“But he was pierced for our transgressions,

    he was crushed for our iniquities;

the punishment that brought us peace was on him,

    and by his wounds we are healed.”

Isaiah 53:5

As it turns out, the names aren’t the confusing part. What sometimes is a contradiction is how people treat Black Friday. Let’s back up for a moment to what precedes the big sales: Thanksgiving. This is an entire holiday dedicated to giving thanks and appreciating everything that we have. It’s a holiday of family, feasting, and general goodwill. How on earth do we go from this to elbowing others out of the way to get to the last discounted appliance? One day we’re celebrating everything we have, and the next we’re fighting others at Walmart to get more, more, more. In 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18, we read, “Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” The thankfulness shouldn’t end on Friday, and it doesn’t have to. Even if you decide to go shopping, and even if there’s something you really want to find, it doesn’t have to be all-consuming. 

There’s absolutely nothing wrong with buying something for yourself on Black Friday, or any other day, for that matter, but it’s important to remember what you have. Even if you don’t have as many physical possessions as you’d ideally want, or you weren’t able to have a nice dinner this year, or even if you don’t have anyone to celebrate with, you can still be thankful. Black Friday might tell you that you always need more, but Good Friday says that you already have all that you need. All you need to do is believe, and Jesus saves your life. This is all the motivation we need to be thankful every day; everything else is just an added blessing.

A foreign drama

To those in prosperity. 

For politicians, a game

With life as a chess piece.

King me.

The road to honor,

Or rout to defeat.

What is war?

Bloody hands

Clinging to hope.

Desperate hearts.

One place to go.

Words nobody ever heard.

The people’s needs have been ignored.

There’s always a way,

But nobody said there wouldn’t be pain.

What is war?

War is victory and defeat,

Homeless children in the street.

Hand that she won’t hold again,

Prints he can’t leave in the sand. 

Ruined lives and broken times.

War is where the heroes die.

What is war?

Courage and honor,

A cause to believe in.

To a broken problem,

A broken solution.

Those fighting the fight.

The dark before the light.

This is war.

I'm too shy

I don't want to be afraid

But still meek anxiety

Drives me insane

I want to make everyone happy

Be everything for them

But I just keep on failing

Again and again and again

I got sucked down the vortex

Vortex of a teenage mind

In this rolling, racing vortex

Questions are all I can ever find

This crazy vortex

Feels like a roller coaster

I'll fight through what comes next

This isn't over

In this cold and lonely vortex

I'll never be alone

God is here beside me

Guiding me back home

A gentle breeze in my mind

The softest hand holds my heart

My life is in His grip

He's held me from the start 

I'm caught in the vortex

Vortex of my racing mind

In this colorful vortex

Everything will turn out fine

We want to be a light,

Do all that we can do.

Warm, gentle, and caring,

Yes, that’s me and you.

We’re both so active in spirit,

We just have to let it out,

Try all different things,

Be creative now.

We are the old souls

In our deepest contemplations,

And the most youthful children

In our wonder and our actions.

We are love and light,

Soft, calm comfort,

Blazing fire of compassion, 

Vibrant hues of life.

We are contradictions,

Complex mazes of the mind.

Yes, that’s us,

We’re two of a kind.

miserable? I'm ruining my childhood. I'm letting my family down. “I’m worthless,” I whisper. The words feel too dense for the air, falling to the cement floor like bricks. Maybe because I said it out loud, or the intense emotion just ran its course, but either way I begin to calm down, my tattered breath returning to normal. I look up and unclench my fists, then take a deep breath and stand up on shaky legs. I survey myself in the dirty mirror that leans against a stack of totes full of clothes and books. I got the mirror off of the side of the road a few months ago because I thought I could make something cool out of the glass. My reflection looks almost as worn as the once-elegant trim. There are faint bags under my eyes, and my skin is sticky and gross, besides the fact that I’m beet red. My dirty blonde hair is a mess, and my arms look thin under my big t-shirt. I shrug. I look like the protagonist of a very dramatic movie. Pre glow up, of course. I giggle at that. Yeah, I’m a hot mess, but I’m not in a coming of age movie yet. Plus, I don’t have the right body type to be the protagonist of anything. Most days I feel too small for my body. Sighing, I head inside to refill my water bottle.

I pause outside for a moment, letting the cool air calm my nerves, maybe freeze out the rest of my dramatic thoughts. I’m careful not to let the house's front door squeak, but it doesn’t matter, anyway. The only light I can see is the dim glow from the lamp in the kitchen. It's enough to illuminate my younger sister, Alex, who is sitting at the table wearing a red t-shirt. “Hey, Brooks,” she says nonchalantly.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Am I not allowed to eat cheese balls at 10:30pm?” Her green eyes twinkle, and her high ponytail looks surprisingly bouncy for this time of night. 

I can’t help laughing. “It isn’t wise,” I point out.

“Eh, I’ll live. What were you doing in the garage?”

“You know I like to craft in the garage.” That isn’t a lie. All of my supplies are out there since it has more space and less carpet than our shared bedroom. I never said I was crafting now.

“Weirdo,” she says as I make my way back to the door, water bottle filled.

I stick my tongue out as I escape, still smiling for a moment. Then I let out a sigh. The whole exchange was so normal. She doesn’t know anything is wrong. To be fair, I have way better control when I’m with people. At least, over things like this. Truthfully, I might flip out about little things, like, multiple times a week. I really can’t hold it together. But I can hide some things. I don't tell anyone that I feel like life is running away. That I think everything I do and say is wrong and my existence itself is a waste of time and energy. No, I just complain loudly for entire afternoons about schoolwork, or freak out when I can't find the shirt I want to wear, or cry for two hours when my sister says something even slightly offensive. I might as well scream from the rooftops that I’m stressed. If I were nicer, I wouldn’t. I feel horrible when my mood affects the rest of my family, but I have no self control. I have to let my feelings out. If only I could tell them the reason just as easily. It's not like I'm really trying to hide anything, because I can't, I just feel like they don’t get it. I’m screaming, but nobody really hears what it is that I’m saying.

Still, maybe Alex doesn’t know that anything is wrong because when I spend time with her nothing is wrong. Much as it hurts that nobody knows what’s going on, sometimes I need a reality check. She doesn’t give me the time to be worried or confused because with her I'm too busy giggling over something stupid or we’re mercilessly skipping each other’s turns in Uno. She’s my bright side, my chill pill, my personified therapy. My sister is my best friend. 

It's just that if I'm being completely honest, I don’t know if she’d even care that I’m upset. That's what scares me most.

I know I’m being stupid. Why should she care? There’s nothing to care about. I’m inventing problems. It’s an illusion for me alone. She has her own life, and probably her own problems. She is the one with the learning disorder, after all. I’ve seen her crying to Mom about her struggles, though she’s usually strong. Gosh, I’m so selfish. I should be worrying about her instead of being upset that she isn’t worrying about me when there’s nothing to worry about. You see what I mean by dumpster fire now, right?

Putting my complicated thoughts and instinct to keep breathing way too fast aside, I reenter the garage and force myself to focus back on my tablet, which is open to a YouTube dance tutorial. Dancing is probably one of the reasons I'm even in this state of mind right now, but it's also something I love to do. I'm dumb like that. I dance all the time for fun, but it's not like I'm any good at it. Now's as good a time as any to change that, though. And if I give my stupid fat body some excercise in the process, that won't hurt, either. Dancing is only one of my many projects (sometimes I feel unaccomplished and empty if I don't have enough short term goals to work on), and lately it's been hard to keep up with all of my endeavors plus school. That's not even to mention family or friends. My entire life feels off kilter, but I really do love to dance, even if the garage is a small practice space. So I turn up the music and focus. 

I'm currently trying to learn "Can't We Just Leave The Monster Alive?" by TXT. I just need to hear, “It’ll be alright, alright, alright,” because right now my whole body is telling me that it will most certainly not be alright. But I don't have to think as I follow the screen propped up against the mirror and the beats playing in my ears. All I have to do is move my body in a certain way, a bounce here and a twist there, and suddenly I'm dancing, and then it's just me and the music and the sweat on my back. And for a while I truly feel alive.

That's until I try to perfect the pre-chorus. I replay Yeonjun’s key footwork around fifteen times, but I just can’t keep the steps in my head. They’re probably bouncing off of the same suffocating wall that keeps reflecting all of my thoughts back onto each other in one big jumble. After another ten minutes or so, I’ve gotten exactly nowhere. Glaring at my reflection in the mirror, I decide that I will keep going until I get it. Twenty minutes later, I’m kicking the wall in defeat.

I decide to work on another end of the world issue instead: crafting. Funny story on that:

"Hey, Brooks, just coming to check on you," Dad said yesterday. He ducked to avoid hitting his head on the hanging light as he entered the garage. A breeze followed him through the door, cooling my face as I hurriedly turned off the phone and went to stand by my craft desk. I pretended I was busy with the glue gun, but it really wasn't even plugged in. "How're the crafts coming?"

"Good," I said casually, even as my mind flickered to the Etsy order I had yet to start.

"You're doing that show with Aunt Dede on Saturday, right?"

Shoot. Shootshootshoot.

"Oh, I almost forgot! Yup!" Or did forget and completely screwed myself. Whatever.

"You've been working hard out here lately. You should be pretty well prepared."

"Uh-huh! Definitely!" Nope. I was not prepared. Not at all. In fact, I was doomed.

I grabbed the phone to text Aunt Dede as soon as Dad left. Scooching myself up to sit on the hood of our old lawnmower, I typed, "R we still doing the craft fair Saturday?"

Her response came through seconds later: "Of course! I'll pick u up at 8."

"K, how much are you bringing?"

"I was going to do 20 hats and 10 paintings. Why?"

"Just trying to figure out how much I should bring." 

'And make,' I thought as I sent the message.

"I'd say around 20 key chains and 20 headbands. Are u doing shirts?"

I bit my lip, drumming my fingers on the back of the phone. I had five key chains made, and the materials for at least fifteen more. I also had the decorations for the headbands, but not enough plastic bases. T-shirts are fun to decorate, but I wasn't sure I had time. Six days to make fifteen key chains and twenty headbands was bad enough. I'd also need to buy more plain shirts. It probably wouldn't be worth it. Screw that. I could do it. It should've been started already, anyway. "Yeah, will 10 shirts be ok?" I typed.

"Sounds perfect."

I smiled. Perfect. I could do this.

So now I set to work. One key chain, four headbands, and a few paint stains on my jeans later, I'm so tired I can hardly stand up without wanting to die on the spot. Besides that, the garage is freezing. I reluctantly trudge back to my bedroom, where I find Alex fast asleep. The wise decision would be to go to bed myself, but do I? Nope. Instead I find myself eating chocolate ice cream out of the carten while watching YouTube at one in the morning. Sighing, I finally turn the device off. I didn't care about anything when it was on, but now I have to–ugh–think. Why am I so stupid? One in the morning on YouTube, yet I can't bear to keep working on things that need done. If I put so much pressure on myself that it causes this weird anxiety thing (which it shouldn't), I could at least hold myself to my standard. I'm being all dramatic, yet I'm still so light on myself. Some days–or nights–the world feels impossible. 

I don't have much trouble falling asleep, my body tired and my mind quickly falling back into the digital world. Of course. I'm pathetic. I do have lots of trouble waking up in the morning, but I eventually drag myself out of bed. It's an hour later than I want it to be, which fills my chest with a tight frustration, but I push past it and open my computer to begin classes.

I realize it's open to a coding screen. That's the other thing I've been working on.

I was headed to the garage with my phone last week when I glanced down and quickly changed my plans. I saw a text from my friend, Zara. "You busy?" She asked. 

I had a feeling I knew where this was going, so I replied with a, "Nope!" Sure enough, I was soon riding my bike down the road, my heart thumping a little too hard. The sky was bright, yellow leaves crossing my path as I pedaled harder. Cold air snapped at my cheeks, and I breathed it in happily.

My heart beat even faster when I came to the end of the road. As always, I hesitated at the light, even when there were no cars coming. I wondered if I should turn back, but I didn't. Eventually I rolled into the busier road and made my way down, towards the park. I flinched every time I heard the whirr of tires behind me, and I could barely see past the tangle of blonde hair flying into my eyes, but the speed made me feel alive.

Zara was already on the swings when I swerved through the gate, skidding on the gravel. "Yo!" I called with a smile, half waving as I hopped off of the seat and put my kickstand down. "Nice hair," I added, observing the purple and blue mixed into her rich brown locks that peaked out from underneath her beanie.

"Thanks, I died it myself," she said airily, brushing it off of her shoulder.

"No you didn't," I told her.

"Fine. They're clips."

"That explains the beanie."

"What? It's cold out."

"Uh-huh." I sat down on the swing beside hers. "So-ome things never cha-ange!" I sing-songed. I knew the clips were horribly scattered on top of her hair, just like she had worn them when we were nine. That had been when I went to public school. Since I started cyber schooling this year, I haven't seen as much of Zara, so it was a relief to know she was still the same goofball.

"Ugh, not Frozen!" Zara protested.

"Come on, you used to have a Frozen backpack," I reminded her.

"Used to. Meanwhile you still have a Hello Kitty T-shirt."

"Hello Kitty is cool, and I bet that backpack is still in your closet."

"I hate you," she informed me. We laughed, our voices echoing across the deserted playground. I kicked hard at the ground as Zara started playing music off of her phone. Soon I was going much higher than she was, practically flying away from the world. For a moment I envisioned the chain breaking. I would just fly forever. I shared this idea with Zara, and she laughed at me. "That would hurt," she commented.

I giggled. "Whatever."

