The Apprentice WRITER

Volume 30 $3 apprentice writer : 1 termination. While he listened to the con- better, the seats looked fake and uniform - Introduction Susquehanna’s creative writing major now en- Editor: Gary Fincke versation between the adults, he scratched at just like the people. rolls 180 undergraduate students who are taught Welcome to the thirtieth issue of The Apprentice the red leather seat of the train. As he looked My grandfather believed that if you primarily by six widely-published writers. If you Writer, which annually features the best writing associate editors: at the scratches he made, he saw that the red looked good on the outside, you felt good are interested in learning more about the creative and illustrations from nearly 4,000 entries we re- Tim Piontek plastic was really just a coating for the blue inside. My father has flipped that view: if writing major and programs related to writing ceive each year from secondary schools through- sponsored by the Writers Institute, see the back Emma Mcclelland worn leather underneath. you feel good inside, it doesn’t matter how out the United States. Every September we send page for a summary or go to susqu.edu/writers Deborah Gravina He noticed, as the got off the train, each you look on the outside. He sings off key, copies printed as a public service by The Daily for details, person seemed to be subtly adjusting them- and dances along with moves from the 80’s. Item in Sunbury, PA to nearly 3,500 schools. A Sea of Tweed Production editor: selves. One would fix his tie, another tuck I see him leave the house almost every night Send material to be considered for next year’s Ap- Our established program in Editing and Pub- in his shirt; a woman corrected her lipstick to walk the dog. He wears pajama pants, old prentice Writer to Gary Fincke, Writers Institute ALISON ENZINNA lishing gives our creative writing majors an op- in her pocket mirror. At the time he did not Merrill’s and that day’s non-wrinkle button Director, 610 University Avenue, Susquehanna portunity to showcase what they have learned by Claire Sapan notice that few people were smiling. He down shirt, his hair flying this way and that. University, Selinsgrove, PA 17870-1164. Please working on one or more of the four magazines Special thanks to Codie Nevil-Sauers did not think about why he and his brother He is smiling. His smile makes the combi- include your name and address on each page. The New York, NY the Susquehanna University Writers Institute made this trip with his father each and every nation of the flannel P.J.’s and leather shoes deadline is March 1, 2013. publishes each year. year to the Princeton vs. Dartmouth game, almost fashionable. He buttoned his tweed jacket - the same filled with alumnae, when his father had not attended Princeton or any college. It did not poetry one he had worn for the past four years on Table of Contents this day. He put on his crisp khaki pants still cross his mind why his father, who grew up Whispering from warm from the iron. He straightened his Jewish and poor in Brooklyn, would dress in 3 Whispering from underwater, 38 On the Veracity of back, trying to look as tall and strong as pos- nearly perfect WASP uniform. underwater, prose I tell you of my drowning Peter Smog-Enhanced Sunsets sible but his twig-like arms and legs disap- Suddenly they came upon a huge grassy I tell you of my LaBerge Stephanie Guo field with the P engraved in the center. Like 3 A Sea of Tweed Claire Sapan 4 Grown Up Hayley Kolding peared in the sport coat, making him look 41 How I Learned Depression his hair, the grass was perfectly in place, with drowning 4 Gently, Intothe Night Irene Hsu 5 the Cyclist Elizabeth Bennett like a child playing dress up. His brother Kaitlyn Henderson not one blade sticking out. The color was 6 Gathering My Bones Zoe Jeka 8 A Sonnet for Iceland Joanne 43 Weeding Garth, whose muscles were clearly visible Peter LaBerge a perfect green, harsh and artificial looking Peter LaBerge 8 London Calling Nora Bryson Koong 44 Once I was Rapunzel through his clothing, stood for a moment grass that one sees only in the movies. His 10 The Woes of an Unconfident 9 Starfish Sonnet Grace Henderson Margo Gruenberg in the mirror, then returned to his standard Stamford, CT father walked in front as he and his brother Writer Leah Evert 9 Candy Necklace Hayley Kolding 48 The Dream Brittany Barnstead position on the couch in front of the TV. 12 Untitled Erin Conroy 9 Tunnels “Josh Wood”, a deep voice bellowed, “your took their regular seats. The rumbling of the Elizabeth Bennett 50 The Nuns of Trastevre Anne I want to be this sandbar— 14 So They Say, We’ve Got Things In 9 Aim Grace Henderson hair.” fans got louder and they cheered and chant- Thompson unremembered— Common Joshua Barber 11 Peach Melba Emily Masters 50 Your Heart A Perfect Globe His father, an advertising copywriter, had ed with the other 40,000 people. 17 Food for Thought Jared Benatar 12 Anatomy of a Snowflake Camille mastered the art of speaking in as few words I often ask my dad if my hair looks bad, or Clara Berkeley Back home, 18 Note to a Deteriorating Self Petersen 51 Mermaids Jessica Blau as possible, just enough to convey his point. if a scrape on my nose is visible. He responds I left the gas stove Charlene Francois 13 The Things I Will Never Tell My 51 Los Glaucos Stephanie Kraynak As instructed, he took the comb out of the the same way each time: “People are too heated, and the sink 21 The Billboard Leo Yu Mother Jessica Blau jar and poked at the straying hairs. His fa- worried about themselves to notice the flaws sipping love from 22 The God Particle Victoria White 13 Katerine Zoe Jeka ther’s hand, as large as the paw of a bear but in others. Don’t worry about it.” I believe 28 Untitled photography the faucet. Gabriella Costa 16 He’s come to thinking around nevertheless gentle, swept the comb away this is true. As I walk down the street, I never 31 Look Out, Jack Alaina Demopoulos the bend anymore Joshua Baber 7 Marialaina Nissenbaum and disappeared into another room. He re- notice someone’s bad hair day or someone’s 32 Admission Ashley Zhou 16 The Losing Game Sarah Mathews I left only ugly cups 19 Meghan Shea turned a few seconds later with hair cream scrape on their nose. Rather, I notice the ex- 35 Love All Hayley Kolding 17 Heretic Angela Sim in the kitchen for you— 22 Kendall Fawcett between the combs of the teeth. As he glided pression on their face: if they are happy, all 36 A Pet Store Christina Menniti 18 Anticipation Julia Xia the ones stained with 33 Kendall Fawcett it through his son’s hair, the fly away strands of their imperfections seem to fade away. 39 Of crabs and Anesthetic 20 First Shot Jonathan Esty saltwater and stars 35 Jennifer Wu fell obediently into place, forming a neat It is odd that my handsome and successful Nanditha Lakshmanan 20 Rainy Season Nicole Achempong from catching minnows 44 Shelby Wilcox side part. From upstairs his mother yelled grandfather would carry on this ritual, not 40 The Dead of Winter Emmie Atwood 20 Open Season Elizabeth Bennett at midnight. 51 Brittany Cho pretending that he had gone to Princeton, 41 The Wastelands of Womanhood 20 Wa k e Haeyeon Tina Cho in a deep, raspy voice that rang through the house, “Garth, I swear to God, I am going to just not making clear that he hadn’t. It seems Lisa Delao 23 Practice Jana Ruthberg Our bed is drowning cover David Yusufov throw that idiot box out the window”. to have taught my father a lesson. What- 44 Mom is making chicken potpie; 22 The Backseat is My Home When in sand and nightclothes, On that note, the three males left the ever you do, you should not worry about Someone must have died It’s Dark Adriana Van Manen but the curtains remain drawn— house for the train heading to New Jersey. At the opinion of others, because it can change Emily Masters 25 Untitled Ella Bishop-Heil you think I’m still in there, of course. 45 Pursuing an Erased Past 27 Gumamela sa Maliit na Paradiso Penn Station, the pungent smell of cologne you into a different person, and perhaps Sage Warner Eric Fernandez was overwhelming - people dressed in a sea not a better one. In trying to be someone Waiting to be claimed, 47 If we Die Tonight 30 Following Pauline Peter LaBerge of tweed were massing on the train platform. he wasn’t, my grandfather became like ev- I feel the ocean floor Erin Niederberger 34 Lungs Nicole Achempong On board, his father was talking to a man in ery other man on the train car. As my father drop into place— 49 The Tiny Lecture Waving 34 Sparse Stephanie Guo a tone he had never heard him use before - it scratched at the fake plastic covering the old Through The Tiny Galaxy 37 Color Emmie Atwood was the same low deep tone, but the usual original leather on the train, he realized that It seems I may have H. Vaughn Reese softness had been replaced with a type of de- in an effort to make the seats look newer and finally done some good.

2 : susquehanna university apprentice writer : 3 oak tree. There, they wove daisy chains, which her room, Janie gingerly smoothed bandages hot chocolate. Janie floated through Stella’s was told that Stella had only gone on a road browned and withered in their hands as they over her scraped knee, the stinging still clear endless tides of words, and it was just like old trip, and that she may or may not be back. She skated home, hand in hand, over the bumps and unforgotten. times again. So, when Stella mentioned that told all this and more to Peter, now her Peter, and cracks in the sidewalks. But once, after The grass in the lot grew wild and green, she would be working near home next year, who would hold her in his arms. He would The Cyclist Janie had lurched forward and fallen face-first, and Janie would bring along a book and some wouldn’t be going to college, Janie decided in smile and frown in all the right places, as she Stella held onto Janie’s hand ever more tightly. friends to read under the shade of the large oak her mind that she would go to the college clos- clung to his warmth and the scent of his mint Gently, Into the In Janie’s room, Stella gingerly smoothed ban- tree. She found herself staring off at the old el- est to home; she told Stella all this and more shampoo. dages over Janie’s skinned knees, and told her ementary school as she batted away a few lin- as Stella smiled, nodding along and nodding Back at home for the holidays, Janie walked Elizabeth Bennett that everything would be okay—and Janie be- gering bees and wove a daisy chain, her book off. They ended the night as the clock struck across the street to wish Stella’s mom a merry Milton, MA Night lieved her, because Stella had told her so. The untouched. She would excuse herself to head twelve and promised to talk again soon some- Christmas and was told that Stella had been scabs melted away into scars, as spring melted home, alone, along the path of cracked and where, some time. home for weeks, didn’t she see her around? She Irene Hsu into summer all over again. unleveled sidewalks, book and daisy chain in When summer came to a close, Janie wasn’t here now, though; too bad. But it was Maybe you’ve forgotten San Jose, CA As soon as the sun warmed their fingertips hand. dragged crates and boxes containing some Tuesday, so Janie walked to Mr. Pilkinson’s ice how you used to look once more, they would pedal furiously down By the next year, Janie would spin aimless clothes, but mostly books, up flights of stairs in cream store, where she spotted Stella outside blazing down the back roads the next block, where Mr. Pilkinson had dol- cursive on her history notebook in front of her dormitory. She imagined that somewhere, with that Mary Fergunstein, with lipstick just at Wachipauk Pond. lar ice cream Tuesday for kids. Janie would ask the window and periodically see Stella wav- Stella was throwing together eggs and toast, or as thick and red as it had been years before. Did you know On cool summer nights, Janie and Stella for vanilla, and Stella get chocolate, dripping ing goodbye to someone who drove away too perhaps not making breakfast at all––perhaps When Mary caught a taxi and was gone, Janie that when I called you from behind would make hand shadows on Janie’s front with sprinkles and hot fudge. Outside the fast for Janie’s taste. One time, catching her she was sliding onto the duct-taped seat of her raced to Stella as her heart had been racing. all you could hear the swift ride porch, where the lamp hung crooked from the store, they sat on the wooden bench to share eye, Stella waved her down, and they spent car. Perhaps, Janie liked to think, Stella was Outside on the bench, Janie would tell Stella of metal over earth and a quivering heart? gable and cast a yellow flicker on the wooden their dribbling ice cream, which disappeared their night in Janie’s kitchen, sharing cups of forming her own perhapses and somewheres all about how Peter took her ice skating and steps. Stella would twist her hands into a bird, as quickly as the leaves’ green became speckled and maybes about Janie. Or perhaps not, Janie kissed her under the gazebo; all the while, she Remember and at her beckoning, Janie would fold her with red, yellow, and orange. would conclude and disappear into the lecture saw that Stella tried to smile at all the right how you used to hold our dog! fingers into a dog. Together, they’d weave a With the first snowflake came Stella’s first hall for class. times, and she frowned when Stella did not, --held her to your chest and then set her story, but by the time it was over, the bird flew love, the boy who had once thrown clumps In a coffee shop twenty minutes from cam- but when the birds came and went again, Stella loose to chase the tires. You ripped down alone while Janie watched, hands in her lap, of leaves at Stella but now tossed her compli- Grown Up pus, Janie found Stella smiling, greeting, and cried and said yes, she would be Janie’s maid the trail while she raced open-mouthed at the entranced. ments and sweet nothings. Stella would fall in taking orders daily, and Janie would lug her of honor. spokes. love with his hair and his eyes and the way he books to the cafe every day––but later, only on Stella arrived just in time for Janie to walk Fall was when Stella found pink worms Hayley Kolding squirming along the sidewalk cracks. She and said her name, and Janie listened to her over Thursdays when Stella told Janie about reduc- down the aisle, her hair swaying rhythmically Lifting the hips for a flat-backed ride, Janie would squat on Mrs. Williams’ unruly the phone while the snow grew thick on the New York, NY ing her hours. But once––on a Friday––Janie and the flowers in her bouquet fluttering. Janie you lived for the turn of tires over old-growth, lawn, sticks in hand, prodding at the fleshy driveway. Even when a storm cut off the line, passed by the cafe where Stella was smiling, said, I do, and she looked into Peter’s teary the ache in a rush of air pulled to the lungs. Stella arrived shivering in Janie’s room, where greeting, and taking orders. On seeing Janie, blue eyes and kissed him. When it came time worms. The wind brushed their bare, scraped We were walking down the middle of the road she told Janie everything else and more as Janie Stella smiled––a little forced, Janie thought–– to cut the cake, Janie offered the second piece Rounding that tree, too close, I think, knees, and Mrs. Williams stumbled over their —you, I; our arms white like frog bellies— nodded along and nodded off. She told Janie but then Stella explained that she had taken on to Stella. And as Stella whirled about for ev- you stuck your arm out bare, scraped feet. She’d invite them in for slic- walking in defiance of the implicit yellow line. about how he kissed her under the gazebo an extra shift, that she had started today, and ery dance, Janie whirled about alongside her straight out, letting it drag es of pie, and Janie would scramble after Stella, You, at ten, complained where that Mary Furgenstein had broken her that maybe Janie should order a cheesecake like a moon to its planet, to make sure there against the wind; and the dog, the stinging of her legs forgotten. about the weight of your breasts leg. Janie smiled and frowned in all the right next time she dropped by on five hour-stretch- was always someone for Stella. At sunset, Janie the dog snapping at the spokes… On mornings when the rooftops were straining in your plain cotton training bra. places, like later, when Stella told her that she es? climbed into the carriage. She tossed her bou- draped in snow, they would make angel after I rolled my eyes at you saw him kiss that Mary Furgenstein at the end On Stella’s days off, Janie would trudge to quet and followed its arc to Stella, who leaped Now, at home, I fill the bathtub, angel on Janie’s driveway. When their clothes (so gleefully weary) of Fuller Street. All the while, Janie wondered the library, only to find her heart stolen by up to snatch it, loose petals of peonies tumbling let the water run over my feet. and hair were damp and cold, they would but I waited ’til your back was turned which boy in her class she would be in love Shakespeare, and then Spenser, and then Mar- down over her. Janie blew kisses at everyone as I hear you come home, linger in the car. clamber up the stairs with hot chocolate, to sit because I remember years of waiting with, and she was still wondering when middle lowe, and then Peter, the man with brown hair they vanished into the horizon, but mostly, she by Janie’s window, which overlooked the town. to bloom. There was the park, a white landscape now, and school had let out, and the sun had come out. and blue eyes at the reading room in the li- blew them at Stella, who she knew would catch I slip between cold bed sheets and listen, One afternoon, Stella called Janie to invite brary, who finally had approached her on some each and every one, even with that Italian bar- listen now, for the hollow hush of bicycle on the other side, there was the old cemetery, Yards later you halted, her to that Mary Furgenstein’s pool party, but Wednesday. They lounged in the study rooms, tender’s arm thrown over her shoulder. bones. beautiful and eerie with its marble stones jut- stared down at the split-skin tar. she left a few minutes later with a towel and books in hand, and shared scones in the court- Even after the honeymoon, Peter whisked ting from the ground. There was the house of Lying there limp was a slack-furred chipmunk, bathing suit in hand as Janie watched her go. yard. And the next day, Janie told Stella all her away, to Paris, to London, to Berlin, and that boy who always threw clumps of leaves at eyes frozen The next day, Stella asked her to come along about Peter, and how she loved the way he ran she would bring along Sartre, Austen, and wove his fingers into Janie’s and told her that Stella, and the lake at the edge of town that like glass beads or tears. to the barbecue, but Janie hesitated. The next his hand through his hair, the way his blue eyes Hesse to entertain her in the French, English, everything would be okay—and Janie would Janie and Stella had flocked to a few days ago. Time shuddered; I shuddered; The snow on the sidewalk melted away, week, Janie agreed to go to Stephanie Martin’s lit up when he talked about Faulkner, the way German bookstores; even then, she would believe, because Peter had told her so. He took birthday party with Stella, only to find another he said her name when he introduced her to wonder about how many postcards and how her home, a new home, with a white picket and Janie would perch by her window with a then you, composed, were kneeling, reason not to go; and as Janie waved goodbye, his friends; Stella nodded enthusiastically, yes, many letters were piling up in her mailbox, but fence bordering the garden of wildflowers. book in her lap, then spring downstairs when raising his ear up to your lips. the weeks pushed by her, summer was over, Peter sounded like a Prince Charming, and yes, mostly whether any were from Stella. When he He swept her up the stairs, where they spent she saw Stella skipping into the open with her Ten years old, and autumn had begun. By winter, when Janie it would be okay if Janie had lunch with him brought her along to the Ponte Vecchio, she evenings sharing books. When his work called rollerblades in tow. They skated to the empty with scraped knees, a training bra— spotted Stella spinning and gliding at the lake on Fridays from now on. watched the gondolas glide through the water. him away during the day, Janie felt the empty lot by the elementary school, where the grass you crooned to the dead chipmunk, with some boys, some girls, Janie found herself Her third year in college, Janie found Stella He found her in a nearby cafe, absorbed in Pur- space in her days fill up slowly by her daugh- grew long and the flowers grew wild, and they cradled him in your palms. slipping on the ice, her head spinning. Stella gone from the coffee shop; her boss said she gatorio, and when she looked up and saw him, ter, who learned to speak, learned to walk, and battled their way through the furious army I stood motionless as you whispered, would glide in to help, then glide away when had gone travelling, wasn’t working here any- she told him that she was ready to go home, learned to abuse her mother’s doting as only of bees to reach a shady spot under the large “I think that this one likes me”. Janie was back on her feet and back home. In more. Janie called Stella’s mother in worry but that she was a little worried about Stella. He a daughter would. One day, as Janie called to

