup in this situation. The hitter had to be expecting the heat with a full count, so why not give him the slow stuff to fool him. The ump ran out behind us. He told us to finish up our meeting.
Everyone went back to their positions. I threw down my four fingers, which told him to throw the changeup. He went into the stretch. The runners took off.
The pitch was a hard hit grounder, towards the shortstop. The runner sprinted out of the batter’s box there was almost no chance to get him at first. I knew the throw was coming towards me. I touched the plate with my foot, knowing that there was a force at any base.
I heard people on both sides yelling, “Home, home, throw it home.”
It all came down to this. The runner was barreling towards me. I was so scared yet so focused on what would be the outcome of the play. He stuck his head down toward my chest. The ball was almost in my glove. As the ball hit my glove, I felt as if a freight train had just hit me. I fell back, as the runner fell forward. The wind was beyond knocked out of me. I heard the ump yell something, but the call just blurred out. And then the rest just blacked out. I don’t know how many hours have passed by since all this. I’m really anxious. Can you please tell me what happened?
Ms. Brown, now I know that you said I couldn’t come back to your motel, but I have nowhere else to go. (Sigh) If you turn me away I will freeze, it’s 12:00 in the morning and it’s cold outside. It’s not even my fault that I got kicked out of the house this time. Someone, which is my brother, set me up I just know it. If I tell you what happened will you then let me stay? (Pause)
(Walk back and forth) Ok, so I was in my room dancing and singing to my favorite song by Chris Brown, until my mom came in my room. “Joesy, I’m out with a couple of friends so look after your brother until I get back. Oh, and make sure that nothing happens to my crystal my mom gave to me.” When she left I continued to dance and sing. My little brother Joshua came to me saying that he was hungry so I went downstairs with him. He was in a playful mood that he almost knocked over the crystal so I yelled and told him to sit down. After I got him something to eat I went back upstairs. I was minding my own business, when Joshua came to my room again. “ Josey I want a twinkie. Give me a twinkie!” I told him that we didn’t have anymore but he kept saying that we did because the box was on top of the refrigerator. I told him that there was nothing in the box so he got mad. Twenty minutes later I hear a crash downstairs, so I run down to the living room to see what it was. And I see that mom’s crystal was on the floor broken into a million pieces. I panicked and started to pick the pieces up when my mom came through the door. “AAHH!! Why would you do this to me? I told you to make sure that nothing happens to my crystal and I come back and see this.” “But mom, I didn’t do this, Jousha did.” “I can’t believe that you would blame your little brother for something you’ve done.” “But mom I…” “Stop no more excuses. I can’t take this anymore with you arguing with me or getting into trouble. I’m just done! Get out of my house.” “Mom, you’re going to kick me out because your crystal is broken?” ”No, I’m kicking you out because I’m tired of your drama. You’re always getting into fights, arguing with people, and getting put away. So get out my house.”
After we argued I went to my room to pack my things when Joshua came back in my room smiling and laughing. And before I left I tried to tell my mom that it wasn’t me but she didn’t want to hear it. I went to some of my other friends’ houses but their mom don’t like me but I know that you do so that’s why I’m here now. Hoping that you will help me.
So can I please stay, I promise that I won’t bother your costumers. I won’t even be here in the daytime; only at night to go to sleep. (Pause) Ok…fine (gets mad) let me go out in the cold to freeze. No shelter, no heat, no food. I thought you would be different from the others but I see that you’re exactly the same. (turns around goes to door then stops)
(speaks to herself) Why don’t people like me? I try to do everything for them and they treat me like this. I feel alone, like no one cares. And here I am trying to get help from someone, who I thought I could trust but looks like I can’t. I might as well just steal a key to get a room. That’s it! Why stay outside in the cold when I can just steal a key and be warm. Wait…No… I can’t… she trust me and so does her daughter. We’ve been best friends since 1st grade. I can’t do this to her, to them. What am I going to do? I try to do everything right but it always seems to come back to bite me. (Cries a little)
(turns around to see if she’s still there) You’re really going to send me out there in the cold? What kind of an adult are you? And out of all people, out of the whole world, I thought that at least you would see where I’m coming from. (Mrs. Brown holds up a key) Are you serious? You are giving me a key to a room? (hugs) Oh thank you, thank you, thank you! I’m sorry about what I said earlier, I didn’t mean I, I was just mad that’s all. I promise that I’ll pay you for the all the time I stay. Matter of fact (gets money and hands to Ms. Brown) here is some money for this week.