Truthfully, I felt like I was flying already. The park is one of the few places I'm allowed to go by myself, let alone actually have the means to get to. Going there with Zara feels like freedom. With how I've been feeling lately–stressed beyond imagination even though I don't actually have anything interesting going on in my life, trapped in my own mind, boxed in by my stupid temper–freedom is something I'm learning to cherish.

"Oh! I saw this thing online, you have to do it!" Zara exclaimed after a few moments of swinging along to the music without talking.

"Do what? I'm not breaking any laws, ok." I giggled.

"Shut up, I'm trying to explain!"

"Sorry." I held my hands up in surrender, then nearly fell off of the swing. Zara snorted as I hurriedly regripped the chains. "Go on," I said casually.

"It's a coding competition for high schoolers. The winner gets free classes and a trip to LA!"

"Seriously? That's so cool!" I said, designs already coming together in my head.

"You have to do it," Zara said again.

I smiled. Why not? "Duh!" I agreed.

"I'll send you the link so you can look at it."

"You're the best."

We parted twenty minutes later, each heading in our respective direction for the long ride home. I felt light as a feather, full of sunshine and joy.

So that's another thing I've got going on. The days are taking on a regular schedule. Wake up, get mad about waking up late, school, meltdown (some days worse than others), guilt, coding (everyone assumes I'm doing homework on the computer; they think I work harder than I do), go outside if it isn't dark or raining (I'm beginning to hate the dark), dance (usually only for twenty minutes), crafts, watch YouTube, bed. Time is ticking away. Rain pounds on the garage's metal roof more often than not, making me feel even more anxious.

I never get everything that I want done. I always feel like I'm drowning, but in reality I'm fine. My headbands and key chains are getting sloppier. Every time I think I might be getting good at dancing, I look in the mirror and realize I'm still as awkward as ever. As for coding, progress is slow. It's been a hobby of mine ever since I took an online class for fun two years ago, but I've never tried anything as big as this contest.

I guess it makes sense that I'm stressed. It's clear that what I'm doing is too much, but it shouldn't be. I love these things. I want to be able to handle them. I will be able to handle them. Still, I hate this feeling. I know I'm wasting my time being miserable and that scares me, because I only have so much time. One day I'll wake up and be in the 'twenty years later' epilogue, a grown woman with actual responsibilities. I want to be a kid while I can, but I don't know how to escape myself. I try to be carefree, but sometimes it feels forced and leaves me even more stressed. It's like there's a gaping chasm inside of me, blocking the way to what I really want, whatever that is at this point. One wrong step and I'll go plummeting down into the void.

In the end, it's a tiny thing that sends me crashing down. I'm trying to perfect the chorus to "Can't We Just Leave the Monster Alive?", but I keep getting stuck on a certain part. I repeat it over and over. And over and over and over. And– I have no control over my feet. I hear plastic and metal crashing together as I stumble into my desk, sending craft supplies flying everywhere. I don't even hit that hard, it barely even hurts, but it's enough to make the tension that's been building for weeks light up as rage in my chest. 

I choke out a scream, wildly tearing things off of the desk and hurtling them across the room. Buttons, plastic headbands, tape, copper wire, it's all bouncing off of the piles of junk. My eyes are burning. My throat is burning. Everything is burning. I wish I could throw harder. I wish I were stronger. I yank the glue gun's cord out of the wall and throw that, too. A sickening crack fills the air and I look up just in time to see cracks like spider webs spread over the surface of the mirror. I'm frozen for a moment, staring at my fragmented reflection. 

"Are you ok, sweetie?" It's Mom. She cracks the door open and peeks through, concern clouding her brow when she notices the craft supplies littering the already cluttered room.

I humm out a reply, but it doesn't sound all that convincing. Especially since I'm crying the next second. And trust me, I would prefer to not be crying right now, but the tears are there anyway, tickling the inside of my head and spilling out of my eyes. No matter how hard I might try, I can't hold them back. And so I stand there ugly crying in front of the broken mirror. I never could hide my emotions.

Mom doesn't say anything else as she enters the garage, sidestepping clutter to come and wrap me up in her sturdy arms. I remain stiff for a moment, my movements delayed by the thoughts running through my head. It wasn't even twenty minutes ago that Mom was yelling at me about my horrible attitude towards Alex. Guilt washes over me as I lean into her embrace. She's so soft and warm. Why do I have to make things so hard for her?

She holds me like that until my tears subside. My back is a little stiff by the time she pulls away, and then it's only to take hold of my shoulders and look me in the eye. I'm having trouble looking back at her brown eyes, so full of compassion and well-concealed weariness.

"I'm sorry I yelled earlier," she says gently.

"Sorry for being crappy," I reply, sniffling.

"I get that you're stressed. Life can be…a lot. I shouldn't have lost my temper."

"It wasn't your fault." Because it wasn't. It was my fault. I was the one making everything difficult. "Mom, what's wrong with me?"

"I think you're overwhelmed with a lot of things right now. And I think you might not be the best at handling those emotions."

I let out a wet snort at that. "No duh."

I expect her to lecture me, point out all of my mistakes, tell me how to make it better but I still won’t be able to change anything. She doesn't. She doesn't say anything for a while, just takes my hand and gently rubs the back of it. "It won't always be like this. You're so much more than you think you are. You're going to be ok."

On the one hand, they sound like generic, empty words. She can't possibly know that anything will get better, and I like to think I have a fairly realistic perception of myself. Still, I want to believe her. Because she sounds so sure, so sincere. And she's looking at me with love, not judgment or even much pity. "I love you, Brooks. You're so loved. And that has nothing to do with your performance." And that was it, the words that break my resolve, crumble my walls. Finally the pieces clicked into place.

Fresh tears burn my eyes, and I have no choice but to bury my face in Mom's shoulder, letting the soft fabric of her blouse cushion me. She giggles, patting my head and then hugging me some more. 

We pull apart at the sound of Alex screaming from inside the house. "MOM! HOW LONG DO I COOK THE FRICKIN' HAM FOR?"

"Ham?" I ask, immediately perking up from how I was moments ago.

"Your sister's helping, so don't get your hopes up," Mom laughs, getting up to go assist her.

I laugh too, and then feel Mom's eyes settle on me, a fond smile on her face. "You good now?"

I shrug. "Better. Thanks, Momma."

I stare at the door for a few moments after Mom leaves, then turn around to assess the damage… and let out a verbal groan. The mere sight of the garage is overwhelming. It isn't going to fix itself, though. I gingerly pick up a piece of glass from the floor, careful not to cut my finger on the sharp edge. I can see my left eye staring back at me, bloodshot and shiny from crying. I hold the piece back a little and smile without opening my mouth, watching the dimples appear on either cheek. I don't look amazing, but I look alive. And that's the thing, isn't it? I'm still alive. And there's a lot more to my life than what's going on in my mind. 

I think back over the last month, over the good points instead of bad. Laughing with Alex. Swinging with Zara. Teasing Dad. Hugging Mom. Sunshine in between the clouds. Wind on my cheeks and stars in my eyes. People I love by my side. I'm loved. I'm loved by so many people. They might not understand every thought I have, and I might not be able to articulate everything, but they do care. Between all of the business, or maybe because of it, they make my life beautiful. 

It took me a while to realize it, but rain makes things grow. The darker a night is, the brighter the stars are. I might be a little bit of a disaster, but I'm not alone. I don't know anything about anything, but maybe learning is what makes life exciting.

My problems don't all disappear in a flash. This isn't a fairytale. There are still bad days, lots of bad days. Sometimes I kick myself back to square one, maybe even lower than that, but every time I make it back up. The light is definitely shining through. I might not be perfect, but I think I'm going to be alright.

     Charlie, who sat on Betty’s other side, was talking on and on about the anatomy of a polar bear, brushing back his messy brown hair. He was tall and lean with frosty blue eyes. Despite the fact that he was a total nerd, all of the girls at school insisted that he was hot. I didn’t see it.

     I glanced back to see that Georgia, Charlie’s twin, was patiently translating what her brother said into non-sciency terms for little Fred, who wanted to be a scientist. He was staring at her with round blue eyes, hanging on every word with his mouth partly open. Georgia gestured with her delicate hands, silver bracelets sliding around as she talked. She was an angel, and there was something odd about that. I’d known her my whole life, but I still didn’t know her. I wondered what was beneath the surface.

     “Hey!” I shouted as Nicolas slammed into the back of my seat and jostled my sketchbook. “Watch it!”

     He didn’t respond, instead trying to get Fred into a headlock. In return, Fred punched him. I groaned and rolled my eyes as the boys continued to wrestle in the back seat. Grandma and Grandpa kept up a jolly conversation in the front.

     So now you’ve met the cousin clan. It was always like this when we all came to stay with our grandparents in New York for Christmas: chaos. Betty was my sister; she and I lived with our parents in Florida the rest of the year. The twins were also from Florida. Fred lived in Kentucky and Nicolas in Ohio. We all came to our grandparents' house every year for a month in winter. Hence the chaos.

     "Stop it! I want to hear about the polar bears!" Fred yelped.

     "Nerd!" Nicolas taunted.

     I turned my attention back to the window, tuning the boys out as we passed an elaborate nativity scene. I focused on Mary's glass face. It was carved into a delicate smile, her eyes closed. I wondered how it would really feel to be in the scene. 

     "You know, kids," Grandma said, right on cue, "Mary must have been the bravest woman ever to live. Imagine being the Savior's mother!" Grandma said the same thing every year when we passed the new nativity. It always made me think. How had Mary felt?

     Two days later I was sitting in the corner of a church sanctuary. Kids were running laps and bouncing balls in the room that unfolded before me. Their loud voices echoed under the high ceiling. Adults were chatting and laughing merrily. I could see soda spilled on the floor near the pizza table; cookie crumbs litteredhe gray carpet. My sketchbook was open in my lap. I scribbled a few lines down as I noticed two kids chasing each other with a spoon. The kids brushed through the front of the church and I watched as May fell from the nativity in front of the pulpit. I hesitated, then got up to fix the display. The ceramic figure was cold in my hand. I turned her over, contemplating.

     "You're Anne's granddaughter, right?" a voice asked from behind me. There stood a woman about my mom's age with dimpled cheeks.

     My face turned red as I nodded. "Someone knocked this over," I explained.

     "Gotcha," she smiled. "Anything you found particularly special about it?"

      "What?" my brain always seems to work a little slowly in conversations with unfamiliar people.

     "You looked thoughtful; I was wondering why," she shrugged.

     "Just making sure it isn't broken," I said quickly, my face still hot.

      At that moment a little boy started screaming about someone taking his juice box.

     "Hang on," the woman told me, rushing away to help the boy, who I assumed was her son.

     Once she left, I had time to think. Nobody had ever asked me what I was thinking about. Ever. My mind was a veil, my thoughts and questions hidden from the outside world. Nobody ever tried to remove the veil. Not me. Not anyone else. Someone noticing and outright asking what I was thinking about was new territory. Maybe it was a special opportunity.

     "Anyway," I said the moment the woman returned, " I was just wondering how Mary must've felt." I was proud of myself for getting the sentence out before I lost courage.

     The woman chuckled, "She must've leaned on God's grace a lot."

     Now I was picturing some god dancing ballet. "Grace?" I ventured.

     "Giving us what we don't deserve. God probably gave Mary peace despite the crazy situation."

     "Isn't that called mercy?"

     "Mercy is not giving us what we do deserve. How much of the story do you know?"

     I shrugged, "Isn't it a classic story?"

     "Do you know why baby Jesus is our Savior?"

     "Wasn't it because he… actually, no, I don't know," I realized, blushing.

     "He was born through a sinful woman into a sinful world. Everyone deserved to die. The world is still like that today. When He grew up, Jesus took the punishment for our sons by dying on a cross. You might've heard about that around Easter before. If you trust in Jesus, you can have mercy and he'll give you grace when you need it."

     I stared at the woman, skeptical. "Can the world really be that bad?"

     "Think of all the world's problems: war, terrorism, murder. It can absolutely be that bad. Think about your life. Have you ever done something wrong?"–I nodded—"Then you've sinned."

     "Is it always a big deal, though?" I was feeling uncomfortable.

     "Not compared to some things, but it is compared to the spotless world that God intended," the woman said.

     I shrugged, "I guess."

     "Give it some thought," she advised. Just then the kid started telling again and the woman disappeared in the chaotic room. I set Mary down and wandered back to my corner. 

     The world doesn't change in a day. Mine didn't. I nearly forgot about the encounter, but reminders kept popping up. I began to wonder at the lyrics of Joy to the World and other classic songs. I stumbled across a devotional for 25¢ while searching for gifts at the thrift store. I found a gospel tract in the mall bathroom. 

     One night, a few days before Christmas, I couldn't sleep. I reread the tract, flipped through the devotional, and played gospel songs in my earbuds on repeat. I was only getting more curious, so eventually I tiptoed past Betty and Georgia, down the hall, and into the living room. The TV sat on top of a cabinet full of movies and old tapes. Buried behind the Harry Potter series was something else, though: an old, dusty Bible that had belonged to my great-grandmother. I cracked open the ancient spine and flipped to a random book. John seemed good. I sat against the wall, partially concealed by the big tree with the popcorn and mismatched ornaments. I read by the pinkish glow of the lights. And I read. And I read some more. I made the choice that night.

     Fast forward a year. We're here looking at the ice sculptures again. Fred is on his own trying to understand Charlie's words as Georgia is oddly silent. I wonder what's going on in her head.

     "You're quiet," I say, twisting in my seat.

     She shrugs.

     "Want to get out of this chaotic car? It's fine if not."