4 : susquehanna university apprentice writer : 5 her daughter to hurry, to put on her ballet flats She watched the doctors cover Stella in white i was not ready to fly away again, to sleep and dream the night over. bike, one on the other. The shadows became so they could buy a new knapsack for kinder- and wheel her body away. And when the room but time pulls you at the edges until your on nights when we longed for hu- weak after some time and begin to slip out garten, Janie heard her own name being called was empty, and there was no one else to see or skin travels in the planned direction. Time man warmth, my two closest friends and I of my pores. On the way back, I could spot from outside her house. go to, Janie pulled herself into her car where she does not know of body parts left behind, in would gather our mattresses in the center of them, collapsed into holes in the cobble- Janie turned to see Stella standing outside cried, for herself, for Stella, and for the empti- Gathering My many places. My veins are wrapped about our room and whisper into the walls like lit- stones, lying limp and asleep. the doorway. All at once, years of wondering ness that bloated her entirely. Around her, the rows of airport chairs and moments of part- tle girls trying to resist sleep. If our laughter in the springtime, I left the city, and worrying were forgotten. They sat to- colors were draining, and the parking lot was ing, my hipbones tied in bows around mem- slipped through the windows or doorframe, and now, a year of my history is wrapped gether in the living room, sorting the letters emptying, but she curled up and wished that Bones ories of ruins and palaces. They are always a teacher’s footsteps would click down the about ruins and faces. My mother’s hair is and pictures that Stella had forgotten to send the sky would be blue again, and that the park- there upon my return, presents as good as a hallway and become silent just outside our soft and short and alive, and I can run my to Janie. This, Stella said, was after I climbed ing lot would be full with people carrying their Zoe Jeka child’s. Time wraps them neatly when I go. I door. We were master illusionists, quiet and fingers through it each day without time the Eiffel Tower; here, here is a picture of flowers and taking their loved ones home. Severna Park, MD will never be whole, but I am not broken. dreaming until the footsteps faded, satisfied. pulling my skin across the ocean. But pieces Buckingham Palace, and where the Berlin Wall Janie refused to attend the funeral, but a When I returned to Rome, my Then we pressed our quilts over our mouths of my body have torn off and traveled to used to stand; I wrote this letter right before few weeks later, she, Peter, and her daughter gifts were waiting. I could reclaim my hip- to contain our laughter, louder than be- dance in ancient palaces and Roman streets. I met up with that Italian bartender at the followed the migrating birds south to the old i glimpsed the underside of a cob- bones, but my veins remained far to the fore. After some time, our voices faded into My legs perform pirouettes to the melody of Michelangelo Square. Janie would smile, and town, where old Mrs. Williams, now gone, blestone near the Coliseum once. It pointed West. We were emperors again, and lived steady, sleeping breaths. memories; my ribs catch the echoes of three nod along, travelling the world through Stel- once invited her in for a slice of pie, and where like a knife and found its way underneath my off the ruins, drawing secrets from the stone Quiet nights reminded me of my voices whispering late at night. I will these la’s words. When it grew dark, Stella pitched Stella once met Janie outside Mr. Pilkinson’s ice skin. When I search my arms and legs, there into our fingertips and dissecting the whis- blood across the ocean. I found city ledges pieces to return, but I remain torn between a tent in Janie’s living room, and they played cream shop on Tuesdays. They drove by Janie’s are only memories wedged in my bones. pers of a thousand ancient voices. By seven where silence reached out to my mother two oceans. shadow puppets with Janie’s little daughter, old house, where the lamp had once hung between my ribs, I find the quiet on a Friday night, we held freedom by the and father and brother; placed their faces over time, I have learned to sum- who squealed as Stella’s bird flew into Janie’s crooked, but had now been fixed by the new nights when we broke the law. In the city, waist and danced until Monday. There was beneath my eyelids. I missed them perfectly mon each piece of my body, if only for fleet- dog. And as the squirming girl fell into rhyth- family. This is where Stella and I made shadows there were only moments of still before the a thrill in the number of hours we owned when the air was cold enough to wring the ing instants. On quiet nights, I reach out mic, blissful breathing, Stella promised to send with our hands, Janie said, but her daughter traffic lights across the street shone green, and wielded to our perfection like gold at shadows burrowed in my bones and leave my to the two best friends I left behind, who Janie more postcards, and to make a trip to the had forgotten the pitched tent, had forgotten and then the rubber of tires was screaming the end of the week. The city breathed our body raw. I almost reached close enough to carry my bones back and sew them onto my old town with Janie in five years. Stella and the birds and the dogs. Don’t you re- closer. If headlights crept over the edges of bodies through alleys and piazzas, crammed sew each strand of hair back into my moth- body. Silence unwinds their arms and faces Morning came, Stella went, and the months member? Janie pleaded with her, grasping her our shirts, we knew to squeeze our bones them into rooms electric with music and er’s scalp. from my spine; places them beneath my grew into years as the letters from Stella once shoulders––but her daughter shook her hands through the fence and run faster than our heat. We swayed at nine o’clock, tangoed Sometimes, I did not remember eyelids. For moments, I see them, as if dis- again grew sparser. Her daughter grew out of off and bolted to the car. As Janie crumpled to legs could take us into the black. The guards with ten, discovered eleven in the beats of they were far away. When I ached to press tances and borders and time zones could be ballet flats, and grew fond of kitten heels. She her knees, she heard Peter at the car, ordering leave with the daylight and the tourists; only rock concerts and silhouettes of crowds. We into my mother’s shirts or wrap in my fa- lifted, tucked away into dark corners. I wrap even caked on lipstick, which was the only their daughter to apologize, and then Peter shadows patrol the ruins after the ticket of- knew the night was growing tired when the ther’s arms, my two closest friends would my arms about my knees and rock gently to time Janie had ever been angry with her. Once explaining to the new family that they weren’t fice is locked. Once we ran far into the dark, serenade of city sounds turned sharp, with dive into my bones and empty me of shad- the rhythm of our laughter; let it sing me to in a while, Janie would pin up a new postcard trespassing, that this was Janie’s old home and night welcomed our skin, and we were invis- only a few voices and car motors echoing be- ows. At nighttime, we wheeled two bikes out sleep. Then I am raw and I can miss them from Stella, who made it her desire to travel they were just visiting. ible to the city’s eyes. The ruins were ours tween the stone buildings. Then it was time of school and rode in silence – two on one perfectly. the world from sea to sea. Janie would add bits At nightfall, they pulled away from Janie’s to explore, unknown to most. We walked and pieces to her packing list for the upcoming old driveway, where Janie and Stella had once through empty palaces and arches, up barely trip to her old town, and Peter drove her from made snow angels many winters ago. They crumbling stairs. If you touched the walls, store to store to find the perfect hot chocolate eased past the bench in front of Mr. Pilkinson’s your fingertips scraped away dark secrets mix, or the perfect rollerblades. But most days, old shop, the elementary school, the cemetery, tangled in age. At the top, we were Roman Janie found comfort in the fireplace and her eerie but no longer beautiful, with Stella’s emperors looking out at churches and piaz- books, and the comfort of Peter and his home- stone jutting out somewhere among the others. zas, reveling in the possibility of a city all our made scones, especially when their daughter Before heading for the highway, Peter own. The sounds of car tires and sirens were was away at the theaters, or the mall, or the ice stopped the car at a nearby gas station, now only an echo at such heights, becoming faint skating rink. next to the old lot, where the grass grew long without alleys to capture their resonance. Then one autumn evening, Janie rushed to and the weeds grew wild, only now, they We dove into the silence, and could almost the ringing phone, and when she finally hung twisted around a “For Lease” sign and a chain hear ancient church bells ringing, although up after thanking Stella’s mom for calling, the link fence. A few wildflowers thrust their buds they do not speak at night. tears rushed to her eyes. Peter scooped her up through the tangle, and she watched the with- autumn wrapped my body in ruins and tucked her into bed, as miles away, para- ering petals tremble as the wind caught hold of and palaces. Clocks seem to tick faster in medics would scoop Stella from the metal their stalks. In the car, she could hear the music the city, and the subway that slips through wreckage on some mountain road and tuck bleeding from her daughter’s headphones and dark tunnels beneath the ground carried me her into the back of an ambulance. The next the humming of the engine. And later, as the through months of thrill until I reached the morning, Janie combed through her garden for town dwindled into a cluster of lights behind platform marked winter. I flew home to my the last of this year’s daises, and collected what her, she traced the constellations in the sky family then, and learned of a darkness grow- she could find into a jar to place by Stella’s hos- with her finger, and outside, the moon traced ing inside my mother’s left breast. They ac- pital bed. The daisies browned and withered, the skyline with silver. quainted me softly, while tucked away in the and were promptly replaced with fresh ones, corner of a restaurant. Ten strangers still saw their stems still woven with grass blades. Then my tears. I watched her for weeks, fearing her one evening, Janie heard the flat tone from the cells would separate and wander away. My monitor, and the thudding of her own heart. hands could not catch so many molecules. Marialaina Nissenbaum Fords, NJ 6 : susquehanna university apprentice writer : 7 came in flavors other than classical, and who Rolling Stones, and Led Zeppelin intermin- When I first saw you, five legs like sides of a your tiny mouth, filled with the terror was making up for lost time. Some children’s gling with pieces by Alison Krauss and Union pentagram, I screamed: pitch treble-clef. music was involved, to be sure (a little bit of Station, Stan Rogers, or Big Bad Voodoo Dad- Floating on the surface of the shade-cooled of tiny starfish teeth. Trout Fishing in America and a lot of Disney) dy. The Blues Brothers made a big impact, once Starfish Sonnet water, Half terrified, half mystified- I saw you later London Calling but mostly the soundtrack had a little bit of I was old enough to withstand a few f-bombs, I nearly inhaled half the ocean, on the wallpaper in my room everything: Southern rock, 80s pop, grunge, and I’ve still never seen The Commitments, and on the edge of my towel or: How I Learned to bluegrass, punk, Canadian folk, and even some but the soundtrack is on my mp3 player, and Grace Henderson the rough skin of your back making Mozart thrown in for fun. I can’t go more than two days without hearing my own crawl with the tiny legs of a thousand as if plucked from the ocean of Anguilla Stop Worrying and Love As kids, my brother and I listened to the “Mustang Sally” or “Take Me to the River.” Allendale, NJ jellyfish, and left to light my nightmares with stars. “Tainted Love” and “Come on Eileen” CD so When I reflected on my musical past on that hoping the water would protect me from The Clash often that we destroyed the case and wore the trip to Philadelphia, however, I realized that it liner notes to shreds. The album was a road trip wasn’t just my soundtrack that was diverse and You told me it was for decoration like a hundred teeth loose in my mouth. Nora Bryson staple, so I knew the words to every song. “She a bit eccentric; it was my education as well. My Candy Necklace not for eating Shaking, clattering but when the string snapped, I tried like a maraca or a death rattle. Longhorne, PA Blinded Me With Science” was a particular fa- parents had simply applied the technique they vorite; in my innocence I believed that the lyr- had used to teach me “the important stuff ” Hayley Kolding to catch all the beads on my tongue. I spat fast, but still I tasted ics suggested some sort of chemical accident. to the musical instruction they gave me. For I wasn’t expecting the soft pinks and purples blood and empty spaces Canton, CT to be so hard (the taste of melted candy It was six o’clock on a Friday night, and we The computer-generated strains of “Relax” and them, education wasn’t about making me lis- -wasn’t expecting them to rattle and gums giving up too soon). were hurtling down I-95 on our way from the “Venus,” so unlike the standard rock we knew, ten to language tapes in the womb or watch- ’burbs to Philadelphia. I was in charge of the fascinated us. ing Baby Einsteins the second I could sit up so radio because Dad was driving, Mom didn’t Even though he discovered rock in college, that I could get into the most prestigious day I remember our mother best on days like this in drifts of light and shadow. care, and my brother Thomas couldn’t reach the work of Bach and other composers never care and be on the fast track to Harvard by the one. With two hands cracked, she gripped our the controls. I’d been searching for that one, really lost its influence on my father. Every so time I was on solid foods, just as my musical Days when it was too cold to snow, chins and kissed elusive song that everyone would like, or at often he would dig out some Mussorgsky, and education didn’t consist of regimented piano you and I moved past parked cars, the corner of our mouths. least wouldn’t disown me for choosing, but on most Halloweens he could be counted on lessons and being forced to sight-read concer- mailboxes, windows edged in ice. the presets yielded nothing, so I hit the scan to shake the foundation of the house with Toc- tos. In a much more informal process, my par- We bent our fingers stiff Together we waited for the train button. cata and Fugue in D Minor, tossing in a bit of ents offered up the wealth of their knowledge, Tunnels stinging while winter paled the streets. to gust through the tunnel, grind to a stop. The first stop was boring: some Nickelback the fanfare from Also Sprach Zarathustra for both practical and academic, so that I would Bags slung over shoulders, When the doors slid open we shuffled song I’d heard a million times. Next up was Jay- effect. My first real introduction to the classical have the best educational foundation possible. we felt concrete rattle with the trains below. through the bodies, rearranged. Z, which my brother approved of, but which genre, however, came in the form of another I am grateful for their wisdom, because I am An old man with eyelids was ultimately ruled unacceptable. Dad doesn’t compilation CD that he bought for Thomas convinced that without it, I would not have Elizabeth Bennett At the corner where Beacon crosses Spruce, like thick thumbprints was closest. like “that rap music.” The evangelist yelling and me, Baby Dance. If I’m going to be truth- the chops to write this essay. Milton, MA she waited, wool collar tucked tight across the I could feel his breath on my neck. about acceptin’ Jesus as yer Lord an’ Savior was ful, I really only remember a few of the tracks Or, at the very least, I certainly wouldn’t be chin, politely ignored until he went away; I tried for by name (most notably Sabre Dance by Aram listening to The Clash while I did. face shining with Vaseline spread thick She cleared a window with the heel of her hand “Come on Eileen,” but because Mom hates that Khachaturian, which remains one of my favor- beneath her nose. Headlights, but I all I could see were the racing shades of song more than anything in the world, I was ite pieces to this day), but I loved the CD, and softened with smog, caught her face shadow. overridden. was perfectly content to spin around to “Tea” I was about to give up when I heard strains from The Nutcracker for hours, or at least until A Sonnet for Iceland My father wants me to join the military. and tells me to aim. of Soft Cell’s “Tainted Love” and stabbed fran- I got dizzy and fell over. He wants me to go to West point I lift the bow high, tically at the scan button to capture the station. But the true soundtrack to my childhood Joanne Koong and become a sniper. pull the thin arrow back Mom laughed as my brother and I yodeled our rests in the strains of the third studio album of Irvine, CA So every year at Christmas time, he so the foam feathers on the end way—slightly off-pitch— through the song. British punk rockers The Clash. London Call- takes the bow and arrow brush my cheekbones, “Where did you learn the words to that?” ing was my first exposure to rock music, and outside to the front yard and aim. she asked when the song was over — and that rather than start me off slow with a little Bill Because the Icelandic language was sexy attaches fishing line on the end Release. took a little while because it was the extended Haley and the Comets, or maybe some Elvis, in its entirety, the men we sought and tells me to aim. Perfection nearly every time. dance mix. “That came out way before you my parents dumped me right in the middle needed to understand enough to be I try to tell him that It wraps around the branches were born.” of one of the most stylistically diverse, issue- idyllic and de-industrial, wrought Aim I don’t want to be a soldier. and we pull the sparkling lights to the top, I rolled my eyes and reminded her gently of packed punk rock albums of all time before I I want to be a poet walking them around and around the New Wave compilation album we had lis- could even speak. One of my parents’ favorite by books and chess and Nordic Germanic or an artist so they twist tened to growing up, on which “Tainted Love” albums, London Calling was a constant pres- I love you and glacial icebergs too frigid Grace Henderson or a mermaid. like candy canes. was the second to last track. ence in the house and the car, blasting while to not say what you mean – organic oceanic Allendale, NJ He ties the Christmas lights My father reminds me “Come on, Mom. It was a big part of my my father cooked dinner or my mother drove oxygen for fish to breathe unmuted to the end of the fishing line that the West Point Application and tells me to aim. life.” me to dance class. It took some time before I will be due soon. He swears it’s not for training. That incident really got me thinking— not could understand what was really going on in unhomogenized mother earth without He tells me I need to aim high, He swears it’s just the easiest way only about the memories I associated with the Joe Strummer’s lyrics, but I knew the words a twist of the tongue – all you need to say and shoot to kill. to get the lights CD, but also about the impact of music on my to “Clampdown” and “Brand New Cadillac” is in the language – impossible to doubt I toss the bow to the ground all the way up the tree. and grab hold of his hands. childhood. before I knew my times tables, an accomplish- how you feel if darkness never betrays Every year he brings out I tell him his aim is off The soundtrack of my life has always been a ment which I’m sure both pleased and fright- the thick black hunting bow and spin him around to face my future little unorthodox, hardly surprising when one ened my parents. the midnight sky seduced by northern lights and the arrow with quarters bright and twinkling has a punk rock DJ for a mother and a father Through my childhood and adolescence, above us like Icelandic fireflies. who had only discovered in college that music taped to the end. as it winds up the tree and into the sky. it was not uncommon to hear The Who, The He puts it in my hands 8 : susquehanna university apprentice writer : 9 =I... Truthfully, I don’t think I’m going to I stand. I wait. I’m unassertive. I finally get my teacher. down earlier in the week. pectations. Trying to get that last chunk done make it. I don’t have any grand ideas. And I to the front of the line. That is, except for the one in the basement in the sliver of time you have left. Why would I don’t remember the exact date it needs to be 4. No, No, No. 6. Elements of my own Blue Mountain High School. expect anything else? The Woes of submitted by. Once I know that, I can prob- This doesn’t “feel” right. I think I’ve been 2 weeks before submission date And, my friends, that is why it smelled =Really, why would you? ably write better. thinking again. I try to write serious things, but when I strange in my English classroom today. -Perhaps I thought you were going to be re- -Because you’re a procrastinator. Hey, but technically feelings come from the make my attempt I realize I can’t take myself sponsible for once. an Unconfident =Yeah. brain, right? So really, feeling IS thinking! seriously enough. Then I give up. If not that, 8. A Quick Interlude =I’m responsible. -So when were you planning on starting There I go, thinking again. I decide that everything I write is boring. And Originally, that last story was a lot longer. -You just have terrible time management. Writer work on your demonstration speech due Tues- Shall we have another go? give up. But - surprise, surprise - I felt it was boring. So, =What can I say? I work best under pres- day? Monday? To write something in full, I need three ele- I cut off the entire exposition. Oh, the woes of sure. Leah Evert =I tried to start. But the software I was using 5. The Grade ments: being an unconfident writer. -I’d hate to see the things you’ve done with- Orwigsburg, PA was stupid. 3 weeks before submission date 1) Encouragement from my peers. Without out pressure, then... -And you couldn’t do anything else? I got a 67% on my demonstration speech. this, I might as well just quit writing altogether. 9. Morals =Hey! 1. Talking to Myself =Ugh. I know. My worst grade in a long time and it’s in my fa- 2) A certain drive behind my story. I need 1 week before submission date -Uh-huh? 4 weeks before submission date -Good luck with that. vorite class, English. As if that wasn’t trouble- purpose or pressure. In case you were wondering, I’m not writ- =You know, you could try to be a little nicer -Do you really want this? =Shut up. I hate myself enough already be- some enough. Then my mother finds out. Meh, 3) A due date. Due date, due date, due date. ing this with a moral in mind. Morals are over- sometimes. =Yes. I want it more than anything. cause of it. a bit worse of a situation. But then. If I don’t have one, it’ll never get done. rated. I write to entertain, not to teach. If I -I’m not mean. I’m cynical. -Anything? But then, Mother decides to e-mail my Eng- These conditions usually never occur all at want to teach something to someone, I’ll state =Oh, my mistake then. =Alright, many things. 2. Disclaimer lish teacher. once. That’s why I haven’t written a full story it directly and follow up with a long-winded -It’s difficult for the reader to pick up on sar- -That’s what I thought. Maybe I’m just approaching this at the And a world of wrath and torture are sure in years. (Or, at least, that’s what I’d like to be- rant. No, if someone actually reads my work, casm through text, Leah. =Sigh. I can do this. wrong angle. to ensue. lieve.) I’m not going to force them to think about the -Don’t be so sure. Which angle is the right one? I have no clue. I don’t know where my mother conceived of underlying message. I feel like that’s asking too 11. La Fin =Shh. Maybe I should start writing what I FEEL, the idea, but she seems to believe that all this is 7. That Explains It much of them. Alright, I need to finish strong... -You know, though, in reality it seems as if instead of what I THINK I want to write. the teacher’s fault. The Clandestine Wheel Corps snuck into I also hate searching for morals of literature Hey, how about I go with a choose your own you’ve actually given up on this whole “Ap- WARNING: The following writings will “A 67 seems more like a ‘didn’t even do it’ the wheel factory in the deep of the night and in English class. I’m sure the author would adventure type of thing? Are you excited? Yes? prentice Writer” thing. most likely be full of emotion and include too grade.” began to destroy everything they saw. Unfor- prefer us to read the story he worked tedious Good! =I won’t deny that. much soul-searching. “No... That would be a zero, Mom...” tunately for them, an alarm was raised and the hours upon and focus on its excellence than to [Insert whatever ending satisfies you.] -Why not? 3. Attempt 1 For now, I’ll just have to plead ignorance to local authorities arrived. The Corps resisted ar- pick it apart and attempt to assume what he Yeah, that’ll work. And just for an extra rest and a gun battle immediately erupted. was saying through it. Isn’t it a little presump- flare... In the end, the police gunned down a ma- tuous of us to do that? [Insert beautious orchestral fanfare mark- figure him out, but the fact is, when he shows up away in fear, but never giving enough to make jority of the Corps and arrested the few who Wait. But wouldn’t this make this have a ing the end of the story. Something along on your doorstep at two in the morning, you are you seek them out yourself. You dream like as confused as everyone else. nothing else. You dream of kisses by railroad surrendered, with only a few casualties of their moral, then? The moral, “morals are over- the lines of ‘bidididididi BUM BUUUMM tracks, tips of fingers gripping yours through a own. rated?” So I’ve managed to totally contradict BAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH- Railroad chain link fence, and more than anything, you Nobody must know of The Clandestine myself, then? Neato. HH!’] He speaks as if he’s ashamed, ashamed of the dream of fawns, of words that stumble and eyes Wheel Corps. Well, all great stories must end. My story words that come out of his mouth, he speaks that are opaque, dull with confusion, bright The chief of police ordered that all dead 10. Talking to Myself Again must end, as well. Oh. I just insulted myself. Rebecca Gomezrueda as if he’s intoxicated, words tripping over them- from emotion. bodies of the Corps be incinerated. Ironically, The night before submission date Gonna need a skin graft for that burn. Aaaaand almost every incinerator on hand had broken -Well, well, well. You’ve lived up to your ex- now my ending’s weak... Shoot. Eagleville, PA selves, stumbling, falling, but truthful, always honest. You want to tell him you live for kisses by the railroad tracks, dirt underneath your feet You never stop to wonder once if you are wast- because he did. She learned to love peaches. jelly. She pictures her mother saying, Please scratchy and littered with pebbles. You want ing your time, if you are chasing after a dream She learned to love them and their find yourself a husband, and then blowing her nose The way he walks is like a baby taking his first to tell him you live for the moments when you that will always be just that, a dream, you never yellow orange glow, which would please dramatically. She laughs and slices slivers of peaches steps on ice. He walks like he’s cautious, as if he push his hair out of his face, when you can see think about what you have left if the fawn will Peach Melba doesn’t know exactly where to put his feet, as if his eyes, when the film of distraught confusion never touch its nose to your outstretched hand. her in the morning over waffles. She would tell him,Please , to top her cake. Her kitchen smells of peaches

he’s afraid he will fall at any moment. The way leaves and they are clear, because they are beau- When you are together the paint from your why don’t you ever make me breakfast? But now her nose Emily Masters never smells peaches in the morning anymore, there and she places the half-moon slivers here and there you look at him is like you’re starved, starved of tiful, because he is beautiful. You want to tell canvasses mixes together, and makes a paint- Allendale, NJ in her empty house, empty of his clothes, of his red on the raspberry icing, little boats on turbulent seas. She things no person can give you, you look at him as him “I’m yours! In so many ways, in any way you ing both of you can understand, a painting of running shoes, of his laugh, his keys. He left the peaches knows if you are afraid that if he turns sideways he will want, I’m yours!” but you approach him as if he holding hands with your arms crossed, looking though, and she has been making cakes, one part that it will be perfect and it will be the kind of cake that disappear. The way you look at him is as if he is a is a fawn, frightened, shaking, awkward yet so into each other’s eyes from opposite sides of a part She thinks that maybe she read of her will never want to eat, but she tells herself, million times more perfect then he is, like he is a magnificent at the same time. chain link fence, and kissing amidst the sound sugar, three parts flour, five parts Please it somewhere, that peaches just get rid of these peaches and this jam that is eerily red. pristine white canvas instead of a canvas that has of a roaring train. “I’m yours,” you say. “I know.” are good for women living alone. Please, peaches. She doesn’t want to say, Please come back. She wants to cook with peaches been littered with splotches of paint, thrown on He says. Hold hands, walk strong, and put all she tells herself, as if that’s true. They’re She stands there in her kitchen and turns to the red win- and eat and eat. She doesn’t want to know haphazardly until no white remains. If he were a When you walk, you are a water strider, never your weight down, delving beyond the topmost only good when you serve them in little parts dow frame. if it was wrong to have ended it because she feels a red putting all your weight down, skirting just on layer. Walk straight; walk as if you know where on top of raspberry jelly and ice cream, she knows. She knows that it would please her to throw the cakes over painting he would not be a painting of any mor- excitement about never having to see him there tal object, instead his painting would be an ab- the top of something deeper. You speak as if you are walking even if you have no idea at all. a bridge As she thinks about it, she wrinkles her nose. or off a rooftop. Her lips part as she smiles and hums, cut- there’s a popping in your ears, keeping you from Speak clearly, speak surely, speak kind words, stract representation of feelings, something that He loved Peach Melba, the raspberry sauce, red in her doorway again, there in her bedroom, there ting peaches. almost no one can find the deeper meaning to. hearing, understanding exactly what you are speak words that bite, as long as he is here, as on top of vanilla. She loved Peach Melba in part in her kitchen eating peaches cut up in square parts. You are cocky, and you want to believe you can saying. People treat you as if you are a wild cat, long you are together, as long as he is near, then Somewhere, she thinks, she had seen his disgusting red never pushing hard enough to get you to run you are one. 10 : susquehanna university apprentice writer : 11 I didn’t have a single class with a single person ic to the point that something “normal” for talking to me long after I slipped into dreams. I had ever known. For a girl with the interper- him was cause for concern. On that first day sonal skills of wallpaper, this was akin to en- though, it wasn’t my teacher’s myriad quirks When he called the police, hands gliding over tering the lion’s den armed with a toothpick, that caught my attention, nor was it the quotes phone keys, I could feel your fingers move if that den also happened to house cobras and and literary posters plastered around the The Things I’ll Never against Untitled sharks and maybe a dragon or two. room. It was the enraptured look with which my back, tracing words into my skin, the low i bumbled through my first day in the girl who sat across from me regarded him. Tell My Mother light Converse and a pencil skirt (looking back on I spent my first day laughing in my head at her, of a television soothing me to sleep. Katrine it, that was probably my greatest mistake), thinking she was way too happy to be there. Erin Conroy knocking into people and lockers and my own It took me until now to realize that she must Jessica Blau When that metal first bit into my wrists, Zoe Jeka Sellersville, PA inhibitions. Finally, I got to period six-seven have known somehow what I had to learn Milton, MA I remembered the sharp taste of blood in my Severna, MD English Honors with Mr. Crooke. Naturally, gradually: that Mr. Crooke would change our mouth, my assigned seat was the very front seat of the lives. teeth to tongue, as I slipped lipstick and soda Sticky fingers, kids call me, ask for a pack It was one of those instants, those miniscule very front row. I stared at it as if it were made Slowly, too slowly, I synced with the bottles and comfort under my shirt, She does not let many people hold of skittles, a magazine, that nice tampax, pearly moments in your life when it’s like someone of pins, flamethrowers, and various other in- rhythm of the class. I grew to count on it; I her piano fingers. But I know plastic, not that cardboard shit they’re used to. freeze-frames your thought processes. When struments of torture that I would have rather knew that if I had a day where it felt like I was the heel of your dining room table in my back her mother died, you can’t think, but you don’t need to. as the neighbor boy fucked me, the hard and she reached for comfort and endured than sit in that godforsaken seat. But, incessantly paddling upstream, Mr. Crooke’s They stand outside Safeway, one thin sheet mr. Crooke’s class was overflowing armed with my toothpick, I sat. I sat and I class would be my little island in the current. pavement of our driveway at night, laughter in glass bottles—careful with shocks like that, and by overflowing I of ice ready to break apart at the sight of a pa- gravel gripping to the bottom of my feet, not to break them. waited. I waited for a battle that never came. It was something I anchored myself to. And I trol mean like the tidal wave in Deep Impact. Ev- instead, I was met with a boy my ex- stopped laughing at that girl, Greer, and start- car, loss prevention staff, and they whisper ery day was more unique than a snowflake and my reflection in your bathroom mirror as I took I know she dove inside her wrists one day, act height with fox-brown hair and constantly ed listening to her. She had so much to say, and about the girl who doesn’t get caught, except just as laden with possibility. We went from laughing eyes. He sat behind the Chair of I shiver to think of how dark my high school your nail polish and your perfume bottles, and found air today. the bag in the back of my closet classes that had us crying to classes that had us Death, and he was the first person I actually trials would be if I had let my jealousy and in- instead of blood, filled with your favorite scarf, your baby’s crying in hilarity. But, through all the eccen- liked in Pennridge High School. I harbored security drown me. and she blamed this on her mother and screamed When his fingers closed around my wrist, sweater. until she was a child again, tricities – all the philosophy fights and vocab- that crush for a year, and now I wish I were still We read Romeo & Juliet in the be- stop miss, I wished it were you so her mother could kiss her piano fingers. ulary victories, all the oddities and “omens”, all in that chair and he were still laughing behind ginning of the year. More accurately, we fought and your fingers, soft, like they used to be, And when my hands were tied in the back the lines and lessons – I came out knowing, if me. with highlighters and laughed ourselves to before these small attempts at vengeance. of that police car, sirens screaming, skin I know she whispers goodnight nothing else, one of the most important things after that came a barrage of names tears while Mr. Crooke tried to explain the screaming, everything screaming, tell me, to a Polaroid photograph hidden under her pillow, I’ve ever learned: That I would be ok. I didn’t put any effort into remembering, but modern equivalent of the line “a right fair When he asked me what’s your name, how old did you even know where I was? and clings to her mother’s face Freshman year had me poised for a they wound up seared in my mind anyway. mark is soonest hit”. He connected to us in a are you, where are your parents, I thought as she begins to dream, face-plant of unprecedented proportions, the And I met Mr. Crooke. way that no other teacher came remotely close about the nights you sat at the foot of my bed, likes of which I had prayed I would never see. to hear her voice without the sickness mr. Crooke was and still is enigmat- to - the other team teachers were blatantly swallowing its melodies, without the wires choking jealous. I felt more honesty and camaraderie knew more about me than I did. That couldn’t her piano fingers. Could make the possible more real All things pass and connect again in that room that I did at home. I still do. be good. Thousands of inclinations started I went three feet down and my hands cramped one day, during the balcony scene stinging from the inside like I was a beehive I do not know the way she cries—raw and Anatomy of a I felt like machinery Snowflakes have an anatomy (during which I also had a fake tree shaken in distress. But when all of the chaos cleared, fierce in its silence, Exhaling shallow breaths through stone This is something I know in my face), Mr. Crooke asked us to write our I felt a serene kind of clarity. Hollow and untamed so that it is hard to listen. Snowflake Part of what I’d uncovered They fall like insects onto windshields Their wings clipped, their bodies dagger-like names on a piece of paper. At this point we whole at the same time. For the first time in I do not know desire Which was nothing but what people find on the glass were used to his antics; we just kept laughing my admittedly meager high school experience, -for Haley and Moira like she does—aching When they read the journals of the dead I can see each part of them and did as we were told. Then he picked up the maybe for the first time in my life, I felt like for the gentle nights they’ve never known I can see where they’ve been and where they’ll distinctive blue recycling bin, went to each of me. Like all of the memories and scars of dead when her mother was not buried The words make no sense and the places go us, and asked us if we would “tear the word”– pain evaporated to make way for something Camille Petersen and sharp at the edges, a photograph disintegrate rip up our names – for true love, like Romeo that needed all of me. And it finally had all of Morristown, NJ under her pillow. But you don’t know the person This is something I know promised to Juliet. He asked if we would give me. You are the person These snowflakes scare me up everything, our identities, for some one That class wasn’t simple. It dredged I do not know her thoughts when it is dark You’ve lived that life, it’s about you Imagine what we would look like to ourselves else. Most people did, a few refused. Then he up some secrets of mine that I wanted to keep and we’re following our shadows home Visible, unburied, decoded journals got to me, the very last person. He didn’t wait in the dark, and brought light to some things I because they know the way I know I don’t know You don’t know yourself except in these Insects and snowflakes for me to answer, which was good because I re- had been blind to. But that class was the single better than we do. When I was five I tried to dig a hole Distant glances, out of context renderings Imagine finding your soul on your windshield ally couldn’t decide. most significant event in my life because it Under a slide to get straight to China Seeing who you are is like watching the winter one morning he said plainly, “You won’t do it.” It started my life. It showed me with breakneck I do not know tender Mostly I needed to test the theory sun rise wasn’t a challenge. He just said it as if he was speed that I could be me, that I would be me, like she does. So I hold But I also wanted to believe in something Snow bleeding lost noise from forgotten This is something I know telling me the sky was blue. now and forever. her piano fingers, Buried underneath stories “No, I won’t.” I answered just as sim- and I will be ok. to feel a little more. Across the driveway and the sky’s colors ply, and he moved on. As if having faith in the impossible reminding you it felt… bizarre. My English teacher

