VIRGE

The Virtual Edge FLVS Literary Magazine

Spring 2013

Table of Contents

Alyssa Weigt Page 19

Amanda Fischer Page 33

Amanda Fowler Pages 16, 26

Ashley Duncan Page 19

Ashley Johns Page 11

Brittany Sherman Pages 13, 21

Cailey Weaver Page 10

Caroline Ignace Pages 18, 24

Carylanne Joubert Pages 9, 26

Claudia Moncaliano Pages 5, 6, 17

Danielle Hunter Page 8

Delany Peshek Pages 14, 15, 25

Hannah Tarleton Page 7

Heaven Knox Page 31

Jack Irvine Pages 4, 24

Jenna Santoro Page 17

Judy Cholymay Page 18

Katharyn King Pages 14, 32

Katherine Pack Page 27

Kenneth Griffiths, Jr. Page 11

Kirsten Rubi Cover

Marissa Curtis Pages 20, 22

Meagan Horton Pages 9, 22

Naomi Hurlston Page 7

Natalie Liptak Page 25

Nicole Malanga Pages 13, 28

Priscilla Gonzalez del Real Page 3

Reed Savoie Page 23

Sade Page 15

Samantha Morris Page 12

Savannah Moore Page 16

Talia Fradkin Page 8

Victoria Brown Pages 21, 23

Zoe Hannah Babyar Pages 4, 12

Cover Artwork - “Untitled.” Kirsten Rubi, Grade 9

Student Editors

Delany Peshek

Yael Lilienthal

Samantha Morris

Erica Nathan

Staff Adviser

Mrs. Jenni Newton

“Moon River.” Priscilla Gonzalez del Real, Grade 10

“Macrocosm.”

Jack Irvine, Grade 9

“Daytime Bliss.”

Zoe Hannah Babyar,

Grade 6

“Mrs. Piggy.” Claudia Moncaliano, Grade 9

“Julio.” Claudia Moncaliano, Grade 9

Act I

Hannah Tarleton, Grade 10

So fleetingly begins a life anew,

Yet as soon as it comes, it seems to fly.

The stage provides solstice to souls who flew

To a land of fantasy and dreams so high.

Like a bird, a thespian is so free

To venture through an endless horizon.

He finds his home in an exquisite tree

To await the curtain’s rise, a bright dawn.

Garbed with feathers of makeup and costumes,

The free bird sings on his welcoming perch.

With love for his free song, he may assume

His soul has ended its long, empty search.

The empty stage is my home and escape;

My excited passion pulls back the drape.

“Butterfly.” Naomi Hurlston, Grade 8

Education: An Investment in America’s Future Talia Fradkin, Grade 9

Our country was built on strength of character,

a drive to succeed, a need to explore.

What was accomplished inspires awe.

Religious beliefs fueled exploration,

and determination built this great nation.

Hardships existed along the way,

but from their objectives, the founders would not sway.

These learned men of art and letters

penned the documents that shed the light

on what was so dear, our civil rights.

If we’re to continue down this path,

we’re going to need a little math.

Add a pinch of sociology,

and a dash of some psychology.

Let creativity flavor the stew.

Science yields a potent brew.

History often repeats itself,

so take those tomes up off the shelf.

When people learn from past mistakes,

we can build a better future for all our sakes.

Education has the highest return

when a population is encouraged to learn.

Learn a little. Learn a lot.

Try to remember what people forgot.

Rome crumbled, and Krakatoa shook.

They should have taken a better look

inside the history books of yore

to see just what went wrong before.

Ideas come and ideas go,

but through learning we can grow.

Build your mind, and you will find

the legendary pot of gold.

Education makes us bold.

To the universe and beyond,

learning is the magic wand.

Sprinkle the fairy dust of knowledge.

Prepare our young people to attend college.

Explore new frontiers with your mind

to build a future worthy of mankind.

Curiosity went to Mars

after traveling through the stars.

Let creativity guide education,

and imagine the possibilities for our nation.

“Sh

ado

ws.

” D

anie

lle H

un

ter,

Gra

de

11

“Spring in the Country.”

Meagan Horton, Grade 10

“Blossom.”