     "Sure, that sounds good."

     I yell up to Grandpa, and he lets us out, agreeing to pick us up at the nativity in a while.

     "What are you thinkin about?" I venture as we make our way down a lane of frozen candy canes.

     "Nothing really, just… I don't know. I feel sort of invisible," she giggled.

     "I get that. I used to feel like all I ever did was wonder about people, but I couldn't interact with them."

     Georgia snorts.

     "Not just real people, either. I always wondered how Mary felt. I mean, she was real, but like… not contemporary."

     "I bet she was scared. At least if she was halfway human. All of that pressure to be some saint… yikes."

     "Maybe. I still wonder about a lot of things, but I think I know how Mary felt. I think she felt full, knowing that God saw her and saved her and that she had a purpose, you know? I think she felt heard."

     By now we're back at the nativity.

     "You lost me," Georgia laughs.

     I glance thoughtfully at Mary's statue. "How much of the story do you know?" I ask.

I can only escape

Into the grotto of my mind 

But it's lonely up there.

I want to share it with you.

Should I share it?

Please be my escape.

Can we run away together

Right where we are?

Maybe I should let go

But I don't know where to start

And it kills me to be like this

Writing another depressing poem

About everything and nothing

Seemingly real problems 

That don’t exist

But I need to get it out

Sometimes I want to run away

But the person I really need to escape is me

I could leave it all behind

To have a great adventure

But I'd still be by myself 

My thoughts wheeling faster 

I just want to go

But I know I won't

Why am I such a good kid 

Why do I have to care about others’ feelings

Why do I have to feel my own

I need an escape

I used to find it in my mind

But now everything is so tangled 

I’d get lost up there

I guess I'll just keep going

On this rocky path

I'll work until I am everything I want to be 

It might be the wrong mentality

But determination can't hurt

If I'm already broken

I'll keep pursuing my dreams 

And try to enjoy the journey

Even when it feels like the earth

Is swallowing me

I can't run away

But maybe I can fly to new heights

Someday

And me, the fool,

Writing them out so they look cool.

Am I thoughtful?

Am I deep,

Or is this just cheap,

A plastic cover 

Over my ravings and my rhymes

At the most confusingly normal of times.

fiercer until she thought her body would explode. She opened her mouth to cough or scream, but was met with the thick taste of rot. She writhed, kicking her arms and legs with the little strength she had left as the invisible enemy pursued her. It was no use, no matter which she turned, it was all the same. All black. All painful. Her mind was racing like a guinea pig on its wheel, so fast that she couldn’t catch any of the thoughts. Tears stung her eyes. Everything hurt. The world was spinning. That was when she saw a murky, green-brown light. She wasn't thinking at all, all she knew or cared about was reaching that light. Her own body was a blur as she thrashed with all her might. At last she bobbed up into blinding sunlight, coughing fiercely and gasping for air. She fell under again almost immediately, but kicked her way up once again. The water almost seemed angry, though. She was only able to hack out one strained shriek for help before it forced her under again. This time she stopped fighting. The world was already dark. Now it was going numb, too. 

"Are you sure that's all you remember? Sarah asks as Kayla finishes retelling the story.

"Uh huh,” Kayla replies in a hollow tone. "After that I woke up on the beach and you were there, and we started talking. You mentioned a friend named Kayla and I thought that was familiar. You know what happened since then." She says it all without any emotion, fiddling with the pink petals of a nearby flower as she talks. They are hidden in Sarah's garden, which is between Mrs. Wilson's house and the shed that serves as Sarah and Kayla's bedroom. The shed is tucked back into the dry weeds where nobody notices it. Because nobody ever goes back there, the garden is a bit secret. The reason it has to be secret is because clean water is scarce in the town. It needs to be brought in from other places, but it's getting scarce there, too. Not only does Sarah need to share her rations to make the flowers grow, she needs to protect the flowers from the toxic rain. Because of these inconvenient factors, gardening is illegal. Sarah can't give up her garden, though. It's the only place where she feels like she can breathe, both literally and mentally. Now sunlight is slanting through the leaves and landing on the rusty bench where Sarah and Kayla sit. Sunflowers are growing up to their left, and the ground ahead is carpeted in purple. Two white butterflies are playing in the air, and a bird chirps not far away.

"I know what happened from there up until you saw those butterflies and said they reminded you of something. What was it?" 

“I don't know.”

"Well, think! Don't you want to remember?" Sarah presses gently. Kayla shruggs.

"Hey, I get that knowing can be hard. I know how my parents died, and now I'm afraid of fire, but I'd still rather have that than just cluelessness."

Kayla is silent. 

"Do you want to live in the dark?"

"I really don't care." 

"Do you care about anything?"

“No.”

“I should've known, I guess. Ever since I met you, you haven't smiled once. You're beautiful, but you’d be so much prettier if you smiled.” Sarah pauses thoughtfully.

Kayla knows what she wants to ask, but she is hesitant. "Do you think I have a personality?"

Sarah doesn't know what to say. She doesn't want to be rude, but Kayla needs her to answer honestly. "I think you could have one,” is all she can offer. 

"I knew I didn't,” Kayla states almost matter-of-factly.

"I'm sorry.”

“But you think I could?" There is almost a hint of emotion in her tone. The tiniest glint of hope. "Of course, who's stopping you?" 

"I don't know. Somebody."

"What?" 

"I think... I think I used to have a personality. I used to care. I can just barely геmember what it felt like. I want it back, but I just... can't. Something won't let me." 

"Kayla! Why didn't you tell me sooner?" Sarah asks, excited. 

Kayla shrugs."What's the point?"

"The fact that you want it proves there's still something there! Whatever is holding you up,

we can work past it. Nothing can block you from being yourself!" Sarah exclaims, her brown eyes sparkling passionately.

Kayla just stares into space.

“Pease. Just try,” Sarah pleads more gently. 

Kayla continues to sit perfectly still, her graceful hands folded in her lap, for an unnaturally long time. 

"Kayla?" Sarah begins to get worried. “What's going on?”

Kayla still doesn't move, but her breathing gradually gets heavier until she is panting as if in terror. 

"Kayla..."

All at once she sucks in her breath and springs up off of the bench. She leans against a small blossoming tree and does the most shocking thing while still catching her breath. She smiles-- no, grins. True to what Sarah said earlier, Kayla is a thousand times more beautiful when she smiles. Her pale skin lights up and two perfect dimples appear on her smooth cheeks. Her petite nose scrunches ever so slightly and, most importantly, her crystal blue eyes open wide to let the world in. She is so shocked, all she can do is laugh.

Sarah, taken aback, can't help giggling, too. “Kayla! Are you ok?" she manages to squeeze out. 

Kayla shakes her head, causing her curls to bounce before answering. "Not Kayla! I know who I really am!"

"What?" Sarah stops giggling and stares into the eyes of Kayla, who has also regained her composure. "Did you say…” 

Kayla nods. "You were right, nothing can stop me! I remember everything! I have a personality!” 

Sarah doesn't know how to respond. “Kayla, that's... amazing!" 

"I remember my real name, too. Call me Kalalaya.”

"Kalalaya?" 

She nods.

"That's not a normal name. I love it." 

"It's not normal for humans, anyway." 

"Wait..." 

"I'd better explain from the beginning."

So Kalalaya tells the whole story. As it turns out, she isn't human. She's a living particle of water. The community that she lived in before makes up the lake near Sarah's hometown where the foul water comes from. They are called the cursed, because they were doomed to a stagnant life of waste by the evil witch, Genella. Legends claim that Genella cursed the community by mistake in an experiment but didn’t bother trying to fix the damage. Nobody could punish her since the crime was unintentional, but she still faced seclusion. The lack of contact with other creatures and the knowledge that everyone was blaming her made Genella  hard and bitter.

The curse made everyone useless. Some got angry and rebelled, completing their usual journeys anyway. This spread the poison farther and harmed the crops in town. Most just stayed put, living a useless life of nothingness. Spirits in the community sank low and lives became bland. Kalalaya handled it differently. She knew she couldn't let anger control her since that only harmed others, but she wasn't going to sit around and let life pass by without any action, either. What she did was make her own fun and adventures where she was, spreading her happiness and curiosity with the rest of the community to ease the gloom. Life was pretty good for Kalalaya, who never stopped dreaming about going on journeys someday, but what she didn't know was that she had an enemy. It was Genella, who was by that point an angry and depressed creature who didn’t want anyone to be happy without her. With nothing better to do, she set her focus on getting rid of Kalalaya.

An opportunity came sooner than Genella had expected when rumors started spreading about a water creature who'd turned into a human. Kalalaya thought that would be the perfect opportunity for adventure, so she began searching out ways to do it herself. That was when Genella reached out in disguise and offered to perform the magic on the over-eager girl.

"We met in a cave where she told me to go a few weeks ago, and then she cornered me and revealed who she really was and that her plan was to turn me into a dull human forever to get rid of me,” Kalalaya goes on.

"Why would she tell you?” Sarah asks, eyes wide. 

"I'll bet she wanted to see me afraid, rotten scum--"

"Were you afraid?"

“Well, I don't think anyone could be pleased about something like this! But it's over now, and I have my personality back, so it worked out." 

“Did it, now?” a high, cruel voice demanded from the side of the garden, making both girls jump. They turn to see a tall, bony figure standing with her hands on her hips. Her wrinkled face is creased in a permanent frown.

"Mrs. Wilson! W-why are you--" Sarah begins. 

"Sarah, dear! I asked you to wash the dishes ages ago! Now stop playing in fairyland and show some gratitude for what I've done for you!" Mrs. Wilson snaps, uprooting a sunflower and tossing it aside as she talks. 

"Yes m--”

"Wait!" Kalalaya puts her arm out to stop Sarah from standing up. 

"Ah, and Kayla--"

Kalalaya growels at this. 

“--you never emptied the waste bin, and now I've got to do it myself.” With that, Mrs. Wilson picks up a basket the girls hadn't noticed before and dumps its contents into a patch of petunias. 

"You can't just--”

"That's going to hurt my people!” 

"Oh, that's right, Kalalaya, was it?" 

"How long have you been listening?" 

"Long enough to know what I need to know." 

"And that means…”

“I know that my fool of a sister is at it again. I'm on her side this time, but of course she can't pull it off! Now I'll need to step in." 

"Wait, did you say--”

"Yes, yes, what a shock. Unfortunately, Genella is my sister.”

"But you're a human..."

"Did you honestly think she just made that one mistake? I'm another of her failed experiments. Filthy rat turned me human, can't turn me back." 

"Then why are on her side now?" Kalalaya asks, immersed in the story.

"You were this close to breaking her curse with your happiness--" Mrs. Wilson spits this word out, “--and they don't deserve to fly free while I'm stuck here. Getting rid of you was the best bet. Since she couldn't do it, I will," Mrs. Wilson raises her voice on the last two words, making both girls jump. In a quick motion, she has them hovering in the air above the bench. They both shriek at the same time. Kalalaya begins kicking and writhing in the air while Sarah freezes in terror.

"Let us go!" Kalalaya shouts. With a nod of her head, Mrs. Wilson dropps both girls to the ground. Sarah crashes into the corner of the bench and sits panting on the ground. Kalalaya Falls onto a thorny rose bush. "Thanks," she grumbles. 

"That was just for fun. Now it's time to finish what my idiot sister started!" 

"She's going to take away your passion. Do something!" Sarah whispers urgently. 

Kalalaya immediately begins to panic. Palms sweating, she has the feeling like she's suffocating. It's the same way she felt when Genella cursed her the first time. But she made it through that. She can do it again. Before she knows what she's doing, she stands up and realizes that Mrs. Wilson is on the ground breathing hard. "What did I just do?" Kalalaya asks.

"Something,” Sarah breathes.

"Did I... take her powers?"

"Looks like it."

Mrs. Wilson is now pulling herself up, sputtering and swearing. She waves her arms at the girls like mad, but nothing happens. 

"Were you too strong for her?"

"I guess." 

"I wonder if you could defeat Genella, too. Would that break the curse?" 

"It makes sense. Going after the source has to work better than ignoring the problem. I'll just have to figure out how to get to her." 

"Are you aware that you're shrinking?" 

"Ah! What? Sarah, I think I'm changing back!" Kalalaya is already half as tall as her friend. 

"Well, that explains how you'll get to Genella."

"Will I be strong enough to defeat her?" 

"Of course. You can handle anything."

"What about Mrs. Wilson?"

"I'll get the police to take care of her."

"And you?”

"I'll be fine, but will I ever see you again?"

"Every time it rains, "Kalalaya promises just as she shrinks so small that Sarah can't see her.

Dad called it Abbyland.

I was always singing along 

To the theme songs of my favorite cartoons 

Over and over

And playing ponies 

All day long

But then the cheesy songs faded out

And the ponies trotted away

Gradually,

So I didn't notice.

Now I'm fourteen years old,

Something I never thought would happen. 

Here I am.

I used to think I'd never change, 

That I couldn't if I tried.

Now I'm not so sure.

I'm a teenager.

How long before I dress like it? 

When will I start to hide myself in makeup?

How long before my dolls go untouched? When will video games rot my mind? 

Has it already started?

I like a boy band. 

This is the beginning of the end.

Maybe I should just give in

And follow the trends, 

But I don't want to be

Just any regular teen. 

I'm not giving up on me.

I guess this is normal. 

I'm just growing, 

But what if we can grow too far?

What if we can forget who we are? 

When do we outgrow our personality? 

Am I leaving myself behind me? 

What if I could just flip back a page

And be that little girl again?

Who is she?

Where is she?

I want her

To still be me.

