Lin 1

Table of Contents

All Who Dare to Wander (First Draft)... ...3

All Who Dare to Wander (Final Draft)... ...5

In Thought/Blue Line (First Draft)... ...7

Blue Line (Final Draft)... ...12

Do You Have a Boyfriend Yet? (First Draft)... ...18

Do You Have a Boyfriend Yet? (Final Draft)... ...24

This Sort of Story/Wishing To Fly, Daring To Fall (First Draft)... ...32

Wishing To Fly, Daring To Fall (Final Draft)... ...34

Defined: A Collection of the Most Used... ...40

Hydrangea (First Draft)... ...43

Hydrangea (Final Draft)... ...47

Lost and Found (Novel Revision)... ...54

Love Medicine Reflection #1... ...58

Love Medicine Reflection #2... ...60

Love Medicine Reflection #3... ...62

Love Medicine Reflection #4... ...64

One Day Silent, Years Left Unsaid/Quiet (Rough Draft)... ...66

Quiet: A Deafening Aftermath (Final Draft)... ...70

RE: Your Voicemail/You Touched the Lava (First Draft)... ...77

RE: You Touched the Lava (Second Draft)... ...81

RE: You Touched the Lava (Third Draft)... ...85

RE: You Touched the Lava (Final Draft)... ...89

Response to Readers: Katie... ...93

Panda Bear (First Draft)... ...95

Panda Bear (Final Draft)... ...97

 Lin 2

All Who Dare to Wander (First Draft)

We see our futures through the smoke of the incense we burn for our ancestors during bai

san, the promise of finding a devoted spouse and providing three sons faint on our tongues. Our

mothers pray for their daughters to be eternally faithful to their husbands, and our fathers pray

for their sons to work hard to earn money for their children. We nod as we listen to the

whispered prayers of our parents. We dont whisper our prayers. We keep our mouths shut, lest

we want to remember the disappointment in our parents faces as they engrave discipline in our

skin.

I am born neither a son nor a daughter, but my mother stills pray for my future husband,

and my father still hopes for his grandchildren. I swallow down the acid of correcting my parents

out of respect for my ancestors. I feel my ancestors pondering over where my loyalty lies as they

observe my actions in this life just as they did for my last.

In another time, our ancestors once watched as we cut our sleeves for the passionate

affair between our Emperor Ai and his lover Dong Xian, but they spewed condemnation later as

they skimmed through the written history of our gay emperor. Our ancestors leered over Dong

Xian, counting his days when the emperor fell ill as they praised Ban Gu for recording such a

precious moment between lovers.

We dont doubt for a second that our ancestors would parade their disgust in public if we

didnt keep our love affairs in private. We didnt all descend from the royal court, the only

acceptable group of homosexuals in China in written words. Unless our lives fall under the

classical genres of young lesbian tales or secret relations with the male concubines, we are

placed under the label of failure and dishonor on our families.

 Lin 3

I am neither a young lesbian nor an emperor cheating on his queen with a male

concubine, but at least my gender is acceptable for the label of failure and dishonor on our

families. My inclination to be loyal to the blood my ancestors have shed is weakened by my

preference to love who I love. I pour the rice wine and spread out the fried fensi as my parents

pray to compensate for my insolence.

Our destiny isnt as clear as our mothers and fathers make it out to be. We dont always

find the answers to our questions in the writings of our ancestors. They never loved like we did.
 Lin 4

All Who Dare to Wander (Final Draft)

We see our futures in the smoke of the incense we burn for our ancestors during bai san,

the veneration ceremony for the legacy we are told to cherish burning a picture of pride in us as

we remember the generations of blood spilled for our beloved emperors. The promise of finding

a devoted spouse and providing three sons is beat into us with the back of a butchers knife until

it is faint on our tongues. We watch as our mothers pray for their daughters to be eternally

faithful to their husbands, and our fathers pray for their sons to find high-paying jobs to provide

for their children. We nod as we listen to the whispered prayers of our parents, and we keep our

mouths shut, lest we want to remember the abhorrence flooding into our parents eyes as they

promise to engrave discipline into our skin later.

I swallow down the acid of correcting my mother as she prays for my future husband or

my father as he prays for his future grandsons out of respect for my ancestors. I feel the heat of

my ancestors as they observe me with eyes as sharp as the Vermillion Bird, the God of Fire

peering at the path I have chosen with disappointment as they perch in one of their Seven

Manors. In all Seven Manors, my ancestors review my lifes choices and wonder why I didnt

choose the life they laid out for me to take just as they did for the descendants before me, why I

didnt choose the life of finding a future husband to be eternally faithful to.

We dont hear about the tales of how a very, very long time ago, our beloved Emperor Ai

and Empress Fu failed to consummate their marriage because our beloved Emperor Ai was gay,

that his failure was a matter of lack of time rather than his homosexual affair with Dong Xian,

his right-hand man. Our parents follow in our ancestors footsteps as they spew condemnation
 Lin 5

for our gay Emperor Ai, especially when they tell the story of how he publicized his passionate

homosexual affair to the entire royal court with only a cut sleeve.

I imagine the moment Emperor Ai woke up from his afternoon nap with Dong Xian by

his side as I pour the rice wine and spread out the fried fensi as offerings for my ancestors, the

soft warmth of the summer sun blanketing the two lovers as they relax in the royal gardens away

from the eyes of my ancestors. I hear the fond sigh that comes from Emperor Ai as he caresses

the sleeping face of Dong Xian, taking in the vulnerability of my emperor when he is around the

man he sacrificed his power for. I watch as Emperor Ai refuses to wake up Dong Xian, cutting

off the sleeve his lover is resting on from his robe to allow him a few more moments of rest.

We dont doubt that our ancestors would parade their disgust in public if our beloved

Emperor Ai wasnt of royal blood. We didnt all descend from the beloved Emperors and

Empresses, the only homosexuals in China who didnt constantly encounter hateful sneers and

open protests to their love. Our ancestors leered over Dong Xian after our Emperor Ai fell ill,

counting the days until his protection from his enemies would run out. Unless our lives fell under

the classical genres of young lesbian tales or secret relations with concubines, we are placed

under the labels of failure and dishonor on our bloodlines.

Our destiny isnt as clear as our mothers and fathers make it out to be. We dont always

find the answers to our questions in the writings of our scholar ancestors or the prophecies of our

Gods. They never loved like we did.

 Lin 6

In Thought/Blue Line (First Draft)

Often times, I find discomfort in venturing beyond the land of faint airplanes ringing in

the background, the dull noise of the cars speeding down the highway, and the constant alarms

sounding the departure of the firetrucks and ambulances. The concept of getting somewhere

without the assistance of my parents or older sister is lost to me, though the irony of not knowing

my way around a city I grew up in is not.

I was always isolated within the chain link fences bordering my neighborhood. The only

route in Chicago I knew by heart was the one that followed the hallways of my elementary

school, scouring for empty classrooms I could occupy for the entirety of recess. Until I hit my

first year of high school, my parents would make it very clear to me that traveling on my own

was absolutely forbidden, and that going outside of our small neighborhood would result in me

getting hurt one way or another.

The thought was ridiculous to me- I thought, how could I get hurt anywhere in Chicago

as long as I knew my way around? But the thought of me getting hurt was enough to strike

paranoia in me; enough for me to constantly whisper to the GPS on my phone questions of

doubt. Am I really going the right way? Is this really the quickest way for me to take? Will it

really take this long for me to reach my destination? If my sister put so much trust into her

phones GPS to guide her to Chinatown, a place we had been visiting every other weekend since

we were kids, then maybe I could learn to have the same faith in my handheld navigator.

After an entire year of using the CTA system, I was proud to say I was a decent expert in

navigating my way through Chicago by my sophomore year. So, when my Creative Nonfiction

teacher invited me to attend a workshop for National Novel Writing Month at StoryStudio, a
 Lin 7

small building in the Irving Park area. I confidently believed that I was able to get there on my

own without much assistance. I planned beforehand, making note of what to take to the

workshop, what my goals were for the workshop, and most importantly, how to get there. With a

good amount of planning done, I believed that I was able to attend the workshop on my own

without any problem.

Later, I learned, there were many problems.

There was a convoluted feeling in the pits of my stomach as I got on the bus after

departing from the Irving Park stop; something I couldnt quite place was dragging my legs to

stop them from boarding the bus and telling my hands to stop tapping my Ventra card to ask the

bus driver if I was going the right way. Instead, I sat down with my eyes already skimming the

list of stops I was eventually going to pass if I did happen to get on the right bus. I tapped on my

phone screen, refreshing the page many times to check if the progress I made in my trip was

good progress or bad progress.

Did I make the right decision to do this, I asked my phone as I watched my navigation

marker move painfully slow across the screen. Will I regret trusting in you, despite you never

failing me or my sister in our times of need? The silence I received from my phone was more

than enough for me to consider asking someone around me for confirmation on where I was

going. I looked away from my phone screen to scan the bus, hoping someone could help me.

There werent very many people on the bus, but the dread clawing at my throat to speak

to someone was unbearable, and I needed to know if my worries were warranted or not. Quietly,

I wondered if anyone could sense the fear that was dripping out of my pores, but I shrugged off
 Lin 8

the thought as I decided to speak to the person sitting closest to me. I tapped them politely on the

shoulder and patiently waited for them to remove their headphones before speaking.

Is this bus going east-bound? I asked, trying hard to convince them that I wasnt some

lost kid on their way to a writing workshop.

The person seemed confused for a split second, not really understanding me at first.

When realization hit them, they formed an o-shape with their mouth and shrugged their

shoulders. They scratched the back of their neck.

I dont really know which way is west or east, but if youre looking for Cumberland,

then I can tell you were going the right way, they concluded. They asked, Does that help a

little?

I smiled politely, not wanting to reveal the panic I felt inside. Yes, that helps a lot,

actually. Thank-you.

I got off at the next bus-stop, crossing the street quickly to avoid letting anyone feel the

embarrassment radiating off of my being. It happened again, I thought. I had messed up again.

This isnt the first time this happened, I reminded myself in order to keep myself from cursing

out of frustration. It couldve been much worse. I couldve tripped as I got off the bus. I couldve

became visibly upset and began crying on the bus. I couldve continued sitting on the bus,

fighting the urge to get up and leave; my pride getting the best of me.

When I was younger, I misread a lot of social cues. Sarcasm was a foreign concept to me,

and I often found myself upset whenever someone attempted to tease me. It became worse as I

entered 6th grade; the climax of my social life. I spent most of my recesses with my friends,
 Lin 9

Isabeau, Tevy, and Emilena. Isabeau was popular, and as a result, we usually sat with a group of

popular boys, including the one she happened to have a crush on: Nate.

One day, my friend group and Nates friend group sat together during recess as per usual.

We were all discussing the topic of who we would take to the Halloween Dance, which in

elementary school terms meant who we were considering about dating. Since Isabeau had a

crush on Nate, she said nothing about who she would take to the dance. Emilena and Tevy took

this as a sign to tease her relentlessly, hinting at her crush.

Oh, Isabeau, Emilena began, Why so quiet? You wouldnt happen to be scared of

letting a certain someone know youre interested, would you?

Tevy joined in, chuckling as she said, Yeah, Izzy. Why so shy? Im sure hed love to

know your opinion right about now!

Knock if off, you two, Isabeau mumbled, clearly not interested in playing Emilena and

Tevys game. Im not in the mood.

I, on the other hand, was confused. If Isabeau liked Nate, why wouldnt she just tell him

right here, right now? The topic was brought up, so its not like she would be dropping a surprise

bomb on him if she mentioned it. If anything, it was befitting of the occasion.

Hey, Izzy, I started off, Why not though?

Something inside of me twisted and turned, telling me that what I was about to say was a

bad idea- that I shouldnt reveal Isabeau like this. However, I already caught everyones eyes,

especially Nates. He was curious of what I had to say, and so was everyone else in his friend

group. Emilena and Tevy laughed at first, but deep down, I think they knew I was making a big

mistake, too. Isabeau, with her cheeks tinted pink and brows furrowed harshly, glared at me.
 Lin 10

Nate, why dont you ask Isabeau to go with you to the dance? You know, shes been

waiting for you to do it for so long-

Isabeau smacked my arm, but it wasnt playfully. Why did you have to say it like that?!

Cant you read the mood? What part of me saying, Knock it off, dont you understand? It

means I dont want him to know, idiot!

Isabeau stormed off immediately after. Emilena and Tevy shrugged it off, telling me not

to think too much about it before they trailed after her. Eventually, Nate and his friends left to go

find the raging Isabeau as well, leaving me behind, alone in the wake of my embarrassment. I sat

quietly, going over the course of events in my head, wondering why I did that. Would Isabeau

never forgive me? Was I out of the friend group like Olivia when she made Isabeau angry before,

too? Would I go back to the days of spending recess alone inside of some empty classroom

instead of sitting with my friends?

I felt nauseous. I wanted to reset the last few moments over again to avoid exposing

Isabeaus crush on Nate to he and his friends. My pride prevented me from getting up and

apologizing to Isabeau straight away. I was too busy replaying the words, It means I dont want

him to know, idiot! in my head over and over again. I wondered many things in my moments

alone on the concrete curbs of the parking lot right next to the school playground.
 Lin 11

Blue Line (Final Draft)

CTA Bus 80, Westbound to Irving Park/Cumberland

When I was younger, I misread a lot of social cues. Sarcasm was a foreign concept to me,

and I often found myself upset whenever someone attempted to tease me. It became worse as I

entered 6th grade, the climax of my social life. I spent most of my recesses with my friends,

Isabeau, Tevy, and Emilena. Isabeau was popular, and as a result, we usually sat with a group of

popular boys, including the one she happened to have a crush on: Nate.

One day, my friend group and Nates friend group sat together during recess as per usual.

We were all discussing the topic of who we would take to the Halloween Dance, which in

elementary school terms meant who we were wanting to date. Since Isabeau had a crush on Nate,

she said nothing about who she would take to the dance. Emilena and Tevy took this as a sign to

tease her relentlessly, hinting at her crush.

Oh, Isabeau, Emilena began, Why so quiet? You wouldnt happen to be scared of

letting a certain someone know youre interested, would you?

Tevy joined in, chuckling as she said, Yeah, Izzy. Why so shy? Im sure hed love to

know your opinion right about now!

Knock if off, you two, Isabeau mumbled, clearly not interested in playing Emilena and

Tevys game. Im not in the mood.

I, on the other hand, was confused. If Isabeau liked Nate, why wouldnt she just tell him

right here, right now? The topic was brought up, so its not like she would be dropping a surprise

bomb on him if she mentioned it. If anything, it was befitting of the occasion.

Hey, Izzy, I started off, Why not though?

 Lin 12

Something inside of me twisted and turned, telling me that what I was about to say was a

bad idea, that I shouldnt reveal Isabeau like this. However, I already caught everyones eyes,

especially Nates. He was curious about what I had to say, and so was everyone else in his friend

group. Emilena and Tevy laughed at first, but deep down, I think they knew I was making a big

mistake, too. Isabeau, with her cheeks tinted pink and brows furrowed harshly, glared at me.

