Rambunctious 2013

Spring Issue

Jamesville-DeWitt High School Literary Magazine with special Senior Art Show appearances!
Cover Painting by Olivia Jasinski

Letter From the Editors...

Dear Jamesville-DeWitt High School, It is such a pleasure to present to you the spring edition of Rambunctious, J-D High Schools literary magazine. We want to thank everyone who has contributed by submitting their own artwork and writing pieces. If it werent for them, our staff would have absolutely nothing to work with. Wed also like to thank our interested readers, as well as the Art and English departments that continue to encourage students to submit. But most of all, we owe our success to Mr. Phillips. We could not think of a person better suited to run this club. As it is our last issue of the year, we hope that you find all of the ideas and senior artwork in the following pages to be as inspiring as we did! Yours truly, The Rambunctious Staff

Staff Members:
Kyrin Pollock Mopati Kuswani Liz Burnam Zach Leibmann Jane Brown Mikayla Mizruchi Erin Jorgensen

Editor of Spring Issue:

Dori Bergman

Katherine Soffieti

Table of Contents

Title
Beached Pointe Shoes Russian Roulette Should You Offend To: A Silhouette Among the Shadows The Start Brown Out History Some Say A True Fisherman The Beast Within Dinner Time

Author
Molly Lenehan Molly Smith Leah Ifraim Katherine Sofietti Shannon Nesterowicz Cayla Dedrick Rachel Fairbanks Harrison Franklin Mikayla Mizruchi Michael Crofoot Nathan Shimer Elijah Lavallee Courtney Vaughan

Page #
4 4 5 5 6 6 7 7 8 8 9-11 12-14 15-20

Margaret Wilhelm

Poetry

Beached By Molly Lenehan Searing grains against smooth flesh, like a star crossed flirtation with an inevitable ending. Searing rays as well, a mnage trios of sorts.

Pointe Shoes By Molly Smith The whisp of satin tied around the ankle. The B A M of slamming the top on the marley. The crunch of cracking the arch in the door. Snapping the elastic on the neck of the foot. Wrenching the drawstring to fit perfectly. Perfect. Perfect. P E R F E C T What we all are trying so hard to be.

Megan Bishop

Russian Roulette By Leah Ifraim

The spicy fumes Circulate through the air Brushing across my nostrils I see a beautifully plated row of giant sushi Elegant underneath a drizzle of spicy mayo I stare at them in awe I delicately pick up one of the rolls Bringing it up to my lips As I take my first bite, I feel a crunch My tongue begins to sizzle Spicy mayo, So creamy and rich, Fizzes across the center of my tongue, Jolting me alert With each chew, I feel the fresh taste of chives Fracture as a tooth bites into it The tuna warms my taste buds, Mixing with the bits of sticky rice Plastering the walls of each tooth Savory tastes collide Bouncing off each cell of my tongue As the final taste of perfection slips down my throat My hand reaches for another roll. Ive never tasted anything so mysterious and incredible. This is the Russian Roulette.

Should You Offend By Katherine Soffietti There is a creature A spinner of gold Who sets the sun Or so Ive been told It carries the moon And raises the trees Turns up dead roots Hums with the bees Cry and come rain Sigh and come wind Depending on The mood he is in Father of nature Beginning and end What a sad fate Should you offend

A wonder indeed You uproot the trees Shoe off the bees And block out the sun Wont be much left For your little ones Creature does not Take kindly to the whip Beating of his dear one No more stiff upper lip Once you rattle Mother Earth her pet will jump to battle Gold can be Re--spun Who to see it? Not you

Alison Emmel

To: By Shannon Nesterowicz To: broken hearts Its not the last page of your fairytale Not the abrupt ending to a beautiful dream Not a last and lost chance at happiness To: aching hearts You will not be forever alone You will not always be the odd one out You will be whole again. Someday. To: healing hearts There are second and fifteenth chances There is a candle in the darkness There is still love to be felt. And to you, heartbreakers and To you, who we thought was our all, We will thank you for your time. And we will move on with our lives.

