The Catholic High School of Baltimore Canticles 2015 Cover Art by Mallory Olivier, ’18

Home , Crooked Smile

To The Reader

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i 1 Joanna Kouloheras ’18 Poetry Untitled Ally Lanasa ’16

I Heard... I heard a voice, strong and determined, as her lips moved. I heard words, that echoed in my ear with a familiar ring. I heard words, foreign to my tongue. I heard a voice triumphant and unwavering. I heard words of self-conﬁdence and love. I heard words, articulated as clear as a ﬂowering thought. I heard a voice as I looked into the mirror, a voice all my own.

Karl Bryullov– Young Russian Girl

3 Finite Time, Infinite Dreams

My eyes are open, but I am dreaming. I am awake, but drifting into the world of what will be. I remain in the same physical state, but mentally I am racing the clock. I run after it, the sensation in my heart extending to my legs. I watch the hand move rapidly from seconds to minutes. Tick-ambition roars within me. Tock-abruptly, I am brought back to reality. My heart rages with a burning passion. The dream-I cannot let it go. It slowly slips through my ﬁngers like the sand in an hourglass. I reach for a pen and paper before it’s gone forever. I write in fury. Tick-I challenge the limitation of time. Tock-I pursue my Great Perhaps. I seize it. I take a deep breath and laugh slightly. Oh, time, so fatuous for believing I would idle.

Philippe de Champaigne Still-Life with a Skull, 1671

4 Untitled

The greatest defeat is losing oneself by succumbing to society's perceptions. Authenticity is obliterated by the desire for supposed perfection. The steady relegation to self-destructive individuality Occurs as one embarks on a path away from originality. The soul is hidden beyond the darkness of social acceptance. Anguish thrives in the soul as one is burdened by expectance. The most dangerous of words are those never said. For one's greatest critic is the voice inside the head- The voice, whose power has been redirected To produce the thoughts that leave one dejected. For the delusions of conformity also sour the soul, A wish for normality fuels overbearing self-control. What once were whispers are now echoing screams "You'll never be good enough. No, it seems." To gaze at one's own reflection arises disgust and denial Of the beauty that rests within that crooked smile. Yes, loving oneself can be a treacherous war- Succumbing to accepting every blemish, every scar. Desperate bellows stifle trembling whispers of regret. Upon the gaze of oneself, one mutters, "Forgive, not forget." These hardships struggled, this division of mind, Bisected now, but unison one shall find. The mind and heart content in accord The love of self eventually restored.

5 Sarah Mason ’18

The Day of Remembrance

It's still clear as a bell in my mind or chocolate chip cookies, The day I went to my grandmother's viewing, or the sweet scent of her perfume I smelled a week after the worst day of my life, when her arms wrapped around me. February 26, And now it was gone. The day my grandmother died unexpectedly So I enter the room, at 11:46 in the morning. but the first thing I see My mother said I didn't have to look at the casket in the classroom-sized room if I didn't want to, is my grandmother which led me to believe it would be a large room, in a pure white casket maybe like a church with blue inner fabric with a large ceiling with a picture of two seagulls, and wide walls, and embroidered in black words was but it was incorrect, "flying home." because the room was no bigger than a classroom. And inside lay my grandmother, I did not want to see my grandmother, in her favorite blue blouse, it would be too much for my ten year old emotions looking almost asleep. to take, That moment is forever burned in my mind. especially since she was the one that really pam- pered me. She gave me porcelain fairies with delicate sparkly wings, she let me put earrings in her ears pair after pair after pair. When my ears were not pierced. After yearning for so long, I was finally the girl she had wanted. She only had brothers, and when she had kids only sons. I was her only girl, and she would bake me sweets, the delicious aromas of a fresh baked pumpkin pie,

6 Shannon Czapla ’16

Moon Galileo's sketch of the moon from Sidereus Nuncius Everything is weightless. Fears, wants, dreams are all lifted. No longer eﬀervescent problems. Gone. Vanished into the crisp air of the moonlit sky. What does it feel like to feel nothing? When your thoughts are no longer tied down by the gravity that holds them to your life-ﬁlled body. Do fears tie us down and hold us back, or do those destructive feelings make us feel alive? Without the gravity of our thoughts, we loose consciousness. Overcoming darkness is our reason for surviving, proof of our humanity. As the weightless moon beneath my feet illuminated the space around me, I lost myself.

Secrets

The mind is vast and ominous, Capable of holding what seems like an unlimited amount of secrets. What is our mind? Unopened doors waiting for us to explore. A never ending hallway of dark thoughts and repressed memories. The hallway leads the way to truth, knowledge the only destination. If given the option to know the truth even if it would only hurt you, Would you still choose to listen? Would you still search for answers to questions that never should have been asked? Is it possible to get lost in your own mind? Will the truth you ﬁnd when unlocking doors cause you to lose the key to escape? Some doors are locked for a reason, But curiosity always kills the cat.

