2012-2013 Pickford Young Writers Anthology of Short Stories and Poetry

by Pickford Community Library Young Writers Workshop

  He caught a glimpse of a girl sitting across the park. He knew what she was feeling from that empty look in her eyes, for lately he had had the same look in his own eyes. He knew being alone at times like these could be dangerous. He knew the evil thoughts that creep into a person's mind when he or she just can't handle the pain anymore.

  She rocked back and forth, dreading the idea of going home to face her parents. She closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, then she opened them again; a young man was walking toward her. She wasn't afraid, which surprised her, as she was a cautious girl who kept to herself. But she could see kindness in his eyes, and when he smiled at her she felt hopeful. As he approached, he said one word, one word that was the beginning of everything, one word that changed two lives. "Hi."

  That day they each found someone they could confide in. He talked about his hopes and dreams, and when she was amazed by them, he was taken aback. She believed in him and found him inspiring. She said he changed her outlook on life. She told him how much of a disappointment she was to her family because she felt she was different. He said he thought she was perfect the way she was, that she was original, and he liked that. She was thrilled at his acceptance of her. They decided to meet at that old wooden park bench once a week. Before they knew it, they were meeting every day after school; they were never late.

  Their friendship grew into the best kind of love, accepting each other as they were, faults and all. Five months after that first day in the park, he asked her to be his girlfriend. She said yes. They were the happiest they had ever been. They truly knew what hope, love and happiness meant.

  Once, a long hard day for them both triggered a fight. The smallest thing set him off, and she overreacted. She ran home crying. He sat on the old wooden bench, terrified he had lost her. But that night he knocked on her door, and she forgave him as soon as he said that first word, “Hi.”

  Two years later they were living in a tiny apartment as he worked on his first novel and she attended art school. He took her to the park and carved their initials in a large oak tree. He then got down on one knee and asked her to be his forever. She said yes. He couldn't control himself as he jumped up and lifted her in a giant hug. She wrapped her arms around him and swore that she would never let go.

  Fast-forward a few more years...they looked down at their newborn baby. The husband gently squeezed his wife's hand. She thought about how he had given her the courage to show off her paintings in an art gallery when she wasn't sure they were good enough. Now people from all over the world requested her paintings. She always said her husband gave her the inspiration she needed. He was thinking how lucky he was to have her. She had supported him during the dreadful first few weeks after his book was published and he had received some negative reviews. Now he was a best-selling author. He knew that without her, he could not have done it. They promised each other to raise their child in a house filled with love and encouragement. As their child's eyes opened for the first time they both knew exactly what to say. "Hi."

  Many years later, the man lay on his deathbed with his sleeping wife's hand in his. He smiled. He had achieved everything he'd ever wanted, and his beautiful soul mate had never left his side. They had beautiful children and grandchildren. Several of his books had been made into movies years ago and were still popular. He smiled; he had no regrets. He would forever be grateful to that sad girl sitting on the park swing. She had changed his life forever, and all because he had spoken one word. The smallest thing can have the biggest impact on one's life. Those two young people had saved each other that day so many years ago.

  She opened her eyes and looked at her husband. He smiled at her and said, "Hi."

  Bailey West is a 10th grade student at Pickford High School. In addition to traditional styles, she loves to write using new creative techniques. In this story, a new style for her, she reversed the usual use of dialogue to tell the story and did a narrative with only “One Word” of dialogue throughout.

  TERROR BOND

  by Jessica Arman

  Preface

  Every instructor and staff member, along with some of Rhea's agents, had gathered for an informational meeting one week before the semester was scheduled to start. The meeting was being presented by the NHTPA (Nuclear Hazards and Terrorist Plots Agency). Rhea, the top agent in her field, was leading the meeting because she had been attending this high school undercover for the last five years.

  “You all know me by a different last name, but my real name is Rhea Bridges,” she said to the blank faces staring at her. “I am an agent with the NHTPA and am required to inform you of a serious terrorist plot.” The instructors all gasped at once. “I know it may come as a shock, but I am well trained for this particular type of situation.” She stepped away from the podium, and her managing agents took over. They explained how Rhea had come to them and what the plot was about...without disclosing too many details. The agents finished, and the room was completely silent.

  “You can actually talk?” Ms. Hiled asked, breaking the silence. She was an instructor at a local community college and had been Rhea's advanced English lit teacher for three years.

  Rhea laughed. “Yes, actually I can talk. Pretty well too, I think. I was given an alias, and it happened to be that of the quiet, smart kid.”

  “So you've been faking it all these years?” Ms. Hiled asked. “You're good!”

  “Just part of my job,” Rhea responded. “So now that you know what's going on, I expect you'll be ready if terror really does strike.” There was no mistaking her seriousness when she told them, “No students are to know about this.”

  It was just another day in the Brickford advanced English lit class until the terrorists showed up. Rhea walked through the empty school library and into the adjoining ITV room just as the clock struck the hour. The room contained four TVs and three cameras. Two tables were pushed together in the middle of the room with six cushioned chairs on one side facing the TVs. Rhea sat beside Skip, a tall skinny brainiac. Miley, a farm girl with dirty-blond layered hair was in the next chair, and Mick, a short dark-haired computer genius, sat in the third. Next was Brylin, an annoying snob, then Red, an athlete, and finally Kailey, a tall skinny fashion expert.

