Informational Pieces by Brother and Sister Authors

Informational Pieces

Pointe Shoes By: Dana Gottlieb Have you ever wondered how ballerinas like Misty Copeland, Gelsey Kirkland, and Anna Pavlova made their dancing look so effortless, as if they were floating on air? Look no further than their feet. Ballerinas wear a special type of shoe, called a pointe shoe, to help them dance on the tips of their toes and give the illusion that they are gliding across the stage. These days, pointe shoes are synonymous with ballet, but this wasn’t always the case. The pointe shoes that ballerinas wear today are the product of hundreds of years of innovation by dancers and scientists who have worked to engineer a shoe that is supportive and allows ballerinas the most flexibility in their movement. Modern ballet dates back to 17th century France, where the first dance company, the Academie Royale de Danse, was established by King Louis XIV. The establishment of the Academie Royale de Danse helped standardize the names and technique for the dance steps that are still in use today. Ballet evolved out of the traditional Italian court dances that had been introduced into French society in the previous century. These court dances involved extravagant costumes and were often part of larger celebrations. King Louis XIV was particularly fond of dancing in and watching these productions. Prior to the invention of pointe shoes, men were the central focus of most ballet dancing; women played a secondary role. This can be attributed largely to the difference in attire each gender was expected to wear while dancing in the French courts. Men wore tights, as they do today, which allowed them to jump and dance with greater range of motion. Women, however, were expected to wear high heels, gigantic wigs with headdresses, large skirts, and corsets. Individually, none of these articles of clothing was conducive to much movement. Collectively, these costumes made it nearly impossible for women to move with any grace. Ballet changed once women were allowed to wear flat ballet shoes and dance in more comfortable costumes. Court dance costumes restricted women’s dancing to no more than transitioning from pose to pose, with little other movements in between. Once they were no longer confined by their clothing, women began to jump, leap, and turn much more when they danced. With this new freedom, dancers and choreographers began experimenting with different types of movement, including rising high up on the balls of their feet, also known as demi pointe, while they moved. The first recorded instance of dancers rising all the way on their toes occurred in 1795 with Charles Didelot’s invention of the “flying machine.” This contraption helped ballerinas appear to be on the tips of their toes just before they leapt into the air. It wasn’t until 1832, when Marie Taglioni danced an entire ballet en pointe, that dancers and choreographers began to discover the endless possibilities of movement. Ballet historians believe that dancers had been dancing on their toes for as long as 100 years prior to these recorded instances, however, this was most likely done on the way into other positions or for fleeting moments as a stunt meant to grab the audience’s attention. The earliest pointe shoes only distantly resembled their modern relative. Once women abandoned wearing heeled shoes, flat-bottomed shoes became the new standard for ballet dancing. Initially, dancers experimented with darning and stitching regular ballet shoes to reinforce the fabric around their toes. Even with the modifications, ballet shoes were not strong enough to support a dancer on her toes for long periods of time. Anytime a dancer rose to her toes she had to compensate for the lack of support in her shoes by using more of her leg strength to support her body. As dance steps became more intricate and demanding modified ballet shoes were no longer sufficient. Pointe shoes needed to evolve to provide support for the dancers’ feet. Most pointe shoes are still made by hand. Modern pointe shoes are comprised of three distinct parts. The box is the part of the shoe that supports the dancer’s toes while she is en pointe. It is made of fabric and paper held together by glue. The glue hardens the fabric and paper to create a supportive casing for the ballerina’s foot. The shank is found inside the sole of the shoe. Usually a piece of leather or plastic, the shank supports the arch in the dancer’s foot. The sole of a pointe shoe needs to be stiffer so that it will not bend too easily, which would put too much strain on the dancer’s foot. The ribbons and elastic at the back of the shoe go around the dancer’s ankle to provide support and to ensure that the shoe will stay on her foot while she is dancing. Because each dancer’s feet are unique in size, shape, and arch, pointe shoes are often custom made to fit each individual dancer. Many factors are taken into consideration when fitting dancers for their pointe shoes, including the width, size, and shape of their feet, the height of their arch, and the length of their toes. Ballerinas train for years before being allowed to dance in pointe shoes. Dancing en pointe requires a great deal of strength in the feet, legs, and core. A dancer who starts using pointe shoes when she is too young or too early into her training can risk serious injury. The next time you go to the theater to enjoy a production of The Nutcracker or Swan Lake, take a moment to notice and appreciate the ballerinas’ feet. Her elegance and grace as she floats across the stage are a result of hundreds of years of experimentation and thousands of hours of practice and hard work. Sources: http://historycooperative.org/the-pointe-shoe-a-history/ http://proteus.brown.edu/13things/7615 http://www.dancer.com/hist2.php

https://www.australianballet.com.au/education/about_ballet/the_pointe_shoe

The War at Home

by Vera Schneider

With the recent release of the blockbuster movie American Sniper in 2015, America has gotten an inside look at the internal war our soldiers wage when they return home.  The movie gives viewers a glimpse into the mental state of soldiers and the challenges of adjusting to civilian life.  The Veteran Affairs (VA) reported in 2011 that one in every four veterans receiving VA services from the post 9/11 wars is being treated for Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).  PTSD  is defined by the American Psychiatric Association as an anxiety disorder caused by an incident of significant stress. PTSD can be found among survivors of major catastrophes like the Holocaust or natural disasters.  It can also be prevalent in individuals who experience car accidents,sexual/physical assaults, and traumatic experiences such as combat.  