I guess it's good

That life goes on

And bad times pass, 

But what's the price?

The good times fade off, too,

And we're left

To miss ourselves.

I'm thinking all this through,

My mind is one big mess,

When the sun smiles down on me,

Relieving all the stress.

I'm six years old again,

Reaching for the sky. 

Limits, they don't matter. 

I feel like I can fly.

Nothing has changed.

We don't change. 

We can't. 

What if we just expand? 

I've learned to try new things,

And that is good.

I don't need dolls or ponies to be me,

And that is good.

The present is forming around the past,

Like the rings of a tree

Coming in fast. 

The first is still there,

Close to the core.

Maybe it's just hiding

To make room for more.

Maybe if I let it happen 

And don't go to extreme or extreme,

It'll happen gracefully

And that tree

Will still be me.

Maybe I should just live for life 

And like what I like. 

I don’t usually go with the flow,

But I won't try or try not to grow. 

Maybe someday I'll buy ripped jeans 

And try a croptop,

But if I do,

I hope I'll smile in the mirror

And remember to remember

Every heartbeat that brought me there. 

Remember who I was, 

Who will still be

Who I am.

Remember to cherish every moment.

I'll learn a little maturity,

But I won't lose me.

I've always been here. 

Is it wrong to like good music?

Am I still me if I don't watch kids shows? 

The outside doesn't define me.

I know

I will always be 

That child

At heart.

What if things are fixed differently for others?

What if some things aren’t fixed at all?

What if anything is possible?

That’s the only logic.

My heart believes in magic.

My head believes it, too,

But deep deep down, 

In both head and heart,

I know I'll never see it. 

The closet holds no world for me.

There's nothing between platforms nine and ten. 

I believe in magic,

But magic won't believe in me.

I have seen magic.

Oh, silly me!

I don't need the talking animals.

I can do without the spells.

I have seen magic—

The magic of a smile, 

The magic of transfiguring tears, 

And time’s own diamond vial.

I believe in fairy bells

That tinkle as we laugh, 

In the vigorous dance of life,

And the beat to which we tap

I believe in worlds of words,

Pages that invite you in.

I believe in color and in light,

Where magic can begin.

I believe in magic, 

The magic of my life.

I may never meet a unicorn

Or greet the mighty centaur,

But who’s to say

That they aren’t real?

Magic is real.

After all,

We're alive

And surrounded by magic

All the time.

Not about that,

But what about who I was,

Who I will be? 

If I can change so fast, 

Who am I, really? 

What does any of it mean?

Six pages 

Of trying to understand myself, 

Of brain battles,

Of tangling myself around.

I'm a spider 

Caught in my own web. 

What have I found?

Nothing.

I'm more confused than ever. 

I've only learned that I,

Whoever I am,

Am my own worst enemy.

I still have six pages.

Six pages

That I'm trying to unscramble,

Six pages

That I will figure out.

Six pages

Can't get the best of me.

Whoever I am,

I'm determined.

Six pages

Don't stand a chance.

I want to hear your song all night.

School starts going extra slow.

I spend twenty minutes on a question I know.

The music is the only thing on my mind.

It's all confusing;

I still feel fueled,

But so ill-timed.

School lasts all day long

And my night is burned on the song.

I have nothing to do with the ideas, you see,

I’ve run out of time to be me.

This is like a drug. 

It's like a medicine,

But I'm addicted.

It helps me, 

Heals me,

But too much only gets me hurt. 

Now I'm sick and burned.

"What did I do?"

I need to balance on this narrow tightrope. 

You inspire me to take the best of life, 

Make the best in life, 

So I just need to stop,

Focus,

Hit reset,

And full speed ahead. 

You're my fuel

As long as I'm careful

So you don't become my engine fire.

As long as I don’t start a fire,

You can only bring me higher.

But I keep pulling myself down.

How do I get out of my way?

This is all nothing.

I'm making it up in my head

But it feels so real.

Why do I almost like it?

A hundred words I'm trying to say

Blare in my ears,

But I can feel the immense silence

Behind them.

Am I really saying anything?

I want to pour my heart out,

To write my every feeling,

But I don't know where to start 

Or where to go. 

Is this real?

I don't understand. 

I don't know.

But there's a pencil in my hand

And I'm holding on to it.

Holding on to my words, 

All of the colorful thoughts in my mind.

Holding on to each smile

That floats me through the day. 

Holding on.

I guess I'll start there.

Every night

I feel heavy as a weight.

‘Sleep tonight,

I'll do tomorrow right,’

I always tell myself.

So the cycle goes.

Filled with painful ninety percents

On schoolwork

And too many saves on Pinterest.

In between.

My words mean nothing.

I say what I'll do

To start or end the circular day,

But I never do it.

I say it to keep my wheels turning.

I don't want to stop moving. 

Even if I ride in the same old ruts 

Over and over again,

At least I'm moving.

The circle grows smaller

Little by little.

I'm growing dizzy. 

I spiral smaller and smaller

And soon I'll have nowhere to go.

Dizzy, so dizzy.

I need to get out. 

I need to break free.

These ruts, 

Why do they hold me?

I'm done

Running in circles.

There are infinite tomorrows,

More blank pages,

New roads to explore.

A whole future for me to write.

I need to start somewhere.

I'll go for today

Before today is yesterday.

It might be scary,

But I'm so dizzy there are stars in my eyes,

So I don't care. 

I'm going for it.

The rut is broken.

No more, 'This or that will be the time.’

This

Is

The time.

Now my head is clear.

I move towards them but I’m lost

I can hardly turn my mind on 

Just faded mists of dreams

Beyond the reach of language

Maybe I’ll just express with color beams

I’d better try before they turn beige

Imagination is necessary to fill in the cracks and make an interesting story, but that means nothing if readers can't connect to the character. An author's personal experience is what makes the work credible, so that readers can connect.

Finally, there are the emotions involved on the author's part. Sometimes it might not matter so much what the experience does for the novel, but what putting the experience in the novel does for the author. Once in a while when I have a question or problem I'm worried about, I'll give it to a character and write a story to figure it out. This is extremely relieving. If other authors also do this, then Wharton probably just started writing because she was frustrated and had nothing else to do about the situation. That is called writing for yourself first and then others, and a lot of stories come out better that way.

To answer the original question, writing what you know is very effective (although it's important to spice it up with creativity, too.) The personal life of an author helps shape the author and that shapes the author's work. Wharton's experience helped her novel by making it more credible and more compelling.

Needless to say, these two responses are dramatically different. Surely the people in Hester's community had all sinned, just like the people in John 8, but they chose only to focus on what Hester did, because it seemed worse. Jesus, on the other hand, pointed out that we are all sinners. Every small sin is despicable to God, and everyone deserves to die for their sin. We are only saved by God’s mercy, so we shouldn't condemn others. 

I don't really have to say whose response was better. When dealing with someone else’s sin we should try to act like Jesus acted. As always, we get the best result when we follow His example.

What about history? Were past wars worth fighting to Christians? Let's take a look at the Declaration of Independence, for example. Thomas Jefferson did give several good reasons for the colonies to be upset with the King of Britain, but did these reasons have to lead to wars? Something had to be done but I don't think the situation had to be as extreme as it was. They should have protested kindly, talked it out and consulted the Bible a bit more before starting a full out revolution.

What about now? Coronavirus obsession is still going on along with Black Lives Matter protests. With the election coming up, the level of crazy in this country isn't going down. Some people post their every thought and opinion on social media. Others throw rocks at cars and burn buildings. What should we do? Like in any situation, we should follow the Bible above all. If we have to speak out, we should do so in a way that is both loving and logical.

That was a lot of words, but here is the main point of it all: be thoughtful, be careful, be peaceful, and always look at God's Word first.

     "Friend? Molly's your friend now? Molly?" Mindy asked scornfully.

     My face became a furnace as my stomach dropped to my toes. "What? No! She just won't leave me alone! I thought she was too small to be a real threat, even if she is Japanese, so I didn't bother trying to get rid of her." I don't know why I said that. It wasn't true, I just hated Mindy's tone.

     I was thinking all of this over when suddenly I heard the roar of an engine overhead. What the... I looked up to see a bomber with the Japanese symbol on it. I whipped my head around to cast an uneasy glance at the harbor to my right.

---------

     Days later I looked out the window to find a completely different island. The beaches were guarded with barbed wire and most of the ship's were gone. Destroyed. 2,335 men were killed plus 68 civilians. 1,178 more were wounded, including 35 innocent people standing by. I was one of those 35.

       I shuddered at the memory. The smoke had thickened the sky in an instant and the sharp fumes had made me dizzy. Debris from our ships were flying everywhere. I tried to run but suddenly I was slammed to the ground. I couldn't feel my legs. The whole world had begun to spin. I was sure that I was dead when I saw Lillian. She was running towards me in all of the mayhem. The world went black before anything else could happen.

     The next thing I knew I was seated on the couch with my mom. The scent of tea sweetened the air. Lillian was gone. I never saw her again after that. I never got to thank her. Or to apologize.

      Mom's are so perfect. They know when you need to talk and when all you want to do is curl up the legs you can't feel and cry because you're so confused by this point that you don't know what to say or even think. They know that sometimes you just have to let something out, so they let you scream like a madman as loud as you like. They also know when all you need is a good book.

       Oh, it felt so wonderful to be on solid ground once more! We had really made it. Well... not all of us. I remembered my brother with a sharp pang of sadness. Taking a shaking breath, I reminded myself that he was in heaven now.

     My legs wobbled beneath me, for they had grown accustomed to the tossing waves and the constant rocking. Unable to stand, I knelt down and have thanks to God instead. All around me other people knelt in prayer, too. It was like a Sunday's service right then and there. We hadn't even planned it out.

      It was the dead of winter. I shivered through my worn cloak and work dress, but the view below made it all worth it. The wilderness of trees and bushes before us was laced in a delicate frost that made even the thorns beautiful. It was as if a great spider had woven her web all around the forest. I had seen plenty of snow before in England, but it had never lost it's beauty to me. Something about this land was different, though. I was meant to be here. Agitated grumbles swelled up around me after some time, but all I could hear was the singing of my heart.

     Wild animals ran by, much surprised to find us at their doorstep, but they weren't what the leaders were worried about. I peeked  between shivering shoulders and made my way through the growing crowd to see what the trouble was. I heard cold whispers of "Barbarians" and "Wild men" that sent ants up my spine. But when at last I got to the front of the crowd, I saw nothing of the sort. What I saw was a small group of men with flesh and bones not so different from mine. They all had two arms, two legs, and faces just like me. So what was everyone scared of? Their skin was strangely dark and their clothes so very different, but what did that matter?

I was lost in thought long after I finished the introduction. How could this girl be so cheerful against all odds? I guess she was just doing what she could to make the situation better. Why couldn't I do that? I could try a new view. Lillian was gone. There wasn't anything I could do about that. What I could do was change my friends' opinions on her. Maybe one day she would come back and find an island ready to accept her, to admit that we are all humans. Maybe we could all take on a new view. 

named Makaila. The story was called "Magical Makaila". It was very heavily inspired by Sofia the First and Cinderella even made a special appearance in it. I was proud of my tiny illustrated book when it was finished and stapled together (though I'm not sure where I got all the supplies). I think it was Grandma who said that Great Grandma would love for me to read her my story and Dad who explained that Great Grandma wasn't able to talk so I knew she wasn't ignoring me.

    So the two of them took me to the small room where she was. I think I got a hug from those weak arms. She looked so different laying there in some hospital gown instead of her usual big shirts with teddy bears and kittens on them in old lady designs. I sat down and read the story and she smiled when it was finished. I don't exactly remember what happened next, but in a while we were in our red van again, getting ready to leave. I remember most of the time I felt a little bit nervous but mostly indifferent about the whole situation. I didn't think she could die because I just couldn't imagine it. But then Dad was telling us about her last breath and how she had smiled, excited to see the Lord. "Don't say 'last breath,'" Kennedy said through tears. "It sounds too sad."

    I love my Great Grandma, who, even while she was dyeing, listened to me yammer on about princesses. She heard my first story and I can picture her up there smiling about how far I've come. Great Grandma was an amazing Christian woman and I know she is in heaven praising God right now. I can't wait to see her again one day and read her another story. This one will be about God's grace.

Him[God]. He does as He pleases among the angels of heaven and the people of the earth. No one can stop Him or say to Him, 'What do You mean by doing these things?'"  This is basically saying that God is more powerful than anyone or anything else, He does whatever He wants (and since He is perfect and all-knowing, this is a very good thing), and nobody can stop or question Him. Isaiah 46:10 says something similar: "Only I[God] can tell you the future before it even happens. Everything I plan will come to pass, for I do whatever I wish." 

     Now we know that God can make good out of bad, but we need to know if He does. While God does sometimes bring just judgement on people, Romans 8:28 says, "And we know that God causes everything to work out for those who love God and are called according to His purpose for them." This means that Christians don't have to worry! If we truly love God and want whatever He wants for us, everything will eventually come together to help us in some way, be it obvious or unexpected. 

      Though it may not seem like it, God always has a purpose that will ultimately benefit believers. I am not saying that if we believe in God we'll get all the possessions we want and our lives will immediately be perfect, not at all! All I'm saying is that God is on our side and He knows what's best for us in the long run and how to make it happen, even if it makes no sense to us at the time. 

world. Now everyone in the world is a sinner.

     The penalty for sin is death but the good news is that God sent His Son, Jesus Christ (who was fully God and fully man, and therefore sinless) to die on a cross as the sacrifice for all of our sins. Now that Jesus died to forgive us of our sin, we can go to heaven if we trust in Him. We also need to ask God to forgive us of our sins and He will. 