  Rhea was five-foot-five, skinny, light brown hair with blond highlights...the kind of girl who blended into any background without being particularly noticeable. Today she was wearing a white tank top under a dark brown leather jacket, dark blue skinny jeans, and calf-height black leather boots. Like every other day, she had made sure her gun was strapped to the inside of her lower leg, and her backup weapon was clipped to her jeans in the small of her back.

  The TVs had completed their connections to the local community college and the other schools, and class had begun. “So what did you think of the story?” Ms. Hiled, the instructor, asked.

  “It was disturbing,” a student at one of the other schools said.

  “It was really nasty,” Skip said to Brylin, not loud enough for Ms. Hiled to hear.

  “I didn't really understand what it was about,” Brylin whispered; she never read the stories.

  “They were talking about eating people and using the carcasses for clothes,” Skip answered.

  “EWWWW!” Brylin groaned.

  At about twenty minutes into class Rhea received a message on her pager. She read the words “BE READY” but did not think much of it. By now Ms. Hiled was having an argument with a Reedville High School student, and everyone in Brickford was using his or her laptop to do anything but the assignment. Something crashed inside the library, and everyone jerked around to look through the door.

  Mick went to see what had caused the noise and came back carrying a rock. “Someone threw this through the window.”

  Things began to click in Rhea's head. Just as she was putting it all together she got another message on her pager. It was only one word, but it was the one word she did not want to see, not there, not in that classroom—“NOW.” In a low,
questioning whisper she said, “Why now? Please, not now.”

  A second rock came flying through the ITV room window and hit Skip in the back. “Ow, what was that?”

  “Another rock,” Mick said as he bent down to pick it up.

  “Don't touch it!” Rhea yelled, startling everyone in the room, making them flinch and stare at her.

  “Brickford, is there a problem?” Ms. Hiled asked.

  “Call the number I gave you and don't ask any questions,” Rhea ordered the woman as she hit the mute button on each of the TVs. She turned to Mick. “Drop that first rock.” He did. Rhea turned back to the others. “Everyone stay calm and stay put. Do you understand?”

  “What's happening?” Red asked. “And since when can you talk?”

  “Now is not the time for Q&A. We have to figure out how to open these,” Rhea said, gesturing to the rocks.

  “They're just rocks,” Brylin said in a snobbish tone and rolled her eyes.

  “They are not just rocks, and if you want to live, you'll do as I say,” Rhea said, trying to keep her voice calm. “Everyone, turn off your computers and cell phones.” She went to one of the media cabinets, unlocked one of the doors, and took out a metal box. “Red, disconnect us from the other schools.” Without question, Red did what Rhea had told him to do. “Now is your only chance. If anyone wants to leave, go. But don't come back here, and most importantly, don't say anything to anyone.” She looked right at Brylin.

  Brylin stood up, grabbed her things, and left without a word. No surprise there.

  “Anyone else?” Rhea asked. No one moved. Rhea opened the box, and everyone moved back. “What do you need those for?” Kailey asked, terrified at the contents.

  Rhea removed a silver knife and closed the lid. “OK. Mick, watch the door. Everyone else, sit down.” She stabbed the knife into every crack she could find on the rock with no luck. Everyone stared. There was no noise except for the knife hitting the rock, the clicks of the TVs, and everyone's rapid breathing. Rhea could no longer stand the annoying silence. “You know, you are allowed to talk. It's not like it'll blow up if you speak.”

  “Who are you?” Miley asked.

  “What do you mean? You know who I am.”

  “I don't think we do,” Skip said. “The person we know doesn't talk and wouldn't tell an instructor what to do.”

  “People change in life-and-death situations,” Rhea said, not looking up.

  No one said anything else. Rhea kept poking the rock and muttering. The silence was getting on her nerves, and she was beginning to feel guilty about keeping them in this situation without telling them the truth about herself. She fought the voice in her head that kept telling her they would be better off not knowing; her conscious kept telling her they deserved to know the truth. She went with her conscience. “I work for the NHTPA and have been undercover here for that past five years.” She avoided looking up at anyone's face. She knew she would see only shock and questioning. “I came here because I was following a major terrorist group in the region.” Why isn't this opening? she wondered.

  “You aren't a high school student?” Miley asked.

  “I am high school age, but I graduated from high school when I was nine and college when I was twelve.” Everyone stared at Rhea with their mouths open.

  “So you had to take all the classes again that you already took?” Skip asked.

  “No, the classes I've been taking here are new. When I was in the NHTPA Special Training Program I was taking advanced courses,” Rhea told them.

  “It must have been torture being the quiet kid for five years,” Mick said.

  “It wasn't too bad, but I had to put up with a lot of crap,” Rhea answered. “It was hard to keep from caving and telling everyone who I really was.”

  “What do those initials stand for?” Kailey asked.

  “Nuclear Hazards and Terrorist Plots Agency.”

