"Jane's Birds" by Sara Cuse

Tissues, hot tears, gentle chokes of words never said and gratitude never given.

I was a mess.

We left that Friday night. The ride was long, but the sobs remained muted in lieu of the laughs and memories filling the car. It was March. Chilly still- Pennsylvania weather. The salt on the ground let out a satisfying crunch as we made our way out from the enclosed doors of our newfound safe haven into the wind and bite of a reunion no one wanted to attend.

My flats chewed at my ankle until it was red and raw– such a perfect state of miserable for the weekend ahead. The gentle crunch of snow and ice and weather came to a stop as we stepped up the wooden staircase and through posts large enough to hold the sky. The house lights created a dim glow on our faces as we crawled inch by inch to the wooden door with an elegant doorknob. A man welcomed us in, dressed in black, asked to take our coats. I left my phone in my pocket; I would not be needing it, nor did I have pockets in my dress. To the left of the doorway was a massive coat closet. It makes sense. This place can never be continuously busy, yet when the time comes I imagine hundreds can flood those this heavy door. It is a small town, after all.

To the right was an office, and before me a staircase. No stairs for this event. With townspeople as old as the revolution and families as swollen and stagnant as these, the upstairs was left vacant. Dry smiles and wet eyes emerged as a result of our arrival. We were lead down a hallway into a room- sans windows- filled to the brim with flowers of every kind and windchimes. I scanned the room for birds, birdhouses, feathers, trees, anything. Nothing.

.  .  .

Saturday morning was not anticipated. This Saturday morning.

What were we doing here?

We got there early, as expected. 12 feet shuffled into the massive doorway once again, greeted by the man doorman, same suit, same broken smile from too many years of seeing melancholy into this house. The windowless room was dimmed; there were rows of chairs set up facing the back of the room.

There she was: hair curled, best blouse, color in her cheeks I had never seen before. Her wedding rings sparkled in the spotlight shining down onto her like she was an angel. She was an angel.

Family and friends from far away and far too close trickled in. Empty pleasantries. I did not know any of them, but they all knew about me. I sat down in an empty chair, of course in the front row, to take it all in. I watched every person march down the aisle and shake hands, sorrow on their faces. They all knew her. They all knew me. This town was as tightly knit as her favorite sweater, the one with flowers and birds on it. Nobody skipped a beat.

Things eventually quieted down. People took their seat; mine next to me and theirs next to theirs. The man in black stood before us, books in hand, heart on his sleeve. He started to speak. Each word made the pool in my eyes grow until it was an ocean, overflowing with sentiment and memories. The looks around the room made my heart heavier with every nose blown and tear wiped. He sat down and welcomed another up, from the front row of course. She read us poems and reminisced on their time together, their time apart, and all the time in between. I listened patiently with intense ears and a growing need to soak in every recollection. I tried to pair the two together: what I knew and what I was learning.

We made our rounds from the back of the room to the crowds of people to the sofa chairs surrounding the television. A slideshow of pictures played, all of them showcasing happier times and sunnier days. I cannot say I recognized the lady in those pictures, grin as wide as the sun and eyes twinkling with humor. I saw her as a young lady, as a mother. That smile never faltered, but it was a smile I did not know, a smile that was not familiar to me. I saw her with her friends, sat at the table with cookies or drinks or kids. I saw her with her kids, too. In church, at school, at home: next to the fireplace, the big couch, the bay window that seemed all too foreign to me now. I circled the room, conversation to conversation, picking up bits and pieces of a woman so renowned yet so distant from me.

I tried to recall her smile– in the last few years. It had an unapologetic, almost childlike amusement to it. I could picture her eyes staring up at me: dainty, but a blue the color of the ocean. The laugh lines spoke almost as much as she did, never quiet, never holding back.

I found myself going back to the slideshow. The pictures of days this town chose to remember, to cling to. I never knew the woman in these pictures, but everyone else did. They knew me, they knew her, I was the one out of my element. It was a small town, after all.

People began to file out. One could only spend so many hours in that room, no matter how dressed up with flowers. Soon it was just us, our 12 feet standing before the spotlight, silence. Hands rubbed my back from hugs not long enough and tears stained my shoulder, mine or not. 8 feet made their way towards the hallway, the office, the grand doorway. 4 feet stood before the flowers, the lights, the perfect lipstick and sparkly earrings and eyes closed. My eyes closed. Tears travelled down my cheeks to my chin, down my neck to my sweater. Pennsylvania weather. She looked peaceful, no grin plastered that I did not recognize, but a blank expression, a humbled expression. Only one light remained in the dim, now dark room. The shined white reflected, illuminating my flats, my dress, her belongings. I was handed her bracelet, the one I made her, the one she kept at her bedside, no matter where she was living. Ribbon and beads. Flower beads. Purple. I wiped the remaining tears from my ducts and placed it right next to her. Side by side, now forever.