(walks away to room)
As I stand here in a supermarket, seeing this food is like a golden piece of heaven, handed to me for free. Running up and down each isle, ripping and grabbing every piece of junk food putting it into my Jansport. (Stop and Stare) A small open buffet style food cart with Chicken, Mac n’ Cheese, Cabbage, Rice and Mash Potatoes. The thought of this being my first hot meal in two months, drinking my favorite soda, forgetting about the life of hell I would be going back too. (Sigh of relief) (Flashback)
Do you remember the first time you and dad took me to the zoo? Seeing the smile on my face as I ran after the birds. Do you remember seeing me cry over, the thought that, the animals were getting hurt in the cage’s? Do you? Because I know I don’t remember.
Panicking, frustrated, realizing the play money from monopoly that once filled my pocket, is now gone. Walking and Walking, getting closer to the line, I shoved my hand inside my pocket, pulling out lint and stolen chips. I realize that 10 minutes of heaven is now a lifetime of hell.
Do you remember you and mom teaching me how to ride my bike. Do you remember at night when I thought that the boogieman would get me and how you stayed up all night so that I would know I was safe. Do you? Because I know I don’t remember.
Mom and Dad
Do you remember when I said you guys are my hero’s? Do you remember when you asked me what I want for Christmas and I said a brother or a sister. Do you? Because that seems like the only thing I remember about us being together as a family.
I lost my mom and my dad all in the same month. I know I’m 18 but I have 3 siblings, who need somewhere to continue on living. But I promised to be my brother and sisters keeper. Signs of stress, Tiara and Tiana failing school, Isaiah getting into trouble with the law.
Are you out there? If so I need help, I’m tired, I want to give up, send me help please!
Lord please, Mom and Dad, you guys are missed everyday and we love, we will see you guys again one day. (Walk off crying)
“What the HELL is wrong with you! It was an accident! You didn’t have to beat him to death! Fear was no longer a registered word in my vocabulary. Seeing my friend, my diary, the man I told everything too, my mentor dead at my feet, that overfilled the cup of hate I had towards the guards.
If I hadn’t looked at him, I wouldn’t of saw the sheer fright in his eyes. He knew what he did was wrong, but he tried to keep his composure. Standing on a large boulder in the middle of the yard, the Death Valley sun beaming at my forehead, I did what I hadn’t done since my trial: spoke my mind. “My brothers, and that’s exactly what we are now. Not by blood, but by bond and hardship. We can no longer allow these oppressive tyrants to slaughter our souls! We can no longer stand back and watch one of our brothers get the leather belt across his face. The day for revolution has come, and this damn sure will not be televised! We pray to be delivered from evil every night, today YOU HAVE THAT CHOICE! MAKE IT!” Silence washed over the entire yard while I awaited the fist of these human devils.
“Miguel, wake up! It’s snowing!” My baby sister scared the heck out me, but in doing so, she got me up and running towards a nearby window. Pull the blinds up in a flash. It’s no lie. Snow was falling from the gray clouds in the sky above. Falling, falling beautifully. A smile appeared on my face. It was my first time seeing snow. Seeing snow reminds me what happened about a year ago.
I go back to Puerto Rico. It’s a place where you would never see snow down there. You’d see the beauty of the Tropics, the white sandy beaches, the crystal clear Caribbean Sea, palm trees swaying in the warm tropical wind that would flow over us. My community was a great community. My family and I knew everyone around us, and everyone knew my family and me. We would walk into stores for buying food, clothing, etc, and they would say hello or wave to us, and then we’d get into conversations about how has our day been, what’s been going in your life, the latest gossip, chats like that. (The gossip refers to my Mom.) My community was a community I loved. So if it was a good community, why did I leave Puerto Rico? It turns out I had no choice. Like all good things, they must come to an end. We struggled financially for a certain time. I knew it. We couldn’t make payments on our home. It wasn’t looking good.
We had to move out, but where? The answer was kind of obvious. The United States. We packed up what we needed, clothing, food, merchandise that mattered to us. Stuff like that. We made sure we didn’t forget the papers and passports. My Mom kept nagging Dad about it. One more of those, and Dad was ready to flip out. I was ready to flip out as well. I mean, I know she’s want to make sure we don’t forget anything we need, but it’s like she pokes us about it. She’s like “Hey, hey. You get the papers and passports. Did you? We can’t forget them.” Okay, we won’t the damn thing! I ready to here from Dad, but he never said it. Even when we got into the country, he stayed cool.
Speaking of coming into the country, America was a new experience for us. We entered JFK International Airport. That’s in New York City. We saw buildings reach up high in the sky, many automobiles, so many people in suits. There were so many things in New York City. However, there are some bad things in America I heard of. Lots of violence, an obesity problem (which was kind of obvious), and “party hooters.” The first night in our new American home, and the party hooters I told you about, yeah… it was a rough night for our family. At first I didn’t think this could work.