Morgan Gunther
A Silhouette Among the Shadows By Cayla Dedrick A dusty room full of books Empty always, except for one A silhouette among the shadows No light can reach him when hes here Empty always, except for one Is the heart of a lonely child No light can reach him when hes here Hes hiding forever in the dark Is the heart of a lonely child A scary place, or one of sadness? Hes hiding forever in the dark Someone please give a light A scary, place or one of sadness Maybe its just an endless void Someone please give a light To a child trapped in his own mind Maybe its just an endless void A dusty room full of books To a child trapped in his own mind A silhouette among the shadows

Samuel Dye

 The Start By Rachel Fairbanks

Once you leave that line there's no time to think, or even blink. Because if you take too long, you best bet that everyone is gone. Once you hear that gun you better run. There's no turning back, even if it feels like your whole body is under attack. You can't stop until your body drops over that line. The moment your feet step over that line, you better give it your all. Don't let yourself fall back to where you began, way back in the begining when you didn't know that a moment of pain is worth a life of glory.

Brown Out By Harrison Franklin Blur.... Focus.... Blur focus..... Blur focus blur.... Focus The iris adjusts the lighting A scene of a beautiful landscape BLINK.... A bustling city Chaos commotion BLINK.... A school A room A lesson Focus A math problem BLINK.... A hard seat A shaky bus BLINK... A room A bed THUD........ Blur.... Focus.... Blur focus..... Blur focus blur.... Focus.... A hospital room A nurse An IV BLUR.................. Pulse dead Unconscious Un responsive cold

Jackie Halpin

Some Say By Michael Crofoot

Some say Im bad, some say Im good, but what is bad and what is good? History By Mikayla Mizruchi You dont want to have A life thats full of regrets Only mess up once Make a note of things In order to not forget Mistakes do happen It is factual So make sure you understand Artifacts! Culture! It seems like you would Be given a straight answer But sometimes, youre not Its represented By words, images, symbols Periods of time whos ta say you never should, if you can see that I am me then who are you and why are we, cant you see that we aint we, you is you and I am me. Some say hi and some say hey, I can keep this up all day, some say yay! And some say nay but whos ta say that we aint great. If you see how I am me, then let me be cuz Im just free. Sometimes you and sometimes me, we all need somebody when youre sad or when youre mad its never good to just be bad. But now its time for me to go can you think of anymore?

Nicole Tanquary

Prose
A True Fisherman By Nathan Shimer

There once was a man. This man loved everything about the sport of fishing. He loved being out on the water, the serenity it brought, and the knowledge, skill, and patience that it took to catch fish. Most of all, he lived for the catch itself. He had caught almost every kind of fish imaginable in his lifetime. From pike, bass, walleye, and trout, to bowfin, gar, salmon, and even carp. As great of a fisherman as he was, he just couldnt catch a certain fish from his favorite lake. This fish, a giant muskellunge, had eluded him for years. He knew it existed, for he had lost it three times in his lifetime. The first time, when he was just a boy, the muskie bit through his line with razor sharp teeth. As the boy grew, so did the muskie. When the man was in his forties, the muskie eluded him once again when it spit out his lure with a massive jump. The most recent loss of the prize fish came when the man was starting to grow old at age seventy-four. That time, the fish simply broke his line when he tried to land it. This fish will be the death of me, he said following that trip. The man also knew that he had indeed been losing the very same fish over the years. Oddly, the fish had a distinct black spot near its tail. Try as he might, the man could simply not catch this fish. At age 82, the man was growing too old to continue to launch his johnboat every morning in pursuit of the fish he called Spotty. Finally, the day came when his doctor told him that he could no longer pursue his lifes ambition, for the sake of his health. He was to be allowed one more fishing trip before he would have to pack it up and resort to staring at his wall, which held not a trophy mount, but a lonely, vast emptiness. So as he set out on his final trip, the man vowed to catch Spotty. Though doubts filled his mind, he could only hope that maybe he could have one more shot at the fish that he needed so dearly to catch after a lifes effort. He geared up with the usual-- a six-foot medium action spin cast pole, complete with a Zebco 250 reel. It mightve turned like a coffee grinder, but it had caught him fish his whole life. His line, frayed and curled, still held up pretty well. As he chugged out onto the water, puffs of light smoke rhythmically shooting out of his outboard, he could only think of what it would be like to catch Spotty. At the same time, he doubted if the fish was even still alive. Fish, even those as mighty as Spotty, can only live so long. Spotty had lived almost as long as the man himself. Hoping for the best, the man cast his trusty Dardevelle spoon. He was anchored in his favorite spot, at the edge of a thick weed bed in shallow water right next to a drop off. He could cast and reel directly over the weed bed, just to the side of it, or next to the drop off. In the weed bed, he usually caught bass and pike. Near the drop off, there mostly resided walleye, trout, large pike, and most importantly, Spotty. Spotty frequented an undercut ledge on the drop off about twenty feet down. Spotty was only there, however, when the conditions were

