A Midnight Companion

Jesse Etsler

I wake up in the passenger seat of Tyler’s car; for a second, while I’m struggling to get my bearings, I forget why I’m wherever the hell we are. I blink my eyes a few times to allow the world being thrust behind me to come into focus. I see the red pine tree air freshener dangling from his rear-view mirror; I see the bikini-hula girl and I notice she’s turgid; the road is very smooth, not a bump or pothole in sight, flawless. For a second I almost think it strange, but as I do Tyler’s voice overpowers my groggy mind, “It’s about time you woke up, you’ve been asleep the whole trip.” After wetting my mouth I finally muster out a faint and raspy, “Where are we?” “How the hell should I know; but we’re far from home, and that’s all that matters.” He laughs. “I’ve always been far from home Tyler.” I say as I stare out the window.

I’m a kid again and I never felt at home with my “family”. I had always felt like the odd one out. I remember one of my mom’s friends was pregnant and was inquiring about her pregnancies. My mother described each of them in meticulous detail, but fell short when it came to me. This didn’t surprise me; my parents had always picked favorites; or, rather, their least favorite. I had no clue why they treated me differently; I had never done anything to them. It wasn’t blatant either, just the way they acted towards and around me compared to my siblings. Then one day I was going through some old boxes stashed in the attic so I could pick out some pictures of me to put in our senior slide show for school. A bright light caught my eye. It was the reflection of the moonlight on the latch of a box sitting in the corner. I looked inside and found a folder with some forms in it, from an adoption agency. Then it all just clicked. I never told my family what I’d found and after graduation I called up Tyler, told him about my plan and left.

I’m back in the car, “You know, it’s funny how much of my life recently has been decided by that box. I can’t decide whether I’m angry or glad I found it.” I say. In my mind I think of how much disdain I had for it. All of my life it had been there, sitting in the attic; silent with that little latch shining on me, waiting for me to find it. “We’re stopping soon, I need a break.” Tyler mutters. “How long have you been driving?” I ask. He either doesn’t hear me or just doesn’t answer; I tried to think of when we left but I couldn’t quite remember.

We pull into an all night rest stop to get gas and stretch, “Can you get the gas?” Tyler asks. “Can you? I’m too tired” I whine. “You know, this would be around the right time for you to take some responsibility for once. I always have to do these things for you.” Tyler snaps as he extracts the nozzle from its chamber. “But I need to walk around anyway, I’ll get it…again.” The night air leaves a strange taste in my mouth; I remember the piece of gum I have in my pocket. I reach in and draw out what is now a limp, wrinkled stick of chicle; I toss it aside and just as it hits the ground, somewhere off in the distance I hear an alarm. I stand there for a few moments; everything begins to fade away from me as I fixate on this sound until Tyler’s voice once again startles me, “Someone’s not having a good night.” Tyler’s always found humor in those sort of things. “I’m good, are you ready to head back out?” he asks. Before I can contemplate what he’s asked me, “Yeah, let’s go” slips out of my mouth like the nozzle Tyler grabbed. We get back in the car and pull away from the rest stop. The last thing I see before I drift off to sleep again is Tyler shifting into gear and accelerating down the open road; I think, “I’ve never been good with a stick-shift” Eyes close, darkness.

I am rattled awake, yet again by a strange noise. At first I think it to be some sort of ringing but I quickly realize it is the tires of Tyler’s car screeching to a halt. “We’re here.” He says, relieved. I step out of the car; the night is cold and wet. I feel lost and confused, it takes me a minute to adjust to my surroundings; but once I have I feel more at home, more terrified than I ever have before. For some reason though the only thing on my mind is how tired I am. I turn to Tyler and say, “Thank you for doing this for me.” He gives me a nod as if he understands something I do not; I almost say something to him but instead I turn and head inside. With the moon shining down on me, highlighting every barely discernible imperfection, every fear, every doubt...i just begin to grasp the magnitude of what is happening but as I do Tyler's voice once again rings in my head, "Only you can decide where your home is; that's no one else's choice to make." I strain my eyes open. I smell the faint scent of eggs cooking and coffee brewing, as if it had wafted off some mountain top and was sluggishly creeping towards me. The multiplying red lines criss-crossing like a road-map.....I need to find a bed.

Marsh Remodels

 Paige Chambers

The Marsh store on McGalliard and Wheeling, and also the one on Tillotson have begun remodeling in efforts to make the stores look nicer. The stores started construction at the beginning of the year and should be finished by March 31st. The stores will both hold grand re-openings within a week and a half.