5 days being in our new home, I told Mom, “I don’t this could work.” She asked what I meant. I told her, “We moving to America. I mean it’s been rough these past few weeks.” Mom gave me a solution that she thought right off the top of her. “Give it time.”
With that, I think about these past months of being here, and well… she was right. Aren’t all moms right? Anyway, Mom finds a job at the New York Times headquarters. She works in a normal cubical like any other person in office. She just checks and edits a person’s article. Sounds boring. Here this, because of her work on, she got promoted to being the editor’s secretary. Dad has a job on art. I must have forgotten to mention that Dad is an artist. Loves to draw, paint, anything to make his art pop out, to inspire, to… make you feel. Apparently, what happen to start of Dad’s new art career. He made an art store on corner of where we live now, and a contractor comes into his store (I’m saying it from him), he said the contractor loved his art. Every art piece in the store had a theme to it. He offered him a deal that Dad could not refuse. He would sell his art around the world, to art museums, galleries, etc. He would supply him with his own art materials. Hearing all this from Mom and Dad, I’m like, “Wow.” I’m just amazed that we have come Puerto Rico in a financial crisis, and here we are. School is working out for me, too. I made good friends during these past months. I even showed them one of Dad’s paintings, I hear ooh’s and aah’s. One of my teachers said, “It’s remarkable. Your Dad must have an incredible mind to make such fantastic imagery.”
So yeah, I miss Puerto Rico, my old friends, my old community, but I have a new community that I like now. It’s my new home, have new friends, and I experience a weather change up here as well. I’m so use to warmth of Puerto Rico. Now I have to get used to cold winters, but at least I see a new kind of precipitation. And I can do cool activities in it as well. So I guess that wraps up my internal monologue. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going sledding.
I find myself silent, black hoodie up, lying down, arms covered over my eyes blocking the sun, what I see is the grass. The grass. And then-flashback.
I remember it was summer and this entire mini prairie that I crouch on now was alive with sunflowers, and various tall plants, like lavender. I didn’t know much about plants then (don’t know much about the now),but I knew there was something beautiful about this area that made me subconsciously venture there at my spare time, accompanied with my dog. The grass that I lay on now, was bright green and smooth then, and I always thought, this is here to stay, they-can-not-touch-it. As worn down and small fraction of what’s left of nature, it was still monumental to me, surpassing the awe of any skyscraper or city landscape you could see, To this day it is like a dying paradise. The grass passage way, always polished with dew, and the tall plants diverse with sunflowers, rabbits, spiders, hidden animals of all sorts, buzzing and moving with life. It was easy to get lost, and ignore the suburban wasteland on the other side of the creek.
So my spirit is back to the present now, in the same position, at birds eye view, I look as if I had fallen down and shielding myself from a bomb above. And then the grass I glimpse at, the grass of the now, the entire pathway, scarred by the tracks of construction machines. I’m still shielding myself, but I look away from the gruesome grass, and I try to look up ahead at the rest of the pathway. I always knew the pathway was finite. And at the end was more houses, but this time, the lovely trees that used to shelter the lost animals in it, were moving in the distance. I found this scary at first, for the fact that they were moving, but then I realized that their actually being commanded to move by the construction workers- and I’m scared at that fact even more. I sit up, and something is in my stomach. It’s the deer. The deer I saw a couple of weeks ago, there were so many that time. They were hidden, untouchable. But you saw them prancing so closely all along the half wood. Half wood, I should say nearly wood. And then they just disappeared.
‘ Oh yes I remember the deer, yes they’re shooting them off now because they are so overpopulated and lost out of their natural habitat.’ Said Justine Pierce.
Justine Pierce was a middle class, woman of bold age and bold wrinkles. She works at the Cobbs Creek Environmental Branch in Yeadon. She’s seen the same things I’ve seen. And cried the same tears, when the water department destroyed the land around the creek, last summer. I met her a last month, those were words she told me.
I watched a documentary a couple days ago called “End-Civ”, I remember a clip where an anonymous Earth First! Member talks about how they mark the trees they will leave during clear cuts. I thought about how those trees were scarred forever, as the WWII Jewish holocaust survivors were scarred for life with tattoos. Clear cuts are a holocaust. The Jews were devoured for profit, and the trees are devoured for profit.
Bears, I hear the sound of bears. Loud grizzly bears screaming, I want them to be bears. But I know they are the sounds of chainsaws and machines. And then there’s the laughter of the big bellied construction workers. They leave their coffee cups, Dunkin Donut wrappers, and gasoline tanks in on the soil. But I know I can’t be angry at them, because I know that they are just trying to make a livin’.I know they need to eat.