PTSD is getting a great deal of attention in today’s world.  Between 2004 and 2012 the amount of deployed soldiers being diagnosed with PTSD has grown by 400%.  The growing number of deployed soldiers being diagnosed in recent years may lead one to think that PTSD is a new phenomenon.  On the contrary, instances of PTSD date back as far as 400 B.C.  The modern name is a far cry from the original terms, “nostalgia”, “shell shock”, “gross stress reaction,” and “battle fatigue” to name a few.

Greek historian Herodotus documented instances of stress induced anxiety on the battlefields in 480 B.C.  Spartan leader Leonidas dismissed several soldiers before the Battle of Thermoplyae because he could tell that they were psychologically worn out from previous battles saying, “They had no heart for the fight.”  

One of the first documented attempts at diagnosing soldiers with PTSD was by a military physician in 1678.  The behaviors were defined as “nostalgia”.  The symptoms included melancholy, thinking of home, insomnia, loss of appetite, cardiac palpitations and fever.  Around the same time the Germans gave a name to the phenomena, calling it heimwech which means, “homesickness.”  Despite the serious symptoms, physicians were giving the phenomena names that did not imply the seriousness of the condition.

With the American Civil war in 1861 came a name associated more with fear of battle, than with the trauma associated with war.  “Soldiers heart” had similar symptoms which included emotional ups and downs, paralysis, uncontrollable shaking of the hands and feet, severe palpitations, and self-inflicted wounds.  Civil War physicians noted that men returning home from war would display symptoms that they never exhibited while near the battlefields.  As a result of the many reports of psychiatric breakdown, commanders and doctors asked the War Department to provide screening to avoid recruiting soldiers that may be prone to a breakdown.  In an effort to solve the problem, the most extreme cases were removed from service.  “They were put on trains with no supervision, the name of their hometown or state pinned to their tunics, others were left to wander the countryside until they died from exposure or starvation,” reported Richard A. Gabriel, a chronicler of PTSD.

The Civil War left many American soldiers mentally damaged.  The increasing number of sick soldiers caused the military to open the Government Hospital for the Insane in Washington D.C.  Since the public’s previous notions about mentally ill soldiers included weakness and lack of bravery soldiers were not eager to be admitted to the Government Hospital for the Insane. Soldiers were often ashamed of receiving treatment and resistant to seek help.  Shortly after the Civil war ended in 1865 the government shutdown the hospital due to lack of funding.

In 1914, World War I brought with it new technological advances in warfare.  The use of heavy artillery and trench warfare impacted the soldiers like never before.  The term “shell shock” emerged from this period because physicians believed that large caliber artillery was producing concussions which impacted the brains of soldiers.  By the end of World War I psychiatrists were beginning to realize that the physiological symptoms of “shell shock” were not attributed to the emotional troubles experienced by soldiers.  Despite this realization, they continued to associate the emotional state of soldiers as a sign of weakness rather than a psychological disorder brought on by conditions of war.  

The progress made during the first world war helped jump start the efforts to diagnose soldiers having the same symptoms during World War II.  New nomenclature was identified for the soldiers of the second world war.  They called it, “traumatic war neurosis”, “combat fatigue”, and “battle stress”.  The name that stuck for this time period was “gross stress reaction”.  This was the term coined by the American Psychiatric Association (APA)when they were asked to develop a manual for diagnosing soldiers coming home from battle.  The term was defined as a stress syndrome caused by extreme physical and mental stress.  This was a huge step toward acknowledging the struggles of soldiers returning home from war.  

Although the APA had defined the symptoms post World War II there was little progress toward treatment plans during peace times.  The modern day term “posttraumatic stress syndrome” didn’t emerge until after the Vietnam War.  Clinicians began to use the term to describe individuals with varying levels of the syndrome.  The symptoms used to diagnose post traumatic stress syndrome include re-experiencing the trauma, a numbing of responsiveness and cognitive symptoms.

It’s hard to believe that a condition associated with soldiers at war time that has existed since the Greek and Roman civilizations is continually being redefined and successful treatment remains in the stages of development.  Through looking at the history of PTSD the most common trend was that while physicians had to deal with these symptoms they made efforts to find solutions.  The eb and flow of peace and war times had great impact on the movement toward treatment of soldiers returning home from war.  When the symptoms of PTSD were impacting war efforts they were of concern, but periods of peace brought little further investigation into the matter.