12 : susquehanna university apprentice writer : 13 soon, and I quit the other things too soon, and monstrous shadow. looked at me, and yelled. come to see you when it’s all over. Just remem- things out a little later than they are due, for didn’t do well enough because they loved me We stepped into the car again and drove “Why don’t you just kill me?” ber that.” instance the distance from Boston to Maine, too much and I couldn’t reciprocate. away; he didn’t deserve it this time. I collapsed He took out his gun, cocked, and pointed Her eyes filled with non-existent tears, since the likeness of our feelings, the ways to etch a Reciprocity is tricky sometimes when I can’t into the comforter upstairs and didn’t wake up at me, saying, “I don’t want to use this, I don’t she’d forgotten what the others were like. memory in a spine, and the way to abhor the So They Say, We’ve remember being dead. West End, I must be again. So now, while standing with the mask want to use this.” thoughts of the ones who do no thinking. dead sometimes in my dreams, for on Chapin off above the canyon, I was being held in their And with a flash I was gone. When I sit next to the water, I never dream the coffee smells too strong in the room and arms, or in the chilly September parking lots in You’ll be OK, you’ll be OK, she kept turning of how I’d never be able to handle it now. Got Things In I’ve let them down again. Burlington. over in her mind. When I was eight and thrashed this way and “I couldn’t hear anything, I was sobbing.” I was shaken awake, with his hand slapping For many, many more days out across the Behind the other curtain a woman was that by the big waves on Styrofoam boards, I Common “What did he do to help?” me on the behind and tracing a circumference way, I felt alone and cathartic. Going home got weeping and screaming heard, but unheard, never thought at some point the undertow “No one was around me, no one at all, no on my upper thigh. to be too much, so I went elsewhere, in base- lost in an abyss. would be a Savior in the dark. one to help. Apparently no one in my life cares “Can you just try a little harder? Come on, ments in love, or on ice with nearly full packag- Help! Help! is what everyone thought she It’s the majority of the time that I want to Joshua Barber enough.” bud…just…show us a little bit, so we can cut a es of cigarettes, and not in the minds and lives was saying, though no one was sure. scream, and the other times I wish I was laying Bringhamton, NY It’s not been any different these days. Walk- little for you.” of the people who’d let me there. down in the grass again, smelling smoke and ing spirals, or sleeping in her bed again, I think “Get up!” riding a car far, far away the days after the ones I am so many things when I draw air, and of breathing tubes, and death on their spare And so it was the next day. “What?” that came before. Sometimes sitting, we think never enough to say what they are. Sometimes room bed. I smell the pillows when you leave In between drags, she stared uncomfortably, I knew this time. I think. of ourselves in a manner that means nothing I am a great leader with bands of howling men and lay on the carpet sucking in the empty and gray smoke emptied and fell out of ciga- “Ugh, I forgot again.” more than before. at my back, other times I am caught in the arms throats. It’s not meant to be a pity party, in fact It was an ordinary morning, except for the rettes dangling in fingers. There she stood. And so I ashamedly looked at each dimple I’ve never been to the other continents, and of a silent beautiful woman on a seashore at the I haven’t ever meant to distract people from real sun coming up differently this time, but next “What?” in the linoleum and felt the helpless come-up have never seen snow from another globe, and end of the world, still others I am laying on a problems inhabiting your bones and rib cage. time it won’t come up this way, but no, it’s dif- “Nothing.” in the heart. You’ll be OK. Screams of help! have never loved in another country, or another white bed in a white room on hardwood floors. She pulled out a wad of tissues from the ferent this time, he thought. It’s different this “Are you sure?” I looked again longingly at the linoleum for night, or another home. Great monsters advance towards my humble smooth-shelled black purse while he was speak- time, yes, that’s it. Every time it’s different it’s “I think so.” what I had known before. The linoleum trans- When I sit by the water, I think of being bones when the hour of last light comes along, ing, and managed to whisper out her availabil- not the same this time or that, which is which, “Are you positive?” ferred to hard gray concrete. seven again, or twelve, or six, and the best, four and far underneath the pitter-patter water ity for the next meeting by the time we left. She which is why when his father shot him, it made “I don’t know.” when the worst that happened was losing an ac- droplet footsteps in the dark, I imagine I am sprinted out the door and he rubbed my back sense. “Well Jesus, figure it out!” tion figure in the waves. Now smoking hash in three or four or five again, young enough to while I left him. Her purse was slung over her “Okay, I’m pretty sure I’m positive.” This time, I knew. I looked into her face and a semi-sewer drain, I seek to be out of my body, pretend I don’t know I am going to die. It’s in shoulder, she bought that with little money, I “Are you sure?” said sorry, I didn’t mean it, I was only kidding, and standing in the forest, all I could see was the last hours before father comes tracing open know, and she only ate a few times today, and Out across the airfield was more and more “Not really.” what was I supposed to know about a pistol? someone far across the way, stuck in there with lines on the small of my back that things are I should feel bad about it, but when do I get to snow. The airfield was white and the pavement “Well…Jesus,” (struggles to accentuate) “just There is nothing in a desert when you look far the rest. scariest, every second closer to sleeping again. feel it myself? I protected you my whole life. was cracked from years and years of salt cakes stop being so indecisive!” enough. Where was I yesterday? “It must be tough to hear that.” puncturing the pavement, which is black, the “How can I be sure about anything?” “I know sometimes it must not have felt that snow is white. Sitting on the pavement, he was By now, everyone else was occupied with Movies about nothing make us love each It’s always been. way, we never meant for it to feel that way.” crying again. Yesterday, he looked into their something else. The gaze she had was piercing; You’ll be OK. other more, I’ve come to think. And the things Catharsis is not too much of a trouble, I am The third time it happened, and the fourth eyes, and saw something different. I had to figure out whether I was sure or not, But she’s not, screaming and crying out change from year to year, and what goes on is not heavy too much anymore I don’t think, my it was a chore, and no more did she feel like she Now feigning death, he sits carbon mon- sure or not about what, ah, sure or not about groans of longing for the sunrise to come again the body, sinful, fattened, fattening, scarred, thighs have slimmed. Their circumference cir- had sons. Peculiarly, sitting in warm baths on oxide pluming like heaven out of the exhaust what, I was sure enough about what what was, to be remembered by someone or something. and things get to be so much different. The cles a lot less, and when I think in the couches Sunday nights reading D.H. Lawrence I wish pipes. It’s not too much finite, years, these days, but not sure if I was sure or unsure of what what And so, I sat in my cell staring at the cold more shit you do to yourself, the less you get I glide this way and that over the cushions, I I was dead. I fell like a ghost legless onto the they’re not much more than eternities lasting I was wondering what I meant before, and this gray hard concrete ceiling taking endless puffs to know what things were before you did them. am inside of a big circle and I think of how my new loveseat and the suede was swept over my seconds, so that tomorrow will feel like we’ve she could tell, because she got up to leave. and drags off a cigarette until the grays merged “We’ve got things in common, they say.” left thigh is slimmer than the right. It’s com- shoulders by him, he who grabbed my arm and grown tenfold. “Wait! I’m sure now.” together and I wondered what I was doing And that’s when it came to light: sitting in fort sometimes that I perceive ambling through dragged me out of the house. Next door, the He could remember the practice addition “Sure of what?” when I kicked the bumper. shambles, she went back to three hundred sev- the downtown at night under the Hess station neighbors must be dropping their forks, be- tests, the ones he swept through quickly but “The what you asked before.” enty-three days before and said she didn’t like lights, or collapsing in a car seat, or talking on cause the Miami Heat have won again and be- stalled on the last one, or the matches in the “Oh! Well, what?” what I was becoming, and crying in the flooded the phone, or sitting here now twice a week. cause they must hear them screaming outside. state parks that didn’t go well enough because “What?” “So they say, we’re alike in many ways.” basement I peed in my pants and tripped up the So many things have sat next to me, among I drooled and I sneezed and I cried. No they lacked a thumbs-up or fist pump. “What what?” The old man stretched out his legs on the stairs, and fell at her feet in my head. I kicked which I count family and etchings of cyclists more came of it except now thinking of the So now sitting it doesn’t mean much any- “I was just looking.” park bench talking about Rembrandt and other myself in the foot, and ice skating on Saturdays, and magnetic stacks and goo drip dropping for summer at the pool and you and your mother more, which is why he wanted to let it go. Rid- “Oh, OK.” Dutch masters. I was the king of the rink. What I would give forty-five minutes. talking about your distance. Five months later, ing over the back roads, the car got caught in “I’m never in love with the season I’m in.” to go back, and end it before it started to come The dreams are a lot crazier these days, and we are in love and locked on couches for hours the snowbanks, and he returned to watch travel out. during the two hour naps I am far across the speaking of distance and space. I can dream of shows. I stepped out of the car and kicked the bum- “We’ve got things in common, they say.” night with my mother and father, and now un- the future, and things feel like something else. per as the smoke popped the hood off. In my dreams, everything gets put back to He took a pistol and put it in his mouth. recognizable I dream of cities in the dark and Space is fascinating to them, but not any- “It’s busted.” the way it was. Sitting next to me any longer When he let it go, I picked it up and laid there canvas bags and books and Italy in late August more. He walks across the room and lifts up She is sitting in shambles while I say it, which “No shit.” is a different color sound when I think of the crying in the pool of blood when the police in small grandmother villages. Sitting here, I the clothes from the red chair. is expected anymore, not different or different summer, or the summer before, and I always came, and I told them I did it, and they looked can only dream of a better time and days with “We need to talk.” than before. “Just hang on. Just have hope. You’ll be figure things out a little later than when they at me. no obligation, but I’ve been robbed. Sitting “No.” I came home that night and heard her shrill okay, I know it.” happen. Walking together on the balconies at “Son, people don’t murder the ones they next to me, she is simply shards. The grand- “Alright.” jabs. When he came downstairs he sat in suede, She stared emptily at him into his brown night, riding bicycles secretly in the summer, love.” fathers in the fire drills hug the hardest when And with a start he was gone. But today and I looked at him, stood up, walked away. eyes. and sitting on blankets in the park. It was a And with that they put a bullet in my brain. their babies play baseball, but I quit that too now, he seems resigned and sitting back to her He yelled back. I came back to the yell, and he “Just remember we’ll be there for you. We’ll different time, this is for sure. I always figure

14 : susquehanna university apprentice writer : 15 stink. She knew her mother His bare teeth promised fish smell incomplete when you look at them for Wouldn’t approve of him— To swallow the he’s come to thinking little object, the butterfly beneath the sky ceiling, too long a time. His smile had no manners Space between their skins. where in my dreams sometimes he has tiny hands And his eyes told tales around the bend and shoulder mucus that sticks in the hinges of bread and fishes, i like to wash dirty dishes…the That had never been to church. A heretic, his ugly little spine. stains wipe off nicely, a cleaving gone through the She named him— anymore the bones of my lower leg have gotten to jutting tide, like the hands of some Heretic But he had a way of Someone to burn her mouth recently… Crooking his lips With blasphemy and MYSTERIOUS Like false prayers, Promise her a fall Joshua Baber i’ve gotten to watching the waves more than Angela Sim Tearing down her god From grace, Binghamton, NY usual, for the time of year. watchman (tick-tick, go to sleep) through my Wallingford, CT And daring her Leaving nothing vena cava, which is where i get to thinking the To find it beautiful. But the taste of him what happened to you over the past year?—to it may well be a creak in the floorboard coming worst things. And when her name Raw in her throat my grandmother down Fell off his mouth, And the fingermarks some- Like pearls Untying her hips. the first thing the dead blind man saw was (a Rolling across her tongue, piece of wood) a kingfisher and a limousine, so where he cut it far between the fire and the knick-knacks is a boy fusses in his car seat as his mother scrambles brant; I have never seen so much color in one and drove away, screaming, “i must mark my- who cries to make sure the little boy has enough to eat. bowl. The sausage and peppers smell hearty self!” so channeling strauss, he beneath the ceiling upside down. this is no juxta- Middle aged men sleep in their chairs, while and delicious. Frances puts as much care and wolf, and “my destiny is sealed; my fate complete! Food for Thought others sit huddled close, chatting and telling attention into every detail of this meal for the thought to himself, i very much do live a life of position, it’s only thinking side by side if it was stories. A cluster of men who were hanging needy as she would were it for royalty. big and grand strings in a dark city street. turned on it(s) side (-ide). don’t kill me wolf!” out outside under a tree enter the room and Eventually, I am at the sink wash- with them comes a cool breeze and the scent of ing dishes and I rush through because I want he’s come to thinking around the bend anymore if you drop space for more of it, you get to feeling and he was a tragic lover, more than the next, so Jared Benatar marijuana. No one seems to mind. to finish in time to make it to my basketball confined, which is what he does it was and running naked through the apart- Roslyn, NY lesson at the gym. Smiling, Frances turns to today--this is him looking at your books of paint- ment filled with people, bloody procedure done in driving here this morning, I thought me and says, “I appreciate your help Jared, and at night in the winter time. what is outside the the bathroom, sick and miserable, and scream- about what my first experience volunteering please, I hope you’ll come back here soon.” I ings I enter the dingy basement of the window in the morning? mother, don’t make me ing, watching how slow time was moving at a soup kitchen would be like. I envisioned say goodbye to her and she hugs me as if we are church, wary of what awaits me inside. Fran- go to the other side! shut the window linens and a place full of famished, dejected, and an- now friends for life. and reading your record sleeves. come unhinge ces greets me immediately. She has jet black tuck in the morning light, it has to sleep too in his dreams. gry people, and conjured up images of folks it’s a long drive home, so I find my- the doors beneath the sink, for the garbage is wet hair and a slightly rotund build. Frances is in dressed in tattered rags, waiting on long lines self mulling over the day. An uneasy feeling and it’s gotten to charge of the soup kitchen, scurrying about and don’t make me walk outside today. 6 february 2012 to receive a piece of bread and a bowl of soup begins to creep in, along with a pang of guilt. and managing the flood of men, women, and from a large steaming kettle. Boy, was I wrong. Here I am, dashing off to pay someone to im- children who come in and out. “So glad you many of the men and women in this prove my basketball skills, while the dozens could help today, Jared. Let me see where I room are indistinguishable from the people I of people to whom I just doled out food can Make her see how much she really does miss Just go? Leave behind memories and houses? can put you,” she says as she ushers me about. come across daily. If I were to see them walking barely afford a meal. It dawns on me that one The innocence in the autumn leaves, Some say that bridge is one they’ll surely cross Within seconds I am in the front of the room, on the street, I probably wouldn’t recognize day, with a stroke of bad luck, I too could find But hard times have left harsher weather. When it is reached, one and the same whether running the breakfast area. that they need the help of a soup kitchen to get myself on the other side of that table, accept- They make the first step themselves, or the The morning starts slowly, but little by. Equally surprising to me is the overall ambi- ing food from generous strangers. This nags at None in this town believe they could weather choice by little, people gravitate toward me. I pour The Losing Game ance of the basement. The sullen atmosphere me. I struggle to justify why too oftenI spend The storm brewing, that bleak and nearing Is made for them. Either way, what’s to miss? milk for some, scoop sugar coated cereal for that I had anticipated was just in my head. money on frivolous and unnecessary things. I choice. others, and slice overripe bananas for most. Sarah Mathews Here, a casual air fills the room, as friends re- tell myself that I’m still only a young adult, and Politics kicked up in the air like leaves, Young strangers would come up and say, “Hey Each person says a warm thank you, some Plum, PA connect and others get acquainted. If I didn’t if my parents are willing to indulge me, then And at the top, a man no one dared to cross. Miss, looking at me directly, others with heads know better, I would think that this is a com- I might as well enjoy the opportunity while Though, if he were to die, no one would miss Do you remember playing in the leaves? bowed down. In sullen days where sullen people cross munity social event. But then, Frances reminds I can. But within seconds, my conscience re- The tyrant and cheers would ring from houses. Back when you thought you’d have a say, a Time passes, and as breakfast turns The streets, too busy to care what they miss, me that most of the people have come to this jects this. I remember the people at the soup choice?” to lunch, more and more people fill the room. She stands on bridges wondering whether place because they don’t know where their kitchen; I see them one by one, smiling, eating Never having slept safe in their houses, Asking on sweeter memories as they pass hous- I watch with a curious eye. A gray-haired old Or not to jump, then loses nerve and leaves. next meal is coming from, and some live with and chatting, and then I make a decision. At The people oftentimes wonder whether es, woman helps herself to what is left of a bowl Amidst busy streets and crowded houses the fear of having to choose between buying home, with a bold black marker, I write “soup This life is one that they could ever miss; Even making talk about the weather of fruit, making sure she quietly stuffs several She thinks that perhaps she’s made the wrong food or paying rent. As I study their faces, I re- kitchen” across every Saturday on my calendar Their inability to make this choice Until they reached the street and had to cross. shiny red apples into her purse for later. A choice. member that each person is someone’s mother, for the next three months. Serves only to make them more scared and toothless elderly man sits hunched over and brother, child or friend, and I wince at the What started out as just community cross, They all bear that cross, and it never leaves stares off, smiling occasionally at the volunteers Although, really, there was no other choice. thought. service work will now be an endeavor of my And they give up, lying face down in the leaves. A sore spot to miss. Inside torn houses, who pass him by. A frazzled looking mother Running her hand along the tarnished cross i help Frances dice beets for the salad heart. As I slip off my Air Jordans, I think of They wonder whether they made the right strolls in with her two children, one a baby and On her neck, the starved children and ruins of and slice onions for the sausage and peppers. Frances and smile. Yet who can say they’d be able to leave? choice. the other a young boy of about eight. The baby houses The corn-tomato-beet-and-avocado salad is vi-

16 : susquehanna university apprentice writer : 17 one second as you get your towel on. Open the acorns. You breathe. Meghan Shea West Chester, PA door anxiously. Contain your excitement and don’t hug him too hard. He is grinning. Grin back. Take him downstairs to get a glass of wa- ter. You still wear nothing but a pink towel and lie to your mother when she asks flushed cheeks. He’ll be around more often; you why there are two glasses of iced tea on the Note to this is what he tells you. Get out the pitcher table. Shrug when she asks you why your towel of iced tea. Tell him how much you’ve missed is draped over the chair. She is suspicious. him. Ask him how his trip was. Insist that you Run to your room after a contrived conversa- Deteriorating Self come with him next time. Pour him a glass of tion with her about your day. Get ready for iced tea as you chat with him. Feel his eyes on another shower. Turn the water on to the hot- your back as cubes of ices plop into the pitcher. test temperature. Feel it scorch. It burns you Charlene Francois Ringlets will form where the cubes interrupted to the core. Know that it can’t hurt as much Livingston, NJ to the peace of the still water. Your towel will as what he did to you. It feels like the begin- still be on. Set a coaster down in front of him, ning of something…be afraid.Your father asked then his glass of iced tea. Sit with him at the him to stay over for a week. His apartment was table. Cross your legs. Adjust your towel. You being renovated, and he had nowhere else to When it is quiet, become suspi- should go get dressed, but you do not want to stay. Call him to the kitchen table for dinner. cious. Carefully drop the laundry basket. leave his side. Inform him that your parents At dinner, look at your mother as she feigns Don’t forget to tell Lauri to put her clothes in are at the lake today. Don’t get uncomfortable kindness. Act normal. Walk him downstairs to her hamper, rather than leave them in a heap when his eyes linger for too long on your chest. the guest room. The basement will feel dank. on her chair. Listen past the normal creaking You awkwardly stammer into a new conversa- Comment on the musty smell and apologize of the steps for the sounds. Try to remember tion. on its behalf. Show him the brown sheets and where everybody went. Pray to God that he’s wooden desks in the guest room. Lead the not here. Then, realize that if God existed, he way back upstairs to the kitchen. Try to run would have listened to your begging long ago. Go get dressed. Take him to your around him to get through the doorway lead- There are sounds simply produced by your hammock outside. Let him swing back and ing back upstairs. He will block you. Retrieve paranoia. Don’t panic. Fight the paralysis from forth. Lie on the ground beside him. Think a nervous laugh from the bottom of your body. your fear and steady that trembling bottom about how all of your friends are at prom Is he serious? He really will not let you leave. lip. Reprimand yourself for wearing a skirt and right now. Don’t regret not going, especially Tell him your mom wants you back upstairs. tank top today. Consider changing into long since you did not have a date. Tell him. Don’t Don’t scream when he covers your mouth with sleeves and pants, but then tell yourself that think about why you are telling him, just do his callused hands. Your neck will hurt when you have no time. Pull out a suitcase from the it. Smile when he tells you that there should your hand bangs against the headboard on the as you run out of the room. Don’t stop to hear down to the elementary school. Swing on the corner in the attic. Climb in and seek refuge. be no reason why you do not have a date. You way down. Grab his hands, fight to push this the rest of his threats. But you won’t run fast creaky swings. Try to recapture your child- Yank the cover back up. Huddle inside your- are an attractive and funny young lady. Move bastard off. He will become more aggressive. enough to miss the beginning of his sentence. hood, and the innocence that existed with it. come back to reality. In the attic, self, and bring your knees close to your heart. your knee when his hand skims over it. Justify Fight back. Find this inner strength to remove He’ll be waiting for you. Remember when you would swing and look up you are a thirty year old curled up into a ball Your eyes are watering. Blame it on the dust. why he would be touching you there. Still, you his weight from your body. Button your shirt into the sky, trying to grab clouds of blue and of fear. You still hear someone coming up the Wipe the sweat of your palms on the side of have officially become uncomfortable.M ake a heaven. steps. He is calling your name. Don’t answer. the spacious suitcase. Shudder when you begin decision whether or not you should look into When it happens, your father can If you go home, he will be there. Don’t open your eyes. Maybe if you’re quiet to think about what could happen. Count each his eyes. Do you want to see where he is look- hear the banging of the headboard and the But he is here too. You feel him all around enough, he’ll leave. The sound is coming closer wracking breath. Try to breathe more steadily. ing? His eyes will be locked with yours. Force cries of a young girl with no fight left in her. He you. The sweat from his hands stinging your and you can tell that he is now in your room. Feel dirty. Then, beg to feel clean. yourself to smile. He will squeeze your knee had your father’s dignity and secrets in his con- face as it dripped. Don’t tell anyone. It is He tugs on the zipper of the suitcase and coax- Remember the first time it happened. Anticipation again. Panic. Let your heart beat with a more trol. And, he was willing to use them against dark now. Brush off the dirt from the swings. es you to come out. You look at the face, and it Remember this being the first time that you accelerated rhythm, and feel the hairs on the Julia Xia your father. So, your father does not do any- Walk home in the dark. Look left. Look right. looks like the face of the man who killed your lied to your mother. He molded a shelter of back of your neck rise. You hear the crunch- Staten Island, NY thing to help you. He would rather keep this Scurry across the streets. Walk quicker as the innocence. But, this man is telling you that he lies for both of you to hide the secret in and for ing of gravel in the driveway. Mom is home. man as his friend, than as his enemy. streetlights turn off. Hear him behind you. is your husband and that those times are over. some reason, you cannot escape from it. Go He panics and demands you not to let anyone Feel his breath on your neck as you turn the He is always the one to open the suitcase and back to the exact moment when it happened. know that he was here. Take that confused Balmy morning, the first warm touch of spring; corner onto your street. Run up the sidewalk rescue you. You’re not young anymore, but you Let your heart cry. look off of your face. Nod in compliance. Wind cradles the breath of ocean mist Stay later at school. Smell the am- until you reach your porch. Realize that there are still acting like a baby. Believe that you are

Watch as he runs away through your backyard, and I soar in winter’s cold farewell embrace. monia of the janitor’s cleaning supplies. Watch is no refuge from him inside. Climb through protected. Hug your husband. Sit with him through your neighbor’s yard and around the My feet are drums, they tap a cozy beat her limp down the hallway. She looks at you your bedroom window so he cannot hear you. on the bed and let him comfort you. Don’t be corner to the bus stop. You didn’t know he as they race against the stinging breeze suspiciously. Stick your nose into your Trigo- Realize that eventually he know that you have embarrassed as your kids stare at you from the You are naked and hear somebody wasn’t allowed to be here. Feel sick. Feel the towards summer’s retreating sun. nometry textbook and don’t make a sound. If arrived. Be quiet. Lift one leg over the sill and other side of the room. Glance back at your breathing outside the door. Open the shower touch of his hand on your knee. Lean over be- Then day rolls up its sleeves, you’re thrown out before the latest possible push your way into the room. Don’t turn on husband. Then, turn your head so he cannot door. Feel the chill of the room mingle with hind the oak tree and wretch. Rid your body gathering clouds around its shoulders. second, it will be over. You’ll have to go home the lights. Curl up into a ball in your bed. He’ll see the tears that seep from your eyes when he the steamy air from the shower. Stop when of his touch. Realize that something very sick The darkness scatters heavy rain beads. and he may still be awake. When the lights be- be here soon. squeezes your knee. you hear the knock. Breathe in relief when has just happened. You don’t go straight inside gin to turn off in the school, walk a few blocks you hear him say his name. Ask him to wait your home. You sit amid the sweet grass and

18 : susquehanna university apprentice writer : 19 I cradle smoke-blasted wood, Grit from a spilled sandbag peppers my arm. out-their-iPhones-and-text-their-best-friend- They’re alright. child’s hands too small I squint through sweat and gungrease. that-they-Just. Saw. You. Just alright? for the black iron grip. Exhale. Their models wear too much make- Squeeze. i felt a sharp pinch on my right. up. They tell me: First Shot Breathe in deep. Hold. I sunder paper to shreds, my eyes darted toward my pocket. She stopped stirring her coffee and Elbows locked, shoulders steady. rip back the bar and ratchet, Jonathan Esty The Billboard Nothing. Then I saw the ground rushing at me, stared down at her cup, like a child whose fa- spitting out a crumpled golden casing as if its hinges were at my feet and I, a door, vorite toy just broke. Cheshire, CT Center the sight and target. like the shiny foil slammed shut upon it. Keep the ring around the dot, the line under- of a candy wrapper. how much? neath. Sometimes, when you get knocked She reminds me of a clown, except Imagine it’s a lollipop. Leo Yu Cupertino, CA down, the only thing to do is to get up. Do you probably with less makeup on. feel helpless? Don’t. Can’t get up? Then crawl. is there that much? They say it’s the journey that counts. But that’s i mean, she’s not bad. Dockray Funeral Home is flooding. with crisps of bacon smoked black. not true. How you get up isn’t as important as not bad? Passing cars slow, rubber slicing puddles. actually getting up. Yea h . The wooden walls soften like your skin We spent that summer soaked in rain, beige tiles lined the path. A ray of after showers. Wet earth swallows spent three weeks scraping roadside mud Why? dim moonlight led the way. I walked and Rainy Season a sunken foundation, out from under our fingernails. I’m not sure i like her outfit. walked, past the Starbucks on the corner of the weight of too many processions. what this means, but I forget the sound What if she didn’t wear that outfit? the rain made as it leaked through 43rd and 8th, past Grand Central Station, When I came to, a figure in a leather i like her jewelry. Do you remember Bath, Maine? the motel window pane. I want to see until I was in Times Square. Some people say jacket and jeans appeared. are those the only reasons? Nicole Achempong The potholed streets, the graying diners your face, strained to the sky. I want you Times Square is a bright, shiny place. It’s not. no. I just like her. You don’t need rea- Sharon, MA slicked with grease, the cracked vinyl drowned in a season’s downpour. It’s a vacuum, it sucks your energy away, and a hand. I took it and got up. The sons for that. booth where we piled our plates high everyone’s the same there. Just your garden-va- hand belonged to a woman. I glanced at her. riety fanny-pack-schlepping, Coolpix-clicking, What just happened? Before I could ask her, I-heart-NY tourist. elbows began jabbing me, pushing me back, Remember Sundays, but I liked the click my molars made as I was once again reminded of where I was. I She left. But before she did, she said, a newspaper drifted through the air when rainwater pooled in the gutters, every time we hit a rut. opened my mouth to speak, but the din of the Here, call me, and handed her business card to like urban tumbleweed, landing on my chest. when our father’s truck tarped in blue plastic traffic drowned me out. I mouthed the words me. I peeled it off. The front page was an advertise- camped beside the curb. At the grocery, he would cut the engine, Staaaar. Buuucks. and pointed past her. ment for some seminar: The Individual and step to the street. Waiting, we peered i returned to where I fell. By now, it Others. We crouched on the back door mat, beneath the tarp at stones embedded in the She nodded and disappeared into the was deserted. I looked at the card she handed yanked wool socks up road. horizon of the crowd. me: Kate Kerrigan, Vanguard Models. I turned Open Road Whenever you feel like everyone else over our knees and laced sneakers it over. In the streetlight, a familiar picture is better than you, just remember: You’re dif- soft and shapeless. Sometimes there would be water chestnuts, emerged. Green dress. Blue backdrop. Lots of ferent. There’s only one of you. No two people Elizabeth Bennett salt water taffy that we peeled makeup. I held the finger-smudged card up, are the same. Did you know? They found that The screen clacked against the doorframe as we from cellophane squares, counter-clockwise seven times. next to the always bright, always shiny bill- Milton, MA even identical twins are not actually identical. plunged but remember, remember Clockwise seven times. A gentle sip followed board; the women were unmistakably, undeni- Maybe in a parallel universe identical twins into rain. He shimmied the canvas sheet from each time, he started the engine. by an abrupt slurp. That was how she stirred, ably the same. Identical twins even. are actually identical. Nobody knows for sure the roof, and drank, her Skinny Vanilla Latte. She re- though, as such a place may or may not exist. leashed the edges to the truck bed. When smoke settled on the air peated this motion several times before realiz- do you think that shiny is best? Do Wedged underneath, we rolled together he had lipped the first cigarette, ing that she had drank it all. It didn’t faze her; you wonder how it feels to stand out? Well, ac- as I passed a billboard, I stopped to like cigarettes slid smooth in their pack. the pack of Marlboros tossed she repeated the motion as if there were more. tually, it doesn’t make you feel that special. In- look up at it. There she stood. Arrogant. Tiger like a deck of cards on the dashboard. stead, after a while, you realize nothing has re- eyes. Glossy black hair. Makeup. Lots of make- You pressed your palms beneath your chin, if you’re feeling like nobody cares ally changed. It’s like that feeling you get when up. Probably too much. It was an advertisement about you, don’t hurt yourself. Chances are it’s a quarter past midnight on New Year’s Day- for Gucci, but the model wasn’t even wearing there’s at least one person in this world who -something feels different, but actually, every- To think she sees nothing the doorstep, she had dreamt that much Gucci. If anything, Gucci was more thinks you’re special. You may think that you’re thing’s the same. But no worries. You’re still beyond you. In bed my grandmother an ugly birth. She thinks of an advertisement for the no-doubt up-and- not, but you are. Really. People know how spe- shiny. You’re shiny on the inside. coming model. It was yet another example of cial you are. They’re just afraid to say it. stirs, her body a budding of light she had been young then. The Fame. The walking-up-to-the-hostess-of- on a birdless tree. Wa k e a-three-star-Michelin-rated-restaurant-with- We were the only two there. But holding her, I wonder out-a-reservation-and-waiting-for-her-to-rec- She has told me about the waking Haeyeon Tina Cho ognize-you-before-she-mentions-the-”special”- dunno. I just remember a billboard of things. How the end of a life if she dreams of it still, Milton, MA booth-that-has-coincidentally-”just”-opened- if, as she listens with hair flattened to sheets, lady with a green dress. Blue backdrop. up-while-those-waiting-patiently-in-line-el- lies closer to its beginning, how ah. That one. bow-the-person-beside-them-and-point-fin- one day when her father’s shoes left her eyes reflect the look of dawn Yea h . that smears into sleep. gers-and-flash-looks-of-adoration-and-take- you like Gucci ads?