7 Survive

Night is falling and I must hunt. I sense a presence, a human. They are watching me. Why do they do so? The water is brisk. Fish are swimming all around me. If I swim across the river I can escape. Night is falling and I am running out of time. I swim ﬁercely through the water. It glistens in the oncoming moonlight. My body shatters the peace of the water as they shatter the peace of the air. Why do they hunt me? I have done nothing to hurt them. They chase and stalk me until they are ready to kill. They are vicious, merciless when I do not consider them prey. They are cruel animals, but they won't get to me. I am determined I am a survivor I am a tiger

19th-century painting of a tiger by Kuni- yoshi Utagawa

8 Homeless

Where do you go when you have no destination? What do you say when no one knows your name? I shouldn't have tried playing such a dangerous game. What's the point of living, when no one knows your name? What's the point of begging, when people only say, "Oh what a shame." People run past, busy with their lives. All I want is just a second of their time. I want them to know me, to remember my name. I want them to stop to say, "Have a nice day!" Those of us without a place to be are worthless you see. For we do not "ﬁt in" with the rest of this cruel society.

Fears

I hear them in the distance as I wallow in fear. I run and I hide, I pretend not to hear. Some call me mad, but they just don't understand. No one stops to listen, no one lends a hand. They scream at me to turn around, to turn around and see. To see all of the horrors that have always been chasing me. Once I get the courage to look behind and see, I always look to see my own thoughts staring back at me.

9 Nightmare

There was an alley, dimly lit with an ominous tone. I search for them, but they cannot be found. Where did he go? I turn the corner and see shadows. Hear footsteps. The others are coming. Where do I go? Should I turn around to see who is chasing me? Once I see their faces, they will capture me. Enveloped in their horror, I will fall. I run, breathless. They call my name. Screams. I hear the screams of the lost. They are taunting me. I am all that is left now. I must survive, for the lost ones. The ocean is approaching. If I jump, I can escape. I dive into the cool water below and I am free.

10 Kayla Dubose ’16

Nightlife

A dark sky so black it buzzes to life. The sun of the day has lain down to rest. Each snore carries no glory or wife. During the hour the heart beats its best. The owl hoots and the bat’s wings flutter. Many colorful lights illuminate the streets. Vehicles move and honk without stutter. Those should be pitied if under the sheets. Dance and shout! The music is clamorous. Wander free of the burdening tick tocks. Chilled or hot the air can be glamorous. Enjoy the shadows before the star knocks. A single beauty as the face of night. The moon shines more than simply black and white. Francis Kugat–final version of the cover art for the first edition of The Great Gatsby, by F. Scott Fitzgerald

11 A Small Fuzzy Love

My dog is a battery charged with energy.

Like music on Sunday morning she greets me with happy.

Her paws tap my leg as I rub her with awe.

Long leisurely licks

Beg my candy finger tips

For chicken strips.

“Bark!” “Bark!”

I could not deny her another meat munching moment.

As a clock ticks in the night

The treat is devoured in two bites.

Tokyo’s fur settles in her doggie bed.

Those brown eyes are lightning bugs.

They gray coat dashed madly from the cushion.

A rubber chicken toy was now in her head.

Tiny steps and short legs brought it to my side.

The simple touch of Tokyo’s wet nose

Evoked a smile I could not hide.

Edinburgh, Scotland: Statue of Greyfriars Bobby

12 Yasmine Bailey ’16

Dreams

Daring

Realistic

Eerie

Adventures

Mesmerizing

Simple

Jacob's dream of a ladder of angels, c. 1690, by Michael Willmann

13 Madison Norman ’16

Adventure Awaits

I see the cover, vivid and exciting Well-worn with use I run my hand along the spine Open the cover Flip through all the pages I catch the sweet smell of paper I hear the whoosh of the pages calling to me Tales of victory and sadness ﬁll my ears Eyes devouring words Pages turning The story unfolding The story plays in my mind A movie I have seen time after time But I never tire of watching My emotions rise and fall with those of the hero “One More Step, Mr. Hands” by N.C. Wyeth, 1911, for Treas- Every victory won, a page conquered ure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson. Every character lost, a comrade lost When the story ends It's like saying goodbye to an old friend