Modern day media has taken it upon itself to bring PTSD to the nation’s attention.  Movies like American Sniper and Brothers and the portrayal of war veterans on television shows like Grey’s Anatomy and Homeland provide a glimpse into the symptoms.  Our society has come a long way in understanding PTSD but the negative stigma surrounding mental illness in our society continues to limit the treatment our soldiers need to be well again.  The VA has countless programs for veterans needing services for PTSD or other mental, or medical needs.  Through deleting the stigma of mental illness and encouraging loved ones returning home to proactively seek help, the future of treatment for PTSD will include a cure.  

https://historyofptsd.wordpress.com/recent-history/

http://www.vva.org/archive/TheVeteran/2005_03/feature_HistoryPTSD.htm

http://www.brainline.org/content/2011/01/posttraumatic-stress-disorder-a-history-and-a-critique_pageall.html

Mark Thompson, “Unlocking the Secrets of PTSD.” TIME. April 6, 2015

        

Bees are Taking Off

Susan Preston

European honeybee and North American bee populations are declining in recent years due primarily to habitat loss and destruction.  Pesticides, extreme weather changes, colony collapse disorder, and diseases have also contributed to this population decline.  While this news may not alarm some people, scientists would argue that it should.   “Close to 90% of the world’s plants rely on bees for fertilization and reproduction,” including many of the plants people eat (Suzuki and Moola, 2009).  While there are other pollinators out there, such as butterflies, bats, and hummingbirds, bees are the most common.  Without bees, people would struggle to survive.

            Recently a possible solution to the world’s bee problem has surfaced in the most unlikely places: airports.  In 1999, Germany became the first country to use their airports’ wide-open fields as a new habitat for beehives, or apiaries.  Their reasoning was simple: beekeepers need more space and airports have space to spare.  Due to safety and noise regulations, cities are not allowed to build on the open land near airports.  Thus, Germany decided to use this open space to increase bee populations, produce honey, and test air quality.  Scientists use the honey the bees produce to test for carbon monoxide.  If there are unsafe levels of carbon monoxide in the air, it affects the plants, and thus the bees, and eventually the honey the bees produce.  Germany uses this test to prove that they are doing their part to cut down on carbon monoxide levels at their airports.  As one final gesture of good will, if the honey is free of carbon monoxide, Germany gives it away for free to the public.

            After Germany’s success with beehives, a few other cities have jumped on the bandwagon, including Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport.  In 2011, Rosemarie Andolino, the aviation commissioner at O’Hare, approached Brenda Palms Barber, founder of Sweet Beginnings, a nonprofit that sets up and manages beehives to produce skincare products and honey.  In an effort to make O’Hare greener, she asked Barber to start an apiary on the open fields of O’Hare.  Barber, who was looking to expand from her 131 beehives around Chicago, agreed to start with 25 beehives at O’Hare.  Since this partnership formed, the O’Hare apiary has grown from 25 to 75 beehives, which house over a million bees, the largest apiary at any airport in the world!

            Sweet Beginnings not only helps to repopulate bees, they also provide job training for individuals who have been incarcerated and other disadvantaged people from their community.  Sweet Beginnings has formed partnerships with Chicago’s Department of Family Support Services and the North Lawndale Employment Network (NLEN) to ensure that people receive a second chance in life.  NLEN is responsible for furnishing, installing, monitoring, and maintaining the beehives at O’Hare.  The honey produced in these hives is processed and distributed as part of Sweet Beginnings’ honey-based skincare products, and also as consumable honey.  These products are all sold at O’Hare’s Farmers Market in terminal three. 

Sweet Beginnings and others have enjoyed success keeping bees in urban habitats because there are people around to manage the hives, urban environments offer a variety of flowers for the bees to pollinate, and there are no agricultural pesticides to endanger the bees.  In fact, O’Hare has proven to be quite the successful habitat for honeybees, producing 1,200 pounds of honey in the first year alone!  This initiative has also received recognition outside of the bee community.  In 2012 O’Hare won two awards for Environmental Achievement from Airports Council International and Urban Land Institute’s Chicago Vision Award.

Yet there are some that fear the presence of so many bees near the world’s busiest airport may cause some operational issues.  This concern was put to rest last July after a swarm of bees appeared near one of the airport’s gates.  It was determined that the bees most likely were not from the airport’s apiary, but were in fact wild bees.  The airport gates are more than three miles away from the hives, which is outside the natural foraging range of the bees.  This problem was also dealt with quickly and smoothly thanks to the head beekeeper, John Hansen, who carefully removed the bees using a special vacuum.  For now it appears that the bees are truly flying the friendly skies with minimal turbulence.

