miles and the b-b gun

Once there was a little boy named Myles goehm. Myles was a normal boy with a mom, a dad & 3 sisters. This little boy had a good father, with an old truck. Not only was Myles a boy but he had a bee-bee gun. You can see where this is going.

One warm California day Myles went out side looking for squirrels & birds to shoot. Click, click, click Myles pumped his bee-bee gun so it would be full of pressure. As Myles walked by his dad’s old truck the bee-bee gun went off, BANG!!!!! Myles ran over to the spot where the bee-bee hit. There right in the middle of the fender was a bee-bee hole.

“Uh-oh” thought Myles “dad’s going to be mad at me”

So Myles ran inside & waited for his dad to come home. After a few hours, Myles dad came home. Myles ran outside to meet his doom.

“Son, what’s this?” Myles dad said as calmly as he could.

In the previous month Myles dads truck had been shot before, so myles thought he would use that for cover.

“Someone shot your truck dad” Myles grinned.

“Who shot my truck son” Myles dad asked

“I don’t know dad” Myles replied.

“Are you sure, because it looks like a bee-bee” his father countered.

Myles could hear his heart beating faster, but he had to come up with something.

“Huh, really” Myles smiled.

Myles dad knew what he did & he got off pretty easy, he even got to keep his bee-bee gun. Myles received no punishment, at first he wondered why but he decided not to push his luck. However from then on Myles was more careful where he pointed his gun.

this is a short children's story that i gave my dad for fathers day last year.

Belief - a villanelle

I really want to shake hands with the guy who invented these, he was evil.


I find this hard to believe
in the last we see of today
to the last of the paths we leave

for all the help we'd receive
for all these problems in play
I find this hard to believe

because the one who came to deceive
in his own, heart-broken way,
to the last of the paths we leave

... and when we find we can breathe
brought to the white that surrounds the gray
I find this hard to believe

the truth that we thought we'd cleave
became false when we thought to pray
to the last of the paths we leave

but all that we thought to perceive
is what we'd find would stay-
but I find this hard to believe
on the last of the paths we leave


I'll get another poem up here soon, too, since we're not meeting 'til next week.

Plain

Plain
written by: some guy in the yogurt commercial
submitted by Brooke Boehm

Plain was the same as it ever was the same.

Plainly plain…

Samely same…

But then…someone lit the flame.

Plain rode away on a lion’s mane.

Where plain met fruits with strangely names.

Such wonderful things they did contain.

A shot of life to a hungry vein.

The captive beast who broke the chain.

And there upon that fruited plane,

is where plain became what plain became.

So much more than plain.

Plain will never be the same.

Winter Moon Chronicles ~1

This is my baby. My book I have been conceiving, struggling, bending my mind over, editing, but no where close to finishing for hmm, 4, 5 years. Brandon read the old draft, but this is a newer version, so... I'd like to get back to work ^^'

The Winter Moon Chronicles

By Mary Ann Kirkpatrick

Inspired by Amy Holt

Have you ever wished that your life could be at least the slightest bit different? I have. I love my life, my friends and family. I do really well at school and church. But, I used to sometimes think that my life was extremely repetitive. It also seemed awfully similar to everybody else’s. I wished it could be different, just a little, so it would stand out from everything else. I wished it would be like the fantasy books I love to read, like Harry Potter or the Chronicles of Narnia. But like everybody else in the world, I thought magic only existed in the books and movies. Oh, how wrong I was. But I'm getting ahead of the story. Let me tell you about myself.

My name is Marina Kirk, I'm 17 years old and I live in Lincoln City, Oregon. I'm the youngest of four children. I have wild, curly, red hair the color of a copper penny and grey-blue eyes. I have five best friends- Amber, Andrea, Lina, Shania, and Corrine. My friends would play a big part in the adventure I would go through to be here where I am today.