absolutely perfect. It had to be a cloudy day, with totally calm water and a 65-75 degree temperature range for the water. Surprisingly, on the mans last trip, the conditions were a perfect match, fitting every aspect of his judgment for when Spotty should be present. For a second, the mans eyes gleamed with hope, but soon went dull again as he reminded himself that this would be his last time out on the water. His last time surrounded by all of the beautiful sights and sounds of the lake. The birds overhead, the faintest sounds of fish rising to the surface to grab insects, the mist on the water in the early morning hours, the morning sun shining on the water, calm and still as glass, even the mosquitoes that would buzz around his head, taking his mind off the fish. He realized how dearly he would miss it. He cast again, this time to the drop off where trout, walleye, and Spotty lived. After he cast and went back to the realization of how much he would miss the lake, the man started to cry. He cried for the bass, the pike, and the walleye. He cried for the gar, the trout, and the carp. He cried for Spotty. He cried for the birds overhead, the flies buzzing near the surface. He even cried for the little sunfish and minnows that gathered near his boat out of curiosity. And as the man cried and reeled, his pole began to bend. And bend. And bend. It bent until the tip was submerged. Then the man stopped crying, looked up, and tightened the grip on his reel. Through a few more light sobs, he realized that he had hooked something very large. After this, the man saw something that he had rarely seen his whole life. As the hooked fish rose to the surface, the man thought that, just for a second, he caught a glimpse of a black spot on the fishs side as it flashed in the sun, pronounced and easily visible. Following this discovery, what sounded like a coffee grinder suddenly sounded like a jet engine as Spotty started furiously pulling line of the old Zebco. Flustered with excitement, the man fought the fish to the best of his ability. When the fish made a run for it, he let it run. When the fish paused, he reeled and pumped the rod. Slowly but surely, he worked the fish closer to the boat. Periodically, his rod would dip into the water as the fish made more attempts to dash away. The man smiled, knowing that even if this master of elusion managed to elude him once more, he had at least hooked and fought it, for a while anyways. Despite this thought, the man was determined to catch this fish. What an ending to his fishing career this would be! To finally land the fish that had become his lifes ambition, a legend of childhood dreams. The fish was slowly coming closer, slowly entering his grasp. He became more and more confident as he worked the fish in closer. When finally the fish was about five feet from the boat, he got a good glimpse at it. For the first time in his life, he really got to study this fish. It was absolutely beautiful indeed, at four feet long, maybe even more. Its head broke the surface, maw agape, and for a second its eyes looked up towards the man, who was once again tearing up, this time with joy. Then the fish, though almost exhausted, made one last run, pulling out five or so feet of line. This, however, was the giants last hoorah. When it surfaced again, the fish was clearly tired. Maybe not drained totally of its energy, but tired indeed. A tear streaked down the mans face as for the first time, he touched the fish. He didnt even feel worthy to touch such a lively and precious specimen of a fish. But

