April 2020 Volume 47 Number 7 cricketmedia.com $6.95

the realm of imagination

the realm of imagination

April 2020 Volume 47 Number 7

SELF-PORTRAIT CRICKET STAFF
Lonnie Plecha Editor
COVER AND BORDER Anna Lender Art Director
Patrick Murray Designer
by Nicole Wong Carolyn Digby Conahan Staff Artist
“Hanami” (a cherry blossom viewing party) Deborah Vetter Senior Contributing Editor
Digitally created on the iPad using the Procreate app Julie Peterson Copyeditor
Emily Cambias Assistant Editor
I drew all the time as a girl, everywhere, including on the Stacey Lane Smith Assistant Editor
wallpaper and behind furniture, where my mother would Adrienne Matzen Permissions Specialist
discover secret drawings years later. My parents understood
—Dad was a designer and painter, and Mom was a fashion CRICKET ADVISORY BOARD
illustrator and art teacher. I knew from a young age that tell- Marianne Carus Founder
ing stories through art was not only going to be my career
but also the focus of my life. and Editor-in-Chief from 1972–2012
Kieran Egan Professor of Education,
I received my first illustration job when I was twelve, Simon Fraser University, Vancouver
studied art at the Rhode Island School of Design, and still Betsy Hearne Professor, University of
love spending all my time painting and drawing illustrations Illinois, Champaign; Critic, Author
for children’s books and magazines. I live in Massachusetts Sybille Jagusch Children’s Literature Specialist
with my artist models: my husband, daughter, our dog, and
our cat. Linda Sue Park Author
Katherine Paterson Author
Landscapes are one of my favorite things to paint. I Barbara Scharioth Former Director of the
love to fill a wide scope of space with tiny, intimate details International Youth Library in Munich, Germany
—some so small you have to lean in close and enter the Anita Silvey Author, Critic
painting yourself. Sandra Stotsky Professor of Education Reform,
University of Arkansas, Fayetteville
Is it time to renew? Roger Sutton Editor-in-Chief of
The Horn Book Magazine, Critic
shop.cricketmedia.com Ann Thwaite Author, Critic

1-800-821-0115 Educational Press Association of America Academics Choice
Golden Lamp Award Smart Media Award

Distinguished Achievement Award

International Reading Association
Paul A. Witty Short Story Award
1988–1993, 1997, 2003, 2004, 2006,

2007, 2009, 2011–2015

National Magazine Award Society of Midland Authors Parents’ Choice
finalist in the category of Award for Excellence in Gold Award
Children’s Literature
General Excellence

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continued on page 47

5 Business and Bows by S. Q. Eries
11 Monarch Metamorphosis by Sandi Leibowitz
12 A Wish for Kali by Parul Sharma
17 Basant Panchami by Helen Zax
18 The Girl Who Listened with Her Feet by Eve Nadel Catarevas
22 Riddles for April Fools by Rachel Lott
24 The Red Junglefowl in the Fairy Teacup by Yanting Gueh
30 Favorite First Sentences from Cricket readers
31 Waiting for Elijah by Susan Gabbay
36 Babylonian Serpent Seals by Beatrice Tanaka
38 False Impressions by Christy Lenzi

2 Letterbox
4 Cricket Country by Carolyn Digby Conahan
35 Ugly Bird’s Crossbird Puzzle
45 Cricket League
46 Cricket and Ladybug by Carolyn Digby Conahan
48 Old Cricket Says

cover and border art © 2020 by Nicole Wong

THIS ONE’S MEWY YAY!
FOR YOU.

Dear Everybuggy, Dear Cricket, DO WE HAVE Passover is a Jewish holiday cele-
My nonna recently found my mom’s old I think you should add a lizard. A LIZARD
IN CRICKET WE HAVE brating the release of the Israelites
Cricket magazines. I was reading them one day I love your comics. I love you. COUNTRY? DRAGONS from slavery in Egypt a long, long
when a story from the October 1976 issue caught Addison Maisel, age 9 H’MMM. SOMETIMES! time ago. We have a Seder on the
first night, where we tell the story
my eye. “Minnie Maloney and Macaroni” is about Otsego, Michigan

a family who buys seven boxes of macaroni every and eat special foods, including

day for good luck. Knowing me, I decided to I got the idea for this good matzah (flat cracker to symbolize

calculate how many boxes per year Minnie bought: deeds thread because today at how the Israelites fled so quickly they

2,555! Imagine all the mac and cheese you could school I was outside for fitness, and didn’t have time to let bread rise, so they

make with such a number! after we did the activity we could do put the dough on their backs and let the sun

Maybe I can convince my grandmother, as whatever we wanted. So after I did some stuff bake it into matzah) and charoseth (a paste of fruits

we’re off to the store right now. Toodles! with my friends, I decided to go around and pick and nuts to symbolize the mortar the Israelites had

Eva Middleton, age 12 up all the trash I saw. And boy, there is a lot of to put in the brick walls they built as slaves).

Hightstown, New Jersey litter around our school, which makes me kinda For the next eight days, we eat no leavened

mad because it’s so easy to just throw it away! bread and instead a whole lot of matzah. I actually

Hello! One of my friends joined in, and I just felt really love matzah, but most of my Jewish friends and

I am a new Chatterboxer. A little about myself: good about it. family get very tired of it by the end of Passover.

I enjoy crafts such as knitting, beading, and book This thread is for any good deeds you’ve done Kitten

binding. I take karate. I like biking. I play piano. I or seen other people do, since I feel like if people Passover! Down to Earth

have a large number of siblings. I absolutely love just took the time to do nice things more, the

reading and writing, which brings me to another world would be a better place. I led a Seder for my entire class several days
before Pesach (Passover) started, as my senior
topic! A name! How did you people choose yours? Angela, age 12 project. I had to plan it, cook matzah-ball soup,
make charoseth, and bring all the supplies for a
I’ve been thinking about using Scrivener, since I Chirp at Cricket, Chatterbox
bflhteohauaredttrnytiatr-eawpgddoeaiarotssidloooannttsi,amuStlcreseicted.eodeIsnrrsyns!f,etuIItewltaweadfvlaokeoseonfaddtt.,teaoEalblnvnionedougrftywonoerk,AMSTWOAHUOAZNWITDN!SG.
like to write and Scrivener is the name of medieval
Passover and Seders in general,
scribes. I would love to meet all of you! Hello, Everyone, explaining what it is and how Seders
have developed throughout history. I
(Possibly) Scrivener April is starting its month-long reign (get it?). had the youngest in the class read the
four questions in English. I also hid the
Down to Earth, Chatterbox April’s month-long observations include National afikomen for my classmates to find. It was a
really amazing experience.
Autism Month, Keep America Beautiful Month,
I’m really happy I helped other people under-
Hello! National Garden Month, and National Poetry stand Judaism. I think it’s really important that we
try to come together to celebrate and understand
I live in a pretty small town (in the middle of Month. Special days and holidays in 2020 include our different cultures, particularly nowadays.

nowhere) and I’m about thirty minutes to an hour April 2 National Peanut Butter and Jelly Day, 7 Cockleburr
Passover! Down to Earth
from any stores, even Walmart. I have a lot of chick- World Health Day, 8–16 Passover, 12 Easter, 13

ens, a beagle, and a cat. I play piano and flute and National Scrabble Day, 22 Earth Day, 24 Arbor

I’ve been trying to teach myself to play ukulele, but Day, and 29 International Dance Day.

it’s actually harder than I thought. I appreciate jazz Last month we asked you: Who is the new

music. I like to write and draw as a hobby. substitute Easter bunny? Rogue Wilding said,

Sybill “The new bunny is Cricket, and he’s hiding future

Kyngdom, Chatterbox magazines!” Aqua said, “The new Easter bunny

Dear Ladybug, CHOCOLATE CHIP is the whole gang, and they’re handing Today my mom brought four beautiful baby
Hello! You are one of my COOKIES ARE out small magazines!” Kitten said, chicks home! Two are honey brown with black
“The Tooth Fairy, who is giving out markings and brown eyes (one has a pink beak and
favorite buggies. Ladybugs are my PRETTY GREAT— toothbrushes!” And Spiffycat said, one has a paler beak), one is classic yellow with
favorite bugs in general, but I also BUT EVEN BETTER “Ugly Bird is the substitute, and he’s
share your love for chocolate chip handing out stinky socks!”
SHARED!

cookies. Floof Industries

Chloe C., age 150 months Ladybug Lane

Brookline, Massachusetts This Month, Chatterbox

2

fuzzy legs and surprisingly opaque blue I RECOMMEND My sister likes to germinate CHIRPS FROM CRICKET’S
eyes, and the fourth is orange with CARING FOR avocado seeds. We already have two LETTERBOX AND CHATTERBOX
a long neck and brown eyes! Their CHICKENS...
names are Camila (the yellow one) little avocado saplings that have My favorite words: wanderlust, vie, zenith,
been growing for about a year, and

Henny (the paler-beaked brown they’re a bit more than a foot tall. crescendo.

one), Penny (the pink-beaked brown The thing with avocado seeds is Luna-Starr, age 27 eons

one), and Lord Sanwich (Sally for they’re hard to get started. You Words, Blab About Books

short, the orange one). ...FROM A have to fill a jar with water and Trapezoid is pretty great, in my opinion.
Do any of you have advice on how DISTANCE! EEK! impale the sides of the seed with Stardust
three or four toothpicks so that when
to take care of them? We are building a

safe, large home for them outside for when you put the seed in the water it won’t be Words, Blab About Books

they grow older, but I’ve never owned chickens completely submerged but just partially, with

before and I want to make sure I do it correctly. the toothpicks resting on the lip of the jar. And If April showers bring May flowers, what do

Esile, age 12 then you have to wait weeks and weeks to even May flowers bring? Pilgrims!

Chicks! Down to Earth see if they’ll sprout, which only a few do. But it’s Summer

worth it to think that someday you’ll have your This Month

This is a thread to talk about your school, what very own avocado tree! After all, there are no wild

kind of classes you’re taking, and things like that. I avocado trees left, because the animal that used Last year my family was invited by friends to

go to an arts-focus secular private school. There are to eat its seeds went extinct a long time ago, so go to their Seder, and it was really cool. I think it’s

about 150 kids in my grade. An average class is about humans have to plant all new avocado trees. It’s really cool to learn more about different aspects of

fifteen people. I like the size of my school because the same way with ginkgoes. people’s culture.

it’s small enough that you know everybody, but still CignusMoon, age 158 moons The Riddler

big enough to have things like sports and theater. Random Thoughts/Things, Down to Earth Passover! Down to Earth

My courses for this year are English, French,

Algebra 2 honors, Chem honors, Art History, Karthicha stood just outside the closed Is it just me, or does Chatterbox have

Mysteries, and Orchestra. Mysteries is this very gates to Catastrophe’s base, waiting. He a calming effect? The colors are sooth-

odd class that’s a mix between health, community wasn’t quite sure what he was waiting CHATTERBOXERS ing, and it’s just so great to interact

service, and group therapy. Mostly we chat about for, but he knew he was waiting for ARE THE BEST! with other creative kids my age and

our lives and feelings. something. Perhaps for the gates to share our ideas. I really love this

I feel very lucky to have such an excellent open, so he could— place, but most of all the people.

education in such an excellent environment. It’s Creeeeeeak. The gates were Tuxedo Kitten

a pretty “anything goes” place. There’s not much opening. No, wait, they were closing Random Thoughts/Things

of a dress code, a club for everything, and at again. Why couldn’t these people sim- Down to Earth

lunch there’s always something going on—like a ply make up their minds? Ah, there was

lip-synching contest or water balloon toss or an a person’s silhouette behind the closed Why are the Down clues in the

improv show or something. Last year the senior gates. Cowards. New York Times mini crosswords always

prank involved filling the courtyard with snow in “Who are you?” called a voice from within. . . . easier for me than the Across ones? Maybe

the middle of June. It was hilarious. Karthicha because I do a couple Across ones first, so then

Abigail Kyngdom the Downs always have a few letters filled in?

School! Down to Earth Maybe I should try doing it the other way.

I thought it might be fun and wonderful for Applejaguar

April first is more widely known as April Fools’ us to join together as a Chatterbox family and Random Thoughts, Down to Earth

Day, but it’s also the start of NaPoWriMo, National serve others around us. Donate items to a local

Poetry Writing Month! NaPoWriMo is where you secondhand store or give them to charity or to Are you combating writer’s block? Do you

try to write one poem each day (or more if you’re someone in need. Perhaps there are some old have an idea you’d like to test out before starting a

super motivated) for every day of April. If there toys you don’t play with anymore. Why not give full roleplay or a folk tale from your world-building

are people who want to do this we could compile them away to someone who will play with and endeavors? Post a story you’ve written. Come

some prompts together for us to do—just any love them? Maybe they’re some books you don’t share a story before the fireplace! Feel free to

random prompts or themes to use, because thirty read anymore that are just cluttering up your leave a writing prompt for someone else.

poems is kind of a lot to just be room. Why not look to see if there’s a library or a Alizarine

I LOVE doing impromptu. If you’d little free library in your area that you can donate The Short Story Café, Inkwell
NATIONAL like to post your poetry them to?
POETRY WRITING here, you can do that, and Send letters to Cricket’s Letterbox,
MONTH! there’s also the poetry Or donate some of your time. Find a way to P.O. Box 300, Peru, IL 61354, or email us at
thread. share some time with someone in your family or a
friend who may need it. Maybe play a game with
[email protected].
I’m excited! them or have a quality conversation with them.

