Meeting (Chapter 13, Story 1)

To Hilda, Saturday seemed to take forever to arrive, but when it did, she put on a red and black gingham dress, baked a pie for her son and his bride, and instructed her husband, Will, to get into the car to leave. Hilda had lived in Scottsdale for a very long time, and knew her way around very well, but the address her son had given her was unfamiliar, so she consulted a map of Scottsdale kept in her glove compartment. "Oh my," she gasped suddenly. "What?" Will gave her a puzzled glance. "It's just that this address is..." Hilda didn't finish her sentence. It seemed that the street her son lived on was the same street she had had to drive down on her way to the police station, the street with the drinking woman and children playing in the busy street. "Never mind," she mumbled absentmindedly, "I'm probably all mixed up." But to Hilda's dismay, she was not at all mixed up. The very same ugly brown apartments that she had hurried past just a few days ago loomed before her as she search for a place to park. "Now, Will," she said, getting out of the car, "I don't really know what to expect, so be polite and try to remember that this is your son we are dealing with." Will just glanced at her and kept walking. Hilda and Will soon found the apartment. The doorbell was broken, so Hilda rapped loudly on the door. No one answered. She knocked again, but still no one came. "Maybe he forgot, Dear," Will suggested, turning to leave. "No, Will is too smart to forget," Hilda replied, and, just as she was reaching to knock a third time, to door swung open. James stood in the threshold, an embarrassed grin on his face. "Sorry, Mom. I couldn't hear you." He stepped aside to allow Hilda and Will into the apartment. It was dark and musty inside, with a distinct scent of beer, cigarette smoke, and window cleaner. There was a lone couch in the middle of the room, and a hallway with a single door on either side of it. "Well, James, this is interesting," Hilda said slowly. "Yeah, It's not much, but it works. Would you two like to sit down?" Hilda eyed the couch, which appeared to have a strange gray film covering it. Will cleared his throat and, grabbing his wife's arm, sat on the couch, pulling Hilda with him. James pulled up a wooden bar stool and smiled. "So, Dad, how are you?" "Fine, Son, and you?" "I'm okay. Thanks for asking." Will nodded. James glanced at Hilda and winced at the dismayed look she was trying to disguise. "The house doesn't usually look like this, Mom. Karen just didn't have time to...you know, clean up." "Certainly," Hilda mumbled. "James, Darling, why does is smell like someone has been smoking?" she asked. "What? Oh, it's the neighbors. The guy next door must smoke five packs a day, at least. Smells up the whole floor. It's terrible." "Uh huh," Hilda grunted. "Then why is there a pack of cigarettes on the floor over there?" "What?" James jumped up, grabbed the cigarettes, and tossed them into an empty flower pot. "Well, the guy comes over sometimes. He always brings those things in here, even though I tell him not to." "Well," Hilda said, sniffing, "you ought to tell him again. He shouldn't be smoking around your wife, especially in her condition." At this, Hilda smiled. "Where is your wife by the way, James?" The color quickly drained from James' face. "Wife? Karen? She's not here right now. In fact, maybe this isn't a very good time. Maybe you both should come by another day, after we've had time to straighten up." James jumped up to lead his parents to the door. Hilda glared at him. A strained silent choked the air for what seemed likes hours. Suddenly, a high-pitched, nasally voice broke the silence. "Jack? Can I come out yet?" "Who is that?" Hilda demanded. One of the hall doors opened and a thin, pale woman with rollers in her hair and a cigarette hanging from her cracking lips appeared. "Oh, dear Lord," Hilda whispered, grabbing Will's hand. It was none other than the old drinking woman she'd seen when she was driving to the police station. James had gone very pale, and he glanced nervously from his mother to the woman who had entered the room. "Well, mother, this is Karen. "What?" Hilda yelped. "Her? You married her?" "Well, yes, Mom, she's really great, really." "How old is she? And why is she calling you Jack?" Hilda stared hard at the woman, appalled by her rough appearance. She guessed that Karen was at least forty, probably ten or twenty years beyond that. "She's twenty-five, Mom. Only two years older than me."

FLYGIRL Review

Flygirl by Sherri L. Smith

My review

rating: 5 of 5 stars
This book is set in the United States during World War II and is about an African American girl named Ida Mae who must, in order to participate in the Women Airforce Service Pilots (WASP) and serve her country, pretend to be white.