The Secret of Cathay Williams
by Grace Pigozzi

Throughout history, women have occasionally posed as men in order to gain access to a variety of professions and adventures: from piracy to exploration to military service.

Until the 20^th century, the US military was segregated, and women were not allowed to serve. In 1866, Congress established all-black units that later became known as the Buffalo Soldiers. Their role was to protect settlers from Native American attacks. After the Indian Wars ended, some units served in the Spanish-American and Philippine Wars. Buffalo Soldiers later became some of the first US National Park Rangers in Yosemite, Sequoia, and King’s Canyon national parks.

Cathay Williams was a slave, born in Missouri, who was freed by Union Soldiers during the Civil War. She went to work for the Federal Army as a paid servant to military officers. While working as a cook and laundress to General Philip Sheridan, she witnessed battles in Georgia, Virginia, Iowa, and Louisiana. In an effort to maintain her financial independence, Williams disguised herself as a man, and enlisted as William Cathay, a cook, in the 38^th US Infantry in St. Louis in 1866.

That year, she marched with troops to Fort Riley, Kansas. Later, the regiment traveled Fort Union, New Mexico, more than 500 miles away, and then to Fort Cummings, New Mexico. They were stationed there for eight months, protecting miners and traveling immigrants from Apache attack. There is no record that Williams ever saw direct combat while enlisted

In December 1867, a brief mutiny broke out in when a camp follower was expelled for stealing money. Several men were brought up on charges or jailed, but Williams was not among them. Activity and the tension of keeping her secret about her gender affected her health. She was recorded as being in four different hospitals on five separate occasions that year. Amazingly, during these various hospitalizations, it was never discovered that she was female.

It was during a hospitalization in 1868 following a march to Fort Bayard, New Mexico that it was finally discovered that she was a woman. Four months later, William Cathey and was discharged at Fort Bayard with a certificate of disability. Statements from the captain of her company and the post's assistant surgeon deem her “feeble both physically and mentally, and much of the time quite unfit for duty,” and “continually on sick report without benefit.” However, she was honorably discharged and remains on record as the first and only woman to ever serve as a Buffalo Soldier.

She remained in New Mexico until 1872 when she moved to Colorado. She worked as both laundress and nurse. Her health continued to fail, and she lost her hearing. When she filed for an Army pension in 1891, she was denied on the basis that her disabilities existed prior to her Army service. Little else is known about the end of her life. Sources say she died between 1892 and 1900 when her name no longer appears on census rolls.

Sources: “Buffalo Soldiers of the American West,” “The Legacy of West Ford,” “Legends of America”

Children's Stories by UICRC Student Authors

Brothers vs. Birthdays

By: Dana

           “I’m not going!” shrieked Isabel, as she stormed out of the room.  “You can’t make me go!”  Isabel’s mom could hear her stomping all the way upstairs.  A moment later, she heard a door slam.  Isabel’s mom slumped down on the couch. 

“What should we do?” she asked Isabel’s dad.  “It’s not our fault that Sam’s soccer championship game is on the same day as her friend’s birthday party.”

           Upstairs, Isabel was pacing around her room.  Her best friend in the whole world, Jacqueline, was having a birthday party next Saturday and the whole class was invited and she couldn’t go!  And she didn’t even have a good reason.  Her younger brother, Sam, was playing in a soccer game.  That’s it.  Nothing serious.  Just a soccer game.  But for some reason her parents were making her go watch him play.  Isabel was dreading what was going to happen at school tomorrow when she had to tell Jacqueline that she couldn’t go to her birthday party.  Will she still even want to be my friend? wondered Isabel.  Probably not.

           The next day when Isabel was on her way school, she was extremely nervous.  She hoped Jacqueline would be absent, or at least come in after the bell rang so there wouldn’t be time to talk before class.  No such luck.  When Isabel got out of her mom’s car at school, Jacqueline was waiting by the door, waving frantically.

           “Hi Isabel!” she said excitedly.

           “Hi,” Isabel said gloomily. 

           “Why do you look so sad?” asked Jacqueline.

Isabel thought about making up a story to tell Jacqueline, but she finally decided that it was best to tell the truth. 

           “I just found out that I can’t go to your birthday party on Saturday.  My brother is playing in a soccer game at the same time and my parents are making me go,” said Isabel.

Jacqueline stared at her for what felt like a lifetime, before saying, “Are you sure you have to go for the whole time?  I was really looking forward to bowling with you at my birthday party.”  This made Isabel feel even worse.  Of course she would rather be bowling with Jacqueline and all of their classmates instead of watching her brother play in a silly soccer game.

When Isabel got home from school that afternoon she decided to try one more time to convince her parents to let her go to the birthday party.  She decided to wait until dinnertime, when both of her parents would be home.

“This pasta is delicious!” she said, maybe a bit too enthusiastically.  Her parents exchanged strange looks.  “I just love pasta.  What did you do to make it taste so good?”