Leafy Find out something new about them you’ve never Letters may be edited for length.

NaPoWriMo known before. Visit the Chatterbox at:

Pudding’s Place Joan B. of Arc, age 17

Chatterbox Camelot, Down to Earth cricketmagkids.com/chatterbox

3

WHAT A DAY! THE EEK! YOU NEVER KNOW
WEATHERBUG SAID WHAT YOU’LL FIND IN YOUR
RAIN, BUT WE HAVE PERFECT FOR SPRING OLD FAVORITE BOOKS. I WAS
SUNSHINE, INSTEAD! CLEANING! I LIKE TO GIVE MY “AFTER WINTER’S JUST A KINDER-BUG WHEN I
YOU NEVER KNOW, FAVORITE BOOKS A DUST OFF, DARK IS OVER, WROTE THAT...
AND SEE WHICH ONES I NEED TO SPRING BRINGS I WROTE A
WITH SPRING. SUNSHINE, BUDS, AND SPRING POEM
READ AGAIN.
CLOVER.” IT’S A ONCE!

WHAT’S POEM.

THIS?

WINTER DAYS YOU KNOW, YEAH, SPEAKING OF GOTTA WE HAVE TO
ARE SHORT LAMPS. WE POEMS– I’M GO! TURN THE
AND LAMP-Y. LIGHTS. GOT WRITING AN ODE TO I HAVE TO HANG COMPOST!
SPRINGY DAYS IT. SPRING! IT’S EPIC. OUT MY LONG
ARE BASEBALL LAMPY? BECAUSE OF I COULD READ A UNDERWEAR!
CAMPY! THE DARK. FEW PAGES, IF YOU

INSIST...

AND
DOUBLE-DIG
THE GARDEN

BEDS!

FINE! I NEED TO FINISH, ANYWAY. ARGH! NOW I’VE GOT RHYMING STUCK AND THING, A FINE SPRING
I HAVE LOTS AND LOTS, IN MY HEAD! BRIGHT AND SUNNY, FIRST AND CLING, DAY BRINGS CHORES
OF SPRINGTIME THOUGHTS. DAY OF SPRING–YOU’LL FIND IT RHYMES, AND FLING, AND AND BREEZES, FRESH
UNDERWEAR AND...
(OOOO! I AM SO GOOD! I’M GOING WITH RING AND DING. STRING!
TO WRITE THAT RHYME DOWN.) AH-CHOO!
DUSTY
SNEEZES?

TIME TO RUN! OR FACE BAD

HEY! LISTEN EEK! HERE COMES RHYMING BY THE
TO THIS— LADYBUG!
TON!

OH, DEAR.

4

Business and Bows
by S. Q. EriES

NISHINOMIYA MIDDLE SCHOOL’S last covers from traditional fabric. At first it was
just for her university friends, but she’s gotten
period ends, and summer break begins. As so good Granny’s selling them in the shop.”
we bustle off, everyone buzzes about vacation
plans. Many are taking the bullet train to My friend immediately understands. “What
Kyoto or Tokyo to sightsee. Some talk about you’re saying is that all the women in your fam-
the beach and camping. Others have more ily are successful entrepreneurs, except you.”
industrious activities.
I nod. “Granny built her shop from
I gape at the workbooks Shiori shows scratch. Mama’s a freelance graphic artist. My
off as we leave school. “English and Spanish aunt has her sake brewery, and now Sis. . . . I
summer classes?” Just looking at the foreign feel like I’m falling behind.”
words, so different from our Japanese charac-
ters, makes my head hurt. “Then start something,” says Shiori.
“What do you want to do?”
She pokes me with her elbow. “Eri, some
of us enjoy learning languages.” “That’s the problem.” I kick a pebble in
my path. “The only thing I want is to work
“If you ask me, that stuff’s too compli- with kimonos.”
cated to enjoy.”
Shiori blinks, then guffaws. “Eri, your
Shiori laughs. “I can say the same about grandmother loves having you as her assistant.
kimonos. All those knots and sashes—I don’t
know how you can remember them, let alone
think they’re fun. Speaking of which, is that
what you’re doing? Working extra hours at
your grandmother’s kimono shop?”

“For now,” I say hesitantly. “I’m thinking
about doing something else to make money.”

“If you want something different, Osaka
Waterpark’s hiring—”

“No, I’m not talking about jobs. I’m talk-
ing about making my own money.”

Shiori frowns in confusion, so I explain.
“My sister Ayano’s been making bags and tablet

Illustrated by Junli Song A KIMONO IS A IT’S AN ENTREPRENEUR IS 5
LOOSE, WIDE-SLEEVED TRADITIONAL SOMEBUGGY WHO STARTS A
text © 2020 by Melinda Ng, art © 2020 by Junli Song ROBE FASTENED WITH BUSINESS. SAKE IS JAPANESE
JAPANESE RICE WINE. SAY IT: SAH KEE.
A SASH. CLOTHING.

I’m sure she hopes you’ll take over her busi- “That’s great,” I say, clapping my hands. “But
ness someday.” you said festival booths were expensive.”

“That’s not the same,” I groan. “Yes, I She grins. “Not if you can work a deal.”
love Granny’s shop, but I want to start some- That’s Sis for you. Whether it’s getting
thing new, try an idea I came up with.” quality fabric for almost nothing or anticipat-
ing trends, Sis has amazing business sense.
Shiori pats my shoulder. “You’ll think of “What’s the deal?”
something, Eri.” “A reduced fee for posting flyers in the
neighborhood shopping arcades. That’s where I
THE SHOP’S WOODEN sign reads: Zentoh need you.” She presses her palms in a pleading
pose. “Will you post the flyers for me?”
Kimono Rentals. Even in the twenty-first My excitement crashes to a halt. “I’m sorry.
century, occasions like weddings and coming- I promised Granny—”
of-age ceremonies in Japan demand traditional “I’ll do your store shifts.”
clothing. However, formal kimonos are expen- When I gape in confusion, her expression
sive—an ensemble can cost a million yen. turns sheepish. “I want to finish more bags
before the festival. I can’t sew while putting up
That’s where Granny comes in. For a flyers, but if I’m here . . .”
reasonable fee, she provides customers with “ . . . you can sew bags in between custom-
garments, accessories, and dressing services. ers,” I say, grasping her logic.
And those dressing services are essential. “Exactly. Granny’s will-
Wearing kimonos requires practiced hands ing, but only if you agree.
and special knowledge of folds and knots. Flyers probably aren’t as fun
After years of training, I can handle a number for you, but—”
of ensembles, but I’m still a long way from “I’ll do it.”
dressing a bride in wedding finery. She stops short. “Really?”
I nod. Seeing Sis work so
I enter through the rear, calling a greet- hard to succeed, I can’t help
ing as I open the back door. But instead of but want to lend a hand.
Granny, my sister bursts in from the show- “Thanks,” she squeals,
room. “Eri, you’re here!” hugging me tight. “I owe
you one.”
I start, surprised to see her. Most after-
noons, she’s busy making or promoting her AS SHIORI AND I leave
bags. As Sis pounces on me, our grandmother
chuckles by the doorway. “I’ll let you girls nego- the shopping arcade, I say,
tiate,” she says, withdrawing for the showroom. “Thanks again for posting
these flyers with me.”
Negotiate? Now I’m really confused.
“What’s going on?”

“Opportunity!” Sis brandishes a flyer that
reads: Nishinomiya Summer Festival. “I’m
selling my bags here next weekend.”

YEN IS JAPANESE MONEY. ENSEMBLES ARE DIFFERENT
ONE HUNDRED YEN IS WAYS OF PUTTING TOGETHER
6 ABOUT ONE DOLLAR. AN OUTFIT.

“No problem. It’s not like I have anything Suddenly, Shiori’s eyes light up. “Let’s
to do before my language classes start. But invite them to the festival. It’s advertising,
did we have to wear yukata?” she says, fussing plus I can practice my English.”
with her sash.
Before I can protest, she’s dragged me
“Of course,” I declare. “We’re advertising over.
a festival.”
I smile nervously, unable to follow the
Yukata are casual cotton kimonos. They’re fast-paced English conversation. However,
also the most affordable kimonos and stan- Shiori and the tourists are having fun talking,
dard attire for summer festivals. “Festivals so I can’t complain. Eventually, Shiori says,
aren’t festivals without yukata,” I say, flour- “Eri, Rachel and Malik want to take a picture
ishing my wide sleeves. with us by the shrine gate.”

“True,” says Shiori. “But today’s a regular “Sure,” I say, relieved to hear Japanese.
day, and the only ones in kimonos are old “Let’s go—”
people and tourists. Look, see what I mean?”
“Oh!”
In the distance are two college-age for- We jump at Rachel’s cry to see her sash
eigners: a coffee-dark boy in a striped yukata caught on the bench handrail. As I hurry
and a girl whose hair matches her gold chry- to disentangle the partially untied bow, the
santhemum yukata. Chatting in English, they embarrassed girl speaks, and Shiori translates.
take selfies on a bench outside a shrine. “Rachel doesn’t know how to fix the sash;

7

WHOA, KIMONO-TYING SOUNDS LIKE MAYBE YOU SHOULD
LADYBUG. A FUN BUSINESS TO TRY! LEARN HOW, FIRST.
(TUG-TUG-YANK)
EASY!

their innkeeper was the one who dressed Excitement flutters my stomach. I’ve never
them. She’s asking if we—” offered dressing services at a festival before,
but compared to formal kimonos, I’m sure
“No problem!” I give Rachel a thumb’s up adjusting yukata will be a breeze.
and lead her to the shrine restroom.
Just then, the park loudspeaker announces
Minutes later, we return, Rachel’s yukata the festival opening. As vendors raise their
better than before. Beaming, she shows Malik voices before the oncoming crowd, Sis says,
the fancy double bow I used to replace her “Ready?”
plain one. As he snaps a picture, Shiori says,
“Good job, Eri. If you weren’t here, Rachel I pump my fist. “You bet!”
would’ve been in trouble.”
TWO HOURS LATER, my voice is raw, and
“You could’ve fixed it, Shiori.”
She shakes her head. “I’m terrible with my profits zero.
yukata, especially sashes.” Meanwhile, Sis is doing brisk business.
“It’s not so hard—”
“For you.” Shiori sighs. “Eri, you don’t Her bags have attracted customers all after-
realize how many of us need our moms and noon. As she hands a purchase to yet another
grandmothers to help with our yukata at festi- buyer, she says, “And if you’d like your yukata
val time. If our sashes got undone, we’d be as spruced up, my sister here can help you. She’s
helpless as Rachel.” an experienced kimono shop employee.”
Yukata . . . festival . . . sashes . . . An idea
hits me, and I shout, “That’s it!” I smile as the customer glances at me and
my sign. “That’s interesting,” she says and
SIS CHUCKLES AS we finish setting up. “I walks away.

never imagined I’d repay you by sharing my My heart sinks. “That’s interesting” and
booth,” she says, “but this looks like it’ll work curious looks are the only responses I’ve gotten.
perfectly.” Even with Sis helping, I haven’t had a single
customer. Disappointment’s sapping my morale
I grin back. “And hopefully bring us both when Sis whispers, “Chin up. The festival lasts
business.” till midnight, and yukata bows droop after
people walk a long time. Keep telling people
Sis’s wares fill the front in eye-catching you’re here, and eventually they’ll come.”
displays. Meanwhile, the back half’s curtained
off into a makeshift dressing room. And to She’s right, I think to myself. Buoyed by
the side of the booth is a sign in Japanese and her encouragement, I pull myself together as
English (courtesy of Shiori): someone says, “Excuse me, what’s this yukata
adjustment about?”
Yukata Adjustments ¥200
Come spruce up your bow! I whirl, eager for a customer—only to see
a man in T-shirt and shorts. Somehow, I keep

8 SEE? LOOKS GREAT! THAT’LL MMMMF!
BE 40 MILLION YEN! FMMMMF!

my smile from crumbling while I answer his I know it, she’s ushered five yukata-clad girls
question. to my booth.