Carylanne Joubert, Grade 12

Tick Tock: The Sixty Second Break Cailey Weaver, Grade 9

I was upstairs doing science,

I came down for a break.

I had sixty seconds to eat a snack

so I fixed myself a shake.

I sipped for fifteen minutes

then my mother said, "All right.

It's time to go upstairs to work

or we're gonna have a fight!"

I looked up at the clock

and I said to mom, "Already?”

I still have fifty seconds left

and I still want some spaghetti.

I went to my computer

and I played a fishing game.

I played for twenty minutes

till my mom called out my name.

"It's time to go upstairs now;

The day is near its end."

I still had forty seconds though

and emails left to send.

I sat down on the piano bench

and played the whole book through.

My birds began to chirp and tweet.

I clapped my hands and stomped my feet.

My mom began to scream and shout,

"Get up! Go work or you'll be out!”

I only played six songs you know.

I've thirty seconds left to go.

I opened the door

and stepped quickly outside.

I searched for ten minutes

for a good place to hide.

I heard someone rustling

very nearby

and a short moment later,

my mom cried out, "WHY?"

"You're deliberately wasting.

Go on, do your school!

You're driving me crazy.

I'm starting to drool!"

"Please, Mom! Come on,

I thought you were smart.

I've got twenty seconds

I think I'll do art!"

I got out my pencils,

crayons and paint.

I scribbled on paper.

My mom, she felt faint.

"You're getting me mad.

My hair's turning gray.

My skin's turning purple,"

She started to say.

She collapsed on the floor

and screamed bloody murder.

I think everyone in the world

could have heard her.

"Why aren't you working?

I really don't know!

Waiting for you

is like watching grass grow!"

My painting of oranges,

roses and pears

was super fantastic

but Mom didn't care.

I cleaned up the brushes

and rinsed out my hair.

And all this I did

with ten seconds to spare.

I looked out the window.

The sky was pitch black.

The day, it was over.

There's no turning back.

My science unfinished,

my math stayed undone.

My mother lay limp.

But at least I had fun!

Lovestruck Kenneth Griffiths, Jr.

Coming out of my math class I felt out of place The night of all nights is coming No requests, no e-mail, no voicemail My life seemed it was at the edge of a cliff The streams have dried in my heart My soul was empty Suddenly Ms. Serenity came my way Her soft flowing white hair flowed through the gushing wind Her eyes were like the stars sparkling on a dark night Her face was as calming as a deer in a pasture of freshly grown lilies She looked at me and I looked at her My heart filled up with an abrupt obsession to launch my snare Elijah filled up the streams with rushing water and tilapia I rummaged for a word to say but nothing came out Too late She captured me like a butterfly to a flower That one moment, everything froze It was if the whole room was silenced with just a TV remote She rubbed my face gently with her tender fingers She smoothed her majestic lips onto my cheek with a kiss and gently stung me with her striking pounce I was hypnotized Lovestruck

“Rose.” Ashley Johns, Grade 9

Rings and Things Samantha Morris, Grade 10

I hear the ring

Ding-a-ling

The ringing of the bell.

I hear the ring

I see you wring

Your hands when things aren’t so good and well.

I feel the sting

When you sing

Through tears but want to yell.

I loved you more than anything

But no one I could tell.

So I let my love for you drown

In the eternal clanging of the bell.

“The Rings.” Zoe Hannah Babyar, Grade 6

Special

Brittany Sherman, Grade 10

People will ask you why you’re always reading.

Just smile and say that this world is intriguing.

They’ll ask why you always want to write.

Just say that you’re helping to make the world bright.

And some may even ask why you still play pretend.

Give ‘em a smirk and say ‘Everyone needs a friend.’

Now please don’t ever let the world change your mind.

‘Cause you have something special, something they couldn’t find.

“See Things Differently.” Nicole Malanga, Grade 11

TOP

: “W

ings

.” K

ath

aryn

Kin

g, G

rad

e 8

BO

TTO

M: “

Un

titl

ed #

3.”

