Evaluna D, 9th - Jerusalem
The sea, the sky and the green grass. Maeve breathed it in, all of it. Standing on a rolling green hill, the craggly grass digging into her heels as the wind blows the blades to and fro. The sky, vibrant and blue as ever with a few fluffy white clouds drifting with the passing of time. And most of all, she breathed in the sight of the sea. The rough, rolling waves, the cold blue gray kind, that at first glance, seem menacing, but if you knew the waves like Maeve did, if you knew how they built up gathering speed before crashing down over itself, curling and foaming you would find a home in them. If you had spent your short eleven years twisting and ducking through those waves, you would never want to see them go. Maeve loved the sea, she loved her home, and she loved her country. The great Ireland, the best place and only home Maeve had ever known. She closed her eyes and breathed in the salty, fresh smell of the ocean. She hoped it would block everything out, the painful hunger in her stomach, the desperate looks on her parents faces, and most of all, she tried to block out the fear. And there were so many things to be afraid of. Never seeing the rolling hills again, never hearing her mothers gentle voice, leaving her home behind to wander the world in search of belonging. But she knew she couldn’t show her fear, because she was one of the lucky ones. She tried to be grateful, as she should be.

There was nothing to be jealous of, most of those who stayed would slowly wither from the lack of food, many would die. She could see the desperation on the faces of her neighbors, friends and parents. At night, her mother would hold her tight and tell her that soon, so soon everything would be normal. The sky would be blue, and once again, people would laugh. Maeve tried to believe her, she did, because she should but she knew that she could never see her home the same way again. Not after you’d seen hundreds and hundreds of people slowly dying, worn to the bone, begging for food or help while people simply walked by. Not after you’d walked by piles of bodies, disease ridden and starved, wondering if you were next. And not after you’d felt hunger, burning tirelessly away in your stomach while crates and crates of rotting potatoes lay right outside your door. After that, how could your country still be your beautiful, gorgeous home you adored? Maeve looked over the hillside, the one she knew so well. She tried to hold onto the image, lock it in her memory. She closed her eyes and tried to take in her childhood, even though she felt as if it had deserted her. She knew she must go, they would be waiting on the side of the road. Waiting to take her away. Maeve took one last, deep breath, concentrating on the freshness of the air with its salty scent, the smell of home, trying not to think that this would be one of the last she breathed in her homeland. As the last wisp of air left her lungs, Maeve turned and ran from the hillside. She ran to leave it all behind her, she ran to forget it she ran so she didn’t have to say goodbye, over and over again.

Maybe, if she ran quick enough, she could forget she ever left. When she reached the road, she saw them, standing close, hands tightly grasped for comfort. Maeve approached them quietly. They had hardly spoken a word all day, her parents, no one knew what to say. They broke apart when they saw her, but Maeve stepped between them and took one of their hands in either of hers. She needed them to be close, as close as they could be till they were miles, oceans apart. She knew she couldn’t need them, if she did, she wouldn’t survive, but while they were here, she would be as close to them as possible. The trio made their way in silence down the deserted road, clinging on to each other. Maeve tried not to be scared, but fear was the only thing she had felt for years, she couldn’t remember how to not be scared. But the port was approaching, her fate coming closer with every step, and her grip on her parents hands became stronger with every second. Maeve pushed away the panicked thoughts threatening to push themselves into her mind. This was it, the end. Everything from here was unknown, her life was unknown. Her dreams for the future were inadequate because they didn’t apply to where she was going. She would have to dream new dreams, create new hopes and expectations, view the world from a different perspective.