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he knew that it was time for this fish to be his. He had chased it all his life, hoping desperately to experience what he was going through now, looking at this fish, this wonderful fish. He gently worked around under the fishs mouth, searching for the opening where he could grab the fish, under the gill cover. He slid his wrinkled fingers along the bottom of its head, and found it. He then grasped the fish at hard as he could, unwilling to let his trophy go at any cost. The man then lifted the fish, struggling as he hoisted it up and rested it at the bottom of his johnboat. Suddenly his eyes lit up like never before as he stared at this fish, his fish, that was not in the undercut ledge twenty feet below, not in the hands of another fisherman, not dead, but alive. Not only was he alive; the man had caught him. He had caught Spotty. He simply couldnt believe it. As he stared at its gleaming body, each marking on its side seemed to be perfectly laid out, like an artistic masterpiece. And it was a masterpiece-- a masterpiece of nature; the best kind there is. This fish wasnt made in a laboratory, or artificially created. It wasnt farm raised for the harvest. It was a natural, wild fish. A wild animal, untamed and free in its wilderness. The man realized this, and thought how grateful he was to land such a fish. Once again, he cried. For his joy was so immense, so complete, that he couldnt possibly contain it. He kept a smile on his face as he again picked up the fish, dripping tears on its large body. He cradled it to his chest, admiring the beauty of his situation. It was soon apparent, however, that Spotty had gained back some energy. The man froze as the muscles of the fishs body tensed. Then the fish, with its remaining energy, gave one last flip. The man watched, shocked, as its bony head whipped toward his very own noggin at lightning speed. With astounding force, Spottys head clashed with the mans head at the base of his nose, pushing his nose bone up into his brain. The man laid at the bottom of his trusty johnboat, with Spotty cradled over his heart that ceased to beat; the heart of a true fisherman.

Claudia Lee

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The Beast Within By Elijah Lavallee

The sky is clear and black. Stars shining, moon nearly full. A car zooms by the small store, filling the night with a loud roar, flinging litter everywhere. The parking lot is nearly empty, save for several battered cars of employees. Unlucky employees. Unlucky because no one wishes to stick around Lupine Way at night. Especially now. One car stands out, rundown and beaten with a blown tire and shattered windows. It used to be mine, but I cant afford to get it fixed. The insurance company doesnt want to waste money on it, not for someone like me. Im a checkout clerk. Been one for the past six months. I barely get by with my low paychecks. My hair is matted and graying at the nice old age of twenty-seven. Ive worn the same ripped, patched, and dirty clothes for the past five years. I got these only because my old clothes were torn beyond recognition. Well, I have to walk home. I dont really need to worry about the low lifes, lower than me, at least, that terrorize others in these streets. They know who I am and what I do, I may not look like much, but they know. A pack leader is what I am, an alpha. Whos lost his pack and lived through war. Vietnam, to be exact. I wasnt retired, though. Oh no. I was removed due to war injuries. Thats a euphemism for a disease that makes you more animal than man. Ungrateful fools, they left me with nothing. A war hero becomes a villain when you go through what I have. I walk through darkened alleys, the smell of puke and garbage permeates the air, the salty undertone of blood and wet dog making it all the more pungent. The shadows have eyes, menacing eyes. They dont bother me, though. They fear me. As Ive found is necessary here. It takes a good thirty minutes while walking, but I enter the alley near my house. Well, more like shack, with the only decent room made to deal with my issues. Something is off, I can feel it, and I dont have to wait long before the problem appears. Five problems, to be exact. Well well well.... What do we have here? A lone pup wandering out alone? Careful, you never know what may be out... howling in the night. There are men, large, bulky men with gleaming yellow eyes glinting darkly in the moonlight. The biggest and meanest one is the speaker, scars covering his face, claw marks in his clothing. His voice is deep and gravelly, it sounds as though he barely uses it. Or maybe its just how it always sounds. It doesnt matter. Newcomers, perhaps? The group surrounds me, several of them growling threateningly. Although I hardly find it as such, its simply an observation. What? Nothing to say? Too scared, little pup? The group laughs loudly; I narrow my eyes dangerously, shifting subtly into a fighting stance. Definitely newcomers. Foolish ones.

