First Place
One Village Away
Aashi
I quickly find the serial number to check if it matches what I needed – UC59D – a wave of relief passed by me. I already know that this was worth the 4 months of waiting. I love the feeling of the cold metal on my hands. My spine shivers in delight. Half of the village is surrounding me. Nobody ever gets packages around here – especially a twelve-year-old girl living in one of the poorest villages in India. My Papa grabbed it from me. I don’t think he knows what it is. He says,“Whatever it is, Aashi, you are not playing with it! This is not a toy for girls.” He doesn’t understand. I worked so hard to get this.
I first had to find an organization that helps build wells in India, and then I had to send them a letter (that cost two whole days of Papa’s daily wage). My anger starts pouring out, just like Mama’s big pot of tandoori chicken. Papa starts walking away and the villagers begin leaving our small hut. Then I yell, the loudest I have ever yelled, “It’s for the well! I am tired of you making me and Mama walk every day 4 miles to – to the next village’s well! Have you noticed Mama has been limping everywhere for the past few days! This is the handle for the well that broke off last winter right across from the fruit stand!” By now, my tears were rolling down my cheeks just waiting under my chin to soak into my cousin’s old shirt. The villagers froze in place and turned around slowly. Almost like they heard a gunshot. I take the handle from Papa and run to the well. My bright green kurta flowing behind me as the wind is blowing bits of rocks into the crevices of my toes. When I get to the well, I noticed that the whole village was running after me. I gently slide on the big bright yellow handle. I want to count my turns just for good luck. 1…2…3… a man just shoved me over to the side so he could turn the handle, so I shoved him back. I don’t think that he heard me ranting. 4…5…6…7…8…9…10…11…12. 12 full turns. I feel proud of myself with the whole village cheering for me. In the distance, I can see Mama walking down the road coming back from the old well. When she saw me she smiled, and then she saw me holding the new well handle. She just froze and dropped all the water letting it spill on the sand. And then she ran, she ran like she didn’t care that her sandals were almost to the point of breaking, and she ran like she didn’t bother that there was only naan and rice in the cooler, and she ran like she wasn’t annoyed that the goat didn’t produce any milk that morning. She ran, and she gave me a hug.
Milen
Today I had to walk the 12 miles to the well to get enough water for Nani. Her health hasn’t been improving lately. I think that the end is coming close for her. I don’t like to think about it because she has always been there for me. I imagine Nani, like a tightrope, close to breaking. She’s still holding on, but only strong enough to be there for me. Yesterday, I heard news that my cousin in the neighboring village had fixed her well. I’m walking there right now to stop by to see it. I can see the big bright yellow handle, and I’m so excited! This might just help Nani’s health! I walk up to my cousin’s hut, “Hi Aashi! It’s so great to see you! I was coming over to your well because Nani’s health hasn’t been doing good, and our water is not clean,” I said. Aashi exclaimed, “Oh no! Nani’s health isn’t doing well? How can I help?!”. I replied, “Many have heard about the well in our village, but it is too far for a daily trip. There were hundreds of people following me to get to the well. I suppose that all of their water is bad too. I must get back home before dark! Say hi to your family for me!”. Then I got some water for Nani.
Aashi
Milen came over to my house just a few days ago saying that our Nani isn’t doing okay. I’m very worried for her. I go to the well to see how many people are there. There are about one hundred people. I ask a woman, not from our village, who looked tired, “How long have you had to walk to our village?” She responded with, “I don’t know child. Maybe 6 miles?”. Then I asked another man, “Is your well working in your village?” He said, “No, it broke off last winter”. I didn’t know their well handle broke off last winter too. I started to think, maybe Milen’s village needed the well handle more than my village needed it. I told Mama to get the bucket and fill it up. Then, after she filled up her bucket, I turned the well handle 12 times and it slid right off. I started walking to Milen’s village to put it on their well. Everybody was very confused because I just took away their source of clean water. They all started following me to see what I would do. A few of them started asking me questions, but I kept on walking because I knew that I was doing the right thing.
In the end, maybe the box was right. This handle really was a handle with care.
Sehva Faulkner lives in Austin, Texas. She enjoys reading, writing, and playing volleyball. She loves to watch Broadway musicals with her family. She also enjoys making puns at home with her dad. She is also an active competitor in Destination Imagination.
Second Place
Handle with Care
Emma walked outside on the rickety, old porch. A beautiful sunset made up for the blackened horizon. Streaks of orange and yellow stretched across the sky. Pink clouds danced in the distance. It was Paradise, California, after all.
“Ooh, what’s this?” She spotted a brown cardboard box on the steps. “Handle with Care” was stamped in bold red letters across the side.
Excitedly, Emma ripped away the dry, cracked tape, and opened the box. She reached inside and found an ornate silver handle.
“Whatever.” Emma put the handle back in the box, and carried it inside.
She plopped the box on the kitchen counter, and sat down on the couch.
“So, we’ll pick up the rest of the furniture tomorrow?” said Alexandra walking down the stairs.