Our story begins the last day of autumn. I woke up to an early, slightly misty morning. But that wasn't unusual weather for the Oregon Coast. I got out of bed, went to the window and opened the curtains. I stood there for a few moments watching the waves slowly lap up onto the beach while the mist hovered delicately over the surface of the water. I turned to face my closet and picked out an outfit of a soft, white top, a black, military-style jacket, a dark red scarf, and a pair of dark jeans. I headed down the stairs after stopping in the bathroom to do my hair- smooth and feathered around my face.

“Good morning sweet pea!” My mom greeted me.

“Morning,” I said groggily. “What’s for breakfast?”

“Just a bowl of cereal.” Mom said pouring milk into her own bowl.

“Great.” I said slightly sarcastic. I got up and went to the cupboard pulling out the box of Rice Crispies.

“Did you sleep well?” My mom asked.

“Yeah, but I had this weird dream that I woke up from at about 2:00 this morning.”

“What was the dream about?” she inquired.

“Well, I was on the beach just walking along, it was all foggy, and then I saw this bright light out a little bit toward the sea.” As I was explaining it to her, my dad and my brothers, Adam and Caleb, walked in one at a time. But they weren't listening, only focusing on breakfast, just like men.

“I turned to look at it and the light swirled around in mid-air. As I walked out to reach it, the waves separated for me. When I reached it, the white light turned this vivid blue. I reached out to touch it, and I woke up.” I explained.

“Wow.” she said.

“Yeah, I know, it just makes me wonder what it means.”

“Hmmm, well I don't know. But what I do know is if you don't hurry, you're going to miss the bus.”

“Right, okay.” I got up and rinsed my bowl out, put it in the dish washer and hurried to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

When I came back, Mom had placed my backpack on the counter stool. I picked it up, flung it over my shoulder and grabbed my flute where I left it on the counter.

“Love you Mom.” I told her.

“Love you too, have a good day!”

I rushed out the door and ran down to the bus stop. There I met Lina and Andrea. “Hey!” I greeted them.

“Hey!” They echoed in unison.

“Are you ready for the History test?” Lina asked me. She flipped her long ash-blond hair over her shoulder and looked worriedly at me from her clever blue eyes.

“Yeah and no,” I said hesitantly, “I pretty much know it all already so I just read it over and repeated it.”

“I'm so worried, I got like five wrong when I was quizzing with my sister, but I kept working on it and I think I'm ready, but I'm not sure.”

Lina most of the time gets awesome grades but she always stresses over them beforehand. I think she has a mild case of obsessive compulsive disorder.

“Well I spent about an hour and a half studying last night and I feel pretty confident.” Andrea said. She had her dark brown hair with auburn highlights in loose curls.

At that moment the bus pulled up. We clambered on and Lina started stressing again.

“If you're that worried about it, give me your notes, I'll quiz you.” I told her.

She reached in her backpack and drew out her purple history notebook. I took it from her and opened it to the Post-it note.

“Okay, in what year did Napoleon Bonaparte declare the French Revolutionary War?”

Andrea and I took turns asking Lina questions for the remainder of the bus ride. Finally we reached the red brick building that was Taft High School, home of the Tigers. When we got inside, we walked to our lockers together while Lina and Andrea were laughing. But, I was thinking about the dream I had last night again. It was like I was off in my own little world; I didn't hear a single thing they were talking about and Andrea had to say my name three times before I looked at her.

“Marina? What about you? Don’t you think Josh is the biggest jerk?” she asked me. Josh is the football jock in our homeroom that is always butting in and disrupting class with rude comments.

“Oh, yeah he is so annoying.” I said.

“Marina, are you okay? You were spacing off again.” Lina asked me.

“Oh, yeah, it's just,” I lowered my voice to a whisper, “I was thinking about this dream I had last night.” I told them about the dream and they stared at me in awe.

“It sounds just like a fantasy book!” Andrea exclaimed.

“Yeah, that's so cool!” Lina added.

“It's weirder than fantasy, to me at least.” I told them.