Nate, why dont you ask Isabeau to go with you to the dance? You know, shes been

waiting for you to do it for so long--

Isabeau smacked my arm, but it wasnt playfully. Why did you have to say it like that?!

Cant you read the mood? What part of me saying, Knock it off, dont you understand? It

means I dont want him to know, idiot!

Isabeau stormed off immediately. Emilena and Tevy shrugged it off, telling me not to

think too much about it before they trailed after her. Eventually, Nate and his friends left to go

find the raging Isabeau as well, leaving me behind, alone in the wake of my embarrassment. I sat

quietly, going over the course of events in my head. Would Isabeau never forgive me? Was I out

of the friend group like Olivia when she made Isabeau angry before, too? Would I go back to the

days of spending recess alone inside of some empty classroom instead of sitting with my friends?

I felt nauseous. I wanted to reset the last few moments over again to avoid exposing

Isabeaus crush on Nate to him and his friends. My wounded pride prevented me from getting up

and apologizing to Isabeau straight away. I was too busy replaying the words, It means I dont

want him to know, idiot! in my head over and over again.

CTA Bus 80, Westbound: Irving Park/Sheridan

 Lin 13

I knew from the minute I stepped onto the bus directly after leaving the Irving Park Blue

Line El stop that something was off.

There was a convoluted feeling in the pit of my stomach; my insecurities were dragging

my legs, urging them to stop boarding the bus and telling my hands to stop tapping my Ventra

card to ask the bus driver if I was going the right way. Instead, however, I ignored all of these

feelings and opted to sit down, my eyes skimming my phone screen for the list of stops I was

eventually going to pass, refreshing the page many times to check if the progress I was making

was good or bad.

Did I make the right decision to do this, I asked my phone as I watched my navigation

marker move painfully slow across the screen. Will I regret trusting in you, despite you never

failing me or my sister in our times of need? The silence I received from my phone was more

than enough for me to heavily consider asking someone around me for confirmation on where I

was going.

My Creative Nonfiction teacher invited me to attend a workshop in my sophomore year

of high school for National Novel Writing Month at StoryStudio, a small building in the Irving

Park area, and I confidently believed that I would be able to get there on my own without any

assistance. I had planned beforehand, making note of what to take to the workshop, what my

goals were for the workshop, and most importantly, how to get there. It had already been an

entire year since I began using the CTA system, so I was proud to say I was a decent expert at

navigating my way through Chicago.

Later, I learned, my pride in my own abilities was not exactly a good thing.

CTA Bus 80, Westbound: Irving Park/Wolcott

 Lin 14

I scanned the bus quietly to seek out someone to ask for directions. There werent very

many people on the bus, but the dread clawing at my throat to speak to someone was unbearable,

and I needed to know immediately if my worries were warranted or not. Briefly, I wondered if

anyone else pressed the pause button on their life to rewind back what they just experienced or if

it was just me wishing my life was fast-forwarding to being archived in the stack of recordings

tucked away in a cardboard box somewhere, but I shrugged off the thought as I settled on asking

the nearest person sitting next to me. I tapped them politely on the shoulder and waited as they

took off their headphones.

Im sorry to bother you, but could you tell me if this bus is going eastbound? I asked,

trying hard to convince them (and maybe, myself) that I wasnt some lost kid.

The person seemed confused for a second. When the realization of what I meant hit them,

they formed an o-shape with their mouth and shrugged their shoulders. They scratched the back

of their neck, and I instinctively rubbed the back of mine as I felt an empty, cold feeling creep

along my spine.

Ill be honest-- I dont really know which way is west or east, but if youre looking for

Cumberland, then I can tell you that were going the right way, they concluded. They asked,

Does that help a little?

Does it help a little, I echoed in my mind. Maybe? I glanced at my phone with hope of

catching a glimpse of Cumberland anywhere on my screen, but I never saw it. I blanked out for a

minute, my fragmented thoughts rushing to make sense out of the jumbled mess of unease and

fear. Then, it hit me. My cross-street is Cumberland, and I live in the northwest area of Chicago.
 Lin 15

Of course, Cumberland was the westbound destination. Of course, I was an idiot for not realizing

the connection any sooner.

Yeah, I began, making sure to politely smile as I said, That helps a lot, actually.

Thank-you so much.

Why didnt I remember where Cumberland was sooner? Why did it take me four bus

stops to realize that I wasnt following the path laid out to me so plainly on the brightly lit screen

of my phone? Everything was so clear, and yet I still managed to miss the point of everything

and continue on a path that would lead to disappointment.

Disappointment in the situation or in myself, Ill never be able to distinguish.

CTA Bus 80, Eastbound to Irving Park/Broadway

80 Irving Park/Broadway: 10 MIN, I read from my seat at the bus stop, eyes glued to

the bright red sign as if urging it with my stare would have changed 10 MIN to DUE.

It happened again, I thought. I messed up again. It wasnt the first time I made a mistake,

and it surely wouldnt be my last, I reminded myself in order to keep myself from cursing out

loud in frustration. It couldve been much worse. I couldve tripped as I exited the bus to cross

the street. I couldve become visibly upset and cried tears out of the anger I held for my own

mistakes. I couldve continued to sit on the bus, alone in the wake of my embarrassment, my

wounded pride preventing me from getting up and leaving.

I didnt have any alternatives to fall back on in that moment. I didnt have the security of

the chain-link fences bordering my neighborhood to keep me away from the foreign part of

Chicago outside of faint airplanes ringing in the background, dull noises of cars speeding down

the highway, and the constant alarms of departing firetrucks and ambulances. I didnt have the
 Lin 16

empty classrooms I found after wandering the hallways of my elementary school during recess to

hide away in.

I was alone in the moments I waited for the next bus to arrive to take me towards the

correct direction. I didnt have to be at the workshop at any specific time, but I still felt

displeasure bubble in the back of my throat, the constant threat of self-deprecation threatening to

spill out at any second.

CTA Bus 80, Eastbound: Irving Park/Pioneer

I swallowed down my thoughts as soon as I got on what I was sure to be the correct (and

final) bus. I tried to calm down, repeating a mantra of reassurance to myself in order to remind

myself that yes, I was finally going the right way, and no, this wasnt the end of the world.

I turned off my phone, the desire to attach my eyes to the screen disappearing with every

passing bus stop. I turned my attention to the scenery outside of the window instead, settling on

listening to the bus announce its arrival at certain stops to keep me updated on where I was

going.

CTA Bus 80, Eastbound: Irving Park/Ravenswood

I arrived at the bus stop that marked the end of my journey into unknown territory.

Deciding that the storm of restlessness and anxiety has long passed, I walked towards the

building where the workshop was being held, my feet carrying me through the drizzling rain of

doubt.

I walked, alone in my thoughts, soothing my wounded pride as I carried myself to

continue on with my day.

 Lin 17

Do You Have a Boyfriend Yet? (First Draft)

Do you have a boyfriend yet?

I turn to catch my fathers gaze over my shoulder, aimlessly stirring the vegetables in the

saucepan in front of me. The steam rises to call for my attention, but I shrug it off and smile

politely at my father.

Do you think I need a boyfriend, baba? I ask, chuckling to myself. Boys are dumb.

My father laughs, agreeing, Boys are very dumb. He takes a sip of his whiskey--I can

smell it over the soy sauce seeping into the vegetables from here--and sighs. Why cook if no

boyfriend? Baba and mama can cook for you. No boyfriend, no cooking. Too much work.

Its too much work to get a boyfriend, I counter.

My father tsks and turns back to where his cellphone is propped up against the

half-empty bottle of rum on the dining table, and I can hear the actors in his Chinese drama

spewing hasty love confessions and death threats over the sizzling pan. The main female

character is sobbing again as she clutches onto her lover, begging him not to leave her alone and

vulnerable, unable to protect herself. Theres a little more shouting between her lover and

another man who says he can protect her better than her lover can, and their swords clank

together in an effort to battle for the female characters heart.

I wonder if my father ever thought about someone hed like to fight for, if he ever loved

someone like that before in his life. No matter how many times my father takes care of my

mother when she needs him the most, he will always spit out the title of wife with not a hint of

affection in his voice. Walgreens always portrays happy couples in packages of wedding day

prints, but in the portrait hanging in a spare room of ours, neither of them are smiling. We used
 Lin 18

to keep it in the living room, a proud display for all of their friends to glance over whenever they

come over for mahjong, but my mother decided that it didnt sit well with the flowers she

decorated the room with in following years.

The flowers were wanted. The portrait wasnt.

I hope your boyfriend is smarter than him, my father says, pointing to his cellphone

screen with his chopsticks. Very stupid, you know? Not strong enough to fight the general to

get a girlfriend. Why do that?

I laugh and shake my head. Because he loved her, baba. Lots of people do stupid things

for love.

Very stupid.

---

Have you thought about who youll marry in the future?

I roll my eyes at Emilenas question and shake my head. She and Tevy are gushing over

potentially cute boys in our school as I scoot away slowly in my seat. Tevy and Djamel started

dating just last week, and the new relationship sparks an atmoshpere of dreamy couple goals and

date talk within our friend group.

Emilena claps a hand on her chest. I see myself marrying Harry Styles, and were going

to have the cutest beach wedding ever. I can see it now: the sun just starting to set, faint violins

playing in the distance, and my bridesmaids crying their eyes out. All of 1D will be there, too, as

Harrys best man.

I tease, Calm down, Mrs. Styles. I can see your heart eyes all the way from here.
 Lin 19

Emilena sticks a tongue at me. Whatever! Anyway, she pauses, turning to Tevy. She

raises an eyebrow and smirks, continuing, What about you and Djamel? Are you guys planning

your wedding yet or should I pretend that Im not maid of honor yet?

In your dreams, Em. Besides, me and Djamel dont want anything fancy, Tevy says,

slapping Emilenas shoulder playfully. Think Princess Diaries for like the actual clothes and

stuff, but the ceremony will be like a backyard thing or something.

Emilena gushes, Aw! Modest weddings are so cute.

Across the room, Olivia chimes in, Is he going to meet the parents soon?

I glance over at Tevy to see her chuckle nervously to herself and continue to chat with

Emilena about cute boys. She mumbles something about not wanting anyone to really come

over, and I tilt my head at her. We lock eyes, and she gives me a soft smile before changing the

topic in her conversation with Emilena.

The first time I visited her house, she told me about how her parents are rarely home, and

when they are, its just her mother. Her mother works late and closer to the city, so Tevy is

typically left late at home. I remember seeing a wedding portrait of her parents in the kitchen,

just next to the lunar calendar with crossed out dates and hastily written notes in a mixture of

Cambodian and English. Her parents with in mid-ceremony when it the portrait was taken, her

mothers face obscured by a veil while her fathers face was turned to focus on the table.

None of them were smiling, Tevy told me when she caught me staring. My mom had

a boyfriend before they got married. She wanted to go to college, too, but then she had to marry

my dad for some reason. Mom doesnt really talk about it.
 Lin 20

We hear Djamels table of friends across the room, the laughter overpowering our

conversation, and Emilena nudges Tevys shoulder. Tevy waves at her boyfriend before blowing

a kiss, and Djamel turns away with a smile on his face.

I lean close to Tevy, whispering, Do you see you guys lasting for a while?

Id like to, she replies, softly, I dont wanna end up like my mom. My kids deserve

better than that. My mom, too.

---

When will you have kids?

I grimace, tightening my hands around each other until I feel the ghost of nails digging

into my skin. I try to focus on other things around me: the look of blooming red scratch marks,

the buzzing of the fish tank in my living room, and Carol, my cousin, shifting uncomfortably on

the couch.

Yi yi, never, I breathe out, already feeling tired of this conversation. I dont want to

have kids for a very, very long time.

My aunt clicks her tongue, shaking her head. No good! Look at me. I have five very

pretty daughters, and I am happy. Very happy with kids. She moves her hand to caress my hips,

and I grow uncomfortable. Your hips? Very good for babies! You will be very good to have

babies when you get married. If only you stopped being so fat.

Ignore her, Carol says to me, frowning. Shes been like this ever since we went to the

baby shower last week. Shes been bugging Anna to have kids, too.

I nod, understanding. My father was the same way just a few days ago when my older

sister was home. We were sitting around the dining table with my older brother when my father
 Lin 21

pointed out his age to us and told us how much he wanted grandchildren before he died. He was

drinking his whiskey again--a few more glasses in his system than usual--when he asked my

sister and brother to have children soon.

Henry, do you have a girlfriend yet? my father asks, eyeing my brother over the rim of

his whiskey glass. Ada has boyfriend. You need to have girlfriend soon, too. Or else very

lonely.

My brother huffs. Baba, dont be silly. I dont have time for a girlfriend. Im trying hard

to study everyday, and I have to work at the dining hall, remember? When would I ever need a

girlfriend for that?

Aiya, my father groans, Too busy! Thats what bebe said, too. No time for boyfriend,

baba, too busy. Ada busy too, and she have boyfriend. I just want you to have babies for me to

take care of.

I shift around in my seat, zeroing in on my already-empty rice bowl. I dont want to push

myself to eat more, but itd be rude to leave the dinner table when its so rare to have both my

sister and my brother home, so I decide to stay. My sister is laughing at my father right next to

my brother, and she leans onto my brothers shoulder.

Hes right. You should get a girlfriend so that you could get around and live a little.

What do you even do on the weekends? Gaming? Sleeping? Nothing? My sister shakes her

head. I bet youre just saying youre busy to get us off your back.

My brother sighs, frustrated. I work at the dining hall every night--even on the

weekends, so dont look at me like that. Like I said, I dont have time for a girlfriend. No kids for

a very long time, baba. Get Ada to have babies.

 Lin 22

Hell no! My sister smacks my brother on his shoulder. I need money for babies. Baba,

if you want grandkids so bad, why dont you pay me? Ed and I arent even married yet, and

youre asking me for kids? Uh, uh, money first.

My father frowns, his gaze hard on my sister. Get new boyfriend so I can have

grandkids. Your boyfriend is no good. I want good kids and good son-in-law before I die.

Someone I can trust, okay? Go find new boyfriend.

My sister laughs, ignoring the insults my father spews about her boyfriend. Theyve been

dating for nine years, but my father still doesnt like him. My mother doesnt approve of his

family, always saying that hell be a liar just like his parents. Most of the time, my sister ignores

these comments and just continues dating him anyway. I wonder if she ever thinks about what

my parents say about her boyfriend, if he really is worth her time and if hell be a good husband.
 Lin 23

Do You Have a Boyfriend Yet? (Final Draft)

Do you have a boyfriend yet?

I turn to catch my fathers gaze over my shoulder, aimlessly stirring the vegetables in the

saucepan in front of me. The steam rises to call for my attention, but I shrug it off and smile

politely at my father.

Do you think I need a boyfriend, baba? I ask, chuckling to myself. Boys are dumb.

My father laughs, agreeing, Boys are very dumb. He takes a sip of his whiskey--I can

smell it over the soy sauce seeping into the vegetables--and sighs. Why cook if no boyfriend?