“That’s interesting,” he replies. She points to the sign, but I have trou-
As he leaves, I notice how many festival ble understanding Rachel’s rapid English.
goers are also in regular clothes. And regular Fortunately, one of her friends speaks some
clothes means no prospective business. Maybe Japanese. “The bow you made for Rachel
this was a stupid idea . . . before was beautiful,” she says. “We’d like you
“Eri!” to give all of us that same bow.”
A girl in a chrysanthemum yukata waves
from a group of foreign students. “Rachel?” I Excitement zips though me. “Really?’’
say. They nod. Rachel brandishes the picture
Rachel starts walking over, then stops. of her double bow and gives me a thumbs up.
Abruptly, she turns to her friends, and before I’ve never been so happy to tie six sashes.
And I’ve never been so grateful to receive

9

1200 YEN IS ABOUT “Wow, my girlfriend would love this
TWELVE DOLLARS. bag . . . ”

1200 yen. Best of all, my customers are My sister winks at me, and we smile as we
delighted with the results. get to work.

They start taking pictures, and as they AS WE PACK up that night, Sis remarks,
strike poses to show off their double bows, an
elderly woman in a gray kimono watches curi- “I’d say today was a success.”
ously. “What are those tourists doing?” “Me, too,” I reply, jingling my cash box.

“They’re just happy about their bows,” I Toward the festival’s end, a steady stream of
say and explain my adjustment service. yukata customers kept my hands busy and my
spirits flying.
Interest lights her eyes. “Only 200 yen?
Perhaps you can adjust my kimono then. The “I should’ve brought some decorative
restroom’s so crowded, and my arthritis is act- cords to offer as an extra option though,” I
ing up. Can you tie a drum-style knot?” add with a little regret. “Oh well, too late
now.”
“Absolutely!” I reply.
As I show her to the dressing room, a stu- “Maybe not.” Sis grins. “Things went so
dent in a rumpled yukata approaches. “Excuse well, I think I’ll do another festival. Care to
me?” he asks Sis. “I heard someone fixes join?”
yukata here.”
“Yes, she’s with another customer, but My heart leaps and I flash a big smile.
she’ll be done shortly. In the meantime, feel “Sis, I think we’re in business!”
free to look around the booth.”

10

Monarch
Metamorphosis

by Sandi Leibowitz

Among the frothy flowerets,
the broad, green avenues of leaf,
the towers of the milkweed stalks,
the caterpillar’s life is brief.

She fattens on the springtime greens,
then skin after skin after skin
divests herself of what’s outside
and focuses on what’s within.

Inside her chrysalis she sleeps.
Does she wake with triumph or surprise
to find that she no longer creeps
but unfurls new wings and flies?

text © 2020 by Sandi Leibowitz 11

BIBI IS A RESPECTFUL TITLE A RUPEE IS INDIAN MONEY.
FOR A WOMAN IN INDIA.

“ I F O N LY I ’ D been born in August, Kali. Roadside vendors noisily hawked their
colorful wares as a steady stream of devotees
HERE, HAWKED Papa would’ve been home with me on my made their way to the temple, its vermilion
MEANS SOLD birthday,” I said sadly. “Why does his army dome blazing against the clear blue June sky.
BY CALLING posting take him so far away from home?”
ALOUD IN “Khan, you sell the most expensive fruits
“You know Papa would be here if he in Shimla,” Mamma complained when we
PUBLIC. stopped at the fruit vendor’s stall.

could.” Mamma squeezed my hand gently. “They’re also the best, bibi,” smiled Khan,
a big, bearded man wearing a spotless white
“August is almost here, Raani. We’ll try mak- skullcap and kaftan while weighing a bunch of
ripe bananas and a handful of golden apples.
DEVOTEES ARE ing the most of your birthday without Papa.
WORSHIPERS Remember my promise?” My mouth watered at the sight of Khan’s
OR RELIGIOUS stock of succulent mangoes, but I held back
FOLLOWERS. “Of course, I do,” I said, cheering up from asking for them when I saw Mamma
carefully count out the money and pay Khan a
instantly. thin bundle of rupee notes.

We were walking down the crowded tem-

ple bazaar of Kalibari, the home of the goddess

VERMILION
IS BRIGHT

RED.

A Wish
for Kali

by Parul Sharma

12 Illustrated by Emma Shaw-Smith
text © 2020 by Parul Sharma, art © 2020 by Emma Shaw-Smith

As we neared Kalibari, closed, and lips moving in
I heard the nonstop clang
of temple bells as barefoot silent prayer.
worshipers made their
way in and out of the I inched closer to the
temple. Monkeys loitered
and lazed on the parapets goddess before folding my
along the temple’s sprawl-
ing terrace overlooking hands and shutting my eyes.
Shimla’s pine-covered
hills. As I entered the “O Kali,” I prayed, “it’s my
temple, the vapors of
burning incense tickled ninth birthday tomorrow.
my nostrils, and I curled
my bare toes against the Mamma promised we’ll
icy marble floor. The
dark-skinned, four-armed Kali—her eyes ablaze go to the Dollhouse today
with fury and her red tongue hanging out—sent
little shivers down my spine. I stared meekly at to buy me a present. This
the blood-drenched sword she held in one hand,
the severed head she held in another, and the will be my first visit to the
garland of skulls draped around her neck.
Dollhouse since Papa and I
I knew Kali’s story by heart. When the
demons warred with the gods to become masters walked past its window dur-
of the universe, and the gods stood on the brink
of defeat, they joined forces to give birth to the ing his last leave home. The
all-powerful Kali. Enraged with the wicked ways
of the demons, Kali single-handedly destroyed rich kids at school go there
them all and saved the gods from defeat.
all the time and say it’s full of
“Kali never fails her children,” Mamma
said whenever she recounted Kali’s story. “She amazing dolls of all shapes and sizes and colors.
loves and protects them and fulfills their deep-
est wishes.” But I already know which one I want. She sits

Mamma offered the fruits to a saffron- in the far corner of the store window and has
robed priest with an ash-smeared forehead
and stopped before Kali, her head bowed, eyes big brown eyes and thick curls and the loveli-

est smile ever. I’ve named her Saloni. I hope

Mamma has enough money to buy me Saloni.”

I took a deep breath and opened my eyes.

Kali glared back unblinkingly. While Mamma

continued to pray, I silently backed away from

Kali and circled the inner sanctum three times

while fervently repeating under my breath, “I

wish I get Saloni, I wish I get Saloni, I wish I

get Saloni. . . .”

On my way out the priest placed a tiny red

tilak on my forehead and offered me a generous PRASAD
helping of sticky-sweet prasad. “May Kali fulfill IS AN
all your wishes,” he said with a kind smile. OFFERING
OF FOOD IN
I was still savoring the prasad while idly HINDUISM.

watching the vista from the terrace when I

heard a loud shriek behind me. I turned in time

A PARAPET IS A PROTECTIVE SAFFRON IS A SANCTUM IS A TILAK IS A SPOT OF COLORED 13
WALL RAISED AT THE EDGE OF YELLOWISH SACRED OR HOLY POWDER OR PASTE WORN ON
ORANGE. THE FOREHEAD BY HINDUS AS
A BALCONY OR ROOF. PLACE.
A SIGN OF DEVOTION.



to see a fat monkey grab Mamma’s handbag as smelled it suspiciously before carelessly tossing
it lay on a parapet along the terrace. it away. Next came a face mirror. He stared
at himself from multiple angles and care-
“My bag!” shouted Mamma, waving fran- fully placed it back in the bag. A tube of lip
tically at the monkey as he leapt smoothly balm followed. He chewed it curiously and
from the parapet to the temple’s roof and threw it away in disgust. A pair of reading
nimbly made his way to the rooftop without glasses came next. He donned them and sur-
loosening his grip on the bag. veyed his surroundings with renewed interest
before getting rid of them unceremoniously.
A small crowd of temple goers gathered Meanwhile a troop of inquisitive fellow mon-
near Mamma. “Someone please rescue my keys joined him and began jostling for the bag.
bag,” she said, wringing her hands anxiously.
“I barely let go of it for one minute.” “My wallet!” Mamma suddenly exclaimed
as she saw the monkey holding up her bulky
The monkey clutched the bag like a red wallet. Without further ado he opened it
prized possession and watched the scene and pulled out a thick bundle of crisp hun-
below him with keen interest. A burly man dred-rupee notes. The crowd gasped. I saw the
hurled a stone at him. The monkey ducked tense lines on Mamma’s face turn to panic and
and smirked, baring his teeth viciously before ran to her, hugging her at her knees. Even as
hurling it back. The crowd shrieked and scat- we watched, the monkey tore apart the bundle,
tered. Many voices complained about Shimla’s letting the wind scatter several loose notes to
monkey problem. the far corners of the roof. As if on cue, the
entire troop of monkeys fell upon the wallet
“This monkey menace will have the and ransacked it, mercilessly tearing apart more
mayor booted out of office in the coming bundles of cash, tossing some notes to the wind
election,” cautioned a gray-haired gentleman and ripping others to smithereens.
sporting thick-rimmed glasses.
“That’s my entire month’s salary
A portly man standing next to him gone,” Mamma whispered, her face twisted
nodded in agreement. “It’s not as if the gov- painfully and her eyes welling up with tears.
ernment’s five-hundred-rupee reward for
catching a monkey has worked its magic.” I’d never seen Mamma cry. A painful
lump came to my throat and tears stung my
“I don’t know when the tourists will stop eyes. As I hugged Mamma tighter, warm tears
feeding these monkeys prasad and encourag- began to roll down my cheeks. “Shh,” she
ing them in their wild antics,” grumbled a whispered hugging me back. “Shh . . .”
middle-aged woman in a bright floral sari.
Suddenly I let go of Mamma and ran
Suddenly the monkey lost interest in the back inside the temple up to Kali. “O Kali,”
crowd. Turning to the bag, he unzipped it I prayed between broken sobs, “please make
with his dexterous fingers and began inspect-
ing its contents with studied deliberation.
Out came a wad of tissues. The monkey

PORTLY MEANS DEXTEROUS MEANS 15
RATHER HEAVY NIMBLE AND
SKILLFUL.
OR FAT.

Mamma OK again. Please make her stop “Happy birthday, my little Raani!” Papa
crying.” I’d run halfway to the door when beamed, scooping me up in his arms and
I turned around and raced back to Kali. planting several kisses on my cheeks.
Leaning close to her, I looked her in the eye
and whispered fiercely, “That’s my only wish.” “How’s that for a birthday surprise?”
Mamma asked, tickling my feet, her eyes
Later that afternoon we walked home in merry with laughter. “Papa was able to take
somber silence. The summer sun suddenly his leave early, after all.”
looked bleak, the sunshine tepid. Mamma
held me by the hand and clutched her tattered I looked at Mamma’s happy face, and my
bag in her other hand. She wasn’t crying. But heart soared. Kali had fulfilled my wish.
she wasn’t OK—not by a far measure.
That’s when I saw her from the top of
Had Kali been listening? Papa’s shoulder—sitting inside a gift-wrapped
plastic box with big brown eyes, thick curls,
N E X T M O R N I N G I opened my eyes and and the loveliest smile ever.
lay still, listening intently. “Happy birthday
to you!” Someone was whistling the perfect My Saloni.
tune. That whistle—I could recognize it from
miles away. “Papa!” I sprang out of bed and
dashed into the living room. “You’re back!”

Author’s Note My story is based on a true incident I
remember from my childhood. My mom and I were visiting the
famous temple of Kalibari one afternoon when, on our way out
from worshiping Kali, a huge ruckus broke out. A monkey had
taken off with a woman’s handbag. The monkey climbed the
temple’s rooftop, and a group of monkeys ransacked the bag
mercilessly, probably hoping to find food. It must have been
payday because I remember the panic on the woman’s face as
she wailed that her entire salary had been destroyed.

Today it is still common for monkeys to congregate
around temple premises. Temples are easy grounds for
getting food. Devotees usually visit temples with offer-
ings of fruits and exit temples with sweetmeats of prasad.
Monkeys have often been known to flee with the belong-
ings of visitors and not return them until bribed with
ample food.

16 TEPID MEANS BARELY
WARM.

Basant Panchami

The Hindu Festival of Kites

by Helen Zax

From dawn until dusk within the walls of Old Lahore
in the very heart of Pakistan
high above the domes of the Badshahi Mosque
the sky explodes with flying paper birds,
blues and greens and golds
trailing rainbow-colored tails and yellow ribbons.

Men fly kites from rooftop terraces
to the whistling, drums, and songs that echo
from the fruit- and flower-filled marketplace below
while women draped in saris the color of mustard fields in bloom
serve fragrant yellow rice with henna-painted hands
as beaded bangles click-click along their arms.

Small children dressed in yellow chant prayers
as they read and write their first words
to honor the Goddess Saraswati’s birthday,
then run into the narrow streets
kites dancing in the sky
to celebrate the coming of spring.