I walk to where there was once a beautiful landscape of trees, and I see a broken trashed up grave. And the trees, the trees, all of them piled up, past my head. Then I remember how in war they pile up the dead bodies, without proper burials. The soldiers get proper burials. I saw only a couple trees left, they were all scarred with the X’s, I saw a black cat run up the trees as my dog Poncho went after it. Then I remember all the animals that make these trees their homes. The nests these trees provide, the oxygen, they shelter the tops soil so that life can grow.
Between the sound of the construction workers laughing as they tore down trees on the other side of creek, the loud industrial roars of the chainsaws, why do I not feel shame. Why do I not feel the tears? I’m afraid to feel, but I’m even more afraid not to.
If pain is the only thing I can feel, than let me have the most miserable life I can. I don’t see the rationality in destroying your planet in the name of human progress.The earth is a finite resource, in fact it's not a resource it's a living thing. It’s not sanity to kill everything, in the requirements of a technological God? You can’t pay for the air you pollute, the water you blacken, the animals and land that we gobble up and replace with these deserts we call cities. We’re all guilty for when the time comes when we realize that our children can not eat money.
And now I just have to cry. Just sit here and cry. How could a 4 year old child, ever be so lonely. Well without you I feel just that, lonely. Looking at you melt on my shoe soles, now changing my shoes a different color, I just cry. Tasting the complete opposite of you, hot, salty tears only make me break down. I wish I had you to be sweet and cold on my taste buds. But now I’m too upset, I don’t know what to do anymore. You’re still melting and I’m still standing here with a blank and salty face, wishing you could make it better.
Before you melt completely and run down the sidewalk of the ice cream shop, do you remember that time we were on the swings, and I was so over excited that you and I were at the park on that lovely day. What about that time when we were at the amusement park, and you were running all down my hands, or even the time that you made my hands all sticky. Or do you even remember my love for you as a child? Being an adult now I have to think about many-failed relationship as being that day you fell off my cone. You taught me something; you taught me that all relationships end. Either someone gets left hopelessly, or it ends sweet and abruptly.
The bigger picture is that it could be sweet every time, but no matter what, it has to end. Ice cream now that your almost gone, I would like to tell you that you and I were meant for each other, just like the rest of my favorite desserts, who managed to terminate the relationship. I will understand, and even as an adult I will understand how things work out. The first lick is the sweetest, but the first cut is the deepest.
Welcome to the jungle. Where people here usually end up in jail, where they actually do look like animals inside of a cage. Welcome to Hell on Earth. Some days you feel as though Hell is a wonderful alternative then being in this place. Drug addicts and dealers are on every corner like clockwork. Welcome to the place that will make you or break you. Where if you do live past 21 then you will not accomplish anything. Either you are making babies or making drugs, there are no other options. Here we have no real mothers. Instead we have women who had to give up their childhood and dreams to raise their own children. Here babies have babies. Women who repeated the dreaded cycle of nothingness. Bitterness and regret run through their veins instead of blood. And fathers? Half the people here don’t even know the definition of this word. All they know is that 9 months before their birth dates their mothers had sex with some man. And the ones who do know their father only know him by a tombstone or an inmate number.
There are no houses on the hill in this place. Instead, we have houses so closed to each other that you can smell what your neighbors are cooking through your walls. No one here lives in a condo, instead they have apartment buildings whose hallways are filled with filth and urine and elevators are never in operation. Nope, there are no backyards here, alleyways are what we have. And in these alleyways there are no Mercedes or BMW cars with the top down.
The streets are covered in nothing but filthy trash, so much people can’t even tell you what color the concrete on the ground is. There is a foul smell here also, not so much an actual stinky smell; but the smell of failure. A smell that once you’re here you are here forever.
College? The kids here can’t even spell that word. Most people dropout by age 15 or 16, or just stop going. You see education means absolutely nothing. The only “higher learning” that gets done here is the high people get from smoking drugs. Only a few people have gotten out of here and got an education and better life. And the ones that did get out? Oh trust me, they have no thought of coming back. Quite honestly I don’t blame them. I mean why come back? People here think of you as a sellout or snobby, because you did what they never could.
Welcome to the place where the sun don’t shine. Only good days here are the days when no gunshots are heard. And the funniest thing of all is that this is never going to change. Poverty is always going to be the driving force that keeps people here. Something that this place never had and never will is hope.
You see I am what causes all of this, I am the reason why these people will never know or do any better. I am what keeps these people from living a better life. I am Ignorance.
I wake up, I’m still on my bed, I think about people and how they think I revolve around this quote: “Life sucks and then you die.” People think my way of being, is based on this idea. If you ask me why I always look unhappy and dress the way I do, I will probably tell you what people assume: that I really think life sucks. In a way people’s assumptions are right, but the part where they are wrong is the part where they single me out. They judge me and when they do, they also think that they are so much better and smarter than me with their “normal” clothes and behavior. People go by stereotypes. They give into society’s labels to try to fit in. Not me. Ha! Ironically, that’s what makes me better than them.