Baba and mama can cook for you. No boyfriend, no cooking. Too much work.

Its too much work to get a boyfriend, I counter.

My father tsks and turns back to his cellphone, propped up against the half-empty bottle

of whiskey on the dining table, and I can hear the actors in his Chinese drama spewing hasty love

confessions and death threats. The main female character is sobbing again as she clutches onto

her lover, begging him not to leave her alone and vulnerable, unable to protect herself. Theres a

little more shouting between her lover and another man who says he can protect her better than

he can, and their swords clank together in an effort to battle for her heart.

I wonder if my father ever thought about someone hed like to fight for, if he ever loved

someone like that before in his life. No matter how many times my father takes care of my

mother when she needs him the most, he will always spit out the title of wife with no hint of

affection in his voice. My mother parades my fathers title as husband only when its

convenient for her, decorating her WeChat profile page with heart emojis and broken english.

Everyone always tells her about how jealous they are of their marriage.
 Lin 24

Walgreens always portrays happy couples in packages of wedding day prints, but in the

portrait hanging in a spare room of ours, neither of them are smiling. It used to be a proud

display for all our guests to skim over, but my mother decided it didnt sit well with the

multitude of white lilies and pink orchids she filled our living with in the following years.

The flowers meant a life full of love and devotion, but the portrait never meant anything

close to that.

I hope your boyfriend is smarter than him, my father says, pointing to his cell phone

screen with his chopsticks. Very stupid, you know? Not strong enough to fight the general to

get a girlfriend. Why do that?

I laugh and shake my head. Because he loved her, baba. Lots of people do stupid things

for love.

Very stupid.

---

Have you thought about who youll marry in the future?

I roll my eyes at Emilenas question and shake my head. She and Tevy are gushing over

cute boys in our school as I scoot away slowly in my seat. Tevy and Djamel started dating just

last week, and the new relationship sparked an atmosphere of dreamy couple goals and date talk

within our friend group.

Emilena claps a hand on her chest. I see myself marrying Harry Styles, and were going

to have the cutest beach wedding ever. I can see it now: the sun just starting to set, faint violins

playing in the distance, and my bridesmaids crying their eyes out. All of 1D will be there, too, as

Harrys best men.

 Lin 25

I tease, Calm down, Mrs. Styles. I can see your heart eyes all the way from here.

Emilena sticks her tongue at me. Whatever! Anyway, she pauses, turning to Tevy. She

raises an eyebrow and smirks, What about you and Djamel? Are you guys planning your

wedding or should I pretend that Im not maid of honor yet?

In your dreams, Em. Besides, me and Djamel dont want anything fancy, Tevy says,

slapping Emilenas shoulder playfully. Think Princess Diaries for like the actual clothes and

stuff, but the ceremony will be like a backyard thing or something.

Emilena gushes, Aw! Modest weddings are so cute.

Across the room, Olivia chimes in, Is he going to meet the parents soon?

I glance over at Tevy to see her chuckle nervously to herself and continue to chat with

Emilena about cute boys. She mumbles something about not wanting anyone to really come

over, and I tilt my head at her. We lock eyes, and she gives me a soft smile before changing the

topic in her conversation with Emilena.

The first time I visited her house, she told me about how her parents are rarely home, and

when they are, its just her mother. Her mother works late and closer to the city, so Tevy is

typically home alone. I remember seeing a wedding portrait of her parents in the kitchen, just

next to the lunar calendar with crossed out dates and hastily written notes in a mixture of

Cambodian and English. The portrait was taken mid-ceremony, her mothers face obscured by a

veil while her fathers face was turned to focus on the table.

None of them were smiling, Tevy told me when she caught me staring. My mom had

a boyfriend before they got married. She wanted to go to college, too, but then she had to marry

my dad for some reason. Mom doesnt really talk about it.
 Lin 26

We hear Djamels table of friends across the room, the laughter overpowering our

conversation, and Emilena nudges Tevys shoulder. Tevy waves at her boyfriend before blowing

a kiss, and Djamel turns away with a smile on his face.

I lean close to Tevy, whispering, Do you see you guys lasting for a while?

Id like to, she replies, softly, I dont wanna end up like my mom. My kids deserve

better than that. My mom, too.

---

When will you have kids?

I grimace, tightening my hands around each other until I feel the blunt edge of my nails

digging into my skin, my knuckles paling to white. I try to focus on other things: the dull sting of

broken skin, the buzzing fish tank in my living room, and Carol, my cousin, shifting

uncomfortably on the couch.

Yi yi, never, I breathe out, already feeling tired of this conversation. I dont want to

have kids for a very, very long time.

My aunt clicks her tongue, shaking her head. No good! Look at me. I have five very

pretty daughters, and I am happy. Very happy with kids. She moves her hand to caress my hips,

and I grow uncomfortable. Your hips? Very good for babies! You will be very good to have

babies when you get married. If only you stopped being so fat.

Mama! Sorry, ignore her, Carol says to me, frowning. Shes been like this ever since

we went to the baby shower last week. Shes been bugging Anna to have kids, too.

I nod. My father was the same way just a few days ago when my older sister was home.

We were sitting around the dining table with my older brother when my father pointed out his
 Lin 27

age to us and told us how much he wanted grandchildren before he died. He was drinking his

whiskey again--a few more glasses in his system than usual--when he asked my sister and

brother to have children soon.

Henry, do you have a girlfriend yet? my father asks, eyeing my brother over the rim of

his whiskey glass. Ada has boyfriend. You need to have girlfriend soon, too. Or else very

lonely.

My brother huffs. Baba, dont be silly. I dont have time for a girlfriend. Im trying hard

to study everyday, and I have to work at the dining hall, remember? When would I get a

girlfriend?

Aiya, my father groans, Too busy! Thats what bebe said, too. No time for boyfriend,

baba, too busy. Ada busy too, and she have boyfriend. I just want you to have babies for me to

take care of.

I shift around in my seat, zeroing in on my already-empty rice bowl. I dont want to push

myself to eat more, but itd be rude to leave the dinner table when its so rare to have both my

sister and my brother home. My sister is laughing at my father, and she leans onto my brothers

shoulder.

Hes right. You should get a girlfriend so that you can live a little. What do you even do

on the weekends? Gaming? Sleeping? Nothing? My sister shakes her head. I bet youre just

saying youre busy to get us off your back.

My brother sighs, frustrated. I work at the dining hall every night--even on the

weekends, so dont look at me like that. Like I said, I dont have time for a girlfriend. No kids for

a very long time, baba. Get Ada to have babies.

 Lin 28

Hell no! My sister smacks my brother on his shoulder. I need money for babies. Baba,

if you want grandkids so bad, why dont you pay me? Ed and I arent even married yet, and

youre asking me for kids? Uh, uh, money first.

My father frowns, his gaze hard on my sister. Get new boyfriend so I can have

grandkids. Your boyfriend is no good. I want good kids and good son-in-law before I die.

Someone I can trust, okay? Go find new boyfriend.

My sister laughs, ignoring the insults my father spews about her boyfriend. Theyve been

dating for nine years, but my father still doesnt like him. My mother doesnt approve of his

family, always saying that hell be a liar just like his parents. They tell her that hes not worthy

enough to be a part of our family, and that hell never be a good husband. They tell my sister to

marry a nice Chinese man whos older than her so that shell never have to work hard again in

her life, and she tells them that shed rather die than rely on a man to provide for her.

Do you think Ed and I are good together? My sister asks me one day, hands fidgeting

in her lap. Like, do you actually see me marrying him and having his kids one day?

I shrug. Only if youre happy being with him.

She broke up with him three months ago, and she told me she wouldve broken up with

him even earlier if everyone on Facebook didnt place bets on when they would get married

every time she posted a selfie with him.

---

Why do you dress like that?

I glance down at myself on my boyfriends couch, and I try to pick out what could be

bothering him about my baggy Dirksen sweater and black leggings. Could he have been bothered
 Lin 29

by the fact that I was wearing just a thin tank top underneath my sweater, despite having seen me

stripped down to bare skin just an hour ago? Were there visible markings decorating my

collarbone, blotches of dark hues screaming our true meaning of studying to the world?

What do you mean? I ask, curious.

He frowns, thumbing the hem of my sweater. You need to show more skin, maybe wear

tighter clothes. You have curves, so why not show them off? And would it kill you to swing your

hips a little for me every now and then, babe?

My jaw clenches, and I bite back a Fuck off, Francis because were in his living room,

and his little sisters bedroom door is cracked open. Shes doing her social studies homework

while humming along to Taylor Swifts new song on iHeartRadio, dutifully staying in her room

like my boyfriend told her to. Im brought back to focusing on my boyfriend when I feel his

fingertips ghost a little too close to the waistband of my leggings, and I swat his hand away.

Iris is literally five feet away, I hiss, and I narrow my eyes at him. I dont have to do

anything you think I need to do. My bodys not yours, okay? Lay off.

His hands tighten around my hips, and I try to scoot away. Regret rolls down my spine in

a chilling wave when he starts to pull me closer to him, and I swallow back the bile of regret for

coming over when hes leaning over me. My eyes flicker to the hanging family photos behind

my boyfriends head, his parents laughing faces peering at me. His mothers arms were wrapped

around his fathers shoulders, their hands intertwined and wedding bands gleaming in the flash

of the camera. It hangs in the middle of the wall, surrounded by baby pictures of my boyfriend

and his little sister from family vacations and parties.

 Lin 30

I push against his chest. Im serious--lay off, Francis. I move to push him completely

off me, but he digs his fingers harder into my skin to pin me.

Where do you think youre going? He leans in closer to me, and I shift deeper into the

couch to lean away. Youve only been here for an hour. Whats the rush? Im not going to hurt

you, so just relax and let me do all the work, okay? Itll be good for you, I promise.
 Lin 31

This Sort of Story/Wishing To Fly, Daring To Fall (First Draft)

If there was one thing Chester always told me he wished for, it was that he could one day

clutter his room in the same cozy way that our friend Riley did; various posters and small awards

littering the walls until the only other place to decorate was on the decorations. There was a day

when all three of us were hanging out in Rileys room, and Chester couldnt take his eyes off of

the multitudes of picture frames and scribbles that were messily scattered across her room.

I always moved around, never stayed at a school for more than a year until sixth grade,

so I never established roots in a place. I still dont have any posters or anything in my room,

Chester admitted to me, I have boxes in my closet that I still havent opened yet because Im

going to get the stuff out, and then Im going to have to put it back inside because were going to

move again.

Born in Mississippi, Chester and his father moved around a lot, settling in places such as

New Jersey, California, Indiana, and eventually, Chicago. It was a little hectic jumping from

school to school, and it was never easy for Chester to make long-lasting friends. His school

experiences were multiple 180s, flipping from the Catholic school lifestyle in Indiana of bending

his knees at a ninety degree angle and purchasing clothes from an approved school brand to a

more laid-back attitude in California where he would stroll the beach everyday without a care in

the world. There wasnt a high demand for all of the boys to join a sports team in California like

there was in Indiana, yet little munchkin Chester still landed himself on his schools football

team at the age of twelve.

Football worked for a time. Chester made some new friends at his school in Indiana,

established some connections, and never got bullied. His path to becoming Indianas next best
 Lin 32

quarterback was halted, however, when he turned his attention on the world of science and math.

Suddenly, Chester began to ask questions-- many, many questions-- and his bookshelf was lined

with medical records and anthologies focused on the theories of the galaxy. Incorporating

science into every aspect of his life, Chester eventually took to writing fantasy stories and poetry.

I wanted to explore this sort of realm of creation, of um Developing the world, in a

way? Writing was this chance to include all of these things, Chester exclaimed, gesturing his

arms wildly, Weather, space, all of these things that I really enjoyed. They could all go into this

space--this sort of story, I guess.

I first met Chester during a summer orientation event for our freshmen year of high

school. He was a blurb of giggles and smiles, and I almost thought that I was going crazy trying

to imagine what was so funny at the time. He launched into a conversation about his favorite

fantasy novels easily, recommending me enough books to keep me occupied until I graduated

high school. Fantasy had never been my thing, but I assumed that if someone was so passionate

about exploring universes entirely different than ours that I would find it in me to like it, too.

Chester was fascinated with the concept of a new normal, and the more I thought about it, the

more I liked the idea that things didnt always have to be the way they were.
 Lin 33

Wishing To Fly, Daring To Fall (Final Draft)

| PLAY

Chester and I giggle in the middle of Rileys floor as we scroll through Tumblr leisurely,

making sure to repeat posts out loud every now and then to emphasize how much we relate to

them spiritually. We hear Riley and Molly fiddle around in the kitchen right across the hallway

as they make snacks for our little get-together, and it is then that I notice that Chesters eyes have

been flickering back and forth between my phone and Rileys cluttered room. I pause in scrolling

through Tumblr and follow Chesters gaze.

At some point in her life, Riley definitely had white-- or, as she would remind me, sugar

cookie--walls, but theyve been replaced with smudges of childhood finger-paintings, layered

maps of various angles of the world, and a collage of souvenirs she would always get from local

conventions. Her ceiling fan is adorned with a necklace of fairy lights and strings of ornaments,

rendering it useless in the summer. Open boxes are tucked under her unplugged electronic

keyboard, and Chesters eyes linger on them just a little bit more than anything else.

Its a wonder how she can navigate through her room with books threatening to spill over

her bookshelf and a desk that acts as a makeshift sewing station, but Chester calls the large mess

cozy, and I dont disagree.

---

| PAUSE

I always moved around, never stayed at a school for more than a year until sixth grade,

so I never established roots in a place. I still dont have any posters or anything in my room,

Chester admitted to me, I have boxes in my closet that I still havent opened yet because Im
 Lin 34

going to get the stuff out, and then Im going to have to put it back inside because were going to

move again.

---

| REWIND

Originally from Mississippi, Chester and his father moved across the U.S. constantly,

never settling in one spot long enough for him to grow attached to a place he could call home.

Before settling in Chicago for the second time, Chester used to live in places such as New Jersey,

California, and Indiana. Every time he moved, Chester left a group of friends behind just to make

new ones at a different school, making it difficult to keep a close circle of friends to confide in.

Everywhere he went, Chester was labeled as the new kid, and the status stuck with him for a

majority of his childhood.

Chesters experiences of switching school environments were multiple 180s, flipping

between the Catholic school lifestyle in Indiana of teachers stressing for him to bend his knees at

a perfect ninety degree angle and buying his uniforms from an approved brand of clothing, and

the laid-back California lifestyle where he would stroll the beach without a care in the world.

Unlike his life in Indiana, Chester wasnt pressed to join sports teams in California, yet little

munchkin Chester still landed himself on his schools football team at the age of twelve.

Football worked for a time. Chester wasnt bullied, and he even made connections and a

couple of friends while he struggled to become Indianas next best quarterback. He was small

and good at running, so it wasnt like he had much to complain about while he stayed in the

sports world. Sports, however, didnt fascinate Chester as much as the science world did, and he

said goodbye to football and said hello to cosmology and meteorology.