14 Gordon Robinson, illustration from Alice’s Adven- The Pocket Watch tures in Wonderland, 1916 Edition Late, late, late Always running late I feel like I'm always playing catch up Constantly behind The clock ticks by Tick tick, spit spot I'm chasing the hands of time Every chime ﬁlls me with fear Another day, another weak, another year I need time Hickory, dickory, dock Madison sprints down the clock Always running Even when I've caught up I'm still running to stay ahead Leaping, lunging, until ﬁnally STOP, CRASH, CLANG

15 Olivia Sears ’16

Mother Earth

Earth, so beautiful and alive with glee

The land rises and falls and curves with grace

The art of nature is so wild and free

Magniﬁcent birds soar from place to place

Water cascades and wind billows gently

The trees whisper secrets to each other

The ﬂowers bloom and blossom a plenty

I call out and praise the great earth mother

Small, woodland animals scatter about

Dry, arid deserts and forests of rain

Mountains rise up and seas extend far out

It's magic and life – I cannot explain

Oh, Earth is all this beauty as it seems?

For, it's far more brilliant than all my dreams

16 The Weeping Earth

The rain patters on the roof

Tiny droplets form on the windowpane

I feel like a child,

Watching them race to reach the windowsill,

Creating tiny puddles on the ledge

Mysterious, gray clouds hover over the earth

A majestic arrangement of shapes and sizes

Oh, I love the rain –

The smell & feeling

Of the dreary, cozy atmosphere

I sit,

Watching the earth as it weeps...

How beautifully the earth weeps –

Tears of sadness

Tears of joy

Drip, drop

It falls –

Steady, still

Like a painting, frozen in time

So peaceful

I sigh

My eyes, heavy with content

Slowly

Drift

And all is gone.

"Rain-on-Thassos" by Edal Anton Lefterov - Own work. Licensed under CC BY- SA 3.0 via Wikimedia Commons

17 Untitled concrete poem

18 Anonymous

Tsukioka Yoshitoshi - Yoshitoshi ryakuga - The famous Kyoto artist Maruyama Okyo The Following Poems are about fear. was well known for his true-to-life paintings. It was said that his ﬂower paintings The authors, all from the class of 2018, were so real that bees tried to pollinate have chosen to remain anonymous. them. Another story, illustrated by this print by Yoshitoshi, tells of the time Okyo painted a ghost so "realistically" that it came to life and frightened him. -

19 Untitled

I believe, that to some degree, Everyone has a fear of obscurity. Some pursue fame outright, While others more subtly try to attain the limelight. Of 7 billion, each of us is only one, And most never achieve recognition before our time is done. It is my phobia, that I forever remain a face in the crowd, And to be hidden in the average, every day shroud.

Fear

There might be a day when my eyes aren't happy anymore. I fear such a day. I won't see the sun in them like I used to. I won't see the moon either. I won't see swirls of stars and wonderful lights that drip together like paint. There used to be delicately sketched can- vases in my eyes. There used to be diamonds and ink. Now all they might be is cloudy glass and myself, I'm afraid.

Edvard Munch–The Dance of Life. Nasjonalgalleriet, Oslo

20 My phobia Scene from F. W. Murnau's Nosferatu, 1922 They lurk around on Halloween night Around every corner in the dark They sneak behind you before they bite Vampires terrorize my mind When I sit alone at night The dark lurks through my mind Images of ghosts appear Suddenly I'm ﬁlled with fright A single monster is not scary I guess it's an image of a haunted house Monsters screech and pop out Causing me to stop and scream Finding a way out is key But it is not simple for me Every corner has a fright It keeps me there all night

21 My phobia

I'm scared to lose my brother, I'm scared we’ll grow apart, But I know we’ll always be in each other's heart, I wish I could turn back the clocks, So I could again watch him eat his socks, Today he's turning ﬁve, Soon he'll be able to drive, I'm scared to think that Austin, May one day move to Boston, I'm scared to lose my brother, He can be such a bother, When he shouts and he hollers, But when he's all grown up, I'll be sure to wish him luck, I don't think I'm the only one to say, That I can sure wait for that day, For now I'm happy to play with a ninja turtle toy, Because I sure do love that turtle-loving boy, I'm scared to lose my brother, But I don’t think that day will come, A painting of brothers Prince Because all he wants to do is sit and play his drums. Edward V of England and Prince Richard of Shrewsbury, 1st Duke of York.