Illustrated by Nayantara Surendranath On the fifth day of spring, or Basant
Panchami, Hindus in Pakistan, India,
text © 2020 by Helen Zax, art © 2020 by Nayantara Surendranath and around the world wear bright
yellow clothes and eat foods made
with saffron to celebrate the birth of
the goddess of wisdom, Saraswati.
Kite flying is one of the main festival
attractions in Lahore, the capital of
the Pakistani Punjab Province.

17

The

GLIIRSTLEWNEHDO

with

HER FEET

by Eve Nadel Catarevas Laura and her teacher, Dr. Howe

In 1829, on a farm in Hanover, New collected nuts, berries, and flowers. Laura
loved sliding across frozen fields in winter.
Hampshire, a healthy baby girl was born When spring came, Asa placed baby animals
to Harmony and Daniel Bridgman. They in Laura’s hands so she could feel their vibra-
named her Laura. tions. They chirped, meowed, buzzed, and
bleated. With her fingers, Laura could tell
At two years old, Laura fell ill with scarlet that each made different sounds.
fever. When she finally recovered, she could
no longer hear or see, and most of her ability Laura invented hand signals to commu-
to smell and taste was gone. Her world was nicate. When she wanted to go somewhere,
silent and dark. she’d push her hands forward. Pulling them
toward her meant she wanted her mother
Laura’s fingers became her eyes and ears. or father to come. A pat on the back let her
She learned to identify objects by their tem- parents know she was unhappy. A tap on the
perature, texture, size, or weight. She knew head meant something was good!
which family members were approaching
by feeling the vibrations of their footsteps As Laura got older, she had more on her
through the floor. Laura was able to “listen” mind, and making herself understood became
with her feet. harder. Sometimes she became frustrated and
angry. The few hand signals she’d made up
Laura learned to bake, churn butter, and were no longer enough. Her parents realized
set the table by touching her mother’s arms
and hands as she worked. Going outdoors was
a thrilling adventure. An elderly neighbor,
Asa Tenney, spent hours each day guiding
and carrying Laura on walks across the farm
and through the woods. In the summer, they

text © 2020 by Eve Nadel Catarevas

18

Laura’s first letter home, which she wrote by placing
the paper over the grooved board behind it and using
two hands to carefully form each letter

their daughter needed more ways to tell them The globe with raised features that Laura used to demonstrate
what she wanted. her knowledge of geography to thousands of visitors at Perkins

When Laura was seven, James Barrett, Utterly confused about where she was
a student from nearby Dartmouth College, going, Laura arrived at Perkins with her par-
came to do bookkeeping for her father. Sitting ents after a four-day carriage ride. There, Laura
near Laura, he let her hold his watch, some was given a green silk ribbon to tie around her
shells, and other items he had in his pockets. head to cover her eyes. All Perkins students
James stared as Laura explored these curiosi- wore them because their eyes were often con-
ties with her fingers. She opened and wound sidered unattractive. Laura panicked when her
the pocket watch, unscrewed and reassembled parents left without her. “At the very moment
a pencil case, and studied each item with deep
concentration.

Laura’s inquisitiveness made such an
impression on James that he asked his col-
lege professor Dr. Reuben Mussey to meet
her. When Mussey saw Laura knitting and
sewing, sharing a piece of fruit with her little
brother, and communicating with her parents
with hand signals, he got very excited. At that
time, deaf-blind children were considered
hopelessly lost to society—unable to learn,
with no spark of intelligence, and worthless to
try to educate. Mussey saw Laura as an exam-
ple of just how wrong this thinking was.

A newspaper article Mussey wrote about
Laura caught the attention of Dr. Samuel
Gridley Howe, head of the Perkins Institution
for the Blind, the first school for blind children
in America. Howe could hardly believe what he
read. “We’ve never had a student who was blind
and deaf!” he exclaimed. “I must meet her.”
Within moments of observing Laura, Howe
recognized her intelligence and convinced
Laura’s parents to let he become a pupil at the
Perkins School in Boston, Massachusetts.

19

Before the moods by the way they took her hand, or by
Braille system of running her fingertips across their faces.
dot writing, books for
the blind were printed Howe developed a lesson plan hoping
using raised letters. he could teach Laura to communicate in
Here Laura helps to English, rather than using her simple signs.
teach another deaf- He pasted paper labels onto familiar objects
blind student at Perkins. like a key, a spoon, and a cup. The labels had
the name of each item printed in raised let-
that I lost them, I burst in bitterest tears,” she ters. Laura touched the words and the objects
later wrote. to which the labels were attached. Eventually,
she was able to match the label—chosen from
But Laura adjusted to her new surround- a mixed pile—with the correct item. Then
ings quickly. She eagerly explored hallways, Dr. Howe gave her individual letters, which
classrooms, the kitchen, and her bedroom. she combined to spell the words she’d learned.
“Her little hands were continually stretched
out,” Howe observed, “and her tiny fingers in Fingerspelling was next. Howe taught
constant motion, like the feelers of an insect.” Laura a different finger position for each let-
ter of the alphabet, then placed his fingers
A cheerful, friendly child, Laura was soon into Laura’s open hand as he formed letters to
able to identify each of the forty other stu- spell words. Within months, Laura was talk-
dents and teachers by the vibrations of their ing with her fingers!
footsteps, a touch of a hand, or the feel of
their clothes. Laura, who had not learned to Able to communicate for the first time,
speak more than a few words because of her Laura laughed with joy and embraced her
deafness, made a different sound for everyone teachers. Bursting with curiosity, she exhausted
she knew. Laura could even sense people’s her teachers with endless questions as her
vocabulary grew: “Why do flies not have
names, like boys and girls do? Is the worm
afraid when the hen eats him? Why can’t we
sail to the sun in boats? What color is think?”

When she was ten years old, Laura also
learned to write. A sheet of paper was placed
over a board that had grooved lines across it.
Feeling the grooves through the paper, Laura
used them as guides to print her letters in a
straight line. She joyfully wrote her first let-
ter home to her mother, and later kept a daily
journal and corresponded with many friends.

20 WOW! AMAZING WHAT HUMAN BEANS CAN A TRULY CAN-DO
DO, WHEN THEY PUT THEIR MINDS TO IT. ATTITUDE.

Blind students in a science class at Perkins. Being deaf
sometimes made it difficult for Laura to interact easily
with other blind children who could speak and hear.

At Perkins, Laura took classes in read- spell. One of her students was Annie Sullivan,
ing, writing, grammar, geography, arithmetic, who decades later would teach Helen Keller,
astronomy, and history. She knitted, cro- another famous deaf-blind person
cheted, and sewed, using the tip of her tongue who helped change the way the
to find the eye of the needle. world saw people with disabilities.

Articles about Laura appeared everywhere— Laura helped with housework,
in newspapers, magazines, and books. rang the wake-up bell, and served
Author Charles Dickens visited Laura on Sunday tea. She spent her free
his American tour and devoted a chapter time writing letters to family and
of his book American Notes to her. By the friends, reading her Bible, and
time she was a teenager, Laura was said to writing poems. Laura lived in a
be the most famous person in the world, cottage at Perkins for the rest of
second only to Queen Victoria of England. her life, until her death in 1889 at
Little girls in every country were tying green age fifty-nine.
ribbons over the eyes of their dolls and calling
them Laura. Thousands flocked to Perkins Laura Bridgman was the first
to watch Laura’s fingers dance across the deaf-blind person to learn to read
palm of her teacher’s hand, and to marvel and write a language, paving
as the remarkable deaf-blind girl wrote the way for future generations of
compositions, solved math problems, and children with disabilities to com-
pointed out places on a huge wooden globe. municate their ideas and
feelings, receive an
Laura’s education ended when she was education, and
twenty. She earned money by selling purses find a place for
and handkerchiefs she made in the Perkins themselves in
shop, and by helping others sew and finger- the world.

Samples of Laura’s crocheting
and intricate lace making

Riddles for April Fools

BY RACHEL LOTT

Challenge yourself and your friends this April Fools’ Day with
these brain-teasing riddles. You’ll find the answers on page 47.

RIDDLES, GOODY! OH, REALLY?
I’M THE WORLD’S THESE LOOK

BEST RIDDLE PRETTY
SOLVER. TOUGH...

I’m not an animal, and yet I eat. No eye has seen me,
I’m not a plant, and yet I grow. But no eye can see
I leap and dance, but have no feet. Without me. I’m a thing
I have a tongue, but not a toe. And not a thing. I pass
Soul-like through jeweled stone
I’m not a seed, and yet I sprout. And glass.
A sudden wind can raise me high. I’m not a ghost—
A sudden rain can put me out. No ghost goes giving life to grass!
I have no life, and yet I die. Green things grow great in me.
I have a source,
I’m not a mineral, and yet I’m struck I ripple like a stream.
From dust and ash. In times of old I have no end except infinity.
Had men not forced me from the rock, Things in themselves
Their hearts would still be dark and cold. All formless and unknown,
I show.
I am the halo of things seen.

text © 2020 by Rachel Lott NOBODY CAN LEAP AND IMPOSSIBLE? TOO BAD! WE’LL
DANCE WITH NO FEET! HAVE TO QUIT THOSE
22 THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE! BALLROOM DANCING

LESSONS.

HAVE YOU SOLVED I’M THINKING,
ANY RIDDLES YET? I’M THINKING!

I only appear We see it every day.
Once in a year. Kings hardly see it ever.
Wherever you seek, And God, who sits on high,
I’m twice in a week. Will surely see it never.
And I’m sorry to say
I’m not once in a day.

Rattlebone, Rattlebone, where have you been?
To battle, to battle with all the King’s men.

How many scuttle-rats died in the war?
So many that no one could make it twice more.

Then many are dead!
Not many—so few

That no one can split their number in two.
How many scuttle-rats died?

I never lie. I always tell the truth. TRY THIS ONE:
My tongue is forked. I twist it for effect. WHAT HAS SPOTS
I only whisper what you always knew. BUT CAN’T SOLVE
I always tell you what you least expect.
I am a serpent eating its own tail. RIDDLES?
I am a maze beginning at its end.
I take you to the last galactic swirl
And leave you at the heart of things again.

GRRRRRR.

23

The RED JUNGLEFOWL
in the

FAIRY TEACUP
by Yanting Gueh

MIN WAS USED to unexpected visitors at of the curry dip. She knew what Mother
would say, though: “Too greasy! Not good for
the amusement park where Grandpa worked. health.”

Once, there was a yellow stray dog napping Which was why they rarely bought it
for Grandpa, even though it was his favorite
in a train car. Another time, a nonvenomous food.

NONVENOMOUS snake slithered among horses on the carousel, Min hurried. From across the road she
MEANS NOT as if introducing itself and making friends. waved to Grandpa, who was standing at the
POISONOUS. And last week, a homeless man spent an gates. Hilda’s Adventure Park was an old and
small amusement park in Central Singapore
evening reciting Chinese poetry on the that people rarely visited nowadays. Bigger,
more exciting ones like Universal Studios and
pirate swing ship. All of them fled upon indoor playgrounds had stolen the crowd.
There, new rides brought shrieks and peals
discovery. The homeless man even muttered of laughter. Here, slow rides came with
rusty screws and peeled paint. The carousel
an apology. groaned as if the horses suffered from joint
pain, and the cracked fairy teacups clattered
What Min wasn’t used to, however, was a and clanked.

pecking, endangered visitor that wasn’t at all The park owner, Hilda, was ninety years
old. She refused to sell the park that her late
sorry and preferred a sleepover instead. husband had built. “It must remain as long as
I’m alive, even if it means having no visitors!”
It began the same way it always had—
Grandpa often responded, “Respecting a
with Min bringing Grandpa dinner. In the person’s wish, no matter how silly, is impor-
tant.” Hence, he and Mr. Lee were hired to
past, Mother came with her, but now that she guard the empty park.

was eleven, independence sizzled in her spine. Min arranged Grandpa’s dinner out on a
small table. There was rice, steamed broccoli,
“It’s just three blocks away, and Grandpa

A TIFFIN will watch me cross the road. I’ll be fine!”
CARRIER Mother had silently consented.
Min now swished her tiffin carrier gently
IS A
STACKED, as she passed a Chinese coffee shop, a hair
METAL salon, a tuition center, and an ice-cream café.
LUNCHBOX When she came to the last shop of the row,

USED
WIDELY IN

ASIA.

Prata Palace, she took a big whiff.