Del

any

Pes

hek

, Gra

de

11

Prairie

Sade, Grade 7

While walking on the soft, green grass in the prairie

The air smelled like sweet, crisp apples

The leftover dew on the grass sank into the earth with every step I took

The mist near the morning sun created a rainbow

A rainbow that shined like a giant colorful crystal across the sky

As the day went on I climbed a towering tree only to see my dream

A stretch of land that went from the horizon back to my small but curious eyes

When the sun finally finished its walk through the sky, it settled down for the night

The moon shined in the now ghostly dark night but with the stars as its agents

I know it’s time for me to rest now, but the prairie’s beauty is too great to forget

But there’s always a tomorrow to again smell the crisp air and kiss the moon goodnight

“Untitled #2.” Delany Peshek, Grade 11

Who Has Seen Her? Savannah, Grade 9

Hear her dancing on the roof, the pitter-patter of her feet.

Her dancing matches the rain’s beat.

Her laughing as she flies through the woods, causing the leaves to rustle and shake. Her little toes causing ripples on the lake.

She is the shadow that passes overhead,

and causes moonbeams to shine on your face when you’re in bed.

Sometimes she sits so still you hardly know she’s there, sometimes she flies so fast you’d think she was everywhere!

You hear her whistle, an eerie cry, when a harsh cold wind blows by.

Her smile full of mischief, her eyes filled with fun, her long hair changing color with each season.

Pink in the spring, gold in the summer, Red in the fall, and white in the winter.

Her laugh creates stars that shine in the night, her thin lacey wings shining bright in moonlight.

Now you know who she is, and what she is for.

Maybe she is real, or part of folklore.

Now you know what to look for, you know to be wary.

And keep an eye out for that enchanting little fairy!

“Refl

ecti

on

.” A

man

da

Fow

ler,

Gra

de

10

Sandy

Jenna Santoro, Grade 9

The wind blows briskly,

Leaves moving violently in the air,

The dim sky roaring with thunder,

The lightning bolts illuminating the sky every time they hit.

Trees are in the streets,

Cars are in lakes,

Poles through roofs,

Water flooding everywhere and everything.

The storm has passed,

And now we must deal with the damage.

“Ch

ildre

n.”

Cla

ud

ia M

on

calia

no

, Gra

de

9

I Write

Judy Cholymay, Grade 10

My life moves too quickly

Too many times have I found myself alone.

With more doubt than I have ever known

I have no more tears to spare...

But that doesn’t mean your mean eyes can travel so far across the globe and stare

See me...

I've been down the road of glory and hate

My heart races

For it can no longer fit through these tight spaces

If ever I’m alone you'll find me writing

My life through chapters, verses, and poetry

See,

Writing is my passion

Music is my life

I write what I feel...

And I write what I see

Sometimes I find it safe to say that,

"Paper is more patient than people."

“Pencils of Color.” Caroline Ignace, Grade 10

“The First Snowfall.”

Alyssa Weigt,

Grade 10

“Sasha.”

Ashley Duncan,

Grade 12

Fly Brittany Sherman, Grade 10

You don’t know where I’m going, and neither do I.

I can’t slow myself down, I just need to fly.

I’ll run away and soar into the air, Away from your judgment and all that’s not fair.

And now I feel like I’m falling apart.

I wish to tell you, but I don’t know where to start.

My thoughts are all a jumbled mess,

And it’s leaving me to feel happy less.

Now I’m starting to slowly drown,

But remove extra weight by losing my crown.

And without it I’m not feeling so pressured or scared,

And I’m seeing that someone might have actually cared.

Maybe now I can see the stars and the moon.

Cause the darkness isn’t gone, but I’m not left with its gloom.

“Feather on Water.” Victoria Brown, Grade 12

Silence Marissa Curtis, Grade 11

Bottled up inside

Are all the feelings that I hide

Afraid of being judged

Or anything less than loved

Thoughts kept to myself

Just for me and no one else

Terrified to death

I’ve suddenly lost my breath

And it seems you’ve asked a question

And you want my opinion

Too bad you didn’t notice

The silence is my dominion

I lay here alone

It’s just me, myself and I

And the silence all around

It never says goodbye

People say they’ll listen

But they’re blinded by derision

They make their minds up quick

So fast it makes me sick

So tell me, what does it mean?