20 : susquehanna university apprentice writer : 21 but whys, the things that I could never i’m surprised when he speaks to Let me ride my hot pink Barbie bike give. me, since he never has before. Kids some- by myself, without the elbow pads Let it wash my cuts and wipe away my tears, times do and sometimes don’t, but he’s and knee pads and the safety of your car and let me find my own way back and inside, one who doesn’t, who stopped believing creeping behind me just in case I might fall. and upstairs to the bathroom closet, The God Particle The boy hasn’t moved for a while. as soon as he heard that the air above him where the Power Ranger band-aids wait. He’s hiding, crouched inside the red tube stretches far past rambling clouds—com- Practice Let me fall. Let my skinned knees bleed in the playground, breathing the stale, posed of water vapor, intangible and prov- red ribbons on the pavement and let me come Let me relish the pain from plastic air through his mouth. Outside, his en so—into a stratosphere populated by limping home alone. But if you’re there, the sore scrapes on my knees Victoria White brother charges around the playground in lonely birds, outwards and upwards until Jana Ruthberg still watching don’t let me in the car. Drive as I climb onto the toilet to reach Stonington, CT a pickup soccer game, their mother watch- it thins to nitrogen and oxygen, argon and Livingston, NJ away. the box. Watch me slip and try again. ing from a bench. She eyes other peoples’ carbon dioxide, trace amounts of other running, shrieking kids with a listless gases, falling away into yawning space and And when it starts to rain, watch the water Let me put on my own band-aid, So there’s this thing called the kind of hatred. She doesn’t hate them, re- further still, the stars, flares of white-gold soak through the slats of my sticker-plastered tenderly patch up my own wounds. Higgs Boson, which unless you’re really ally, so much as the way everything’s still hydrogen. helmet, drip into my hair, my t-shirt, Let me start early. into physics, you’ve probably never heard going on like normal. For him, things fall neatly into and stick to my shivering body. We’ll call it practice for later. of. Just trust me when I say it’s a pretty big She hasn’t noticed her younger rows and columns on the periodic table. deal if you are. I’m no physicist, but the son’s disappearance. It’s been several min- He knew as soon as he learned what was faith—wouldn’t want to believe these So let’s put it this way: everyone’s touch with the universe and immensely best I understand it, it’s like this: you’ve utes since he crawled into the tube, curled past the sky that there wasn’t room for things happen for a reason. He’s too ratio- something, right? A dancer, a business- alone. got atoms, right? Made of protons and up tight like the clot that formed inside heaven, and isn’t going to be fooled into nal to even buy into it. man, a teacher. The boy’s a scientist. Take Freshman year, he moves into a electrons and neutrons. And you break his father’s heart a couple weeks ago. He believing anything. I hate you, he says, uncomfort- the time, just a second, to picture it—his new school, a bigger lab, and learns that those down into more particles, funda- needed to get away from everyone else be- in a way, I respect him for that. ably, clumsily. He doesn’t know how to first few steps into his middle school sci- nothing can ever be proven. “Even grav- mental particles with names like ‘quark’. fore he could mourn. Some people in his place would lose yell at anyone yet. He wipes his nose and ence lab. Of course he doesn’t talk to me. ity is only a theory,” says his chemistry On a side note, I know what they’re do- tries again. He believed in you, you know? Heresy. It doesn’t mean I’m not watching. teacher, dropping a marker to clatter on ing is important, but really. How they ever So you better exist for him. He better be With him, I take in the battered posters, the floor. “In any part of science, we can thought a quark could be taken seriously happy now. the stained glass flasks, the spidery molec- gather evidence to support our reasoning, is beyond me. he’s talking at me, I realize, not ular models crouched on the windowsills, but we can’t prove it’s true.” but the point is, these fundamen- with me. He needs someone to be angry and for a moment, just like him, I want to The boy raises his hand. “So how tal particles, they’re what make up the with. He doesn’t believe. I want to tell him know. do we know about atomic structure?” whole of everything. We get that. That’s I’m not trying to hurt him, that I know at first it’s enough to learn about “Scientists hypothesize and test fact already, the physics gospel. The Higgs how this feels—not that I empathize, not the molecules that make up everything, their theories,” says the teacher. “That’s Boson, this thing the media’s calling the that I understand, but that I know. but soon he wants to hear about protons, the only way we can try to figure it out.” ‘God particle’, is different. It’s this tiny on the other side of the world, neutrons and electrons; he wants to un- “How?” the boy presses, and the teacher theoretical particle created by something in a dusty, empty street, a soldier is shot. derstand how he’s the same, deep down, sighs and gives him the chapter in the called a Higgs Field, and the Higgs Field A car in Germany hits black ice and skids as trees and skies and stars. The whole textbook that covers it. Tonight’s read- is what gives everything mass—and stop off the road. A twelve-year-old in Minne- world, he thinks, atoms dancing around ing, he says, certain most kids won’t do me, here, if I’m going too fast. I’ll say that sota listens to her father throwing dishes each other. Crazy. it, but the boy wants to know: wants to again: Higgs fields give mass to particles across the kitchen, aiming at her mother’s over dinner one night, he men- break down people into pieces, wants to moving through them. They make every- head. In the tube, the boy keeps trying not tions that a human body is always replac- find out what comes next and then, in a thing tangible, real, there. That’s called to cry. ing cells, dying and recreating every part small, dark corner of his mind, wants even the Higgs Effect. if you talk to one, you have to of the self, so in a way, we’re all dying all more to know that it stops somewhere, i know, I know, these names. talk to them all. the time, and death’s just the point where that there’s a point where things are pure It’s that all these theories come from the i stay quiet. you stop doing that. I think he thinks it’ll and made of nothing but themselves. same person, Peter Higgs: great guy, but Fuck you, he says inexpertly, not help. His mom puts down her fork, biting “I think I want to study particle he spent more effort on science, less on for the last time. her lip. “Fuck it,” says his brother thickly, physics,” he says one night. His mother is terminology. Atheist, too—not that I’m after a moment, and leaves the table. cleaning up from dinner in the kitchen, judging, but it meant he hated the name The boy thinks, forlornly, wish- packing the leftovers into Tupperware. ‘God particle’. i’m not going to say that this kid’s ing he could tell someone else, that peo- He and his brother sit in front of the TV. Thing is, though, that’s sort of passionate. I don’t like that word—most of ple float through life, all living and aging The brother, unpicking the laces of his what it is. The Higgs Field gives every- the time I don’t like any of the words that and dying the same, and never remember soccer cleats, looks up and frowns. thing substance: it’s the foundation for are supposed to show how much some- they’re just space filled with the hum of “The fuck is that?” physics. Take a second for that to sink one cares about something. You know the life. ‘Person’ doesn’t mean too much to The boy thinks hard for a mo- in. They’ve gambled a field of science on ones I’m talking about. Interview buzz- him any more when they’re all the same, ment. “Remember protons and neutrons? a particle they haven’t proven exists. Of words: interest, passion, etcetera. The aren’t they? People? Atoms? The stuff from chem?” He always talks course, it probably does, but people don’t one that comes closest is calling, but even lying in bed that night, he twists like this at home, picking words short want likelihood, they want proof. Cer- that doesn’t cover it. When you really love his fingers together and expects to be able enough not to piss his brother off. “It’s tainty. Physicists worldwide are salivating something then it’s not what you do, what to push straight through, parting mol- sort of the study of that. And what they’re for it. People, those greedy, irresistible you’re drawn to, it’s what you are. ecules that are only empty air. He feels in made of.” creatures, don’t just want what and hows Kendall Fawcett Scotch Plains, NJ 22 : susquehanna university apprentice writer : 23 The brother chews this over. about poetry and loves it when he lets her because she sometimes smokes up before on the grill, she finds it hard to imagine abruptly to hit something. “Who cares about that?” unpack it in front of him, parse it to its work—come on, she’d say, like anyone anywhere farther away. “You’re going to “I know,” she replies haltingly. “I think it’s kind of cool.” roots, plucking symbols from the text like cares on the night shift—and her head’s Switzerland.” “I’m just a little out of practice.” “Fucking weirdo,” the brother rabbits from hats. She talks for him and still a little fuzzy, but when she gets the “We’re going to Switzerland.” She chews on her lip as they lurch says, kicking his cleats onto the rug. he listens for her, and it works. details she nearly drops the plates she’s She can hear him smiling. “I don’t speak towards the ground. “It’s amazing,” says Untitled Their conversations are one-way carrying. “Oh my God!” she yelps. “Oh French, remember?” the boy, next to her, and she ‘uh-huhs’ streets walked hand-in-hand, the girl al- my God, I told you you would!” “Babe.” She laughs a little. “I vaguely. It’s never occurred to her that be- The letter comes in the mail on ways tugging ahead. She doesn’t know a and he’s going again, more about can’t move to Switzerland. I’ve got a job.” ing able to discuss poetry in French isn’t Ella Bishop-Heil a Tuesday. Turns out MIT thinks particle thing about science or particle physics, of this lab and she remembers, right? She Sure, it’s a loud, shitty job, but they don’t the same as being able to take care of her- Glade Spring, VA physics are kind of cool too. course, but when he tells her it’s the stuff racks her memory. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You care if you smoke and, you know, it’s hers. self here. “Shit,” says the brother that makes the universe work, she dis- told me about this. CERN. The one with And she can’t actually leave. Switzerland? Where I’m from, rivers are the size of snakes, “Thanks,” says the boy. agrees anyway. Self-described as spiritual, the underground… piping.” Yeah, good one. and the only thing bigger than our hair is our she’s Episcopalian by birth but converted “Um. The Large Hadron Collid- but he’s thinking already of his Two months in, the boy’s always sky. to Hinduism last year. They’ve got it all er,” says the boy. “Yeah.” family’s faces when they hear the news, of at the lab, and the girl can order herself Twenty-six and mostly done with figured out, she says, the way we’re all a That’s not how he wants to reply. the Higgs Boson and an answer to the last coffee in French from the corner café near I’m from leaps of faith, his Ph.D., he meets the girl at a friend’s little wrong about everything. That’s how He wants to say that 100 meters under the big why. “Come on,” he says, “don’t you their apartment, but somehow sitting from levels won by the frantic pressing house party. He’s never really gotten into it works, the soul tethered to the body city of Geneva, below the world’s largest want to go somewhere new? Just get away, there and drinking it on her own feels just of x! x! x! partying, but when he ducks into the like a balloon, within and beyond our particle physics lab, a 27-kilometer circle the two of us?” like it would in Boston. She wants him to And happiness is little elf-man in a green tu- kitchen looking for quiet he finds her, sit- existence, the Self above all, and all of us of tunnel—not piping—loops under the She looks around the diner, be home more often, to sit opposite her nic. ting on the counter and smoking a joint. swimming in a circle between death and Jura Mountains and back towards the city. phone tucked in the crook of her shoul- at the café table and act out a scene from “Hiya,” she says, and smoke fans from her life. She makes religion sexy to the boy, CERN—the European Organization for der, and thinks of a city with lakes and a romantic foreign film. She feels like she I’m from late-night music venues, find- lips, a smell like skunk and citrus. She and he’s embarrassed to tell her he doesn’t Nuclear Research—uses those tunnels clean streets, of tasting culture on the air, put down the script somewhere and can’t ing sanctity in the heavy haze of distortion, has wispy blond hair and large, reddish believe in anything. to accelerate particles to massive speeds a smell she imagines like Chanel No. 5. remember where she left it. reverberating off walls into each mo-hawk’d eyes. Her thin legs are spread even though and collide them in ways that are chang- She thinks of leaving the silverware for but he’s happier here, I think. body. she’s wearing a skirt, and he doesn’t know ing physics as we know it. He wants to re- someone else to clean, of sitting under a It’s not that he’s not happy other places, A push and pull of raw energy. where to look. Two years later, the girl is at work mind her about the Higgs Boson and how tree in a park and reading Victor Hugo. and the girl still makes him smile like she She drums her heels against the at the diner when he checks his email, and he knows, he’s always known, that they’re She nods against the phone. always has; whenever she says, “Je t’aime,” I’m from tubes of paint squeezed dry, cabinet and grins. “Want some?” she’s the first person he calls. His fingers just particles, but if it matters to him this and he replies I love you too in the only and graphite images. he takes the joint and breathes shake as he dials, and then the words all much then she could at least listen the French he’s ever learned, he still thinks A continual battle between my mind’s subcon- in, trying not to choke. He’s smoked a fall over each other when she finally picks first time. The city from above gulps the she’s the best person he knows, but she’s scious garden couple times before, but can’t ever shake up. He’s trying to tell her everything all at but instead he says, yeah, right, Rhône, a greedy mouth in profile, swal- not the compass on his map any more. and weeds of self-doubt. the feeling that his mom can see him. once, that it’s a yes and he got the fellow- and then he tells her the really great part. lowing Lake Geneva into a fraying river. He’s setting sail, this kid, for new coasts, When he coughs anyway, the girl’s laugh ship, that they picked him—him, out of “Geneva, huh?” She glances back and As they circle down towards the airport, drawing further from the her shores, get- I’m from a family of divorce, ripped apart by is raucous. everyone—can she believe it? forth across the kitchen. Surrounded by he’s glued to the plane window. He’s never ting his sea legs. I don’t think he’s yet hatred and patched together by the mallet “Good, huh?” it takes her a moment to catch up the clatter of plates and the sizzle of fat flown before. The girl says she has, and looked back. of a judge. he blinks tears from his eyes. “It she flew to Chicago once when she was it’s not like it’s easy, he tells his A new house each weekend, sheltering has a certain je ne sais quoi.” little, so it’s not technically lying. family on the phone, running a hand a little girl She jolts upright, and demands to She peeks over his shoulder any- through his hair. It’s a graduate position, dreaming of unison. know if he speaks French. He doesn’t, but The Backseat Is My Home When It’s Dark way. The plane cuts through gauzy clouds so it’s not like it’s that exciting, just lab Maybe. One day. she doesn’t let him answer: instead she and they see Geneva spread flat, scattering work, just going through data. I mean, starts telling him how she speaks French, at the edges into puzzle-piece fields. “It’s they’re not even doing hands on re- I am from a doped-down, tatted-up hell-hole majors in French lit, how she’s gotten into Adriana Van Manen Princeton, NJ so green,” says the girl, shocked by a city search—no, Mom, they don’t split atoms, of teenage life all this crazy Enlightenment shit from that’s not brick and glass. She sits back in it’s a little more complicated than that— Rising curls of smoke intertwining with the 18th century. She tries to translate As we drive through the outskirts of New York City, Papa speaks quiet Dutch words to a friend in the the chair, drumming her fingers on the but no, not for a few months. It’s really Zeppelin it for him but stops—it sounds better in passenger seat. Their golden syllables glint in the night, long lost antiques. armrests. She doesn’t like flying as much just crunching numbers, but it’s still… Fornicating with irrationality French—and starts to quote instead, her as she thought she would. well. You know. He’s doing all right. A harmonic trance launched into unex- voice too high and chattery to get the I curl. a passing stewardess looks over The girl looks over as she walks plored cosmic dimensions. rich, husky vowels right. The boy inhales Arc my back. and smiles at them. Her teeth are very Eu- into the room, sees him grinning like an her smoke secondhand and smiles. Regard the view, then ropean, and the girl is fascinated. “Votre idiot as he says it, and smiles vaguely. I am from the face of earth’s beauty and the Sometimes when they sleep to- Tug my head towards my chest. première visite?” asks the woman. “C’est he’s at the lab one day with a soul of Heaven’s Divinity. gether she talks in French, whispers Trying to grow into a nautilus shell. une ville magnifique, n’est-ce pas?” couple other grad students, comparing his against the corner of his mouth, a lan- “Oh!” The girl gapes. She’s never numbers with the graphics they’ve come I’m from the heart of a child, who will never guage that’ll always sound to him like sex. The dashboard clocks are lit up achtung orange, like two sets of owl eyes. spoken French to anyone but Americans. up with, when his phone starts to ring. tire He’s got no idea why a girl like this likes “Oh, it’s—I meant, oui, c’est...” He pats his pockets, remembers it’s on his and the soul of an artist him so much, and she doesn’t tell him that Papa turns around and winks, as though I still have armored shins. As though the ghostly, plastic bags “English?” The stewardess nods desk and grabs for it before the ringing which will she learned all her French in high school, that try to fly, as we emerge from the Holland Tunnel, are peacocks suspended above the violet as if to say, of course, don’t worry. “My stops. “Hello?” he says, and mouths to the Never fields of the Veluwe. that the furthest she’s ever been from Bos- mistake. I just said, it’s such a beautiful others, girlfriend. “Honey? What’s up?” Be ton is Illinois. Instead she talks to him city.” She smiles again, and the girl wants “Hi,” she says. She’s sitting on the Extinguished.

24 : susquehanna university apprentice writer : 25 couch in the apartment, looking across he hangs up the phone and puts and this one is the girl’s favorite: she loves scrambles for a compromise. “It’s fine if on display. He picks up a pen to write. For only loves the idea of him. the room at the bookcase. She went out it back on his desk. The dial tone whines walking through the aisles of the rose gar- you miss Boston. I’ve got some vacation— a moment he rolls it between his fingers, “I hate you. I hate this. I’m nev- and bought all these books in French be- in the girl’s ear. den, its bushes lined up like show dogs. I can take a week off. We can visit.” staring at it like he can’t really see it, and er going to know.” His voice thickens. fore they left, ones she’d always wanted he really does mean it, but the The air’s heavy with the smell from pet- “I don’t want to visit.” Her voice then without warning he starts scribbling, “What’s the point if I’m never going to to read, and they stare her down from thing is, he’s never back from work, not als curled like pursed lips, flowers blowing splinters in her throat. “I want to go madly, across the sheets of paper, knock- know?” he demands. “What the fuck do I the shelves. She thumbed through a cou- really. He comes home late, later and later, kisses. home,” she says. “I don’t like being this far ing them to the floor, sending them flying. do if I’m wrong?” ple, started one, left it dog-eared at page and she wants to be angry but he’s not try- on good days the girl, in a pink away. I don’t want to stay here anymore.” His throat is knotted tight. i don’t know. I don’t know any- twenty. She can’t read without the quiet ing to upset her: it’s just that he’s finally sundress, bends down to kiss them back. So what can he do when his girl- Ninety-nine percent accuracy, he thing about Higgs Bosons, don’t know if distracting her. found people who care about the same Every time, she can’t help thinking how friend’s sitting between him and his an- thinks, and remembers his high school he’s right or not. I don’t know what you “Hey,” he says. “Is something things as him. Even when he is home he’s there isn’t a single rose garden in Boston. swers, crying because she misses home? physics teacher saying, “Everything is only do when you try your hardest and it’s not wrong? I’m at work.” thinking about work, counting seconds It makes her feel old, the way she needs He stares at her like he can’t believe it, a theory.” What’s going to be enough? 99.9 enough. I want to tell him that it’s okay: She clutches the receiver in two till he’ll be back there. She hates feeling to defend her city, the way she can’t love like why is this happening to me? His head percent certainty, 99.999? How long till that you don’t always marry the girl you hands, hesitates. “What are you working like she needs his attention and wonders them all equally. She wants to be able to shakes back and forth, faster and faster. he’ll have enough to stop, to leave the rest meet at a house party, that there are bil- on?” if she’s always been this way, if she’s only walk through Geneva and have home be “We have to. Please, the latest to faith? Suddenly he hates it all: these lions of other people and several who he laughs. “Right now? You noticing it because the boy’s got more im- where the heart is—better yet, for her data says ninety-nine percent accuracy—” particles that he can only imagine, that could make him just as happy as she did, wouldn’t be interested.” portant things to think about now. “God, heart to be here. “That’s not good enough?” he might study all his life but will never that nobody gets it right the first time. “No!” He’s surprised by the force I love it here,” he’s always saying. “Isn’t it instead she rests her head on his “It’s not an answer! It’s a prob- see. If everyone dies, he thinks, when their It’s not that worse things happen—every in her voice. “I mean,” she says again, “I amazing?” shoulder, talking to fill the air with a lan- ability! It means we’re nearly there!” body’s too tired to keep rebuilding itself; time, with this, it’s the end of the world— don’t know. Try me.” She wonders how he’d know, guage she understands. He lets her fade “Listen to yourself! It’s never go- if he’ll die someday, suddenly, like his fa- but things will be all right too. He needs “All right,” he says. He glances since he’s never anywhere but the lab. gently into the background. It’s not like ing to be enough of an answer for you!” ther and millions before him; if he can’t to know that. i think, I could talk to up at his friends; one’s frowning like, re- Sometimes she says, “It’s great,” but some- he’s trying ignore her, but nowadays talk- She pushes him back. “Here’s a fucking him right now. I could tell him what’s go- ally? He holds up two fingers: two min- times she doesn’t reply. He doesn’t seem ing about the day-to-day seems like a waste question for you to answer: are you going ing to happen. I could help. utes. “Um. Okay. So they used the LHC… to notice a difference. of syllables. He’s got nothing but physics to come home with me, or is your stupid but I have one rule: I don’t talk sorry, the Large Hadron Collider. The She talks to me sometimes, qui- on his brain, and even as he tries to listen, experiment more important?” Gumamela sa to them. It’s not faith if he knows; it’s ob- proton machine. They used it about three etly—me as she’s always pictured me as he looks down at the girl, she isn’t his “If you really cared, you wouldn’t ligation. He’ll find things to believe in, months ago, and my job is going through deep down. Slowly she’s finding out the girlfriend: she’s a beautiful compilation of make me choose!” He stands up from the Maliit na Paradiso reasons why, and whether they’re atomic all the data it produced. I’m working with difference between glamorous and nec- molecules, her hair ticking his cheek and bench, grabbing his hand away. The girl particles or higher powers isn’t for me to a couple other students to compare the essary faith, and as in love as she is with her hand on his leg. Just like the bench blinks owlishly, and her mascara smudg- (Hibiscus on a little paradise) decide. data CERN recorded with the graphics the loops and curls of Hinduism, she was and the roses and the grass under their es with tears. He tries to pretend like it a few minutes later, the boy stops they’ve made.” raised Christian and it’s that she falls back feet—they all break down into protons, doesn’t bother him. “I’ve spend my whole crying. He’s alone in the apartment, and “Graphics?” on. She pictures God not as a six-armed neutrons, electrons, bosons, quarks— life working for this, and I’m not leaving Eric Fernandez it’s very quiet. He wipes his eyes and feels “Yeah, graphics. Pictures, yeah? warrior, but as an old man in white, some- “Hey!” The girl jabs him in the for anyone, do you get it? Not even you!” Baltimore, MD childish. After a moment, he picks up his Of the collisions.” times looking like Morgan Freeman. side, a little too hard, and he starts. “Are “I’ll leave.” She trembles. “I’ll go. notes off the floor. He thinks, he already “You can’t see those.” She asks the boy if he’s ever be- you listening?” You don’t think I’ll do it.” On the corner of a shanty, believes in enough things he can’t prove. he resists the urge to say, yeah, lieved in God. “No,” says the boy, which is he rubs his side, irritated and “Okay,” he says. “Okay.” He takes a wilted bush rests in a rundown, old pot. Someday he’ll publish a paper on the no shit, and sighs through his teeth. He almost true. “I don’t get the whole ‘believ- kind of surprised. She never notices what a deep breath. “Do it. Go back to Boston.” Every time the rooster calls, fragments of light Higgs Boson, even though he can’t prove doesn’t have to tell people here this; ing without proof ’ thing. It doesn’t make other people are doing when she’s talking, “I don’t… it’s not you. I don’t enter through the window and onto the plant it’s there. The girl won’t read it. Neither they’d already know. “No, but the ma- sense.” but then again, he’s never not listening. want to leave you.” giving it enough energy to splay will most people. His mother will buy a chines record the data, energy produced, That’s the point though, isn’t it? “Of course I am,” he snaps. “The park’s he looks at her and thinks, leav- its leaves reveling copy of the journal it’s in, but won’t ever that kind of thing. We can calculate the You’ve just got to trust in the end. She nice today. You’re feeling really spiritual. ing CERN? This job? This research? That sprouts of red flowers. get past the abstract. I probably couldn’t trajectory for all the—” tries to tell him that and he laughs. I’ll All good things.” is him. He wonders if she’s ever known either. “Trajectories? What does that stick with the things I can prove, thanks. “That’s not what I said!” She that. but now, I watch him working mean?” So she never mentions the con- pushes her arm from around her shoul- “We’ll find you a flight,” he says. and think, every time I love them, just as “They’re the… never mind.” He versations she has sometimes with me, ders. “I said I miss Boston.” “Take some time back home. If you want much—these people looking for reasons prove that these immortal atoms, these takes a slow breath in, out, listening to the late at night after he’s fallen asleep next “What?” to come back after that…” why it all happens, why it’s all here; the particles, stay constant throughout—then hiss of static along the line. He’s doing it to her. She says that she’s lonely here, that “See? You weren’t listening!” He has to say it. He and I already know only real constant there is. Sciences and what does? again. That stupid, stupid way of speak- she wishes the boy understood or even “I heard you. I just don’t know she won’t. religions, the explanations they choose, he thinks of the girl trying to say, ing, picking the words as if from a lineup, just noticed, that she thought she’d love what you mean.” can change, but the people searching for the smallest, the simplest. It’s the way he this but she just wants to be home and is “I mean, I’m tired of living here.” but you can’t ever prove God exists; you just answers are always the same. I think, I . He closes his eyes. He talked to his brother, the way he talked in that normal? God? Nervously, she licks her lips. “I want to go he drives her to the airport on a need to have faith love the things they come up to show why might not have faith, but he needs some- high school, the way he’d finally started i don’t talk back. I look at the boy home.” sunny day and waves goodbye as she passes life goes wrong; I love the way they cling thing to blame, and I’m as good a why as to forget. He’s doing science, he realizes, and the girl asleep next to each other and he tries to laugh. “This is home. through security. It is the last time he will to their truths; and I love watching him any. that the girl’s not going to understand, no wish sometimes I didn’t have to watch. We are home.” see her. write that paper, explaining how he be- “Fuck you,” he says out loud, matter how hard she tries, and he’s sick of “No we’re not!” She stares, The drive home is extraordinarily lieves it all works. You can’t prove things “ , why’d you have to make it so playing dumb. Not here, he thinks. Not stunned and a little sick. “Babe, this is quiet. When he gets back to the apartment fuck you have a reason, he knows, but they have a fucking complicated?” He doesn’t know if now. on a Sunday a few months later only for a few months. You said that, you he spreads his papers across the kitchen place, a purpose, in people who fall in love he’s talking about the particles in an atom “I’ll tell you later,” he tells her they’re sitting on an old bench in Parc La said so.” table, his data and charts lovingly orga- and believe in things they can’t see. or believing in things or loving a girl who firmly. “I have to get back to work.” Grange. Geneva is famous for its parks, “Okay. I did, I probably did. ” He nized, his ninety-nine percent accuracy