I get up and pick out my edgy clothes that people like to hate on and insult. “Shady” and “coarse” are what they call my style, and what they call me. How do I know what goes through people’s minds? I don’t. It doesn’t take a mind reader to know the judgments people make about you. You just need to have your ears and eyes open and vigilant. Once I was aware of the noises and looks about me and around me, it became obvious how people view me. It became clear simply by the looks they give me. You know, the looks that say: “I’m better than you.” What triggers those looks? I call it hatred based on an objectification. In other words, this hatred is a type of narcissism.
People let society degrade them because they’re too vulnerable, they are narcissistic to the point where they need other people’s approval to make themselves feel better. When I hear girls my age fish for compliments, all I do is think to myself: that’s one difference I will always have with most people, because sadly most people are narcissistic.
My point about people’s narcissism is that when people judge my style as “dark” and “coarse”, it’s based on their own narcissism, their own disparity to be normal, because they can’t accept that I am not narcissistic like them, and so they hate my style.
Thinking about my life and society makes my head spin. I process everything for the upcoming day, and finally get up. When I’m done getting ready, and about to head out the door, my body freezes after I head out. I hear glass shattering against the floor, and someone yelling in the background. “Great!” I think, “I’m starting off the morning just great! Worried, annoyed and tired.” Of course my dad chooses now to get angry. Yesterday he was too busy not caring about anything other than T.V. and that cheap beer bottle of his. He gets like that whenever he’s upset. It was all because of me, like it always is. I’m the reason why they fought yesterday night, and many nights before. My dad was really looking forward to going to my stupid parent/teacher conference meeting, but my mom couldn’t make it just like she can’t make it to almost anything because of her new job as a real-estate agent. “I told you yesterday that I had a meeting with a very important client. Don’t say I embarrassed you by not showing up, when I already informed you that I couldn’t go!” my mom yelled. “B.S. Miranda! You sent me a lousy text like you always do. And it’s always an important client for you! This is just always an excuse for you not to deal with our daughter. Well congratulations for being the greatest wife and mom, and leaving me with the dirt to handle!” my dad retorted frustratingly.
After this dramatic scene for me, my mom rapidly walks out through the backdoor. And I just stand there watching my dad in agony at what he’d just said. “So I’m like dirt, that you have to deal with now?” I say. I slam the door behind me, not caring that my dad is running after me, yelling “I didn’t mean it like that, honey, but you know your mom always runs away from problems. I had to say something!”
I know I shouldn’t have been hard on my dad, especially since my mom pretty much did that, but I couldn’t just let go of the fact that he was addressing me as dirt that needs to be handled.
With my “strange” style and “depressed” expression, I finally arrive at school. And like any other regular school day I barge into class late. As if my day wasn’t already miserable I realize that my first class is math. I hate math. It’s just a game with a bunch of numbers, what’s the point? It doesn’t matter at all. I mean I have an F in math and for what? For being who I am, and not liking numbers or homework? Honestly why would I do my homework when math is stupid.
I sit and drop my book bag on the floor, our teacher asks the class this complicated question. I raise my hand giving her a complicated answer. Apparently “complicated” means “smart” to my crowd of classmates, because everyone’s head turned around. They all just stare at me, astounded.
My parents can join the crowd and be astounded by my knowledge. I’m not dirt like my father said I was he made me seem like a total bimbo. I remember this one time, when I sat in math class knowing that no one believed in me just like other days in my life. Just sitting in class, with no hint of sadness in my face, because the sadness simply bled into originality. That is what my original expression looks like. It doesn’t mean I am sad, it just means I am different. That I simply grew up very fast waking up one day to realize that the world is sad.