“3pm? Okay! See you tomorrow.”
“What was that about, sis?” Emma asked.
“Stuff.” Alexandra’s attention drifted to the box on the countertop. “Hey, what’s that?”
“Just a box with a stupid silver handle,” Emma replied.
“Uh-huh. Just a handle?” Alexandra reached inside the box and pulled out a teddy bear, clean as if it were brand-new.
Alexandra grabbed the teddy bear, and sank to her knees.
“Alex, are you okay?”
Alexandra turned around, her eyes glistening with tears. “Emma, t-this teddy bear burned in the f-fire…”
“Are you sure?” Emma asked.
“Yes, my name is right here.”
Alexandra showed Emma the tag on the teddy bear. “Property ofAlexandra Martinez.”
“Dad went missing too.” Emma started to cry. Talking about her father always made her emotional. “H-how is this possible?”
“I don’t know, but we need to show mom,” Alexandra said.
“MOM!”
Emma’s mom came rushing down the stairs.
“Alexandra, I was on a business call, you can’t just interrupt.”
“Look at this!” Alexandra shoved the teddy bear in her mother’s arms.
“It’s a teddy bear.” their mother said simply. “I thought you were done with toys.”
“Look at the tag.” Alexandra interrupted.
Their mother gasped “W-what, this can’t be Cuddles! It’s been two months since the fire. I can’t believe this.”
“I didn’t believe it either,” Emma said.
“Where in the world did you find this? It’s all clean and everything,” Mom asked.
“In that box,” Alexandra said, pointing to the box on the countertop.
Their mom grabbed the box, staring inside. She gasped, and nearly dropped the box.
“What’s inside?” Emma tried to peer in but couldn’t get a good look.
Their mother pulled out a wedding photo of a young couple, identical to the one Emma had seen on the serving table in the dining room at her old house.
Alexandra gasped. “This isn’t possible. Nothing survived the fire.”
“If that came back, can’t Dad come back too?” Emma asked.
They all looked at each other.
The doorbell rang. “Anyone home?” Lucas was at the door, shifting back and forth, hands in his pockets as usual.
“Hey Lucas!” Emma waved.
Lucas glanced around.
“Hi Emma. Have you seen my cat, Coco?”
“No, why?”
“Um.” Lucas hesitated. “Coco is gone…I’m not entirely sure when she went missing, but the last time I saw her was the night of the fire.”
“Coco’s a smart cat. I’m sure she’ll turn up. Cats have 9 lives, y’ know. Anyway, open the box.” Emma placed the box into his meaty hands.
“What’s inside?”
“A cool present.” Emma smiled knowingly.
“Okay…”
Lucas pulled out a cat. “COCO!” He hugged the cat, who promptly coughed up a hairball.
“Ew, it’s on my shoe,”Emma exclaimed before flicking it away.
“Sorry. Oh my God, how did you find her?” Lucas put Coco down.
“It’s a secret.”
“Can I hug you?”
“Okay. But not too tight .”
Lucas squeezed Emma hard.
“Ow, my ribs!” Emma pushed Lucas away.
Lucas turned red as a ripe tomato. “I got to go, I don’t want to be late for dinner! C’mon Coco.”
He held the door as Coco elegantly exited, her long brown tail curling upward.
“Emma, can you please help me sort out some boxes upstairs after Lucas leaves?” Mom asked from upstairs.
“Sure, he’s already gone,” Emma replied.
Emma ran up the stairs. She picked out a box, and got to work. After a couple minutes, Emma
found one marked “Christmas Lights-Attic.”
“Remember, the attic door doesn’t have a handle. Be very careful opening it. Your sister cut herself trying to open it.”
Emma remembered the handle in the box. She pulled it out and ran back up the stairs. The attic had a tiny wooden door, with holes from where the handle used to be. She stuck the handle into the holes, and pulled with all her might.
The door opened. Clouds of black smoke wafted out. Emma began to cough. “I can’t breathe.”
Beep! Beep! Beep!
Emma woke up in a bright room. Her vision was blurry, but there was light.
Slowly but surely she realized she was in a hospital room. Fluorescent lights hung from the ceiling. She could make out dim shapes.
She sat up and looked around. Three people were sitting nearby, with their heads down, and tears flowing from their eyes. Her mom was saying something in a low voice.
“Mom, Dad, Alexandra?” she asked.
Three heads looked up.
“We thought you were dead,” Mom yelled, wiping the tears off her cheeks.
“You were in here for two weeks!” Alexandra shouted. “I missed you, Em!”
But Emma only sought one face.
“Dad?” Emma looked around.
“Emma….” Dad whispered, hugging his little girl.
“Dad!” That was the only word she could say. Emma started to cry.
“You saved my life. You woke me up and got me out safely. I wouldn’t be here without you, kiddo.”
They embraced again. They were a family again, looking out the window at a beautiful sunset in Paradise, California.
Emily Keane is an active sixth grader in rural Pittstown, New Jersey. From an early age Emily would always have a book in her hands. Besides reading and writing, Emily’s interests include coding/robotics, math olympiad, competitive tennis and piano in her middle school jazz band. Emily hopes one day to be a biomedical research scientist or maybe a fantasy fiction author.