26 : susquehanna university apprentice writer : 27 never really bothered me. It fit in with how couch, just staring at the wall ahead of you. get rid of them. I wish I had picked up some the paragraphs I devoted to you there said later what inspired him when he danced and I had been brought up, a family with a clear It was unadorned and I never knew what you of M.’s cleaning habits before we separated. more to you than anything I had ever spoken. he smiled, touching my face with his strong predilection for memories and a sacred re- were looking at or for. I tried to buy you a He had learned from his mother who loved Your fictional self pays more attention to me hands: maybe you, maybe everyone. spect for the objects they inhabited. Yet when set of pastels and expensive colored pencils to nothing more than to vacuum her days away. than your real one does, you told me. We had I woke up in the middle of the night feeling as inspire you while I was gone, but you refused She would have dropped dead if she knew the our last real fight then, and I realized how far “They didn’t notice the cat was missing until if I couldn’t breathe, I knew something had to and continued to use the bent and inky pens kind of place I maintained. Not that it mat- I had let you go in loving me. You kept whis- the next morning and began right away to make Untitled change. I was having nightly dreams that the that were your medium of choice. tered much, she never really liked me. As far pering that I was too busy with myself to let posters for his safe return. The children were mess of my apartment was going to rise up and as she was concerned, I was slowly sucking her our relationship grow. I asked you to leave distraught and kept asking their mother if they Gabriella Costa overtake me, leaving the investigators to find “The family found the cat camped outside son away from her. She wasn’t a particularly soon after. would ever find him.” Wood-Ridge, NJ my body lifeless and suffocated under a mass their door. He was a little kitten at the time, warm person, but she wanted nothing less The portraits are the last thing I ever of junk. The walls of my apartment started deceivingly docile. They immediately took him than to have her children grow up and leave watched you draw. After our fight you sat I felt another attack coming on with your to close in on me and I would hears screams in, mistaking him for a tame-able thing. But her. Her attic was a testament to this, hold- down on my couch and started sketching. I pictures in my hand so I quickly put them coming from inside. the cat was born in the wild and wanted to be ing boxes of the cards M. and his brother had just stared at you, not sure what to make of down. My throat felt like it was closing up self-sufficient.” given her for Christmas and Easter as well as the situation in front of me. When I raised and my locket felt tight so I took it off and “The woman cried, hearing of her cat’s sick- all their little baby outfits, kindergarten draw- my eyebrows in judgment you told me good, held that in my curled fingers instead. The “The cat had left them. His sickness was ness. She knew there was no way to explain M. and I were together for six years. Our ings, honor roll certificates, Halloween cos- now stay like that. When you were done you doctors told me that my symptoms were akin gone, they had healed it. The family was sitting to the animal why he felt as awful as he did, relationship was a working one at its core. M. tumes, and their lost teeth. got up and handed me four papers, my face to someone having an allergic reaction. Do in their living room the night the cat slipped why he was losing weight and hair. She had no had met me after I had had some writing al- After she passed away, I went with M. to from different angles. To remember me by, you have a cat living with you? No, only the out. He never looked back.” choice but to pay the fees for the medicine.” ready published and he respected my work. help him go through her things. Unlike M.’s you said. I know you find your love not in one in my stories. You and I never cohabited as well as M. and I family, mine is no stranger to death. I think people but in what they leave behind. These You were living with me when I penned The panic attacks had begun several The day that I went through all of my did. He knew how to stay out of my way when that in your years of knowing me I attended will be more useful to you than I am now: I that story, the one that thrust me into the months after M. and I had broken up. Our things was quiet, but the stillness was more I was writing and didn’t ask to enter into my enough funerals that counting needed both am done being your inspiration. The papers spotlight. My first collection centered around relationship had died a few years in and I was peaceful than somber. It was only slightly thoughts and conversation. It was understood hands. When M. found his mother’s boxes still have those small circular wrinkles that I it, the narrative of a family who gives up ev- the one it fell to to put an end to it. Truth- chilly outside, enough that I wore just a sweat- that I didn’t want to talk or go out and barely in the attic, he decided immediately to throw can only assume now are your tears. erything to save a cat only to have it run away. fully, I had decided I was tired some time be- er to keep the window cracked open, catching wanted to eat. He wouldn’t wait up for me be- their contents out. It pained me to see all It was the favorite of M.’s brother. He liked fore I cut him off. The realization was painful the autumn breezes. I flipped over all the fore going to bed, but instead would leave out the prized possessions of one person being “The cat grew up with the family and his life to sit down with me and talk about the work. although not all that surprising to me, and I pictures frames that were scatted around my a simple cup of coffee, black, for me to take. deemed useless by another as if in dying her became a product of their love. They had cre- The cat’s selfish, the brother maintained. He guess you as well. Love only hurts when it is apartment. My mother would do the same; I kept our worlds pretty separate and I judgment was invalidated. But I take after ated him and would go on to save him. It was feeds himself while everyone else starves. He unreciprocated and I really pulled the rug out she didn’t want the faces inside to see her knew that he didn’t like it, just as you didn’t. my grandfather. When his wife died, he held assumed then that he loved them back.” is using the family’s love and letting them suf- from under M.’s feet. That is to say, the two of throwing out any of their possessions. There The dark mental place I entered to write was onto everything she owned. He began to fer. Well what would you do in his situation? us didn’t leave very amiably and had never met was a surprising amount of pictures of M. and something I wanted all to myself which he drown himself in memories of her and would I never wrote about M. the way I wrote I don’t know, but I’m sure it’s not that. I think to divide up all the possessions we had shared me; I can’t remember us taking that many. I quickly learned. Still I think he may have have continued to do so had my mother not about you. He did inspire much of what I did, we all use each other and leave when there is during our years together. slipped these out from under their glass to be loved me more for it; I became an unattain- been sent in to pull him out. Together they and I based many of my characters off of his nothing left for us. No, I think we are sup- The physical separation of breaking up regulated to one of the lower drawers of my able object to him. He never realized I was worked to find a middle ground between get- actions. Studying him opened up to me the posed to help each other equally grow. Ego is always the worst part. Divvying up your dresser. perfectly content to stay that way, that I had ting rid of everything and hoarding it all close. sight of a whole new spectrum of emotions. rules us all and we only want to feed ourselves. things is the final rip it takes to split two lives I had filled two garbage bags full of scraps let him in as far as he was ever going to go. Many of my grandmother’s things were He was a product of as well as an exercise in Love isn’t a commodity. I have to disagree away from each other at the seams, and I was from my apartment before I found your You, on the other hand, craved my con- passed onto the grandchildren, my sister and rejection and quiet love. I wasn’t worried with you there. glad that I didn’t have to go through that with sketches under one of the drawers in my desk. stant attention. Self-deprecating and whin- I as well as a younger cousin. That necklace I about him discovering he was my secret muse, M. I found myself awfully invested in the col- I had pulled it out to see what I could skim ing you would try to get me to talk during the used to wear was hers, the blue one with the an object I toted around for my craft’s sake. “Feeling better, the cat wondered what his lection he had left behind. They had become from the layers of papers contained within. large silences that overtook the room while I diamonds. It was missing a couple of stones As far as I know, he never picked up anything next move was. Staying at the house had be- constants in my life and were easily incorpo- Smashed up against the wooden back were wrote. At first the ploy would often work and from the middle pendant, making it look like I wrote. gun to tire him and he didn’t like being pinched, rated into the other objects found scattered the drawings, acting almost as wallpaper for I would stop to collect the crumpled artwork the costume jewelry everyone maintained it The only one of M.’s family who read my prodded, and pulled by all the children. He de- around my apartment, each kept for the story the desk’s innards. I could see the black and you threw my way. I knew I was feeding your was. But I believed in its validity and wore work, or at least admitted to it, was his young- cided that his time there was done.” they told to me and the way they made me red that slashed across the pages, bleeding vanity, but I wanted to keep your presence it until I inherited another object of hers, a er brother. He was a lovely boy who had a feel. through to the back. The outlines of shapes in my apartment. I believed art would beget simple silver locket. It was you who would habit of creating scandal wherever he went. That was the second and last time you let M. had tried to convince me to organize began to take form as I unfolded the papers art. I hadn’t decided just yet that I was con- tease me about putting your face inside it, but When I was first introduced to him, he was me see you cry—when you gave me the pic- my apartment multiple times. Really the mess and smoothed out the creases they had gar- tent being alone either. It was only after I had I have always left it empty. dating a quite talented dancer. It was more tures. For all your emotional angst, you left of my place was the main reason he never of- nered from their time inside the desk. There completed my first collection that your antics upsetting to M.’s mother that he was Afri- the crying up to me. I wonder if you remem- ficially moved in with me like you did. M. were four in total, all variations of the same began to truly grate upon my nerves and I “The children ate cereal every night, but they can American than that he was a man. The ber the many times you found me balled up on was a meticulously clean person. He barely face. thought of changing the locks on my door. didn’t mind. The cat needed to be cared for and two of us forged a strong friendship that way, the floor my eyes closed and cheeks streaked let me enter his apartment, barring the tor- You had drawn them in this apartment that is where the money went.” both hated by her. M. and I were invited to with salty liquid. I did it enough for the both nado he knew would wrinkle the neatness he while we were in college. More specifically I “It was strange for the boy to see the hair still a few of his performances and I made us go of us, reveling in the attention and catharsis had ironed out. This insult was a blessing in was in college and you were trying to figure coating the pillow where the cat loved to sleep. It was after my first collection was pub- to every one we were free for. The spark in of the tears and have never been able to deal disguise towards the end and left me with a things out. Always toying with the idea of That his final relic and the boy didn’t know lished that we really began to fall apart, you his eyes that I had always loved during our with people breaking down in front of me. M. whole new wardrobe and an extensive compi- going to art school, you were that reformed whether or not he should clean it off or keep it and I. You never forgave me for that story I conversations consumed his whole body on seemed to know this and I only saw him cry lation of books and records. All you left be- bad boy whose sad eyes intrigued me. I gave as a memory.” wrote about you, the one that everyone else stage; he gracefully made the music his own, once. He had come to me with a picture of hind for me was a handful of broken pens and you a key to my place and I would often come loved. I couldn’t understand why, you feeling his muscles telling a story and his face bar- the two of us, small enough to fit in my locket. ink stains on my couch. home from school and find you sitting on my As I stared at the pages, I knew I couldn’t used. You cried when you read it, saying that ing emotions that supported it. I asked him I pushed it away, telling him I couldn’t do it. Before the attacks started, all my collecting

28 : susquehanna university apprentice writer : 29 hill, even for the shortest visit, it’s summit seventeen year-old, either. Even going down He nodded and folded up our smiling show, he seemed sad with the fact that M. and suddenly shot up to Everest proportions. the hill couldn’t save me from the same fate faces, stopping to throw them into the waste- “The family wasn’t sure whether the cat had I were no longer together as well as with the Some people are just better suited for low as Breece. basket as he walked out of the room. When I run away, choosing to leave them, or if he had reason why. I love you, he told me as I left, ground, I justified for myself. Some people If he recognized me, Breece didn’t let on. peered out from around the door frame, I saw accidentally stepped out and became lost. They giving me a slight smile. But I could see pity don’t need to sit at the top of the world with He stared at a TV propped up above the him sitting on the floor, his eyes wet. hoped it was the latter. They told themselves it clouding his icy eyes. their noses up, knowing that they are the counter, replaying the Kennedy assassina- M. looked slapped. You let people love you wa s.” Look Out, Jack highest beings in the state of New Hamp- tion. A second before the shot fired, Breece and you allow them to feel like one day they “It’s a kitten! the children exclaimed. Let’s Alaina Demopoulos shire. True courageous people belong in the whispered quietly to himself, “Look behind will be loved back. They give you parts of Recently I went to see the dancer again keep him forever. Oh, what shall we name Stratham, NH cities, below sea level and constantly facing you Jack.” For a moment his face lit up, an- themselves for you to fashion into something even though he and M.’s brother are no longer him?” the threat of engulfment by tidal wave. ticipating that he himself saved JFK and you can use. No, you just take whatever you together. His performance was just as breath- “So now you’re the only one left,” I heard therefore the world. But as the screen cut to want. Then you cut them loose when you taking as the first time I had witnessed it. Yet I put your sketches into my drawer, the Simmons women always decide to go in repeatedly, from the old women who whis- his motorcade rolling back down a Dallas can no longer find use for them, when they something had changed, and I wasn’t sure if it same one holding the pictures of M. and I. I the middle of July. My oldest sister Elizabeth pered about me, like they expected a full street, Breece lowered his head solemnly. are spent. You want only their memories, not was he or I who was different. It could have had always assumed that the cat didn’t feel re- wrapped Daddy’s Ford around a tree one confession of the Kennedy-esque conspiracy If I didn’t get down the hill fast, I’d be shot their presence. Tell me the truth, did you ever been both. When I talked to him after the gret. But my certainty is slipping away. scorching night in 1986 and was buried the theory I just pulled off. No, I wasn’t here too. I still had more than forty-five minutes love me as much as you love yourself? next week in 104-degree heat plus humid- to steal my sisters’ assets; most of it was my to wait. Everything hit me at the same time. mother’s gaudy costume jewelry anyway. Yes, My tongue badly burnt from some terrible I’d prefer to forget. my face caws, excited ity; that could have been a fluke. But then I would sell the house and no, I wasn’t sorry. coffee an old churchwoman had made me af- like a raven on a hot stove. Isabelle decided to succumb to her cancer on the hottest day of the year. I say no coinci- I would be, though, if I didn’t get off the ter the funeral service, suddenly felt far too mountain soon. large for my mouth. The loud tourist child II. Tremors I want to tell him that love doesn’t trick. dence. It makes sense to me. We’re smart, us Simmons women. If we have to go through I packed my belongings and headed to- slammed his fists down on his sister’s hand Following Pauline wards the station. I had more than an hour and made her yelp. That was the winter My dreams sweat into his bed sheets. the inconvenience of dying, the least you can until my train of urban salvation arrived, “Look out, Jack.” A Quartet based on Louise when body grew a new geometry— He gathers them and drowns them in lakewa- do is sweat through a suit for a few hours at but I couldn’t stay at the old house with New customers walked in. The bell jan- collarbones surfaces like ter. a funeral. white doily curtains and filled with my sis- gled louder and louder with each one. A Erdrich’s “Tracks” flying fish. Or it was like I’m the last one left, and that’s why they ter’s affinity for faux-porcelain angel statues. disgustingly devoted high school couple standing by the ocean, watching say I smiled through the entire thing. That Across from the tracks was Breece’s Lunch stared into each other’s eyes far too intensely the tide of your skin pull IV. Numb would be wrong. When Elizabeth died my Stop. I decided to mull there. On the Civil for their ages. The smell of eggs—poached, Peter LaBerge out a secede. grin was one of a 10 year-old believing her- War Memorial Bench outside sat an old man scrambled, sunnyside, however you want the Stamford, CT His screams ripen self to be the proverbial pillar of strength. and his equally old dog. He tipped his hat to Breece will make ‘em—stank itself deep into We saw the world as it was: hollow, the apple trees. It seemed smart to me. If Elizabeth could me. I smiled politely back. The dog stared the depths of my sinuses. and cylindrical. Like an be at one moment alive and college-bound me in the face. I thought dogs were supposed “Turn around, Jack.” I. Recollection empty stomach. We ate prayer Tonight, the moon is swathed and bringing Kevin O’Brian to senior prom to avert eye contact with humans as a sign I wanted John F. Kennedy to turn around, verses straight from the book. in white Easter decoration. and the next smashed and battered on a of submission. Sparky didn’t. I tried to soft- if he only turned around Breece would shut My legs rely on memory. paved suburban road, one needed to be truly en and reached over to pet him. He darted up and the tourists would go back to Cana- Except it is firm and level Our skin was tough, swallowed by shivers. I have clipped its wings, and I see it strong. I couldn’t waste her funeral crying away from me and moved closer to the man. da. Eggs would smell beautiful and there’d when my legs are dirtied A bitter dough, unbaked and suppressed, wild against my outstretched at my misfortune; I couldn’t show anyone I Smart dog. be no war, no poverty, just prosperity and by dirt from the path, falling. hand. was like her. Only when I went home, safe and alone in my Daddy’s thinking chair with I smiled again, cordially, and then entered well-endowed secretaries and wives who the luncheonette. A bell hanging from the turned the other cheek to them. But the Dal- wwhich doesn’t feel fresh below That was the winter Stinks of saltwater begin to wet the family asleep upstairs could I properly doorknob jingled faintly. People scattered las scene kept rewinding, and always ended my feet—blistered, knotted, I dreamed of empty churches, the old man’s shoulder blades. mourn. around at different tables. Old timers in the same way. Somehow, without a doubt, bruised a darker black with guilt. steeples shooting skyward like bullets. But when it happened to Isabelle, only flannel rolled up their sleeves at the prospect JFK would end up shot in the back of the His face is a flesh turned west out of sheer exhaustion did I remain stoic. of a big-boy omelet while tourists in for ski head. I realized then that even if I boarded I recall a room I knew well. wound into my rosary beads. I hadn’t seen her since Christmas, but I flew season smiled as their perfect children took the train to the city, the hill would never go Coins clink and playing cards, III. Submerged to New Hampshire and rented the church. I their first bite of whipped cream and straw- away. It would always be there and distant fraying at their waxy edges, lap Eyes have never been this blue- made the tuna sandwiches and ordered the berry filled French toast. I took a seat at the family members would keep on dying. More and candlelight. A man across Like a paper crane hovering veined and brackish. flower arraignments. I kept my motor run- counter. and more funerals would pile up in front of the table rattles like a firefly at the edge of sight, I am the girl: ning until my sisterly duties were completely Breece was at the stove, frying eggs. I re- me, no matter how far away I moved. suffocating in a jar. ephemeral, familiar. My dreams swim freely finished, but glazed over any semblance of membered him from the nights I’d spent in And as I made my discovery everyone in from his bed sheets. humanity prematurely out of unanticipated the restaurant in high school, thinking it Breece’s turned to stare. The tourist family There is a woman, eyes sewn The sun is brimming with lemons. fatigue. This sparked the old women of the the pinnacle of coolness to drink coffee and and the real men looked up from their pre- open, so she never blink It’s sweet against our faces, gnashed Some springs, apples town to whisper I was happy at my sister’s smoke cigarettes with Nancy Sheffield. Back viously important breakfasts. Breece and without vulnerability. with a violent sort of love: tongues, bloom too soon. passing. Maybe I was. I don’t remember. I in those days, Breece seemed eternally fifty, his cooking eggs judged me. People on the I feel her eyes drinking me. knotted, intertwined like a braid. went back to my hotel room and slept twelve wearing real black-and-red flannel shirts and street, people on the hill, everyone in New His scream ripen hours. carrying an extra fifteen pounds with grand- Hampshire stopped to watch my next move. She snaps me, my being like a sinking He plays my teeth with his tongue like Lakota the apple trees. I used to rule this town, back when I pa-like appeal. Now he still wore the same JFK turned his head, only slightly, like my lifeboat across a Chippewa lake. drums. yearned to get off the hill. Before I descended shirt, but his eyes hinted that more than his life could rival anything he ever accom- The fruit is quick to judge and became an outsider, the household name noticeable recent weight gain sagged him plished. The dog outside, too, kept looking My legs rely on memory, but sometimes The old man that grips that the frost has finished. of “whatever happened to that girl?” When I thought again of ever climbing back up the down. I stared at myself in a Heineken mir- at me with those unafraid eyes. Only the old ror hanging on the wall. I wasn’t the same man didn’t. I think he had fallen asleep. 30 : susquehanna university apprentice writer : 31 like boys a little too much to be able to con- in the middle of tents, our mothers’ screech- the most worrisome child we had ever seen. of cereal. Karen had to remind her about a sci- ber when we held hands and spun in tight centrate on the important things. “An all-girl ing voices telling us to appreciate, to worship Lily did the boy more good than he did her, she ence test on molecular bonding. She fell asleep circles. When we promised we would always school,” Karen said, “would get boring after a them. In four days I gained the complete trust calmed him down a bit. Just enough to see Lily during the test and wouldn’t wake up. Then the be friends. We spun and scratched each oth- while.” of every single adult. “See Audrey, she’s such a was a waste of time and leave her. I saw him principal noticed how thin she was getting to er’s wrists raw to twirl faster. A pocket full of Admission “How many lesbians do you suppose good child – she takes good of her parents, so holding hands with a British foreign exchange be – so thin, fading into air. The science teach- posy... or a pocket full of good deeds we could are there?” Grace grinned wickedly. young, so much talent, so much opportunity.” student the next week. “Hey Lils,” I IMed her, er didn’t let her retake the test. Her mother pull out when negotiating with a stubborn What a faux pas. “Grace,” I admon- They told me everything. Their ancestors were “u dated a fruit.” called me again but I unplugged the phone af- teacher. It’s not our fault they were incompe- Ashley Zhou ished, “we’re still in school.” the Incas, dominators of the Americas at one “Rly? He did always stare at that kid ter a while. No more help for you, Lily. In her tent. It’s not our fault they favored us over the Basking Ridge, NJ “Like the teachers would care.” Her point and that it was always their dream: to with the glasses a lot.” cock fight, she had a blind left eye and a freshly pool of average students. Ashes, ashes... unlike smile didn’t waver. “They adore us.” have someone in the family return that honor Wrong person, I thought. “Ya.” And injured leg. Her parents circled high overhead. us, our lives; we never dimmed, never faded. and the question of distance sur- to their country. Centuries and centuries of it, then signed off, and studied for a few hours. The fight would not be fair. Still, she gambled We plodded along and kept on trudging until Gracey, Gracey, Gracey – so admi- faced. Malleable Lily wanted to be far away they explained, breeding to attain only the pur- Lily’s mother called me a machine, in praise, her last eye and attacked furiously. Her grades someone got trapped in the mud. And then we rable and kind and respected. Revered. You from home to achieve independence, as did est Peruvian blood and they still had the primi- of course. Asked me if I ever slept. Wondered soared. Her parents were thrilled. But I didn’t left them. Ashes, ashes of each other’s cremated thought it was your place to bring that first Karen, who wanted to see the world. Her post- tive greed to gain power and status over others. why I never acquired rings under my eyes like say this game was even. She came into school bodies that fell like snow and we caught with form in, a form we could see you were anxious cards cluttered our mailboxes in the summer We weren’t the only gifted ones; they had been everyone else did. And she wanted to know if with bags under her eyes and crescent moons our tongues. We all fall down! to fill out before us, before even your sister be- – Bermuda, Japan, Zimbabwe – I threw them special in their homes as well. A first place for Lily was all right. Lily was fine – better than dug into her face, like fingernails. I flaunted Fall down Lily. cause you didn’t think she was smart enough to all out. And pretended not to see the obvious arithmetic in the neighborhood here, articles she’d ever be again. my perfect grades in front of her, asking why We three attended her funeral with go there. hurt on her face when I told her. Far away and printed in the newspaper there. Gold trophies but she got a C- on her math test hers were fluctuating so dramatically. I sat on elegance. We wore matching black dresses – you were wrong on both accounts. warm climates were nice but I preferred not to everywhere, dug up by the father-miners in the and although she wouldn’t tell me it at first, the opposite side of the classroom on testing dresses we had bought together in the ninth I knew. It was my position to saunter in with stray too far – all the Ivy Leagues were on the community to make just for them. Then they her mother called me and asked why on earth days. I stopped smiling in front of her and she grade. Lily wore the other in her casket of ash. the file of applications, in my manila envelope. east coast anyway – in order to stay rooted to met each other and had to be the best mother this would happen. I asked Lily. “I had a loud, stopped smiling. A fight is never easy with an Her parents had decided on oak, strong and You should have been peering over my shoul- my family. A family with important connec- as well. But motherhood turned on them when aggravating song stuck in my head the entire impossible opponent. That opponent was me. sturdy, but I cried out that no, no, she should der as I sifted through my essays and finally tions and relatives at corporations that offered summer flew into fall, and they pecked each test,” she said. Her mother sent her to my house Lily took the chance. Then she had nothing. have only the best. Only the finest for our Lily. threw the stack down on the table for you to prestigious internships. other’s eyes out. And then they pecked at their to study together before the next test. Study- ring around the rosy…I remem- Only the wood that had a name that pore over like it held the location of the Holy Thinking about the future already. weary nestlings, pecked at them too. therapy, not retail-therapy. Lily bounced in Grail. Perhaps it was a treasure of sorts, lying That’s what we said in third and fourth grade They weren’t songbirds and night- and instead of working, spun me a story about there so magnificently white against the faded when we didn’t even know of each other’s exis- ingales, they were vultures who finally got to a delightful little spider. The spider had built a grains of the cafeteria table; after all, hadn’t tence. And that’s what we said in seventh grade Lily’s drying carcass. Lily liked to think she web under a myriad of criss-crossing webs that our mothers told us that “education was the when the rungs of the ladder were placed, su- was strong. I saw the way she walked with her belonged to other spiders. After every catch best legacy they could give us?” Hadn’t they per-glued, and filed down so that anyone could unimpressive chest puffed and her hips sway- the others made, the carcass of the insect – the promised to cut our inheritance money by at lose their grip so easily. We smiled at our new ing, her furtive glances to check if anyone was filth – would drop onto the little spider’s web. least one quarter in order to pay for school friends and thought of how we were going to looking. She liked to use big words that weren’t The waste piled and piled up so that the web expenses? Your sister was the rightful one to demolish their quarter’s averages. X, y and z; in our SAT vocabulary books and waste after- was overwhelmed with weight and collapsed. stand on the valedictorian’s podium. Not that if x equals my friends and y is the number of noons reading about castles in the air, sphinx- “Oh,” she added, “the webs were atop a fast- you did. No, you were too busy battling off hours I waste their time chatting about frivo- es, happily-ever-afters. Grace read about the moving river. And there were jagged rocks.” Karen to notice me, slipping by quietly behind lous things, find z. Figure out the days I have 1917 Russian Revolution. Karen read the sci- i asked, “What happened next?” your back and mounting the platform to look to count before they discover that they actually ence textbook. And then Lily – Lily watch- She said, “It died.” upon everyone and have them honor me. To have to study. ing interviews of her favorite bands instead of She was clawing upwards at the time, see the light that bounced off the stage lights “Growing up too fast, too fast,” our writing her essays. I don’t remember how she trying to shake the unmovable rungs of the lad- and reflected in their eyes, eyes so full of won- mothers said. got to be in our circle. Her body slumped after der. She wanted to perfect everything: her pa- der and amazement. Your sister knew the feel- and also told us to grow up faster. every test returned; the teacher always threw a pers, her handwriting, her smile. Her face. Too ing. She knew the tingle of power that ran up it wasn’t just our game – it was theirs glance at her paper, wondering why her grades fat, too round, she complained to me. “When I her fingers when everyone applauded, heard too. They were all immigrants, all people who were dropping if she hung out with us. make enough money, I’ll get a face transplant.” sighs the teachers emitted as she finished her had grown up with Survival of the Fittest as lily was my best friend. I nodded. “Is that your number-one goal?” Lily speech, felt the graduating class clapping and their Qur’an and moved to find a more suit- Friends forever since the beginning said it was. Lily said she would be best at every- clapping, the vibrations tunneling to the soles able nest to raise their chicks. Never thought of seventh grade, from the start of the first year thing, would peel off a blue ribbon and stick of her feet. She was that infallible first place, they’d have so much competition for territory; we knew each other. She trusted me quickly; it on her chest. She burned through the ranks: the grand shadow you always lived in. She was in their homeland, everyone lived off the mag- a new school, new faces, relieved to meet a fourth to third, second but never first. That po- a golden statue. You never stood a chance. gots that grew underneath their fingernails. friendly body to welcome her. We talked about sition had already been filled. I asked about her did you know Cornell uses the font They came in different ways and liked to tell everything: boys, school, grades, boys. Grades. grades after we received our midterms back; I Myriad Condensed Web for their heading? of the hardships they had to endure in order to Always trying to figure out where we stood had already calculated my average in my head. They do. And you would have known, too, cross into a safer country, then here, to Amer- compared to the rest of the nation’s children, She stared at me and wrinkled her nose. “Bet- had you not brought in your application first. ica. The broiling heat as they traveled along taking IQ tests that were meant for adults. Our ter luck next time,” I said. Moravian. Pathetic. the equator, up filthy Mexico – where those scores were atrocious but she was the only one “Since when is there a next time?” yet we scoured those pages, touch- Mayans had lived – and evading the eyes of who knew. Boys were a conflicting topic– she and she kept slipping to the edge, ing them until the corners curled up from the the border patrol. When we were younger, all loved them, I really didn’t care. She dated a pee- never enough to fall off a rung entirely, but sweat of our fingers. Lily asked me, “What do of us – all four families – packed our bags and vish boy earlier in the year; Karen called them enough to scare her into spending another all- Kendall Fawcett Scotch Plains, NJ you think of Wellesley?” Odd – she always did went on a road trip to the mountains. A fire the perfect contrast. Perpetually laid back and nighter with a six-pack of coke and handfuls