“Is there something that you would like to tell us?” asked her mother.  Isabel paused and thought very carefully about what she was going to say next.

“Why yes, there is,” she said sweetly. “This salad is the best I have ever eaten.  What’s in it?”

By this point her parents were extremely suspicious.  “Is this about the soccer game?” her father asked.

Without thinking, Isabel blurted out, “It’snotfairthatIhavetogotothegameIjustwanttogotomyfriend’sbirthdayparty!”

“Woah! Slow down,” said her mother.  “Let’s talk about this.  What did you just say? “

Isabel caught her breath.  “I said, it’s not fair that I have to go to the game.  I just want to go to my friend’s birthday party.”

    By this point, Isabel was close to tears.  This was not how she had intended on approaching the subject.  Too late now.  She took a deep breath and waited for her mother’s response.  When her mother finally spoke, Isabel was busy preparing herself for yet another explanation about why she had to go watch Sam play soccer instead of going to Jacqueline’s awesome bowling birthday party.  

    “What if you came to the first half of Sam’s game and then one of us drives you to the birthday party during halftime?  Can you show up late to the birthday party a little late?”

    Isabel just stared at her mother in disbelief.  When she was finally able to speak again, she blurted out, “YES!” a bit louder than she meant to.  Isabel ran to go call Jacqueline and tell her the great news.  

    On Saturday, Isabel watched her brother score what ended up being the winning goal before heading to the bowling alley for Jacqueline’s birthday party.   She arrived just in time to roll a strike and eat a giant slice of cake.  As she was leaving the birthday party she turned to her mom and said, “Thanks for letting me come to the party.  I had a great time.  I’m also happy for Sam that his team won.”  Isabel’s mom smiled and patted her on the back as they walked to the car.  It had been quite a day.

Bad Cat

by: Vera

“Mowgli!” Jill screamed from inside her bedroom.  “You dirty rotten little…stinker!” she added.  As she emerged from the room with what used to be her favorite pair of slippers, Mowgli jetted under the sofa couch like greased lightning.  This wasn’t the first time he ate something he wasn’t supposed to, and it wouldn’t be his last.

He was the cutest kitten in the litter.  His wide jade green eyes, black and grey stripes like a tiger were irresistible to Moira.  He looked right into her eyes and she knew she wouldn’t leave the shelter without him.  Even Jill was happy to meet their new roommate at first but his cuteness would rub off with every bite.

One night the girls were having a birthday party for Jill and all of their friends came over to celebrate.  Moira and Jill spent hours preparing food for their guests.  They made all of Jill’s favorite foods; a three layer chocolate Oreo cookie cake, pigs in a blanket, chicken wings, quesadillas and chicken parmesan.  It was going to be a feast.

         Mowgli watched from his favorite spot in the kitchen window surveying the dishes they prepared.  He and Jill had similar taste in food.  All of a sudden everyone was gone and he was alone in a room full of treats.  He licked his chops, looking around the room for the girls.  Where had they gone?  He licked his chops for a second time and his stomach took over.  Before he knew it he was under the couch again with a stomachache.

When the girls came out from their rooms dressed for the party they found that the kitchen looked very different from the one they had left.  Bits and pieces of each dish were sprinkled with crumbs.  Everything they cooked for the feast was gone.  The only remains were the wax candles from the birthday cake.

“MOWGLI!” Moira screamed at the top of her lungs as she moved right for his spot under the couch.  She stretched her arm as far as it could reach into the darkness under the couch until she felt his fuzz.

All of a sudden, Mowgli was getting pulled out by his left paw.  Normally Mowgli would have fought back but the rumbling pain in his stomach was crippling his ability to move.  He was ripped from his hiding spot and thrown in the hall closet.

Mowgli knew he shouldn’t have eaten the dinner but his stomach had taken over his ability to think clearly.  He could hear the girls arguing and trying to come up with a plan for the party since they had no food for their guests.  After a while he could hear the sound of visitors.  He longed to join the celebration but knew that he wasn’t going to be welcome.  He waited in the closet until the next morning.

He emerged from the closet hungry again. This time he found himself standing beside Jill as she scanned the refrigerator for breakfast items.  On the bottom shelf sat one of his favorites...leftovers.  He leaned into the door to get a closer look and….SLAM.  

Darkness.  He looked around and could barely see the plate he had his nose on seconds earlier.  Mowgli sniffed around for the leftover macaroni and cheese casserole and began feasting.  Not quite satisfied, he hopped over to the condiments on the shelf above.  It wasn’t long till he had eaten everything of value within his reach.  His eyes began to droop as the fullness in his belly and the damp cold of the refrigerator forced him into a deep sleep.