When you’re asked and put on the scene

They say they want your view

But then turn it around on you

And it seems you’ve tried your hardest

And you want me to speak

It’s a shame you didn’t notice

That in the silence you get weak

But this is where I live

This is my safe zone

Here I am comfortable

Since here I am alone

No one else has tried as hard

As you have to break through

Though the silence scares

And frankly frightens you

More than anyone

You’ve made me sad in my current state

And more than anything

The silence is what I hate

And it seems I’ve gotten nowhere

And you’ve barely heard my voice

I’m starting to think this decision

Isn’t really my choice

I’m drowning in the quiet

Though you’ve done your finest

I just can’t leave

My beloved silence

“Dan

del

ion

.” M

eaga

n H

ort

on

, Gra

de

10

Dear Evil Reed Savoie, Grade 12

I was once free of your vice,

Just long enough for the scars to heal.

But now this life without happiness has to suffice

Because love is imaginary, and hate is real.

I somehow rid myself of all of you,

And every day was filled with light.

And my grey skies were once blue,

But once again…I face never-ending night.

I long to feel something other than sorrow,

I want to be like the ones on the outside.

And I sometimes hope I do not live to see tomorrow,

So in this inescapable dark hole, I’ll hide.

I’ll wait here for someone to find me,

Someone who has been looking for me all along.

And I’ll be everything they want me to be,

And nothing I do for them will be wrong.

If this person is right,

I won’t have to change a thing.

I will be perfect in their sight,

And there will be no more suffering.

So here I wait patiently,

Knowing that happiness lies ahead.

And I can’t wait to be free,

Of the demons in my head.

So Dear Evil,

Mark the day when I will be free.

For now I sit in this window sill,

Watching those on the outside…those I so desperately want to be.

“Cen

tip

ede

Cra

wlin

g.”

Vic

tori

a B

row

n, G

rad

e 1

2

The Day I Knew Caroline Ignace, Grade 10

More than the ever-flowing rivers of the earth, I prize you, my Grandad.

Your soft-spoken voice, sweet smile, and quiet giggle;

Your humbling personality, delightful disposition, and pleasant eyes;

Your appearance is unforgettable.

Always there to give a hug;

Always there to give advice;

Always knew the right words to say.

Days spent playing on the swing made by your strong hands;

Days eating chocolate marshmallow ice cream;

Days like those were like no other.

For a while you had been sick;

For a while you had to give an extra effort;

For a while you tried to give it your all.

The day it all turned upside down;

The day I knew we had only a few more days together;

The day I knew I had lost my granddad.

“Th

e St

ran

d.”

Jac

k Ir

vin

e, G

rad

e 9

Forgotten Library Natalie Liptak, Grade 9

Behind tall oaken doors,

Their hinges coated with rust,

Is a secret world.

A world of wraith-like shadows,

And the phantom echoes of ancient footsteps.

Where the atmosphere is somber and dimly lit,

The enigmatic, forgotten library.

The shelves of books tower high in the stifling gloom,

These heavy, archaic tomes,

Untouched and undisturbed for so long,

That they have forgotten all.

To bring joy and laughter, comfort and nostalgia,

The electrifying heartbeats as the eyes of the reader slip down the page.

To be a glowing beacon of knowledge,

And bring wisdom from the distant past.

So the books lie in frozen silence,

Still dreaming of the day,

When eager hands will touch them again,

Blowing off the dust from their time-worn bindings,

And the mustiness from their yellowed, faded pages,

And most of all,

The sadness of waiting for so long.

Once again, the books shall live.

