HIGH SCHOOL CREATIVE WRITING WINNERS - 2013
Dani Tamura, Heritage High School, Grade 10
The Cobweb (Category Winner )
Keiziah Pasule, Heritage High School, Grade 9, The Ransom Note
Gautam Ramesh, Monte Vista High School, Grade 11, An Apology
Sandra Sajeev, Dougherty Valley High, Grade 9, One Last Chance
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The Cobweb (Category Winner )
Dani Tamura
The room was silent.
The tan walls glared at Ramon, who was sitting under a harsh lamp. To his right, a green striped bedspread covered an otherwise barren mattress and a sticker-covered bed frame. To his left, books piled in what seemed to be a very meticulous order made Ramon think his sister stole a library.
Curious to see if the library barcodes were still on the books, he stood up and walked towards the shelf. Just as his stubby fingers were about to grab the spine of a
particularly thick hardcover, he heard who he'd been waiting for.
"Get out of my room."
Ramon spun slowly, offering his fuming sister a small grin in the hopes that she was relaxed. But her eyes held an anger that he knew he deserved. "Hey, sis," he said meekly, waving one of his hands.
"Step away from the books," his sister said in a quiet voice, closing the door as she fully stepped into the tan room. With light hair and light eyes, people often said she bore resemblance to an angel. However, when Ramon looked at her in that moment, all he could think was that no angel could ever look that furious.
Ramon put his hands in the air, backing away to the lamp once again. His sister stalked past him, inspecting the books, which he never had the chance to touch, with a frantic urge. He stuck his hands in his pockets and looked directly across from him,
into the closet. Her clothes were color coded.
"Don't get any funny ideas." His sister had her stubby hands on her hips, her eyes zoned in on Ramon, like a hawk eyeing its prey. Her words were confident, but her legs shook as she eyed her older brother.
Ramon stepped forward and held his arms out to talk to his sister, Gemma, but she
side-stepped him, effectively blocking her closet. Without breaking eye contact, Gemma closed the closet door behind her, shielding the organized rainbow from the skyscraper boy in front of her.
"I'm sorry, Gem," Ramon said, slouching and ducking his head, running a hand through his hair. With dark hair and dark eyes, Ramon was the demon to Gemma's angel, for more than one reason.
Gemma stood up straighter, clenching her jaw to keep it from quivering. "Sorry for what? Messing up my closet? Giving me a panic attack? Sending me to a hospital?"
"I didn't know." Ramon shoved his hands back in his pockets. The tension in the air was thicker than the blood that ran through their veins, binding them together as brother and sister forevermore.
A loud noise filled the room as Gemma banged herself against the closet, leaning against it. For the first time since she entered the room, she let go of her rigid posture. Instead of the plank of wood she was before, she became a piece of paper, flighty and loose in the wind.
"You ruined my closet."
"I just messed up the color coding."
"That gave me a panic attack."
"I didn't know it meant so much."
"I had to go to the hospital."
"I didn't think the panic attack was serious."
The siblings had locked eyes, engaging in a silent battle, and it was Ramon who first waved his white flag. Gemma lifted her head up, tongue sharp as she prepared her final crack of the whip.
"You made me miss my play."
"I didn't know."
"It was opening night."
"I didn't know."
"They needed me there."
"I didn't know, okay?" Ramon burst, throwing his arms in the air and standing
straight, causing himself to tower over Gemma, who now looked like a gerbil
caught in the corner of her cage. He'd only wanted to make things better, but
Gemma's constant pushing had finally sent him over the edge. "You started this,
and you know it. You ruined my relationship and just when I try to make things
even you go to the hospital and tip the scales again."
Gemma blinked, her pale eyes becoming fuzzy as she started to cry.
Ramon didn't notice. "I forgave you for making my girlfriend break up with me but you can't forgive me? I was just trying to mess with you." His chest heaved up and down as he glared at his sister, finally letting the cat out of the bag.
But instead of feeling relieved at his verbal revenge, he felt guilty as he saw his baby
sister wipe tears away from her flushed face, the red a stark contrast from her
normally pale skin. She closed her eyes for a moment, a moment in which Ramon
had no idea what to say nor do.
"I'm sorry," Gemma said, her voice quiet and sweet, very much like the voice one would expect an angel to have.