22 2 Joanna Kouloheras ’18 Stories Untitled Kayla Dubose ’16

Just Keep Swimming “You have to try these great crab cakes I He was always seated in my grandma’s had the other day! Head over to Duffy’s. kitchen, where warmth hugged his body The chef over there, Willie, makes the best and the scent of moth balls clogged his crab cakes you will ever taste,” boasted nose. The laughter erupted from his the man on the radio. What was his secret throat, a smile stretched his loose skin, to making his food so delectable? Willie, thick hide coated his hands like leather the chef, used an eloquent combination of gloves, and his jolly belly rested on his legs seasonings, a flawless technique of prepar- whenever he sat in his chair at grandma’s ing ingredients, and harbored a selective kitchen table. He often sat in another chair taste for flavor. However, none of these in an all-white long hallway that reeked of qualities made his food as tasty as it usu- urine. There is a time for everything, even ally was. letting go. In moving from one home to another, one makes room for something new A single bite of one of his crab cakes auto- by getting rid of the old. matically triggers the on come of drool. This was the laughter he let free. The As a young man, my grandfather, Willie tongue dances the tango of seasonings re- moved from the South up to Maryland with leased in between every chew, where new my grandmother. In 2004 one grand ball- juices of flavor flood the taste buds and ex- room was filled with my granddaddy’s sib- plode within the mouth another series of lings and cousins from his homeland and wonder. This was the grin he could never beyond. The DuBose family all gathered deny. Any chef can make tasty food using around for a night of celebration in unity of technique and special ingredients, but Wil- one another. The dim lighting reflected off lie made it exquisite with his mere charac- of the shiny gowns and ties. With every ter. breath a new combination of colognes and foods overwhelmed the senses.

24 The dance floor was warmed at the fresh that matter. He had forgotten his recipe. steps of the Cupid shuffle. A heat that radi- The pieces began to fall away. Apparently ated around the room, energizing the hum they had gone wherever the missing of conversation dribbling under the music. shrimp were to be found. The round tables seated the kindred in Everyone else thought it was insignificant need of rekindling where they feasted on enough to be worthy of forgetting. Little the delights of various small dishes. Of did they know that granddaddy com- course a predicted highlight of the event menced a private investigation of his own. was a dish by Willie, who prepared his re- He spent many hours, which translated to nowned seafood casserole. People years, calculating and revising his memo- rushed to ensure a piece for themselves, ries. Every flash of the past brought on a excitedly awaiting the rush of tingling fla- new clue, but over more time he lost track vors they were sure it would bring. of it and had to start again. Granddaddy traveled as far into his own thoughts as his The lucky few capable of nabbing a piece anatomy would allow. sloshed around every bite in an effort to sa- vor its essence. The savoring quickly After such a long time he became im- turned into a search which soon climaxed mersed in the habit. He lost his appetite to a long journey. Until it was finally discov- within the time to an unknown crevice of ered that there were not any shrimp in the the brain. Willie didn’t fill the room with seafood casserole. Although they are tiny laughter or smiles while he investigated. fish, their presence was crucial in this dish. His discretion between fiction and fantasy Each little body made a person’s mouth as well as reality and memory grew less water a tad bit more. distinct as his senses further distorted. On a spring day he suddenly decided it Anyone who was ever had Willie’s casse- was time to make his first active move to- role knows that he puts just the right wards solving the case. One sneakered amount of shrimp inside of it. He had no foot after the other rolled off of the ground explanation for what he did or didn’t do for as they carried him to Northern Parkway.

25 The sun colored in the buildings, while the stood at the bleak corner with those breeze blew ﬂeecy air around the trees. leather gloves at his sides and his shoulders slouched inward. He did not look any- My phone rang. where, he only existed in that lone spot awaiting those shrimp. He stood in the “Kayla, your grandfather is missing,” my same way he sat, looking at nothing with dad spoke solemnly through the phone. his leather gloves at his sides and his My heart ﬂuttered around in my chest. shoulders folding in.

“Where could he be?” I earnestly inquired. His clothes were made a matching set of My dad explained that he had left over-washed cotton. They sagged on his grandma’s house earlier in the day, and no boney body, which only gave him the sup- one had seen him. He could have been port of holding his head slightly up. He sharing a cardboard box with a homeless couldn’t see what was happening around person for all anyone knew. I wanted them him. All he knew were his memories, but to find him, and I prayed that he wasn’t even they began to swim away just like the hurt. I sat at my window chewing on the shrimp at the family reunion. Willie trav- flesh of my fingers. I wondered if he would eled further in his mind to look for what he find what he was looking for and simply go lost, but with every step he lost a little bit back home. Hours later the phone rang more. again. The time came where there was nothing “Yeah, I found him standing in front of the left, not even a chuckle. His eyes could CVS,” my dad said. His first trip wasn’t not tell of a purpose, or even a look. He the last. Those shrimp weren’t going to es- sat in that all-white reeking hallway trying cape him that easily. He was reaching for to use movements that were barely move- something. I rode with my dad once to get ments at all, but fidgets. He was still trying him after he disappeared on an escapade. to reach for those shrimp even though he didn’t even remember what shrimp were The warm sun outlined his figure on the anymore. Seated in that reeking hallway sidewalk in unweathering detail. His de- or standing in front of the CVS was not my flated abdomen was the cause of his granddaddy. drooping shirt and wrapped-tight belt. He