 Lin 35

Chester asked questions-- many, many questions--and his bookshelf was lined with

medical records and anthologies focused on the theories of the galaxy. He built his own realm of

creation, a world where he could incorporate all of the things he loved reading about into this

small space he could return to when he wasnt sure where to go.

---

| PLAY

Chester writes a lot of fantasy-based poetry and short stories in Creative Writing, and I

dont think he could write something without the word fly or fall in it. His poetic narrator

would typically talk about escaping some sort of confinement, and out of all of the three years

Ive known him, I always wondered if his voice echoed something from the depths of his heart.

His father grew up as a military kid, and his strict lifestyle carried into the present day,

influencing Chester to become the proper young man he was always told to be. Recently, Chester

has been able to hang out after-school with a couple of friends of ours, but even then, his father

tracks his phone to make sure his story checks out when we tell him were going to Wicker Park

or Humboldt Park.

I remember one time, Chester and I were strolling in a nearby park that was five minutes

away from school to relax after a week of stress, and his father called him to ask him where he

was. When Chester said he was near the school, his father reprimanded him for lying since he

had Chesters location open on his laptop and told him to come home immediately. The walk

back to the bus stop was tense, but to Chester, it was a normal thing to happen, and we didnt

talk about it.

---
 Lin 36

| PAUSE

Is independence a big factor for you in deciding on colleges in the future, especially

when it comes to your father controlling some of the bigger parts of your life? I asked Chester.

He furrowed his brows. You know Hes taking some of the things hes done back

now-- like, there isnt anything wrong with him, but I dont like the feeling of having to depend

on him if I ever come back from school. I think in general, I want to be as far as physically

possible from my dad just so I can feel like I have independence. Like right now? My

independence is not having to tell him if I brushed my teeth in the morning or at night everyday.

---

| PLAY

Chester doesnt wish for a lot of things in life, but on the rare occasion he does, its

usually for a new sense of normal. His favorite type of fantasy is urban fantasy, and he dreams

of the city life where magicians can make all of their problems go away with a snap of their

fingers or whisper under their breath. There are times when Chesters so immersed in his

fantastical thoughts that I think he prefers that world much more than ours.

---

| STOP

Whats your ideal normal?

Chester paused for a minute, collecting his thoughts. He said, My ideal normal is that

there is a completely okay society where being different isnt defined. There is no template for

how were supposed to be built. He sighs. There is no coming out. There is no fear to be us.
 Lin 37

Like, there is no agenda for being gay-- theres no need to fight for getting married, no need to

think having coffee with my husband is weird, no hate.

If you could go back in time to talk to little Chester, what would you say or teach him?

I would teach him that one day, youre not going to be like anyone else, and theres no

need for you to be anyone else. He closed his eyes, rubbing his temples out of exhaustion.

Society doesnt require you to be anything other than you, and yes, you can paint your nails

pink if youd like because you dont have to give a crap about what society wants of you. No

more clear coats, just pink.

I pried, What would you tell your father if you were to go back in time?

I would tell him to calm down, that I turned out just fine. Look, hes gay. He has no

prejudice against the other gays or minorities, but hes stuck in the template of how people are

supposed to be. Chester rolled his eyes. Back then, I wouldve just thought he was trying to

protect me, but nowadays, it doesnt seem like it. He just tries too hard to prove me wrong. I get

so sick of it.

---

| FAST FORWARD

Chester and I are sitting at a small table for two in Caf Marie-Janne, our usual hang out

spot, when our waitress comes to take our orders. We just finished a volunteer shift at school for

one of the Winter Dance Showcases, and we were waiting for my sister to come pick us up to go

home. The waitress flashes a smile at us as we ask for a plate of dessert, and Chester and I

already know where this is going.

 Lin 38

Oh, what a cute little dinner date! Its so nice to have that kind of date once in a while,

dont you think? She asks innocently, chuckling as she goes to add our order ticket to the

line-up. Ill be right back with your dessert.

Chester and I lock eyes, and we cant help but start laughing. My leg nudges my Totes

Gay tote bag a little closer to our table, and Chester rolls his eyes.

Oh yes, I love taking my totally cis girlfriend out to dessert dates with my totally not gay

self. Such a lovely night, right dear? He teases.

I sigh dramatically. Quite, oh dear not-gay boyfriend. I love being cis and in love and

totally 100% straight.

Silly heteros, Chester whispers under his breath, a smile plastered on his face. Why

dont they ever ask if Im on a date when Im with Jack or Henry? Shame on them.
 Lin 39

Defined: A Collection of the Most Used

eye emoji
/ mj/
noun

1. Ive grown tired of flinching at your name; your fingerprints linger on the seams you
shredded and tore all those years ago, and my gaze skims over the messages I didnt open
since our names were buried six feet under, leaving behind two stupid teenagers who
tried to stitch themselves up with only a needle and no thread. It was easy to blame you
for the way my scars slithered around me like the crumpled ribbons you used to tie your
gifts for me, but then I remembered that those were always easy to pull and undo, and
youre not any stronger than a dollar-store piece of plastic.

2. Youve only known what you believed, and I dont believe what you know. You try to
spin a safety net beneath our conversation just in case I scrutinize the way you remember
the past, but its flimsy like your line of reasoning, and I pity you. I dont say anything as
you begin to craft your net for yourself rather than for us, and I watch as your hands clasp
together, your lips curling as you draw blood with teeth. I wonder when youll realize Im
not listening.

3. There is tension brewing between us, and I note your straightened posture before you
cough and turn away; dont worry, Im not going to press the elephant in the room, but it
seems that youve locked eyes with it, and I cant change the fact that its mouthing the
words, Thats a bad idea, dont do it. Youre at a loss for how to proceed as you come
across the fork in the road, sticking yourself between a rock and a hard place for how you
want to approach unlocking my secrets. All things come with a price, and you swallow
down the thought as you switch topics.

4. Im uncomfortable; the back-handed compliments you offer me tumble down my spine,

and its chilling how numb I feel when you remind me of my past-self. I brush it off, but
even now when I look in the mirror, I see the person I wish to bury the most, their cheeks
stained and throat hoarse from screaming when their heart was torn yet another time. I
wonder if they would be happier if they just removed it, but theyre too soft, and theyd
rather keep a heart to give to others than take parts of others.
 Lin 40

OK hand emoji

/k hand mj /
informal; noun
1. Youre whispering in a gentle stream of reassurance when I call you late at night; you
wont let me go to bed until you know Im safe, and Im equal parts grateful and
insecure. I softly chuckle as you tell me about your girlfriends antics again, your own
words being cut off by each other as you usher in more memories of her into my mind
with every passing second. I fall asleep to the lull of your voice draping over me like a
blanket fresh out of the dryer.

2. In the mornings, as we drive to the train station, you ask me if Im okay; there is an
unsaid correlation with your daily question and my ever-present scars drifting along the
dashboard, a feeling colder than the air conditioning. Were both liars, but you accept my
answer anyway, and Im off to school with a quick, I love you, baba, and I promise Im
not lying when I say that. Your eyes linger on me like its the last time youre ever going
to see me, and I cant always guarantee Ill be in my room laughing about a video Im
watching on my phone when you get home from work, but I can try.

3. Once, you kept me company through my insomnia with a glimpse of your past; weve
only known each other for a couple of weeks at this point, and yet you trusted me with a
secret you havent even shared with your twin. Ive never been confided in like that
before, and I could only offer my two cents whenever you took a pause in your flashback
to ground yourself in the present. Its a shame it had to take a weakness of yours to make
me fall for you.
 Lin 41

scissor emoji
/ sizr mj/
noun
1. Ive recently concluded that youre a terribly entertaining storyteller; I like your portrayal
of the abusive dragon (me) and the young royal trapped inside the tower of oppression
(you). If theres one thing I could add, however, it would be the past relationship between
the dragon and the royal. You never did like to tell the truth, and I can see it in the way
you refuse to speak to the knights who ride up to the tower. They each beg for you to
order the death of the dragon, already weak from searching for you in the shroud of our
hidden kingdom, but you refuse to tell them of how the dragon is the reason the royal can
ascend the throne in the first place. I loom over the tower, hoping youll name me in
another story as a monster who does a little less work to be hated by a crying royal
because I feel the fatigue of breathing fire and terrifying townsfolk draining me.

2. Strangely, the coffee I drink in the morning isnt as bitter as me; I spill sugar and creamer
until my coffee becomes a distant relative, and I know you hate it, but that just fuels my
urge to pour in more. You once told me that coffee is no longer coffee when I dilute it the
way I do, and I laughed because if I can drink in the distortion of truth you delicately
warp for me every day, I can drink my cup of creamer.

3. My eyes flicker between you and you-know-who, and I have half a mind to tell you what
I think of your arrangement; you see the way my lips thin in disappointment, and you nod
in agreement, even if you didnt want to. I trust you, and you reciprocate my feelings of
confidence in you, but there are some tragedies that can never be avoided. I cant avoid
the way I feel like were in a train aimed to crash into the side of the mountain, but I
know that youre better than someone who pays without expecting compensation. I ask
that you consider the end game a little more strongly, but youve already replaced me
with you-know-who on the pedestal of your affections, and I dont reign as your
confidante anymore.
 Lin 42

Hydrangea (First Draft)

Growing in large clusters of flowerheads, hydrangea shrubs produce bursts of clear blues,

frosted whites, and whispers of pink, extending in rings that flaunt their vibrancy loudly. The

colors that appear on hydrangea shrubs are easily affected by the pH levels in the soil, with blue

flowers growing in soil thats more acidic while pink flowers grow in soil on the opposite side of

the pH scale. White flowers grow regardless of the soils pH levels, sprinkling about on their

own whim among the soft bed of hydrangeas.

The light smell of hydrangea shrubs in the air is prominent from early spring to late fall,

though it isnt as overpowering as the splash of color the shrubs bring to their surroundings.

Some enthusiasts describe the scent of hydrangea shrubs as uncommon and rare; a smell akin to

a tantalizing caress of sweet syrup and lingering praise. The brush of hydrangea petals are faintly

reminiscent of a steady pulse, soft and nervous, almost afraid of whats to come.

Hydrangea shrubs are persistent flowers, and no matter how many times you snip them,

leaving nothing more than a few petals shielding the fragile bud of inner rings inside, they

always seem to slither their way back into your life.

PLANTING

It is ideal to begin a hydrangea bush in spring or fall. They will grow and bloom with

partial shade.

We met in the early workings of fall, the leaves on the trees a searing red, yet the summer

dew from the rain earlier that morning kept the leaves from crunching underneath our feet as we

took our first steps to becoming high school freshmen. I had no intention to jump into new
 Lin 43

friendships when the scars of losing the ones I kept for so many years were still too fresh, still

too raw and exposed.

Then, we met, and I mistook the word confidante to mean the same thing as personal

possession, causing a rift between us that never expected to grow into years of bitterness and

self-loathing, though the game of whos to blame was always unclear.

A hydrangea shrub should begin in a hole that is dug to be as deep as the root, maybe

two, three times as wide.

Allow at least three to ten feet in between each planted hydrangea shrub. Overcrowding

will cause the flowers to be vulnerable to weakness at the core of their roots, attacking

the plant from within.

We were attached at the hip, and within a few weeks, we rushed into a label; we wrapped

ourselves in the title of a relationship we both knew we werent ready for, but I couldnt say no,

especially not when your fingertips couldnt stop shaking as you messaged me your feelings, and

your fear blinded me from the twisting coil of reluctance gathering in my stomach.

We were best friends for a month, lovers for another, and strangers for the rest of the

year. Admittedly, I realized just recently that reciprocated feelings just wasnt in my

vocabulary.

Settle the hydrangea shrub in the freshly-dug hole, filling it half full with soil, and then

fill the rest with water. Once the water is drained and is absorbed by the soil, fill the rest

of the hole with more soil. Make sure to water the hydrangea shrub regularly, lest the

flowers wilt earlier than expected.

 Lin 44

We never did last long. I drowned you in messages and apologies until everything

became too suffocating to you, and I never gave you time to soak in my intentions as I tried to

compensate for the trouble I caused you.

CARING

For the first few years, make sure the hydrangea shrubs get plenty of water. If the soil is

too dry, the leaves will start to wilt. If the soil is rich, there is no need for fertilizer. Too

much fertilizer will lead to extensive leaf growth and expansive blooms. If the soil is light

or somewhat sandy, its best to feed the plants once a year in late winter or spring.

In the fall, cover the hydrangea shrubs with bark mulch, pine needles, or straw. This will

keep the hydrangea shrub from the damage of winter weather and harsh winds. If

possible, secure the hydrangea shrub in a cage made of chicken wire and filled with

leaves, though not maple leaves.

Do you want to be friends again--I mean, I sputter, Only if you want to. Its okay if

you dont.

Your eyes widen, and you didnt seem to believe me at first. Your eyes scream why? You

fumble with your hoodie sleeves, refusing to look me in the eye, gulping down any words that

may have spilled out of your throat. I keep my gaze on you light and patient; I dont have to

energy to rush you anymore. You gather your thoughts and make eye contact.

Yeah, thatd be really cool, your voice cracks, and I hear a soft curse falling through

your lips, I was actually, uh, going to ask you that, but you know. We havent talked. Not since

we broke up, I finish for you, not since I became less-than-human to you.

I offer a smile. Yeah, we havent. I thought we could change that up a bit.

 Lin 45

Sounds good. I You drift off, not knowing how to answer. I sorta missed you, I

guess? I did. You run your hands through your hair, and I catch the smell of your mothers

hydrangea bushes, sickly sweet as always. Sorry. Im not good at this.

I nod, and I skim my eyes along your hoodie, noting the stray pieces of dog hair and

stains of maple syrup. I havent seen your dogs in months, and I wonder if they ever think about

the last time I visited them.

HOW TO PRUNE

For common types, cut one or two of the oldest stems down to the base to allow room for

fresh branching. Only cut away dead wood in fall or early spring for healthy growth. If a

plant is neglected or damaged, cut all of the stems to the base. There wont be any

flowers for upcoming seasons, but there may be a chance to grow within the next few

years.
 Lin 46

Hydrangea (Final Draft)

Growing in large clusters of flowerheads, hydrangea shrubs produce bursts of clear blues,

frosted whites, and whispers of pink, extending in rings that flaunt their vibrancy. The colors are

easily affected by the pH levels in the soil, with blue flowers growing in soil thats more acidic

while pink flowers grow in soil on the opposite side of the scale. White flowers grow regardless

of the soils pH levels, sprinkling about whimsically.

The light smell of hydrangea shrubs in the air is prominent from early spring to late fall,

though it isnt as overpowering as the splash of color. Some enthusiasts describe the scent of

hydrangea shrubs as uncommon and rare; a smell akin to a tantalizing caress of sweet syrup and

lingering praise. The brush of hydrangea petals are faintly reminiscent of a steady pulse on frail

wrists, soft and nervous, almost afraid of whats to come.