“Okay, enough with the fantasy comparison, let's analyze it.” Andrea said. Andrea is the psychologist of our group of friends.

“Why?” Lina asked her.

“Well, most dreams mean something, so if we analyze it we can come up with a possible meaning.” Andrea explained.

“Do you know how to analyze dreams?” I asked her.

“Um...” She hesitated, “No, but I'll go check the library for a book about dream analyzing.” She resolved. If Andrea doesn't know the answer to something, she'll find it at the library.

When she finished saying this we arrived at our homeroom, Mrs. Carter.

“Well, well, if it isn't the book club!” came a voice from behind us. We turned to see who it was, and, not to our surprise, it was Josh.

“Shut up, Josh.” I said.

“Hey, hey, I'm just making a comment.” Josh said moving past us running his hand through his light brown hair. His dark eyes had their usual sly glint.

“Well, you know what they say, better seen than heard.” I retorted venomously. Andrea and Lina giggled nervously.

“Ouch, that hurts, Marina.” he said, faking remorse.

“Josh, just for once, can you just leave us alone?” I asked.

He hesitated before answering, as though he wanted to say something, but instead retorted, “How could I leave such pretty girls alone without anyone to talk to except each other and their books?”

“Maybe by paying attention to any of the swooning girls who worship the ground you walk on?” This was true, even though he was a jerk; he was a cute jerk who manipulated all the cheerleaders and majorettes.

“Speaking of pretty girls,” he said as though he hadn't heard a word I had just said, “You know there's a bonfire tonight on the beach, and I was wondering if you would care to accompany me?”

I broke into spasms of laughter, unable to even breathe. “Seriously, who dared you to do this?” I asked between gasps.

“Nobody, I just thought you might want to go and spend some time with the half-back of the football team.” he said innocently, his face was impassable, and I could have sworn (if I hadn't known any better) that he was blushing.

“Whatever, I know there's no way you would do this of your own accord.”

“So is that a yes or a no?” He asked shyly, which was an odd tone to my ears coming from him.

I took a step toward him. “Josh, even if you really wanted to go out with me, I would never go out with such a crude jerk like you.”

I pushed past him to my seat in the front of the class. I focused on pulling my notebook out of my bag and staring at the title of the lesson on the board, resisting looking back at him. Just then my friend Corrine took her seat diagonally to the right of mine.

“Hey!” she greeted me.

“Hey.” I grumbled in return. Corrine knows me well enough to know that when I'm in a bad mood she should let me cool off before she asks any questions.

Then Mrs. Carter entered the classroom smiling and said, “Good morning class!”

“Good morning Mrs. Carter!” We echoed back.

“For today's lesson, we'll be reading and discussing some of Shakespeare's first sonnets.” She said.

As she continued with the lesson, I tried to pay attention, but I had my thoughts elsewhere. I tried to resist, but eventually I took out my calculator and used the reflective glass to look at the room behind me. I focused it so that I could see Josh a few seats back. He was slouched in his seat, with a grim, depressed look on his face. His expression was one I had never seen before on Josh. He looked like he wanted to fall into a pit and die. Suddenly, he glanced my direction, and in surprise, I dropped the calculator, which made a loud noise as it hit the floor. Mrs. Carter looked up from the literature book that she had been reading from to look directly at me. I muttered a, “Sorry,” and picked up the calculator. She frowned and returned to the book without comment. As I felt my cheeks grow pink, I hoped that Josh hadn't realized I was watching him.

Madchen's Chapter One

Madchen is having trouble figuring out this whole blogging thing, so she emailed her thing to me.

Chapter 1

 "C'mon Beka!"

"No."

"It'll be fun!"

"No."

"There will be people there!"

"Precisely."

"Don't be such a wet rag!"

I sighed and closed my book with a snap, making Julianna Kiram and Emily Baget, my best friends, Jump in surprise.

"Look, both of you can just cut it out, right now. I. DON'T. DANCE."

"But you have to come!" Emily cried.