(To self) The water is much warmer than usual. (To self) It does not smell like my home. Did we move to another location momma? I know you hear me talking to you, where are we? Where did you go? I do not want to play games right now, I just woke up and it’s very early. (To self) Okay, I guess I’ll come look for you. READY OR NOT HERE I COME!! Momma! Where are you I can’t find you anywhere? You are a very good hider; maybe we should play when I am familiar with this place though. (To self) There are no hiding places around here and I can see everything; the water is so clear. (To self) I have no clue where she would be hiding and I do not know my way around this place. I give up, I’m done looking for you momma, and you can come out now. What is that over there? Is that humans? Yay, I love humans I’m going to go play with them, and maybe they can tell me where my momma is hiding. OUCH! What is this, why can’t I get to the humans? Hello humans can you hear me? My name is Jayden Dolphin, I’m 3 years old and I’m looking for my momma. She is hiding from me and I cannot find her. Do you know where she may be hiding; I’m having trouble finding her. Why are you laughing? I am asking you a question. What did you say? I can’t hear you speak louder please? Can you hear me? STOP! What is that bright light! What are those objects all of you have? I want one too they look fun. (To self) I found one of them at the bottom of my Ocean before but I did not know what to do with it. What do they do? What are they called? Can you show me how to work it please? Are they poisoning me? STOP I do not like that, the flash is unpleasant to my eyes. Why are you all laughing? I want to know what is funny may I laugh with you? What is so funny? Please tell me? Can you speak up please? I cannot hear what you are saying. I think there is an invisible wall I cannot get through it, can you try to come over here? Then, we can swim together, you can teach me how to work the flash thing you have in your flipper, and you can tell me what is funny and we can laugh together. Come on, it will be fun. Why won’t you come play with me? Something is preventing me from going over there to you, so you have to come over here. This is not fun; I wanted to play with you all. Now my feelings are hurt, I’m going away you are not nice humans. My momma is going to hear about you, and she is not going to like you guys at all. She is going to tell your mommas and you will get into trouble. MOMMA, where are you! (To self) I do not think I am home anymore, what if I never find my momma? (To self) What if the horrible people Papa used to always talk about have kidnapped me? (To self) There are lots of yummy looking fish around here. I am hungry now. Too bad momma isn’t around right now; she could be enjoying these fishes with me. They are very delicious, and just how I like them. I have been thinking about my day today. Unfortunately, I have come to the conclusion that I am in a tank, that maybe my momma is never coming back, and that the horrible people have caught me.
I have been…CAPTURED!
We did our usual routine. I wake her up, she fusses, and eventually gets dressed, while I make breakfast…. well, cereal. As I walked down the hallway I made sure I locked the apartment, we don’t have much but the last thing I need is to have whatever we got left taken from us. We made our way down the dark hallway, with that one flickering light that can go out at any moment, and on our way to the elevator. Once we got down to the first floor, I wave to Mrs. Brown our landlord, and walked Amya to her bus stop. But this time the bus wasn’t there. I looked at my watch my dad got me the day before he got arrested. It said 7 am so where is this bus, because I really gotta get to school. If I’m late one more day that’s my ass. I can’t afford to repeat a grade, at least not tenth grade. I mean my teachers have been trying to help since they know my situation, but there’s only so much they can do. I looked down the street. There was nothing but street lights and broke down houses. No one was out which is the usual around here. People only come out at night to sell drugs and stuff. I'm safe in my neighborhood though. I kind of have street cred around here since my dad was a drug dealer. Everyone that sells drugs around here works for my dad… well use to. Her bus finally came giving me just enough time to get to school.
I got to school just in time to get to my locker and get my books for history. Just as I shut my locker I felt someone tap me on my shoulder. I turned around and I saw her. Naomi the most beautiful girl in this school, but why was she talking to me. “ Hey Daemon.” I looked at her surprised she even knew my name. I mean I wasn’t a loser, I knew people, I had friends and was surprisingly popular considering the fact that I never had new clothes so I guess it was my personality. “ Umm... Hey Naomi. Wassup?” I finally said, I started wondering how I sounded. “ So I just wanted to know….” She said in a very sexy voice but my phone started ringing. My phone never rings unless it has something to do with Amya. I answered it. “ Hello Daemon?” some lady said. “Yeah this is me” I said I was getting annoyed. “Okay I was calling to tell you about your sister, Amya.” The lady said. She had a calm voice so I didn’t think it was anything serious. “Yeah what’s wrong with her?” I said confused. “Well she has a very high fever and she’s very nauseous, is there anyway that someone can pick her up?” At that moment all I could do was look at Naomi. The one chance that she will ever talk to me slipped out of my hands, but it was my sister. This was something I knew I had to give up to give my sister that perfect brother. The big brother that will always be there for her and never leave her.
“I only had a little”
Glenn (surprised), I wasn’t expecting you to be up. I thought you were going to bed. You know don’t you? I can tell you know. At least you aren’t dad. I didn’t break curfue. I only had a little. Everybody else was doing it. I knew and trusted everybody there. Those can be my arguments. Just in case dad finds out. He will ground me I understand that. (Pause) I could just tell him. I would get in a lot less trouble, like when criminals plead guilty. He will see that it was harmless. Remind him that he did it when he was a kid. He will not hurt me then. I will still get yelled at, just not hit. I know he does not normally hit me but this might set him over. Although he did not hit you when he caught you. I will tell him the names of the people I was with. He knows them and trusts them. He will understand that I could not have been hurt with them around. No damage was done to myself. I will not tell him who brought it. That way everybody who was there will get in the same amount of trouble. I will remind him that all of my grades are fine and will not be affected. Remind him that I have never broken any rules, well except for this. I will tell him I have been the child who helped when it was needed. I was the only one who ever told the truth, even when I was getting in trouble too.