Hydrangea shrubs are persistent flowers, and no matter how many times you snip them,

leaving nothing more than a few petals shielding the fragile bud of inner rings inside, they

always seem to slither their way back into your life.

-PLANTING-

It is ideal to begin a hydrangea bush in spring or fall. They will grow and bloom with

partial shade.

Hi, you say, nervous, hands fidgeting in your lap as you struggle to keep your leg from

knocking against the wood floor. Im (dead name), like the capital of Wisconsin. Im pretty sure

they took my idea for themselves.

I chuckle, brushing my hair behind my ear. I think the same way about the fourth month,

to be completely honest. Think you can guess what my name is?

 Lin 47

(dead name)? Were you born in that month, too? You tease, and we make eye contact

for a brief moment before you cough into your hand and flicker your eyes around the classroom,

taking in the roughly scribbled draft of my advisorys new logo. Thats not very original, now is

it?

Like the capital of Wisconsin is? I nudge your arm with my shoulder, rolling my eyes.

My birthdays actually in May, nerd.

Ha! That makes me older than you. You better watch who youre calling a nerd, nerd, or

else youre grounded.

I scoff, but I dont protest. Youre smiling as you fidget with your rubber bracelet, the

deep purple Aquarius sign engraved on it sticking out to me as reference to my favorite

webcomic Homestuck, and for the first time that week, I feel words threatening to bubble out of

my mouth.

Youre into Homestuck?

A hydrangea shrub should begin in a hole that is dug to be as deep as the root, maybe

two, three times as wide. Allow at least three to ten feet in between each planted

hydrangea shrub. Overcrowding will cause the flowers to be vulnerable to weakness at

the core of their roots, attacking the plant from within.

Are you two dating? Sofia asks in shock, her mouth gaping and eyebrows pushing

beyond the boundaries of her face. She turns away, a smirk pulling at her lips. God, I knew it.

Catherine and I called it.

 Lin 48

I untangle our fingers, pulling away. Your eyebrows furrow in disappointment. You shift

closer, settling a hand on my waist instead, silently asking for me to stay close like I have been

for the past few months.

Were not dating, you huff, your hand tensing around me. So lay off, okay? Were just

really chill pals.

Sofia rolls her eyes. Uh huh. Is that why you always call (dead name) babe? Just a

chill pal nickname?

(dead name) calls everyone babe, I chime in. You, Mia, Catherine, Chester--

everyone. Seriously, were not even close to dating, okay? I pause, my eyes catching a glimpse

of the clock from inside the French room, and I sigh. I have to go grab something from my

locker, and Im already going to be late for Survey Lit if I stay.

See you later? You pull in closer, slipping my body into a loose one-armed hug. Ill

swing by your room as soon as I can.

I nod, smiling. Of course.

Settle the hydrangea shrub in the freshly-dug hole, filling it half full with soil, and then

fill the rest with water. Once the water is absorbed, fill in the rest of the hole with soil to

secure the plant in its place.

Are we really going to do this? My voice is barely above a whisper as we sway a bit,

my body still unfamiliar with standing since Ive been sitting while I wait for you. I mean, yeah,

it would be really nice, and I meant what I said, (dead name). I really did.

Your hair drapes over your face as you lower your head onto my shoulder, and my hand

instinctively combs through your hair to weed out your fears and worries so I can help you pick
 Lin 49

out the best option for yourself. Your breathing is heavy, and you seem tired. I wonder if youve

been keeping yourself up the entire weekend because of the idea of us becoming more than

friends.

I start slowly, We dont have to if youre scared. We can still be friends. Ill be sad for

maybe like an hour, but itll be okay. I dont want to rush an answer out of you.

Lets do it, you say, muffled into my shoulder, before lifting your head back up. I push

your hair behind your ear, taking in the scent of newly bloomed hydrangea shrubs clinging to

you. Im okay. I want to do this.

I tease, Your feeling-feelings for me are that strong? I laugh, letting the sound blend

into the excited morning chatter of the crowd of students near us. I appreciated the message you

sent me. So romantic.

Your blush creeps up your neck that mimicked the way you would wrap your arms

around me from behind when I waited for you in the hallways, and you laugh before pulling me

into a hug.

-CARING-

I watch the way you interact with Clara after she returns from being absent for a month,

and my throat tightens at the way you hook your arm around her small shoulders and pull her

head in to fit it snuggly in your collar bones. Shes giggling as you press a kiss to her forehead,

and I begin to wonder if you ever did that to me in all of the time Ive known you.

Would you ever date her? I ask you after seeing Clara run off to class. Im just

curious, I quickly add, Since you guys seem like such good friends, after all.
 Lin 50

You stare at me before bursting out into laughter. Clara? Shes straight. Theres no way

Id like her. Besides, You smile, wrapping me in your large arms. I like you a lot more.

I let your words sink in, and I smile, but I dont respond. Your eyes flicker back to where

Claras back is turned to us down the hallway, and my concerns ring at the back of my head as a

reminder to mull over when insomnia drops by for its nightly visits.

Be sure to water the hydrangea shrubs regularly, but do not use any sort of additional

fertilizer if the soil is already rich. Excessive feeding will lead to wilting.

Did I say something wrong? I ask, my voice vulnerable from the sobs that thrashed out

of my throat during advisory, and I wonder if its my anxiety or the rushing students in the

hallway thats making the floors shake underneath me. Did I upset you?"

You scratch the back of your head, not looking me in the eyes, just like you havent been

doing for the past week. Your nervous habits are emerging in waves; my eyes skim over the way

your nails are digging into your palms, the shifting of weight from your left leg to your right, and

the soft murmurs as you think of what to say. The thought of you flinching if I touch you--if I

enter the land youve bordered off from my world--keeps my hands where they are, brushing

over my arms to keep myself steady.

You shake your head, but then you stop. Not really, I guess. You shrug your shoulders,

your arms dangling in a mix of boredom and frustration. Its stupid.

If I hurt you in any way, then please--

You huff out in annoyance. Just drop it, okay? Its nothing. Im not a baby--God, I can

take care of myself for crying out loud. You dont have to mother me anymore. Why do you treat

me like Im a ticking time bomb?

 Lin 51

Im tired of arguing, so I turn away and dont offer an answer. Your hair's getting longer,

and I just want to brush it out of your face and tuck it behind your ear, but I resist. From where

Im standing--even from being so, so, far away from you--I can smell your mothers hydrangea

shrubs, and it hurts me that I havent been to your house in so long. I havent seen you be willing

to let me in your space in so long.

Im sorry, I whisper, and I already feel the fatigue of my sobs washing over me, telling

me that itll be okay to cry one more time. Im so sorry.

You storm off, and I continue to move towards my locker before Arts Break is over. I

already feel the scalding brand of not good enough on the back of my neck when I realize its

Mia, Indigo, and Chester staring at me from their places down the hall.

Our shared friend group is feeling a lot more like yours these days.

-HOW TO PRUNE-

Cut away dead wood for healthy growth. If a plant is neglected or damaged, cut all of the

stems to the base.

I dont mean to be rude or anything, Mia begins, but I can see the way shes

swallowing thickly to keep herself composed and calm, But Im so glad you two are talking

again. It was so awkward to have to choose between you guys.

I never asked you to choose, I almost say, and I nod, in a daze. Mia and I walk out of the

French room, and I watch as you two laugh and snort at all of the inside jokes you share, and I

become aware that I havent heard your laugh weave its way through the air in a while. You turn

around and sling an arm around my shoulder, and I have to pause to keep myself from pulling

away. Your hoodie smells like a mix of hydrangea shrubs and fresh rain, the scents probably
 Lin 52

seeping into your fabric when you took your dogs out that morning. My stomach churns and

suddenly, I dont want to go to lunch anymore.

Im gonna go swing by my locker real quick, I interrupt when I see you and Mia

wanting to pull me towards your Survey Lit room; Your arm is squeezing my shoulder the same

way you used to before when you said youd wait for me.

You raise an eyebrow. Do you want me to come with you?

No. I shake my head, gently pushing your arm off my shoulder. Its just a quick run. I

forgot my textbook in my locker. You guys go on ahead to Arbeiters.

See you later? You whisper, soft and nervous like before everything between us

happened, before those three months of silence.

It seemed too early to say yes when tension still had a vice grip on our relationship, too

hopeful to say no when we both agreed to try being friends again. Friends, lovers, exes,

strangers. I wonder if the cycle will repeat again, if this new friendship is just a way for exes to

argue under a different label.

I speed down the stairs towards my locker.

There wont be any flowers for upcoming seasons, but there may be a chance to grow

within the next few years.

 Lin 53

Lost and Found (Novel Revision)

Brooklyn Bridge, 1920s

Whatre ya doing all the way over there by yourself, darlin?

Nano leaned against the railing of the Brooklyn Bridge, his signature smirk plastered on

his face as he locked eyes with Elektra. He felt the chill of the fall air slithering around his bare

neck, his scarf not doing much a good job at keeping him warm, but he focused all of his

attention on the girl in front of him. His eyes followed the gentle jolt in her shoulders as he

suddenly appeared, noting how quickly her tension slipped away.

Trying again, Nano joked, Not a big fan of having solid ground under ya feet, huh? I can

respect that. S not my place to judge.

Elektra remained silent, her eyes refusing to back down from Nanos gaze. The more he

looked into them, the more he imagined himself in a diner at 3am, spilling coffee into his mug as

easily as he spilled secrets. Her eyes, a deep cobalt, reminded him of the summers he spent

skipping stones over the East River. He could never keep track of all of the stones he tossed into

the river.

Nano faintly wondered what else got lost in the river before he flickered his attention

back to Elektras eyes.

Getting tired of my big yap yet?

Elektra sighed, amused. Just about.

Good. Heres another thing to get tired of.

 Lin 54

Cautiously, Nano climbed over the railing and planted himself next to Elektra. Elektra

rolled her eyes briefly, but she didnt stop him from scooting closer to her, not noticing how

close he was pushing her back towards the safety of the railing.

Whyd you climb over? Elektra fidgeted, tucking loose strands of her white hair back

into the low bun she was sporting. Its not safe here.

Nano chuffed. Yeah, not safe. Ya know, I was thinking the same thing. They teach you

bridge safety at school or what? He chuckled as Elektra lightly smacked his arm. Kidding.

Never been taught something useful there before in my life. The city aint nothing but high hats

and killjoys, na mean?

Elektra glanced back to the sky, humming an affirmative tone. Citys not so bad. It may

be all swank and glam, but its home.

Sure is. It gets cold here in these parts, but thats nothing a good pie cant fix. You

wanna grab a bite with me right now? Shops still open til--

Stop it. Dont take it there. Elektra frowned at Nano. I dont want to do this.

Nano raised an eyebrow. Do what?

Living. You thought you were being slick with that sweet talk of yours--being nice to

me or whatever--but I dont want that right now. She huffed, her hands clenching her coat. I

didnt want company tonight.

At her harsh tone, Nano raised his hands up in defense. Woah there, I didnt mean to

offend ya, doll. I was just looking to make some chit chat, thats all. No need to be--

Angry? Upset? Elektra paused, turning away, whispering, A disappointment? A

good-for-nothing?...
 Lin 55

Hey, ya good? Nanos gaze softened, and he placed his hand on Elektras arm, careful

not to startle her. M not here to make you guilty or anything. I just wanted to down some pie, I

swear.

Elektra shrugged off Nanos hand. I didnt ask for you to come here and comfort me.

Wasnt my intention. To do anything but get some sod to come with me to get the

Couples Discount. Nano rummaged through his pockets, shuffling through old sticky notes

filled with numbers and test papers. He pulled out a coupon with a bright Large Pizza at the

price of a Small for Sweethearts in Love!!! and fine print.

Elektra stared at the coupon, a puzzling look in her eyes. Slowly, she let out gentle

chuckling that lodged Nanos heart in his throat. Somehow, he found the way Elektras chuckles

progressed into full on laughs familiar, and he couldnt help but think that he knew her before,

and imagining her eyes crinkling as she laughed was a favorite pastime of his. Elektra wiped the

tears that formed as she laughed and gently grasped Nanos hands.

Lets go get some steaming hot pie then. My treat. Elektra sighed softly.

Nano laughed. Ya treating me on a pity date? I dont even know ya name. M Nano,

your neighborhood hotshot. He stepped over the railing, holding out his hand to Elektra.

Coming...?

Elektra. Elektra smiled, a fondness in her eyes. She grasped Nanos hand and stepped

over the bridge, eyes away from the sky and now focused on the solid ground. My name is

Elektra.

Nano beamed at Elektra. I knew ya had a name just as sweet as ya. Ready for some pie,

Elly?
 Lin 56

Of course.

---

In the morning, Nano strolled around his neighborhood, a slight bounce in his legs as he

remembered the night before. Smiling, Nano reminisced about the date he had with Elektra; a

night filled with small chatter over a large pizza, a few heart felt conversations, and an exchange

of plans for when they wanted to meet each other again. He hoped that he would see Elektra

again today after class, but now that he thought about it, class didnt sound at all fun right now.

Nanos feet strolled him straight into Of Bows and Bouquets, a local flower shop that was

managed by an old family friend. He scanned the room, hoping to bump into one person in

particular. Once spotted, he made his way over and made sure to wear his signature smirk before

tapping on the shoulder of the person of his interest.

Rose, my darling favorite broad on the street, Nano started, laughing as he said, I have

a favor to ask of ya.

Rose turned around, her hair cascading down her back as she smiled sweetly at Nano.

She placed her hand on his cheek, patting him gently before playfully pushing him away.

Banks been closed since you broke up with me, and Im not interested in helping you

get into someone elses pants, Nan. Find something else to use to help woo your dame.
 Lin 57

Love Medicine Reflection #1

Prompt #4: Change in Main Character

If Love Medicine were to be relieved of its status of being a compilation of stories told

through multiple points of view, I believe itd be changed drastically. The charm of Love

Medicine comes from the vast knowledge the reader gains as they peer through the eyes of

various characters. If the stories were to be told through the eyes of one single character, the

amount of context behind the relationships and legacy of all of the characters would be blurred.

However, if the story were to be told through the eyes of a single character, Id nominate Lulu

(nee Nanapush) Lamartine as the main point of view.

So far in the book-- Ive just finished reading Lulus Boys-- Ive come across a variety of

characters, but none of them capture my attention quite like Lulu. Lulu is not only at the middle

of the large family tree presented in the beginning of Love Medicine, but she also happens to be

at the middle of the bridge that connects all of the characters to each other. Every character in

Love Medicine has either encountered her at some point or have heard of her through association

with some of the characters who have met her. In her romantic life alone, Lulu experienced a

majority of the characters and developed deep connections with them (Beverly, Henry, Moses,

Nector, etc).

If Lulu were to be the lone narrator of the novel, I believe that the novel would be more

emphasized on her talent side rather than her romantic side. It has been hinted multiple times

throughout Love Medicine that Lulus endearing traits are not the only things pulling people to

her. Instead, she has this aura about her, something that resonates with me of being some kind of

healer vibe. In the title alone, Love Medicine implies that through her loving and caring ways,
 Lin 58

Lulu is the medicine to the people she meets, ultimately attempting to fix them in her own

ways. By focusing on this rather than focusing on the inner thoughts of desire aimed towards

Lulu that some of the other characters express, Lulu would shift from less of a sexual object and

more of a mother-to-all character type; the healer of Love Medicines casts broken hearts.