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I advise you to take your friends and leave, we neednt fight, I state calmly, my voice low but commanding. The men laugh again, another one, the smallest one, sneers, Whatchoo gonna do bout us, milk drinker? That was a mistake, to make an assumption of me. They should know better, caution is the only way to survive as one of them. I will soon get to teach them, though, if they force my hand. I breathe deeply as I stand up from my normal unassuming slouch into my full height. My shorter height and small frame suddenly seems far bigger, far more menacing. Their scents change to show hints of apprehension and fear when they notice I am an alpha wolf. A lone wolf. Still, their foolish leader growls and charges me. The others retain their sanity, for now, at least, hopefully. I do not wish to harm anyone. He reaches me, only to find Im not there, side stepping him. Lashing out with my palm, I catch his shoulder, breaking his momentum and shoving him into another thug. Ive had enough, before they can come any closer, I take another deep breath, I fully let loose my strength, eyes closed. My stance changes again, from passive defense to fully aggressive, becoming threatening and powerful. I breathe out, opening my eyes. Theyre now bright, a glowing amber, a stark contrast to their normal, kind blue. The fools stumble back in fear as they now fully recognize me for what I am, truly understanding. I growl out a single word, the underlying menace evident, Leave. Well it cant be said they didnt understand Darwins theories. They do their sense of survival credit. They stumble back with a yelp, as if stung. Turning, they flee with their tails between their legs, figuratively, at least. Its a dog eat dog world out there. I continue on my way to my rundown house on the edge of the city. It only has three rooms, a bedroom, a living room-kitchen mix, and an empty, windowless room with an iron door. The lawn is overgrown with weeds and dead grass, one of the windows cracked, the other barred with hard wood, the door is on a single hinge. The room with the iron door is the only one not rotting or broken. But I suppose thats more out of necessity, considering this building was built specifically for people like me. I enter the house and wait until the next night... I sit in the empty room; the iron door padlocked, bolted, sealed, and screwed shut. If I were to look outside, the full moon would be just rising over the trees. I feel the change coming now, the beast turning wild, preparing to come free. I brace myself. The transformation is terribly painful, yet powerful, as always. Bones shift, muscles change. My clothes do not tear because Im not wearing them. Itd be bad to lose my only set of clothes. Silver-grey hair grows from my skin everywhere. My figure becomes slightly hunched. The now protruding muzzle for a mouth is the most painful part. Followed closely by the claws. Hands, then feet. My body is not my own now, it belongs to the animal. But Im aware. First, the creature, the monster that is I, looks pitiful. Whining and skeletal, its sad eyes looking around. Totally unassuming. Something you couldnt help but feel sorry for. A lonely beast in a bad situation.

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Then, it looks around, it sees the locked door, the enclosed walls covered with claw marks. It growls, launching itself bodily at a wall, scratching and scraping with all its might. Each hit causes the room to shake. Loud barks and growls emanate from its mouth. It turns around quickly and jumps towards another wall, banging its fists. Then it leaps deftly and head butts the door hard. It jumps back and whines, shaking its head. This continues on into the night as it scratches the walls, the floor, itself. The wounds will stay while the wolf leaves later on. I will have to go to a hospital to have them healed. They will know what happened, for Im registered. Its one of the requirements. I also have a number tag in my ear. I wake up the next day, naked and shivering and alone. I remember with longing the days my friends were still alive. Loud and obnoxious, carefree. Before the war, we were so happy. Then we entered the war; dreams of glory and patriotism. And now I am the only one living. Alone, and nothing. But Im all right with it, most of the time. After all, Im only a werewolf. Only a monster.