“Untitled #1.” Delany Peshek, Grade 11

“Flower in the News.” Katherine Pack, Grade 11

The Gazebo Nicole Malanga, Grade 11

A solid thump rings through the damp air. A worn man gets up off his knees to appreciate his work: a freshly planted daffodil. Gingerly, he shakes off the dirt from his calloused and veined hands. A quick tisk escapes his lips as he scans the horizon. Of all the breathtaking surroundings of the park, the most beautiful stands in the shadows. Over the years it had grown into disarray, and Harry couldn't do a thing about it. There was something special about that corner of the garden; something that couldn't be changed. In the years that Harry spent caring for the Earth of the park, he had carefully watched the little clearing behind the trees; a worn and peeling gazebo. The small town of Whitefield doesn’t exist to most people. But to the few thousand that fill it with love, it is the only place they know. Amid charming cobbled streets and houses huddled for warmth, there is a single patch of green: Shaded Groves Park.

~~~~~~~~

Charlie suffered a long and bland childhood within the bounds of Whitefield. He planned his out-of-state college experience even before high school started. The weeks following graduation, an anxious Charlie spent his days packing for anywhere-but-here. Then the town attracted a new resident, a woman named Denise. Charlie's friends spent days planning their method of attack; everyone except Charlie. A chance encounter at the local furniture store changed his mind. He was shopping for dorm furnishings, she was looking to decorate her new apartment. Dozens of phone calls, dinner dates and roses later, Charlie had found his future.

~~~~~~~~

It was a full moon. Harry had been working late, perfecting his lily arrangement when he saw them coming. A red-haired young man and a giddy girl clutching his arm made their way to the darkened gazebo. Harry shook his head at the crazy kids and returned to his art. Seconds later, he heard an ecstatic cry. She was in the air now, a glint of moonlight coming from her left hand. The wood of the gazebo creaks now under any weight. The cheery yellow paint has faded to subdued beige. Any passerby could easily overlook it.

~~~~~~~~

James had always been patriotic. When it came time to choose a career, James knew exactly what he wanted to do. A six-month tour of duty later, he had finally returned to Whitefield and his loving wife, Charlotte. She had been planning for this day for weeks. She had consulted hundreds of recipe cards just to find the perfect romantic dinner. Finally, the day had arrived. She met him at the airport wearing a new cotton dress two sizes too big. In his arms once again, she told him she had a surprise waiting for him at the park.

The afternoon sun blazed down on the park. Harry had just swiped yet another row of sweat from his forehead when he realized he wasn't alone. There were two people sitting under the shade of the gazebo, hands intertwined. He wore a stiff Navy uniform that clashed with her floral dress. Their whispered conversation ended in laughter. He looked on proudly as she slowly pushed down on her oversized dress to reveal a rounded bump. At this, Harry blushed and returned to fiddling with the weeds. The bench filling the gazebo is worn. There are patches where the wood shines through from behind the paint. No matter the season, there is always an overwhelming aroma of roses.

~~~~~~~~

Jenna considered herself an abnormal teen. While her friends tore themselves away from their mothers, Jenna clung to hers. Her mother, Mary, only wanted the best for her daughter. In reaching her goal, she pushed Jenna through middle school and supported Jenna during her high school years. Then the time came for Jenna to grow up. At last, acceptance season began - otherwise known as “senior year.” While checking the mail one afternoon, Jenna could barely suppress her screams. A single white envelope buried within junk mail had a return address that made Jenna’s stomach bubble with anticipation. ~~~~~~~~

Harry had just finished arranging the new summer orchids. He pushed up his sleeve and checked the time. It was three in the afternoon. Abundant giggles interrupted Harry's thoughts of the weekend. A young girl ran ahead of an older version of herself toward the gazebo, a flash of white in her hand. The older woman caught up just in time to settle onto the gazebo bench; an envelope held between them. Harry watched as the young woman slid her finger under the flap. She squealed along with the older woman as she read the letter aloud. When she had finished, she clutched the paper to her chest and embraced the older woman, crinkling the paper in the process. Harry tried to shield his ears from the deathly combination of speed talking and screaming, but it was no use. There is a local story about the gazebo, one that mystifies children. They say that the shade of the gazebo is filled with so much happiness, that it is possible to enter distraught and leave overjoyed.

~~~~~~~~

Harry started his morning as he usually does, with a calm stroll through the park. Then he usually checked the mail. He paid equal attention to every item – junk mail or not. On this particularly cloudy Monday, Harry laid his gnarled fingers on something that worried him. It was written on cream-colored City of Whitefield stationary. Harry held it up to the light leaking in through the fogged windows. Not a bill. He fumbled for a letter opener and ripped off the top of the letter. The world began to spin and he leaned against the front desk for support. "To Whom It May Concern, as you know, our town is cutting back on costs to meet a shrinking budget. As a result, we regret to inform you that Shaded Groves Park will be closing due to a lack of financial support. We will no longer be requiring your services...." No. All that time, all the planning. All...Harry's head began to spin. Not the gazebo. The day for closure was printed just above a flourished signature of the mayor. June 28th. Harry had only 14 days to say goodbye.