On her left, her mother slowed to a stop. They were here, at the port. A giant, looming ship stood before them, far more threatening than it was hopeful. Crowds of people around them, relatives of departing citizens crying, hugging, sometimes rejoicing. Her mother put her arms around her and pulled Maeve close. Her embrace was comforting, natural, the way she had held her on those long, cold, hungry nights. It makes her feel safe, protected. She released Maeve and then crouched down and looked into her eyes. 
“Maeve, I want you to know that this place is always here for you, it’s your home. I want you to have a good life, to follow your dreams, have all the opportunities you can’t have here. This is the best option, I know you’re scared, that’s good, and I know you might hate me for this, but you’ll see one day why I’m choosing this for you, I love you.” 
“I don’t hate you, at all.” Maeve said quietly, she needed her to know that. Maeve’s mother smiled, a teary, relieved smile.
“This part of your life is going to be hard Maeve, you might be scared and alone sometimes, but don’t you give up, I taught you how to be brave. I know you’re capable of this.”
“All passengers taking the 126 aboard the Sagamore, please begin to embark the ship.”An announcer called out. Maeve’s body went rigid with fear. Her father now pulled her into a tight embrace.
“I love you, we believe in you.''Maeve gripped him tight, she couldn’t let go. “This isn't the last time, if you know that and believe that then it will become true. You have to let everything go now, don’t forget it but don’t let it hold you back.” But Maeve wasn’t ready to let go, and she had never thought she would have to be. And now she had to be, she could see it in her parents eyes, they needed to believe she could do this and be brave as much as she did. For them she stood up straight, for them she didn’t cry, for them, she pushed the shaking fear from her voice as she spoke. 
“I’ll come back, some day, but until then, this place, my home will be with me wherever I go, in whatever I do I’ll remember these hills and your advice. I’ll be strong, like you taught me, I know I will be.” 

“Once again! All passengers taking the 126 aboard the Sagamore, please board promptly.” Maeve’s mother and father pulled her into one last, tearful embrace. When they let her go, she looked deep into their eyes, one last time, so that she would never forget their comforting sight. Maeve turned and walked towards the boarding dock, hundreds of people pushing with her. She was the shortest head in hundreds of adults and in seconds, her parents were lost in the sea of bodies. Maeve was alone, even among the crowds, she was completely by herself in the world. It suffocated her, the tears threatening to take hold, her confidence and boldness waning by the second. She needed to see them, one last time. Once aboard the gigantic ship, Maeve found the closest staircase and sprinted up several flights of stairs. She emerged at a balcony, people leaning off the edge to wave goodbye to their loved ones as the boat began to pull away. Maeve wove herself through the people, pushing and maneuvering till she was at the edge. For a second, all she saw was the mass of people, but then she saw them, waving, crying, holding hands. Maeve pushed herself against the side of the boat. She waved, a symbol of goodbye that held so much. It symbolized every goodbye she was supposed to have with them, all the time she should’ve been given that would instead be replaced with unknown, it symbolized her love, her sorrow, her fear. It was everything that should have been, maybe still could. It was possibility, the unknown. It was a little girl, saying goodbye to the life, the people, and the country she loved.

Evvi, 10th - Vermont
This morning I watched,
as someone I love broke their heart.

Over and over,
I watched them wander through the secret streets of Paris,
clumsily holding their heart in their hands.

It wasn't their fault, you see,
hands moistened with tears of sadness,
a hint of relief hidden within,
the tension of deep emotion lingers in the air.

This morning I watched,
as someone I love let their heart fall,
onto the unforgiving cobblestone sidewalk.

The streets filled with a sea of red silk,
and golden sparkles glistened like forgotten coins,
while dreams shattered into shimmering shards.

As the sun casts its shadows, veiling the city,
the heart lays exposed and vulnerable,
its beats echoing softly through the city's veins.

I watched as strangers pass by,
oblivious to the delicate fragments of the lost soul,
each glistening shard as a testament to love's fragility.

If you listen closely,
the Seine in the distance whispers secrets,
consoling the fallen heart,
promising that time will mend its cracks.