Lulus voice is one of my favorites as well, seeing as how confident in herself she is.

She knows how high her self-worth is, and she is very aware of everyones opinions of her.

Lulus voice, although noting her self-worth, doesnt brag about who she is, she merely accepts

it. She normalizes her lifestyle in her story sections, and that would be fascinating to see carry

over throughout the entire book. We, as readers, may lose some of the other characters

backgrounds (Maries, Junes, etc), but I think that through their association with her, that, too,

would be implied and open to interpretation by the readers.

 Lin 59

Love Medicine Reflection #2

Prompt #7: Aspects of Craft Within Voice

One thing I really like about Louise Erdrichs style of writing in Love Medicine is her

ability to suddenly transition from voice to voice within third-person omniscient sections and

having it make sense in the end (most of the time). Its a skill that I rarely see within the writing

world, especially in fiction. Most of the time, if there was a point-of-view switch, it would be

during individual first-person chapters, which Erdrich essentially does in a different manner

when creating the sections based on each character rather than in the general third-person

sections. However, Erdrich does this fascinating thing of switching narrators subtly just by

focusing on ones thoughts over the other.

As of reading A Bridge (1973), I noticed Erdrichs technique with a bit of surprise. When

beginning the chapter, the reader is following Albertines journey as she runs away from home at

the age of fifteen, speaking about her progress and current thoughts. Once Albertine locks her

focus on the passing Henry Lamartine Jr. at the bus station, though, the view jumps from

Albertines view of the world to Henry Jr.s, not changing tense in point-of-view at all. I was

only able to notice this switch after I felt like the narrators thoughts became dissociative with

the world; the following observations about the setting were too distant and disconnected. When

the reader later learns about Henry Jr.s military background and implied case of PTSD,

everything begins to click.

Erdrich does a really great job at building Henry Jr.s voice for the remainder of the

section, actually. His thoughts are sort of not-of-this-world-esque, further developing the fact

that he has been through some sort of trauma at this point in both Albertine and Henry Jr.s life.
 Lin 60

Considering that I havent thought of Henry Jr. since the chapter, Lulus Boys, I think the amount

of individual backstory created for him within a chapter was admirable. The overall grammar of

the chapter didnt change much at all either, so the content was shuffled as opposed to the

syntax.

The juxtaposition of Albertines actions and Henry Jr.s thoughts was also an interesting

technique used in this particular chapter. I interpreted it as Henry Jr.s military-based thoughts

taking hold of him; the role of being a soldier against an enemy flooding back to him.

Whether or not Erdrich intended that here, Im not sure, but I still thought it was good to note.
 Lin 61

Love Medicine Reflection #3

Free-Prompt: Analysis of Lipshas Healing Touch

In context of the chapter Love Medicine (1982): Lipsha Morrissey on pages 226-253, Id

like to highlight Lipsha Morrisseys intentions versus execution in light of Nectors (I think?)

accidental death. Although Lipsha is Gerry and Junes son, I find Lipsha to be more close in

character to Lulu than a large majority of her children. Throughout the book, it is implied that

Lipsha also has what Lulu refers to as the touch, or rather, the ability to heal someones

heart with their hands. Like Lulu, Lipsha intends to do good by using his healing ability on

others broken hearts, yet his indirect role in Nectors death might have been a result of his

healing ability being a tad bit different than his grandmothers.

Next to Lulu and Marie, Lipsha is actually one of my favorite characters due to his

fascinating opinions on the concept of loving and being loved. Theres just something that piques

my curiosity whenever a character experiences the idea of love differently than another character

in a similar universe. When Lipsha first reflects on the relationship between his grandmother

(Lulu) and grandfather (Nector), he describes their relationship as a miracle based on magic

purely because no matter what distances the two of them (Nectors developing dementia, Lulus

history of past lovers, grudges, arguments, etc), he saw how much Lulu cherished Nector in her

way and vice versa with Nector loving Lulu. Its natural then that Lipsha would want to do

everything in his power to ensure his grandmother gets the happy ending he always believed she

should have.

However, Lipshas healing touch lacks one key concept that Lulus has: the

understanding of how love works. Lulus ways of romancing people who intrigue her has
 Lin 62

allowed her to know the depths of peoples hearts, but its the opposite for Lipsha. From a young

age, he has never really known what it is like to be loved by someone since his mother and father

abandoned him, and the only person who he really cherished was Lulu (if we exclude him

cherishing the idea of June). As a result of having a misunderstanding of love, Lipshas

execution of his idea to get Lulu together with Nector once and for all flubbed up. His healing

touch ended up doing everything but that, and his grandfather ended up passing away.

No matter how many parallels we see between Lipsha and Lulu, their healing touches are

not the same, but rather the opposite. Lulus healing touch heals the hearts of those without love,

and Lipshas healing touch can only provide miracles for hearts like his; hearts that have never

experienced love. Nector and Lulu had love once, and Lipsha couldnt fix that, so his healing

touch failed.
 Lin 63

Love Medicine Reflection #4

Free-Prompt: Relationship Analysis

In context of the chapter The Good Tears (1983): Lulu Lamartine-- though, Ive finished

the book at this point-- Id like to analyze the relationship dynamic between my two favorite

characters in Love Medicine: Lulu Lamartine and Marie Kashpaw. As Lulu mentions in the

chapter, its pretty wild that she and Marie had never once met considering that they were

connected by their relationships with Nector for so long. I think that their indirect dynamic is

pretty interesting, and Id like to expand on the thoughts I have surrounding them,

For starters, Marie is one of those characters that mystifies me. She doesnt wish eternal

damnation on Nector nor does she seek out revenge for Nectors affair with Lulu. In my reading

of the book, I found that Marie didnt really seem as angry at Lulu or Nector as a typical reader

would have guessed. Instead, she almost seemed a bit relieved to have Nector and Lulu out of

her life for a good chunk of her life. It makes me wonder if all of the wives of Lulus past lovers

once felt that calm, serene feeling of knowing and not wanting to know at the same time.

Lulu and Marie, although brought up different in their childhood, might have some

similarities that account for why theyre so accepting of each other. Both Lulu and Marie have

had to fight for what they wanted in life; for Marie, respect from not only Rushes Bear, but also

the sisters on the top of the hill, and for Lulu, love from someone who would cherish both her

placated and wild sides. I think no matter the circumstances, Marie mustve known a bit about

Lulus childhood and saw that they were somewhat similar. Otherwise, I think Marie wouldve

brushed her off as the town harlot, or whatever the popular term for slut-shaming was back in

that era.
 Lin 64

Connected by one man, Lulu and Marie have both been leading their lives on similar

tracks, just in different directions. I wish that they wouldve gotten to know each other much

more than they did in this chapter, as I believe that if they teamed up and became powerful

friends/allies, they wouldve took the whole town by storm and destroyed the gender norms

surrounding women (as they both seem to break them). Thats an idea for another story, though.
 Lin 65

One Day Silent, Years Left Unsaid/Quiet (Rough Draft)

Zane,

I thought I had gotten used to the silence that I received from you with each text

following the itinerary of see-sawing back and forth between the you good?, im good. you?,

cowboy centrals whiter than drapalas bald af head but its not bad, haha sorry to hear that. I

thought about how we had played Cat and Mouse on Skype over the last few years, constantly

flickering between online and do-not-disturb as though we were back to messing with

everyone during Heads Up, Seven Up by turning on the lights too soon. I thought about you, how

you had adjusted to living so far away from me, how we we hadnt heard each other laugh in so

long, how you had missed it when Juniper promposed to me with a smile too similar to yours.

Its unfair how much she looks like you.

I didnt think of the silence until you left me a voicemail, your voice faltering as you tried

to sound like the tough guy I knew you as. I heard you say sorry, but I couldnt forgive you nor

could I try to.

---

I met Zane on the playground when he sauntered over to me on our first day of

pre-school, a slight bounce in his legs. I glanced up from my spot on the warm plastic slide and

thought I was being blinded by the sun. His dress, a brilliance of yellow with smudges of lime

green from scuttling around in the freshly cut grass, fluttered behind him as he skid to a stop. He

stuck his hand out and beamed at me with a toothy grin.

Hi! Zane exclaimed, My name is (dead name). Whats yours?

I mumbled, (dead name). I reluctantly took his hand into mine.

 Lin 66

---

Zane,

We made a deal that day on the playground; a contract that bound us for the next ten

years of our lives together. I remember the years we spent whispering back and forth during

homeroom, and how terribly savage you were whenever it came to criticizing the homophobes in

our school. I would snort here and there, unable to contain my muffled laughter as you went on

tangents about revising the way people viewed the LGBTQIA+ community in our neighborhood.

We supported each other. I loved you when you came out to me, and Im sure you

wouldve done the same if you were still here. I wish you were still here, walking me through

how to survive dysphoria; how to survive the misgendering everyday with a bright smile on my

face and brushed-off remarks.

I wish you were still here, reminding me that some things are worth living for, but I guess

there are some things Ive seen in the world that you never will.

---

The Day of Silence is a nationwide event that honors the lost voices of those in the

LGBTQIA+ community who either felt too suffocated by being in the closet or ended their lives

too early. It is also a silent protest against the heavily enforced cisnormativity and

heteronormativity in society, which is mostly due to the fact that 90% of LGBTQIA+ kids in

every public school is harassed to the point of risking their mental health. GLSEN (Gay, Lesbian,

and Straight Education Network), dedicated the event for speaking out against harassment and

the bullying of all LGBTQIA+ individuals, especially the younger ones.

 Lin 67

I first began participating in the Day of Silence in my freshmen year of high school,

though I didnt take my vow of silence on the actual Day of Silence.

The first time I went 24 hours without speaking a word, it was on the small

independently-planned Day of Silence in response to the suicide of Leelah Alcorn, a 17 year-old

transgender woman who stepped into the middle of heavy traffic. She posted her suicide note on

Tumblr, causing an uproar among the LGBTQIA+ community. As a result, a post floated around,

organizing a Day of Silence for the death of Leelah Alcorn.

No one questioned my lack of speaking since I already made it quite clear to everyone

around me that speaking was not my top priority. Typically, I only spoke when a teacher called

on me to answer a question, and that was the system I followed for a majority of my days in high

school. No one thought about how quiet I was. No one thought about even the slightest of

reasons for why I wasnt speaking. No one thought about how Leelah Alcorn passed away due to

the stress of her community pushing her to express the cisnormativity ingrained in her life.

She slipped away, quietly.

Silently.

I listened to the buzz of the hallways; the muffled giggling and excited chatter whirring

past me like a dart aimed at its target on a dartboard. I remained silent, even if I was itching to

scream at the people who acted like nothing was wrong in society, that nothing was wrong with

saying being transgender is wrong or that calling someone a fag or a dyke. My thoughts drifted

to the future. I wondered if being openly transgender would be a smart choice for my well-being

and whether or not I would be openly-accepted as who I was in terms of my sexual/romantic

orientation. I considered slinking back into the closet; safe under the suffocating mass of being
 Lin 68

cisgender and attracted to the man who would soon become the father of my 2.2 children. I

reconsidered myself and the pronouns that I understood better than everyone else around me.

On occasion, I thought of Zane.

I thought about if things were different; Zanes boisterous laughter as he recalls a joke

earlier that morning that his friends have long-forgotten, an angry huff escaping Zanes lips as

someone misgenders him, the years Zane would have spent attending Pride Fest-- everything. I

thought that if Zane was alive, being the man he always wanted to be, would I be exchanged in

his place? Would I be the transgender friend that passes at the beginning of their freshmen year,

too sick and tired to live anymore, too?

Would anyone mourn me for a single day a year, exchanging their voice for mine?
 Lin 69

Quiet: A Deafening Aftermath (Final Draft)

Zane,

I thought I had gotten used to the silence. After you moved to Texas in sixth grade, you

tried to keep in touch, but I could never feel it. On the rare occasion I got your texts, our

conversations would end up just like the rest of our archived exchanges:

you good?

im good. you?

cowboy central is whiter than drapalas bald af head but its not bad.

haha sorry to hear that!

I thought about how we played Cat and Mouse on Skype over the last few years,

constantly flickering back and forth between online and do-not-disturb as though we were

back to turning on the lights too early during Heads Up, Seven Up to mess with everyone. I

thought about you, how you had adjusted to living your life far away from me, how we hadnt

heard each other laugh in so long, how the only thing I could think about as Juniper promposed

to me was how much her smile looked like yours.

I didnt think of the silence until you left me a voicemail, your voice faltering as you tried

to sound like the tough guy I knew you as. I heard you say sorry, but I couldnt forgive you nor

could I try to.

Its unfair how you thought that I would just accept the fact that you left me to face the

challenges of society by myself with a whimpering apology. You might have been my best

friend, but you also left me alone without one, and I cant forgive you for tearing away ten years

of my life like it was nothing.

 Lin 70

Did you think of me once before you made your decision to end your life?

I will never forgive you as I spend the rest of my life crying on your death anniversary or

dedicating my annual Day of Silence to mourn over you. For the last three years-- the last three

Days of Silences-- I have been mourning the loss of a voice I hadnt heard in years, and Im

afraid Ill eventually forget what it ever sounded like. I thought that maybe, I could try to

remember what your voice sounded like if I refused to use mine for twenty-four hours, but I

dont hear you, and Im beginning to wonder if Ill ever hear you again.

---

I met Zane on the playground when he sauntered over on our first day of pre-school, a

slight bounce in his legs. I glanced up from my claimed corner on the warm plastic slide and

thought I was being blinded by the sun. His dress, a brilliance of yellow with smudges of lime

green from scuttling around in the freshly cut grass, fluttered behind him as he skid to a stop. He

stuck his hand out and beamed at me with a toothy grin.

Hi! Zane exclaimed, My name is (dead name). Whats yours?

I mumbled, (dead name). I reluctantly took his hand into mine, unsure of what to do

after that.

Zane took the initiative, giggling as he said, Youre cute! Do you wanna play lava with

me?

Whats lava?

He gasped, absolutely shocked. You dont know how to play lava? He gathered my

hands with his and tugged on me lightly, pulling me up from my seat on the slide. Cmon, Ill

show you! We have to win, okay?

 Lin 71

Okay.

I knew from the minute he beamed at me that I couldnt say no.

---

Zane,

Do you remember the deal we made on the playground that day? It was a contract that

bound us for the next ten years of our lives together. We used to whisper back and forth during

homeroom, and I remember the first time you went off on a tangent about the homophobes in our

class:

I swear to God-- the next person I hear say, Its Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve,

Im going to sock them in the face and say, Then explain why its homosapien and not

heterosapien, you uncultured packet of Kraft mayonnaise. Trust me, it was hard to contain my

muffled laughter and unexpected snorts after that.