26 That man didn’t know how to cook; his It hurt even worse waiting for him to move food tasted bleak. That man didn’t call me on, because he wasn’t getting any better. I “Kayda” or give me money whenever he never wanted to let go, but I knew that I saw me. This was a man who thought the would have to. When the time came, I television remote was a telephone, and wasn’t ready, but gradually, I was able to couldn’t stretch a smile to laugh about the accept my grandfather’s journey. This is a mistake he had made. My grandfather time to let go and that relief only makes was a man like no other I had ever met, room for something to grow in its place. but for a while we were strangers. It broke my heart knowing that he would never remember me or even his son, my father, again.

Joanna Kouloheras ’18 untitled 27 Ally Lanasa ’16

Live in the Present, Live for the Future

1965, Derbyshire, England Her eyes contain all the light in the world. For my dear Eleanor’s radiance does not dim from the illness that has seized her petite ﬁgure. Her eyes glimmer against her graying skin resembling the silver glow of the moon in the evening sky. She looks at me, her eyes illuminating her youthful face. A hope sparks within me, a hope that she will recover. The doctors discourage such a hope, but those eyes keep me optimistic.

English Couple in the Rain, 1963

28 “Dom, do you remember when we met?” “My apologies. I’m Dominic Alexander.” I extended my hand. She rested her hand over mine as she smiles. “It’s alright. I’m Eleanor, Eleanor Thomas. I admire my beautiful wife and whis- It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She reached per, “Of course, darling.” down to shake my hand, dangling from the . . . ladder with the other. It was 431 days before. I walked into “Same to you,” I replied. the library of the Chatsworth House, escap- ing the University tour. I decided to take a I stared into her eyes, a miraculously gander around the House, arriving at the ocean blue. The corners of her eyes doors of the library. I opened and closed creased joyfully. She smiled more with her the door behind me quietly. I admired the eyes than with her teeth. Her pale lips lined ornate ceiling, the architecture, the dark slightly into a grin. Her cheeks blushed wood paneling. Chandeliers hung above with a faint red, enhancing her cheek the bookshelves. I followed the rows of bones. books, running my hands over the spines. “Are you abandoning the tour?” She ques- The spines were the colors of fall-hunter tioned. green, dark reds, browns- and tattered with age. There were hundreds of shelves, I nodded, “The guide is a dimwit. I towering over me, which contained mil- thought I’d go on a quest of my own for ex- lions of pages of British literature. citement. I believe I’ve found it.” Towards the opposite end of the li- “Indeed. This is my favorite room for ‘a brary, there was a young girl about my room without books is a body without a age, climbing a ladder to reach the top soul’. Have you heard that? My uncle told shelf of literary work. me that on my ﬁrst tour of the House. It’s his most prized room.” “Hello,” I said. “Oh, God,” I covered my mouth. “My apolo- “Crikey!” She gasped. gies once more. I’m the dimwit.” “Don’t apologize. He intends to be a bore “You gave me quite a fright!” She laughed so you won’t return.” She laughed once slightly, brilliantly. more as she walked down the rows of books.

29 “Do you want to know what I love the vorite. A vase of wilting peonies had been most?” She asked me. resting on the windowsill of the library. El- “I do.” eanor had expressed her need to replace She walked over to the globe, spun it, those in the vase to liven the massive then continued walking throughout the li- room. brary. I followed her as she began speak- "Oh, Dominic. Cheers." She kissed my ing. cheek. “How intact I feel with reality. My voice ech- She took my hand, guiding me oes off the walls and book bindings. The throughout the library. She filled a vase massive openness of the area reminds me with the flowers and water. Her favorite of how small I am. I’m only one particle of scent, she explained, was the sweet per- the Earth. We tend to idolize ourselves as fume of peonies blended with the aroma of human beings, but on the scale of life we book pages. "I wonder why no one ever are practically insignificant. It’s when we bothered to bottle it. I would." She had come together that we become relevant. I pondered aloud. find that comforting. Odd, isn’t it? You can She beckoned me then to follow her admit it. It frightens some, but for me it’s down the rows of books. quite the opposite. The fact that if I mess "What's your favorite genre and why?" up, so what? The world doesn’t end. Now, "Historical Nonfiction. The past intrigues don’t you feel slightly more confident to me." take risks?” "How so?" In that moment, I fancied her greatly. "The past foreshadows the future." . . . "Interesting. I prefer to live in the present." To stifle the sterile aroma of the hospi- "Why?" tal, I recall how I became acquainted with "Well, take this moment for example. I'm what I perceive to be the most perfect es- entirely here in this library with you and sence of this Earth, a fragrance my dear El- there is nowhere else I would rather be.” eanor left behind her every step...... “What are you pondering over?” El ques- It was 416 days before. I arrived at tions me. the House, flowers in hand- peonies to be “History. Our history.” exact, the flowers I discovered were her fa-