"No."

"But--"

"NO! how many times do I have to tell you? I'm NOT GOING!"

they both looked at each other, worried.

"What are you going to tell Joseph?" Julianna asked me, smiling slyly.

"Joseph?" I asked, confused. "Joseph who?"

"Joseph DeVera." Emily replied, a slightly dreamy quality to her voice.

"What does he have to do with anything?" I asked, confusion multiplying by three.

"He likes you, and we told him that we would get you to go to the dance with him." Julianna blurted.

I closed my eyes and pursed my lips. one of them made a noise that sounded like the beginnings of an explanation, but I held up a hand to cut her off. I needed just a moment to take this in.

He likes me, and they said that they would g--

"Wait, you WHAT!?" I yelled at them. they both looked at the table guiltily

"Oh no. No No No No No. you two are going straight back and telling him that I am NOT GOING!"

"But Rebeka--" Emily started.

"NO BUTS. I'm staying home." I glared at both of them. Julianna glared back, fire in her eyes.

"Rebeka Kalicasto, you are going to that dance with Joseph DeVera if I have to tie you up and force you there AT GUNPOINT! DO YOU UNDERSTAND!?"

"No."

It was the wrong thing to say.

Which was why, four hours later, I was wearing a dress and glaring at Emily and Julianna across the gym.

Mental note; I should choose my friends more carefully.

"Er... Would you like to dance?" Joseph asked shyly.

"Um... Okay. I guess."

Shaking, I placed my left hand on his shoulder and my right in his outstretched hand. we swayed awkwardly back and forth until the song ended. we both dropped our arms to our sides, quickly.

"That was... Fun." I said, trying to smile.

"Well, not really." Joseph said, actually smiling. "Let's go get some refreshments."

I smiled for real this time too, and we both relaxed. Julianna passed close by and whispered "I told you so!"

"Shut up." I whispered back, but I was still smiling. she was right, this wasn't so bad. 

The refreshment table on the edge of the crowd was covered in bowls of ice cream toppings. people were lining up for scoops of the sweet treat and covering them in nuts and M&M's.

Joseph and I stepped into line and got out ice cream. He chose caramel and chocolate syrup topped with whipped cream. I went for fresh strawberries and blueberries. we sat down next to some of his friends and their dates.

after a few minutes of listening to our table's conversation, I excused myself to get a drink.

A very strange girl stood by the punch bowl. she had pale blonde hair and big grey eyes. but weirdest of all, she was wearing a bright blue blouse covered in green spots, and a red, yellow and purple plaid skirt. she was getting some weird looks from passersby, but didn't seem to notice. in fact, she seemed really distracted.

"Are you from here?" I asked her. she jumped.

"Oh! You scared me! no, I'm not from here. not at all." she said, still preoccupied with scanning the faces of the crowd.

"Are you looking for someone?" I prompted.

She turned and looked at me curiously. "Yes, yes I am. And I have to find her fast or else I'll have to leave without her."

"Well, who is she? Maybe I can help you find her."

"Okay, her name is Rebeka Kalicasto. Do you know her?"

I gasped, and a shiver went down my spine.

"You do know her?! Do you know where she is?!" She said, suddenly excited.

"W-Well yes! Of course I know her! My name is Rebeka Kalicasto!"

The girl started, then stared at me in shock. "well what are we waiting for?! We've got to go!"

she grabbed my wrist and had pulled me out into the hallway before my brain had processed that thought. I dug in my heels and wrenched my hand away.

"Wait! Who are you? what's going on?" 

"I'm Siri. And... Wait," she stopped and looked at me incredulously.  "What do you mean 'What's going on?' You should already know what is going on!" She looked puzzled. "The letter must not have gotten through. Drat it all! Now I have to explain everything..."

"Look, I think you've got the wrong per--" I managed to say before she had hold of my wrist again and was hauling me away.

she burst through the double doors at the end of the hall and into the frosty night air, not slowing down until we reached an unremarkable stretch of brick wall. she let go of my hand and began knocking on bricks, muttering to herself.