I wish you were still here, reminding me that some things are worth living for, but I guess

there are some things Ive seen in the world that you never will.

---

The Day of Silence is a nationwide event that honors the lost voices of those in the

LGBTQIA+ community who either stayed in the suffocating closet of heterosexuality and

cisgender identities, or ended their lives too early. It is a silent protest, fighting against the

assumption that everyone identifies as the sex they were born as and that theyre all heterosexual.

The GLSEN (Gay, Lesbian, and Straight Education Network) estimates that roughly 90% of

LGBTQIA+ kids in every public school is harassed to the point of damaging their mental health,
 Lin 72

so they launch the event every year to speak out against how the LGBTQIA+ community is

treated.

I first began participating in the Day of Silence in my freshmen year of high school.

However, the first time I went twenty-four hours without speaking, it was in response to the

suicide of Leelah Alcorn, a seventeen year-old transgender woman who stepped into the middle

of heavy traffic. Leelah posted her suicide note on Tumblr, which led the LGBTQIA+

community to post about doing their own version of the Day of Silence for Leelah.

In her suicide note, Leelah asked for society to fix itself, and her friends tried to honor

her last wishes to the best of their abilities. Leelahs friends posted a petition online called

Leelahs Law, pushing for the practice of conversion therapy to be banned in the United States.

Conversion therapy is a form of electroshock therapy where patients admitted there are forced to

abandon their homosexuality, and Leelah was one of the victims sent there by her parents against

her will. Even after her death, Leelahs parents dont believe in her transgender identity. They

called her suicide an accident, requested Tumblr to remove all traces of her suicide note, and

buried her under a gravestone that said her dead name, burying Leelah under the identity of their

son, not their daughter.

---

Zane,

I thought of you once today. I thought about what would happen if things were different.

I thought about you being alive, your boisterous laughter echoing down the hallway as you

remember a joke that everyone had already stopped laughing at. I thought about the years you

could have spent attending Pride Fest with my friends-- our friends-- with me. I thought about
 Lin 73

the excitement you would have felt after I told you about what happened after I told my crush I

liked them.

I couldnt handle the fact that the world kept moving without you, so I stopped thinking

of you before I imagined living with you by my side again.

---

Zane came out to me in 5th grade during recess one day, his legs shaking anxiously as he

tried to compose himself. I glanced up at him after I finished washing the paint trays for our art

teacher, observing his nervous habits closely. He fumbled with his hair, tucking puffs of his

brown curls into his black beanie over and over again as if he couldnt stand the thought of any

hair draping down his neck. His eyes flickered from the floor to me with every tick of the clock

on the wall.

Please say that no matter what happens, you wont be like everyone else, He

whispered, I dont want you to hate me like they do.

I shook my head in disbelief. Why would I-

Im a boy, He blurted out. He paused for a minute, collecting his thoughts. I mean-

Crap, okay, yeah, Im a boy. Im not (dead name) anymore. Im Zane, and Im a boy, and Im

pretty gay, and-- oh god, please tell me you dont think Im weird, or that Im just a super dyke,

or-

Zane, I repeated. A bit louder, I confidently said, Zane is my best friend, and hes the

cutest boy I know. Nothing in the entire universe would ever change that I love him, and I

always will.
 Lin 74

I pulled Zane into a hug, letting him sob into my shoulder as his anxiety wrung him dry

of all the tears he held back while he sputtered out his feelings to me. We stood there together in

the empty art room for the rest of recess, drowning out the sounds of the excitement from the

exhilarating soccer games thrumming outside the windows with my hushed reassurances and

Zanes relieved sobs.

---

Zane,

When I spent my first Day of Silence mourning for you, I was upset. The hallways were

buzzing as usual, muffled giggling and excited chatter whirring past me like darts aimed at a

dartboard. My heart stung, you know. I wanted to break my silence and scream at the people who

acted like nothing was wrong in society, that nothing was wrong with saying slurs or being

transphobic.

Sometimes, I think of the future. I wonder if being transgender is a smart choice for my

well-being or if people would have different impressions of me because of my sexual/romantic

orientation. Would you be mad at me for wanting to slink back into the closet, safe under the

suffocating mass of being cisgender and attracted to the man who would become the father of my

2.2 children?

What if we switched places? Would you have seethed internally, forcing yourself to

remain silent as everyone who never knew me continue to move forward in life? Would you

have tried hard not to cry every year on my death anniversary? Would you write to me from time

to time, telling me you cant forgive me for leaving you behind?

 Lin 75

I hope that one day, I can hear you again, and I hope that maybe, we can meet each other

in another life. I just hope that next time, we wont leave each other too soon, and neither of us

will have to fear forgetting the others voice.

 Lin 76

RE: Your Voicemail/You Touched the Lava (First Draft)

Zane,

I thought I had gotten used to the silence. After you moved to Texas in sixth grade, you

tried to keep in touch, but I could never feel it. On the rare occasion I got your texts, our

conversations would end up just like the rest of our archived exchanges:

you good?

im good. you?

cowboy central is whiter than drapalas bald af head but its not bad.

haha sorry to hear that!

I thought about how we played Cat and Mouse on Skype over the last few years,

constantly flickering back and forth between online and do-not-disturb as though we were

back to turning on the lights too early during Heads Up, Seven Up to mess with everyone. I

thought about you, how you had adjusted to living your life far away from me, how we hadnt

heard each other laugh in so long, how the only thing I could think about as Juniper promposed

to me was how much her smile looked like yours.

I didnt think of the silence until you left me a voicemail, your voice faltering as you tried

to sound like the tough guy I knew you as. I heard you say sorry, but I couldnt forgive you nor

could I try to.

Its unfair how you thought that I would just accept the fact that you left me to face the

challenges of society by myself with a whimpering apology. You might have been my best

friend, but you also left me alone without one, and I cant forgive you for tearing away ten years

of my life like it was nothing.

 Lin 77

Did you think of me once before you made your decision to end your life?

I will never forgive you.

I will spend the rest of my life crying on your death anniversary. I will dedicate every

Day of Silence to mourn over you. For the last three years, I have been mourning the loss of a

voice I hadnt heard in years, and Im beginning to fear that Ill forget what it ever sounded like.

---

Zane,

Do you remember the deal we made on the playground that day?

You sauntered over to me on our first day of pre-school, a slight bounce in your legs. I

glanced up from my claimed corner on the warm plastic slide and thought I was being blinded by

the sun. Your dress, a brilliance of yellow with smudges of lime green from scuttling around in

the freshly cut grass, fluttered behind you as you skid to a stop. You stuck out your hand and

beamed at me with a toothy grin.

Hi! You exclaimed, My name is (dead name). Whats yours?

I mumbled, (dead name). I reluctantly took your hand into mine, unsure of what to do

next.

You took the initiative, giggling as you said, Youre cute! Do you wanna play lava with

me?

Whats lava?

You gasped, absolutely shocked. You dont know how to play lava? You gathered my

hands in yours and tugged on me lightly, pulling me up from my seat on the slide. Cmon, Ill

show you! We have to win, okay?

 Lin 78

From the minute you beamed at me, I knew I couldnt say no. We were bound together

for the next ten years of our lives. We would whisper back and forth effortlessly during

homeroom. I remember when you went off one time about the homophobia in our school:

I swear to God-- the next person I hear say, Its Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve,

Im going to sock them in the face and say, Then explain why its homosapien and not

heterosapien, you uncultured packet of Kraft mayonnaise. It was hard to control myself and not

burst out in laughter and snorts right then and there.

I wish you were still here, reminding me that some things are worth living for, but I guess

there are some things Ive seen in the world that you never will.

---

Zane,

I thought of you once today during silent writing in Writers Studio. I thought about what

would happen if things were different. I thought about you being alive, your boisterous laughter

echoing down the hallway as you remember a joke that everyone already stopped laughing at. I

thought about the years you couldve spent attending Pride Fest with my friends-- our friends--

with me. I thought about the excitement you wouldve felt after I told you shocking news: what I

said to my crush, how they reacted.

I couldnt handle the fact that the world kept moving without you, and forgiving you

wasnt an option yet, so I stopped thinking of you before I imagined living with you by my side

again.

I remember when I first mourned for you on Day of Silence and how I was upset. The

hallways were buzzing as usual, excited giggling and chatter whirring past me like darts aimed at
 Lin 79

a dartboard. My heart stung. I wanted to break my silence and scream at the people who acted

like nothing was wrong in society, that nothing was wrong with transphobia or slurs.

Sometimes, I wonder if being transgender is a smart choice for my safety. Would you be

mad at me for wanting to slink back into the closet, safe under the suffocating mass of being

cisgender and attracted to the man who would become the father of my 2.2 children?

What if we switched places? Would you have seethed internally, forcing yourself to

remain silent as everyone who never knew me continue to move forward in life? Would you

have tried hard not to cry every year on my death anniversary? Would you write to me from time

to time, telling me you cant forgive me for leaving you behind?

I hope that in our next life, we wont leave each other too soon, and that when I tell you I

forgive you, youll be able to hear me.

 Lin 80

RE: You Touched the Lava (Second Draft)

Zane,

I didnt think of the silence until you left me a voicemail, your voice shaking as you

apologized repeatedly. Once I realized why you were apologizing, I couldnt even breathe.

I thought I got used to the silence after you moved to Texas in sixth grade. You tried to

keep in touch, tried to connect with me, but I never felt it. Every now and then, when you would

text me suddenly, we would follow the same old routine:

you good?

im good. You?

cowboy central is whiter than drapalas bald af head but its not bad.

haha sorry to hear that!

I thought about how we played Cat and Mouse on skype over the last few years,

flickering back and forth between online and do-not-disturb as though we were back to

turning the lights on too early during Heads Up, Seven Up to mess with everyone. I thought

about you, how you adjusted to living your life far away from me, how we hadnt heard each

other laugh in so long, how we used to stay up all night in a Skype call where we would expose

our most vulnerable sides.

How could you leave me all alone to face society? How could you say sorry while I was

in school, unaware of what was happening to you? How could you, the boy who convinced me

that life was worth living for, decide that suddenly death sounded much better?

I will never forgive you.

Im afraid to forget that you ever lived.

 Lin 81

---

Zane,

Do you remember the deal we made in pre-school?

You sauntered on over on our very first day, a slight bounce in your legs. I glanced up

from my claimed corner on the warm plastic side and thought I was being blinded by the sun.

Your dress, a brilliance of yellow with smudges of lime green from scuttling around in the

freshly cut grass, fluttered behind you as you skid to a stop. You stuck out your hand and offered

a toothy grin.

Hi! You exclaimed, My name is (dead name). Whats yours?

I mumbled, (dead name). I was unsure of what to do next, reluctantly accepting your

outstretched hand.

You took the initiative, giggling as you said, Youre cute! Do you wanna play lava with

me?

Whats lava?

You gasped, absolutely shocked. You dont know how to play lava? You gathered my

hands in yours and tugged gently, lifting me up from my seat on the slide. Cmon, Ill show

you! We have to win, okay?

I knew from the warmth spreading slowly from my cheeks to the tips of my ears that I

couldnt say no, especially not when you beamed at me so beautifully. We were bound together

for the next ten years of our lives. You taught me the rules of Lava: dont stay in one place for

too long, never let obstacles keep you from moving forward, remember that theres always a way

to escape the lava.

 Lin 82

You taught me the rules of Lava, but in the end, you chose to not follow any of them.

You let the lava consume you, the chills of your dysphoria trailing up your spine until it wrapped

itself around your neck and suspended you from your ceiling.

I wonder if Emily can ever hang paper cranes from her ceiling again without imagining

her brother hanging with them.

---

Zane,

You did something that I could never do for you: come out as transgender to your best

friend. In 5th grade, you came out to me during recess as we washed paint trays for Ms. Rachel,

and I remember how you tucked puffs of brown curls back into your beanie as if the idea of

having long hair cascading down your back disgusted you. Your eyes flickered back and forth in

time with the faint ticking of the clock behind us.

Please say that no matter what happens, you wont be like everyone else, You

whispered, I dont want you to hate me like they do.

I shook my head in disbelief. Why would I-

Im a boy, You blurted out. You paused for a minute, collecting your thoughts. I

mean-- Crap, okay, yeah, Im a boy. Im not (dead name) anymore. Im Zane, and Im a boy, and

Im pretty gray, and--oh god, please tell me you dont think Im weird, or that Im just a super

dyke, or--

Zane, I repeated, loudly and confidently, Zane is my best friend, and hes the cutest

boy I know. Nothing in the entire universe will ever change the fact that I love him, and that I

always will.
 Lin 83

I still love you.

Sometimes, I wonder if being transgender is a danger to my own safety. Would you be

mad at me for slinking back into the closet, safe under the suffocating facade of being the

cisgender wife who fell in love with the man who fathered her 2.2 children? If we switched

places, would you pledge that you would never forgive me?

Our game of Lava bounded us, but you broke the most important rule:

You touched the lava.

You left me to play alone, stuck with no escape.

 Lin 84

RE: You Touched the Lava (Third Draft)

Zane,

I thought I got used to the silence after you moved to Texas in sixth grade. You tried to

keep in touch, tried to connect with me, but I never felt it. Every now and then, when you would

text me suddenly, we would follow the same old routine:

you good?

im good. you?

cowboy central is whiter than drapalas bald af head but its not bad.

haha sorry to hear that!

I thought about how we played Cat and Mouse on skype over the last few years,

flickering back and forth between online and do-not-disturb as though we were back to

turning the lights on too early during Heads Up, Seven Up to mess with everyone. I thought

about you, how you adjusted to living your life far away from me, how we havent heard each

other laugh in so long, how we used to stay up all night in a Skype call where we would expose

our most vulnerable sides.

I didnt think of the silence until you left me a voicemail, your voice shaking as you

apologized repeatedly. Once I realized why you were apologizing, I couldnt even breathe.

How could you leave me alone to face society by myself? How could you say sorry to me

while I was in school, unaware of what was happening to you? How could you, the boy who

convinced me that life was worth living for, decide that suddenly death sounded much better?

I will never forgive you.

 Lin 85

I will spend the rest of my life crying on your death anniversary. I will dedicate every

Day of Silence to mourn over you. I will remember how my best friend-- you-- left me alone in

the world without one, tearing away the last ten years of my life away like it was nothing. Ever

since you died, I have been grieving over the sound of your voice, and Im beginning to fear that

Ill forget the soft grumbling that escaped your throat as I ran my hands through your hair, the

loud laughter that lodged my heart in my throat as it echoed through the room, or the nervous

cracks in your voice that bled through your acts of confidence.

Im afraid to forget that you ever lived.

---

Zane,

Do you remember the deal with made in pre-school?

You sauntered over to me on our very first day, a slight bounce in your legs. I glanced up

from my claimed corner on the warm plastic side and thought I was being blinded by the sun.

Your dress, a brilliance of yellow with smudges of lime green from scuttling around in the

freshly cut grass, fluttered behind you as you skid to a stop. You stuck out your hand and beamed

at me with a toothy grin.

Hi! You exclaimed, My name is (dead name). Whats yours?