Changes to the stores include: new paint on the walls, ceilings, registers, new flooring, a completely new produce section, a new floral department, and the isles have also been rearranged for customer convenience. At the McGalliard store, a painting of ball state's football field has been completed over the produce department. Also, all new deli, meat, and seafood cases have been added.

The newest change is the carryout carts added to the front of the store. Although most carryouts are against them, they were put into place in order to improve our customer service.
     "The carryout carts are used so all customers have their groceries taken outside. Our customers are very important to us and we want them to feel welcomed and also to come see us again. Marsh is one of the only grocery stores that employs and uses carryouts full time, we are known for this and it's a great feeling to help our customers to the fullest of our ability", said Mrs. Grubb, the manager of the McGalliard and Wheeling store.

As an employee at this Marsh, I am personally ready for the construction to be over. It can be difficult to work around at times. I think the stores are going to look very nice and professional once completed, but I do feel as the carryout carts are going to be a big hassle, as they have already been in the past week we have had them.

Never Let Me Go

 Faulkner Allocco

Never Let Me Go is a 2010 British drama film based on Kazuo Ishiguro’s 2005 novel of the same name. Mark Romanek directed the film and Alex Garland wrote the screenplay. It stars Academy Award nominees Carey Mulligan, Kiera Knightley and Andrew Garfield. Never Let Me Go centers on Kathy, Ruth, and Tommy, played respectively by Mulligan, Knightley, and Garfield, who become entangled in a love triangle. They are scientific specimens, created and raised in order to provide their organs to severely ill patients.

The idea of the film has been done before in the movie The Island starring Ewan McGregor and Scarlett Johansson, but theses movies are not at all similar. In Never Let Me Go the characters are new and the relationships are unique to the movie. Although the idea for the movies seems identical I did not feel like I was watching a copy of another movie. Never Let Me Go is purely it’s own masterpiece.

I felt like the plot of the movie got a little lost and could have been better, however the acting was above average. It was a little long and drawn out, however the overall message was inspiring. The movie was beautifully shot and the scenery was magnificent. Overall the movie was very depressing. If you are looking for a feel good love story or a lighthearted drama I do not recommend choosing this movie. However, if you are in the mood for an above average heart wrenching tragedy I would recommend watching this film.

Haiku

 Tanna Jones

Springtime

Spring is approaching.

Prepare for the falling rain.

The sun is shining.

Senior

School is ending now.

Time to say goodbye to friends.

New places await.

May term

Kylie Smith

Burris May Term is offering several fitness classes this year. These classes include: Fitness 101, Yoga, and Art walk. Fitness 101 is instructed by Science teacher Amy Miller. The class will be an introduction to fitness and will involve many trips, including to the rock climbing wall recently built on the new Ball State Gym . Yoga will be instructed by English teacher Cassie McGill. This class will introduce the basics of yoga, as well as give a morning stretch to students who take the course. Art Walk will be instructed by art teacher Lilly Stokes and students will spend time walking around and drawing things they encounter on their walk.

Junior Molly Boylan said, "I'm really looking forward to having yoga class because I've heard it's really fun!"

In The End

Jamie Trost  

Academy Senior

In the end, she couldn’t bring herself to regret it. In the end, she couldn’t feel guilty, couldn’t feel the pain of what had happened, couldn’t bring herself to the reality that-yes, in fact- by helping them she had hurt herself. In the end, she realized that what had happened had happened not only because she had subconsciously wanted it to happen, but because, within the dark, deep, hidden crevasses of her mind, she had needed it to happen. She stopped focusing on the pain within herself, and focused on the feeling that her actions had emanated towards other people. ‘I can feel happy,’ she convinced herself, “because I am happy.”

But in the end, she felt only nothing.

When it had happened, she was confused. Was he really asking her to do this? Had he really wanted her to prove her loyalty this much, this COMPLETELY, that he was pleading her to act against any reasoning, any sound theories she might have held, in order to make him happy? Was it even happiness he sought, or was it merely the satisfaction of her unstoppable loyalty? She had loved him, then; and in loving him, she had transferred the love. For love is a substance that, while fragile and pure, cannot expand, cannot merely be created and distributed; but rather, love must be taken from within oneself and handed to others. Once gone, love is irreplaceable, only able to be filled with love received and love returned, but never recreated. Yes, she had transferred the love, once held so tightly to her own bosom, to him. And, in asking her that which he had so boldly asked, he stole from her whatever love remained clasped to her soul.