I began to back away slowly, hoping to get away from her and back to the dance.

"Ah-HA!" she said, tapping a certain brick. it sounded different than the other ones, as if it were hollow.

"Here goes!" she grunted, pushing on it hard.

there was a grinding sound as it went into the wall. the ground shuddered violently, throwing my feet out from under me.

"Brace yourself!" Siri yelled, giving a wild whoop of excitement, and I was falling into darkness.

One World At a Time; Chapter Two

            Prince Raymond glanced at his arm. Blood poured out of his bullet wound, staining the expensive Italian suit Tiff had given him. There weren’t many Italian suits left in the world. What a shame.

            Quickly reloading his Elephant Gun, Ray looked over the ruined landscape. The once perfect lawn spewed smoke. It was a horrid mesh of scorch marks and craters. Tables were overturned, glasses smashed, and bodies strewn everywhere.

            Elizabeth’s parties always went amiss.

            A zeppelin burned in the crimson skies above. Careening towards Ray’s pavilion, it threatened to explode. If it exploded, the mansion would burn. That would be such a pity. The mansion was such a quaint place.

            “Rally!” Ray shouted.

            The few aristocrats still alive mustered behind him, hefting whatever guns they had found in the stash. Ray’s lip twitched when he saw Nevin. Half of Nevin’s mustache burned, turning into powdery ash. And such a lovely mustache too!

            The rebels advanced. The steady patter of machine gun fire from the rebel side was punctuated occasionally by agonized screams. A table to the right of Ray shattered as a wave of bullets smashed through.

            “Charge!” Ray screamed.

            He and the other aristocrats charged forward. A boy next to Ray screamed in a high voice, lifting the flag of the Empire high. For better or worse, the last stand was under way.

            A bullet grazed Ray’s cheekbone. He winced as he felt it crack, sending shoots of pain through his eyeball and into his head. For a brief moment he thought he was going to faint.

            A huge boom echoed as the zeppelin flew into pieces. Fireballs and white-hot metal laced the skies, lighting the gloomy clouds overhead. Twilight threatened to reach over the brink and throw the day into night.

            Raymond knew it was the end. He prepared himself for death and pulled the trigger while he was at it.

            A clump of rebels screamed and fell.

            Ray smiled with grim satisfaction. Half of his men had been mowed down in the charge, including the boy with the flag. Revenge felt sweet.

            “Reinforcements!” Nevin yelled to Ray.

            “On which side?” Ray asked, looking wildly about. All they needed now was more rebels trying to kill them.

            “Ours! It’s the wizards!”

            “Fall back,” Ray ordered. “Let the wizards do their work.”

            Wizards rumbled in on their jeeps. Their crisp, grey uniforms were untouched by the battle so far, and energy seemed evident on their faces.

            “Lemonade, Sir?” a servant asked.

            “Eh?” Ray said. “Oh. Okay. But give some to the men first.”

            “As you wish,” the servant said, smiling coldly. “Always as the royalty wishes.”

            Ray didn’t trust the way the servant had said that. He twiddled his thin, waxed mustache and wondered whether the lemonade was poisoned.

            “Servant!” Ray shouted over the sounds of battle. “Please, come back here for a moment.”

            “Has my master decided to take the lemonade after all?”

            “You can never trust the quality of lemonade these days,” Ray complained. “Please, if you would, taste the lemonade for me.”

            The servant scowled. “It isn’t my place…”

            “It is your place when I say so,” Ray sniffed. “Go ahead. Take a sip.”

            The servant hesitantly lifted the glass close to his lips. His forehead was beaded with sweat which glistened in the light of the rising moon.

            “Are you certain, Sir?” the servant asked.

            “Quite. Are you afraid to taste it, perhaps? Is it, perchance, poisoned?”

            “No, Your Honor.”