Yet in that moment, 
as heart met stone,
the glass of quiet resilience shattered,
forming a mosaic of the heart's journey.​

M.Miesse, 10th - Washington D.C.
Can we go back?
Just weeks ago your smile would light up a room
I never thought it could or would, disappear so soon
Now that you're gone I’ve gone back to my cocoon 
But with each passing moment I feel what we had is doomed
I miss you every day
As my emotions go astray
I wish I never met you cause you made me feel this way
I’m not used to this feeling
I’m used to feeling strong 
But then you came and then you went
Now all my strength is gone
I don’t know what I did, Maybe it was nothing 
Sometimes people drift away but it’s normally not this sudden
You’ve forced me to break down, like a car missing a fuse
But with all this anguish, comes the thought, maybe I’m being used.​

Sam, 10th - Oakland, CA
As most of us know by now, our school is haunted. Oakland high school has been around nearly 2 centuries, being established in 1869 and having a rich history of famous individuals including jack london and damien lillard, as well as many others. Our school also used to host an ROTC and firing range inside, although that program stopped a while ago. Many people know these things, but what most do not know is what is hiding under our historic campus, which I discovered with a group of friends when we unwittingly stumbled upon a secret basement underneath our school.
​
To start at the beginning of our story, we need to go back several weeks to when me and a group of my friends stayed after school and walked around to explore the empty halls, what we ended up coming across was an unfamiliar door, tucked away from the halls and nestled between an electricity room and a janitor's closet. We couldn't open it by ourselves, since it had a big lock on the door. We decided to come back later with bolt cutters to see if we could explore further. We planned to come back the next day, but unfortunately I was headed on a trip so we couldn't do it then, so we resolved to explore when I got back. Finally, two weeks later I was back from my trip and we were all prepared to explore, we met up outside the door and looked over the supplies we had brought; flashlights to see incase the lights were out, food for if we got hungry, disposable cameras to capture pictures to document what we find, big bolt cutters to get rid of any locks in our way. We were prepared to go in. We cut the lock…

When we opened the door it was obvious no one had been down there in a long time, it was pitch black dark except the wooden rickety stairs leading down, of which we could only see the first few steps leading down. What we could sense however, was this smell that seemed to come up from this basement, it shocked our noses with the smell of stale air. We decided to wait a few minutes before going down to let new air circulate and to be safe to breathe again. When we decided it had been enough time (around 10 minutes later), we turned on our flashlights and headed down the stairs, staying close together and holding the shoulder of the person in front of us. Our flashlights cut like knives into the pitch black, illuminating small circles of light that expanded out. From what we could see from the dim light of our flashlights the stairs lead into a massive room that didn't contain much of anything, it looked like it was just left abandoned and empty. At the bottom of the stairs I could see a small box with a switch that I hoped would control the lights so we could save flashlight batteries, it worked! As our eyes adjusted, my friend spotted a door that was slightly ajar on the far side of the room, opposite the stairs. 

We all decided we would check it out together, to keep us all safe as a group. When we got to the door we quickly pulled it wide open and peeked our heads through. What we saw gave me and all of my friends an uneasy feeling. It looked like someone lives down here, or did. We saw a sleeping bag, along with cans of food and water bottles, thrown askew without care. Me and my friends looked at each other and decided without saying a word we were going to leave quickly and quietly. Before we did though, I snapped a few quick pictures to send to the police so they could investigate what we found. We all ran out and slammed the door behind us, bolting it shut from the outside. We left the school and went home, we were all shocked and freaked out by what we had seen.

Marisol, 10th - Oakland, CA
About the Author: Marisol is a 16 year old girl. She attends Oakland high school. She is known as a person who is always smiling and laughing. She has a big goal to become a pediatric nurse.