“Mowgli?  Mowgli?” Moira called.  “Where are you little guy?”  Checking under the bed, on top of the cabinets, under the couch.  He was nowhere to be found.  Jill got home and a search party commenced.  All of their friends from the birthday party were making flyers, calling neighbors, contacting veterinary clinics, and walking the streets with flashlights calling his name.  An entire day had passed since Jill had seen him that morning before breakfast.  Where could he be?

Finally, when all of their friends had left exhausted and hopeless the girls plopped on the couch with a sigh.  Moira turned to Jill and said, “I know I was mad when he ruined the party but I would give him all the food in the world if he would just come home.”  Tears of guilt welled up in her eyes.  Yesterday she had yelled at him and thrown him in a closet. “I miss the little stinker.”  “Me too,” Jill replied.  She sulked over to the refrigerator to get a glass of milk. As she opened the door she squealed as Mowgli calmly walked out of the refrigerator and rubbed his nose on her legs.  Jill looked over from the couch, “That little stinker!”   

Sister and Brother Author Children's Story Page

Short Stories by UICRC Student Authors

The Great Cake Debacle

by Dana Gottlieb

“The party starts at 6:00,” Ned said to Sally. “Don’t be late.  We want to make sure everyone is already at my house before Lucy gets there.  

“Is everything ready?” asked Sally.

           “I think so!” said Ned.  “Everything except the cake, that is.”

Sally and Ned had been planning a surprise birthday party for their friend Lucy for over a month now.  They had sent out secret invitations to all of their friends, bought fancy decorations, and had arranged for an artist to come over and teach everyone how to paint. All that was left to do before the big day was to figure out who was going to make their cake.  Sally and Ned were just about to decide who should be responsible for the cake when someone interrupted them.

“Did somebody say party?”  Sally and Ned didn’t recognize the strange voice coming from a few feet away.  They turned around and saw a man they didn’t recognize coming toward them.  He wore a red t-shirt that said, “No Work” in big black letters and he had a mouse sitting on top of his head.  Sally and Ned stared at each other, unsure whether to reply or run away.

“I love parties!  I call baking the cake!  Lazy Man is right at your side!”  Before Sally and Ned could protest, the strange man was off and running.

What were they going to do now?  Was this man really going to bake a cake for their party?  They didn’t even know him.  Even if he did bake the cake, how would he know where to bring it?  Did they even want this stranger at their party?  Sally and Ned decided that they should still ask one of their friends to bake a cake for Lucy, just in case this “Lazy Man” guy never showed up.  

“Ava is an excellent baker,” said Sally.  “We should ask her to make the cake for Lucy’s party.”  Ava and Lucy had been friends since kindergarten.  There was no way she was going to let them down.  When Ned called Ava and told her their predicament, Ava was very sympathetic.  

“That sounds like a very weird afternoon in the park,” she said.  “Unfortunately I will be out of town the entire week.  My flight lands just before the party starts so I will be lucky if I even make it in time for the surprise.”

    Time for a new plan.  “Which of our other friends can we ask?” Ned wondered.  

    “How about we ask Will,” suggested Sally.  “He isn’t the best cook but even if he uses a boxed mix it will be better than nothing.”

    Ned called Will to ask him if he could bake a cake for Lucy’s surprise party.

    “What party?” asked Will.  

    Sally and Ned looked at each other, horrified.  

    Ned fumbled for the right words.  “Ummmmmmmmmmmm...  Well you see… We are ummmmm…”

Sally quickly grabbed the phone from Ned.  “We are having a surprise party for Lucy this Saturday at my house.  Six o’clock.  Didn’t you get the invitation I sent out?”

“Nooooo…” said Will, suspiciously.

“Oh, well it must have gotten lost in the mail,” Sally lied.  “Anyhow, we need someone to bake a cake for the party.  Long story.  Can you do it?  It doesn’t have to be anything fancy, just some cake with a bit of frosting on top.”

Will had only ever baked a cake once when he was a kid, and his mom did most of the work, but he really liked Sally so he agreed to do it.  Sally and Ned were relieved.  

“That was a close one,” said Ned.

“Yeah, you almost ruined everything,” said Sally.

Sally and Ned felt much better about their plans for Lucy’s surprise party.  Everything seemed to have come together very nicely.  They had their decorations, the artist had called to confirm the date, and now they finally had a cake.

On the day of the party Sally and Ned were so busy setting up that they did not see the fifteen missed calls from Will on each of their phones.  

When the guests started arriving Will was nowhere in sight.  By the time 5:30 rolled around, Sally and Ned were getting worried.  

“You can’t have a birthday party without cake.  Everybody knows that,”  Sally hissed.  She decided to call Will to make sure he was on his way.  That’s when she saw all the missed calls.  Sally froze.  Her face turned red, her palms got clammy, and she felt like she was burning up.  Just as she reached for her phone, the slammed open.  Will came  bursting through the door carrying what appeared to be the cake.  It was hard to tell however, because all Sally could see was a big glob of frosting on top of a plate.  

