Mark? I am not Mark. She’s crazy. She’s
lost it.
That’s when I hear the sirens. I
turn around. Coach is as red as a tomato.
My parents are there and crying hysterically. My father is trying his best to hold
mom back by the waist.
My teammate Ryan comes
over. I flinch as he puts his hand on my
shoulder.
“I hate to say it, Mark,” he
says. “But I hope he stays dead, Mark. I
know you always defended him, but he
deserved it.”
“What do you mean?”
I can feel my heart pumping,
harder by the second, but I am alive and
breathing. I tear off my jersey, checking
for the number 23 on the back. My
number. But clearly printed on this one
is the number 15. Mark’s number.
I look across the field. I see
the paramedics lift someone into the
ambulance. His face is covered. The
sirens have been silenced.
One of the technicians hands
my coach a shredded jersey. On his back,
the number is clearly visible: 23.
HPAC YOUNG WRITERS REVIEW
sheryl APUNTE
11TH GRADE
FAR AWAY FROM HOME
Down here they have white picket fences
Have you ever seen a white picket fence,
Love?
They have a downtown so small
It’s like a walk from my house to yours
Maybe even less
Down here they smile and open doors
for one another
Not like in the city
Not like you
I saw a guy sit alone on a park bench
His neck stretched out
Head back
He soaked up the sun let the wind take
him far away
There was no phone to distract him or
crowds walking by disturbing his peace
I’d never seen that before
I’d never seen true bliss
Simplicity at its finest
All I had ever known was trains on
tracks
And light flashes on 42nd
Noises and crowds of people pushing
and pulling to get their way
STILL FIGURING IT OUT
He was beautiful and I wanted to sit
next to him and throw my head back too
Let the wind take me away
But I heard your voice
I heard the noise and the train tracks
and saw the flashing lights on 42nd
You always told me that people who
throw their head back and enjoy the sun
Those who take it slow in life are crazy
You never liked me around the grass, the
sun, and unpolluted open air
I was too free
You thought I’d leave you
I am
OKAY
Understand? I do not need help or pity
I’ve grown on my own
Just like a flower without a gardener to
help see it through
Maybe you’re right
Maybe those who take it slow are crazy
And maybe I don’t want to be sane
I am
still figuring things out.
I am
Still figuring it out
Fifteen years young but not naïve
I’ve felt things and seen things no one
should so feel or see
I am
a girl, a friend, sister, a daughter
I am everything in the middle because I
can never pick a side
I can see ten thousand different sides of
a story
6 TRAIN VOLUME III: 201 4–2015 | 31