St. Robert CHS Student News
Mia Tamondong (10) l STAFF REPORTER
Heartbeats are a delicate thing. The steady tapping in one’s chest, the singular thing that said, I’m alive. Speeding up in times of fear, or love even. So to imagine it slowing, growing increasingly quiet to the point of silence, was unthinkable. That is, until you witness it.
Alyssa Lai (9) | STAFF REPORTER
Coco placed the wooden sign announcing “Available to host any Bark-Be-Que Nights or Paw-some Pupcake Parties” on the front doors of her cafe, allowing it to sway gently as she opened up for the day. Inside, she flicked on the lights, entered the kitchen, and began preparing a variety of treats, including peanut butter pupcakes, coconut crunch bites, and sweet potato chews. After thirty minutes of baking, she arranged the delicious offerings on separate platters in the window display. Shortly after, her co-worker Winnie arrived, and together, they crafted the daily menu, organized dishes, and set up chairs. At 8:00 am, Coco flipped the open sign, ready to welcome in customers.
Mia Tamondong (10) l STAFF REPORTER
I’m awake. I glance around as if that would help, but all I’m met with is blank space. Nothingness. It’s dull. Everything is so dull. It’s cold here, wherever “here” is, and I begin to shiver. I try to make sense of it all, the grey, the chills, the sensation of being suspended in something I can’t see. Before I can understand my surroundings I’m falling.
Alyssa Lai (9) | STAFF REPORTER
Nestled in the peaceful garden, where leaves whisper softly in the breeze and a nearby stream hums its gentle tune, my liquid moonlight scales gracefully glide through the crystal waters, yearning to be seen. I continue my swim in this endless pond, watching the sun glimmer on the water’s surface. In contemplation, I think to myself, “It’s almost time.” The sun’s rays are poised to melt away the frosty snow, signaling the arrival of the first day of this season, and I am ready for it.
Arya Dole (9) | STAFF REPORTER
She saw a bright light first, then everything went dark.
The light came first, and after came rushing along all the other senses. A taste of metal and the smell of burning flesh entered her world. It lingered, refusing to leave. There was the shockwave – a thunderous boom, an earthquake rattling the earth, sweeping her off her feet. She always felt like she was flying when the bombs went off. Always wished she was a fairy, flying through the air because of magic, not because of a bomb. Then, always, coming crashing down on rubble, crushing her daydream as she landed.
Elaine Chang (10) | STAFF REPORTER
“I’ll send someone to check on the work tomorrow but, just so y’know, for every seed we’ll take six months off your sentence.”
Alyssa Lai (9) | Staff Reporter
I tie my shoes and grab my duffel bag, gearing up for my gloomy newspaper job in the early hours of the morning. Stuffing the bag with newspapers meant for my neighbors, I can’t help but yawn from sheer exhaustion, questioning silently, “How did I end up here?”. With a sigh, I open my front door and hop onto my bicycle, the clock reading only 6:00 am.
Mia Tamondong (9) l STAFF REPORTER
The rain beats steadily on her skin, threatening to wear her away completely. The hunger in her stomach fades to a dull ache, the steadiness of the pain numbing her entirely. She grasps at her clothes, fighting the urge to rip off the cloth, the only remnants of a life no longer hers.
Arya Dole (9) | STAFF REPORTER
I visited a city once when I was younger. The image of its streets still burdens me, and often I wonder what it is like now. Others older than me warned me not to go and told me that what I would see would weigh on my mind for my entire life. But I was still a kid, 20-something years old, seeking out the adventures in life. I didn’t know any better. It was supposedly a city transformed beyond recognition, shaped over time until it gave into darkness. The spectre of its past problems still haunted this metropolis. The drugs, homelessness, violence – all still there, but worse, as I later learned. When I recall the city now, I wonder how beautiful it used to be when it had a different face, with a different heartbeat. To think about the past seems ironically dystopian.
Angelina Wang (11) | Staff Reporter
I never won, a single game or contest. But every time I’d find you in a crowd of victors, you’d always pat me on the back and tell me “You’ll get ‘em next time, kiddo” While looking away, because you have always been a terrible liar, and you can’t possibly hide the disappointment in your eyes. Years have passed and my defeats have only grown. But no matter how hard I try, I just can’t seem to recall the color of your eyes. Would I still be your “kiddo” if I couldn’t live up to your dreams, only to be devoured by your nightmares? If I could only ever brush my fingers along the clouds and never say hello to the sky above? What if who I am now is the peak of my glory? Would you still be proud of me? Please. Could you look me in the eye, and tell me you’re still proud? Could you tell me, truthfully, that it’s okay to fall under the weight of these expectations? That it’s okay to feel what I’m feeling, to feel like drowning when I’m on dry land? Because I don’t think I could handle a single second of this nightmarish reality if you weren’t right behind me, supporting me, believing in me. Who am I without your faith? Who am I without the blood, sweat and tears that you have put into my future? But your blood paralyses me. And your sweat burns me. And I am drowning in your tears. I’m sorry. You based your entire life on the future of a stranger. How did you know I could do it? How did you believe in someone you've never met? How could you be so sure that I could make it? That I could do all that you could, and so much more? Because I’m looking in the mirror. and I don't think I can. You sacrificed everything for me. So look at me. At my short list of accomplishments, my selfishness, my failures, and my fears. Tell me, Mom, Dad. Was I worth it?