“I tried calling you!” gasped Will, clearly out of breath.  “I got here as fast as I could.  I think I read the recipe wrong because the batter looked like play dough, and then my oven was set too high so the cake burned, and then when I tried to put the frosting on it melted all over the place so I had to keep putting more on until it stuck.  But, um, here is the cake for Lucy,” he said, holding out the plate toward Sally.

Sally stormed off, too irate to say anything.  Ned rushed over to Will and grabbed the cake.  “Thanks buddy.  We really appreciate you doing this for us,” he mumbled as he ran off to go find Sally.  She was sitting in the kitchen fighting back tears.  

“What are we going to do?” she wailed.  “This whole party is ruined!”

“Well we are going to have to think of something quick, because it is almost 6:00.  We had better get all the guests in position so that we don’t also ruin the surprise.”

Sally and Ned walked back out into the main room and gathered the guests.  Everyone found a hiding spot while Ned turned off the lights.   Suddenly there was a knock on the door.

“Hello?  Ned?  Are you home?  I thought we were going to make dinner tonight,” called Lucy.

Ned ran toward the door and just as he opened it, Sally turned on the lights and all the guests jumped out from their hiding spots.  

“SURPRISE!!!!!!” they shouted.

Lucy was so shocked that she threw the package she was carrying straight up in the air.  It landed with a thud and a splat on the ground.  

“Oh no!” cried Lucy.  Everyone gathered around to see what had happened.  Lying on the floor in a huge, goopy mess, was the remains of a beautiful cake.  

“What was that?” asked Ned.  

“I brought a cake for dessert because you said we were cooking dinner,” replied Lucy, who was looking around the room, still not quite sure what was going on.

Sally and Ned looked at each other for a moment.  Sally cracked a smile first, and within seconds both she and Ned were hysterically laughing.  The rest of the guests looked around in confusion.

“I guess it just wasn’t meant to be,” said Ned, trying to suppress his laughter.  “Despite all our best efforts, I guess this party will just have to go on without any cake.”

    Lucy started laughing.  “You guys are really great friends,” she said.  “I appreciate all the effort you guys put into this party for me.  You all know how much I love cake, but I’m just so happy you all are here.”

    The rest of the evening all anyone could talk about was the great cake debacle.  At the end of the evening, as the number of guests was dwindling, Sally said to Ned, “Even though we ended up without a cake, I still think this party was a success.  Perhaps next time we should get that taken care of first?”

    “Absolutely!” agreed Ned.

The Unfortunate Truth: Macka’s Story

by Susan Preston

            She’s obsessed with me!  That’s the only way I can explain it.  I always catch her looking at me from across the room with this weird creepy look in her eyes.  Whenever I’m walking in the hallway with my best friend Susan, she’s always lurking behind.  When we laugh, she pretends to laugh.  I would say that she is just a loser without any friends, but the unfortunate truth is… she is friends with Susan!

            It all started about a month ago.  My family had just moved to the island; my father had been relocated for work yet again, and we were expected to just pick up and move at a moment’s notice.  Faced with yet another school of strangers staring down the new girl, I was surprised to find a friendly face my first day.  I was scanning the cafeteria looking for an empty table to eat my lunch when I met Susan.  She waved at me to come join her and it was instant friendship.  “Just a heads up, I only eat the cafeteria food when they have breadsticks,” she said to me and that was it.  From that moment on we were inseparable, except when she was hanging out with Maylo.

            I first met Maylo at Susan’s house.  Susan had invited me over to hang out after school.  She had also thought to extend the invitation to Maylo, a girl who can only be described as average: average height, average weight, average intelligence.  Her first words to me were a stimulating, “Hello.”  Not nearly as impressionable as Susan’s breadsticks comment.  “What could Susan see in this Maylo girl,” I wondered. 

            After that, I started to notice Maylo around school, peering at Susan and I from behind her locker, monitoring our conversations from the cafeteria line, and glaring at Susan and me as we walked home.  I tried to make things easy on Susan.  She should be allowed to associate with whomever she pleased.  There was just no way that I could be around her when she was hanging out with Maylo; it was a matter of safety. 

            So naturally when I came up with the brilliant idea to go to the movies one Friday afternoon, I asked Susan if it could be just the two of us.  “Come on, we need some best friend time and I know you’ve been dying to see the new Elvis movie,” I pleaded.  “I think Maylo mentioned wanting to go surfing, but she never said when… so I guess it’s ok.  I’ll meet you at the movie theater.” 

            “Over here Susan,” I called from the concession stand line.  As Susan made her way through the crowd, I noticed that her smile started to fade.  “What are they doing here?” she asked, nodding her head in Terra and Ano’s direction.  “Oh, I just happened to run into them and they’re going to see the same movie, so I thought we could all hang out.”  Susan looked unsure about this.  “But I told Maylo that it would just be you and I, and I… I … don’t want her to feel left out.”  “Well, she doesn’t need to know, and really it’s not our fault that Terra and Ano happened to be here.  Come on, Maylo doesn’t need to know.”  After some coaxing, Susan finally loosened up and even starting chatting and joking around.