Eli Tupper

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Dinner Time By Courtney Vaughan

(The play takes place at the Burke familys household. The mother, Rebecca, is scrambling to get dinner ready and made for her husband, Steve, and their four children. Mike is 17, Julia is 16, Fallon is 12, and Matthew is 11.) (Rebecca is setting the table when Mike and Julia walk into the kitchen.) REBECCA Hey guys, how was school today? JULIA Omg it was amazing, Mom! MIKE It sucked. REBECCA Well at least we got one positive response. What made is so great, sweetheart? JULIA Mom, you will never guess who talked to me today! (Before Rebecca could answer, Julia continued.) It was Todd! He came to my locker this morning and said hi to me, I nearly meltedREBECCA (Rebecca is interrupting.) Aw thats great sweetheart but could you please go call Fallon and Matthew for dinner? JULIA (Julia is screaming from where she is.) MATTHEW, FALLON, GET YOUR BUTTS DOWN HERE FOR DINNER! MIKE Whats for dinner, Mom? Im starving. Coach made me run 20 hills. REBECCA And why is that? MIKE I was late. REBECCA And why is that? MIKE I had detention ok mom? Im sorry. REBECCA And why is that? (Before Mike answers, Steve comes through the door yelling on his cell phone.) STEVE (On the phone) Are you kidding me? I cant make that date tomorrow. I have court at 8 a.m. (Matthew enters) MATTHEW But Dad, you promised you would come to my little league game! (Steve ignores him and continues talking.)

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REBECCA (To Mike) we will discuss this later, Mike. (To Matthew) Matthew, honey, I will be there. I even got popsicles and juice for you and the team for after the game. MATTHEW Oh what kind?! STEVE Thats great. See you tomorrow. (Steve hangs up phone.) REBECCA The SpongeBob push pops! MATTHEW Are you kidding me, Mom? What the heck! That kind is for babies! REBECCA But I thought you loved them. (Rebecca continues cooking at the stove.) (Fallon enters looking upset and goes and sits down at the table. Julia goes and sits next to her along with Matthew and Steve. Rebecca begins setting the table.) Fallon, can you please let the dog out and grab the milk out of the fridge? (Fallon gets up and does so. Rebecca realizes she looks upset.) REBECCA Honey, whats wrong? JULIA Too late. Henry pissed on the carpet again. FALLON (On the verge of tears) Sam cheated on me, Mom. REBECCA Watch that mouth and clean it up, Julia. (Julia burst into laughter from the kitchen table as she gets up to clean up the dogs accident. Rebecca gives her the eye.) JULIA Im sorry but I had to. Youre in 6th grade, what did he do? Hug another girl? FALLON (Fallon begins crying.) No! Even worse! I saw him holding hands with Kate afterschool today! REBECCA (Rebecca hugs Fallon.) Im sorry sweetie but remember, youre only in 6th grade. FALLON Mom, you dont understand, I lovedJULIA (Julia is on her hands and knees wiping the floor with a paper towe.l) This is repulsive. And if it screws up my manicure, Im going to be hella pissed. REBECCA Julia, I will not ask you again to watch your mouth.

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(Julia gets up and sits at the table. Steve, Matthew, Fallon, and Mike are patiently seated at the table.) MIKE (Mike interrupts from the table.) Lets get this show on the road, Im starving! STEVE (Steve finally gets off the phone.) I agree. Im starving. I worked out during my lunch break today. (Rebecca laughs as she brings the food over to the table.) Keep laughing honey but Im about to be the same size I was when you first met me! (Steve pulls Rebecca over and kisses her.) MATTHEW EW! Stop flirting Mom and Dad. It makes me sick. (Rebecca blushes, sits down, and begins serving everyone their food.) JULIA (Julia is looking down at her phone.) Omg! No she didnt! MATTHEW Who? Did what? REBECCA Excuse me? JULIA (Julia starts rambling.) Stacey just posted a picture of her and Todd on Facebook but they broke up 2 weeks ago and he said hi to me today. He likes me, I can tell, but why would she do that? Is she jealous or something? I swear to god when I see that little boyfriend stealer I am going to kick her(Rebecca interrupts.) REBECCA Ok thats enough Julia. MIKE Yo are you talking about Stacey Little? She is soooooo fine! FALLON Mike, shut up! Stop talking about girls like they are a piece of meat! STEVE (Steve high fives Mike but is taken down by Rebeccas glare.) I, I, I mean lets be respectful here. MIKE (Mike rolls his eyes.) Ma, speaking of meat, where is the chicken? REBECCA Shit! (Rebecca gets up and runs over to the oven.) MATTHEW Thats a dollar in the swear jar, Mom!