~~~~~~~~

Harry put his full weight on the squeaky shopping cart. Instead of remembering the grocery list, he cycled through the list of gardens within Shaded Groves. He had lovingly fed every one of his creations enough to last them a month. He had purposely avoided a sensitive topic - the gazebo. He was so engrossed in his preparation plans that he steered the cart towards the sliding door. "Harry! Where do you think you're going," Harry shook his head and turned to find Opal in her starched grocery uniform. Sheepishly, Harry turned the cart around and began to unload his groceries. "Oh Opal, you won't believe-" "What?" Opal, always one for gossip, let the groceries pile up on the counter and eagerly watched Harry. "They're closing Shaded Groves and I…" "Oh dear," Opal covered her heart and gasped with all concern. "All those flowers, the trees..." As Opal mumbled through a list of possible casualties, Harry attempted to keep his swaying mountain of groceries still. "Well, Opal, it's been great talkin' to you and all but…" Harry nudged a loaf of bread towards the scanner. "Oh, Harry, I can tell something's really got you up in a bunch." Opal put her hands on her hips and looked as concerned as a mother. Harry began to doubt whether he would be leaving any time soon. But with Opal’s kind eyes gleaming, Harry decided that the frozen foods can wait. He told her all about the little gazebo in the shadows.

~~~~~~~~

Harry was sure to rise early this morning. He started the coffee pot and stared at the calendar - June 28th. The slam of the rusty car door made Harry shudder. This was his last drive to work. The unusual traffic along Main Street inched along. Finally, Harry's car creaked around the bend towards the park. More traffic; no end seemed possible to the snake of cars. Exasperated, Harry parked along the swale and walked towards the front gate. After pushing through a surprising crowd of people, Harry made his way to the maintenance house. A circle of important-looking people from the city stood nearby. Harry asked if they had come to shut down the park. They said yes. Harry asked about the people outside. They didn’t know where the crowd came from. When Harry turned to inspect the crowd, he understood. He could spot the faces of the people he had seen over the years. They were all the people from the gazebo. The city officials demanded a tour of the grounds. Harry made sure to give them a memorable tour. He lovingly pointed out every variety of flower, the inspirations for specific flower beds, the reasons for planting this type of plant under that type of tree. After they toured Harry's livelihood, the officials meandered by the ring of trees that protected the gazebo. One of them sneered at the peeling paint. Another asked if anyone even knew it was here. The man in charge pondered aloud how much it would cost to tear it all down.

Harry examined his options and came up short. There was no way to stop fate now. Over the low grumbles of the people in suits, Harry could hear the crunch of grass. He turned and found a young girl slicing her way through the crowd, headed straight for the gazebo. A red-haired man followed the girl, as he chuckled out his apologies. "I'm sorry,” he said. "She's my daughter." He offered his hand to the largest man. "My name's Charlie and this is my wife, Denise." A pretty woman approached. Harry instantly recognized them as the couple in the gazebo from so many years ago. Charlie spoke towards the circle of suits. "This gazebo…” Charlie’s voice caught. “This gazebo isn’t just your everyday gazebo…" The crowd stepped up to the officials to explain. Their lives had changed at this gazebo, and they didn't want the magic to stop there. The city men shook their heads and recited the budget cuts for the umpteenth time. That was when the townspeople started to take action. Thomas, the owner of the local bank, offered financial support. He squeezed his wife's hand. He blushed and revealed they met in that very gazebo. Hours later, the city officials marched to their black vans and drove away. They promised to return. A cheer bubbled up from the crowd surrounding the gazebo. Harry flitted through the crowd with the most energy he’d had in years. The baking summer sun was ignored by all. Harry found the faces in the crowd changed from when he had last seen them. He spotted the man in the Navy uniform, his wife nearby rocking a toddler in a stroller. Off to the side, the young woman and her mother stood. The younger donned a Harvard sweatshirt. Conversation buzzed around Harry as he took it all in. He finally decided to take a seat. He shuffled between the people and trees to the gazebo. Slowly, he lowered himself onto the worn bench. He inhaled a long ribbon of the rose's perfume. His magic moment had finally arrived.