            Ray smiled more coldly than the servant. “Then I suggest you take a sip. Quickly, before I bleed to death and completely ruin this suit.”

            On the battlefield, the rebels were being crushed with ease by the wizards. The rebels were too afraid to use magic these days, Ray thought smugly. Too afraid to use the more powerful, risky version.

            Not that Ray could use magic. As a child, he had struggled over even the simplest of equations. He never could solve for y or x or z. His passion had always been painting and music.

            “You will never do magic,” his father had taunted. “You’re nothing but a useless leech of my power. And do you know what we do to leeches?”

            “What?” Ray had asked. At the time he had been nine.

            “We peel them and squash them. Now run along and play.”

            “Excuse me, Sir,” the servant said impatiently, “but there are others to attend to. Will you take the lemonade or not?”

            Ray vaguely recalled watching the servant take a sip. “Yes, I would love to have the lemonade.”

            As Ray took a sip of his lemonade, he watched the spectacle with distaste. Rebels were blown apart by fireballs and such, spraying nasty stuff all over his once perfect lawn. O how perfect his lawn had been! How much he desired a sunny day and a ride to the Falls to paint! O!…Oh dear. He had gotten quite carried away.

            Such things were an unnecessary luxury when you were a prince and you were in the middle of a gigantic civil war. Duty, duty, duty.

            Ray scowled and marched forward to the exhausted aristocrats.

            “Any serious injuries?” he queried.

            “No, Your Honor,” Milo said, smiling through his teeth, “although half the court was mowed down. I wonder if Limsky would have let that happen…”

            Ray stepped forward and stood tall.

            “Milo, Limsky was in that zeppelin. Limsky is dead.”

            Milo ground his jaw, searching for the right words. Ray knew that Milo hated him and that, if Limsky ever decided too rebel, would side with Limsky immediately. Nevertheless, he was a superb architect and engineer. The government needed him.

            The air beside the group turned hazy, forming into the shape of a man. The area pulled strongly at the aristocrats, as if it had stronger gravity than Earth. Light bent, dust gathered, and, finally, Limsky appeared.

            Limsky’s suit smoked. His hair was ruffled, and his sideburns were nearly burned to a crisp. One of his hands was bloody.

            “Did I miss anything?” he asked, grinning in a childish, lopsided way.

            “No,” Ray said, trying to sound warm. “Your wizards arrived just in time. And my father? Is he safe?”

            Limsky raised an eyebrow and looked up at the stars, mostly shrouded in smoke. When he looked back, steel was set in his expression.

            “The rebels outsmarted us,” he said calmly. “The assassin was just a distraction. The driver, as it turns out, was the real assassin.”

            “And is the assassin dead?”

            “Yes sir,” Limsky said, cheering up. “He was about as good an assassin as a butterfly--a real low-rank wizard.”

            Milo was turning red in the face. He looked at Ray with such hatred, Ray nearly took a step backwards.

            Then it hit him.

            His time chasing after girls and Italian suits was over.

            Prince Raymond was now the emperor.

My Death, 3

Breakfast was eggs, which Robin as beginning to hate. Tom was already at work on a new construction sight. Robin checked the clock. She had twenty minutes before Stacey came to pick her up.
She threw her hair into a ponytail and rammed a baseball cap over it. Preparing two lunches instead of one and foregoing her usual flip-flops to wear her weathered tennis shoes instead, Robin tried to think of whatever she might need. With a gasp, she dashed back upstairs to her room and rummaged under her bed. She returned downstairs, her bag strapped to her back and considerably heavier. At the car horn, Robin snatched up her backpack (with her half-completed Biology homework at the last minute) and ran out the backdoor.