            Around this same time, I started to get a weird feeling.  You know the feeling when you feel like someone is watching you.  I couldn’t shake it.  I scanned the entire lobby, no one.  Feeling a little silly, I followed the others into the theater.  We found seats in the perfect row, the first row of the upper level where we can put our feet up on the bars.  I was just settling into my seat, when that same feeling came back.  I looked around as people started filing into the theater and taking their seats, again no one.  “Hey Macka!  Earth to Macka!  You there?”

            “What?  Oh, yeah, sorry I just have a weird feeling, but I’m good, what’s up?”  The girls started giggling, clearly enjoying my confused state.  I was just getting ready to admit my feelings, when the dancing popcorn and sodas lit up the screen.  Never mind, it was probably nothing, except now this obnoxious kid behind me is kicking my seat.  As I turned around to address the kicking, something caught my eye.  There, two rows behind us, was Maylo!

            Quickly, I turned around.  “She didn’t see me,” I told myself.  But that explains why I was feeling watched.  I decided to keep my body turned partially in her direction so I could watch her every move, make sure she didn’t try to harm me.  I could barely focus on Elvis in his little beach outfit playing the guitar.

            As the movie came to an end there was movement!  Maylo got up and left the theater abruptly.  This was my chance to confront her.  Let her know that I saw her stalking me, and call her out on it.  “Gotta pee,” I whispered to Susan and fled the theater after Maylo.

            I ran through the crowd of people and spotted Maylo in the distance, throwing away her popcorn.  Out of breath, I got to the garbage can in time and made eye contact with Maylo.  She looked surprised and a little sheepish.  I was just getting ready to hurl an insult her way, when Susan came up behind me.

            Oh, great, stay positive or fake, same thing.  “Hey Maylo,” I said, forcing a smile.  I was still catching my breath and taking control over this rush of emotions, when I heard Susan inviting my stalker to come over to her house.  Without knowing it, my head just started shaking no.

            Susan and Maylo stared at me, obviously waiting for an explanation to my vigorous head shaking.  I was trying to come up with a good excuse, when I heard someone behind me let out a loud shriek, before I could turn to see the commotion, I felt Maylo grab my arms and shove me out of the way.  And that’s when I saw it: a shower of Coca Cola raining down on Maylo’s average outfit. 

            That could have been my brand new WHITE sundress!  Then a second realization popped into my head: Maylo just saved my life!  Well, my clothes anyways.

            And that’s how it happened.  I became friends with my stalker.

Échappé 

by Grace Pigozzi

My story begins with a commitment to friends; a debt come due in the social contract, one that could be easily paid in the cozy, half-empty matinee. Cecilia and I sat in the theater, smiling at the chatter of little ballerinas as they watched their heroes step through the wardrobe into the winter kingdom.

At intermission, I slipped into the lobby, surprised to find it fairly empty. I glanced at my car in the overfull lot, and out of nowhere, was greeted with a hug from an old friend. She returned with me to my seat to laugh with Cecilia, to talk of daughters, and share a joke of bonfires. Once this had been Cecilia's milieu, but competing interests and abilities had taken her far from ballet. Although she is no longer close with them, she still takes dance classes with the same girls, and we both feel obligated to support them and see their beautiful productions--from the velvet seats of the audience.

As the final curtain fell, we were out of the auditorium, coats on, and effortlessly outside.  Cecilia walked quickly, urging me along. With a glance behind us  to the door, she broke into a run, scampered up the ramp, and then across the aisle to the car.

The fresh night air was intoxicating. I filled my lungs slowly as I jogged. I acquiesced to the irresistible urge to spit the gum I'd been chewing. I watched it arc and land deep in the bushes. I felt liberated. Satisfied.

“Run!” Cecilia yelled with a wave of her arm. She smiled nervously at my wobbling gait in too-big, high-heeled shoes.

A chill breeze swept swiftly off the lake. I shuddered. Behind us, I finally saw what she'd seen, the man who ran towards us, closing the space between.

Sprinting the stairs, the ballet master appeared as he had in countless, fragmented dreams. Huge eyes, ferocious, silent. His wordless expression was masked by the darkness. I leapt into the car, safe. With a glance into the mirror as I started the engine, I laughed at my luck and hair blown wild in the cold wind. 

I was backing out when he barreled up to us, nearly launching himself onto the hood of the car. Cecilia and I gasped in unison to see him gracefully, suddenly stop mid-air, plant his feet on the asphalt, press his palms together, and bow.

Trembling, I drove away, watching him in the rearview mirror while he calmly walked back to his car.

Only later, alone, did I realize that it suits me to have a secret. It gives me power over him.