  “Have there really been terrorists here for the past five years?”

  “The first scare was just before I was assigned here, and a couple of months ago our agency arrested a suspect who did some talking,” she told them. “Why won't this thing open?” She slammed the rock on the table and BANG! It exploded, pushing Rhea backwards over her chair, Mick onto his back in the doorway, and everyone else to the ground.

  “What the...?” Mick said rubbing his head as he got up. His black shirt was covered in white dust and his pants had black burn marks on them.

  Rhea groaned, massaging her shoulder and getting back into her chair. The front of her shirt was black and had small holes in it. Everyone was rubbing parts of their bodies as they got back up.

  “Everyone all right?” Rhea asked.

  “Um...you have little rock pieces stuck in your face,” Skip said, looking horrified. His face was streaked with black.

  Rhea touched her face and felt the little pieces along with a bit of blood dripping from the wounds. “Don't worry about them. I'm fine.” But she could see the unnerved looks on all the faces, so she rose, turned her back, and picked out some of the larger chunks, wincing each time. “Ow, ooh, that's better,” she said, wiping the blood from her face with a tissue as she turned back to the table.

  “Well, I guess you know how to open the other one now,” Mick said.

  “Yeah, but I still don't know how I was supposed to use it. And I don't know if I even want to try and open the other one.”

  “What was in it?” Kailey asked.

  Rhea panicked. She had not even thought about that since the explosion. She dropped to her knees and began searching for something that could have been inside the rock. A couple of others did the same. “Look for anything out of the ordinary, but don't touch it. I don't know how big it will be or what it's programmed to do,” she said.

  “Here!” Mick pointed at something.

  Rhea picked up a key the size of a quarter.

  “What does it open?” Mick asked.

  “I'm not sure, but you might want to stand back because I have to open the other rock.” She grabbed the other rock, and everyone backed away, shielding their eyes. Rhea slammed the second rock against the far wall. It banged open, and when the smoke cleared, she found another key, the same size, but a different shape.

  Her pager went off, giving her orders to turn her phone on. She searched her pockets, found it, and punched it on. It rang within seconds. “Yes,” she said and listened for a while. “Are you sure?...Why now?...Yeah, I have four hidden...There are five others with me, but I trust them...Yeah...OK.” She hung up and looked at her fellow classmates, dread written all over her face.

  “What was that about?” Red asked.

  Rhea did not answer. She unlocked a drawer under the TVs and took out a black briefcase. She brought it to the table but did not open it.

  “What's in there?” Skip asked.

  Again Rhea did not answer. She took out her phone, punched in a number, and waited. “Lock down,” she said and hung up. Immediately an announcement came over the intercom saying, “Attention teachers, the school is now on lock down.”

  “What? Why?” Miley asked.

  Rhea was deciding if she should tell them. At the same time, she was deciding whether to trust Red and Skip with what was in the box. She sat down; everyone else did too. “The first phone call was my supervisor. It's been confirmed that the terrorists have been sighted in the area and are planning something today.” There was a slight intake of air around the room, but she went on. “This box contains three of four guns that are hidden in this school. The briefcase contains keys that open the trigger locks on the guns in the box.”

  Everyone sat up a little straighter.

  “You've kept guns in the school? And the teachers knew about it?” Kailey asked.

  “Well...the teachers didn't exactly know, but yes, four guns, three in this box and the fourth in a location only one person in the school knows about. But that person isn't me,” Rhea explained. She fidgeted wi
th the two keys that had been inside the rocks, trying to figure out what they would unlock. No one moved or spoke for several minutes. They all sat there staring from Rhea to the box, then to the briefcase, then back to Rhea.

  “I guess I should fill you in on some of the things my supervisor asked when I was on the phone a few minutes ago,” Rhea said after a while. “He asked if I was with anyone here, and I told him I was with all of you. Then he asked if I could trust you, and I said yes; I hope I won't regret that,” she said as she removed two of the three handguns from the box, loaded them, and handed one to Skip and one to Red. The two boys looked at the guns like they had just been handed time bombs. Everyone's mouths were gaping open, and their eyes were the size of hubcaps.

  “I've decided you two are the ones I trust with those,” she said as she unbuckled her own handgun and removed it from the brace around her leg. “I'll leave the third gun here in the box just in case.”

  “We won't really have to use them, will we?” Red asked, looking terrified.

  “I honestly hope not,” Rhea said. “Only if it's absolutely necessary.”

  “Have you ever shot anyone before?” Mick asked. He was looking at her with a new kind of respect evident on his face.

  “Nope, and I hope I won't have to today.” As Rhea loaded her own gun, another message came over her pager. It read, “THEY'RE HERE.” She cursed under her breath and looked up.

  “What?” Skip asked.

  “They're here now,” she said in a low voice. She walked through the ITV door into the library and peered carefully out the broken window. She ran back to the classroom and began giving instructions. “Do not leave this room. Red, Skip, don't use those unless you absolutely must. Miley, Kailey, each of you take a key and don't give it to anyone. Hang on tight to it, and whatever you do, don't lose it.”