“Spin in the Bottle Bloom.” Heaven Knox, Grade 6

“Point of View.” Katharyn King, Grade 8

Hope on Eagle’s Wings

Amanda Fischer, Grade 8

“Why did we come here?” I slump even further down the polished couch.

Mom sighs. “Emily, I’ve already told you; far too many times.”

“No, you haven’t; not really.”

Again she sighs. “Fine. Remember the day your father came home from work the last time; a month

after the bank failed?”

I nod soberly. I would never forget that day; could never forget it. That was the worst day of my life.

Mom continues. “We lost all we had in the bank failure except ten dollars and the clothes on our backs.

And without Dad’s job to bring us money, it’s not enough to live on, and you know it. That’s why we

came to stay with your uncle.”

“I still don’t see why it had to be him,” I grumble.

“Emily.” Mom’s voice is a clear warning.

“Well, how long are we going to live here? Can you at least tell me that?”

Mom bobs her head back and forth a couple times. “Maybe. If Dad gets a job, then maybe we can move

out. But,” she cautions, noticing the look on my face, “jobs are scarce right now. Don’t get your hopes

up.”

It’s too late. My hopes are already soaring as high as the eagles Dad talks about all the time. I hate it at

my Uncle Harry’s house. The house itself is cold, dark, and full of echoes. Uncle Harry is very much like

his house - grumpy, old, and, well, empty of all emotion. At least, that’s how it seems. So if there’s a

chance, even a small one, to get out of here, I’ll cling tightly to it and never let that hope go.

A little bit later, we’re sitting down to dinner with my uncle and Dad, who’s just come back from job

searching. Mom looks questioningly at him, and he shakes his head wearily. I had been searching his

face, too, and I saw the news before Mom even looked at him. I sigh ever so softly, my hope descending,

but Dad hears. He looks at me sadly.

“Emily, honey,” he whispers. “It’ll be okay. I’ll find another job.”

How can you be sure? I want to ask. But I don’t. I sit silently and properly, eating my dinner as if I haven’t

a care in the world.

After dinner, Dad says he’d like to talk to me. We sit down right where Mom and I were earlier, that slip-

pery old couch. I stare at the wall above his head as he talks, not hearing a word he’s saying. I’m too

busy thinking, remembering what life was like before the bank failed. Before Dad lost his job and we had

to move; before my whole life changed in a single day. Suddenly, I’m shaken out of my daydream.

“Emily,” Dad is calling my name. “Are you listening?”

“Um...” I pull my gaze off the wall and grin sheepishly.

“That’s what I thought,” he sighs. “Well, I was saying we need to keep holding onto hope.”

“Hope of what?”

“Hope that things will get better; that I’ll find a job.” His eyes are fixed on mine. “We gave you ‘Hope’ as

your middle name for a reason, Em. Want to guess what it is?”

“Because...because hope is important?” I’m not sure that’s what he means.

Dad smiles, his whole face lighting up. “Exactly. I always knew you were a smart one.” We sit quietly for

a moment, then he continues.

“You know how I’m always talking about eagles, Em?” I nod.

“That’s a good way to think about hope. Imagine your worries are attached to the backs of those majes-

tic birds, flying high and far away. Then let your hope rise up, up, up--as high as the eagles soar. See

what I mean?”

Before he even finishes, I’m smiling broadly. That’s just what I compared hope to earlier.

“Yeah, I do.” He reaches over and gives me a hug, and we sit there looking out the window at the lake

behind the house. I see something in the distance, way up in the air. Is it what I think it is? Looking over

at Dad, who’s smiling at me, I know he’s seen it too. It’s an eagle, carrying our worries away.