30 “You’ve always been so infatuated with able to cease the grave force overstraining the past.” Her tone revealing her slight dis- her. appointment. I shrug in response. It was 56 days before. Eleanor began “Do me a favor.” coughing, hoarsely and consistently. She “Of course, anything.” suddenly became short of breath from mini- “Be present. Be entirely here with me in mal activity. Her fatigue increased exces- this moment.” sively. Her bones were achy. She caught I nod, reaching for her hand. pneumonia repeatedly, but her symptoms Eleanor squeezed mine gently before seemed worse than a reoccurring illness. closing her eyes. Since her diagnosis she It was 24 days before. Eleanor was im- has been quite reserved. When her breath- mediately admitted to the hospital after being becomes deep and steady, I return to ing diagnosed with lung cancer. The doc- my thoughts. tors’ explanation of the severity was dis- . . . concerting. I was wary, but the light in Elea- It was 92 days before. We were mar- nor’s eyes never dimmed. ried at the Chatsworth House. Eleanor That night and many of the following I wore a magniﬁcent, pure white, lace would lie awake to El’s coughing. My wife gown. Her train extended several feet be- of merely three months was gravely ill. She hind her. I lifted her veil to reveal her eyes. slept often and was taciturn when awake. They glistened with blue as if they con- In those moments of silence I practically tained a sample of the ocean. She smiled heard her limited time ticking by. I was radiantly, her teeth displayed. breathless as well. I made a vow in that moment to love . . . her and support her through trials and tribu- “I love you, Eleanor Alexander.” lations. I vowed to protect her from danger “I love you... Dominic…Alexander.” She re- and to assist her when she became ill. I plies breathily. vowed to love her throughout all the obsta- Within the hour, Eleanor takes her last cles we would face. breath. As she closes her eyes, my world I was well aware that I could love her goes dark. deeply and madly, but I never imagined how agonizing loving her could be. I never fathomed being unable to protect her, un-

31 I cannot think of the past, nor can I an- ticipate the future. I am entirely present in this moment. However, I would rather be somewhere else. I would rather be with El- eanor. In this moment, I faintly hear: “The future lies before you. Embrace it. Promise me you will.” It is Eleanor’s voice.

32 India Pinnock ’17

Laszlo Mednyanszky – Sitting Tramp 1906-10" oil on Canvas, location: Hungarian National The Man Without an Abode Gallery, Budapest, Hungary.

I myself have always cast an eye past Whether their past may hold injustices or those who stand at a less fortunate stat- perhaps substance abuse, no one should ure. But then again, who has not? We all deserve to live upon the side of the street merely dismiss those who sit upon the and contemplate if they may gain a morsel street curb with signs of scribbled distress to eat the next day. and long faces permanently etched with despair. They are nothing to us. We oﬀer I have never felt such strong feelings upon them simple coins (though in most cases, this matter before until one particular eve- the average man turns their nose up to ning, upon approaching a convenience them in blatant disrespect) because we store. A man (who appeared to be some- feel such small amounts of pity. what young) was stationed by the waste

33 bin in an feeble attempt to warm himself. Later within the night he continually He managed to fend off some of the blister- crossed my mind, especially the image of ing cold with a thick coat, but I could still his eyes. I found myself soon drowning in manage to tell he was suffering from the a sea of emotions, and I couldn't manage dropping temperatures. Bags under his to escape. I was so very moved by this vi- eyes, pupils as black as the never ending sion that I was brought to tears. I desired void known as space. If my memory to know his story; what had happened to serves me correctly, his face was triangu- place this man in the open world without a lar, with a fairly sharp chin. He had no fa- roof over his skull? On my daily outings I cial hair. Perhaps he had not long been notice these people more often. I see their dwelling in the streets, as he seemed not sullen faces, the scraggly clothes upon to be accustomed to the manner of life. their backs. I ponder their stories. Their lives. Their ever uncertain futures. If one I had a few brief moments to survey his be- were to drop dead on the concrete ground, havior. His gaze flitted to and fro, often set- would anyone pay mind? Or would they ting to watch the people who would walk merely cast their eyes past them as if they in and out of the store with envy. I could were nothing more than the rustle of a tree. read what he was thinking. The people re- fused to acknowledge his presence, but I know very well they knew he sat there. He was just another lonesome failure that struggled to survive on the streets, to these people of high fortune. A ‘hobo,’ as the degrading term so often used is called. I managed to catch his stare for a few moments, and something struck me. He was such a distraught soul, angered and frightened.