I was not okay.

My eyes made their last rounds. Her face, her bed, the flowers. By her feet sat a bouquet- roses and buds and ribbon.

And attached to that beautiful bouquet, all those vibrant flowers reminding us all what she was not anymore, was a purple pastel ribbon, thick enough to allow us to see the writing from the back of the tight, yellow room.

Grammy Jane.

"The Girl of My Dreams" by Supreme Patty

Before we begin, let me provide you with some context to who I am. My name is Supreme Patty. I’m a student at Herndon High School. I’m not the best looking guy, but I think my crappy jokes make up for that. I’ve never really been into dating, and no girl ever caught my attention, but during my junior year, something changed. I can’t explain it, but something was different about this specific girl. I know that sounds like a cliche, but she just made me happy. Also, yes I know, I’m a high schooler, and I'm pretty much saying I’ve found the “girl-of-my-dreams,” but in this very moment of time, I’m speaking from my heart and living by the motto that “life is too short not to be happy.”

I was 16-years-old when I met my first love. As young as I was, I was desperate and would have taken anyone or anything that showed me an ounce of passion. Nevertheless, I became obsessed with this specific girl. I met her in my Physics class; she had a perfect smile, rich golden hair, and a laugh which captivated me, and I got to see her every “black-day” during 8th period.

It was the night of my junior prom. I was sitting with my schoolmates at a large roundtable, each one accompanied by their date. When the slow-dance music began to play, everyone began to make their way to the dance-floor. The table suddenly was empty, and I was alone. Then, I looked up and saw her sitting alone at a nearby table. It was my golden opportunity. I got up and worked up the nerve to approach her. I began to feel anxious as I drew nearer to her, my knees started to feel weak, and my arms began to feel heavy.

"Hey ...", I choked. She didn’t respond. I should have construed that as the first sign of rejection. She turned her head without twisting her body and replied: "Hey ... what's up?." I asked, "would you like to dance with me?" I asked as I extended a hand towards her. Deep down I was thinking "did I just do that?" She captivated me with her beautiful smile and took my hand. She guided me to the middle of the room where all the students were dancing, and I staggered, mentally and physically. I wasn’t a bad dancer, but her presence turned my feet to boulders. "Why did you wait so long to ask?" she asked. I stared into her green eyes and said: "Whenever I saw you, you paralyzed me with your beauty."(Wow that was corny). She smiled and placed her head on my shoulder.

When the song ended, she turned around and slowly walked back to a table in the far west end of the ballroom.  She sat down and took out her phone. I remained where she had left me, in the middle of the dance floor. When she noticed that I was clueless, she motioned towards me to come and sit down. I sat down next to her, and I pulled out my iPhone to see that it was 12:30 AM. I asked her if she would like a ride home, and she responded: “I would.” Once I reached her house, I felt I was on Cloud 9. I said “I had fun” and then she began to lean towar-

Then it happened. I woke up and found myself sitting in my Physics class, with my head pushed face-first against the table. “She” had woken me up because she didn’t want me to get into trouble with our teacher. I appreciated it and said thanks. Ever since that day, i’ve been at a loss of words whenever I see her. I was upset that day, asking myself “why couldn’t it have been real.”

Junior prom is coming up in two months and from my experience reality never lives up to expectations. But, hopefully, this time it will. :)

"Seltzer Water" by Sweet Tea

Today I am going to discuss the benefits of sparkling water; also known commonly as fizzy water, or seltzer. But, my friends have acquired a whole new nickname for this bubbly sensation. They call it “sin water”. I am here today to dispel the myths about sparkling water and redeem its place in the ladder of drinks. The seltzer that I drink most often is Wegmans’ brand seltzer; with the flavor, “lime”. This is not the only brand of seltzer that is put out there for the common public. There is La croix, and San Pellegrino. However, these are brands that do not have much taste. It is not a secret that most sparkling water has a more bland taste, with the fizziness being the prime factor. This seems to be why most people do not like it. They believe that the fizziness overpowers the flavor of the lime, or any fruit.