Ida Mae's struggles and triumphs made this book very interesting. Having to decide who she really was inside and who she wanted to become shaped Ida Mae's character, while challenging the reader to think about who they really want to be as well.


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Married (Chapter 12, Story 1)

"Oh! Excuse me, sir!" Hilda exclaimed, seeing the large form looming in front of her was a human being. "Mom?" "I'm sorry?" Hilda looked up into the man's face and realized that he was none other than her own son, James. "James!" She enveloped him in a hug. "Oh, James! Your father and I have been so, so worried about you! Where have you been?" "In jail, obviously," the policeman behind the desk muttered. James scowled at him. "Come on, James. This place makes me feel ill. Let's talk outside." Rain was pouring from a dismal gray sky outside the station. Hilda pulled a small umbrella from her handbag and attempted to cover herself and her son with it. She wasn't tall enough to shield her son from the rain, so he held the umbrella instead. "James, why were you in jail? Do you still live here in Scottsdale? Do you still work at the Institute? Why have you been ignoring your father and I for so long?" Hilda wiped at the tears that had begun to leak from her eyes. "I'm sorry, Mom. I really am. Things just got a little crazy and it was best for me to leave you and Dad out of the whole mess." "But, son, maybe we could have helped you!" "No," James replied, shaking his head. "There was nothing you two could do. Nothing anyone could do, actually." "Well, I suppose all that matters now is that I've found you again. You can come home with me and we'll have a nice big supper, with all your favorite foods. Your father will be so happy to see you. He's missed you so much." "No, Mom, I can't do that." "Why not?" "Because I have my own home now." Hilda studied her son's face. He had lines around his eyes and on his forehead. His skin had a grayness to it she didn't remember, and his hair stood up in greasy spikes all over his head, as if he hadn't washed it in a while. "Of course, son. How silly of me. You're an independent young man now. You would have your own home." "Yes. And there's something else." James hesitated. "I'm...married." Hilda blinked. "I'm sorry, you're what?" "Married, Mom, I'm married." "Well when did this happen? How could you get married without informing your father and I?" "It wasn't really planned. It was sort of a crazy, spur of the moment thing. Nobody knew." "Well I suppose there's no use in crying over spilled milk. What's her name?" "Karen. She's great, Mom. Really great. I think you'd like her." Hilda tried to smile and patted her son's arm. "Of course I will son. When can I meet her?" "Well I...I don't know, Mom." "What do you mean you don't know? How about Saturday?" "Mom, Karen isn't really much for company these days because she's...pregnant. "James, you're expecting a child? My grandchild?" "Yeah." Hilda sniffed. She hated not knowing the latest news, and the fact that her son had managed to get married to the woman who was carrying her grandchild upset her. "Well, if that's the case, I most definitely have to meet her. And see your house. I won't take no for an answer, James! Where do you live?" James sighed, knowing there was no way to persuade his mother once she had set her mind to something. He scribbled his address on the back of a receipt. "Thank you. I will be there at five o' clock on Saturday. And I will bring your father." After exchanging a quick hug and a final goodbye, the two parted.

MODEL: A MEMOIR Review

Model: A Memoir by Cheryl Diamond

My review

rating: 5 of 5 stars
This book is a memoir written by model and author Cheryl Diamond. The book takes you to the streets of New York, where teenage Cheryl fights to make a name for herself within the harsh and unforgiving modeling world. Cheryl experiences triumphs, setbacks, laughs, and tears as she grows and matures into a not-so-typical New York Model.

I liked this book because Cheryl's experiences are so intriguing. Her writing style makes you feel as if you are right there experiencing Manhattan right alongside her. This is definitely a recommended read!