Me and my family were getting ready to go to my cousins house. Once we got there, I went into the room where my cousins were at and we started hanging out, talking about chisme, boys, and we made tiktoks. On this one day, my cousin told me:
“Dude, ask your parents if you can go to La Palma with us.” 
“You ask them because then that way they would be like oh she wants her to go,” I replied.
We walked outside the room and the parents were already talking about it.  How they wanted us to go to La Palma to visit our grandparents. La Palma Michoacan, is a place in Mexico where my parents grew up, It's a small village you could say, everyone knows eachother, its safe, there are many parties, its a very happy place. 
I guess my aunt and uncle told my parents that they could take me and my sister to La Palma, that a few days later they made an appointment in Alameda to get our passports. Later on in the month we went to the great mall so we could get clothes, we also went to Ross and we got our suitcases, which was starting to make it feel so real. I was so excited but so scared.  My aunt called my dad and said:
“Ya nos vamos para México el viernes” (“We're gonna leave for Mexico on Friday”). 
After they finished their conversation, Me and my sister (Jennifer) had our conversation. 
“Lets go start packing our stuff, so we dont have to later.” I stated
“Okay lets go, what should we pack.” She replied while looking at her closet. 
“I dont know, lets check the temperature” I said…
“Im done packing are you almost done?” I stated
“Yes im almost done, what did you pack?” She replied…
 It was during the summer when we left so we just waited patiently for two days. 
The day of, we all got up at around 5:30 to drive to San Francisco airport for our flight. My parents were able to accompany us for a bit but later had to leave. I had mixed emotions. I was sad, happy, excited, nervous, and scared because I'm scared of heights and roller coasters. We went through security, and soon enough entered this big shiny plane. My cousin Jaqueline sat in the seat next to the window. I sat in the  middle and my aunt sat in the last seat. My sister sat with my other cousins and my uncle. Approximately an hour after we boarded the plane the flight attendant came to us and said:
“Would you guys like anything to eat?” 
“Yes please, can we have two maruchanes?” we replied. 
She came back and we ate the food and we were soon arriving at La Palma, Michoacan. Once we landed we got our bags and we got on a bus. After the bus we saw two of my uncles who were there to pick us up and take us to mi Teresa’s house. I remember sleeping in the car and waking up to tearing eyes. 
I was sleeping but I was crying and the reason was because I was sad that I had left my parents. First thing I noticed when we were driving was the trees they looked so bright and beautiful like summer at its finest. When we got to my grandma's house I noticed her house and I noticed another house that had Christmas lights on the window. My grandma had a little table for La Virgen Maria. The first day that I arrived I also got a migraine so I wasn't able to enjoy the first day. I will say it was very windy that day at night. 
A few days passed and I had now explored more of la palma. I visited la plaza. It was so nice and so spacious. It had its days where it was loud and it was quiet, the temperature was just right. The day came where they took us to meet my other grandparents which are my moms, dad and mom. I was so excited to meet them, we got there,  My grandpa hugged me tight and said..
 “Hola princesa” 
We said hi to my grandma. And after a while we left back to my other grandparents. I would go back and forth a lot so I could see my moms side too. One day I went with my cousins and my sister. My uncle had a motorcycle and he said. 
“Se quieren subir a la moto ( do yall wanna get on the motorcycle)”
“Si pero no vaya rápido porque me da miedo ( y es but don't go fast cause I get scared)” I said. While I was there I also got on a horse for the first time.
“Les voy a traer el caballo para que se suban ( i'ma bring all the horse so you guys can get on it)” dijo mi tío José. That was my first going to Mexico.

Maia, 10th - Oakland, CA
The sound of water relaxing my body 
Feeling each bone and tendon 
Becoming less tense 

Hearing the wave go back and forth from the sand 
And washing back into the ocean
Like a slinky 
Going up 
And Down 

So clear that you can see yourself flawlessly  
Looking head on into a mirror 
At your reflection 

The water
Smelling so fresh and clean
With just the right amount of saltiness

The breeze just right 
My curls flowing with the wind 
Enough to cool me off 

The warm sun beaming on my skin 
Like the sun giving me a passionate hug 

Warming up the water just a little bit 
Making it just right for the perfect summer dip 

Closing my eyes seeing a dark orange light through my eyelids 
Creating peace of mind 

I ask myself 
Why I love the sound of water 
Why am I so relaxed 
Why is my attraction to this place so deep? 