I do not have a problem. I only tried it once and did not like the taste. That will not work will it? He will assume I am lying about trying it once if I say I don’t like the taste. If I plead guilty I will not get in trouble for lying. That would only add to my punishment. Hopefully he will not tell me I can’t see Steve, Josh, or Ryan again. I can’t really make an excuse to hang out with the people who got me to drink. I will still see them at school, but it won’t be the same. It is not like I am drunk. I will be able to get up and go to school in the morning no problem. I won’t have a hangover. I just had a sip.
This needs to end…
(In her room sitting in a corner with low light down knees up.)
I’m scared shitless. …
I want this to end.
No I need this to end.
What did I do to deserve this?
I mean, all I did…was help someone.
Was that so wrong?
They were being bullied,
And I thought it was wrong so…of course I intervened.
(Suddenly bland cold voice with no feelings but hate and blame)
But then It happened.
They turned on me.
…And then my friends.
I could handle the ignorance of the teachers and the sudden downfall in my ‘Popularity’. But of course,
When you leave something unattended or…let things go on without doing anything about it for a long time…
It gets worse.
(Sarcastic snobby tone)
It starts with the small pranks,
Like the old disappearing desk, or…the classical egg throwing and being locked in the bathroom stall with a bucket of water dumped over your head.
(adding in a lost wondering tone. Almost as if shes not speaking )
Then it turns big.
Thumb tacks everywhere you go. Burning trash in you book bag.
And if that doesn’t make someone paranoid enough,
(Questioning answer demanding tone)(Starts pacing)
Then what about when you to home to find everything in your room trashed,
but the doors were all locked. (smirking)
When you can’t even be safe in your own house… its scary isn’t it?
Speaking. It shouldn’t be this hard. It’s not like I can’t. So just go on… speak! But of course, I can’t, my throat closes up and I’m silenced again my by own fears. Write a poem, Mrs. Kemp said, write a poem about what you feel, it could be about anything, don’t hold back, don’t edit, just write. And so we do, we pour out our souls onto this 9 by 7 inch paper and then she tells us to speak. To get up in front of the class and recite the most vulnerable parts of us. So naturally, I go first. ‘Melody, read us your poem.’ And my heart stops, and my blood runs cold, I shake my head as my throat closes up, such a frequent feeling. I open my mouth but no sound comes out, and all Mrs. Kemp does is frown and look disappointed. I’m not surprised, this has been going on for a while. I think people have begun to forget my name, ‘The quiet girl’ they call me. I haven’t always been silent, they have to know that, I’ve spoken to many of them before. They ask my why I don’t talk like they don’t know, like they weren’t the cause of it. I used to speak. But not anymore, once you’ve been shut up so many times, you loose the glamour of it all. Expressing my opinions means nothing if nobody wants to listen. Or maybe I just don’t want to talk to them. Why should I have to share my thoughts? Thoughts are private things. My thoughts, my opinions, are mine and mine alone. Some people’s thoughts are nasty and mean, some people only want to tare you down, but what could you possibly hold against me if I never speak?
-7-year-old girl, Angie on a hospital bed
-7year-old Cary, her friend talking to her
Angie, what did you get for number 7 on that math worksheet?
Are you sure? I got 2 not 1. You have to minus 1 not 2, silly. Mrs. Valley yelled at Kenny today in Religion class. Kenny took Sean’s notebook and threw it on the floor, so Mrs. Valley grabbed him by his shirt, took him outside and started yelling at him. She said that he is always a disruption to her class and that he never listens. She told him that she was going to send a note home to his mom. He was so scared!
Excuse me, nurse, can you get her a glass of water? Thank you.
(Nurse comes back with water. Monologue is spoken to the nurse now)
Ang, are you sleeping? (pause) Good. She needs to sleep. She’ll be really tired if she doesn’t sleep, if she’s going back to school on Monday. I don’t know how she’ll do it if she can barely sit up, let alone walk around for a whole day. I wish I could sleep. I’m so tired, but I have to wait for my mom to pick me up when she’s done work. I know that cancer isn’t easy for anyone, but I just wish her cancer was curable. My mom was talking to her mom and they were talking about her cancer eating. It was eating something.. Oh! It was her brain. The cancer was eating her brain. They said that her brain was gonna turn to mush in a couple of weeks. I hope it’s not to mushy when she goes to college, cause my sister says college is really hard. Angie will have to think really really hard when she goes if her brain is all mushy. (beep beep beep)
(panic) Nurse? What’s that beeping noise? Is Angie okay? What’s going on! Help her! Take the needle things out of her arm! They’re hurting her! Help! Angie! Wake up! Angie! (back to nurse) Help her! She’s not waking up! Get her mom! She’s in the waiting room! (calls Angie’s mom) Michelle, Michelle! Hurry something’s wrong with Angie! She’s not waking up! She has to be okay for school Monday. (pause, long beep) the beeping stopped. She’s okay right? There’s no more beeping. She’s okay… Angie? Why won’t she wake up? Did the cancer go away? Did the cancer make her brain mushy? Is that why she won’t wake up? (Starts to cry) I hate cancer. Tell her cancer to stop making her sleep. She has to go to school to see everybody. Angie, Angie! Get up! We’re gonna go to school. Come on! (Mom walks in) Mommy, Tell Angie’s cancer to stop making her sleep! (pause) Angie I have to leave, mommy says we’re going home. I’ll come back tomorrow to see you okay? I love you.