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Jail (Chapter 11, Story 1)

About five years later, James' mother received a perplexing call from the local police station. "Your son has requested to see you, Mrs. Jones," the officer informed her curtly. Mrs. Jones promptly picked up her keys, got into her car, and drove toward the police station. She had no idea what James could have done to deserve being locked up. He had always been a good, obedient son, always telling the truth and rarely getting into trouble. For reasons she couldn't explain, sometimes Mrs. Jones secretly wished that James would do something mischievous just once, but James remained an angelic child until the day he left home. Mrs. Jones turned onto a side street called Dylan Avenue. It was not a busy street, but there was enough traffic to make Mrs. Jones wonder why the mothers of the dozens of children playing in the street didn't make them play in a safer spot. The street was lined with ugly, dirty brownstone apartments, and the sidewalks were littered with cola cans and fast food wrappers. The smell of cigarette smoke and body odor seeped into Mrs. Jones' car. She shuddered when she glimpsed a haggard old woman laughing loudly and lifting a bottle to her lips. As she turned onto a quieter street, Mrs. Jones prayed that her son would never end up living in a place like that. Within a few minutes, Mrs. Jones had arrived at the police station. She had never been inside one before, and she wasn't sure how she should go about tracking down her son. A tall, muscular policewoman approached Mrs. Jones where she stood in the middle of the small parking lot. "Excuse me, can I help you?" the policewoman asked. "Yes, please, my name is Hilda Jones, and I am trying to find my son, James Jones. I was called a little while ago by a policeman who told me James wanted to see me." "Okay, Mrs. Jones, follow me." The policewoman led Hilda into a dismal, gray building. There was a policeman sitting behind a large green desk, and his eyes were glued to a computer monitor. "Ask him about your son," the policeman said. "Alright." Mrs. Jones approached the man behind the desk and cleared her throat to get his attention. "What?" he snapped. "I'm sorry to interrupt you, sir, but I was called about my son and--" "Name?" "Pardon me?" The policeman sighed. "What is your son's name, lady?" "Oh, his name is James. James Jones." "Sorry, lady, but your son's not here." "Excuse me?" Hilda said nervously, tightening her grip on her keys. "He was released yesterday," the policeman said. "But sir, I was called not even an hour ago, and I was told he was here." "Well somebody made a mistake, because he's not here." "Well where is he?" Hilda asked. "How should I know? Home, maybe." "Can you tell me where that is?" "Where what is?" "His home. Where does he live?" "You're his mother and you don't know?" The policeman raised an eyebrow. "We've been out of contact for the past few years. Would you please tell me where he lives?" "I'm not supposed to do that." The policeman looked back at his computer. Hilda transitioned her keys to her left hand, wondering if he was finished speaking to her. "Sir?" The policeman looked up, seeming to have forgotten her existence. "What now, lady?" "It's very, very important that I find my son." "I'm sorry lady, but even if I could give you that information, I don't have it." "You mean to tell me that you lock people up without asking for their address?" The policeman shrugged. Hilda felt as though she might cry. "Oh dear," she said, her voice cracking. The policeman looked at her for a moment, shook his head, and looked back at his computer. Hilda had been looking forward to seeing her son, and now all chances of that were gone. She opened the door, stepped out of the police station, and crashed into something tall and wet.

KEEPING CORNER Review

Keeping Corner by Kashmira Sheth

My review

rating: 4 of 5 stars
This book is about a girl named Leela who is living in Ghandi-era India. When Leela's husband dies, she is subjected to live the life of a widow, having to shave her head and "keep corner" in her house for a full year, even though she only 12. Leela learns to appreciate the world around her and find the good in bad situations during her year of keeping corner, and she finds that sometimes tradtion needs to be broken so that new ideas can improve life.


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MINERVA CLARK GETS A CLUE Review

Minerva Clark Gets a Clue by Karen Karbo

My review

rating: 5 of 5 stars
This book is about a 7th-grader named Minerva who finds impermeable self-confidence and courage after receiving an electric shock. Minerva goes on to solve a complicated murder mystery involving her own friends and family members.


I liked this book because I could relate to Minerva. She was very critical of herself, very shy, and had difficulty being herself and being honest with other people. I admired how brave and "real" she was after being shocked, and hope to eventually experience a similar change in my own life.


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FLUSH Review

Flush by Carl Hiaasen

My review

rating: 4 of 5 stars
When Noah Underwood's father is sent to prison for sinking a casino boat that he believes to be dumping waste tanks into the ocean, Noah decides to help his father prove his suspicions. Noah and his siter, Abbey, get into all kinds of trouble as they attempt to prove that their father is sane and telling the truth, while keeping the owner of the boat from polluting the ocean around their home in the Florida Keys.


I really enjoyed this book because it was filled with action and suspense. Noah, Abbey, and their parents are very passionate about keeping the beaches and oceans clean, and they are willing put themselves at risk to stop the casino boat from polluting. This book encourages readers to fight for what they believe in and to always do the right thing, because "what comes around goes around."