“I slept in.”
“It’s fine,” Stacey said, checking her mirrors. Robin had shut the car door before the sports car roared out of the driveway. Stacey sped the entire length of Robin’s winding road.
“Are we in a hurry?” Robin asked, carefully. Usually when Stacey sped, it meant she was in a bad mood.
“No,” Stacey replied, confused. “What would make you say that?” She ran a stop sign and made a pedestrian jump back onto the curb.
Robin, securing her seatbelt, replied coolly, “No reason.”
At the school parking lot, Stacey screeched centimeters before a parked car’s bumper.
“You’re sure nothing’s bothering you?” Robin asked again.
“Oh!” Stacey said, climbing out of the car and slamming the driver-side door. “Jeremy’s just being weird, that’s all.”
“Weird?”
“Jealous,” Stacey corrected.
“Of anyone in particular?”
Stacey let out a great exasperated sigh. “Brent, of all people! I mean, everyone knows we’re just friends, right?”
“Yeah,” Robin validated. Stacey continued to explain Jeremy’s increasing protectiveness. Robin wouldn’t have admitted it, but she knew she wasn’t listening. Her mind was on this afternoon’s plans.
“Hey, Stac,” Robin shamelessly interrupted her friend, “do you think you could get me home a little earlier tonight?”
“Yeah,” said Stacey, a little off-guard. “Why?”
“I need to run an errand.”
‘Running an errand’ was code the two had adopted for Robin visiting her brother’s grave.
“What, again? You just went last weekend.”
“I know,” Robin rejoined, starting to walk a little ahead of Stacey. “I need to go again, ok?”
“Ok…” Stacey said and jogged to catch up.
Entering the school, they met up with Brent as usual, only this time Stacey kept to the other side of Robin. On their way into Biology, Brent bent over and whispered to Robin, “Stacey ok?”
“Jeremy saw,” was Robin’s quick answer before taking her seat by Stacey. Conscientiously, Brent sat on the opposite side of Robin.
Biology felt weird that morning. Stacey didn’t barrage Mr. Barrus with her usual stream of questions and took only sparse notes. She didn’t start to act normal until Brent had to separate himself again to perform another lab project. Lunch was even stranger. Brent usually sat by his two best friends, but today Robin spotted him amongst his wrestling team. He happened to turn around at that moment, caught Robin’s eye, gave her a shrug, and turned back to his teammates.
“It’s not like I don’t like Brent,” Stacey was saying. She dropped her tray of cold pizza next to Robin’s. “It’s just that I really don’t want to make Jeremy mad again…”
Robin forked her lunch like she was a professional acupuncturist, but didn’t eat. Her biggest problem was getting a ride since Tom would still have the Sudan. Periodically, Stacey asked a question and Robin gave her a sympathetic look and helplessly answered, “I don’t know, Stac. It’s tough, I know.”
During the drive home, Jeremy again resurfaced in their conversation. Out of the blue, Stacey blurted, “So, should I just stop being friends with Brent? Jeremy and I have been together for…four whole months! I can’t just dump him. Robin?”
“I don’t know, Stac,”
There was silence in the car while Stacey suspiciously eyed her friend, who was looking out the window as usual.
“I don’t think you’ve been listening,” she stated. “Look at me!”
“Sorry.” Robin shifted her gaze to the car radio. “My mind’s somewhere else.”
“Ok, so why do you have to go again today? Is something up?”
“No,” Robin sharply answered. “We just… I need to talk, that’s all.”
“What, you can’t talk to me? I’m actually here.”
Robin didn’t answer. Stacey let out a huff and let Robin off at her driveway.
“Hey!” she called as Robin got out of the car. Robin turned impatiently.
“Smile, ok?”