Another reason that people do not enjoy sparkling water, is that it can seem like soda, but then fakes you out, and is not. “It’s almost bitter, and tasteless”- (Michelle Tran). “It feels weird in my mouth” (Guru Fateh Khalsa). “Why- why would you drink it, when you could drink soda” (Jawad Khan).

As you can see, most people have a problem with it, just because it has no taste. What doesn’t occur to the common folk is that they can change the flavor. With things such as Mio drops, they can alter the taste of regular water, which, seltzer is. Also, there are other flavors and brands of sparkling water that most people do not know exist. These brands, such as Zero, or Ice. They are, in fact, sparkling water brands. They are, seltzer. They are just more flavorful seltzer. This is a very humorous trend, as most people consider it soda, when in fact, it is sparkling water. Just because something is flavored, does not change the fact that it is a particular substance.

Another reason why sparkling water is not “sin water”, is because it has many health benefits, especially for women. Some benefits include better calcium retention, and no negative effects on bone health; in fact, research has been done to show that carbonated water can actually improve bone health. From Harvard University, it was proven that carbonated water was associated with having more Bone Mass Density (BMD), than caffeinated drinks such as soda. People who drank caffeine (in this case, Coca Cola), were shown to have a lower BMD than the people who drank seltzer.

In conclusion, the people who drank seltzer for 8 weeks were compared to other people drinking non-carbonated water, and the urine test came out the same, so, seltzer water is a healthier alternative to soda, and can make you healthy and strong. In conclusion, Sparkling water is a staple drink in many communities, and should be regarded as the wonderful, fizzy, drink that it is. It is not sin water, and some people should check their facts, before they assume.

"Arnold Learns Something New" by Hepatica

Arnold the Avocado was the friendliest vegetable in the produce aisle. He would make sure to wish all of his fellow veggies a good morning every single day. He also tried his best to  befriend all the veggies he could. All of the other vegetables loved Arnold and were more than happy to be his friend, however, at the end of the day they all had their own groups. There were the leafy greens, the root vegetables, the beans, and Arnold didn’t seem to fit in with any of them. He did have his closest friend Patrick the Potato, but in his heart he knew it just wasn’t the same. One day he decided to confide in Patrick about his plight to get another perspective.

“Patrick, can I talk to you about something?”

“Of course Arnold! What’s the matter?”

“Well you know I love the vegetable aisle and all of my friends, but deep down I’ve always felt like I didn’t really belong here and I don’t know why”. While Patrick listened he had a very conflicted look in his eye. He waited a moment before saying, “I think I may know why, but I don’t know if I should tell you or not”.

“Oh please tell me, I’ve been feeling this way for so long and I just don’t know what to do about it!” Patrick was still very hesitant, but he knew Arnold would never be able to let it go until he told him the truth.

“Okay. The truth is, avocados aren’t actually vegetables”.

“What?” Arnold was shocked to say the least. He had been apart of a vegetable aisle his whole life!

“They’re actually fruits. The grocery store just puts them in vegetable aisle. I don’t really know why. I’m sorry I never told you until now”. 

“That’s okay Patrick. I understand why you didn’t tell me. Now if you’ll excuse me a minute, I need some time to think this over”. Arnold was beginning to question his identity but he tried to remain positive.

“Maybe this is a good thing!” he thought to himself. “Even though I love all my vegetable friends, if I’m not really one of them, I should try being a part of the fruits!” Arnold gathered his courage and made his way over to the fruit side of the produce aisle.

“Good morning everybody! My name is Arnold and I’m an avocado. I just learned that avocados are actually fruits so I was wondering if I could be friends with you all?” They all looked at him a moment, slightly confused but welcomed him with open arms all the same. However, he quickly realized that the fruit world was just the same as the vegetable world. Even though they were all happy to be his friend, they still had their own groups. The berries, the melons, the citrus, and he still wasn’t apart of any of them.

“It’s no use!” he said, feeling defeated. “I’ll never fit in. I’m not enough of a vegetable for the vegetables and I’m not enough of a fruit for the fruits and I just don’t know what to do!”

Patrick overheard his friend’s frustration, and wanted to do his best to help.

“Arnold, I hope you know that I still want to be your friend no matter what you are. Fruit or vegetable, you’re still Arnold and you’re still my best friend”. Arnold realized that Patrick was right. It didn’t matter whether he was a fruit or a vegetable or if he was anything in between. He was Arnold, and that was the most important thing of all.

                                                                        The End