Roti prata is an aromatic Indian flatbread

that’s tossed into the air then fried on a flat

grill. Min’s cheeks soured at the pungency

24 Illustrated by Lucia Sforza PUNGENCY MEANS A FAIRY TEACUP IS AN AMUSEMENT
text © 2020 by Yanting Gueh, art © 2020 by Lucia Sforza SPICINESS. PARK RIDE WHERE YOU SPIN AROUND IN

LARGE TEACUPS.
WHEEE!

lean pork in dark soy sauce, and corn and car- Min grinned. The park was kept mostly
rot soup. in darkness. Behind it was a small for-
est. Despite this, Min was unafraid of the
For the briefest moment, Grandpa’s face fell. shadows and silent rides. Stooping to check
“Lean pork is less fatty than pork belly,” beneath the ship and inside the train cars, she
Min repeated Mother’s explanation. “Also, the made her way toward the fairy teacups next.
carrots are good for your sight.”
Grandpa smiled. That was when a noise pierced the
Min grabbed his big flashlight and chirped, stillness.
“Eat up, Grandpa. I’ll make the rounds for
you.” As a St. John Ambulance Brigade cadet, Not a snore.
she was trained to help out wherever she could. Not a scuttle.
“Don’t scare off my mysterious visitors. More like someone gargling.
They just need to borrow the park for a short Min shone the flashlight into a cup.
while.” He winked. Sitting there, a feathery creature glared back
with small, round eyes. It had a striking red

ST. JOHN AMBULANCE BRIGADE IS A 25
FIRST-AID CHARITY. YOUNG PEOPLE
CAN SIGN UP TO HELP AS A CADET, OR

STUDENT VOLUNTEER.

BROOD MEANS YOUR “Ow!”
OWN KIND OR FAMILY. “Min?” Grandpa called from behind.
When he saw their mysterious visitor, he
comb, a golden yellow neck, and a long, arch- chuckled. “A red junglefowl! I haven’t seen
ing tail with feathers that shimmered streaks one of these since my childhood in the
of blue and green. “A chicken?” Min blurted. village.”
“Red junglefowl?”
Yet, this one was bigger and more “The ancestor of all chickens. They often
majestic. roamed around the forests when I was your
age. Sometimes the males would fight over
“How did you get here? Shouldn’t you be the females. My pa—your great-grandpa—
asleep in the forest?” she whispered. used to bring me to watch them. They’d go

Bob, bob, cluck. It continued glaring at round after round, like boxers,
her. scrutinizing each other, flap-
ping and sparring.” Grandpa’s
“Go back to your brood!” she shooed gray eyes glistened.
It flapped its wings as if shooing back.
Then it pecked Min’s hand. Min mumbled, “They’re
pretty violent.”

Grandpa rubbed the red-
dening spot on her hand.
“They’re not dangerous. But
they can turn fierce if they
feel attacked.”

Be friendlier, Min told
herself. She tapped her flash-
light on the ground and
pointed to a path that led
to the forest. “Here, chicky,
chicky,” she coaxed in her best
babyish voice.

The red junglefowl gave a
strangled cry in disgust.

“Why won’t she return to
the forest?”

“He. Only male jungle-
fowls have combs and such

26

brilliant colors. The hens are smaller and Feeling safe enough, the junglefowl finally
brown.” Grandpa clucked his tongue. Slightly hobbled out. He pecked at the corn kernels.
appeased, the red junglefowl stopped flap- Gobble. Gobble. As soon as he finished, he
ping. Still, he kept his wary eyes on the hobbled back into his teacup.
humans and hobbled to the other side of the
teacup. Min placed another handful of kernels
on the same spot. She returned to where
That was how Min spotted the dried Grandpa was. The junglefowl hobbled out
blood smeared on one of his feet. “He’s again.
injured!”
Round after round they went, till they got
Grandpa squinted. “Quite a cut there. He to the last few kernels.
must have fought with another junglefowl or
a stray cat. Or perhaps he was jabbed by a This time, Min stayed right beside the
branch.” food. The junglefowl glared at the girl, who
didn’t budge. He flapped his wings.
“We need to treat that wound soon or
predators will smell the blood on him.” Min “Come on,” she said under her breath.
wondered if the foul-tempered fowl would Grumbling, he hobbled out of the teacup
let them. She was a top-performing cadet in once more.
first-aid skills, but she’d never treated a wild Bob, bob, bob. Peck, gobble, gobble. Peck,
creature before. gobble, gobble.
Pride filled Grandpa’s voice. “You’ve
“We could try feeding him and get closer gained his trust.”
first.” Grandpa took a cob of corn from his Min beamed.
unfinished soup and tried to lure the jungle- “And now to treat the wound. I can ban-
fowl out. The junglefowl looked at it but dage him quickly if you grab him, Grandpa!”
remained motionless. Right away, she regretted suggesting it. The
junglefowl would peck them till they bled!
“Maybe he doesn’t like corn? What else Grandpa stroked her forehead. “We’ll give
can we feed him?” Min asked. Without warn- it a go. Respecting one’s wish, no matter how
ing, guilt pecked at her like the junglefowl silly, is important.”
had. Grandpa didn’t enjoy corn either, but she “What if he pecks us?”
had never asked him what else he would like. “We’ll take precautions.” Grandpa fetched
his thick rubber work gloves, a blanket he
“They aren’t picky. Whatever is on the used for colder nights, and a first-aid box.
ground, they’ll eat: worms, nuts, seeds.” “When I was a small boy, I used to catch hens
and roosters in the village. The technique for
Min prayed she wouldn’t have to catch catching a junglefowl should be the same.”
worms. “Maybe he needs some space?” She “What do we do first?”
plucked a few kernels and placed them on
the ground outside the teacup. Then she and
Grandpa retreated a few steps.

27

“Gain his trust.” hand, Grandpa tricked him into falling asleep
They smiled at each once more.
other. Min had already
accomplished that. Now both eyes were closed.
Grandpa continued, Min released a quiet sigh and went to
“We wait till he’s asleep.” work. She splashed distilled water on a cleans-
Junglefowls roost at ing wipe and cleaned the dried blood on his
night. It didn’t take long feet. Then she dabbed antiseptic cream on the
for this one to doze off cut to prevent infection. Round and round
after a meal. However, the bandages went, finishing with a perfect
he slept with one eye knot.
open. Grandpa said “I haven’t tied it too tightly so Chicky can
roosters sometimes did peck the cloth away later on his own,” she
that to watch out for told Grandpa.
danger.
They crept around
to the side where the
eye was closed. Grandpa
put on his gloves and
held up his blanket.
They inched toward
the junglefowl. All this
time, Min held her
breath. Sweat and jitters trickled down her
back.
With a swift scoop, Grandpa covered the
creature and clamped him by the wings so he
couldn’t flap them.
SQUAWK!
The cry reverberated through the park.
Min was sure the diners at Prata Palace had
heard it. What if they called the police?
Grandpa focused on the junglefowl
instead. He caressed the area around the
eyes and comb, soothing the creature till he
relaxed. Covering the creature’s eyes with his

28 I’D BE A GOOD NURSE. YOUR FIRST AID MIGHT BE THE
NOBUGGY WOULD DARE DEATH OF ME.

NOT GET BETTER!

“Chicky?” Min gazed at the ruffled bushes and
They bit their lips to suppress giggles. imagined Chicky flying back to his family.
Gently, they set him back on his favorite spot Would he remember spending the night at
in the teacup and removed the blanket. He an amusement park? Would he remember
slept on. the girl who fed him corn? She wished she’d
“Hilda’s park is quite the attraction for shouted a parting message. Something wise,
odd visitors,” Grandpa said, lines of amuse- like “Peck less. Fly more!”
ment crimpling his face.
Wanting to make sure Chicky was OK, Maybe we should all peck less and enjoy
Min called home and told Mother she’d be flying more, she thought and glanced up at
spending the night at the park. “I’ll keep Grandpa. Wriggling her fingers into his warm
Grandpa company. It’s Friday night, anyway. hand, she said, “Want to get breakfast? Your
No, no extra lessons tomorrow. Don’t worry, favorite food?”
we’ll be fine.” After Grandpa locked the gates,
they curled up in another teacup. She rested Grandpa raised his eyebrows.
her head on Grandpa’s lap, the way she used “Respecting one’s wish, no matter how
to, and drifted off under Grandpa’s watch. greasy, is important. Well, just for one meal,”
Later in her dream, somebody pecked she explained.
at her hand. The pecks became sharper and Grandpa’s face lit up and they burst into
sharper. laughter. After Mr. Lee arrived, they crossed
She woke up, and found Chicky staring to Prata Palace hand-in-hand. Their shift
at her. was over.
Bob, bob, bob. He hobbled out of Min’s
teacup, past the pirate swing ship, and out A red junglefowl
toward the field.
Min rubbed her eyes and followed. Light
blue and yellow streaks in the sky announced
the approach of dawn.
Before he reached the tall bushes, Chicky
flapped his wings as if bidding goodbye. With
a high-pitched, strangled cock-a-doodle-doo, he
ran a few steps, spread his wings, and lifted off.
“Junglefowls can fly,” Min gasped.
“They certainly can.” Grandpa stood
behind her. “Not high, and only for a short
distance. But they can.”

29

LISTEN I’VE GOT ONE JUST
TO THIS! THAT’S EVEN READ!

BETTER!

“In a hole in the “Michael “Look, I didn’t want to
ground there lived a laughed aloud, be a half-blood.”

hobbit.” and his own THE LIGHTNING THIEF (Percy
l aught er Jackson and the Olympians, Book 1)
THE HOBBIT; OR THERE AND
BACK AGAIN by J. R. R. Tolkien sounded like the by Rick Riordan
ringing of bells
submitted by Diana W. of Beijing, China, submitted by Queen Moonshadow
and Allison M. Schmelzle of Seneca, KS in his e ars.” of Sunnyvale, CA

“I’ve always THE CHESTRY OAK by Kate Seredy “If you are interested
been fond of in stories with happy
birds, poultry in submitted by Amelia Busing endings, you would be
particul ar.” of Seattle, WA better off reading some

THE GREAT TURKEY WALK “Not for the first other book.”
by Kathleen Karr time, an argument
had broken out over THE BAD BEGINNING: OR,
submitted by Annie Powell breakfast at number ORPHANS! (A Series of Unfortunate
of Alpharetta, GA four, Privet Drive.”
Events, Book 1) by Lemony Snicket
“I don’t remember the HARRY POTTER AND THE
moment that changed my CHAMBER OF SECRETS (Harry submitted by Aiyla Syed of Asbury, NJ

life four years ago.” Potter, Book 2) by J. K. Rowling “There was a boy
called Eustace Clarence
THE MISCALCULATIONS OF submitted by Adah H. via email Scrubb, and he almost
LIGHTNING GIRL
by Stacy McAnulty deserved it.”

submitted by Caroline A. Percival THE VOYAGE OF THE DAWN
of San Antonio, TX TREADER (The Chronicles of Narnia)

by C. S. Lewis

submitted by Alizarine
via Blab About Books, Chatterbox

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30 Or send your favorite first sentence to: [email protected]

Waiting
g for g
Elijah
by Susan Gabbay

OUTSIDE, IN THE half light of

evening, the city of Basra spreads between the
two rivers of Iraq. In all the houses where Jews
live, we are waiting for Elijah. The prophet
lived long, long ago, but at Passover we open
the door for him in hopes that he is coming
back to bring peace.

Today Cousin Meir and I (my name is
Jacob) are studying the Haggadah, the stories
about Moses we recite at the Seder table every
year. I am bored and notice a fly coming in
the window. It buzzes around the old teacher’s
head. I keep quiet about the fly. If Meir sees
it, we will giggle, and the teacher will crack
our knuckles with his ruler.

The teacher jumps up. “Go on, go on! You
boys are impossible! Only three days to the
Seder and still making mistakes in every line!
Useless to try to teach you anything!” He gath-
ers up our Haggadahs and mutters himself out.

We always know our recitations by the time
of the Seder, so we aren’t worried. We head for
the kitchen to watch Aunties Regina and Sabiha
making matzahs, hundreds of them. Great bags
of special flour stand here and there, and stacks
of the crisp matzah circles grow taller on the
shelves. Mother is sitting at the table instead of
helping, because she will have a baby soon after

Illustrated by Yevgenia Nayberg AT PASSOVER, JEWS CELEBRATE SEDER IS THE CEREMONIAL 31
HOW MOSES LED THEM OUT OF DINNER AT PASSOVER.
text © 2020 by Susan Gabbay, art © 2020 by Yevgenia Nayberg BONDAGE IN EGYPT AS RECORDED

IN THE BOOK OF EXODUS.

MATZAH IS FLAT Passover and she sometimes doesn’t feel well. I hope she will be able to be with
BREAD EATEN AT us at the Seder! Would Passover even come if Mother doesn’t light the candles?
SEDER. IT’S FLAT
BECAUSE THE JEWS My sisters are busy. Juliet is washing the Passover dishes, and Nazima is
polishing our holiday silverware.
HAD TO LEAVE
EGYPT SO QUICKLY We can hear voices from the courtyard and the clatter of game pieces
THEY COULD NOT as Father and Uncle Sion play backgammon, again and again. Grandfather
watches. Drifting in on the breeze is the sharp smell of one of his endless
WAIT FOR THE chain of Turkish cigarettes. Grandmother, ironing the Seder tablecloths,
BREAD TO RISE. BUT waves away the smoke. Auntie Regina brings tea and fruit to Grandmother,
who samples it while her iron is heating on the fire.
IT’S STILL GOOD!
Next morning Grandfather wakes me to go to the market with him, as
we do every day. He buys bags and baskets of fruits and vegetables. Today he
is waiting at the door, talking to Mahmoud, our doorkeeper. “No baby yet,”
he tells Mahmoud. “We are hoping she will not have it in the middle of the
Seder!” They both laugh. Mahmoud sits outside our door all day in his shiny
boots, wide pantaloons, and white turban, with a rifle across his lap. He has
never used it, but he is always ready to discourage housebreakers and thieves.