32 : susquehanna university apprentice writer : 33 described how she and her work charred to led her to the nearest bathroom, then observed build its web over a shallow creek. One day, a he told me that I was allergic. is difficult to make. On icy nights in January, crisp, into delicate ashes fluttering in the wind. warily as Grace fiddled with the faucets. Her foot was wading through the creek and it col- he said it fondly, I think, as if he it’s so hard to love the cold. When goose- Her parents wouldn’t have her cremated so I mother said, “Grace, what’s wrong with you?” lapsed the entire web, spider and all, into the thought me pleasantly quirky for trying to bumps rise on your skin like spider bites convinced them to give their daughter some- Grace stood there silently. Her mother slapped water. breathe life in when I knew it might make from every icy nip of the air, how can you thing better than she really deserved. What her arm and she didn’t flinch. Then shook her can you guess what happens next? Love All me sneeze. So I smiled and kept walking. On feel affection for the chill? Speak it: I love kind of child would demand so much atten- shoulder. Then bent Grace’s arm in the most and off the sidewalk, mostly in agreement. the cold. Let it flood your mouth, pure and tion even after death? The parents listened to awkward position and curled her fingers into Hayley Kolding But all the same, I was sad to hear my love sharp like ice water. The love, the cold—they me, naturally, and had the casket lined with the a tight fist. Grace just stood there for hours, Canton, CT spoken like a symptom. belong there; they are part of you. Speak the most expensive silk from India. Grace brought never moving. Her mom called me after three, Lungs We were walking on a spring day. Snow as a child of tree bark and pollen word, and you will allow yourself to mean it. her a book – Raise the Red Lantern – to take not knowing what to do. “I don’t want her to Nicole Achempong was still melting in dirty piles, like laundry in the wind, I don’t think that love should That’s the power of love. Of course heaped up by the side of the road, and a be treated with Benadryl. And yet so many all words are meant to persuade an audi- to heaven. Karen placed a fountain pen beside be Lily,” she cried. “What’s happening to you Sharon, MA her body. “For our writer,” she said. I touched girls?” mineral taste soaked the air. I breathed and fear the word that I find as honest as breath. ence—journalists stack them into truths as two fingers to my lips, then to Lily’s fore- don’t think you’re invincible, Karen. was giddy. It was one of those days when I Hesitant partners balk at it; relationships bitter and undeniable as black morning cof- head. I didn’t bring an item. When Karen and Do as I do: learn from other peoples’ mistakes. The priest is smoking a Parliament Light was looking—really looking—at everything end when “I love you” is met with only a ner- fee; advertisers sing them like siren songs to Grace went to console the deceased’s parents, I If you’ve been paying attention to Lily and in the church parking lot, sunken cheeks around me: cracks in the sidewalk, ants vous “thanks”. The term for pure affection mesmerized couch potatoes. But love’s pow- looked at her face again. Her cold, white, dead Grace as intently as you focus in class, there’s a sinking deeper as he drags in the smoke, whirring quietly in the dirt, holey leaves has been counted as the worst of the four- er works on more than just the audience; face, spruced up as if she were attending a par- lot to learn. I hope you’re ready, because you’re one hand squeezing on the cigarette’s lean praying to the air. Everything. The wonder letter words. But for all the advice columns when spoken, it has the power to affect us, ty. You’d never think she was the type to hang next. body, of it made it hard to walk in a straight line. warning me not to use “the l-word” until I the rhetors ourselves. That single drawn out herself, except for the bruises the undertakers do you want to know a secret, the other steadying a crucifix i had tried to explain it, this giddi- mean it, I can’t think of any reason to wait. syllable—love—provides a time frame to re- couldn’t hide under all that makeup. Lily never Grace? I suppose I could tell you, since you’re that swings against his chest. ness that sung me straight off the sidewalk. love—it’s the only way to describe flect: on the pulse in the fingertips that trace wore makeup; she was too lackadaisical even incapable of speaking. Did your psychiatrist I am thinking of my mother’s hands He’d asked about it; he wanted to know what fills me when grass cushions my foot- letters on our backs, on the swaying of grass to disguise her blemishes. Better to just rid say that was permanent? pointing at the Sunday paper’s headline: what music I heard as I swayed and smiled. I falls, when peep frogs chirp at night. It’s the like the hairs on our heads. It lends a second of them entirely. The mourners cried because i killed Lily. No religion is the fastest growing looked down at my shoes, not waterproof, in only word I have for when strangers sneeze for contemplation of the rocks, cold as our when they looked at her, they saw memories. i made you catatonic. religion in America. I am thinking a puddle, and told him that I wanted to soak in the supermarket and I say, “Bless you,” feet are, sharing waters of their streambed, When I looked, her remains were pockmarked my, my, isn’t this game fun? If you of tobacco-scented pews, and how in all this life flowing around me. I told him because I’ve been reminded that they, too, and of our lungs, above water, filling with with mistakes. hadn’t lost your mind, you could run off and the threadbare prayer cushions that I loved it all: sunlight, ants, children. breathe and live and sneeze. Love—just the air that thousands of others have breathed. The school buzzed with the news of warn Karen that the big, scary Audrey-monster still hold the indents of God-fearing knees, The woody earnestness of trees. simple, joyous acknowledgment that exis- With that one word, we can come to realize her death. Psychiatrists began to flit around was coming to get her. Scamper to Karen like hold them even when no one is there, That when I loved it so much, life tence is shared. that life is no allergen; it is our oxygen. To like they owned the hallways. Suddenly every- she was your mommy and tell her that I was hold them when the air is heavy overwhelmed me. Sometimes that acknowledgement love it is only natural. one had a symptom of impending suicide. Our scaring you again, to make me stop. Have you and the church has no lungs. principal was so afraid of a lawsuit he forgot ever known anyone who could tell me what to to pay attention to his students. “She seemed do? It’s really too bad our parents aren’t playing like such a nice girl,” everyone said. Such a nice too. Then their wings would be caught in my girl, even when she was buried six feet under crosshairs as well. and couldn’t smile or walk or talk or breathe. I you know, I’m quite disappointed Sparse wanted to scream at them. Well, what did you that you aren’t in the game anymore, Grace. expect? You were so lovely sometimes – you had your Stephanie Gouo She wasn’t the last to go. I made sure brilliant moments here and there, scattered San Diego, CA of that. Gracey was too confident. But she was about. Karen isn’t so clever, not in the way you stronger. After watchingL ily get lowered into were. All she does is exhume information from Last summer, I knelt by the riverbank To carve sparse verse the earth, though, she left us too. We saw her in that retentive mind of hers and plug it into the the halls still, by her locker, in the cafeteria at situation. No creativity at all. Her ideas are Across the pale arteries the table where she had thrown down the first borrowed, yours were original. Of leaves. As I watched them flow downstream form. Karen and I brushed past her everyday. it’s such a shame none of those Ivy Karen even called “hi!” to her, but she didn’t Leagues want a girl who can barely drag herself I wondered call “hi” back. Her sister didn’t come home to perform the most primal functions. I don’t If I used the right adjectives. Unlike me, you from college one weekend. Their mother called remember, can you even still move? Last time and told me she had an exam approaching but I hung up the phone on your mom, she was Do not find the floundered fluff of pound bread they were embarrassed. My mother asked why complaining of how you were stiff as a corpse Fragrant. A leaf I never went over to Grace’s anymore. I didn’t on your bed. Remember when we used to fight answer her. That silence I had borrowed from over which college we would attend? Do you Or two has made its way to Grace herself, now that all she did was shuffle know what happens now? A Harvard and a The meandering creek just beyond along in the corridors, trailing a finger along Yale are out there, pulling every string they can the wall. She always had to be touching some- to get me. To have me chose them instead of Your front porch. Perhaps, though, thing. Once she streaked through wet paint the other, to have Audrey go to them and carry You’ve already read them and when she finally noticed, could only stare with her prestige. They’re fighting for me. blankly at her blue fingertips as if unable to Let me tell you a story about a little spider. And have been quietly humoring me decide what to do with them. A shrink gently This undeveloped insect had enough idiocy to Ever since. Jennifer Wu Livingston, NJ

34 : susquehanna university apprentice writer : 35 The pet shop’s previous owner died at in headlights. Wide eyes and apple cheeks and curling I guess not. thirty-nine of a coronary when the boy was The man scrubbed his chin. Tilted his wisps of hair. His skin went cold. The boy’s voice was raw and too quiet. still a child. The old lady dressed him in a tie head. Squinted. Maybe he was thinking. What? The man too aware of his customers. The and jacket and took him to the wake. Stood But probably not. The snake. She pulled at his sleeve again. boy could see them watching. Like they Color behind him while he looked in the casket. Then the man was heaving himself back The corn snake shifted her coils slightly. would watch a mugging and never look over Emmie Atwood The face was pale and gummy. He reached to the counter. Excess flesh swaying as he I don’t know what you’re talking about. their shoulders. Milton, MA to touch it but the old lady caught his arm. went. Hauled him onto the stool. His back The girl’s mother had seen them. What did you say? A Pet Store He looks like silly putty. to the boy. Sweetie, don’t trouble the boy. I said I guess not. Don’t you say things like that. The boy swung back around to the snake. The man turned around. The boys blood The man pointed at the cage. The boy He does. Her tongue flicking out of her mouth, her pounding in his face. stared at him. Kept his expression deadpan. I remember trudging You were enough trouble to that man body swaying slightly as she looked at him. Mommy he has a snake in his sleeve. The corn snake sir. Through the field bruised from last night’s Christina Menniti alive. Don’t go botherin’ him now he’s dead. He looked at the man. Looked at the The man heard her. The boy nudged her coils and softly as he frost Mystic, CT He plucked the strawberries off the fruit snake. Now or never. Leave him alone. I’m sorry about this. could. She moved like a person getting out Branches sagging in the dark blue air plates while the old lady made small talk. Moved fast this time. Took the lid off, The man looked at the corn snakes cage. of bed. Sluggishly testing all her muscles. A strand of hair caught in my dry, cut mouth Looked at his new loafers while she offered dropped a hand into the cage. Squinting. His face changing color in Sliding slowly along the length of his arm. Toward the swing set of metal rusted bars The rabbit stared. The boy stared back. condolences. splotches. The boy held her out draped between his Where my red Too tall and too old to be staring. He blink- What’s a coronary? No problem, Ma’am. fingers. scarf waits ed first. Pretended he hadn’t. The rabbit’s A heart attack. I think. The previous owner showed the boy how He took two steps back. Five yards to The man stopped smiling. nose and ears quivered. It squished its fluffy What attacked his heart? to make a snake coil around his arm when he the door. The man speeding towards him, a The boy raised the snake slightly to the so I see you broken flank against the glass. Shoved its eye close Good Lord child. I look like I know? Lit- was a child. He went to the pet store with tidal wave of digested doughnuts. The boy man. The man took the smallest step back. on the bed of empty, silver springs to the boy’s face. tle boys like you broke it clean in two. the woman. She wanted a dog. A retriever felt nauseous. You’re afraid of her. You own a pet store face cratered with gray I’m watching, dumbass. Really? she could hook onto a red leash and walk The mother was tugging the brunette and you’re afraid of her. You self-righteous knotted in your eyes Then it hopped away. Course not. around their neighborhood, wearing match- away. She looked over her shoulder, a crin- son of a bitch. that plastic tube climbing its way from your He straightened. He brushed his fingers ing red sandals and a white dress and sun- kle in the strawberry ice cream skin between Put it back. wrist to your neck over the rim of the cage. He glanced at the glasses. She sat in the pens with the puppies her big blue eyes. For a second the boy was The man was smiling again. He pointed tanks gleaming in the sickly fluorescent Well hello there darling. and they jumped at her and licked her face sorry. to the cage. The boy crossed the room quick- And my mind trudges back light. The rabbit’s back was deliberately The corn snake nodded gently at him, and she laughed like a girl. She was beauti- Excuse me. Sir. ly. The customers watching. His footsteps Searching turned. strawberry blond and glossy. ful. The owner let the boy hold the animals. He turned for the door. His heart beating squeaking slightly on the linoleum. The lid A tiny brunette gaped at him across the Hello yourself. Listened when the boy talked. Tousled his in his intestines. ground metallically as he lifted it. Dropped cage from her mother’s arms. He tugged at the threads on the cuffs hair once or twice. He never mentioned the Sir. the corn snake back in the tank. People went in and went out. Parents and Hey, don’t touch the glass. The man was of his sweatshirt. The man couldn’t see snakes that turned up missing. The man seized his shoulder. Touched You’d better leave sir. children. spilling over the boundaries of his pants and him. He was in the fish room. The lid of him. The boy squirmed away with a frantic He did. The air got cooler as the sun set. He start- uniform shirt. Sweating. Flesh rippling gen- the cage slipped off easily. He hesitated. twist. ed to shiver but he didn’t put the sweatshirt tly. Staring. Leaned it gingerly on the stand. The corn The boy let his finger gently brush the What the hell do you want? back on. The flow of people slowed. And The brunettes face was plastered to the snake watched with languorous golden eyes. corn snake’s chin. She slid over his palm, The man seized his sleeve, flicked it back. The old lady took him to the pet store then stopped. cage. Still staring at him. The boy looked Slight undulations of her body as she glided her body smooth and dry and sleek. Twist- The corn snake coiled around the boy’s bare after the woman left. Then the previous Sometime after dark the man came out. at her. Looked at the man. The man looked down the branch. ing delicately around his wrist. Her tongue arm. The man’s eyes lit like Christmas lights. owner died and the store closed. It was only The boy watched him lock the door. He back. What the hell does it look like, like Her tongue flickered out between her brushed the skin inside his forearm. He Would you care to explain this sir? a few months later. He missed it. He missed thought about standing up. Walking up the I’m gonna break it? But the boy didn’t say it. teeth and disappeared. shivered. She slipped under his sweatshirt. Not really. the woman too. He cried some and started man where he stood by his car and spitting Sir. The man raised his eyebrows. He looked over his shoulder. Stopped wound delicately below his elbow. He felt lightheaded. Aware of the blood collecting wild snakes instead of pet store in his face. Hitting him. But he didn’t do Okay. The man was walking to the counter. The The man hadn’t moved. The boy pulled in all of his veins. He didn’t wipe his hands ones. He stopped when they starting dying it and the man heaved himself up into his The man watched him walk the long way boy cursed quietly. Stepped back from the down on his sleeve. Ambled off past the on his jeans. and then he missed them too. The old lady pickup. It dropped slightly under his weight around the fish room and jiggled as he made cage. Stared fixedly at the mice. Mice sleep- mice again. The man waved to a customer. I believe that snake belongs in that cage. made him bacon and gave him the paper and the boy laughed out loud. change. The boy stopped at the puppies. ing in piles. Curled into balls. Mice run- Turned and looked at the boy. Looked at the Right over there. with his plate. The man’s bloated face under The man didn’t look in his direction as he Tangles of them that piled at the front of ning over one another like insects exposed mice. Walked to the cage and stared in, his He could smell the man’s breath. Milk. the sign of the pet store with the caption drove away. their cages to yap at him. He almost smiled. to light. The snake at the blurry edge of his girth completely obscuring them. He took a step back. The man took a step new owner. And the boy decided he hated The boy sat on the curb. Looked in the The man oozed out from the behind the vision, nodding with laughter. He heard the Time to go. forward. His small smile made sallow bal- him. store. Dark. Shut up. Empty. counter. Bounced across the floor. The boy gentle slap of the man surging bulk toward Ten yards between him and the doors. loons of his cheeks. wrapped his hands in sleeves and took slow him. He didn’t look up from the mice. The parking lot shining beyond them like a I could contact the authorities about this. steps towards the kittens. Any of you squeal, Ill feed you all to the beacon of hope. You cock-sucking bastard. You’re enjoy- He waited in the back of the parking lot. The old lady said the boy was trouble. She Is there something I can do for you sir? snakes. He measured his strides. Two linoleum ing this. But the boy stayed quiet. Took off his sweatshirt. He was too hot and was hard on him but he didn’t mind. She The man’s eyes were narrowed, disap- The mice weren’t listening. squares per steps. Away from the puppies. I’d be within my rights. sweating. His face felt hot. He wasn’t sup- read him stories and took him to beach and pearing into his face like raisins into dough. The light clatter of the lid as the man re- Two seconds per square. The man’s voice was gentle. Nobody posed to get caught. bought him a guitar and he loved her. But Sweating, oozing dough. fitted it on the cage. No other sound. The Past the door of the fish room. could see his face. The brunette’s mother The little brunette left not long after he he didn’t listen to her. No thanks. boy stayed still. He wasn’t hurrying. was watching. Her forehead ridged just like did. She didn’t see him. Her voice pitched Just tell me if there is. The man was staring at him. Just staring. Six yards. the brunettes. Identical expressions. The up in a question. Her mother’s lower answer. The back of the boy’s neck felt itchy. He A tug on his sleeve. The little brunette. boy’s throat was too hot. He didn’t here the words. The back of his The boy wrapped his sweatshirt around didn’t scratch it. Stayed still like a possum Mr., ‘scuse me, Mr., can I see the snake? Should I do that sir? throat and eyes stung. his hand. Breathed in. Breathed out.

36 : susquehanna university apprentice writer : 37 Punched the door as hard as he could. them in the cupboard. see. Not wanting to be seen. to the nature of fish markets, it was impossible Or, maybe he was one of several children him- The glass fell in a sheet. He stepped over the Have fun. for me to predict what I would witness when self. Maybe he had been a rabbi in a past life! threshold and stopped. Oh we will. one of the fish sitting in the plastic tubs on the Eventually, I realized that his back-story didn’t Nothing happened. He wanted to stay. He wanted to sit on The man stumbled drunkenly through his display table was selected to be taken home to matter because soon, he would be cooked He pulled the sweatshirt off his fist. A the floor and he wanted to hold the mice store. Into fish room. Out again. Through some hungry person’s kitchen. to perfection, and his body would end up in few pieces of glass fell out. Clinked as they and he wanted to talk to the kittens and the Employees only door. Didn’t come back. For the moment, I was still naive. I was too someone’s digestive tract. hit the linoleum. Pale blue light and weird puppies with the woman in a white dress and The boy slipped behind the man’s truck. OF CRABS AND preoccupied with the crabs that were sitting i was grateful for the fact that sea- shadows. The fish room, cavernous and red sandals and sunglasses. Watched him through the windows and kept in the plastic bucket at the back of the mar- food was rarely brought into my house, be- black. He stood thinking for a moment. He left and sat on the curb at the back waiting. ANESTHETIC ket to be concerned about my future. Each cause after thinking about how the crab’s last Then stepped behind the counter. of the lot. Drew his legs to his chest and The man came out again and the boy crab was as large as my hand, with beady black moments alive would be spent inside a pres- There were drawers and cupboards on wrapped his arms around them and rested could hear his voice. Too high. Watery. eyes, orange shells, and sharp-looking pincers sure cooker, I started to feel a tad nauseous. the inside. The drawers were locked. The his head on his knees. He began to shiver The man picked up the telephone. The that were carrot-colored on top and beige on My mother waved me over and told me that we cupboards weren’t. They had extra change again and pulled on the sweatshirt. He slept cops. The boy almost turned to go but the Nanditha Lakshmanan the bottom. Having lived in a household that would leave after she ordered a couple of fish in them. Register paper. Wooden shelves. and woke at dawn damp with dew. man bent down talking into the phone. Livingston, NJ was, for the most part, foreign to the ways of to take home. I nodded slowly and watched He thought about the police. The lot was still empty. He uncurled The whine of his voice unpunctuated by seafood, and having never seen a living crab as the man at the cash register wrapped up Rustles and muted squeaks from wakeful himself slowly, stretching his feet out on the pauses. before, I devoted an immeasurable amount two fish for my mother. I tried to look away animals. Livelier now than in the daylight. pavement. The clouds were pink rimmed His head disappeared behind the counter. While at a supermarket, you usually don’t of time to staring at the crabs. A majority of from their damp faces, but it was impossible Relax. I’m not here for you guys. with gold and the sky was the palest blue The cupboards. The boy bit his lip. expect the products on the shelves to come them were moving; some were swaying their to ignore the gazes of the dead creatures that He walked quickly this time. Snake cages and he smiled to himself while he watched The man screamed. High pitched and alive and snap at you. But within five seconds crustacean forelimbs in the air like fans at a pierced through their plastic wrappings and in rows on shelves. Moonlight reflecting the sun rise. short. And he didn’t get up. of reaching the crowded fish market, I real- Bon Jovi concert; others used their arms for into me. In a desperate attempt to avoid the bluely off their surfaces. No need to be quiet The man’s pickup pulled in sometime And didn’t get up. ized that this was, in fact, the norm for aisle more aggressive activities like arm wrestling fish, I directed my eyes elsewhere, and they set this time. He pulled the lids off. They clat- after the sun came up. The boy’s stomach The boy waited. And the man still didn’t twelve of Closter’s Korean Mega Market. I and boxing. their sights on a young man who was stand- tered when he dropped them. twisted slightly. get up. can’t recall whether or not my jaw dropped at my brother later came over to ob- ing before a kitchen countertop with various Well hello ladies. The man dragged himself out of the The boy thought about going to look but the sight of all the living fish. But that might serve the crabs with me. Soon after, a lady ap- cooking utensils spread out in front of him. He looked for the wink of the light of truck. Braced himself with both hands on decided not to. The old lady would be wait- have been because I couldn’t feel my jaw when proached the tub with a paper bag in hand. His gig seemed innocent enough. I figured their scales. Found them in the dark of their the doorframes. Each step down was hard ing up for him. Worrying about him. She I reached the store. I was eight years old, and Like us, she also had a little smile playing on that watching the cook would be a safe way to cages one by one. labor. The boy watched. Watched him take would probably hug him and yell in his ear. had just left the dentist’s office. Dr. Song had her lips. At first, I thought that she had come distract myself from the plastic-wrapped fish He let them rest on his palms as he car- the first steps toward the store. Watched He left quickly with his hands his pockets. pulled out two of my baby teeth and admin- to watch the crustaceans with us. But then, she that were currently being weighed. ried them across to the counter. Some him stop. Didn’t look back. istered anesthetic, and I remember hating him pulled a pair of cold, metal tongs out of her The cook took out a cutting board, twisted up his arms to whisper in his ears. His back was to the boy. The boy couldn’t with a passion for making my mouth go numb. bag and extended her arm so that the tongs and I eagerly waited to see how he would ex- He ignored them. A boa draped herself see his face. But he heard the shout. Cuss- In the paper the next day. The old lady When I tried to speak, what left my lips was ended up in the crabs’ bucket. I saw that the pertly cut the mounds of carrots and beans around his shoulders. Wrapped around his ing. shoved it under his cereal bowl. a phonetic nightmare. Because I sounded like crabs, all of whose attention had been solely that lay next to him (I grew up with my moth- throat. They hissed in different pitches as He watched the man waddle as quickly as Break in at the recently reopened pet I had a dire speech impediment, I refused to fixed on each other just seconds before, were er telling me how to properly cut a vegetable he dropped them in the cabinets. Eighteen he could to the door. Each roll of fat surging store. Nothing stolen. A prank. Owner in speak to anyone for two hours after Dr. Song’s now all angrily snapping at the metal instru- without slicing my fingers). But rather than in all. Flowing over one another and over and bouncing against the others. Quieter the hospital. A coronary, condition uncer- medicine-filled needle left my mouth. ment. After a brief struggle, the woman finally satisfy my need to see something unrelated to shelves and the cardboard boxes. He smiled now, but still swearing. Bulbous head rotat- tain. but I wasn’t upset because I couldn’t grabbed one crab, dropped it into the paper fish, he pulled out yet another scaly aquatic at them. ing side to side. Fingering the broken glass I guess that place just aint meant to be. speak to anyone. I was more upset over the bag, and left. All of the crabs ceased their snap- creature. I stood frozen as he set the body onto He started to leave but went back. Took in door with gross distended fingers. I guess not. fact that since I couldn’t move my jaw, I ping, but only a few resumed their prior activi- the cutting board. He got out a large blade and the water dished from a few cages and placed The boy stood. Hesitating. Wanting to couldn’t crunch on the tiny, sweet-smelling, ties. Wondering why the crabs weren’t moving hurriedly cleaned it off and dried it. His cus- golden cookies that a petite Asian woman was anymore, I slowly leaned my face towards the tomers would not be forced to wait a second offering at the entrance to the grocery section bucket, hoping that my eyeball wouldn’t get longer than necessary. I anxiously tugged on blinded, you told me when you told me of the mall. It didn’t help matters when my plucked out by an orange mandible. Once my brother’s sleeve, trying to get someone, the translucent expanse little brother eagerly showed off his ability to I was convinced that the crabs wouldn’t at- anyone to see what I was seeing. But when you’d fix it. No seams, scarf down sweets so that my stomach moaned tempt to puncture my cornea, I took a closer my brother faced me, he didn’t understand on the veracity of no sewing machine: of frail, candied sky out of longing. Before I could encourage my look at the shiny black holes that were their what it was that I needed him to look at, for above brother to chew on a well-seasoned, deep-fried eyes. It confused me when I saw what looked the only noises coming out of my mouth were smog-enhanced just simple knuckle sandwich, my mother wisely decided like beads of moisture dripping from their incomprehensible, nervous squeaks. The fish thread. Bare was the product of a hundred workers to move us away from the woman serving up eyes, because, as far as I knew, crabs didn’t cry. remained on the cutting board, his mouth sunsets dumping indistinguishable ink ramen, cookies, and ample reasons for a little I heard my mother call me, and turned to leave agape, mentally saying his goodbyes to his and ivory, I realized girl’s blood pressure to rise. the crabs. But before I left, I saw the most min- loved ones on Earth. The cook raised his arm (for erithy) your hands were still off the coast of china. So we made our way through aisles of iscule crab in the bucket give me one sorrow- over his head. Korean curiosities and eventually ended up at filled look before shifting his gaze. i watched in silence as the knife reaching. You must see, too, So prick. the source of all vegetarians’ nightmares. But as my brother dragged me towards came down. Stephanie Gouo that for the needle having never seen a fish market before, I wasn’t our parents at the counter, I pondered over San Diego, CA I hold my arm still, aware of the evils that lurked behind the three what kind of a life the crab had led before the to prick hard, prick fast, Wait for you to find my pulse. oblong, eel-filled glass aquariums that held up hungry stranger plucked him out of his home you must be unyielding, as you were the heavy granite countertop and the sales- and dropped him into a dark sack. Maybe he man’s cash register. Being young and innocent was a father who had raised several children.