     Heaven is a perfect place with no sin where God and everyone who has left this world trusting in Him lives. It is a paradise where God is praised all day long with joy. No matter how hard things get here, those of us who believe in God and all He has done can have the hope of heaven to chase our fear away. We know this world's problems aren't permanent and one day we will be in perfect paradise praising Him. 

     This is why I drew the earth flying apart with the cross in the middle, standing in one piece. If you look, you will see that there are lines coming from the cross to keep the world from completely falling apart. Jesus died on the cross so one day we can go to heaven, this hope can be what keeps our world from completely flying apart.

Dressing up my dolls,

Dancing along to Disney theme songs,

And making my friends laugh. 

I'm a bit dramatic.

(Maybe more than a bit)

I can be serious when I want to,

I like some "boring" things, 

And I'm really good at school,

But it all just adds to the vibrant mesh of me,

Who I've always been

And who I'll always be. 

There's just one thing.

I'm 14 years old,

Something I never thought would happen. 

I used to say I'd never be a teenager.

Well, here I am. 

I'd say I'd never change,

But now I'm not so sure.

"I'll always like My Little Pony." 

"No you won't."

"I'll never like a boy band."

"Yes you will." 

They were right. 

I don't know what happened to my pony figures

But they're gone 

And I don't care like I want to. 

I can't believe it

But I'm a fan of BTS. 

I can't help but love their personality,

Their message,

Their music.

Is it wrong to love good music? 

Am I still me if I don't watch kid shows anymore? 

It all sounds so stupid,

But if that can change so fast,

What else will I gain and lose?

I'm a teenager.

How long before I dress like one? 

How long before my dolls go untouched? 

When will I start to hide myself in makeup? 

When will violent video games rot my mind? 

I don't want to grow up.

They make it sound all great on TV,

But it's a trap.

"Life goes on.”

Yes, it's great to learn and grow, 

To let the bad times pass, 

But what's the price? 

Am I losing myself? 

Am I leaving me behind?

When do we outgrow our personality?

How do I stop myself from doing it?

What if we grow too far? 

What if we forget who we are?

I've never been able to go with the flow, 

But I don't think I'll try or try not to grow. 

I think I'll just let the real me show, 

Whoever I am, wherever I go.

Maybe I'll just live for life

And like whatever I like.

Does growth have to mean change? 

I could just be expanding.

The present is forming around the past;

It's like the rings of a tree

Coming in fast.

The first is still in there,

Close to the core.

Maybe it's just hiding

To make room for more.

Maybe if I let it happen

And don't go to extreme or extreme,

It'll happen gracefully.

And that tree 

Will still be me.

I don't understand it all,

But here's what I know:

Right now I have a fuzzy sweater on, 

Right now the world outside is beautiful,

Right now I like my dolls,

Right now I'm jamming to a boy band, 

Right now there's a smile on my face,

Right now everything is ok,

And right now is a day I want to save.

No matter what the future brings, 

No matter how I grow,

This is now 

And I'll always have the memories. 

If I ever decide

To wear ripped jeans and crop tops, 

I hope I'll smile in the mirror 

And remember.

I'm still the same little girl

On the inside.

I cannot catch a hair! 

Not even a dress hem!

If you find my words, 

Please let me know. 

They fly away like birds,

But I don't want to let them go!

Of my innocent MG books. 

And just a bit too scared

For the daunting YA ones.

Too big for my old, simple bike,

 Too short for my 10-speed.

Young enough still to love my dolls,

Old enough to be embarrassed about it. 

I can enter the contests for teens, 

But their writing all stands over mine. 

I'm eye level with their elbows, 

And their shoulders lock together,

Blocking out the sky for me. 

The days of those clean stanzas 

With ever-perfect rhyme, 

They are all gone.

My words are scrambled, 

But falling back together 

In a lovely loose verse. 

I will be a butterfly 

And spread my colorful wings

With an intensified joy, 

With more freedom than ever

To be me.

Am I a poet?

I don't match any poems I've read.

Am I a poet?

I love to write what's on my mind.

Am I a post?

Inspiration is easy to find.

Am I a poet?

With beautiful words I captivate.

Am I a poet?

I was made by a God who can create.

Am I a poet?

He gave me love for poetry.

Am I a poet? 

I write for Him with glee. 

I am a poet.

So an anxious mind is hard to control.

But it can be stopped!

Though it may seem to be impossible,

God can do anything,

He is in control,

And He loves to help His children.

All we must do is think of

And be thankful for

God and His many blessings.

It takes time and effort, but

God will help defeat that monster in your mind.

I want to say we're all good. 

People show kindness to others. 

We create so much beauty

With our minds.

How could we not be good?

"And God looked at all He had made

And it was very good."

We are good,

Right?

But what about the evil?

I can't help but see it all around. 

Look at politics, 

And tell me all is good.

There are liars and thieves,

So we can't possibly be good! 

"No one is good. 

No, not one.”

I refuse to believe

That people are evil. 

I can't truthfully say 

That we are all good. 

What then? 

Is the world dark or light?

Black or white? 

I don't know which to choose. 

I don't know what to do.

Look at the chart of shades and tints.

What is between black and white? 

Each shade of gray 

Is a different person. 

White is good,

Black is evil,

And we are gray. 

Some good and some evil in each. 

We aren't good.

We aren't evil.

We're grey.

We have some of both.

Any evil defiles us,

But it doesn't have to define us.

Let the good in me

Be what counts.

You can't take away a deed,

Good can’t be erased,

But evil alone can be forgiven.

What happened to me? 

What about dolls and poofy skirts?

How long before they go too? 

What about crop tops and violent movies? 

How long before I'm into that? 

Has it already started?

"Life goes on,” 

But what if I don't want it to?

What if I could just flip back a page

And be a little girl again? 

Who is she? 

Where is she? 

Just when I start to understand

Life gets crazy once again.

What if life didn't go on?

What if I could just hit pause?

Bad times pass,

Sure, that's great, 

But what about the good times?

I want to stay forever

In my little world of ponies,

But I can't.

Life goes on.

Bad times pass.

Good times stick around.

I'll always have the memories.

They go on and on with life

As I make more every day.

It was never about the ponies,

And liking good music was never a sin.

It's about being me.

I'm not defined by dolls or skirts.

If I ever like shorter shirts or video games, 

I'll still be me.

Nothing important can really change.

Life goes on. 

I grow.

But I still have the same smile. 

I always will. 

The only thing that's changed? 

I've learned to try new things.

   Suddenly Amy was flying farther, much farther, than she should have been. She was still sitting on the seat of the swing. . . but the ropes had come untied at the highest point! Amy braced herself for the impact. Her stomach fluttered in anticipation of the fall, and then something changed.

    Amy was still swinging. She was as high as when she was about to fall, but she came gently back down, and up again, and down. As the swing slowed to a stop, Amy looked at her surroundings. The swing looked very different; the seat, now carved and twisted, hung from the tree on two long, deep green vines. Leaves and bright pink flowers of all sizes grew on them. Nearby Amy saw a huge deer gracefully bend down to take a drink in the lake, which sparkled in the pale sunshine. All was peaceful. Amy wasn't the least bit afraid of the large animal. The ground was all mossy hills and valleys. Trees were growing all around and big butterflies were everywhere.

    ''Excuse me, Mr. Deer, could you please come over here and tell me what in the world is going on?'' Amy asked. The child knew that animals do not normally talk, but she asked the question and was not at all surprised when the deer answered.

     ''I cannot come over, I am sorry to say. Deer are not allowed in the fairy kingdom, we may accidentally hurt someone. It is a shame, though, I've always wanted to try some of the fairies' cake,'' he said.

''Fairies? Am I a fairy now? Is that why you look so big?'' Amy wondered.

 ''Certainly,  you came here to find a hobby and even though you don't have wings, there are many fairies who will help you as if you are one,'' the deer explained. Amy was amazed.

    So the fairies helped Amy find a hobby. At first it didn't go well.

    ''I'm sorry I spilled your paint, Andy, I'll help you clean it up,'' Amy apologized to the art fairy.

Andy laughed and her smile sparkled just as much as her magical wings. "At least you got just the purple shade I needed, but it shouldn't be in the sky! Don't worry, I can fix it," she said. They were painting in a meadow full of flowers in all shades of purple.

    ''Maybe cleaning is your hobby, you could balance out your clumsiness,'' Cassie, the craft fairy, joked after Amy made another mess. The shelves lining the craft room were covered in pink slime and even Cassie's bouncy curls had glue in them.

    ''Wow, am I bad at singing, but at least I don't have to clean anything up this time, unless I shattered one of those big windows,'' Amy laughed to Mira, the music fairy.

"You didn't. Don't worry, I know you'll find your hobby soon," Mira said. Her big blue eyes told the truth.

    Finally, Amy tried baking with a fairy named Brittany. ''OK, let's make fairy cake,'' Brittany said, ''It's sweeter than you are!'' When Brittany smiled, dimples appeared on her chocolate-colored cheeks. The tidy kitchen had everything imaginable to use for baking organized nicely. Three flower spills and a dozen broken eggs later, it wasn't looking nearly as neat.

''I'm sorry I made such a mess, I was distracted by an idea: why don't just a few fairies fly treats over to the animals. I'm sure the animals won't accidentally hurt them if there's only a few,'' Amy explained.

''What a great idea!'' Brittany said. ''Let's get started right away!''

     Soon the whole kingdom was abuzz with plans for the animals. A party was planned so that all the fairies could get together to cook food big enough.

     ''I see you've found your hobby, little one,'' said Opal, an elderly fairy whose wrinkled face was framed in long snow white hair.

''What do you mean?''

"Well, you enjoy helping animals, and you're wonderful at it,'' Opal explained, ''It's not just animals either, look how excited everyone is because of you. A real talent you have.'' Suddenly Amy understood. 

''Oh thank you! You all helped me find my hobby, and it even helps others!'' she cried.

     ''In Mark 9:35, Jesus says, 'Whoever wants to be first must take last place and be the servant of everyone else.' That means that if you are humble and make it your ability, or hobby, to serve others, you will become great,'' Opal said.

Amy beamed as she surveyed the scene around her. "It works fast," she said, "This is already pretty great!"

in Girl World,' Steffeny thought as she ran to the car and threw her stuff in the trunk. ‘Here we go!’ As she buckled her seatbelt she wondered what adventures lie ahead.

Steffeny woke up to a gentle tap on her shoulder.

“Time to wake up sleepyhead!" her mom said, "We're in Paris!" Steffeny sat bolt upright, sending a notebook and pencil sailing onto the floor. Oops, hurriedly she picked up her things. 

"Mom do you know where my phone went?" Steffeny asked as she ruffled through her bag. 

"I have it in my bag charging. You took some cool pictures by the way," her mom said. 

"Thanks, too bad the height made me so dizzy I couldn't take any more pictures," Steffeny said. 

“At least you got some, now let's wake up those boys and start our adventure!" her mom said. "Already on it, WAKE UP ERIC!" Steffeny hollered as she jumped on Eric's legs and pulled away his blanket. 

“Alright, alright, I'm awake!" Eric laughed. 

“Kids, we are still on a plane!" their mom scolded. 

"Sorry Mom," they both said at the same time. Soon their dad was awakened and they headed off. Two hours later the four of them were riding through the heart of France in a taxi. "Mom! I think I see the Eiffel Tower!" Steffany shouted. 

"Oh look there it is!" Mom said. 

"Wow," said Dad. 

"Cool!" said Eric. They all stared at the beautiful structure for a long time, speechless. 

“It's like one of those aesthetic pictures you see on the internet but in real life!" Steffeny finally exclaimed. 

“Oh shoot, I left my phone in my bag in the trunk,” Eric said. 

"Dang, so did I,” Steffeny said. 

“Mine's dead." Dad said.

“I don't have a very good angle from up here but don't worry, we have a tour of the city tomorrow by Shaline so we can get lots of pictures then. 

“Yeah!” Dad exclaimed. 

“Woo-hoo!” Steffeny cried. 

“Awesome!” Eric shouted. 

"Mom, Dad, wake up, is that the hotel?" Eric asked, nudging his parents awake.

"Oh my gosh I think that's it!” Steffeny squealed. It was very late so they loaded their luggage into their master suit and then crashed down in the beds. The next morning everybody woke up at 1:30pm Paris time. Except Steffeny, she woke up at 10:20am Paris time and finished writing in her diary. Once that was finished she pulled out a purple notebook and began a story about a girl who traveled to Paris all alone, hoping to become an architect by studying the Eiffel Tower. Steffeny paused, biting the eraser nub of her pencil. “It was as if the whole world stopped for a moment as Linda stared up at the amazing structure. It shot straight up into the black sky. Lights flickered on top of the tower, probably tourists. A loud ‘honk!’ sent the girl back to reality. Linda turned around and froze as she saw a navy blue SUV headed straight towards her!" Steffeny stopped and examined her work with satisfaction. "Steffeny! Come have some lunch!" she heard her Dad call.

“Coming!" Steffeny replied as she set her notebook on her bedside table.

"Is Shaline up yet? Please say she is!" Stelleny asked as she skipped into the large suite's kitchen. 

"Right here waiting for you little sis,” Shaline said from somewhere behind Steffeny. She whirled around and was caught up in a huge hug from her sister. 

“I missed you so much!” she said, trying not to cry.

“I missed you, too, but I'm glad you got to come here. You are going to love it,” Shaline replied. 

“Excuse me, hello, it's just me, you know, the big brother you haven't seen in a month,” Eric said. 

“Eric!” Shaline cried. Once the hug fest was done the family decided to rent a car and drive to a café for lunch. Shaline said she knew a great one in the heart of Paris so she whispered something to Mom and directed her where to drive. Soon they arrived at the Eiffel Tower. Later Steffeny wrote in her diary, “I was so excited when we pulled up in front of the Eiffel Tower. It looked even more amazing from up close. The tower rose high above me and the rest of the city. Being there made me feel like I could do anything. Then about six strangers bumped into me as they passed. I was sucked back to reality and as I looked around I saw just how many people there were, hundreds and thousands. Oh boy, I am super duper shy. We had to park a few blocks away and getting there was like trying to get through the crowd at a firework show times a million. I was getting very anxious and then I looked up at the tower and calmed a little. We finally got through the crowds of tourists and entered into the Eiffel Tower. It was very loud inside but once we got to the table that Shaline reserved for us it was ok. The food was SO GOOD! I don't remember what it was called but something delightfully French. We got macaroons for dessert and if Paris had a taste that is what it would be. Dad was a little uneasy about going to the top of the tower but we convinced him. I couldn't enjoy it though! All the people everywhere and all the noise made me want to curl up in a ball somewhere and hide. The view was breathtaking. I took some good pictures. We stopped in the gift shop and then there was the long walk back to the car. They all wanted to see the lovelock bridge but I begged Mom to drop me off at the hotel first. It took a lot of whining, but eventually she gave in. So that's where I am now. Alone in our hotel. Waiting for my family to get back from the fun they are having without me. All because I am too shy. So much for a fun vacation. I would have been better off staying home, then I could at least go outside.” 

"What boring stuff have you been up to while we had fun?" Eric asked Steffeny.

“I wrote in my diary and then I worked on my story for Girl World," she told him.

“What's Girl World?" Eric wanted to know.

"Girl World is a company that makes dolls, books, and magazines, right now they are holding a contest for young girls like me. The winner gets their original story published in the magazine and the basic plot and character ideas for their next Star Girl doll and story." Steffany explained.

“And a star girl is?” Eric asked. 

"Oh right, every year they come out with a new star girl. It's basically the newest character whose story is set in the present time so on January 1st a new star girl will be released for 2039,” she explained. 

“Gacha, that is all very weird but I hope your story does well,” Eric said. 

“Thanks, I think,"Steffeny said. 

"Any time lil sis." 

"I'm starving! What do you guys say we stop at a café for dinner, I have a few up my sleeve. Or we could go to the park and have a picnic, oh! there is this patisary that you guys just have to see! It is sooo good! Or we could stop at le boulanger for croissants, what do you guys think?" Shaline was talking a mile a minute, she had been in the city longer than the rest of the family and took her role as tour guide very seriously. 

“Um, I think we should just eat here, I mean, café food must be so unhealthy. Mom, I know you really care about our diets and stuff," Steffeny said, proud of herself for coming up with such a good excuse. 

"Actually food laws here are much more strict than they are in the USA so we would really be better off going to a café than eating what we brought from home," Shaline told them. 

“Plus we’re on vacation, I don't mind breaking a few household rules just this once," Mom said. 

Dang it! “Well, um, doesn't Shaline have to rest up before the Olympics, isn't that why you aren't training this week?" Steffeny said, thinking fast.

“I'm fine, nothing more relaxing than dinner with my family." Shaline said, grabbing her purse.

“But, but um, well," Steffeny stammered.

“Steffeny what’s going on? You were so excited to come to Paris, don't you want to actually experience it?" Mom asked in concern. 

“No I don't, not anymore, but everything is fine!" Steffeny said fiercely, willing herself not to cry. 

“Everything is not fine sweetie, what's wrong?" Dad asked.

“If I tell you, you will think that I'm a greedy, selfish, ungrateful jerk, because I am," she said, letting just one tear slip down. 

“You are not any of those things and you know it, just tell us what's wrong, maybe we can help," Shaline said. 

"Fine," Steffeny said. 

“...Then I poured it all out. How scary and stressful it was to see so many people everywhere and how nervous I got. I told them how ungrateful I feel because every girl wants to go to Paris and I'm here but I just want to go home. I told them how disappointed I am. Paris not what I thought it would be. The more I talked about it, the more I just wanted to go home. When I finished telling all my problems Mom gave me a hug. 

"Oh sweetie, l know how it feels. When I about your age I went to New York city and I had the same problem,” she told me.

"What did you do about it?" I asked. 

“Nothing, I was miserable for the whole trip and when we got home I was disappointed that I had wasted such a cool adventure," Mom said. 

"If you really don't like the city, fine, but don't let shyness or fear stop you from having fun,” Dad added. 

"Oh, I love the city!" I exclaimed. 

"The Eiffel Tower is amazing, everything is beautiful, and the food is like a bite of heaven, but I can't enjoy that," I said sadly. 

"Why not? What are all those people doing to stop you? Nothing. Just ask yourself what you have to lose," Shaline encouraged.

“I get what you guys are saying but I still just don't know how to stop being so shy," I said in frustration. 

"I know,” Eric said. I was surprised he had spoken up, my brother tries to stay as far away from feelings as much as possible. “If every one of those people out there was either a friend or a relative, would you still be scared or shy?” he asked me. No, I would not. "Ok well just imagine that everyone here is a friend. It's a nice place, if you knew them I bet they would be your friends. Here you can be as crazy as you want, nobody will judge you,” Eric went on. Wow, well said.

"I guess I'll give it a try, is that patisserie still open?" I asked Shaline. 

"Yup, they close at nine,” she replied. So we had baked treats for dinner that were apparently healthier than a USA burger. When I looked around I noticed that every single person was laughing, smiling, and joking around with somebody else. All except one girl, a little younger than me. Before I knew what I was doing I walked to her and asked what was wrong. She muttered something in another language.We tried to communicate for a minute but it was hopeless. I pulled up a translation app on my phone and pieced together that she had been separated from her parents in the crowd. She showed me a picture of them. The girl and her mother looked similar with light brown skin and golden brown hair pulled back into braids. The girl's father had darker skin and hair with a mustache. All three of them had beautiful blue eyes. We asked a few people and then I spotted them near the far corner. I pointed them out and the girl ran to reunite with her parents. Then she turned and pointed at me. I waved at them and then went to find my family. They were all very surprised and proud of me. Honestly I was pretty proud of myself. I guess that was the end of my people phobia. I can't wait to find out what other adventures are headed my way now that I can enjoy them. Let's see!” 

Steffeny closed her diary with satisfaction. ‘Now that is a good story,’ she thought. That gave Steffeny an idea for her Girl World story. She smiled. ‘Dreams really do come true in Paris,’ she thought, Shaline’s dream of being in the Olympics, her dream of becoming an author, and so many more! That just gave Steffeny another idea! 

Sitting at a table in the Eiffel Tower café, Steffeny looked over the beautiful landscape below. Then she looked at her computer screen. Steffeny quickly scrolled through her story one last time to make sure everything was just right. She had written a brief summary of the story that she hoped would be on the back of the book. 

It read: “Annabella loves the Ukulele. She also loves singing. Annabella's twin sister Izzy is a poet and she loves to write songs for her twin. Annabella, unlike her sister, is dreaming big and trying to make it reality. When her parents surprise her with a trip to Paris for her birthday Annabella sees her chance. Izzy isn't so sure about all of this yet. So, two sisters, different talents, dreams, worries, and the trip of a lifetime. How do you think it will all shake down?”

Taking a deep breath, Steffeny closed her eyes and hit submit. ‘Yup, this is real,’ she told herself. 

Steffeny scrolled down to read entries by other girls her age. She wondered what had inspired their stories. “Tink, tink, tink," Steffeny checked her phone to see who had texted her. It was Shaline, she said, “We’re just leaving the grocery store, Mom wants to meet you in the parking lot in 5 so we can get to the Olympics early, can't wait!”

Steffeny quickly typed back, “Ok, can't wait to see you crush it!”

Not wrapping it, either.

It is about Christ, whose praise I lift! 

Though the tree with its lights 

Will be taken down

Once Christmas is over,

The best gift remains year-round. 

That gift is Jesus, 

The Son of God.

"Are you ok, Frank,” Mommy asked her husband.

"I'm fine, but the attack didn't go as planned. We underestimated those humans, they know how to deal with wolves. More than half our army was hurt, not badly, but we can't beat those humans, arrrooo!" he cried again in pain. 

"Don't worry so much now! You need to rest. Tracy will get you some soup while I take a look at that leg. We ladies and the men who aren't hurt will make a new plan tomorrow," Mommy says, making the reluctant wolf comfortable.

"Do I have to come with you to the meeting?" Tracy whined the next day.

"Yes sweetie, you know very well that there is nobody to watch while your Daddy rests,” Mommy said in a voice that is both gentle and stern.

"But I don't like hearing about it," the young wolf complained. 

"I know what you mean, but this is going to make things better. We will not let those humans take our land,” Mama encouraged, as she led her daughter to the clearing where wolves attend to all their pack's protection. 

"Awww," Aunt Talila said, "I don't know why any human would want to harm such a sad, adorable baby."

Tracy's response was the tiniest giggle. 

"You just gave me an idea!” Mommy said to her sister. “Maybe we could get humans to see the whole pack the same way you see Tracy," she explained. 

“Those eyes could melt anybody's heart," one uncle said. 

"Should we try it?" another asked. All of the animals froze as they heard footsteps behind them. 

“Well, I don’t see any other plan," an aunt said. Tracy looked up at the humans with a pitiful expression on her face. The rest of the wolves did the same.

"Awwl c'mon Russel look how cute they are!” a man named Jim said.

"Cute!? They're beasts!" Russel exclaimed. 

"But look how sad they are!" another man, Lucus, protested. 

"How would you like it if someone destroyed your home?" Robert asked fairly. 

"As construction supervisor, I order you to start cutting these trees this instant!" Russel commanded.

"And what if we don't?" Lucus challenged. 

"I'm taking the matter up with Lily!" Russel said. 

"And? Lily has a heart, she'll agree to have the mall built someplace else,” Tim pointed out. 

Russel grunted and groaned, stomping back and forth. “Fine! It's not my problem anyway because I quit!" he explodes.

"Fine by me," said Robert.

"Go tell Lily," Jim said. With a final exasperated noise, Russel stomped off.

"Let's go look for somewhere else to build, boys," Lucas said. The wolves watched the humans walk away, astonished. 

"I think it worked!" Aunt Talila said at last. 

"Tracy, you saved the day!” Mommy cried. 

"Let’s go tell Daddy he won't have to fight anymore!” Tracy said, beaming and not looking a bit sad or sorry but even cuter than ever.

"No, I don't think it's a bill, it's probably just a really fancy ad,” Mom answered. 

“It's addressed to our whole family," Abby said. 

“So can I open it?" Mason asked. 

"I wanne open it!" Maddy whined. 

"Let me open it!" four-year-old Benjamin said, just wanting to be in on the argument. 

"Mason asked first, he can open it, tell me what it is,” Mom said as she began to fold the laundry.

"Try not to rip it, I'll keep the paper for a craft if nobody else has a use for it," Abby said. She didn't have to ask him, he was cutting the gold paper as if it were real gold. A typed letter was pulled out of the envelope. Mason tried reading it but could hardly make out what it said. Abby took the letter and began to silently read. 

“What does it say?" all three of the little kids asked at the same time. "Uuuum, ‘I am very sad to inform you that Henry Rupert Billowerd has passed away. I am his son, your long lost cousin and/or second cousin, Rupert Billoward. Henry was quite wealthy and wished to give $1,000,000,000 to every family related to himn, closely or not so what you must do is…’ then there's a bunch of legal stuff I don't understand,” Abby said when she finished reading.

“Wait, what?” Maddy asked.

“It says that apparently our super rich long lost uncle died and we inherited a boat load of money! "Abby said, it didn't matter much to her because she figured Mom and Dad would just put it into savings in case they ever needed it. Benjamin didn't really care because he didn't really understand the concept of money. Mason, on the other hand, was crazy with excitement, he was already picturing himself sitting on a pile of lego sets as big as the house. He was also jumping up and down and flapping his hands like a clumsy bird that forgot how to fly. Maddy was dancing around the house and thinking of all the different toys she would get on every trip to Walmart. Of course she would forget about the toys the day after she got them but that was a minor detail.

"What are you doing?" Kennedy asked as she walked in with Graclie in one arm and her kindle in the opposite hand. Nobody could tell if she was annoyed or jokeing, at age fourteen, she was usually annoyed. 

"We won a bunch of money and I'm gonna get a tower of lego sets!” Mason shouted. 

“I didn't hear anything about lego sets but yeah Mom and Dad inherited $1,000,000,” Abby said. "Wow!" said Kennedy.

"Aaaa!" screamed nine-month-old Gracie. 

"Calm down! "Mom told everyone, “When Dad gets home from work I'll talk to him so we can decide what to do with the money.

"Do we get any of the money?" Mason arked at lunch the next day. Mom and Dad looked at each other in a weird way. “Wha?" 

“We were thinking about giving each of you a little bit of it to teach you about handling money,” Dad said. 

"Really? Yay! How much?" all the kids started talking at the same time. 

"Probably just $100 each, we'll save the rest." Mom said.

"One hundred dollars!!!" most of the kids shouted at once. 

“Can we go on vacation next Summer?" Abby asked. 

"Maybe," Mom said, this produced more cheers from all the kids. The following week the busy family set off to claim the money. They were shocked to see a set of fire trucks, lights on, their hoses going into the bank. Smoke was billowing out of the windows. Not knowing anything about the situation, Mom and Dad figured it would be a good idea to come back a different time. On his way home from work a few days later, Dad drove by and saw that nothing seemed wrong at the bank so he stopped in.

"May I ask about that fire last Saturday," Dad said. 

"Oh yes, that, we're not sure what started it but it began in the room where the bills are kept in the box for the Rater family," the worker said. 

"Oh no! I'm Mark Rater, I assume you have all of it digitally somewhere though, right?" Dad said.

“Yes we were able to recover your money earlier today, would you like to take some out sir?" the worker asked. 

"Yes please, if you wouldn't mind," Dad said. 

"How much?" the worker asked. 

"$500 please," Dad requested. 

“Right away sir," and then he left to retrieve the money. 

“I’m gonna get a lego set, and a stuffed animal, and a nerf gun, and..." 

"Mason, you don't have enough money for all of that, and don't you want to save some?" said Kennedy, annoyed.

“How do you know I won't have enough money?" Mason asked, now he was also annoyed. Kennedy made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a groan. Then the two were off bickering for the rest of the drive to Walmart, so a whole two minutes. As it turns out he did not have enough money and ended up spending all of it on one huge lego set. Maddy took a long time to choose, then she bragged about having $50 left over from the baby doll and clothes for a different doll that she got. Benjamin went nuts and wanted to buy the whole store, since he couldn’t do that, he finally got some Paw Patrol cars and a Spider Man car. At that point Mom and Dad are both thinking, ‘This was a terrible idea!’ Kennedy and Abby decided to save their money so finally the parade of people and toys left. 

When Mom and the kids returned to Walmart to get groceries, it was a mad house outside. As it turns out, the day after the Raters went shopping a burglar came in the night and stole all the money in the cash register as well as expensive electronics and... toys? Mom decided they would just shop at Aldi’s for a few weeks. After unloading the groceries from the car, Mom sent the three oldest kids to get the garbage cans from the end of the driveway. As Mason was picking up one of the cans, he felt something stuck to it. "Wait, what's this?" he asked, holding up an old-looking brownish yellow paper. 

“It's a note, here, lemme see that, it says 'How have you not figured this out by now? With that money you also inherited a curse. Bad things will keep happening wherever you put the money or spend it. The only way to reverse this curse is to bury all the money and mark where it is so nobody steps on it. If anyone steps where the money is buried, they will die!’" Kennedy read, her eyes getting wider and wider.

“Yikes, creepy!" Mason said running to the back with the garbage can. 

"It's like a Nancy Drew mystery! Let's try to solve it,” Abby said, almost forgetting how creepy it was. 

"Maybe after we tell Mom and Dad,” Kennedy said. "Mom, Mason found this on one of the garbage cans, it's really creepy," Kennedy said five minutes later. 

"Wow! that is creepy!" Mom said. She knew it wasn't a joke, at least not by her kids by the serious looks on their faces. 

"What should we do about it?" Abby asked, “Can we solve the mystery?” 

Mom thought for a minute. “Curses aren't real, so either someone who is superstitious left it to be nice, or some kid left it as a prank, either way, how did they know about the money or our address?" Mom asked, more to herself than the girls.

"Maybe it was a criminal, bad things did happen where we left the money. Maybe someone is spying on us and making those things happen!” Abby exclaimed. 

"I'll talk to Dad when he gets home from work and we'll try to figure out what to do," Mom said.

“So, about that note,” Kennedy said, jumping into Abby’s bed that night.

“So weird,” Abby said. “If it is a criminal, we need to catch him, let’s find suspects.” The girls thought for a moment.

“How do we do that?” Kennedy asked.

“Not a clue,” Abby said.

“Hmmmmm…” the girls thought some more. “Why would anybody want to do that?” Kennedy asked.

“Good question, maybe we should start with that,” Abby said, grabbing a notebook. She flipped to an empty page and wrote "Motives" in bold letters at the top with a green pan. After about a half hour they hadn't come up with anything and were very off subject talking about nail polish. "Night guys," Meson said, as he was walking past their bedroom.

“Night," Kennedy said, rolling her eyes.

"Wait, Mason, can you help us for a sec?" Abby asked,ignoring Kennady's eye roll.

"Sure, since Maddy won't let me sleep anyway," he said angrily "Great, so you know that note you found on the gachage can, we're trying to figure out who left it and I think I might have an idea." Abby said. 

"Thanos?" Masan suggested, this produced an eye roll from both girls followed by,”Oh, ha.Ha.” and, “Really? Just stop it." 

"Seriously guys, we should set a trap to catch the criminal," Abby said.

“We should use rabbit traps like in ‘Peter Rabbit,’” Mason suggested.

“That would work, if we had any of those,” Kennedy said, dripping with sarcasm. 

"Or we could just call the super hero squad," Maren went on. 

"You're hilarious," Kennedy said flatly. Because of all the bickering it took a long time but the kids eventually came up with a plan. “So this Friday we ask if we can sleep in the loft, Maddy can come but don't tell Benjamin about it. Once he falls asleep Maddy and Mason come up, Abby and I will already be up there setting up. How about we don't tell Maddy until we're about to go up. She's sure to spoil it but we can trust you, right Mason? Great. Once we're all set to 'sleep' we’ll all go out and bury the money loud enough for the criminal to hear but not Mom and Dad. Then Mason and I will leave and Abby and Maddy will hide. If they see anything suspicious they'll call us on the walkie talkies, but we can’t respond because then he will hear it. They can take Abby's camera to video the whole time. Once he leaves they follow him carefully, when we get there, we search the scene for clues. If they don't see anything suspicious, they can walkie us so we can switch places, got it?” Kennedy explained with Abby and Mason interjecting with, “Yup!” “Great!” and, “Ok!” every here and there. Plans were made with Mom and Dad concerning sleeping in the loft. Friday night everything was set. 

“Wait, duh we don't have to actually bury the money, we can bury fake money,"Abby said. So Maddy's pretend money was put in a jar and taken up to the loft. "Ok, we have blankets, flashlights, shovel, pillows, sleeping bags, the walkies, string, I think we're all set, oh, my camera! I almost forgot, be right back," Abby said. Maddy and Mason were awakened and the foursome crept up to the loft. Once Kennedy explained the plan to Maddy they started off into the woods. Abby and Maddy had borrowed some of Kennedy and Mason's black and camo clothes. ‘Scoop! Toss! Scoop! Toss! Scoop! Toss!’ Finally a decently sized hole was dug and the "money" was placed in it. Kennedy thoroughly filled the hole while the others wrapped bright yellow string between some of the surrounding trees. Kennedy and Mason departed with one of the walkie talkies. Maddy and Abby were left alone sitting on the roots of the biggest tree in the woods. "This is no way to hide!" Abby whisper yelled, so they sprawled on their stomachs so only their heads could be seen from the buried money. Abby was worried which way the criminal would come from, though. It got later and later and Maddy started to fall asleep. Abby was also getting tired. Abby sent two beeps on the walkie talkie, their signal for a shift change. Soon Mason and Kennedy arrived, for once too nervous and excited to argue. Abby and Maddy left. “Rustle, rustle, clomp, clomp." 

Mason checked his watch, "1:07! Yikes!" he cried. 

"Shhhh! We have to be quiet!” 

“Rustle, rustle, clomp, clomp, rustle, rustle, clomp, clomp.” 

"Shouldn't they be gone by now?" It was nearing 1:30. 

“Rustle, rustle, clomp, clomp, rustle, rustle, clomp, clomp.” The noise was getting louder, “Rustle, rustle, clomp, clomp!”

“Mason, the camera!”

“Rustle, rustle, clomp, clomp.” Kennedy sent one beep on the walkie talkie.

“That means they see him! Maddy! Wake up! We need to go right now!” Abby commanded frantically. Maddy drowsily opened her eyes. As soon as she saw where she was and her sister climbing down the ladder, she was fully alert.

“Rustle, rustle, clomp, clomp, rustle, rustle, clomp, clomp!” 

"Hurry! we need to get to the other side of the tree so he doesn't see us!” Kennedy whispered. “Rustle, rustle, clomp, clomp.” By now the noise was coming from two directions, their house and the opposite direction. 

“I hope that's Abby and Maddy,” Mason said. 

"Shhhhh!" 

“Rustle, rustle, clomp, clomp, thump!” The footsteps stopped and something heavy nearly landed on Mason's head. Kennedy instinctively put her hand over Mason's mouth to keep his yelp down. 

"Shovels, everything's going perfectly," Kennedy's voice was so low Mason could barely hear her but his tongue seemed to have frozen so he stayed silent.

"Looks like them good for nothin' kids listened to our lil tip," a man who looked little more than a boy drawled. Kennedy clenched her fists. “Get to work, Rudy! I didn't hire you as a comrade!” a rudely dignified voice snapped.

“Yees boss,” Rudy said miserably. Just then a softer rustling sounded directly behind Kennedy and Mason. Noiselessly, Abby handed two papers and a pen to Kennedy. One paper read, "Sorry we took so long, what's going on?" It was a good thing Kennedy's eyes adjusted to the dark a long time ago. 

“That teenager's name is Rudy. It sounds like he works for that other man, who seems to be too stingy for money-digging. They've only been here about two minutes," Kennedy scribbled on the other paper. “Click!” That unfortunately satisfying clicky pen was what gave them away. 

"Um, boss, deed ya’ll hear dat?” Rudy asked.

“I certainly did," the other man said. He was walking towards the kids. Closer, closer. 

"Mason, give me the camera. I have a plan,” Kennedy whispered. Closer, closer, closer, flash! “Run!" Kennedy yelled, and run they did, as fast as their legs could carry them. 

"Geed em’!” Rudy cried.

“Not so fast, they’re just worthless children,” the boss said.

“Wait!” Maddy called. She was far behind the rest of her siblings. 

“Maddy, this isn't a game, listen to me, we are running for our lives, hurry up, I'll hold your hand," Abby said as she rushed back to her sister. They didn't stop running until they sat gasping for breath at the foot of their parents' bed.

“What the heck is going on?" Dad asked groggily. 

"Is everything ok?" Mom asked. So the story was told. Let’s just say that Mom and Dad were not pleased, especially considering it was past 3:00 AM and they had been sound asleep. The fear combined with the lecture set all four of them crying. The noise woke Benjamin up and he cried out of confusion and because his brother and sisters’ vacant beds scared him. Gracie also wake up and was not pleased. So most of the Rater family was crying loudly at 3:00AM. Mom got to work making Gracie a bottle and hugging Benjamin to stop his crying. Dad had to step outside for a moment to calm his temper. Once he came back in he calmly explained to his 4 oldest kids why what they did was wrong. 

"I'm proud of you though, that stakeout was a brave thing to do,” Dad said. 

"Thanks,” Mason said.

“Yeah, and it was scary," Maddy agreed. The older girls just hugged their Dad. The other kids joined in and almost squashed him. 

"We'll call the police and let them deal with those guys, ok, they won't get away with scaring our kids," Dad said. 

"The pictures!” Mason cried. 

"You're right," Abby said, picking up the camera that had fallen on the floor. "Blurry, blurry, only shows the ground, this one might be good, it shows them and in the background I can see the hole and the shovels. Oooo, here’s a shot of their faces!" Abby cried triumphantly. 

“Let me see that. Wow, great job guys," Dad said. 

"Ha! that guy even looks evil!" Masen laughed. 

"Haha, he's like your classic cartoon bad guy, " Abby laughed. 

“That is what he looks like!" Dad laughed. 

"Oh, he does, "Mom laughed. Soon the whole family was laughing so hard they could barely breathe. The following day prints were made of the photos and they were delivered to the police along with the note. Once the whole story was explained to the police, they said they would start work on it right away as they were already on the robbery and the fire.

A week later Mom got a call saying the police found the men. "We just need kids to confirm one and we'll send him off to jail, the other was already convicted of several robberies,” the man on the phone said. 

"Ok," Mam said, “Be there around 4:30." The kids confirmed both the suspects. It was found that Rudy Arnold had been at Harborcreek Youth Services. The other man, Miles Terry, had hired Rudy to do his dirty work by falsely promising to give him a share of the money. Mr. Jerry had been Henry Billoward’s best friend since childhood and he was angry that these relatives that Henry hadn't even known got more money than he did. Being a vengeful man with a bad temper, he had kept tabs on the family and their money and caused a disaster wherever the money went. His next step would have been to do something to their home if the note didn't work.

To celebrate they went to Menchie's for ice cream. "Mason! Save some m&ms for other people! Ug! You are so annoying!" Yup, criminals caught, things were back to normal for the Rater family.

Megan suddenly sat up and looked around. She was sitting on the ground next to a stack of hay bales that was taller than she is. As Megan took in her surroundings she thought it looked like something out of her favorite book, Little House on the Prairie. Suddenly Megan saw a girl with brown braids come flying out of a nearby log cabin. A taller girl with blonde curls followed at a much more ladylike pace. Her blue dress was the exact same shade as the midsummer sky, which was not tainted by city smoke and smog. Before Megan could gather her wits the blond girl spotted her. "Laura look! There is a girl by our hay pile, she looks sad and confused. Let's see what's wrong!” 

Laura rolled her eyes. "But Pa said I could help him chop wood if I finished my chores on time. She is probably just taking a walk from one of the other homesteads," she said. 

“You get the water then, I want to meet this girl," the blonde girl said. So Laura walked off and the blonde girl walked over to Megan. “Hello, my name is Mary, are you alright?” she asked. 

“Everything is wrong!" Megan cried, “Of course I'm not alright!"

Mary was startled but didn't show it. "Tell me what happened," she said kindly. 

"Do you promise not to tell anybody?" Megan asked.