Mahmoud pinches my cheek. “Better get going!” he says, “Your grand-
father wants to beat all the other grandfathers to the freshest fruit!”

I run after Grandfather, thinking about what he had said to Mahmoud.
What if Mother was not feeling well? The Seder would not be the same
without the whole family there, especially Mother.

When we turn the corner, we lose ourselves in the sights, sounds, and
smells of the market. I see a man in a striped robe, bargaining for shiny purple
eggplants. Another man has filled a basket with greeny-gold melons. A smelly
old donkey pushes his way between the tables. Voices argue and bargain about
the prices.

Grandfather has made his choices, and I know that Passover is very
near. Grandfather is coming home with me to choose chickens from our
coop instead of going to the cafe.

On the morning of Seder day, Father and Uncle Sion carry the kitchen
table into the front room and put it beside the good table already there.
I watch Grandmother spread the cloths she had ironed so carefully. Her
wrinkled hands smooth the cloths as she turns to me. “Jacob, get the silver
and put it on the table. Your mother isn’t able to help. Don’t you muss these
tablecloths, or you will iron them again!”

There it is again—Mother isn’t able to help. I set out the silver and the
candlesticks. It won’t be Passover if Mother doesn’t light the candles. Juliet

32

sets out the plates and the wine cups. The silver cup is for Elijah, to be filled
when we open the door for him. I want Mother to be here if he should come.

The sun is setting, and Passover brightness is around us. We are all
here, except Mother and Auntie Sabiha. Auntie Regina lights the candles.
My throat fills with tears so that my voice doesn’t come out. Since I am
not chanting, I can hear Grandfather’s voice weaving through the melo-
dies, blending with Father’s voice, and Uncle Sion’s.

Time to pour Elijah’s wine. “Jacob, open the door for Elijah,” says
Father. Before I get back to my seat, Auntie Sabiha comes down the stairs
carrying a bundle in her arms.

33

“Look who’s here,” she says to Father.
“It’s Elijah!” I shout. Everyone laughs and claps hands as Auntie
Sabiha shows my new little brother to us all.
Father gets up from the table and goes to see Mother. In a few minutes
he is back and tells the rest of us we can see her tomorrow. “We will have our
meal as we always do. Auntie Sabiha will take food for Mother and herself.”
Auntie Regina begins to serve the chicken, with the eggplant and
tomato that Grandfather had bought, and the date syrup that is my favorite.
Passover has come, after all!

AUTHOR’S NOTE My story is based on my husband’s memories of growing
up in Iraq in the 1930s. There is no longer a Jewish community in Iraq, as most
Jews left in the 1950s due to persecution.

The prophet Elijah was seen as the champion of the downtrodden. It is tra-
ditional to pour a glass of wine during the Seder for Elijah and to open the door
for him in the hope that the prophet will return, bringing peace.

34

Across

1. Rolls of papyrus used for writing

3. Fertile area at the mouth of a river

7. Short for Tutankhamen

8. Smallest component of an element

10. Common suffix

13. Longest river in the world

15. Cleopatra was of Egypt

17. The Nile River flows south north

18. Frequency modulation (abbreviation)

19. A stone coffin

22. Opposite of she

24. Ancient Egyptians believed the and the

ka were parts of the soul

26. Capital of Egypt LOOKS 12 3 45
27. Small island ALMOST
29. es Salaam REGAL, 9
30. Aroma DOESN’T 13 14

HE? 17

32. is the hieroglyph for 6 21
23
34. African country just south of Egypt 78
29
35. The Great of Giza 10 11 12 33

15 16

Down 18

1. Egyptian figure with lion’s body and human head 19 20

2. Opposite of in 22

4. Farthest boundary 24 25 26

5. Axlike tool 27 28

6. Sun god of ancient Egypt 30 31 32

9. Opposite of off

11. The pyramids and Sphinx are located in this region 34 35

12. Ancient capital of Egypt; also city in Tennessee Solution on page 47

14. Pyramid builders hauled stone blocks up ramps

lined with 23. Sheet wrapped around corpse

16. Flying saucer 25. Read the story so everyone can hear

19. Short for siblings 27. Egyptian goddess of fertility, married to Osiris

20. Female possessive word 28. Editor (abbreviation)

21. Canopic jars were to store a mummy’s 31 Do, , mi

internal organs 33. Short for estimated time of arrival MEWY
TICKLE
WAIT UNTIL TICKLE!
HE OPENS HIS
35
MOUTH.

T were among the

earliest inventors of writing. At first writing was mostly used to celebrate
victories, fix boundaries, establish laws and prayers, and count taxes and
goods. Texts telling of kings and battles were often engraved on stone,
but for the equivalent of our books, accounts, and letters, a material
quicker to write on and easier to transport was needed. Because no
papyrus grew in that part of the world, and neither paper nor parchment
had been invented, most writing—or rather scratching with a reed—was
done on clay tablets.

Scribes marked wet clay tablets with special seals to prove that they
were truly from this or that king, priest, or merchant. Though often made
from different materials and in various shapes, seals had one thing in
common: the figures they showed—gods, goddesses, and their symbols—
were always engraved “in hollow” so that their imprint on the clay table
would project from the background like a bas-relief.

Since serpents are symbols of one of the oldest goddesses and are easy
to carve, why not make a Babylonian serpent seal of your own?

figure 1 What You’ll Need: knitting needle or twig about
figure 2 newspapers 5 inches long
aluminum foil or plastic wrap
figure 3 knife several toothpicks, matches, or nails
self-hardening clay of different diameters
36
bowl of water
clean rag (to dry your fingers

when needed)

What to Do: figure 4
1. Spread newspapers on work surface and cover with a sheet of plastic wrap figure 5
figure 6
or foil. Wet the knife and cut a 1-inch cube of clay. Cover the rest of the
clay with plastic wrap so it stays soft. Roll your lump of clay until it’s about
1½ inches long and trim its ends so it resembles a cylinder (figure 1).
2. Pass the knitting needle or twig lengthwise through the cylinder, making a
hole slightly bigger than the needle itself so it can be taken out easily later
on (figure 2). Let cylinder harden for an hour or two, until the clay does not
easily lose its shape when handled.
3. Decide how you’d like to design your seal. Shown here are some designs
to inspire you (figure 3). Keeping the cylinder on the knitting needle, use
toothpick, match, or nails to engrave your design on it. Use larger nails for
serpent (its eye is a slightly deeper hole) and smaller nails or toothpick for
tree and stars (figure 4). The lines you engrave should be cleanly cut. Wet
your finger to erase any irregularities (figure 5). Once you are satisfied with
your work, let the cylinder harden for a day or two.
4. When your cylinder is completely dry, take it off the needle. Flatten another
lump of clay and roll your seal over it (figure 6). Do you like the relief it
leaves?

You can make your cylinder seal into a pendant by threading a
ribbon through it. If you varnish a decorated clay tablet, you can glue
it onto a box lid for a special present. Once you’ve mastered the serpent
seal, try imprinting small hard objects such as tiny shells, buttons, or
seeds on a clay cylinder. The possibilities are endless!

37

FALSE IMPRESSIONS

Part 3

Upon the death of his father, the slave Nabi- Hammurabi of Babylon. Kirum, Zarriqum’s
sin must leave the kitchens of his master, where adopted daughter, escorts Nabi-sin to his new
his father had been embellisher, or cook. His home and gives him an amber stone with a
master apprentices Nabi-sin to Zarriqum, slave fire-bug trapped inside. Nabi-sin is delighted to
and royal seal cutter to the household of King learn that his master’s son, Mar-eshtar, works
with Zarriqum. As boys, Nabi-sin and Mar-
eshtar pretended they were the hero Gilgamesh
and his companion Enkidu looking for adven-
ture. One day they swore a blood oath to remain
friends forever, but Mar-eshtar gouged himself
severely with the knife, and Nabi-sin’s father
came to their rescue. Now Mar-eshtar is a royal
scribe in King Hammurabi’s service.

One day the ambassador of Mari gives
Zarriqum, the seal cutter, an expensive bowl
as a gift. Although the ambassador has been
sent as an envoy of peace to King Hammurabi’s
court, he seems to enjoy ridiculing the people of
Babylon, and Nabi-sin does not like him. Late
one night Nabi-sin overhears the ambassador
plotting with Zarriqum and Kirum to forge
the seal of King Hammurabi. The ambassador
will use the seal to make an official impression
on a clay tablet that looks like a decree from
Hammurabi, ordering his armies against Mari.
The king of Mari, thinking that Hammurabi
has broken the peace, will attack Babylon.
Caught unawares, the city of Babylon will fall.

Alarmed, Nabi-sin creeps back to his sleep-
ing mat and prays to Sin the moon god for
wisdom and protection.

by Christy Lenzi AN ENVOY IS A DIPLOMAT, HERE, FORGE MEANS TO
REPRESENTATIVE, OR FAKE OR FALSIFY.
38 Illustrated by Barr y Wilkinson MESSENGER.

AS SOON AS Shamash the sun appeared, I Kirum and her father were examining

was waiting for Mar-eshtar outside. I saw him the partially finished lapis lazuli seal she had
when he was still some distance away and ran
to greet him. begun the evening before. She must have

“Mar-eshtar, we need to talk!” I was ner- worked all night; the dark blue seal of King
vous and out of breath.
Hammurabi had some of the most beautiful LAPIS
“Nabi-sin, you look like a shade of the engravings I had ever seen. Kirum seemed LAZULI
Netherworld. What has happened?” exhausted. I turned away so I wouldn’t have
to look at her dark hair escaping from behind IS A
I didn’t know where to begin. “The ambas- her ears and falling softly against her face. DEEP-BLUE
sador of Mari—he designs evil for the king!” I couldn’t figure out which was worse: the MINERAL
I took a deep breath and tried to slow down. knowledge that she was deceiving me, or USED AS A
“He is a traitor. Instead of maintaining peace GEM. SAY
between the two cities, as he was sent here IT: LAP-IS
to do, he plans the destruction of Babylon! LAZ-OO-
Somehow he has managed to pull Zarriqum
into his plot.” I couldn’t bring myself to LEE.
include Kirum’s name. I expected horror to
appear on Mar-eshtar’s face, but his eyes only the thought of exposing her deceit. When
widened, and he chuckled in disbelief.
it was time to tell Mar-eshtar everything, I
“Come, Nabi-sin, is this the new adven-
ture you have planned for us?” knew I would keep Kirum’s name out of it.

I didn’t know how to make him see the I tried not to think of what might happen to
urgency of the situation. I looked him in the
eye. “I swear a solemn oath,” I replied gravely. Zarriqum when Mar-eshtar told the king.

Mar-eshtar looked over his shoulder, then It was impossible to keep my mind on
whispered, “I believe you. We can’t talk now—I
just saw the ambassador nearby, chatting with my work. They were all acting as if noth-
a group of palace officials. He may come to see
Zarriqum. Let’s behave as if all is well, and you ing out of the ordinary were going on—as
can tell me everything this evening.”
if plots of treason against one’s king were an
I breathed a great sigh of relief, and we
walked back to the workroom. I was feeling everyday sort of occurrence. I tried to respond
increasingly confident about my decision to
tell Mar-eshtar. He would certainly know to Zarriqum’s few instructions in a natural
what to do. Maybe he could even talk with
Zarriqum and get him to change his mind. way but found it almost impossible to keep

my voice from shaking. He didn’t appear to

notice. He and Kirum both seemed deeply

immersed in their own work and rarely spoke.

People of the court came in and out of the

workroom, ordering seals, picking out stones,

and dictating inscriptions for Mar-eshtar to

record. If Mar-eshtar’s heart was pounding as

swiftly as mine, he gave no indication of it.

Repeatedly pressing his wooden scribe’s stick

into a piece of clay, he calmly wrote signs as

quickly as the words were spoken.