38 : susquehanna university apprentice writer : 39 Half of its stomach was missing, its brain He removed his mittens and traced the wanted to start being a woman too.” She bit bled out of bed, slipped on some flip-flops folded into the concrete. It seemed half of its metal body with his bare hand, jerking away her bottom lip and let out another chain of – Mom always said never to walk around life had already been taken. Maybe the other when his skin caught on some rust. squeals, as if she had to swallow the embar- bare foot in hotel rooms or else I’d get a foot half still stuck here on earth was lonely now. Gruffly, he breathed, “I wanted you to rassment. fungus – and wobbled over to the bathroom “Anyway, it’s what it wants,” he said. I held have it.” I wanted to grab her by her sun-tanned with my knees stuck together. Classic “I have The Dead of Winter onto his elbow as my father dropped the “Dad. The bus is fine.” shoulders exposed by her spaghetti strap to pee” walk. metal blade of the shovel into the raccoon’s “Too damn expensive.” The Wastelands of tank top, and scream in her face hidden by I slid down my pajama pants and un- side. It didn’t twitch but rather settled dead As he bit the piece of rust out from un- a layer of make-up, “You’re only in seventh derwear. All I had to do was pee. My eyes Emmie Atwood in the gutter, slipping away. der his thumbnail, I could see the living van grade!” scanned the bland bathroom and all of its Milton, MA trapped under the folds of his mind, a Volk- Womanhood Most girls would love to delay the day whiteness. On Saturday, I found my father in the ga- swagen type 2 from the ‘60s, handsome in blood started trickling from a place that I finally drew my attention away from On Friday I found a raccoon in the gutter. rage polishing his Craftsman 22 driver. its blue and red paint. It belonged there with Lisa Delao wasn’t a flesh wound -- unless they have the fascinating bathroom and noticed that Its fur was wet from puddles of street gunk, “You’re home,” he said, his fingers twirl- him not here on these roads. Woodbridge, VA a twisted view of God and decide it is His I hadn’t heard a trickle fall into the toilet its snout caked red. ing the rubber handle around and around in “You could come home more if you had way of subordinating women below men by bowl. What’s wrong? Don’t I have to pee? I fetched my father from the garage. He his hand. Sawdust stuck to my eyes like lost a car.” making them bleed every 28 days. Yet here I looked down and saw it. It looked brown. was on his back greasing bike tires, spinning lashes, clouding around my father’s ankles “Maybe. Come on Dad, let’s go.” Bria was telling everyone she did the oppo- Brown would’ve been better than the other “In fifth grade I tried to give myself my pe- them around and running his black finger- each time he kicked up dirt with the toe of I reached for his elbow as we turned to site. Just to fit in. I wondered if she regretted color that stared me in the face. It looked riod,” Bria giggled as she shared this strange tips over the metal spokes. Removing his his Timberlands. I blinked. walk back to the house, listening to the van’s wishing for it. Being the idiot that she was, like dried blood, not bright and gory. It re- story with the class. We weren’t in a circle gloves and hanging them on a hook nailed to “Why is it so smoky in here?” last sigh join, sighing, with the air. she probably didn’t know a girl can’t give minded me of a scab in its beginning stages. telling personal stories, so why the hell was the back door, he told me he would get his “Eh, I had a cigarette.” herself her period. She deserved what was A scab on my underwear. she? Some looked confused and others sim- shovel. We turned at the end of our drive- “Dad.” On Sunday, I took him for a walk. The coming, tenfold - the kind of cramps Midol It was about two in the morning, which ply laughed along with her, all of them girls. way, our shadows long and cold on the side- He shrugged. I walked toward him and street sign up ahead was covered with snow, couldn’t cure, swelling like an elephant, and meant my panic would have to be in silent Her way of thinking was something I walk as cars blew dust onto our backs and leaned over his shoulder, watching him rub its letters paling in the light blue din. His a flow so heavy Maxi pads couldn’t absorb whispers. “What the,” I couldn’t form a sen- could not comprehend. branches above us shed snow. a red cloth over the screwdriver in minute hat hung low over his eyes. I beckoned him it all. tence, my jaw severed from my face so that Jesse asked, “How did you try to give “Did you finish the bikes?” I asked. circles. He paused, lifting it up to the fogged closer as a car’s lights condensed in the mist All the things that at the age of eleven I any attempt at speaking would emerge in yourself your period?” His face contorted. “Yup,” he said, brushing his hands on his bulb dangling on a wire from the ceiling, up ahead. didn’t know existed. grunts and mumbles. I was ready to fall over She couldn’t stop giggling! Her squawking, jeans, “not yours yet.” then lowered his goggles. “Everything looks blue today,” he said. the toilet seat unconscious. Am I sick? What toothy laugh that would be broken in inter- I nodded. He kicked the shovel, snow “You look good.” “Winter turns everything a bit bluer,” I My family and I went to Ocean City for vals as she tried to catch her breath. flaking off the metal tips. The red house on “What are you doing?” said. spring break. I told Dad it was a bad idea. The spotlight intensified; she had made the corner of Ruggles and Central sat sad “I found a van in the woods,” he said, put- When we crossed onto Ruggles, the sun The beach never opened before the begin- How I Learned herself an ant beneath a magnifying glass on and drooping among its pines, the roof piled ting his goggles back on. His voice tasted was a sliver of leftover light striping the ning of summer, but the man thought that a sunny day. Not only did I want to inspect high with ice and fog hanging in the corners like spoiled gasoline. “Damn it, I don’t think asphalt. At the new house on the corner of once he got there the whole town would Depression her, dissect her brain, and tear open her of its windows. It teetered near the point of this is the right one.” Central, he stopped, grabbing the wool lin- have to bow to his requests. Mother Nature thoughts, but I wanted to see her suffer as I collapse, sinking deeper and deeper into the “Which do you need?” ing of my sleeve. and the entire town had other plans. The day Kaitlyn Henderson went through my examination by depriving snow. “A Craftsman 17.” “Look,” he said, and pointed to a clover we arrived it rained like bullets, imprisoning Ho-ho-Kus, NJ her of anesthesia. “When do you think you’ll do it?” “Oh.” in the snow, sprouting out from a nest of us in our hotel room. All I wanted to know was why? “Eh, probably Tuesday. Maybe Wednes- He stood hunched with the driver tangled oak roots just between the curb and After the weather cleared up a bit, the “I stuck a tampon up... there.” Each word It begins with the smell. She reeks of melan- day.” clutched in his glove then shrugged, “You the sidewalk. “Look, Cal.” third day, we went shopping in local stores was followed by a squeal of laughter. Her choly and tire— The raccoon was up ahead on the pave- want to see it?” I nodded. “Huh,” I said and knelt down next to it. and played mini-golf where I kicked my cheeks were two shades of red, or maybe I like a hospital bed, or the morgue. Like pills ment, cradled in the shadows of the street I trudged behind him, my jeans tightening The world was dusted white, this plant pow- brother and sister’s butts. The basis of the just wanted to see humiliating foolishness and bleached sheets and canned milk. lamp. Its eyes blinked slowly as we hunched around my thighs with each step as they got dered clean. “Would you look at that.” game was simple: shoot the ball in the hole. pinch her face and make her regret sharing She wanders around the house. Her face over its stained fur, its tongue lapping up a wetter and wetter with frost. The snow was Knees hinged and sighing, he followed David thought that meant in the bush and this colorful story with us. lined, pink and quivering, trickle of water which framed the manhole punctured by squirrel tracks. Cold puffed me down to the ground, holding my elbow Yanira swung her club whichever direction “Why?” I asked; alarm rung in my eyes. but soft like clouds. Tears so common they on either side. My father knelt down next to into my ears, powdered my face, stained my to keep balance and wobbling a little on his she felt like. She’d hit the ball alright, and I didn’t notice I had said anything until ev- no longer have meaning. the body, butting its ribs with his toe. teeth, and I could hear my father’s breath soles. Removing his mitten first, he then launch it straight into the huge man-made eryone turned their heads to face me. She They’re just trails cut into her cheeks. Anxi- “It wants to die, Cal,” he said, rising to tremble with it, like the ticking of a dream. placed bare skin on bare stem. lake. shrugged her shoulders, hopped up on her ety plagues her lungs; infests stand next to me. I stared at it. We found it, half buried in ice, with a bare- “Should I pick it?” Dad only rented the hotel for four days desk, and looked around – first to her girl in her shaking hands. Like Cancer. She is al- “Why don’t we bring it home?” barked ash tree growing out from the top of “No,” I said. and Mom was anxious to leave. We made all friends, then to everyone else – searching for ways afraid of Cancer. “And do what?” its roof. Its windows were cracked and rust I stood up. My father stood too. His sil- of our last minute purchases of Ocean City understanding, or at least an answer no one She no longer sleeps. She sleeps forever. “I don’t know. Give it water or some- varnished the paint. houette was set deep against the night, roll- t-shirts and souvenirs we’d forget about or would laugh at. I guess she forgot this was 5AM she leaves before I wake. thing.” “I can fix it up.” ing gray into the rural roads. Night hushed break. We packed up our suitcases and dozed middle school, a place full of vultures; once The sky, darker than Mars Black acrylic, “I don’t think so, Cal.” “Nah, Dad. This thing’s finished,” I said, the snow, blurring my father’s outline until off to the comforting sounds composed by kids smell an embarrassing moment, they swallows her up as I catch her leaving. “Well, we can’t kill it.” stumbling toward him through the rime. All I could no longer see him next to me. We the rain hitting the boardwalk. It really swoop down to laugh and point until your I want to hear her heartbeat, listen to the “It’s what it wants.” I saw were two walls of metal rotting into kept walking a bit farther through melting made me want to go to the bathroom, but face is hot, stained with tears, and you’re rhythm of blood pumping “We can’t kill it.” the forest floor. forests, frozen by age, until the road became I resisted the urge because I was in such a curled up in the fetal position crying out for through her veins. You are still alive. You are, “It’s not going to get any better.” “I’ve got a buddy down at the station who silent, misted by frost, and winding lonely comfortable position. If a cozy spot on a bed your mommy. Mom, you are. “If we bring it home, it might.” said-“ is found, especially a hotel bed, it is a duty to “All my friends already had their period. I “Nah, I don’t think so.” “Dad, it’s not worth it.” stay put and guard it with one’s life. I grum-

40 : susquehanna university apprentice writer : 41 kind of disease is this? Oh my God, am I I felt a sudden rush of warm liquid soak the lanche of clothes and junk food. She man- wasn’t going to let that be my downfall. We sion. We were back on the highway heading but it was worse when I would tell my dad! going to die? This bleeding was definitely toilet paper that I used to clog it. My blad- aged to squeeze everything in, only a few were so close to home; all I needed was one home. After a moment I joined in on the He’d stagger over his words, unsure of how caused by some sort of terminal disease. I der felt emptied, drained, and my head was shirts and bags of potato chips spilling over, new bandage to get me the rest of the way. laughter. I didn’t know if I would be able to to comfort me, his child suffering from a was only eleven! I never even got to see an R- dizzy. I knew the sickness was moving fast. and closed the trunk door with a muffled Once we unloaded the van, I would unload enjoy harmless jokes with my family after womanly problem. Mom would stare at me Rated movie! What about high school and I felt metal weights in my belly and pelvic thud. David and Yanira jumped in and made my heart of this devastating news I found tonight. whenever she’d see me get a pad with dis- college? I wasn’t even in middle school yet area pulling and tearing the muscles, reduc- beds in preparation for the trip home. I sat agonizing to conceal. The headlights of the van cut through the tance eyes. The first time we went shopping and I was facing death! ing them to loose threads. behind my parents, I had to stay awake, stay “Daddy, can you watch the door?” I darkness that consumed our neighborhood. for female products, it was overwhelming I didn’t know what to do. If I told Mom, I quickly sat down struggling to stand and alert. pouted as I bounced in place with my knees Everyone was tired, so we dragged our suit- to choose between pads or tampons, then she’d tell everyone else; the whole vacation even more to keep a straight face. My lips Mom and Dad were busy rolling fruit tucked in. I had to keep up my charade. cases inside and left mountains of clothes in brands. She helped by picking regular pads, would be ruined. Instead of enjoying the car maintained a solemn line, and wrinkles did around in bins, trying to find the ripest of “Yeah, Lisita, just hurry up,” he said, only the laundry room. Mom, Yanira, and I made tampons being out of the question, as if the ride home with stops to produce markets, not crease my face in pain. “Yeah,” I agreed the bunch. David and Yanira cuddled into half paying attention. I slipped through an assembly line in front of the fridge to absorbent tube had the ability to impregnate we’d all rush to the closest hospital, where with Mom, “he never listens to anyone. But their pillows, smacking their lips searching the door and shut it behind me; there was store the food before it would spoil. After- me. we would have to stay until the doctors fig- this vacation wasn’t so bad. Even though it for the taste of the salty beach air, warm fun- no lock, so if Dad drifted off, I would have ward, I tugged Mom by the elbow. She was already worrying about me hav- ured out what was wrong. They’d tell my rained we still had some fun. I just wanna go nel cakes, and tooth-rotting cotton candy. no other protection plan. I took my chanc- “Mommy, can we talk? In your room.” ing a child, so she’d do her best to shield the parents the horrible news, and we would home, though.” Meanwhile, I struggled to bide myself time. es and began my superficial surgery once My voice was shaky, almost inaudible. My truth, as if she could keep me from bleed- need time to cry and make funeral arrange- She nodded in agreement and smiled. My eyes scanned the fields of corn husks again. as soon as I pulled down my capris bandages could no longer hide this bloody ing every month. All I thought about then ments. Spring break would be ruined if I “We’ll be home soon.” My stomach churned, that lined the road on both sides. Bathroom, and panties, the door creaked open. truth. Worry plagued her face with wrinkles, was whether a red spot would appear on my told Mom. rolling the weights around as I prayed to my- bathroom. I needed to get to a bathroom. I only got a glimpse of his face; it was the signs of a loving mother. She closed the jeans, intruding on my kickball game during Who said I had to tell her, though? self and whatever God was listening, I hope I straightened my body so that I was no chubby and he wore gold wire-rimmed door behind her and turned to me. recess. After calming down to a level where I we get home before I die. I don’t want to be longer hunched over holding my intestines glasses. Upon hearing my shriek, a mumbled “What’s wrong, baby?” She took my I guess becoming a woman means to slow- could breathe without sounding like an asth- roadkill! so they wouldn’t spill out. Approaching an sorry came from his baritone voice before hands; her soft thumbs rubbed my knuckles ly lose your life after all. matic child, I devised a scheme. I slipped off David and Yanira passed the soccer ball adult while in pain was going to be as strenu- the door shut. His apology meant nothing as if she was hypnotizing me to melt beneath my pajama pants and the gross evidence of back and forth in the Holiday Inn park- ous as walking upright had proven to be. to me. I was exposed. I pretended he saw the her touch. And I did. my illness, tossed the underwear into the ing lot. Every time David had the ball he It took every ounce of strength to mouth bandage stained crimson; that meant I was “Mommy,” I paused, taking a deep breath, trash can, until I realized that Mom’s eyes popped it up with his foot and flaunted his words instead of grumbles and grunts. “Ex- no longer the only one who knew I was go- “I’m dying.” I pulled down my pants; the would somehow wander there... I plucked disciplined control by cradling the sphere on cuse me,” I smiled, “Do you have a rest- ing to die. Sharing this with another human sight would explain those two words no one Weeding my Garfield panties out, making sure not to the back of his neck and shoulder, leaving us room?” The happy facade was beginning to was comforting, even if he was a stranger. I ever joked about. There, speckled on my touch any part that had been contaminated; in awe, and then nestled it back on top of his break; the man needed to answer. walked out of the restroom, thankful I didn’t poor bandage, was scarlet. It wasn’t dark or Peter LaBerge wrapping it up in toilet paper, I made sure shoelaces in perfect stillness. Yanira tried to He finally spoke, “Sure thing, doll. It’s have to see his face. soaked, but there was a trace of my looming Stamford, CT to conceal every bit of cloth. I dropped the imitate him, but she failed and the ball hit right around the corner.” With his detailed Dad slurped his Diet Coke, dug into a death. blood-stained evidence into the trash can, her in the back of the head. It rolled down directions I could have saved myself the pain bag, and pulled out fries. “You want some?” She laughed and pulled me by my shoul- Bare-foot, pulling weeds from his ex wife’s this time well hidden. No one would ever the parking lot until it lodged itself beneath and walked around until I stumbled upon he asked, smiling. ders to hug me; if it wasn’t for her catching garden. know. the bumper of a Honda Civic. the woman in a triangular dress, the univer- My grimace told him that this could not me, I would’ve tripped over my ankle-high They writhed like visions trapped in wine A few hours after my discovery, Mom and David held his stomach as he laughed, sal restroom sign. be fixed with food. “You didn’t watch the pants. For a moment I mistook her laughs glasses. Dad woke us up. My eyelids slowly lifted to “You’re supposed to hold the ball on your The stench of hot feces attacked my sens- door! A man walked in on me,” I snapped, for blubbering. Her eyes welled up, but then Some resembled shrubs she couldn’t resur- the sight of everyone else getting dressed and neck, not let it hit you on the head!” Yanira es as I swung the door open, fanning the ignoring his offer. I didn’t see a smirk on his she smiled. They weren’t tears of sadness. rect, packing up loose items. The news I found rubbed her skull, and her body shook in uni- flames of past visits. Holding my breath, I face, but his buoyant voice made me think They were tears of joy. “Lisita, you aren’t dy- only choke from the surface. out last night dramatically affected my sleep. son with her chuckles. walked into a stall. The healing process was he was suppressing laughter. ing, you got your period.” I had dreams of my funeral service. “Lisa, can you go get it, please,” she man- finished faster this time. As if performing “Did he see anything?” “Period? As in what comes at the end of Sticks and branches eroded “You okay?” Mom touched my forehead aged to ask between giggles. I shifted from surgery, my fingers moved with precision “I don’t think so...” my voice trailed off, a sentence?” to nakedness. The snap of the wood against and retrieved her hand soaked with the a walk to a jog, but the moment my weight as I plucked the wad out and tossed it away, and I sunk my head into my chest. “But still, No, it’s a disease that leaks a crimson flow her skin. A frisbee and soggy blue newspaper sweat. landed on my front leg, fluids flowed down ensuring that I didn’t get any on my skin. I you shouldn’t have left me alone!” Dad put every 28 days. sleeves My eyes widened in horror, and I jumped my internal drains. My hands dropped to my knew nothing of what I was experiencing, so his arm around my shoulder and gave me the She reached into her purse, handed me a hid under the bushes. out of bed. “Fine! Just tired,” I smiled, imme- stomach, tightened around it, and quickly I took extreme precautions in trying to con- Wendy’s bag. Inside there were two medium large bandage, and said, “Here you go, that diately taking my eyes off her and scanning released. tain it. My legs shook as I hovered over the fries and a bacon cheeseburger. should help.” She rubbed my confused face, Her fingers swimming in the lilies and lav- the area around my bed. I picked up a pair of I turned around and said, “I don’t wanna, filthy toilet seat, the roll of toilet paper spun “I’m sorry, Lisita.” He smiled and rubbed “Oh, my little girl is becoming a woman.” ender capris and a t-shirt. Out of the corner of my it’s too far.” They couldn’t know I was sick. around my hand like a cottony cocoon. I my head. “I got that for you,” he said, point- She embraced me again. met a steppingstone with two handprints: eye I saw her with her arms crossed. She gave Yanira grunted at me and jogged off. I want- shoved the bundle where the soiled one used ing to the bag with his lips. He got in the I never received a pamphlet on menstrua- one larger than the other, with two names me the Mom look of omniscience. She knew. ed to run and retrieve the ball so that we to be, nestled between the apex of my inner van, and I pulled myself back into my spot. tion full of colorful diagrams identifying etched into a carved heart. “Lisa.” Her voice was gentle; she placed could all play together, but I knew I couldn’t thighs. Good as new. The thought of eating made my stomach female and male body parts. Perhaps Mom her hand on my head, petting the stray take part. I had to conserve my energy. Sit- My self-made bandage wasn’t stopping the churn. My illness now hindered me from and Dad discussed who would be the un- She put it with the rest of the weeds. hairs back in place with the rest of the un- ting down on the curb, I watched the ball blood, merely absorbing it, but at least it was enjoying one of my favorite activities. As I lucky parent to have the awkward conversa- ruly clump. “I know this vacation wasn’t roll back and forth, jealous that their blood concealed. Two hours had passed since the passed the bag back in to David and Yanira, tion of the birds and the bees with me but Then got on her hands and knees what you wanted it to be. We all told your was still in their veins. last stop when I had to fix myself again. they jumped on it like vultures. never got around to it. Mom only told me to and pulled thyme by accident. dad, but he’s as hardheaded as a coconut. “Let’s go, kids,” Mom said. She placed her “I have to pee,” I whined. “Someone walked in on Lisa in the bath- expect blood from there every month and to Holding it up, she saw green shoots lifted You can’t break him.” She thought I was sad small duffel bag on top of the other suitcas- Dad wove in between blinding headlights room,” Dad announced. Laughter engulfed be prepared. from the white roots. about the vacation! My relief must have trig- es ensuring that the puzzle pieces wouldn’t to the exit and pulled into Wendy’s. The the van. Embarrassment pinched my face, After that, I was still uncomfortable tell- gered the blood flow to my wound because loosen from their positions and cause an ava- women’s restroom was out of order, but I but luckily the night hid my red hot expres- ing my mom my stomach hurt from cramps,