34 Sarah Mason ’18

Sir Joshua Reynolds– Two Girls, One Playing with a Mask, detail from the painting The Fourth Duke of Marlbor- ough and his family, 1777-78 Changing Status Quo

Elise Today is gonna be another great day, I "Laura! How many times do I have to tell know it. When my light ﬂicks on, I leap up you?! Syrup, then sugar, NOT the other and get dressed in my designer dress and way around!" wait for Laura to make me breakfast. In the "Elise, I've told you to call me mom, but meantime, I brush my red hair to make you don't listen to that! But you have to be sure it looks perfect and brush my per- at the bus stop in ﬁve minutes, so eat it fectly straight and white teeth. Laura calls anyways!" me in for breakfast. What I see is totally un- I decide this should be one of the times I acceptable. listen. I eat it, but the French toast doesn't taste the same. I go outside and sit out front. The bus always picks me up spe-

35 cially outside my house so I don't have to jeans and a random t shirt from the ham- go through the hard labor of walking the per. I quickly pull my blonde hair up in a po- long block to the bus stop. The bus pulls nytail and quickly brush my teeth, which up and I climb in. I go to sit down in my are slightly stained and being straightened usual spot, but another kid is sitting there. with braces. I go out to the kitchen and This won't fly! throw a piece of bread in the toaster. By "You're in my spot." the time I come back with my books, the "You can't make me move. I was here bead is now toast, so I take it from the first." toaster and eat it on the ten block walk to I lean over her. "I can make your life miser- the bus stop. That's not too bad. able. I am Elise Olsen. The most popular I fight my way onto the bus along with all girl in school!" I glare at her and put my of the other kids and take the first seat I hands on my hips, looking very intimidat- see. The bus then stops in front of a three ing. She cringes, gets up and moves to an- story house with beautiful glass doors. A other seat whimpering. I sit down and girl climbs on from her driveway. That's not smile at all of my friends, but glare at the fair, considering the next stop is one block others. They are in no way equal to me. I away! She stops at the seat I'm sitting in. need to find a school where everyone is as "You're in my spot." cool as me. Everyone else here are losers, Oh great. Another girl that thinks she rules except for Hannah and Kya. They are the the school. "You can't make me move. I only ones close to my coolness. The rest was here first. She gives me a look that don't even deserve to go to the same really makes her look pathetic. I decide to school I go to, or attend the same classes! appease her and act like she scared me I get to school and everyone lets me get and wedged myself out and into another off first like always. I snort at the girl that seat. was in my seat as I pass her. I hate how these girls think that wearing pretty clothes and having nice things gets Josie you everywhere in life. To add to it, they I wake up in the morning and groan. Today think they're so much better than everyone is going to be a terrible day, just like al- else, so much prettier, so much cooler. But ways. Especially since mom made me they really need to change their status transfer schools. I swing my legs over and quo, then maybe they'd realize all the pain force myself to stand. I pull on my ripped they've caused, all of the people they've

36 hurt. When we get to school the girl glares Josie at me as she gets off. I just roll my eyes I push my way into school and go to my and fight my way off the bus after princess locker room. I see a group of people hud- prissy pants gets off and into school. dled around the row of lockers mine is lo- cated in. I hope nothing bad happened! Elise Then I see princess prissy pants at her I go to the locker room and get to my row. locker. She has these people wrapped I stare for a minute. Then right on queue, around her finger! Well, she won't get to people close their lockers and step out for me! I go to my locker anyways. She looks me. I walk to my locker and open it up. taken aback and glares. I roll my eyes and Then that girl from before pushes past me she seems disturbed. She gives me that to get to her locker. The nerve of her!!! I de- pathetic look again. But I'm not going to serve to be the only one in the row. She run and cower in rear this time. "You know, puts her books in her locker and looks at I'm not scared of you. I'll stand up to you!" her schedule. She's a newbie! Well, that I say firmly and stand to meet her level. I'm makes no difference. I glare at her and not going to let her push me around like what she does appals me. She rooks her everyone else. Someone's gotta stand up eyes at me! The nerve of her! I close my to a bully, and that's just gonna have to be locker, stand over her and give her the me. But apparently, this bully doesn't call same look I did before that scared her off. quits that easy. She shoves me down and "You know, I'm not scared of you. I'll stand makes me hit my head on my locker. I up to you." She stands up. groan as I hear many other loud thuds. That's the last straw. I shove her and hear Then all of the text books that remained in a loud bang of a locker and a groan. I my backpack came crashing down on me. reach into her locker, take her books out I look up and see the girl flip her hair in a and throw them all over. I then dump out way that really makes her look stupid and her book bag on top of her, lying on the walks away. To make matters worse, every- floor holding her head. I then flip my long one floods back into the row, stepping all hair in a super attractive way and walk out over me and the books she had spilled all with my books, looking stunning for my over the floor. I can barely stand up as I audience. gather my things and limp to the bath- room.