By midday, things had slowed down con-

siderably. The sun god, Shamash, plodded

HERE, SHADE MEANS A 39
GHOST, OR SPIRIT OF THE

AFTERLIFE.

along through his sky, seemingly uncon- “I know of your plot, Ambassador!” I
cerned. If only it were evening and I could blurted. “I know everything, and you disgust
talk with Mar-eshtar! After what seemed like me!” My own words, erupting with such force,
a lifetime, the shadows became long on the left me amazed and flustered.
path outside the workroom, and the stream of
courtiers trickled away. In my mind, I began The ambassador flinched, and Zarriqum
to prepare the words I would speak to Mar- sat down as if in shock. I couldn’t bear to look
eshtar when we were free to leave. at Kirum but turned to Mar-eshtar, hoping
he would say something. Anything. He only
My thoughts were interrupted by the in- stood there, looking anxiously at the ambassa-
furiating sound of the ambassador’s nasal voice dor. The ambassador let out a screeching laugh
as he strutted through the door. “Ah, the hustle and slapped his thigh.
and bustle of the workroom!” He grinned slyly.
“The seal I ordered will surely be done sooner “So, you found us out, eh?” he replied.
than I expected—how hard you Babylonians “How ingenious of you. I thought you were a
work for your king! So diligent. So . . . loyal.” simpleton. What about you, Mar-eshtar? Did
you realize your old playmate was smarter than
It made my blood hot. I could feel my he looks?” He cackled as he looked from me to
face getting red and I turned my back to him Mar-eshtar. A terrible grin slowly spread across
as I began furiously organizing tools into jars. the ambassador’s face. “He doesn’t know all,
does he?” He came toward me and patted my
“And how is your new apprentice—the burning cheek. “How precious—still thinks
little embellisher—coming along?” his childhood friend is as innocent as he is!”

I did not turn around. I flung his hand away. What was all this
“I believe you were right, Zarriqum. about? I looked at Mar-eshtar. Why wasn’t
Didn’t you say he was rather dimwitted? he saying anything? I expected him to charge
Perhaps he is just ignorant of how to behave toward the ambassador like a bull, or at least
in the presence of someone in authority.” unleash his tongue on the fiend. Instead, Mar-
Zarriqum said nothing, and I continued eshtar gazed at Zarriqum for a moment and
facing the wall. It felt as if my heart had then cast his eyes to the floor.
somehow moved up inside my throat and
would soon burst. The ambassador’s grin hardened to a frown,
“How dare you show your back to me! and his eyes narrowed. He waved his hand
Zarriqum, I demand that you use your rod on impatiently in the air and shouted, “Tie him up!”
this imbecile!”
I could not contain my fury any longer. To my astonishment, Mar-eshtar threw
Before I could think about what I was doing, his massive arms around me and stuffed a rag
I spun around to face him, my fingernails into my mouth. He pulled me to a corner and
digging into the palms of my clenched fists. started tying a rope around me. Had he gone
mad? As the rope dug into my arms and chest,

DILIGENT MEANS ATTENTIVE

40 AND PERSISTENT.

I struggled wildly, trying to break free from a hollowness deep inside me, as if someone
what was surely a nightmare. But the choking had gathered up all that was dear to me and
rag in my throat and the stinging cuts of the stolen it away. I stared at the wall with a lump
rope were only too real. I felt sick. Mar-eshtar in my throat.
dropped me to the floor. I lay there, stunned,
my face to the wall. Not Mar-eshtar . . . not Mar-eshtar . . . I
repeated the words to myself like some kind
The ambassador began barking orders. of sacred chant. A part of me knew that they
“We can’t afford to wait any longer! The held no power, yet the words kept coming. After
seal and the tablet must be finished as soon several miserable hours, I began to slip in and
as possible. I won’t leave this place until the out of sleep. The chant inside my head contin-
sealed tablet is in my hands—even if it takes ued, keeping time with the rhythmic hum of
all night! Mar-eshtar, inscribe the tablet the bow drill. Not Mar-eshtar . . . not Mar-eshtar
immediately. I will dictate.” . . . My troubled dreams carried me back to my
childhood in my father’s kitchen.
I couldn’t see what was going on, but I
could hear them moving hurriedly about, “No, Mar-eshtar, wait! First the oath, then
speaking in whispers. Their shadows shifted the blood. You must first swear the oath as I did.”
and lurched upon the wall like an eerie phan-
tom dream. I felt cold and empty. There was “Yes, the oath. I, Mar-eshtar . . . ahem . . .
I mean, I, Enkidu, swear before Shamash the

41

sun, the god of justice, an oath of loyalty and “Listen!” Something about his voice made
friendship to Nabi-sin.” me stop struggling and look him steadily in
the eye. “Nabi-sin, trust me! I’m going to take
“Gilgamesh!” the rag out of your mouth, do you hear?”
“To Gilgamesh. And bind myself to him as
a brother, to come to his assistance when need Trust him? As soon as the rag was out, I
arises.” spit in his face. He immediately shoved it back
“Now here is the knife. Be careful, Mar- in. I could feel tears welling up involuntarily.
eshtar. Mar-eshtar, your cut—it’s too deep! I let myself slump to the floor. If my whole
Mar-eshtar! Father! Father, help!” world was going to crumble down around me,
maybe I’d just go down with it. I closed my
“GET UP, LITTLE embellisher—fix me some- eyes and tried to block out Mar-eshtar’s voice.
thing to eat!” The ambassador was kicking
me in the back. “Mar-eshtar will keep you “I’m sorry, Nabi-sin. I guess Kirum was
company.” right—we should have told you.”

Sin the moon god had taken possession I wanted him to stop talking. If he would
of the sky, and his light was spilling through just not say anything, it wouldn’t be so hard.
the space below the door. What had I done to
cause my father’s god to forsake me? I wanted “Zarriqum and I thought it would be bet-
to raise my arms and cry out to Sin so that he ter to keep you safely out of it, but Kirum
would remember the faithfulness of my father hated to deceive you.”
and save me, but my mouth was stopped and
my arms were bound. My head ached from the strain of trying
to push his words away.
Mar-eshtar pulled me roughly to my feet.
My whole body felt numb. I glared at him as “She was in a fury! She must have a ten-
he dragged me out of the room with the rag der heart for you—I can’t imagine why!” He
still stuffed in my mouth. When we got to shook his head and laughed softly. The unex-
the kitchen, he pressed me against the wall. pectedly gentle sound startled me. I listened
more closely. His laughter had nothing sinis-
“Gilgamesh!” he whispered. “Still think ter in it as the ambassador’s had. I cautiously
you’re a brave little warrior, don’t you?” squinted up at him.

I tried to kick him with my knee, but he “Nabi-sin, listen. King Hammurabi knows!
was too quick. Zarriqum has been reporting everything. The
king ordered us to go along with the ambassa-
“Nabi-sin, calm down!” he pleaded. He dor’s plans so that he can keep watch over that
acted concerned, but he wasn’t going to make a filthy dog of Mari. He is a traitor to the peace
fool out of me a second time. I butted my head bond and has provoked the king’s anger toward
straight toward his face. He blocked me with Mari, but Zarriqum is innocent.”
his hands and held my head in a firm grip.
What? Was this another trick? Every-
thing in me wanted to believe him. He

42

already had me gagged and tied—what pur- he untied the rope. It fell to the floor in a
pose would he have in deceiving me further? big heap.
I searched Mar-eshtar’s eyes for some sort
of clue. They were as frankly sincere as I’d “I am sorry, my friend.” He kicked the
always remembered. rope. “I didn’t want to raise the ambassador’s
suspicions.”
“Everything was going fine until you
decided to play hero.” He grinned. I suddenly felt weak. “Mar-eshtar,” I
clutched his shoulder with a trembling hand,
My heart made a leap, and I felt as if “when you tied me up and left me on the
it were so full it might burst with joy. I floor, I very nearly cursed you with an unlift-
snorted and grinned as widely as the rag in able curse.”
my mouth would allow. Mar-eshtar’s face lit
up, and he came at me like a bear, throw- The color drained from Mar-eshtar’s face.
ing his arms around me and pulling me to “I wanted to pray that the net of Sha-
my feet. He took the rag from my mouth mash would overtake you . . . I wanted to call
again, and I inhaled a few deep breaths as down hundreds of terrible curses upon your
head. . . .”

43

He backed away awkwardly, hitting “Be assured, Nabi-sin, that both Kirum
against a stool. He limply sat down. His eyes and her father are loyal. They’ve always been
were anxiously fixed on mine. “Nabi-sin . . . true to their king—and to their friends.”
what curses . . . did you utter?”
I could feel the lingering remnant of my
I looked at the floor. “The words would not inward pain begin to melt away. But so many
come.” I lifted my eyes to Mar-eshtar’s. “I just things were unclear. “I was so certain that
prayed that my god, Sin, would deliver me.” Zarriqum and the ambassador were friends.
That expensive gift—”
Mar-eshtar blew out a deep breath, ran a
hand through his hair, and shook his head in “A bribe! Zarriqum would never make
relief. “Nabi-sin, you are a true friend, refined friends with such a man.”
in fire. Like Gilgamesh and Enkidu.”
“But Kirum also said that my father and
“But . . . Kirum—” I couldn’t finish the Zarriqum were old friends. What am I to
painful question. believe?”

“It’s true—that is why you were sent here
when your father died.”

“What?”
“Zarriqum said it was your father’s wish.”
My father’s wish. It all started to make
sense. I could feel the blood begin to pulsate
quickly through my body and I shook out the
numbness from my arms. My father wanted
me here. My god brought me to this place.
For the first time since Father’s death, I felt as
if I truly belonged somewhere.
Suddenly, the ambassador’s harsh voice
reached our ears from the workroom. Mar-
eshtar and I looked at each other.
“Come, what are we waiting for? Let’s
overtake him!” I whispered.
“He carries a knife in his belt. Besides, we
need to get word to the king first. Otherwise,
we may destroy everything. We just need a
way to distract him long enough to alert King
Hammurabi.”
I knew a way.

to be continued

REMNANT MEANS A SMALL

44 REMAINING AMOUNT.

WHAT
DRAMA!
WHAT
TALENT!
WAIT FOR ME!

WINNERS

JANUARY 2020 STORY CONTEST

Work of Art

First prize 10 and under First prize 11 and up minute difference. Every face was a little bit brighter,
every heart lighter. All artwork lingered excitedly
Linden, age 9 Madi Link, age 12 throughout the day for three words to echo around the
Green Bay, WI Evans, GA starlit halls . . . “Coast is clear.”

Ophidia, the medusa, tried desperately to sketch Coast Is Clear Second prize 10 and under
a self-portrait. Later she would add color. Her problem
was every time she looked into the lake at her reflection, As the final flickering lamp sputtered off, the art Margaret Law, age 10
the snakes of her hair were in a very different place. She museum lay shrouded in shadow. Moonlight streaked Cobleskill, NY
could not use a mirror or else she might turn herself to through the windows. The paintings hung still, their por-
stone. She did feel bad for all the fish in the lake she traits and depictions unmoving. Transformation
petrified.
Out in the lobby, a certain masterpiece stood watch “Oh! Come here, Isabelle!” my mother exclaims from
She cried out in frustration for the third time that over the museum’s main doors. She wore a pale, frilly the other end of the gallery.
hour. Suddenly she came up with an idea. She had heard blue dress, her face serene, her features flawless. The
about the human concept of a ponytail, so she thought artist had done a magnificent job. But the eyes perfected I’ve been pretending to examine a picture, but
she could try something called snakytail. She made her figure. They seemed to be alive in themselves, like instead have been thinking about all the things I could
herself a grass rope and tied all her hair-snakes together sparkling green jewels. They almost appeared to roam be doing with my best friend, Alyssa, back home instead
with her grass rope. around, scanning for something. of being here at this art museum that I never wanted to
visit. But my mom is some sort of art fanatic, so every
There, she thought, and sighed happily. And then those shining gems blinked. chance she gets she drags me someplace where they
She started to try to sketch herself again. Sometimes Shifting in her seat, the painted woman smoothed show art off, wasting both of our times.
the snakes still got in the way, or they tried to bite her, out her skirts and proclaimed, “Coast is clear!”
which hurt a lot. This failing, she tried to braid her hair. “Coast is clear . . . Coast is clear . . . Coast is clear. . . .” But she seems really interested in this one, so I drag
After several minutes and many bites, she finally braided Like a ripple when a stone is thrown, more voices joined my feet over and try to at least act interested. Without
and secured her hair. It still lashed around a little, but in the signal until the noise level reverberating around even looking at it, I say, “Wow. So cool, Mom.”
not enough to matter. Now she thought she could draw the hall was tumultuous. And then the ripple dispersed,
herself. melting into joyous chatter and activity as the works of Then out of the corner of my eye, I see the painting,
“Ugh!” she exclaimed, looking down into the water. art unfroze and stretched their weary limbs, stiff from and my mind is transformed. Suddenly, I love this piece
Now that the snakes were not in her face, she could see staying in one place for so long. as much as my mom does.
her reflection, but it was still quite vague and ripply. Many of the paintings’ subjects leaned out of their
Ophidia glanced at her sketchbook. The picture she was frames and gossiped with one another. Several old men The blues swirl around each other, creating an ocean,
drawing of herself was very weird looking. She started to pulled pipes out of their pockets and began puffing on and even though it’s an abstract painting, I think I can
brainstorm ideas that she could use to see herself with- them. Still others curled up in the foregrounds of their make out a sunset over the water. Or maybe it’s people
out paralyzing herself. She had already thought of using still lifes and snoozed. Sculptures worked themselves cheering for competitive swimmers. There are so many
a fogged mirror or seeing her reflection cross-eyed. She loose by running laps around the building, leaping off of possibilities, and they keep me looking, delving deeper.
was running out of ideas. their pedestals and frolicking. Even the landscapes awak-
She sat by the lake for a while, thinking. Then she ened, trees waving, oceans roaring, cities twinkling. The oranges and deep pinks blend with dark reds
realized that it didn’t have to be a perfect reflection. She Every work of art roused and passed the long night and light blues, all weaving an interconnecting web,
could draw herself any way she liked. away, laughing, chatting, and celebrating. spanning the canvas, making you speculate over what on
She went back home, combed out her hair, and sat But eventually the misty light of dawn began to creep earth it could be representing. A vein of deep, dark purple
down at her table. She didn’t erase her old picture, since through the windows. The masterpieces made their way runs through the bottom.
she saw the beauty of that one, too. She started to draw back to their places and settled into position, preparing
herself in her own way. themselves for the long, motionless wait ahead. The painting calls to mind a cozy fire with rugs, blan-
An hour later, she smiled. Her work was complete. When the museum opened once again, all the art kets, and armchairs, and makes me think of a warm snow
appeared the same as before. However, there was one day or a bonfire with people celebrating around it, maybe
in the summertime.