Ramon didn't reply. The two teens looked at each other, the only sound in the room Gemma's occasional sniffles and the far away barking of the family dog. Finally, Ramon broke the silence.
"I can't forget what you did."
"Neither can I," Gemma said, not missing a beat.
There was another silence, in which both wrongdoers mulled over how to fix things. Ramon stared at a poster of Gemma's idol, wondering what he would do in Ramon's situation. Gemma fixated on an old cobweb in the corner of her ceiling, marveling at how it had obviously been hurt, neglected, and mistreated, yet still clung to the wall.
Because in the end, a web is a web.
"Can you forgive me?" Gemma asked, looking at Ramon from under her barely visible
eyelashes.
"I can't forget."
"Forgiving doesn't have to mean forgetting. It just has to mean moving on," Gemma said, glancing at the cobweb in the corner of her room. Ramon followed her gaze and, understanding exactly what she meant, looked back down and grinned.
The two siblings embraced each other.
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The Ransom Note
Keiziah Pasule
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An Apology
Gautam Ramesh
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One Last Chance
Sandra Sajeev
Dear Boy In the Playground,
I remember the first time I met you in first grade. You were in the playground making another joke while running around with your friends. I, being the shy little girl I was, sat near the big oak tree engrossed in a book. Out of the bloom you walked over to me. For a minute I thought this could have been the start of a great and wonderful friendship, but your immaturity really let me down. I’ll tell you straight up, you’re the reason I am a sarcastic little jerk. Yet, my life felt incomplete without your routine rudeness. It felt horrible but I still liked you and wanted to be your friend. I guess I didn’t know any better.
One day your mom brought you over to my house, and you couldn’t imagine how excited I was. You became a new person now that you didn’t have anyone to impress. You were pushing me on the swing set in the backyard until you saw your friend. Next thing I know I was on the ground with a bloody knee, tears rushing down my eyes. A flash of fear went through your face as you helped me to my mom. The way you comforted and apologized profusely to me made me forgive you for everything. For a while it seemed as if I had forgotten the whole event, but who knew how the heart worked.
In high school we had all the same classes but you stopped paying any attention to me. I was fine with it because I thought I found my place in this world. I was still a little shy but I felt more confident about myself.
I wasn’t the chubby little girl you knew in elementary school. Then, your girlfriend broke up with you and you started teasing me again. My friends said it was flirting but I knew better. You persisted with your little manipulative games and eventually I fell for it and you. Little did I know you would break my heart into a million parts.
I was walking to your house on your birthday, your present ready in my pocket. The snow was slowly drifting down and I was excited to see your reaction. As I turned the corner to see your house I saw you reconciled with your old girlfriend. So many mixed emotions of hate, rejection, love, and betrayal flooded throughout me. Your present was now on the middle of the sidewalk in glass shreds just like my heart. I ran with tears flowing yet again, but you didn’t run after me. Not even an apology came. Part of me knew you would hurt me again but another wasn’t ready for the impact.
A few years later we met in Paris on a college exchange program. I was hostile and cold but you were trying to make amends for what you did. I had adequately learned the art of sarcasm and I remember how it always brought a smile to your face. You were still the same old silly boy from elementary school. Revenge was the first thing I thought of when I saw you in Paris. I needed you to feel the emotional rollercoaster you sent me through in high school. It was the perfect chance and what better place than in the city of love itself. This is probably the part where I tell you that I wasn’t going to hurt you and be the better person. You underestimate my kindness. I was cruel to you in the same magnitude of what you did to me.
It still hurts to think about the day you showed up at my door with crimson red roses. Though I wasn’t the one getting hurt, it hurt me to hurt you if that makes any sense at all. I often wonder if you ever felt that way with
me. You took me to a little garden restaurant in one of the places hidden from tourists in France. The sun had just set and the moment felt perfect. For a second I had forgotten my mission to get revenge on you. Then as you declared your undying love for me, I rejected you hard. Your eyes had so much pain I wanted to take it back, every single word. However, I conjured up the worst possible words to describe you. I pled for your forgiveness at the end of the trip and after a long while you did. I even set you up with my best friend despite the fact it hurt. My pride and need for revenge got in the way and for that I am so sorry.