But the ocean puts my mind in a place 
Where no one can reach 
Sometimes you need a break 
A peace of mind​

Khloe, 10th - Oakland, CA
My father takes on multiple roles: a loving husband, dad, son, uncle, and a dedicated city worker putting in significant effort no matter the task. Deciphering him? It's a fine task. Born and raised in Vietnam, he made the decision to move here with his family, parents, and eight siblings, likely to escape the war. In my earlier years, I lacked insight into our roots and his personal history. Our narrative consisted only of us, devoid of stories about dogs, chilly nights, damp soil, or covert maneuvers in the bushes. I never heard about the beams from flashlights or the swift journey to the boat. He never shared that he left it all behind, including his favorite coat.

"Gong do di Jungman, I don’t want you to lose it.” That's his motto. Speaking from a wealth of experience, akin to when he lost his command over Vietnamese. He endeavors to instill in me the importance of speaking Cantonese, urging me to embrace my mother tongue. I grasped it during my youth—listening and understanding. But now? It’s like conversing in code—challenging to articulate, comprehend, respond to, or even think clearly. Everything I once excelled at vanished. I'm attempting to relearn, to regain that fluency. All I wish for is to absorb it once more.

His recurring, signature, go-to line. His mantra. “I told you so.” Anticipating events is his forte. He'd always anticipate the worst; expect even. But, more often than not, it played out. "I told you so," he'd say. Over time, it may seem like a nag, but fundamentally, it has always served as a warning. He's known me for all my life. He knows the mistakes I’ll make. He senses an impending storm, though it's not just some parental cliche. I know it’s just him worrying and looking out for me. Though sometimes I wish he’d just let me be free.

"There's no point in buying it when we can make it at home." or "I can make it better." He's always worried about money. Times were tough when he was younger. New to the country, but most importantly, there wasn’t much money. Even though we’re financially stable now, the echoes of tougher times persist.

When I was younger, I always thought it was unfair that my dad was stricter than all the others. He’d unleash these long outbursts and never-ending lectures that always seemed to repeat themselves. Though these lectures were always meant as a lesson, I never knew his constant nagging and demand for my attention was always to teach me something. As I grew, I caught on. In his previous directions, he never meant them as a suggestion. Be more thankful. Ask, listen, cooperate. To look at the roof over my head and feel full as I’m being fed. Realizing that my father traded his youth for my future, even when faced with adversity - an unwavering pillar supporting my journey.​

StudentC, 10th - Oakland, CA
Peaking my small head through the crack in the door I see my mom. Bright blue top, frills surrounding  the bottom, legs tightly crossed as she stares at the page beneath her. My mother came from silent whispers and quiet homes, with a mother that passed away while bringing her into this world and a father who did the same soon after. Of foster homes and family members who made her feel less, who shut doors in her face and pushed her away. And yet you would never know that by looking at my mom, she speaks with words of kindness and love, full of nurture.

She stays late nights staring at books trying to learn them for others, and though she doesn't quite understand them all, language barrier and all, she still learns them for others. “You have to go to school” signs my mother. And even though annoyance creeps up my neck, and I want to tell her no, I don't. Because I know why she wants me to go. I needed to go because she couldn't. I need to go for her.
When I ask my mother what she wants, she stumbles on her words, confusion plastered on her face. Because when has she been asked that, when has her feelings been considered. How could they be considered when my mom feeds others before she eats, she lays down others before she can find rest, she puts the mask on other people before herself. She gives.

I stumble closely out of the door, hands by my side quiet as a mouse. Trying not to make a sound while I was walking slowly down the hall towards my mom,  “Dihan di ki?”  (Are you okay?) My mom sighs.
I trott up to her leg and looked up at her. Stress plastered across her face as she looked back down at me. Then I turn my head down to her paper and see questions upon questions. Presidents, dates, I didn't understand it then but I now know it was for her citizenship so she could stay here with me. I understood these questions! I knew what they meant, I could help her. My mom. I tilt my head and I tell her the answer. She smiles at me in the softest way.
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I think back to this moment often, sunlight through the blinds and her smiles. I remember how it felt, to help her, this strong woman, my role model. This woman who led me to be me. Who created and raised me the best way she could, even though she didn't have anyone to teach her how. Her essence is euphoric, to be around her, my mother saved me. In every way someone could be saved.