I mumbled, (dead name). I was unsure of what to do next, reluctantly accepting your

outstretched hand.

You took the initiative, giggling as you said, Youre cute! Do you wanna play lava with

me?

Whats lava?
 Lin 86

You gasped, absolutely shocked. You dont know how to play lava? You gathered my

hands in yours and tugged on my gently, lifting me up from my seat on the slide. Cmon, Ill

show you! We have to win, okay?

I knew from the warmth spreading slowly from my cheeks to the tips of my ears that I

couldnt say no, especially not when you beamed at me so beautifully. We were bound together

for the next ten years of our lives. You taught me the rules of Lava: dont stay in one place for

too long, never let obstacles keep you from moving forward, remember that theres always a way

to escape the lava.

You taught me the rules of Lava, but in the end, you chose to not follow any of them.

You let the lava consume you, the chills of your dysphoria trailing up your spine until it wrapped

itself around your neck and suspended you from your ceiling.

I wonder if Emily can ever hang paper cranes from her ceiling again without imagining

her brother hanging with them.

---

Zane,

You did something that I could never do for you: come out as transgender to your best

friend. In 5th grade, you came out to me during recess as we washed paint trays for Ms. Rachel,

and I remember how you tucked puffs of brown curls back into your beanie as if the idea of

having long hair cascading down your back disgusted you. Your eyes flickered back and forth in

time with the faint ticking of the clock behind us.

Please say that no matter what happens, you wont be like everyone else, You

whispered, I dont want you to hate me like they do.

 Lin 87

I shook my head in disbelief. Why would I-

Im a boy, You blurted out. You paused for a minute, collecting your thoughts. I

mean- Crap, okay, yeah, Im a boy. Im not (dead name) anymore. Im Zane, and Im a boy, and

Im pretty gray, and-- oh god, please tell me you dont think Im weird, or that Im just a super

dyke, or-

Zane, I repeated, loudly and confidently, Zane is my best friend, and hes the cutest

boy I know. Nothing in the entire universe will ever change the fact that I love him, and that I

always will.

I still love you.

Sometimes, I wonder if being transgender is a danger to my own safety. Would you be

mad at me for slinking back into the closet, safe under the suffocating facade of being the

cisgender wife who fell in love with the man who fathered her 2.2 children? If we switched

places, would you pledge that you would never forgive me?

Our game of Lava bounded us, but you broke the most important rule:

You touched the lava.

You left me to play alone, stuck with no escape.

 Lin 88

RE: You Touched the Lava (Final Draft)

Zane,

I didnt think of the silence until you left me a voicemail, your voice shaking as you

apologized repeatedly. Once I realized why you were apologizing, I couldnt even breathe.

I thought I got used to the silence after you moved to Texas in sixth grade. You tried to

keep in touch, tried to connect with me, but I never felt it. Every now and then, when you would

text me suddenly, we would follow the same old routine:

you good?

im good. you?

cowboy central is whiter than drapalas bald af head but its not bad.

haha sorry to hear that!

I thought about how we played Cat and Mouse on Skype over the last few years,

flickering back and forth between online and do-not-disturb as though we were back to

turning the lights on too early during Heads Up, Seven Up to mess with everyone. I thought

about you, how you adjusted to living your life far away from me, how we havent heard each

other laugh in so long, how we used to stay up all night in a Skype call where we would let

ourselves be vulnerable.

How could you leave me alone to face society by myself? How could you say sorry to me

while I was in school, unaware of what was happening to you? How could you, the boy who

convinced me that life was worth living for, decide that suddenly death sounded much better?

I will never forgive you.

Im afraid to forget that you ever lived.

 Lin 89

---

Zane,

Do you remember the deal we made in pre-school?

You sauntered on over on our very first day, a slight bounce in your legs. I glanced up

from my claimed corner on the warm plastic side and thought I was being blinded by the sun.

Your dress, a brilliance of yellow with smudges of lime green from scuttling around in the

freshly cut grass, fluttered behind you as you skid to a stop. You stuck out your hand and offered

a toothy grin.

Hi! You exclaimed, My name is (dead name). Whats yours?

I mumbled, (dead name). I was unsure of what to do next, reluctantly accepting your

outstretched hand.

You took the initiative, giggling as you said, Youre cute! Do you wanna play Lava with

me?

Whats Lava?

You gasped, shocked. You dont know how to play Lava? You gathered my hands in

yours and tugged gently, lifting me up from my seat on the slide. Cmon, Ill show you! We

have to win, okay?

I knew from the warmth spreading slowly from my cheeks to the tips of my ears that I

couldnt say no, especially not when you beamed so beautifully. We were bound together for the

next ten years of our lives. You taught me the rules of Lava: dont stay in one place for too long,

never let obstacles keep you from moving forward, try to always look for a way to escape the

lava.
 Lin 90

You taught me the rules of Lava but in the end, you chose to not follow any of them. You

let the lava consume you, the chill of your dysphoria trailing up your spine until it wrapped itself

around your neck and suspended you from your ceiling.

I wonder if Emily can ever hang paper cranes from her ceiling again without imagining

her brother hanging with them.

---

Zane,

You did something that I could never do for you: come out as transgender to your best

friend. In 5th grade, you came out to me during recess while we washed paint trays for Ms.

Rachel, and I remember how you tucked puffs of brown curls back into your beanie as if the idea

of having long hair cascading down your back disgusted you. Your eyes flickered back and forth

with every faint tick of the clock behind us.

Please say that no matter what happens, you wont be like everyone else, You

whispered, I dont want you to hate me like they do.

I shook my head in disbelief. Why would I--

Im a boy, You blurted out. You paused for a minute, collecting your thoughts. I

mean--Crap, okay, yeah, Im a boy. Im not (dead name) anymore. Im Zane, and Im a boy, and

Im pretty gay, and--oh god, please tell me you dont think Im weird, or that Im just a super

dyke, or--

Zane, I slowly repeated, confidently, Zane is my best friend, and hes the cutest boy I

know. Nothing in the entire universe will ever change the fact that I love him, and that I always

will.
 Lin 91

I still love you.

Sometimes, I wonder if being transgender is a danger to my own safety. Would you be

mad at me for slinking back into the closet, safe under the suffocating facade of being the

cisgender wife who fell in love with the man who fathered her 2.2 children? If we switched

places, would you pledge that you would never forgive me?

Our game of Lava bound us, but you broke the most important rule:

You touched the lava.

You left me to play alone, stuck with no escape.

 Lin 92

Response to Readers: Katie

As a writer and a friend, Ive always admired Katie for many things. Her writing is

authentic and genuine of her character, but this doesnt necessarily mean it isnt professional in

the slightest either. Katies usage of humor and self-deprecation (not in an alarming way, please

note) creates the general essence of her voice, and I can recognize her writing fairly often in the

midst of many works.

One of the main things about Katies written works is that they all contain high amounts

of personality. From a readers viewpoint, I get the sense that Katie is someone who is

light-hearted and serious in terms of her craft, especially when concerning how she compared

revision of writing to a starved rabid wolf in her piece, The Words Have Teeth. From the lines, I

dont want to become the girl who cried wolf / because people will tell me that the wolf is shot

dead / as if a dead wolf cant haunt you with the memory / Of its bite I can assume that Katies

process of revision haunts her in the same way of a dedicated writer spending their lifetime

revising and editing their work to pure perfection.

Because of the multitudes of personality within her works, Katie captures the sense of

originality in her voice as well. Although there are instances in which cliche can be seen in her

poetry, Katie does well to meld them to her own personal taste. Actually, I was surprised when

Katie wrote, That I drag along behind me but desperately / Try to ignore by keeping my eyes on

tomorrow / But you cant look towards tomorrow / When yesterday put needles through your

eyes specifically because I was expecting a much more extended stanza on the concept of being

anchored down by yesterday instead of being stabbed in the eyes.

 Lin 93

I have to admit, that although there is repetition in The Words Have Teeth, it is done in

moderation and it gives Katie the advantage of hooking the readers onto her words. In the second

to last stanza, the words, For is repeated at the beginning at most of the lines, dragging the

reader into the thought of what is at stake for Katie to write a poem she cannot currently write.

There are so many risks to being a writer that it is sometimes terrifying to write in general.

Hearing the piece was definitely much more preferred than reading it. I enjoy readings

because I love to hear interpretations of writing, seeing as how my voice is much more different

than others. Katie reads at a different pace than me, pausing at many places that I wouldnt have

thought about. Besides, in my case especially, my piece looked much shorter on paper, so it

wouldnt be a first thought that I could have spent my three minutes of reading time to read my

poetry collection. The power of verbal tactics!

 Lin 94

Panda Bear (First Draft)

When my older sister came home from a long day of shopping for dorm furniture and

small snacks that fit just right in her suitcases, she brought home with her a big box that was

covered neatly in wrapping paper, hearts drawn with Sharpie colors I never knew existed, and

farewell messages in large, swirly handwriting. I scanned over the box with awestruck eyes and

made sure to sit extra close to it while I was helping my sister pack for college in her room. I

made sure to subtly hint to my sister the entire time we were packing that I was interested in

what she brought home, and that I hoped she would tell me what was inside the interestingly

decorated box.

Natalie gave it to me, she started off, not really paying attention to me. I didnt get

the chance to open it yet. Do you want to see whats inside it?

I nodded and scooted the box over to my sister, watching excitedly as she opened up her

present. Inside was a stuffed panda toy with a head that was way too big for its body. She pulled

it out of the tissue paper, handing it to me so that I could play with it as she continued packing. I

was absolutely in love with the stuffed panda as I lolled its big head back and forth, finding

amusement in the way the pandas head just naturally seemed like a bobble-head figure I always

saw at gift shops down in Chinatown or department stores like Walmart and Target.

After my sister unwrapped the gift her friend gave her, I always dragged it around with

me wherever I went. If I was going to sleep, I would always have the stuffed panda tucked

securely in my arms, just as ready for bed-time as I was. Sometimes, when my cousins were over

for sleepovers as well, we would all gather around our respective stuffed animals and have small

events such as tea parties or pretend job interviews. Named as Pandy, my new panda pal was
 Lin 95

integrated into every step of my life, and I never went anywhere without her unless I was going

to school or to a formal party. Even on the road-trip to my sisters college campus, I brought

Pandy with me, basking in the precious moments of being with my stuffed companion for the

long hours of driving on the road.

As I was playing with Pandy in my sisters dorm, I remember my sister sighing at me and

sitting down on her bed with me. She asked me, Will you be sad if Pandy has to stay at college

with me?

I didnt understand what that meant. I always assumed that Pandy would stay with me

forever and always. I told my sister that I wouldnt be sad because Pandy wont be staying at

college with my sister, but rather with me, at home where she belonged. I clutched Pandy close

to my heart, not willing to let go of my best friend.

Well, Natalie gave me Pandy to look after, you know. I cant look after her if she isnt

here with me, and I dont know if I can trust you to take care of her. Youre just a baby. My

sister rustled my hair and pat Pandy on the head as well. But, since you love Pandy so much,

you have to promise me that youll take extra special care of her in my place.

I never nodded my head so vehemently in my life before that moment. As long as I had

Pandy with me, I didnt mind what conditions I had to accept nor what promises I had to make. I

pinky-promised my sister that I would take care of Pandy, reassuring her that I would never let

her out of my sight.

 Lin 96

Panda Bear (Final Draft)

There are very few things from my past that I let influence my present-day self, whether

it was a bad experience with learning how to ride a bike that ended in bandages littering my

knees or always knowing that the word sleepover meant my cousins were going to flood into

my house like a much needed rainstorm after a drought. I catalogued every childhood memory

under smiling with all my teeth or pouting as masses of tears threatened to make someones day

terrible, but there were always a few things I couldnt quite place in my binary system; things I

couldnt tell whether I was excited for it to happen or dreading the day it did.

The concept of my sister leaving for college was foreign to me. When late August rolled

around and back-to-school shopping for my sister included less of the fresh packs of glue sticks

or newly-sharpened color pencils and more of the mega packs of comforters and snacks she

could hide in the mini-pockets of her suitcases, I felt suspicious of what was to come. I felt

especially suspicious of when she arrived home one day after saying one last goodbye to her

friends with a box covered neatly in wrapping paper, hearts drawn in Sharpie colors I never

knew existed, and farewell messages in large, swirly handwriting. If I tried really hard, I could

have wrapped my arms around the box and check what was in it myself, but I knew I had to wait

for my sister to open it before I did.

With a ten-year age gap between my older sister and I, there was always a bridge or two I

never pushed myself to cross. I had to approach the box as subtly as I could, so instead of

downright asking for my sister to tell me what was in it, I simply scooted closer to the box as I

helped her pack her clothes into the suitcases scattered around her room, though I mostly pushed

clothes to her and she folded them rather than me folding them.
 Lin 97

When my sister noticed I wasnt really paying attention to my pushing of clothes, she

connected the dots and said, Natalie gave it to me. I didnt open it yet because I didnt want

Mom to throw it away. Do you want to see whats inside it?

I excitedly picked up the box and plopped it down in front of my sister, watching

intensely as she carefully peeled the tape away from the corners of the wrapping paper and

rustled through the thinner sheets of tissue paper inside. After a minute of shuffling, she pulled

out a stuffed panda with a head that was too big for its tiny body. Since my sister was still busy

with packing, she handed me the panda and left me to my own musings.

I remember swaddling the stuffed panda gently in my arms, giggling at how the pandas

head lolled around as I rocked it back and forth. The soft plush of the panda was just so

irresistibly cute that I couldnt help but squish the big head down to even out the proportions of

the pandas body. Deemed as Pandy, my new panda pal was officially my new best friend for

when my sister or brother didnt have time for me in the midst of my sisters packing and my

brothers lengthy gameplay of World of Warcraft. Although I lost the two people who would

purposely lose Mario Party 6 for me when I felt bad about missing the chance to buy a star, I

gained someone who would at least watch me as I played story-mode by myself.

Pandy was with me through all the hard times: when my family and I dropped my sister

off in Michigan for the very first time, when I hugged my sister goodbye with tearful waterfalls

flowing down my face, and when I had to return home to an unshared bed and a barren room. I

would always clutch Pandy tightly in my arms as I video-called my sister, wondering if my sister

was ever going to give me a solid answer to, When are you coming home? My loyal stuffed

friend was with me through all the Hello, jie jie's and Bye-byes.
 Lin 98

When I said goodbye to my sister, I could always say hello to Pandy as she sat snug in

my arms; never leaving me when I was lonely or upset. With Pandy, I spent less days wondering

when my sister was going to bring back her stuff to replace the empty walls of our room and

more days wondering how I could convince my teachers to do more take-home arts and crafts

projects; how I could possibly clutter up the desk my sister left neatly in the corner or doodle on

the whiteboard pinned a little too high up for me on her closet door.

With Pandy came the possibility of less reliance on my sister and more independence for

myself. If it wasnt for that fateful day that my sister brought Pandy home in a box Natalie gave

her, I wouldnt have found my lucky charm for when my days are just too lonely.