Years later, I still haven’t gotten over you. The hardest part about forgiving you was forgiving myself. Forgiving myself for sinking so low and getting revenge on you. Forgiving myself for being stupid and not asking you to
stay. In the end I hurt myself more than you ever could. When we met after college I was surprised at how different you were yet that small part of me was still weary. Another part was guilty for my actions. After a while I realized the old you was completely gone and replaced with someone who was funny, smart, loyal, and
honest. Both of us don’t want to be hurt again, especially by the same person but old feelings are arising. I have long forgiven you but I am never going to forget what you did, Boy In the Playground, but you just might have a chance. I hope I haven’t lost mine.
Love,
The Girl Under the Oak Tree
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Dear Boy In the Playground,
I remember the first time I met you in first grade. You were in the playground making another joke while running around with your friends. I, being the shy little girl I was, sat near the big oak tree engrossed in a book. Out of the bloom you walked over to me. For a minute I thought this could have been the start of a great and wonderful friendship, but your immaturity really let me down. I’ll tell you straight up, you’re the reason I am a sarcastic little jerk. Yet, my life felt incomplete without your routine rudeness. It felt horrible but I still liked you and wanted to be your friend. I guess I didn’t know any better.
One day your mom brought you over to my house, and you couldn’t imagine how excited I was. You became a new person now that you didn’t have anyone to impress. You were pushing me on the swing set in the backyard until you saw your friend. Next thing I know I was on the ground with a bloody knee, tears rushing down my eyes. A flash of fear went through your face as you helped me to my mom. The way you comforted and apologized profusely to me made me forgive you for everything. For a while it seemed as if I had forgotten the whole event, but who knew how the heart worked.
In high school we had all the same classes but you stopped paying any attention to me. I was fine with it because I thought I found my place in this world. I was still a little shy but I felt more confident about myself.
I wasn’t the chubby little girl you knew in elementary school. Then, your girlfriend broke up with you and you started teasing me again. My friends said it was flirting but I knew better. You persisted with your little manipulative games and eventually I fell for it and you. Little did I know you would break my heart into a million parts.
I was walking to your house on your birthday, your present ready in my pocket. The snow was slowly drifting down and I was excited to see your reaction. As I turned the corner to see your house I saw you reconciled with your old girlfriend. So many mixed emotions of hate, rejection, love, and betrayal flooded throughout me. Your present was now on the middle of the sidewalk in glass shreds just like my heart. I ran with tears flowing yet again, but you didn’t run after me. Not even an apology came. Part of me knew you would hurt me again but another wasn’t ready for the impact.
A few years later we met in Paris on a college exchange program. I was hostile and cold but you were trying to make amends for what you did. I had adequately learned the art of sarcasm and I remember how it always brought a smile to your face. You were still the same old silly boy from elementary school. Revenge was the first thing I thought of when I saw you in Paris. I needed you to feel the emotional rollercoaster you sent me through in high school. It was the perfect chance and what better place than in the city of love itself. This is probably the part where I tell you that I wasn’t going to hurt you and be the better person. You underestimate my kindness. I was cruel to you in the same magnitude of what you did to me.
It still hurts to think about the day you showed up at my door with crimson red roses. Though I wasn’t the one getting hurt, it hurt me to hurt you if that makes any sense at all. I often wonder if you ever felt that way with
me. You took me to a little garden restaurant in one of the places hidden from tourists in France. The sun had just set and the moment felt perfect. For a second I had forgotten my mission to get revenge on you. Then as you declared your undying love for me, I rejected you hard. Your eyes had so much pain I wanted to take it back, every single word. However, I conjured up the worst possible words to describe you. I pled for your forgiveness at the end of the trip and after a long while you did. I even set you up with my best friend despite the fact it hurt. My pride and need for revenge got in the way and for that I am so sorry.
Years later, I still haven’t gotten over you. The hardest part about forgiving you was forgiving myself. Forgiving myself for sinking so low and getting revenge on you. Forgiving myself for being stupid and not asking you to
stay. In the end I hurt myself more than you ever could. When we met after college I was surprised at how different you were yet that small part of me was still weary. Another part was guilty for my actions. After a while I realized the old you was completely gone and replaced with someone who was funny, smart, loyal, and
honest. Both of us don’t want to be hurt again, especially by the same person but old feelings are arising. I have long forgiven you but I am never going to forget what you did, Boy In the Playground, but you just might have a chance. I hope I haven’t lost mine.
Love,
The Girl Under the Oak Tree
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