42 : susquehanna university apprentice writer : 43 As sleep falls in the innocent air lieved loveliness was just a face, a flower. and washed and wiped the coffee-stained ma- height. Those days were some of the bright- Regret plays its reedy flute in the dark. I’d like to tear these petals with my teeth. chines; she thought about them as she tidied est parts of Tara’s childhood. Tara grasps the A legend begins to move; We are so filthy with our love, the display of instant coffee packages; she frame in her hand, and holds it close to her Then you can trade places with the wind. It will be strange knowing at last it couldn’t go Once I was Rapunzel even thought about them as she patched up chest, still warming to the sudden heat in the on forever. a hole someone had punctured in the top of house. The picture she holds is nothing but a Once I was Rapunzel. (A cento) one. Tara could not stop thinking about them, moment sitting in a frozen world. If she and Fire raced under my skin. The heart lies to itself because it must. Margo Gurenburg but it wasn’t because of the cancer, it wasn’t her mother could revisit those moments to- I could whisper the word burn and he’d turn It was hard to distinguish from pain, because of the tattoo itself, no, it was rather gether, rather than Tara having to explain Livingston, NJ to ash. For sweetest things turn sourest by their deeds. Pursuing an the realization that so many things in life are every goddamn name and appointment and You need to say your prayers- far better off happening by surprise. face and street number and how the street Years ago, when I was rotten with virtue I be- Redemption hangs upon the nails. Erased Past The walk home is frigid. Tara left her win- can also be called a road and how a lit candle ter coat hanging on her closet door, and had holds a flame and how the girl standing before mom stands before the sink, defrost- of months from the woman who runs things, Sage Warner only managed to pick up her blue fleece on her her is her daughter, not some stranger hold- ing frozen peas and carrots in the brown bowl asking that the town mothers weave a string of Scituate, MA scrambled exit out the door this morning. The ing her hand. Her mother is losing it, and all we hardly ever use. She is humming softly, dinners into a family’s life. The pots of chili, wind seems to blow right through her chest, Tara wants is for someone to hit play on these tapping her foot along with the radio. On the loaves of bread, and the Tupperware contain- and her whole heart feels like it’s about to hit paused moments so her and her mother can Mom is making stove a pot of soup puckers and bubbles. It is ers of mystery meat fill their counters and re- its freezing point. Her paces rush themselves go back in time and relive them before they’re cream-based, soft and gauzy. There are four frigerators, but cannot fill the empty spaces of along the pavement, racing the wind and the erased from her mother’s mind completely. neat pie crusts lined up on the counter. air left behind by loss. But we are told these Soap first foams a frothy white, and then chicken potpie; dropping of temperature and light. Night She started up the cherry staircase, the pic- “Would you take the chicken out of meals help, and so we make pot pie. the hot water clears it away to reveal the ol- creeps around edges of brick. She passes the ture frame clutched tight underneath her right the freezer?” she asks me. When the pies have been pieced ive skin of Tara’s hands. Her right palm digs Gearson’s house, and surveys the worn out arm. Tara remembered sprinting up these stairs someone must on the counter rests a scrap of paper together and closed, they look like swollen into her left in a repetitive, circular, motion. yard, counting the broken flower pots and when she was young; each one was so sturdy with a name and address written on it. I look wounds, with pinched edges and round, pale The left waits for all five fingers to press hard, fallen shingles. Then she starts to look around and strong beneath her mud-covered feet. The at the pie crusts. Two for us, two for them. skin. My mother and I craft flowers with the but only three do the work. The dips where have died. at the other houses, and begins to see things two at the top would make a creaking noise, out of habit, I pull the makings of extra dough and place them atop each crust, the other two fingers should sit are empty. she never quite could in her rushed morn- and Tara would get excited every time she a salad out of the refrigerator and begin tear- cutting five thin slices around each blossom Dirt and coffee syrup swirls down the drain ing hours or nighttime returns. Each house heard them. Now, they all creak. The two at ing bits of iceberg lettuce apart into a bowl. I for aeration. of the white sink below. Tara barely turns the seems to have aged so much since her elemen- the top are thinned so much they bend down dump in the shredded carrots, chop up the cu- We will eat chicken pot pie tonight cold water faucet. She stares as water melts like Emily Masters tary years. Tara remembers the long walks her each time weight presses against them. It used cumber. Then I arrange the tomatoes around as well, because it is convenient. I set the table hot glass from her nails down to the base of Allendale, NJ and her mother would take right after supper to be so sensational to hear those creaks at the the edges and cover the bowl with cling wrap. as my brothers and father slid into their seats. her wrists. Tara watches the reflection of her in those warm summer nights, the blankets top; a sound so foreign to everyone else and i stand back and look at the bowl, My mother hands me my plate, a long slice of hands in the mirror. She dries her hands on a of heat warming the back of their necks like yet so familiar to Tara. Now, with all the steps turning it slightly in the light. I am not sure pie. The crusts open in a loose embrace of the single sheet of paper towel, and hides both up heat wraps. Her mother would point up at the creaking, the top two steps are two decaying who the family is this time, though most of filling. Peas and carrots and stretches of sum her topaz sleeves. houses, and tell stories about how they came disappointments rather than anticipated joys. the time I don’t. The calls come in every couple “Tara! Tara? Are you still in there?” Knock- to sit and stand so tall. Tara always looked up If those steps could talk they would talk of ing silences Tara’s memory, and she’s left star- at those attic windows that seemed like sky scents and children’s whispers and sledding ing at a mirror splattered with hot water and scrapers against twilight sky. Everything was with blankets down their slippery structure. specks of soap. so fresh and grand back then. Now, strolling Instead, they creak. The two at the top have “Yeah, sorry, I’ll be out in a minute.” on these sidewalks, Tara feels obliged to check seen so much all they can do now is sigh and Back behind the counter, Tara mixes egg- up on each house she passes, just to make sure age as the children’s laughs turn into memo- nog and cinnamon into the froth of the hot those once sturdy walls are still standing up- ries. milk sitting in a red cup. “Medium Easter’s right. Tara gets to the top, and calls out, “Mom? Eggnog with two shots of Hazelnut!” her Finally, the familiar midnight-blue shingles Are you up here?” A thud comes from the voice vibrates hoarsely against the metal ma- catch Tara’s eyes, and her feet guide her up small wooden door at the end of the hallway. chines around her. A hand with bulky fingers the dirtied steps of her house. Inside, a candle A laced doily hangs limply from the middle picks up its order. Tara notices a tattoo on the glows on the cherry wood mantelpiece. Next of the door frame. “MOM? You okay?” Tara hand’s left pinky. The ink runs in alternating to the flame sits picture frames filled with quickens her steps towards the door. She shades of pink, and with the pattern of dashes, childhood memories. One frame is made up knocks lightly. The doily flaps above her head, forms the universal ribbon for Breast Cancer. of silver plastic, with fat red lettering that nodding yes as if to give permission for Tara “It’s in memory of my mom,” the hand’s reads “Mother&Daughter”. The picture holds to enter. Tara turns the gold knob. It’s cold, voice says. “She was diagnosed, and then a the night of Tara’s 10th birthday. Pie custard even though the vent overhead is breathing week later she was gone. But uh, maybe things and whipped morang covers her face; the resi- down hot air. The knob turns easily, but the are better that way.” due left over from the pie-throwing event at door moves slowly. Something’s on the other Tara ran through the rest of the day’s orders the mini-carnival her mom had put together. side, blocking its way. A chair? Her mother’s in a blur. Each time she finished an order, she Her mom had stood on the mini-stage she had bureau? How did she even get it up against the felt like she was repeatedly hitting the snooze created in their downstairs sitting area. Tara door? button on her alarm and never actually wak- was on the floor with her princess tiara on her “Viola, it’s Tara, your daughter. I’m not ing up for the day. The only thing she could head and her face painted with flowers and here to hurt you. I’ve lived with you in this dream about were the words from the tattood stars. She looked up at her mom, who seemed house all your life. Please, open up.” pinky. She thought about them as she rinsed so strong and elegant elevated by the stage’s “GET OUT! IM CALLING FOR HELP! Shelby Wilcox Columbia, MD 44 : susquehanna university apprentice writer : 45 with the sharp tang of alcohol, had come out “Lex,” he says, a note of surprise in his voice. FIRE! FIIIIIRE!” Tara hears a window unlock down to her teen years. Heavy laughter for the colored laundry basket nestled in the corner fervent, if a little slurred. Lex doesn’t want to He doesn’t tell her to go away, which was what and then the breeze seeps through the crack times at the summer carnival: where the lights of the room. Gloves and scarves were mixed pin all her hopes on a heaven that might not she was afraid of, but he doesn’t invite her in she managed to open the door to. “FIRE!” and the sounds and the boys were like an ad- in with various linens and hats. This happened exist. When she looks up at the sky, all she sees either. Instead he just stands in the opening, Her mother’s voice sounds farther away. Tara diction. She would go back every year, and if every week. Viola would mix up her hat box is clouds or stars, no golden palaces glittering a little uncertain, as time ticks down for both fidgets with the door frame, finally pushes it she was lucky, one of the boys would take her with her scarf box and her linen basket with far up in the air. This park is her connection, of them. open, and sees the chair fall on its back. It hits up on the Ferris Wheel, and make her giggle her laundry basket, and eventually, they would her one memory of her mother. If she closes Obviously, it’s up to her to say something. the ground loudly, and Viola’s arms start to at stories he would narrate with nervousness. all end up in the same basket, which Tara re- her eyes hard enough, she can almost pretend. “If we die tonight,” she says, “I want you to flail. Her hands don’t know where to go; she’s The bags beneath her eyes erase the nights of solved to dub Viola’s laundry basket. If We Die Tonight But no children chase each other around the know...” trying to avoid eye contact with Tara, while joy and hilarity. They started forming when “I want my laundry done now, Tara. And playground. No dark-haired woman pushes And she stops. The words tumble together mumbling profanities in varying tones. Viola’s Viola got her first real job. Just out of college, while you’re doing mine, be sure to do Ste- the swing for her daughter. The ridged plastic on her tongue like a bad pileup at rush hour. hair looks like someone’s been frying it. Her she decided to earn her money by working ven’s. And don’t forget to iron his dark gray of the swing bites into her thighs as she sways eyes are bloodshot and framed with dark cir- her way up at an architectural company just suit, he cherishes that one.” Tara freezes. This back and forth, forcing the truth into her She has been carrying them around so long cles. Her legs search the floor for somewhere outside of Philadelphia. Her boss would leave happens even more than the mixing up of the mind with blunt honesty. Everyone remains inside of her that they’ve hardened, coal to else to go. They end up on top of Tara’s dad’s early and arrive late. Each time he came in the baskets, and yet she always feels the air stand Erin Niederberger inside, spending their last hours with their diamond cooked in the heat of her hopes and old leather recliner, the one he would sit on as door and went out the door he’d leave her a still when her mother talks about her father. family. Lex is the only one alone. All she has fears. he slipped on his socks and work shoes each stack of papers with a post-it on the top. The She never knows how to go about it, talking is her father, and she hardly wants to have her “I love you,” she spits out because, really, morning. That chair hasn’t been touched for messages were detailed and precise at first; about death, that is. How do you tell a woman life end while dealing with a grouchy drunk. what does she have to lose? But even as she years. Viola’s feet sink into the cushion, and she were to follow a strict set of instructions who is a child that the person she has slept The world ends today. Everyone says so. It’s She has one other person, she realizes. The says it, she wonders if after all this time it re- bring up dust that melds in with the sun’s af- marked by numbers. Each number had an a, next to for thirty years is no longer going to on the TV, the radio, the headlines of the pa- person who’s been in the back of her mind all ally means anything, even to her. Her love ternoon rays. Tara sees the specks and wants to b, and c. She found these easy to follow and in fill that spot? How do you tell a woman who per Alexa Lewis skims while she eats breakfast. day - or if she admits it, quite a bit longer than has become a child’s teddy bear, a toy carried cough, knowing the dirt she’s now breathing consequence left work precisely at 9:05 each is an aging child that the father to her only My last breakfast, she thinks with a shudder, that. Her best friend, who doesn’t even know around for comfort until it’s too worn for even in, but she doesn’t need to, so she can’t. Once night. However, then the notes began to turn daughter is lost, and cannot find his way back? scooping up the last drops of sugary milk from she’s hopelessly in love with him. That was the the owner to recognize. Juvenile. Insignificant. on top of the chair, Viola starts to breathe a into just numbers, and then the numbers into How do you tell a woman who is herself, lost, the bottom of her cereal bowl. Everything is way she wanted it. Still, now, now when the little deeper. She inhales through her nostrils, dashes, and the dashes into scribbles, and soon the directions back to sanity? How do you tell her last, today. world is about to come crashing down, would English Teacher: Amy McKitmis and out through her pursed lips. enough each one became a puzzle that she had a woman who is both so old and so young that Even in a world with no future, she’s still it really be so bad to tell? “You don’t look that scary, now that I see to solve before she could even begin each task. there is no Steven, and even though there was holding onto the past. She slipped out of the She has waited so long for a lot of reasons. He doesn’t say it back, or kiss her or any- you,” Viola’s lips start to spread into a grin, Viola stopped work at roughly midnight or a Steven, there will never be a Steven again? house easily- Dad’s deep in one of his drunken Brian has a girlfriend already and doesn’t seem thing like she’d daydreamed when this day was “Did they send you up here to get me ready for one in the morning each night after that, and Tara’s exhausted, but she doesn’t have a choice stupors again, big surprise- and now she sits on ready to give her up. She’s afraid of what his only a vague possibility. She’s glad of that. It the day?” Viola climbs down from the chair the bags began to develop under her skin. Vio- to ignore her mother’s naive words. a rickety old swing in the park, remembering. reaction would be, what it would do to the would be too fake, and today, of all days, she like a child would from a tree house; steadily, la looks into the mirror now, and sees only the “Viola. Your husband, he’s dead. He died in The chain rattles and squeaks as she pushes friendship they’ve kept going strong for over wants him to be real. eagerly, and determinably. surface of these marks; her brain forgets how a fire eleven years ago. You are a single woman, herself back and forth, digging a trench in half their lifetimes. If she is willing to admit Instead he opens his arms and she lets him She walks over to her bureau. Pearls are to dive into them. It’s as if one of the many living in Ashland, Virginia…and I am…I’m the graying mulch. She remembers when the it, the secret has become a part of her, a dark hug her, resting her face on the shoulder that laid out in a string along the mirrored surface. bridges she designed many years ago is finally your daughter, Tara. I live with you here.” mulch glowed new and golden, when children weight she carries inside. What will be left of has put up with her small sorrows so long that Viola sits on the embroidered stool, and props coming to life within her mind, and because Viola’s hands clench. The pressure of her ran screaming and laughing around the jungle her if she lets it out? she has probably left an imprint on the skin. her legs up on the beam underneath the bu- of the sleepless hours, the designs never thor- rings whitens her blue veins. “I don’t have a gym, and when a woman with long dark hair A glance at her watch- just an hour left- “I’m scared,” she whispers around the knot in reau. The mirror stares at her. It reflects the oughly became a bridge, but merely fragments daughter. I…want…I want to see my husband! and eyes like the sky did the pushing for her. helps her decide. “I’ll tell him,” she says out- her throat. story on her face. No wrinkles are missed, of wood that want to connect and can’t. Where are you keeping him! Why are you tak- The image hovers for a moment in her mind, loud, just in case her mother is listening, after “I am too,” he answers. no laugh lines are covered, no bags are con- Tara stares into the blue of her mother’s ing him from me! Give him back! I want to then drains away, like trying to hold water in all. “I’ll tell him now.” Her eyes prickle, but instead of tears, words cealed; the specks of green in her blue irises eyes. She looks for the green specks like she see my husband!” Viola picks up the string her cupped hands. come pouring out. “I don’t want to die. I’m show proudly, the thinning of her eyelashes used to search for bruises on a fruit she didn’t of pearls and hurls them at the mirror. Their “Mom,” she says, turning her face up to only seventeen years old. I want to graduate fade in with the redness that surrounds her want to eat. She wants to see them so she hard surface leaves a scratch on the top corner. the sky. It’s clear today, with only a few wisps high school. I want to marry and have kids and brows. There’s a memory to the wrinkle above doesn’t have to feel the blue swallowing up the Viola picks up the necklace again, and pulls it of feathery clouds interrupting the blue. It The windows of Brian’s house are dark. grow old. But I won’t. None of us will.” her left brow – in the sixth grade Viola began green. They’re the color of the September seas, harder and harder as she raises her voice loud- doesn’t mean anything, though - the end won’t “Maybe not,” Brian says. “But look.” He a fascination with eyebrow raising, but could the color that would reflect on her and her er, “I WANT MY HUSBAND! WHO ARE come by storms. “It’s me, Lex. I don’t know if Something inside Lex twists, threatening points down to the street and smiles. “See never accomplish the action. So, for each day mother’s face during the last stretches of sum- YOU TO TAKE HIM FROM ME?!” She’s you can hear me. Maybe you’re watching. Or to break, and only now does she realize how that?” after that she would practice, and then, as she mer. Her mother would always tell her about shrieking now, and sobbing amongst thick maybe you really did leave us behind without much she has been relying on this. How much “See what?” she asks, sniffing. “It’s just nor- finally understood the joy of doing so, she did the sea grass and the green sea foam and how, and heavy inhales. Her face is red, and looks looking back, like Dad says when he’s angry she needs to see Brian and have him tell her mal.” it everywhere she could. She raised her brow if Tara looked close enough into her eyes, she both cold and hot. Tara tries to grab her moth- with you.” Her voice trembles, but she steadies that it will be all right, even if it won’t. He’s “Exactly,” he agrees. “Look.” when the teacher called on her in math; she could see the story come alive. And wow, Tara er’s arm from breaking her favorite necklace. it. She will not cry today. “I want you to know always been the glue holding her together, and So she does. At first her brain protests, con- raised her brow when no one knew who had could. She could feel the waves every time she Viola starts to pound Tara; her fists matching that I miss you. And...and maybe I’ll see you without him she’ll start to come apart. fused and weary from an emotional overload. eaten the last of the bread in the breadbox; she stared into the depths of her mother’s eyes. the shapes of bruises covering Tara’s forearms. soon.” She tries to smile, but the expression Taking a deep breath, she knocks. Three Then she understands- why is it that Brian al- raised her brow when Tom Young asked her to The specks of green were fragile reminders that Tara slaps her mother’s hands away and then won’t come. No answer materializes, no whis- sharp taps, echoing down the empty street, ways sees so clearly? – and really looks. be his Valentine; she raised her brow when her more life existed in an ocean than just a wide- takes hold of each of her wrists. She matches per from up high or sudden angelic vision. Just startling a few birds into flight. The sun sets, throwing fingers of fire mother was rushed to the hospital; she raised spread blanket of blue. Now, Tara spots three the concave of her neck with the convex of the empty playground and the constant creak For long moments, no one answers. She through the darkening sky. The edge of leaves her brow when the funeral director tripped specks of that familiar green in her mother’s her mother’s face. She cups Viola’s cheekbones of the swing. But Lex isn’t expecting much. imagines the family huddled inside, surprised are gilded, turning the road into someplace up the steps to her front porch; she raised her right eye. There’s something still in there. in the palms of her hands, and looks into her She never does. by the interruption of their final goodbyes, magical. A few birds soar by, dipping their brow at her mother’s grave until it hurt. The “Viola, do you want your laundry done eyes. Her eyes have lost any hope of green. All Her father drank himself silly as usual, say- wondering who would leave their own fare- wings and vanishing into the distance. Timed other lines on her face trace laughter down now or in the morning? Your basket’s looking that’s left are story-less wrinkles and a lifeless ing he wouldn’t even notice the end, just wake wells to say hello. Eventually she hears foot- lights flick on in people’s windows. It’s beauti- to the roots of her skin and lungs, all the way full.” Tara nudged her chin towards the ivory ocean blue. up and find his wife again. His words, heavy steps and moves aside as Brian opens the door. ful, and it happens every night. 46 : susquehanna university apprentice writer : 47 of science and theology working together at Three. in assigned seats, they write down the cur- gether in rows: “Class, hey, listen up, today “They say the world is going to end,” he says, last. She’d thrown herself on her bed and cried rent event on the board. It talks about how we are going to talk about the system. The putting a hand on her shoulder, “and maybe it until her eyes were burning, screamed at the “I’m scared,” she’d told him. She doesn’t some nut-job broke down on television, at- thing that artists are always raving about; is. But I look out here, and I can’t believe that. universe for not even being decent enough to know what this emotion is now. A mix of tempting suicide, but he was stopped. Or and that same thing that politicians or law- The world’s still here, an dit doesn’t look like it last. “What fear, apprehension, sadness, anger, and maybe maybe it was about a sleazy Senator who yers really make no mention of because all has any intention of going anywhere.” kind of luck do you have to have”, she’d a little bit of hope. Hope for what, she’s not The Tiny Lecture could play footsy with the brown-haired, they do is play by its rules. How many of you “So what does that mean? That you’re right demanded, “for the world to end before your sure. She’s afraid to look too deeply into her red-fingernailed Secretary, while shaking a think that everything everywhere is planned and the whole world is wrong?” eighteenth birthday?” She hadn’t even re- own feelings, afraid of what she’ll find. Lying Waving Through man’s hand to stab him in the back with the by a group of people?” No one raised their ally lived. The world hadn’t answered. It didn’t to yourself when you’re about to die may be other one. hands. “Alright, kids, paranoid conclusions care. pointless, but it’s easier than facing the truth. the Tiny Galaxy are something society looks down on. But He shrugs and grins. “I don’t know. It’s still Eight. Two. assuming you are this ghost, you’d the real thing you should pay attention to is a good excuse to have Mom make cookies and be able to appreciate all the empty space in how many people have them, and even more hang out with my best friend.” Fifteen-year-old Alexa Lewis took a sip She squeezes Brian’s hand a little harder H. Vaughn Reese a room. No one ever seems to notice that so, how actually sane it is for many people to Best friend. The words make her feel so from her soda can and looked over at Brian and brushes the tear from her cheek. What- Slatington, PA most of a room is empty space. Their fields voice casual belief in them. Every man’s got much better. He didn’t say girlfriend, but at ever hellish onslaught is about to claim her, it of perception and vision get fixed on where his conspiracy, be it Jews, the Bankers, Wall this moment she realizes it’s enough. Robinson, the taste of cherries heavy on her won’t see her crying. life is. They forget all about the room. This Street, Communists, Capitalists, the Gov- “You should come in,” he adds. “Mom and tongue. I might love him, she thought. This is One. is exactly how the universe and our solar ernment. You know what I’m saying, that Dad won’t mind. They know... how it is.” bad. “I uphold the conviction that human be- system are. Most of everything is nothing. whole ‘the governments using satellites to “Thanks,” she whispers, and follows him in- She takes a deep breath, even though it ings are on Earth just to fart around.” – Von- To try and scale things up: take a basketball put thoughts in my head,’ thing.” With the side. Seven. won’t help. The world stills. Through the win- negut arena, and we’ll say the Sun is a basketball class meddling in laughter: “Right?” Some “Lex,” Brian’s mother exclaims. “Nice to see dow, she sees the last traces of sunlight slip be- sitting directly in the middle of the court, of the little planets in the middle rows shift- you.” Whatever Brian says, she looks panicked, Dad came home with the news when she low the horizon. Were you a phantasmagoric observ- Mercury would be the size of a grain of sand ed in their seats to show interest. While Ve- eyes darting back and forth like a trapped ani- was five years old, barely grown up enough to Zero. er, completely pallid, transparent, you’d see at the foul line, Venus could be a cockroach nus up in the front row stared harder, fixed mal, as if she doesn’t want a stranger encroach- understand. “Your mother was in an accident,” the natural pattern of all energy or life. How (a tiny one) under the basket, Earth would her glasses, then her awkward-colored shirt. ing on her family time. Lex can’t blame her. No he said. “She’s not coming home.” looking in hindsight at our galaxy: it really is be about two ping-pong balls past the bench Mrs. Flew gains confidence: “I mean think matter how much time she has spent at Brian’s Six. just several masses communicating with each or where the press sits right before the seats, about it kids, if twelve men could run Nazi house, she’s not really part of their family. other in circles, like atoms are several masses Mars - a microbe in the middle of the stands, Germany with one gifted orator, hiding the “Hello, Mrs. Robinson,” she says, eyes Six year old Lex sat on the edge of the play- The Dream communicating with each other in circles. A Jupiter would be a medium-sized bouncy mass killings of an entire people (needless to downcast. “Sorry for bothering you.” ground, tears streaming down her face. It was really scary part about this whole thing, this ball at the top of the stands, Saturn’s a bent- say getting human beings to actually commit Mother’s Day. The whole class had made cards, up fork near the ticket booth, Uranus (a such heinous acts,) making them think they Brittany Barnstead whole ‘life’ thing, self-awareness, is that to “It’s no trouble,” the woman answers. Brian even her. She’d been too embarrassed to ad- the cosmos we will be a simple flash of light smaller bouncy ball) lands at the sidewalk by were winning the war, run one of the most sits down on the sofa and pats the cushion next mit that her mother was gone. Never coming Millstone Township, NJ in a star. All of our history, thoughts, ac- the doors, a marshmallow Neptune orbits in successful propaganda campaigns, and keep to him. Before Lex can reach him, his mother home. tions, in our tiny little lives, or even our tiny the parking lot, and Pluto’s an atom way the all outside sources of information contra- sits on one side, his father on the other. She’s “What’s wrong?” existence as a species, will be a brief flash of hell out at where you drive in. Like I said, dicting them hidden, what makes you think In the darkness behind my eyelids, squeezed in right on the very end. Another light to the rest of space. Then, upon being most of it is absolutely nothing, no thing. A it couldn’t happen here?” This really turned not so subtle reminder that she doesn’t belong. She looked up to see a boy from her class. over, we will never have existed. This might school, classroom even, could be compared some heads, like owls. Venus read too cryp- A ruffled owl flew over head, Brian frowns and extends his arm across Brian, she remembered. His face was open and be what hurts all of us so much, or where si- precisely the same. tically into it, and started getting mad. Here his mother’s lap. Lex catches his hand, weav- friendly enough to convince her to tell the lence comes from, that nihilistic fact. Our was this no-good social studies teacher ques- Like dirty snow against the stars ing her fingers through his. The countdown truth. “My mom’s dead,” she choked out. That brief flash of light as a star, when it reaches knowing that most of everything is tioning her doctrine of life, her daddy’s job. playing on the TV is running down, red digits was somewhere, will hopefully even garner some nothing, you can decipher that you are some- Her orbit began racing. The middle planets flicking past almost too fast to read. how it all began: three words leading to And stared at me with eyes of piercing amber. beings attention for two seconds; then hith- thing! This may not seem like a very big deal started picking up speed, thinking. Uranus Ten seconds. eleven too-short years. erto our greatest purpose as a galaxy would at first, but when most of all the crap ends and Neptune were already long-gone five A little girl crouched under a jagged tree have been to remind him he’s so small. up as straight-out nothing, with all those minutes into class, doing their own thing in She’d never believed that your life flashes Five. possibilities (in every square millimeter life their own head. Whilst Pluto in the back, before your eyes right before you die, but it’s In a forest the color of sorrow. Go from this grand existence - can end or take place), all that empty space, she sure looked disillusioned and amiss, but true. Maybe it’s a way for humanity to relive A tear travels down her cheek, even as she something our minds can’t comprehend, it’s actually pretty freaking crazy that you are she just took her orbit a little slower, gaining the good times, to show that life is worth liv- fights to keep all of them in. What would you A mangled ragdoll sat at her feet all the reoccurring actions of everything, to alive, reading this right now! You are alive! a little more than everyone else. ing, even when it leads to such an awful thing do with five seconds to live? Her answer is ab- something much smaller - to a classroom in You move! As a pallid, transparent, observer as death. She sees her mother, alive and smil- solutely nothing. And leered at the sky. the flat flat flat Midwest. A place where you you could understand all of this. “What makes so impossible, even ing, and her father back when he smelled of can see for several miles all around, while disregarding razor-sharp technology, the paper and aftershave rather than whiskey and Slowly, she peered through a curtain of dirty the ever-pervading sky makes the ground When someone uses their life, be it idea of a few men running the world? Ev- stale cigarette smoke. She wishes they were Four. hair beneath you seem like an island floating in through actions or words, they are like the eryone playing a game they made! While real. Not in this life, but maybe in the next. this giant soup, or makes you feel like you’re sun burning hot. They give off rays of life they sit in a room just laughing, because it’s Maybe there’s heaven. Maybe there’s hell. And her white, sightless gaze stabbed my in a snow globe. No hills, no valleys, a clean you can choose to accept, mirroring it back, a big fat joke only they know the punch-line Lex doesn’t know anymore. Maybe Brian’s heart. sheet of brownish-black farmland paper. or shut it off. The teacher, as she speaks, gives to! Even though the signs of true happiness Nine. right and the end really isn’t coming, and ev- off rays of light to this tiny Galaxy Class- point another way, these cattle still listen!” eryone’s going to look like idiots in a few short That was the first time I woke up crying. The students file in, immediately sitting room, where most of everything is still noth- Again, the kids look uncomfortable, as most She remembers the day they finally deter- seconds. But maybe not. Maybe this is the end ing, but there are a bunch of some things to- people get when they have to question mined when the end would come, the product of everything. 48 : susquehanna university apprentice writer : 49 everything they’ve known. “What are you the whole Galaxy went ass-forward. Mrs. instincts. People Fear that they don’t see the You say we will pretend our drinks are sea wa- like they’ve never seen something like us be- told? Go to college, work hard, get a job, Flew smiled, “that’s a good question Sierra,” whole picture, then generalize a conspiracy. ter fore. work harder, die. Really, that’s all there is to smiling, “I used to think it was advertis- Rather than be taken by Fear, use your Fear and we will drink to our records and that bitch Salt burns my scissored skin. the Game. While people who choose not to ers. ‘The ones who control television,’ I to open you up to new ideas, to open you up who did the better butterfly. follow get shunned. Why? Almost every- said! They ran by greed, ran us by greed, to life. Fear acts as a catalyst of control for Your brother’s car smells like rebellion, Our breasts wash up against the lips of a scal- one who went nowhere played by their own making everyone chasing after clothes or Satan in the Bible. Now I’m not religious, our hair like chlorine. pel, rules, but so did everyone who went some- cars. We were all caught up in their fifteen- but it doesn’t take a preacher to see that evil the silver metal shimmering through our blue where!” minute monologues, the Televisions creepy roots itself in people. When all you truly Mermaids The car hits on your side. blood. Transparent observer, do you now blue aura holding people like chains around need is to enjoy every second you’re given I see your neck break on the dashboard, The surgeon says I’m lucky, see? You can watch the rays of life, of ac- their necks while getting fat, dieing. They like an infant. For that is how we enjoy life Jessica Blau a wave crashing on the sand and I think, I’ll go back to being who I was before. I look tive thought, come off. To and fro they are got rich off it. But, the only things you can at our most base level. If you approach all Milton, MA I’m sorry you never got your first taste to you received, filling the empty spaces of minds. believe are what you check for yourself. Go things with a balance, or willingness to seek of something other than seaweed and fish eggs. in your hospital bed, see your heart monitor Hither, thither, they deflect, are rejected. out and observe patterns, because they’re for truth, you can see that the patterns aren’t run dry. Look at poor Venus and Mars, they either everywhere. What I think paranoid people malicious, they’re beautiful, like in Nature.” We are underwater as they lift me to a stretcher. I know better. We have lost our tails. fully accept, or reject. An open, subjective, take in as a malicious system, is really just She radiated warmth to all the tiny planets I see your parents until I realize they’re just existence has never occurred to them; be- simple patterns they pick up on. They real- doing the dance she described around her. strangers cause the game prefers numbers and objec- ize that anything could be possible, or that “And remember, ‘questioning everything on the street, watching you, watching me, tive thought. So now they suffer, unable to thoughts come from somewhere deeper was never not an option’ Noam Chomsky hold life, only deflecting it off then getting than the mind, with Fear infecting that no- said that, he’s a pretty smart guy too, who Trod down and down again He edges away. the heat twice as bad. (Venus and Mars are tion. Subsequently, they believe then their actually isn’t dead!” The class laughed, the today, the beach is no picnic. He huddles. the planets too hot to live on, get it? Like thoughts aren’t their own. That someone’s bell rang. Earth looked filled with inspira- Picasso paints the Dead smart kids who sit in the front putting those thoughts there. But this just tion and life and water, he walked quickly Los Glaucos a Soviet Spain: From afar, a gull whines; with no personality, get it?) explains one type of insane. I think a lot of out. Venus, class president, got sun-burned the pre-cautions taken in society are out of with anger. Pluto slowly, confidently, made Stephanie Kraynak damp, dreary, muted. no, it is his son Fear. The cameras, the police, the politi- sure to be the last out of the room, so she Hatboro, PA whimpering from hunger. “These are all things you should cians always standing the same way on stage, could watch. Mrs. Flew sighed, then once The bread has slipped through his fingers. he edges away, be asking. As teenagers you are the future! between all this I do not want to be a para- more put up the current event. So it goes A moldy wave inquires his soul ever smaller. You’re growing older this second, this one, noid schizophrenic. Did you know that on, our tiny lives. You float away back where of his bony feet this one. Albert Einstein, everyone know schizophrenia has much higher rates in ur- you came from, like a true observer does. him?” They chuckled again, many sitting ban areas? Just something to think about.” forward in their seats. “He said this once, and he was a pretty smart guy: ‘The great- This tiny solar system, had just dis- est obstacle to truth is the unquestioning you could see just the right amount cussed a system. trust and acceptance of authority.’ You need of rays hitting the Earth row. They began to to learn to ask questions.” Ironically, Pluto breathe with thoughts of their own, not cop- raised her hand in the back. She never raised ies of the teacher, but of their own. “All cru- “Either you repeat the same con- her hand. “Mrs. Flew, what’s your conspira- el acts can be traced back to Fear or Greed. ventional doctrines everybody is saying, cy then?” Which most Greed can be rooted to Fear. or else you say something true, and it will it got slightly quiet. Suddenly Fear is evil because it’s one of our most basic sound like it’s from Neptune.” - Chomsky

They steady each other – old they pull their coats tighter, weary feet and retreat to La Catedral The Nuns in Trastevre on old smoothed cobblestones, del Santa Maria en Trastevre. fresh bread from the bakery, The old oaken doors still steaming in their hands, pulled by ancient hands, Anne Thompson wooden rosaries woven the warm church welcomes them, Baltimore, MD around their withered wrists. enveloping them in comfort As the wind whips their habits behind them, and God.

This legend is uneasy, unreliable, wrong, and In Chanel lipsticks under the radio, Your Heart a Perfect reckless. To squander as you please. In a blare of shining brass, Globe (a cento) Dark signs crawl toward the edge of the page, Terror is a mirror in which your eyes belong, Spiraling, arms-outstretched airplanes. Not accounts of dusk, Clara Berkeley Large as your heart a perfect globe. You have measured your life Livingston, NJ Brittany Cho Brooklyn, NY

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Susquehanna University’s Writers Institute provides stu- available to incoming writing majors based on the quality tion Day, which brings 150 high school seniors to cam- dents with the opportunity to receive nationally-recog- of their writing portfolios. Prizes of as much as $1000 pus for workshops in all genres of writing. Each summer, nized undergraduate training in all forms of creative writ- are awarded to students chosen each year on the basis of the Institute offers the one-week Advanced Writers ing through its Creative Writing Major. Students work work published in our student magazines and in senior Workshops for High School Students. Participants live closely in fiction, poetry, creative nonfiction, editing, portfolios. on campus and concentrate on fiction, poetry, or creative and the technology of publishing with faculty who are nonfiction, working closely with published writers. widely-published authors. Small workshops and one-on- The Student Reading and Chapbook Series: Ten stu- one instruction are central to the Creative Writing Major, dent readings are presented each year. Every senior writ- The Writing Faculty have published thirty-four books which is enriched by the following programs: ing major edits and produces a chapbook that showcase of fiction, poetry, and nonfiction, many of which have his or her best work. been used in classrooms throughout the United States. The Visiting Writers Series: Seven writers visit campus They have won major book prizes such as the Flannery each year (One of them for a week-long residency). Re- Internships: Susquehanna’s Creative Writing Majors O’Connor Award for Short Fiction, National Endow- cent visitors have been Tobias Wolff, Andre Dubus III, have had recent internships with national magazines, ment for the Arts Fellowships, Pennsylvania Council Li-Young Lee, Billy Collins, Sharon Olds, Robert Bo- advertising agencies, professional writing organizations, on the Arts Fellowships, Pushcart Prizes, and magazine swell, Jayne Anne Phillips, Louise Gluck, Eavan Boland, nonprofit foundations, newspapers, public relations prizes. They regularly publish their work in such peri- Richard Bausch, Dagoberto Gilb, Ted Conover, Tom firms, film producers, radio stations, churches, businesses, odicals as Harper’s, Newsday, Virginia Quarterly Re- Perrotta, Carolyn Forche, Sue Miller, and Richard Ro- and schools. view, The Paris Review, American Scholar, The Georgia driguez. Review, and Poetry. Their work has been syndicated in Graduate Programs: Within the past six years, Writing newspapers throughout the United States and heard on The Susquehanna Review, Essay, and RiverCraft: Majors have been accepted with fellowships or assistant- National Public Radio. Three distinct magazines are edited and produced by ships to such outstanding graduate writing programs as students—a national magazine featuring work from un- Iowa, Columbia, Hollins, Indiana, Washington, Hous- If you would like to know more about the programs dergraduate writers from across the country, a nonfiction ton, Arizona, Massachusetts, Johns Hopkins, Pittsburgh, for high school students or receive information about magazine, and a magazine of fiction and poetry from Boston University, Ohio State, UNC-Greensboro, the Creative Writing Major at Susquehanna, see our Susquehanna student writers. UNC-Wilmington, George Mason, Rutgers, Mississippi, web site at www.susqu.edu/writers or contact Dr. Gary and The New School. Fincke, Director, by e-mail at [email protected] or by Endowed Writing Prizes and Scholarships: Ten writ- telephone at 570-372-4164. ing scholarships of $17,500 per year ($70,000 total) are In addition, the Writers Institute sponsors Writing Ac-

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