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Haaris Khan, 17

Trapped I’m no carpenter, but I know when I’ve been screwed. And this royal screwing took place on a father-son bonding trip to a burger shop this summer. I have the habit of taking off my slippers while I’m outside. So while my dad parks the car and exits, I’m [...]

By | November 19th, 2014|0 Comments

Maxwell Yu, 17

Don't Cut the Back Is that short enough in the front? Yes, that’s short enough, now I can see without all that hair in my eyes. What about the back? Ehh, I don’t have eyes in the back of my head, so don’t cut the back. Don’t cut the back? [...]

By | September 30th, 2014|0 Comments

Katie Sachen, 17

No Ending In sixth grade I wrote a scary story about a girl who goes to stay at her creepy aunt’s house.  Freshman year I wrote a dystopian story about predetermined futures.  Sophomore year I wrote a short story about meeting my seventy-five year old self.  What do all these [...]

By | September 30th, 2014|0 Comments

Rebecca Cisneros, 17

Finally Home I am not American. Technically speaking, I am an American citizen, and I was born in San Francisco; however, I have never been able to fully identify myself as living among the American culture. While my father and his brothers were the first generation to be born in [...]

By | September 30th, 2014|0 Comments

Audrey Hall, 17

Bug Girl For the entirety of elementary school, I was the weird bug girl. whenever the errant beetle, earwig, or spider wandered into the room, it became my time to shine. I would delicately carry out each six- or eight-legged creature amid the horrified gasps and screams of me classmates. [...]

By | September 30th, 2014|0 Comments

Kate Hoover, 15

Graffiti Artist Walking through the streets of downtown Portland, Oregon, trying to find a place to eat dinner in the mecca of food trucks and creative doughnuts, I remember seeing graffiti everywhere: on the side of a building, framing a walk through an alley, on a bridge across the Willamette [...]

By | September 30th, 2014|0 Comments

Yvonne Lieu, 16

For a Straightened Spine I am a worrier. I spend hours filling my mind with endless possibilities of what could go wrong. Maybe the outfit I planned for tomorrow won’t be worn because of a sudden weather change, maybe I’ll forget my homework at home and get a zero, and [...]

By | March 12th, 2014|0 Comments

Michaela Western, 15

The Hands I Grew Up With The hands I grew up holding were not soft, manicured hands that spent their days at rest. The hands I grew up with were rough, calloused: working hands. Walking through the park one afternoon--when I was three or so--my tiny hand encased in the [...]

By | March 12th, 2014|0 Comments

Ryan Santos, 17

My Sacrifice I gazed down at the bottom of the pool and focused on my stroke. As I came up for air, I could see my coach waving her arms in a frantic manner, gesturing for me to speed up my pace. It was my meet last of the season, [...]

By | March 12th, 2014|0 Comments

Caleb Lundquist, 17

Without Tears Thirteen years; seems like quite a long time, doesn’t it? Well over a decade, and if counted from birth, takes up most of your childhood life; yes thirteen years can be seen as a substantial amount of time-- a lengthy period of life. Well, at least until it’s [...]

By | March 12th, 2014|0 Comments