“It—” I search for the right words—“you were right,”
I finally decide on. Then I say, “I do love it, so much.”

After checking the painter’s name, I search the

45

exhibits, trying to find more of her work. We analyze the She pulled up an old, leather-bound book, running infinite blanket, and all light and life seemed to have
paintings, searching for the places in them that evoke a hand across the cover to sweep away the thin layer of evaporated into thin air. All the streetlamps had been
feelings we’ve never felt before. When the museum dust that had accumulated there. She opened the cover extinguished, and the abandoned boats in the port
closes, we drive home, still talking about the amazing and inhaled the musty smell that the yellowing pages swayed slightly in the ghostly breeze. L’endroit Silencieux
images we have seen today. emitted. How she loved the feel of a heavy book in her meant “The Silent Place” in French, which was a fitting
hands, almost as much as she loved the feel of the words name for the eerie town. L’endroit Silencieux was never a
Second prize 11 and up on her tongue, in her head. lively place during the day anyhow, the few tourists only
attracted by the beach and the beautiful art museum,
Hana de Queiroz, age 12 Books were forbidden in her land, and had been and during the night it was so spookily quiet that no one
Reno, NV for hundreds of years. Elwyn did not know of any that noticed the people in the portraits in the museum mov-
existed except the ones she kept beneath her floor- ing by the light of the dim stars.
The Art of Words boards. She had been especially foolish to let her aunt
find her reading one today. The artist, Alexandre Brodeur, sprinted across the
“How dare you even touch one of these dust- pristine marble floors as fast as his nimble feet could carry
infested things! Ought I remind you that living in this Elwyn checked the lock on her door and settled down him—and as fast as he dared, for he was carrying a large
house is a privilege?” to read, always listening for footsteps in the hallway. Soon, portrait of the innkeeper, Lilou Antoine. She had requested
however, her mind drifted away from her aunt, and she that he paint her when she had seen him struggling to get
Elwyn’s aunt snatched the tattered tome out of the allowed herself to be transported into a world of dragons by, and miraculously the museum had accepted his portrait.
girl’s hands and threw it to the ground. A cloud of dust and fairies, mountains and beasts. She had never seen real
rose around their skirts. artwork—it was rare, and only the most talented artists Word about was that she was a witch, but those
were allowed—but she believed that her books were their were just rumors. But Alexandre had other things to
“Up to your room now, girl!” own kind of art, painting beautiful pictures inside her head. worry about—like getting out of the museum quickly.
Elwyn glowered at her aunt and turned, her long Even though it was only superstition, no one stayed out
skirts nearly tripping her as she ran up the stairs. Third prize 10 and under after midnight, and Alexandre was not an exception.
Elwyn slammed the door to her room and slid the
rusty bolt into place. Breathing hard, she fell to her knees Natali Cox, age 10 One of the nervous night guards ushered him along
and crawled to an antique rug that lay in the center of El Cerrito, CA a corridor to an empty spot, where Alexander hung La
the floor. She pulled up the corner and felt around on the Viege (The Maiden) clumsily on the wall, thanked the
hardwood floor underneath until she found the rusty nail The Portrait guard, and rushed out.
that had sprung loose from its floorboard one year. Moving
as quietly as she could, lest her aunt hear her, she pried the It was late when the artist stepped into the museum. Late that night, a few minutes before midnight, Lilou
board up and reached for something that lay beneath it. Darkness had already stricken the city with its cold, snuck into the dark museum to once again prove the

AH-HA! THERE YOU WHAT? NO! IT WASN’T ME! NO NEED TO GET TECHNICAL– GROAN.
ARE. AND YES! WHO ASKED YOU NO OFFENSE, HAVEN’T YOU EVER HEARD OF
LADYBUG.
SINCE YOU ASKED, TO READ? POETIC LICENSE?
I’LL JUST READ A

FEW PAGES.

VERY FUNNY. NOBUGGY’S I HAVE 18 THAT’LL TAKE HEY! NO YOU NOW’S OUR
GOING ANYWHERE UNTIL PAGES ON HOURS! DAYS! DON’T. PESKY
I’VE READ MY EPIC ODE TO FRISKY SPRING WIND! HELP CHANCE. RUN
THIS LOVELY SPRING DAY. BREEZES WEEKS! ME GRAB MY FOR IT!
ALONE! PAGES! GRRR!
IT’S ONLY 84 PAGES.

OH WELL. OOPS! I JUST SPRING SUN
MAYBE IT REMEMBERED– I WAS NICE
HAVE A LIBRARY TER WINTER’S
WON’T BOOK TO RETURN. OWER, BUT
BE SO WERE SAVED
BAD...
AN APRIL
SHOWER!

46

rumors were true. All the guards had left, so Lilou could of the eldest came flying fiery sparks. From the door of Honorable Mention
make her magic in peace. She had only one painting to the youngest, they heard the faint scratching of his pen. Sara Grace Abernathy, age 13, Kingston, GA. Caleb
do that night—La Viege. Alicea, age 8, Cleveland, OH. Cecilia Appel, age 13,
As night fell, both gathered to present their day’s Tucson, AZ. Reid Arnold, age 13, Vero Beach, FL. Cora
She approached the painting and muttered a few work. The elder revealed a sword, seemingly made of Barclay, age 10, Seattle, WA. Mercy Batterson, age 12,
words. Before she walked away, she straightened the spun silver starlight. The hilt was shining black, set with Galeton, PA. Aislinn Joyce, age 10, Cleveland, OH. Rhea
portrait. stones of green and blue. The younger unmasked his Kumar, age 9, Brunswick, OH. Kat Mu, age 10, Memphis,
drawing, and the dark paper was swirled with the same TN. Eloise Roberts, age 9, Forest Hills, NY. Melanie
As Lilou turned away to face the not-quite-starless colors of blue and green, the silhouetted pine trees Statsevych, age 9, Strongsville, OH. Aiyla Syed, age 13,
night, the portrait winked at her master. brushed with shining black, and the mountains covered Asbury, NJ. Ellie Zipfel, age 11, Helena, MT.
with snow of spun silver starlight.
Third prize 11 and up To see more winning Cricket League
Suddenly, the sky exploded in color, the brothers entries, visit our website:
Ruthie Nutt, age 14 forgotten in the timelessness of the moment. No words
Garner, NC could describe the lights that streaked the sky, slicing the cricketmagkids.com/contests
night like great sword strokes, drawing the eyes of those
The North’s Finest for miles. Solution to Crossbird Puzzle

Two artisan brothers once set out to share their The brothers then knew not one mortal alive could 35 34
craft. Coming upon a mountain village, they saw traders ever hope to match the beauty that cloaked the frozen
carrying the finest dwarven ores and minerals, silk paper world. The lights shone brighter that night than in a hun- PYR A M I D SUDAN
born of elf song, and pens that drew with dragon blood. dred years, and nature’s grace inspired magic that stayed
The brothers settled down, and all the town was in awe forever with the valley. TU IU E
of their talents. The elder forged gallant armaments, and
the younger took to drawing all he saw and all he knew. The brothers spent their days teaching and creating, O EYE OD OR S
and the village became known for its art unmatched. I
During the winter solstice, both were selling to trav- have seen, on the still nights of winter, the fiery sparks 32 33 31 30
elers, who came for the fabled north lights, said to paint of the elder’s forge fly from the mountaintops and have
the sky colors more brilliant than a rainbow. While all heard the faint scratching of the younger’s pen in the 29 27 28
marveled at what came from the brothers’ hands, many creaking of the pines.
couldn’t decide whose they favored. The village proposed DAR I S LE S
a competition, and the brothers agreed. From the forge
EH 26 24 25

C A I RO BA

23 22 I

SS HE

S AR COPHAG US

20 21 19

G FM XZ

18

17 15 16 I N

TO QUE EN

14 13 12 11 10

I LE N M NG I

TUT ATOM Z H

89 7

ID 6 PU

R

NEW STORY CONTEST: ON THE JOB 3 45 12

Eri in “Business and Bows” is proud to start her own business tying kimono bows. And Nabi- DE LTA SC RO L LS
sin in ancient Babylon works first as a cook and then as an apprentice to a seal cutter. People
always have work to do. For this month’s contest, everybuggy wants to read your best story Answers to “Riddles for April Fools”
about the challenges and fun of doing a job.
fire; light; the letter “e”; an equal; none; a riddle
Maybe you will write about trying to earn money for something you really want, or
saving up your allowance to buy a gift for someone special. You might write about someone Acknowledgments continued from inside front cover
doing a job in history, like delivering messages for the Roman army, or a printer’s apprentice Grateful acknowledgment is given to the following publishers and copyright
in the American Revolution, or working to help a poor family during the Depression. You owners for permission to reprint selections from their publications. All pos-
might even make up a fantasy story about a young wizard’s apprentice or dragon tamer in sible care has been taken to trace ownership and secure permission for each
medieval times, or a science fiction story about a futuristic job working with robots. selection.
“False Impressions“ art © 2004 by Barry Wilkinson.
Whether you write about doing volunteer work for free at a retirement home or animal Photo acknowledgements: 11 (BG) Leena Robinson/Shutterstock.com;
shelter, or running into hilarious problems as a dog walker or babysitter, or getting your 12-16 (border) Katika/Shutterstock.com; 18-21 (border) Cute little things/
dream job as a songwriter or chef or horse trainer, everybuggy in Cricket Country will be Shutterstock.com; 18 (RT), 19 (RT) Courtesy of Perkins School for the Blind
enjoying their dream job of reading your best story—of 350 words or less, please—about Archives, Watertown, MA; 19 (RC) Bridgman, Laura Dewey/Harvard University;
doing a job. 19 (RB), 20 (TC), 20 (CC), 21 (TC), 21 (RB), 21 (BC) Courtesy of Perkins School
for the Blind Archives, Watertown, MA; 22-23 (all) Tamiris6/Shutterstock.com;
Contest Rules 4. Only one entry per person, please. 29 (RB) Francesco_Ricciardi/Shutterstock.com; 31-34 (BG) RRice/Shutterstock.
1. Your contest entry must be your very own original work. 5. If you want your work returned, enclose a self-addressed, com; 38-44 (BG) photonova/Shutterstock.com; 48 (LC) Panorama, 1 April 1957,
BBC News/BBC Photo Library.
Ideas and words should not be copied. stamped envelope for each entry.
2. Your entry must be signed by your parent or guardian, 6. Your entry must be received by April 25, 2020. CRICKET magazine (ISSN 0090-6034) is published 9 times a year, monthly
7. Send entries to Cricket League, P.O. Box 300, Peru, IL except for combined May/June, July/August, and November/December issues,
stating that it is your own work, that no help was given, by Cricket Media, 70 East Lake Street, Suite 800, Chicago, IL 60601. Additional
and that Cricket has permission to publish it in the maga- 61354. (No faxes or email submissions, please!) Editorial Office located at 1751 Pinnacle Drive, Suite 600, McLean, VA 22102.
zine and on our website. 8. We will publish winning entries in the September 2020 Periodicals postage paid at McLean, VA, and at additional mailing offices. For
3. Be sure to include your name, age, and full address on address changes, back issues, subscriptions, customer service, or to renew,
your entry. issue and on the Cricket website. please visit shop.cricketmedia.com, email [email protected],
write to CRICKET, P.O. Box 6395, Harlan, IA 51593-1895, or call 1-800-821-0115.
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Printed in the United States of America.

1st Printing Quad/Graphics
Midland, Michigan March 2020

47