37 Elise Josie I see her come into literature first period, I go into literature and see the red haired covered in bandages. Well, that's what she bully. I don't think much of her. Before I gets for being mean to me. She sits down really get settled, the teacher calls me up and doesn't look at me, which is the way it in front of the class. I say things such as should be. She shouldn't be allowed near my favorite color and foods and stuff, and me. I take out my phone and start playing obviously my name. Someone asks me temple run on it under the desk. No one how I got hurt. Time for some quick think- else does, except Hannah and Kya. We are ing. Life is to short to hold grudges. I have the only ones cool enough. The teacher an- to let it go. She hurt me, and it's done and nounces we have a new student, well, I over with. "I fell down the stairs," I say know her well enough already. Mr. Harper plainly, and it seems real. I look to the girl has her stand up in front of the class. I and see a surprised look on her face. She only listen for her name. I figure out its Jo- can no longer make eye contact with me sie. But one more thing sticks out to me. and looks away. So it looks like she does When someone asks about her injuries, have feelings for others. she says she fell down the stairs. That's "Elise! Put your phone away!" I hear Mr. not what happened at all. I mentally gasp Harper yell. in realization. She lied, to protect me! Well, "Yes, Mr. Harper, I'm sorry." I could easily get out of trouble anyways, I smile. Maybe I'm starting to get to her. I but why would she do that? I feel a small want her to start having feelings for others, pain inside, something I've never felt be- and I really pity her. What she doesn't real- fore. I try to think of what is and then I dis- ize is people are scared of her, and I don't cover what it is. It's guilt. I try to push it want her too realize it too late. I vow that I down deep inside; I can't let a loser like will make her see how others see her. I that get the best of me! don't care if she hurts me more or not. "Elise! Put your phone away!" Lost in thought I say, "Yes, Mr. Harper, I'm sorry." And put my phone in my bag. I hear some people gasp. I don't like this, and I vow, I will find something that Josie loves and destroy it. I don't care if she's trying to be nice or not!

38 Elise. "Yea. See you around." Hannah says and I keep seeing Josie all day. And the next. walks off with Kya in tow. And the next. She always takes to me, I humph and walk past the art room. I see which is a crime in itself, but what she's Josie talking to a teacher. The teacher saying keeps leaving knots in my stomach, doesn't look happy at all. "You see Mrs. like she's stealing her popularity for her- Patterson, my dad thought it was just an- self! She says that people are scared of other one of my pointless drawings clutter- me, and that I should be nicer. What is she ing the house, and he put it in the shred- talking about, I am nice! Well, I found that der." Josie likes art. I see her walking to art "Well Josie, I have to give you no credit." class with a drawing and I walk over to her. I feel the pain again only worse. It's like a "Why are you talking to me?" wall has been lifted from my eyes. I see I "Because I need you to understand how have been mean, and especially to Josie, your making others feel!" who was trying to help me see it! And I see "Yea! I already know! Envy!" why Hannah and Kya left me. I run into the "No, Elise, they feel fear! You threaten room. "No, give Josie another chance! It them and they follow you and do your will was me, I tore it up, and she didn't fall because they are scared of you!" down the stairs, I threw her books all over That was it. I've had enough of her, so I her!" take her drawing and rip it to tiny shreds I see Josie smile. "We'll, Miss Elise, you and throw it in her face. As the pieces flut- have detention with me after school." She ter to the ground, she looked incredibly leaves the room, leaving me alone with the hurt. Good. She runs off in tears, past Han- grinning Josie. nah and Kya, who watched the whole "You finally saw what was wrong." scene unfold. They come over with dour "I did, and I feel terrible! I'm so sorry Jo- looks on their faces. "Elise, we can't do sie!" this anymore," Hannah says sadly. "Thank you, and it's ok. But I'm not the "Yea...you've become too mean!" Kya only one you should apologize to." adds. "I agree. I will." "I'm not mean! I'm popular!" "Good." Josie turns to leave the room. "Yes, but being popular isn't always being "And Josie?" nice," Kya says back. She turns. "Yes?" "Thank you."