She wanted to do it. Looking back, she pondered that, given less time for consideration, allowed fewer minutes alone with her thoughts, she would have done it; but, alas, it was then he walked away. He left, leaving with her a choice that, slowly, ultimately, and wholly, began to consume her. She realized that in complying with his wishes, she would be granted happiness. Happiness, perhaps, that would not measure to that happiness whose amount was sought, maybe; but still, she desired more to be partially happy than to meet the possibility of never visualizing the quantity of bliss she dreamed.

That day, she took a right, instead of following him left. She watched the warehouse disappear into the distance as she took her turn of walking away; however, she refused to see it as such. Instead of leaving, she imagined her purpose, sought to envision it in the sense that she was REFUSING to leave him, refusing to allow him the satisfaction of the poison that would destroy him. She walked with purpose, refusing to let the objective steal away from her mind’s eye. She had so little faith in her strength that she clenched her fists, frightened that if she allowed herself little more than a moment of doubt, she would turn around, face the warehouse, and give in.

It took so little time. When she reached the building, she climbed the stone steps. After the last night’s rain, she felt it. On the walk, she had felt the moisture in the air clinging to her clothes, weighing her down and pulling her back, slowing her down as much as it could; even now, as she trudged resolutely up the steps, she felt the cold of the stone seep through her shoes and soak her soul. She shivered as she grasped the door handle, pulled the doors open, stepped inside, and sought out the lieutenant.

________________________________________________________________________

When he was released three years later, almost to the day, he sought her out. She knew he would, and yet she misunderstood the reason he sought her. The fear she held in her heart- the same fear that had refused to allow her to visit him in his drug-affiliated incarceration- left paranoia in its wake, and so when she heard of his parole, due to good behavior, she pondered frantically. She found nowhere to hide physically, and so she attempted to recede so far into herself as to deny him entry.

But still he came.

He came around lunchtime, and the knock at the door was as soft as the footsteps of a curious child on Christmas morning. Still, though unheard, she opened the door. She had felt him there, and at that moment, she felt herself burst through the wall she had mentally created. Who was she kidding? She could not hide from him! How could she hide her heart, when it was he who owned the most of it?

She felt her very being stutter as she looked at the man on the mantle of her door. The man, now clean-shaven, who held but the vaguest physical resemblance to the person he once was. His eyes, the only part of him still recognizable, she sought and held, clinging to the truth of having him back. She waited for the pain, waited for the anger to strike out at her, and she closed her eyes.

The whisper on the wind, even softer than the door, sighed at her. “Thank you,” it said. “Thank you,” he whispered as his arms encapsulated her trembling body. All at once the sobs shook loose from their bodies, a mixture of hers and his, sorrow and happiness, relief.

They entered the house, sitting at the kitchen counter with their coffees, both black, as they had ten times before. The cups steadily grew cold, both refusing to drink- for to drink would be to admit to the old times, the old ways and customs. And yet they both knew that never again would they drink the coffee. Never again would they argue about the drugs. Never again would he ask her to relinquish her soul to his.

New times. New beings. New souls. New love. She reached across the table and took his hand, already feeling the tender reach of his spirit begin to patch her wounded heart.

“Let me make us some tea,” she said.

Regional Olympiad of Spoken Russian

Jamie Trost  

Academy Senior

This past Saturday 16 Academy Russian language students participated in the ACTR Illinois/Indiana Regional Olympiad of Spoken Russian held in Burris. The event is sponsored by the University of Chicago, University of Illinois, and Indiana University. Three schools participated – Indiana Academy, Rickover Naval Academy [Chicago], and Noble Street College Preparatory School [Chicago]. Four levels of participation were involved: Level 1, Level 2, Level 3, and Native Speaker. On behalf of these students and our excellent Russian Instructor Mrs. Rogers, I forward the results. The Academy gathered the most gold medals. Congratulations!

Kalah Gallapoo [Level 2] was the grand prize winner receiving the most points from all 32 participants.

GOLD MEDALS

Jonah Siegel – Level 1

Lauren Snyder – Level 1

Sydny Bohuk – Level 1

Emily McLaren – Level 1

Taylor Hubble – Level 2

Rebecca Thomas – Level 2

Leeah Worley – Level 2

Kalah Gallapoo – Level 2

SILVER MEDALS

Brandon Downs – Level 1

Ryan Clifton – Level 1

Rachel Speer – Level 1

Caroline Strange – Level 1

Autumn Delk – Level 2

Evan Kalember – Level 2

BRONZE MEDALS

Matenya Batchelder – Level 1

Dennis Coffey – Level 1