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Internship (Chapter 10, Story 1)

James had been a straight-A student in high school, and when he graduated as valedictorian of his class, he already knew exactly what he wanted to do with his life. He wanted to be a biologist, researching and discovering all there was to know about life on earth. Like every other graduate of Scottsdale High, he wanted to work at the Scottsdale Research Institute. Even then, no one knew anything about the Institute except for what had been rumored on the street, and most of the rumors concerned the amount of money generated there. People said that even the janitor at the Institute had a six figure income. They said that the floors were made of gold tiles, and the walls were covered in silver paint. James had known better than to believe all the gossip, but he had a hunch that big and important things were going on within the Institutes's cold stone walls, and he knew for a fact that the majority of the scientists employed there specialized in biology. Anyone who knew James Jones knew that he was strong-willed and determined, but everyone in the town of Scottsdale was shocked when James managed to find a job as an intern at the Institute. People came to visit James' parents every day, hoping to find out why James had gotten the job and what he was doing at the Institute, but James' parents informed every visitor that they really didn't know much more than they did. "James isn't supposed to tell us what goes on at his job," James' mother would say, "but we know he's doing wonderful things and we are very proud of him." Whenever people approached James himself about the subject, he would hurriedly end the conversation and hurry away. By the time he had been working at the Institute for a year, he was avoiding all contact with people. He went to work early in the morning and came home late at night, long after the townspeople had gone to sleep. He moved out of his parents' home, neglecting to give them any way to contact him. People whispered about James Jones, making up wild stories about his disappearance, but no one really knew what had happened.

Cooperation (Chapter 9, Story 1)

"What is that, Kella?" Michelle asked. "I don't know. Nothing, probably," Kella replied. The letter was very short and appeared to have been typed on a typewriter. The ink was smudged in places, as if water had been spilled on it. Dear Mr. and Mrs. Jones, it read, We are pleased to inform you that Project Roman is progressing as planned. We appreciate your cooperation. The signature at the bottom was so blurry that Kella couldn't read it. "Kella, can I have that envelope?" April asked. "Sure," Kella said, handing it over to her sister. She wondered why such a short, simple letter had been put in such a bright envelope. It wasn't as if there was any urgent information inside. Kella also wondered why the letter was thanking her parents for cooperating with the Scottsdale Research Institute. Kella's father had hated the Institute, saying that the ugly gray building brought down property values and they were throwing away his precious tax dollars on worthless tinkering. Karen always glared at him whenever he said anything about the Institute, and usually made some snide remark about James wishing he were smart enough to work at the Institute. Kella's father always winced when Karen said things like that.

Cabinet (Chapter 8, Story 1)

"I'll come too," Kella said, following her sister into the den. Laura was sprawled on the dingy beige carpet, holding one hand in the other. Blood trickled down her arm. "I fell," she said simply, her voice shuddering. Michelle bent over her younger sister, asking to see the cut and telling Laura that it wasn't too bad. There was a filing cabinet in the den which was used predominately as a skyscraper when the younger girls played Barbies. None of the children were sure if anything was inside it; it was kept securely locked at all times. Apparently, Laura had climbed on top of the cabinet and it had fallen over, causing its two drawers to burst open and their contents to fly all over the room. Kella began to clean up the myriad of papers and envelopes that littered the floor, examining everything as she did so. Most of the papers were credit card bills, but there were also report cards, letters from the landlord, and receipts. Kella had no idea how all the contents of the filing cabinet had been organized, so she simply began to stuff the papers back into the cabinet's drawers. Finally, after what seemed like hours, the last bill had been put away and both drawers had been put back into the cabinet. Kella pushed the heavy cabinet back into the corner, praying as she did so that her mother wouldn't notice that it had been tampered with. "Kella," April said, "you missed one." There was a bright red envelope on top of the TV. Kella wondered how she's missed it. Picking it up, she noticed that it was addressed to James and Karen Jones, whereas the other letters had been addressed only to Karen. There was no return address on the envelope. It's probably just another bill, Kella told herself. But, just to be sure, she lifted the envelope's flap and pulled out a folded piece of white paper. Unfolding the paper, she saw that the Scottsdale Research Institute letterhead was at the top.