Third Place
The Corvallis Curse
The Corvallis All Star baseball team is cursed. Our city has never won the District Championship since 1987, when the 12U Allstar team was caught cheating. Tournament officials accused some of the players of having already turned thirteen, and therefore ineligible to play in that age group. The coach had lost the player’s birth certificates, so the officials disqualified the team, taking the trophy away. Corvallis was cursed because of that cheating team. Since then, Corvallis has come close, even playing in the Championship Game, but everyone knew that Corvallis would never win.
Despite the curse, I was having fun playing on the 12U Corvallis All Star team. This year, in the District Tournament, our team had gone six-and-one. This Saturday was the Championship game. All the Corvallis teams were playing at home, with our 12U team slated to play last against Eugene in the afternoon. I spent the morning volunteering at the cash register in the concession stand. In between customers, I went to the supply closet to go get some more paper cups, but they were too high to reach. I searched for something to stand on, when I saw a large box in the back corner of the closet floor. I dragged it out, and before stepping on it, decided to see what was inside.
I found a folder with a hand-written label that read, “Corvallis 1987 All Star Team.” Inside, I saw crinkled birth certificates. Shuffling through them, I noticed they all had the same year: 1975. This proved Corvallis hadn’t cheated in the 1987 Tournament. That meant our city wasn’t cursed. I couldn’t wait to show my team. A cheer from the stands interrupted my thoughts. I hurried off, grabbing my gear on the way to the field. When I arrived, my coach looked at his watch and sent me off to the batting cages. All the other players were already there.
“Charlie, where were you?” Santi asked me. Santiago Suarez was a fantastic baseball player, tall, with a thick build and brown hair. He was our team’s best hitter. Santi and I had played baseball together for years, and had become good friends.
“I was helping out at the concession stand,” I replied.
Santi shrugged and turned his attention back toward the cage. “Big game today, let’s beat the curse.” He said. Districts is an important tournament. If you win, you advance to regionals. From there, teams play for the state title and a chance to go to the Little League World Series. We had work to do.
After batting practice, my team returned to the dugout. “Coach!” I yelled. “Can I show the team something from the concession stand?”
“Sure, just make it quick. You have five minutes.”
I carried the box to the dugout, and displayed the birth certificates on the bench for everyone to see. No one spoke. Finally, Santi broke the silence. “Corvallis didn’t cheat!”
“See? We’re not cursed,” I replied.
That was the inspiration we needed for the game. I hoped it would be enough.
Coach Smith gave us our pep talk. “All right, boys, you’ve worked hard to get here. No matter what happens today, I want you to be able to say you played your best. Now get out there!” We were the home team. I started the first inning at third base, with Santi on the mound. Santi toed the rubber and faced down Eugene’s first batter. He was skinny, and his blue and gold jersey billowed around him in the breeze. I stepped into ready position. Santi surged forward and delivered an inside fastball. The Eugene batter swung and hit a weak chopper to me. I ran forward and scooped it up and threw a bullet to first. The umpire made a fist and pointed at the base. One out. The fans cheered from the stands… They remained cheering as Santi struck out the next two batters.
Coach called out, “Charlie, Santi, Juan!”
I was batting leadoff. Calming my nerves, I stretched and stepped into the batter’s box, eyeing the pitcher. All I got in return was a blank stare. The pitcher went into motion, his arm a blur. I saw the ball, timed it, and swung. There was a ping as I made contact. The ball jumped off the bat, screaming between the shortstop and third baseman. My teammates cheered as I touched first base. Santi was up to bat now. He took the first two pitches for a ball and a strike. Then, he sent a pitch flying over the center fielder’s head, soaring over the fence. The crowd roared its approval. The score remained 2-0 until coach took Santi out of the game. Eugene then scored three runs in the sixth, and final inning, taking the lead.
Our eighth hitter led off. He singled, and the ninth hitter struck out. Back to the top of the order, I walked to the plate and took a deep breath. I tried to control the tingling feeling racing up my spine, but it was a hopeless battle. The runner on first stole second base on the first pitch. The next pitch I sent on a line between the center fielder and left fielder. I made it to second base, and the runner ahead of me scored. The teams were now tied, with one out. Santi came up. He stepped to the plate and watched three pitches go by, running up the count to three balls. On the fourth pitch he hit a pop fly over the second baseman. I was off in a flash, the field becoming a blur as I rounded third base. I ran as hard as I could. My muscles were screaming from the strain. I slid home and listened for the umpire, who yelled, “Safe!” I had scored the winning run! My teammates raced out of the dugout to celebrate our win, the final score 4-3. From under the pile of players, I only had one thought: The curse is over!
Carter Schultz lives in Boca Raton, Florida, and attends St. Paul Lutheran School. He plays in Little League International and year-round travel baseball. When not on the ball field, he likes to read and write both fiction and non-fiction, and travel with his brother and sister.