MELBOURNE CENTRAL CATHOLIC HIGH SCHOOL

Volume 22 Issue 2 Summer 2014

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Table of Contents

Home by Concetta Ginevra …………..…………………………….5

Dad by Lexie Duan………………………………………...………6

Haikus by Jenna Barnak………………………………………...…..7

The Tiger by Shannon Ament ………………..………………...…..8

Protection by Elizabeth Velasquez-Carabello………………….....…8

Home by Shannon Ament …………………………………..….....10

A Walking Contradiction by Katie Kelley… ………………...…….11

The Flower by Concetta Ginevra ………………………………….12

Haikus by Blake Hildreth, Tori Adams, and Jenna Barnak…......…….13

The Will by Blake Hildreth……………………………………….14

Valentine by Katie Kelley ………………………………………....15

A Big Mistake by Jenna Barnak……..……………………………...16

An Early Summer Evening by Ryan Craft………………………..…18

Stockings by Brianna Mills………………………………...………19

The Fighter by Vaughne Chavez-Gray……………………………..20

Anticipation by Vaughne Chavez-Gray…………………………….21

Memory by Manuel Perez-Mena………………………………..…22

Untitled by Shannon Ament ……………………………………...23

Shock Blanket by Concetta Ginevra………………………………. 24

A Song Unlike Any Other by Tori Adams…………………………22

Inside the Box by Concetta Ginevra and Katie Kelley………….…….24

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Artwork

Taylor Wood…………………….………..……7, 8

Sandra Sabin …………………….………………. 9

Brooke Emison……...…..……………..…………..11

Haley Guame ……...……………….…………….13

Taylor Wood…………………………….…..14, 15

Alex Williams ………………………….………..17

Eric Zhang ……………………………..….…….20

Kevin Sang ……..……………..………………….21

Katie Kelley …………..…………………………22

Alyssa Palsis……………………………………..23

Cover photo by Summer Landolfi, Class of 2014

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The Kaleidoscope Staff

• Tori Adams, Class of 2016

• Shannon Ament, Class of 2016

• Jenna Barnak, Class of 2016

• Vaughne Chavez-Gray, Class of 2014

• Ryan Craft, Class of 2016

• Concetta Ginevra, Class of 2016

• Blake Hildreth, Class of 2016

• Katie Kelley, Class of 2016

• Brianna Mills, Class of 2014

• Manny Perez-Mena, Class of 2014

• Elizabeth Velasquez-Carabello, Class of 2015

Advisor: Mrs. Mary Byrnes

© 2014 by The Kaleidoscope Staff of Melbourne Central Catholic High School. All rights reserved. This publication is the work of current Central Catholic students and in no way represents the views of the school, its teachers, or its affiliates.

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Home I used to think that home was a small, yellow house On the corner of Andrews and Mango, One with bright flower gardens and a shimmering pool. It was near the river, Up the street from my friend's house, And only two houses away from my boyfriend's. I loved the smell of the old carpet And the color of my mother's deep red kitchen. Ten years of my life Were spent there, And on that front porch I posed for a photo of my first day of kindergarten And my last day of eighth grade. I remember when my parents Broke the news to me. "We're moving," they said. My heart swelled, and then shattered. A new house meant moving away From the life that I'd come to love. After many nights spent Lying awake with a heavy feeling Of dread in my stomach, I gave up on fighting the move. It's only now, One year later, That I realize this house has seen More of my emotions, Life choices, And changes than the previous one, And as I fall into bed While listening to the ocean's waves, I realize that a house is only a house; It's the people and the experiences within That make it a home. Concetta Ginevra Class of 2016

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Dad

You were the first person happy to see me. When I was just born into this world and opened my eyes, You told me, “You are my little princess.” