Kick in the Head

by Mack Muldofsky
I have always had a bittersweet relationship with sports. Physically, I’m slow, I’m nearsighted, and I have no stamina. But sports is about more than the body. It is also about the mind. My mind was also bad at sports.

Skipping Stones

by Ana Henry
I promised my father
(when I was twelve, on
the cusp of something
unknown to both of us)
that I would learn how.

Where Are You Going to Get a Guitar?

by Sofia Johnson

Ralph Hans stepped onto the subway car, edging sideways so his guitar wouldn’t bump into any hissy evening commuters or rustle the pages of their newspapers. A woman in a long skirt and a “Save the Earth” tank top exhaled sharply, then intensified her blank stare at her reflection in the window.

Pieces

by Isabella Giovannini

The hallway has rough, white walls and big windows made of little glass squares. The glass makes the green trees outside look a little bit like how I saw when I tasted Dad’s drink.
Why didn’t Dad come with me? I don’t like this tan nurse in tan clothes.

Good Thing Going

by Drew Arnum

It’s amazing what I would do for Stephen Sondheim. It all started on the ferry at midday on the Friday of Labor Day weekend. Hurricane Earl was headed our way, but my dad and I simply had to go and see Merrily We Roll Along on Fire Island.

Catching Minnows

by Gillian Page

I’m walking.  The ground beneath me is thin blue glass, clear enough that I can see the water below me and the fish that dive and curl beneath it.  They move like water, or the light from the muted sun on the waves.  A minnow swims through the air beside me.  I cannot see its face.

Bears

by Mary Salmonsen

I encountered the bear for the first time when I was eleven years old. It was my fifth day of middle school, I remember, and I had been standing at the traffic crossing for nearly a minute when I heard his bear’s grunt beside me.

The White of Cooled Embers

by Rebecca Epstein-Boley

There was always something strange about those Borisewicz girls. First of all, they were just too smart. Second, they got away with too much. But nobody had any reason to expect what happened on November 17, 1896.

Android Winter

by Nathan Ammons

Its eyes opened, the color of stone whose luster reflected the cold, eggshell cement of the ceiling. Its arms remained locked at its side, pale and gaunt as the rickety circuits that pervaded the synthetic latex skin-flap shot electrical sparks from cold titanium joint to cold titanium joint.

Senior Portfolio

by Preston Cooper
The house cracked and groaned through the night. Windows shattered, beams broke, the ceiling loosed its plaster. The front door rattled with ear-splitting violence. The wind whistled all night long with the rain pounding on the roof. And all the while the horrible crashing of thunder split through the night.

In the Presence of Absence

by Jennifer Davis

There were only two things I had / Ever loved on this earth: / One, the eyes of the salty ocean, / Teeming with waves of tears. / And the other was you.

Memoir In Full Color

by Maria Brescia-Weiler

I am her dog Lacy. Blue black fur, soft dark eyes, the color of the blue in the center of a fire. Her mother’s parents had pushed and pushed for them to get a dog, but the father wouldn’t even think of it . . .