"Cross my heart." Mary said. Something made Megan pour out her entire story to Mary. Mary was a good listener and she helped Megan to get her thoughts straight. 

“Wait a minute, you're Mary and your sister is Laura... Do you by chance have a sister named Carrie?" Megan asked in an excited voice. 

“Ye-e-esss,” Mary said slowly, wondering how Megan knew this. 

“Is your last name Ingalls?" Megan asked, her voice getting high with excitement.

"Ye-e-e-essss," Mary said nervously. 

“Oh my gosh you are my favorite character in my favorite book series and your sister Laura is my favorite author!" Megan exclaimed. 

"What are you talking, about!?" Mary asked, thinking Megan was insane. So Megan told Mary about the famous Series. "How do I know you're not making this up?" Mary asked.

“Um." Megan had read the books 100 times each, there had to be some proof that they were real. “Your Ma's name is Caroline Quinner and before she married your Pa she was a school teacher. That is what you want to be too when you grow up," Megan said.

Mary just stared at her and then slowly nodded. "Ok, I believe you," she said.

"Good because I need to tell you that γου are going to…” 

Mary interrupted Megan before she could finish. "Please don't tell me!" Mary pleaded, "I want to accept troubles and learn from them as they come the way God designed it instead of trying to prevent what he makes happen." 

"So you're saying we should just let bad things happen when we could stop them?” Megan asked. 

"Sometimes," Mary said, “If God wants something to happen He will make it happen even if we try to stop it, and even if it seems bad at the time I know that whatever happens to me, it will work out for good because I love Him.” Megan was shocked at how much trust Mary had in God. She seemed very happy and content. 

“Does that mean being parentless and having my best friend dump me can be a good thing?” Megan finally asked. 

Mary nodded. “That Ellen girl does not seem like a very good friend, since you're already here and don't seem to have a way to get home, could I be your new best friend?" she asked. 

In response Megan gave Mary a big hug. "But where do I stay, your cabin is already crowded, maybe I could stay in the barn?" Megan asked. 

"I have a better idea," said Laura who had been eavesdropping for a good 10 minutes. 

"Laura Ingalls!" Mary scolded.

"Sorry but listen, I saw an Indian man and woman walk  by our cabin early this morning. In their eyes was the type of sadness that doesn't fade even after the many years have passed. The woman held an empty baby carrier. I think their child died, maybe you could comfort them by staying with them and letting them care for you,” Laura said. 

"Maybe that is why God caused you to come here,” Mary said. 

"Alright,” Megan said, "Let's go but Laura, promise not to put any of this in your books.” Laura promised and they set out for the Indian camp.

“You said Ally is our top suspect,'' Ally said. 

"Oh,” Andy said, “that wasn't us it was the TV.” That was embarrassing. 

“It’s ok,” Kathrin said, “Wanna watch the grand finale of Undercover with us?"

try to find her.

Then she went to the mall. She checked all Ariona's favorite stores but didn't find her. It was one o'clock and Marieta decided to go to the food court for lunch. When she was just sitting down to eat Marieta heard a yell.

“Hey, give that back!" Marieta stood and saw a dark haired girl running out of the jewelry store with the clerk chasing her. Marieta hid behind a plant to get a better look while they ran by. She jumped out suddenly. "Ariona!" she gasped. 

"Mary,” Ariona said.

In the end Ariona explained that she stole a necklace because she didn't have enough money to buy her mom a birthday present. They hardly had enough money to pay for their house. Marietta couldn't stay mad even though stealing was wrong. She hugged her and gave her all her allowance. Ariona never stole ever again.

"We leave next week so you should get to packing," Grace said.

"Great," Emily said. The tone in her voice said she did not think it was too great. 

"Party pooper,” Rachle mocked. 

“See you in the woods," Grace called as she left without her shoes. 

"Um, Grace," Emily reminded her. 

"Oh, right," Grace put her shoes on and left.

1 Week Later

“Emily was supposed to be here 2 hours ago, where could she be?" Grace asked. 

"You know her,” Rachle said, "She probably couldn't decide which shoes to bring.” Just then the doorbell rang and Emily hobbled in lugging 7 suitcases.

"Oo!" what's in there?" Grace asked, opening one and rummaging through the fancy clothes. 

"Why do you need so many clothes?" Rachel asked. 

“Never know when you slobs might stain it," Emily said. 

“Never,” Grace said, setting down a pair of now stained capris. 

“What's in the rest of the suitcases?" Rachle wanted to know.

"That one has more clothes, the rest have parts of my bed, hair products, makeup, and electronics,” Emily told them. 

“Wow!” Grace said. 

"A bed? for camping?" Rachle was bewildered.

“What am I supposed to sleep on? The ground?" Emily asked. Grace rolled her eyes. 

"Ok let's go," Rachle said, walking out the door. 

5 hours later

"Rachle, do you know where we are going?" Grace asked. 

"Absolutely, the campsite,” Rachle said. 

“She has no idea how to get there," Grace whispered to Emily.

“Tell me I don't have to stress about this, I can not get a pimple,” Emily said. 

"Oh forget about your face,” Rachle said. "We’re lost."

10 minutes later

"Rachle, did it ever occur to you that wandering around here is just getting us more lost?” Grace asked. 

"We've passed that same tree at least 6 times," Emily said boredly. 

“There are other trees," Rachle said, "But you're probably right, let's set up camp here." Rachle and Grace set up the tent. 

5 minutes later

"That's it?" Emily asked, looking at the small tent that was just big enough for three sleeping bags. "How will my bed fit in there?" she asked. 

"It won't," Rachle said. 

"I guess I'll just have to sleep outside,” Emily said, looking at the sky to see if it would rain. 

“Ooo!” Grace got in the big fluffy bed. 

"Aaa! get out of my bed!” Emily screamed. 

Grace got out and revealed that she had left a big dirty smudge on the neat white sheets. 

"Never mind you can have it." Grace shrugged and flopped down. Emily growled. Rachle laughed.

“Well now your choices are cold ground or Grace's sleeping bag.” Emily would rather sleep on a bed of nails than in Grace's sleeping bag.

“Cold hard ground it is,” she said.

9 hours later 

Grace’s hand fell to the ground and she woke up with a start. The ground was was covered

in snow. The bed was covered in snow, but the only cold parts of Grace's body were her face and her hand. The blankets were very thick. She wanted to get out of bed and surprise Rachle and Emily with a pre-breakfast snowball fight but when Grace tried to push the covers away they wouldn't move. They were tucked in too tight and the top two layers were frozen solid. You would think that Grace could just fall back asleep but she was on the basketball team and had to get up at 5:30am every morning. Thankfully, Rachle was also an early bird, getting up at 6:30am to watch the sunrise. "How did YOU wake up so early?" Rachle asked, coming from behind the tent. 

“I will have you know that I get up at 5:30 every single morning, basketball or not," Grace sounded offended. 

“It's 7:00, why are you still in bed?" Rachle asked. "This bed is really comfy so I slept late... and I'm a little stuck," Grace said. Rachle rolled her eyes and tried to untuck the covers. They were too frozen to untuck. 

“How did it get like this anyway?" Rachle asked, “You never tuck your covers in." That was the first time Grace ever thought of how it happened. 

"I don't know,” she said. Rachle tried again to untuck the covers but they would not come. 

“I can't get you out," she said. 

Grace screamed, "I have to go to the bathroom and it's so hot under here that I feel like I sweated off at least 6 pounds.” Emily slowly stepped out of the tent, groggily rubbing her eyes. 

"What's all that noise? I'm trying to sleep,” she asked. 

"Long story," Rachle said. 

"Somehow my sheets and blankets got tucked in and frozen down,” Grace told her. 

"I can't get her out,” Rachle added. 

"Oh, I, uh, wonder how that happened,” Emily said as she backed into the tent. 

"What do you know?" Rachle asked Emily, who was acting awfully suspicious. 

"I tucked the sheets in during the night because I was mad at her for stealing my bed,” Emily burst. 

“Seriously?" Grace said. 

"Well I didn't know it would snow!" Emily yelled. 

"Well you knew I hate my covers tucked in!” Grace shot back. 

“I’ve told you a thousand times not to touch my stuff!" Emily screamed. Rachle was, as usual, the peacemaker. 

"Calm down, Grace shouldn't have stolen the bed and Emily shouldn't have tucked her in. Can you get over it?” Rachle said.

"Alright, alright, alright," Grace said. 

“Fine,” said Emily. 

"So any ideas on how to get me out?" Grace asked. Rachle looked around the campsite. 

“I guess we could start a fire and use it to melt the ice,” she said. 

"I'm already sweating to death now, do you want me to burn to death?” Grace would not have it.

"Or we could use my heating pad and not kill our friend,” Emily said. 

"You have a heating pad?" Rachle asked. 

"I happen to have very sensitive feet," Emily stated. 

"Who cares!" Grace yelled.

"Well we need electricity, "Rachle pointed out. Emily thought about that. “If we had a battery that might work." 

Grace had a solution, "I have a battery powered video game,” she said. "It might work if we could wire it right."

Rachle said that she knew a little wiring from Save the Earth Camp. So they wired it up and Grace was free and she learned not to touch Emily's stuff. Emily learned to control her vengeance and Rachel learned that her best friends were total wackadoos. They managed to enjoy the rest of their trip and stayed best friends forever and ever.

After dinner Tiffany got right to work on her robot. But it did not go well. Tiffany may for may not have kinda sort of maybe just a little bit caught the garage on fire. "Mom!” she yelled. Once the fire was out Tiffany was pretty upset about her science project.

The next day when Tiffany got home she stared at her robot. She should have waited to build her robot at school, but that would give her only two days instead of seven. Tiffany decided to just push a button and see what happened. She pushed it and the room started spinning. When the room finally stopped spinning, Tiffany did not know where she was. She looked around, she was sitting on dry grass, there were woods behind her, and teepees in front of her and a girl on a horse coming right towards her. Tiffany screamed and jumped out of the way. The girl stopped and got off of the horse. She had black hair in two long braids, she had dark skin and a brown dress, she had a purple belt, purple hair ties, and a purple flower necklace. She had moccasins. The girl said something, then seeing Tiffany's blank stare she said in sign language "My name is Calfury." 

Tiffany said, “My name is Tiffany" while doing it in sign language. (Any time they say something they always do it in sign language). “Where am I?'' Calfury told her that she was in a Siox tribe. “How do I get back to New York?" Tiffany asked.

“What is New York?” Calfury asked. Tiffany stared at her. Who didn't know what New York was? "I'm not sure, that is... never mind," Tiffany stammered. 

Calfury responded, “I know not of these strange things that you speak of, but I do know that you must stay here and rest until you can think straight.” Calfury began to lead Tiffany to the village of tents, Tiffany followed obediently, she was tired.

Tiffany woke up, it was dark but there was a campfire outside. She looked around. She was in one of the tents on a bed which she now saw was stuffed with straw. She looked down and saw that she was wearing a dress a lot like Calfury’s except less purple. The whole thing looked Native American. Tiffany gasped. She remembered her report on Native Americans, she remembered programming her robot before it caught on fire, had she time traveled or had she just teleported? ‘Native Americans do still exist today,’ she thought. Only one way to find out. Tiffany went outside and found Calfury, a girl a few years older than Tiffany, a man, and a woman. “Tiffany,” Calfury said, “This is my sister Amitola and my mama and papa.

"Hello," Tiffany said, “Do you know what day it is?" 

Calfury looked confused, “Yes why?" 

"I was Just wondering,” Tiffany said. 

“It's January 5th, 1522," Calfury said. Tiffany stared at her. 1522! Calfury was over 500 years old! Tiffany took a deep breath. ‘Wait a minute, how will I get home?’ Tiffany wondered. "What's wrong?" Calfury asked. 

“I don't know how to get home,” Tiffany said she ran back to where she was when she met Calfury. That's it, where she met Calfury! Maybe she could find something she dropped from home and use it to make something to get back.

Tiffany searched the grass but she didn't find anything. She sighed, why had she thought that would work? Tiffany looked down and saw the bracelet her 9-year-old sister Makayla made her for her 12th birthday. Tiffany sighed again, she really missed her sister and not just her, she also missed her 14-year-old sister, Ariona, and her 16-year-old brother, Carter. She studied the bracelet. The bracelet, that's it! Tiffany ran back to Calfury's camp and bonked into her halfway there. “I'm sorry, are you ok?” Tiffany said in a hurry. 

"I'm ok, are you?” Calfury said. 

"I'm fine,” Tiffany said, rubbing her head. 

“You know I was not talking about your head, Tiffany,” Calfury said. “I meant about getting home, back to your people." 

"I think I know how to get home but, could I stay with you for a few more days?" Tiffany said.

Calfury nodded, "Of course," she said, "Stay as long as you like." The next day Calfury showed Tiffany around the village. There was a lady who made dresses with fancy metal stuff. There was a man who made horse saddles and lots of other businesses. Tiffany saw Calfury pay for something with small beads. She used the beads on her necklace to buy two dresses, one she liked and one she didn't like.

That night when everyone else was asleep, Tiffany got out the dress she didn't like and got all the metal off. Then she melded it into a device to get home. She put the bracelet on top. She pressed the button and held her breath and then she was home. Tiffany looked at the robot, in a way it had done what she wanted it to do. She could have learned a lot about Native Americans but she was too busy trying to get home. Then Tiffany had an idea, she went back to 1522 and spent the whole week with Calfury. When she got home she brought the dress she bought and even had her necklace back. Calfury taught her so much about Native Americans that Tiffany got an A+++ on her report! And no time even passed at home while Tiffany was in 1522.