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MIKE Mom, while youre up, can you grab the muscle milk out of the fridge? (Rebecca pulls the chicken out of the oven, grabs the milk, and sets it on the table.) REBECCA It might be a little dry but Steve, would you mind cutting it? STEVE Of course and pour me a glass of that milk too, Mike. (Steve pulls up his sleeve and picks up the knife.) Look at that muscle, Rebecca. (Winks) (Rebecca blushes and starts rubbing his arm.) JULIA Somebody gag me. Besides Mom, I cannot eat that chicken. I need to squeeze into a prom dress. MATTHEW EWWW! FALLON Its October. Prom is in May. JULIA And that is 7 months too soon! MATTHEW Julia, you can work out with Dad! STEVE Hey Matt, thats a great idea! We can go to daddy daughter zumba! JULIA Itd rather die. MIKE Id pay to see that. MIKE Who says youre going to prom anyway? MIKE Youre only a sophomore. JULIA Where have you been? Todd is going to ask me. Remember? REBECCA Ok, settle down. Who wants the first slice? MIKE Hello, me, football player over here. MATTHEW Me!!! JULIA Oh you think youre so cool Mr. Varsity football player. MATTHEW Mom, he always gets served first! I have a soccer game Saturday!

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MIKE Coming from Mrs. Todd-said-hi-to-me-so-that-means-he-likes-me. FALLON Mom, I cant eat. Im depressed. STEVE Thats enough kids! Your mother worked hard preparing this meal. We will all eat it and enjoy it. FALLON Actually Wegman's made it. Mom picked it up on the way home from my soccer practice and heated everything up in the oven. REBECCA I still had to bake the rolls and make the salad! JULIA Oh I didnt know it took an Einstein to follow the Pillsburys directions on the can or chop up some veggies and lettuce. STEVE Julia, that was very disrespectful. Apologize now or your phone will be with me for the rest of the night. JULIA Sorry Mom. (Julia rolls her eyes.) REBECCA Thank you. Now can we please for focus on the positive parts of our day? MATTHEW I got a hundred on my spelling test! MIKE Game day Friday!! (Mike high fives Steve again.) REBECCA Good job! Speaking of tests, how did your physics test go, Mike? MIKE Well I didnt fail STEVE Physics is pointless. REBECCA Steve, one more bad test grade and Mikes butt will be on the bench for Fridays game. MIKE Dad, the hottest girl in school is wearing my jersey to Fridays game. You know I will be playing. (Fallon begins crying.) FALLON Sam promised me his football jersey for Saturdays game. JULIA I didnt know that girls wore boys jerseys to modified football games.

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REBECCA Im so sorry sweetheart. Would you like to be excused and we can talk about this later. JULIA Thank god we dont have to continue talking about little Romeo and Juliet anymore. STEVE That is strike two, Julia. Watch it! FALLON Some of us are dealing with serious emotional damage! MIKE Forgiveness sake, you are in 6th grade! JULIA Fallon, there are other braced face nerds in the sea still struggling through puberty. FALLON Hey now! At least I dont have glasses or raging acne like you did! MATTHEW Mom, what is puberty? (Julia rolls her eyes at Fallon.) MIKE Its when you become a man and you(Mike is cut off by Rebecca.) REBECCA That is enough! If I have to raise my voice one more time, no dessert! (Everyone became silent.) MIKE So I guess now would be a bad time to explain that detention.

Peter Slisz

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Thank you for reading

Rambunctious Spring Issue 2013

Rambunctious Magazine Jamesville-Dewitt High School P.O. Box 606 6845 Edinger Drive DeWitt, NY 13214-0606 (315) 445-8340