November 9, 2011
Today is the day. The judge will determine if I get to go back home to my mama. It’s been so long and I’ve tried so hard to be a good person. I’ve been on my best behavior. I brought my grades up, I apologized to all the punks I beat up, and I even cut off the ties with the drug suppliers. It all was hard, but I don’t want to go to another home where those people could care less about me. Where they forget to feed me, tell me I can’t go outside, and make me sleep on the floor. They're all liars, and pretend to give a damn in front of the authorities. I just want my mama to want me. I even promised God that I’d be better and I don’t get into that religion stuff. No more fighting, no more staying out late, and definitely no more selling drugs. I’m not a bad person though, all I’ve done, good or bad has been for my mama. I was tired of seeing her struggle with the rent, and living paycheck to paycheck. Especially when something could be done. I had to do something, right? My daddy ain’t shit; he left at snap of a finger. For my trying to help, they blamed my poor mama saying:
“Ms. Peters, your son is out of hand, and you have no control over him. We feel that it’d be best if he lived with a more organized family.”
But the crazy thing about it is, she didn’t even cry or beg
for me to stay. She just let them take me. I expected some real dramatic Life
time scene where she’d be beating people’s ass’s for me. Instead, she pulled a
poker face, signed some papers, and looked right through me. I felt the chill
that lived in her eyes. She didn’t want me. I tried to help her and she didn’t want me. So why do I want to go
back to her so bad? We don’t even get along and all we do is bicker. She wanted
for me to have a better life though, but I am content with struggling if it
means I can be with her. I’ll put up with the senseless fighting. I’ll find
another way to help her. Hell, I’ll get a job even though I hate working. I’d
rather have bad times with her than good times with someone else. Oh God, I
hope the Judge makes the right decision. I can’t stand living with her, but I
can’t stand living with those other people even more. I want to feel a mother’s
tough love, not the synthesized version they’re trying to spoon feed me.They don't know my mama, and she's not a bad person. I was. But I've changed.
Fire & Desire
He left me stuck, confused on what to say next. He left me hesitated on my word choice fearing if it would reveal my age. The hesitation kept me from ever wanting to find someone. Kept me from ever telling someone the way I felt entirely.
I jumped on him and stared deep into his eyes. He looked back as I stared while I talked; we made eye contact and smiled simultaneously. And then he asked in that deeply seductive voice, “Why you staring at my lips like you want to kiss me or something?” With that he puckered up. As he waited with his eyes intent on my face and desire intent by holding my there, I hesitated. Before he had the chance to repeat the question, I responded.
I crushed my lips to his with a passion that could ignite the entire room. His response gave me the sudden courage that I have been longing for for too long. At the moment all I could comprehend was the way my fingers were entangled in his soft hair and the way his palm caressed my check and lower back.
That’s all I ever wanted to know. I wanted to walk around with the knowledge of this emotion. The emotion of love. To have love given to me share and me that love with someone else. With him. The month continued with cheers and squeals that came from the fire and desire he bought into my life. I knew that as long as I had some type of connection to him I would be okay in life.
While walking one day, I felt myself searching for something special. I wasn’t sure what it was or what form it came in. But as soon as I turned the corner I found it. He was there standing, talking. The way my heart reacted confirmed that I needed to make him mine. That I had to do it, tell him the whole story of where I stood. And then I completely saw him. He was standing and across from him was another girl.
He left me broken, with ongoing scrambles of our broken kiss. He left me hesitated, scrambled on which way to take. He left me scared, scared sick on whether to leave him. For I know that in his passing I will breathe a breath of desire. My heart will pound and my eyes will extend, to the point my blush will ignite to make amends. He will however eventually continue his path to the ones he cares for too. To the ones that I replaced, and will replace me. His multiple desires of fresh bait, his old acquaintances that destined mate. I didn’t fall babe, love fell on me.Jordan Hairston