She finally drove off, satisfied with a smile that would have passed for a grimace in different light. Without bothering to go inside, Robin opened her bag. Thanatos, adding a few more pounds to her backpack, squished her second lunch. She checked her wallet: just enough for a round-trip bus fare. Robin waited for her friend make the last bend before she started to walk. Stacey thought she was going with Tom.
The bus was crowded; it was five o’clock and every breadwinner was trying to get home. Squished between a woman in a suit and a man in coveralls, Robin stuck in her ear buds. The woman made a few desperate attempts at conversation, which Robin successfully shot down with a non-conversational nod. She avoided eye contact by putting her backpack on her knees, leaning over it, and becoming mystified in her own converse sneakers.
From the bus stop, the graveyard was only a few blocks away. Robin stuck her hands in her pockets and set off with resolution. A female rocker’s husky voice streamed from her MP3, slammed her ears, and echoed in her thoughts. Robin’s strong stride matched the beat. Somehow, the rocker’s lyrics about an ex-boyfriend morphed and the song was unmistakably about Gordon.
It was all about Gordon reading his sports magazine in his bedroom; flashing his college mail in front of his parents while Hilda clapped; eating his favorite lunch, peanut butter and banana on whole wheat; banging his head to rock music while driving in his tiny, faded red hatchback; telling Robin about high school; studying for Biology tests, his hardest subject; spraying Robin with a water gun in February; telling Max Groban that Robin had a crush on him (she didn’t).
Then he drove home from school on a Thursday afternoon. Robin died.
A blaring car horn made Robin jump. She had entered a crosswalk without looking. Flustered and half awake, she stepped back onto to the curb and waved apologetically at the driver. ‘What are you thinking?’ his gesture asked.
For the first time, Robin looked around her. She didn’t recognize that restaurant, the one with the garish red and yellow sign and a dancing hotdog out front. She squinted in the late afternoon sun at the street sign. Her heart sunk. She had walked in the opposite direction. Pulling out her cell phone, Robin checked the time. She would have to run all the way to the cemetery and complete her plan in less than an hour to catch the bus back home—she had to beat Tom.
She doubled back at a jog, which made her ear buds fall out. Robin stuffed them back into her pocket without pausing. Revisiting the bus stop, she halted. She called herself stupid for wasting time, but stopped all the same. For a moment, she considered waiting there until her bus arrived. Her plan had been risky enough without a time limit. She should go home and try again later. Or she could just go home. She jogged in place for a moment, trying to make up her mind. She had homework, Tom might be home early, and anyway, it’s not like Gordon would stop being dead any time soon. Robin stood still. Or could he? Robin revived her race to the cemetery, a new vigor driving her.

She crashed into the iron gates, heaving for breath and sweating. Still panting, she pushed on the gates again, but they didn’t budge. They were already locked for the evening; did she really waste that much time? Confused, Robin pulled out her phone. They must lock them early on weekdays.
Robin looked first to the right and then to the left. Slipping her backpack off, she flung it over the spiked bars. It made perfect clearance and crashed on the opposite side. The next bit was trickier. The only horizontal bar was eight feet from the ground. The vertical bars were wet from recent sprinklers. After the first several tries of alternating gripping and jumping, Robin dropped back to the ground, panting with frustration. Then an idea struck her (after the thought that she shouldn’t have flung her backpack over until she knew she could climb the fence). Slipping off the converse and stuffing her socks inside them, she tied the laces together and slung them around her neck. Five years ago, Gordon showed her the trick to scaling walls when he climbed a neighbor’s seven-foot picket fence to reclaim their stray Frisbee. She used to tease him about his monkey toes.
Robin rubbed her palms against her jeans to get the sweat off them. She curled her short, stumpy toes around the iron bards and clutched with her hands as high as she could. The first time, she slipped immediately. The grass, as wet as her forehead, ruined the grip on her feet. She stepped back, put her hands on her hips, and thought.
Gordon’s athletic inspiration struck again. Besides football, he had also been their high school’s track star, setting three new records for long jump and high jump combined. Robin took a few steps back and gauged the wall as best she could. She ran, leaped, grappled, heaved, swung over, and dropped on the other side with only a few yellow bruises to show for it. She grabbed her backpack from where it had landed on the cemetery lawn. The zipper pulled apart when it crashed and Thanatos leapt a few yards further, greedily soaking up the dew in its parched yellow pages. Robin scooped it up and stuffed it back in the bag as she marched onward. Her brother was waiting.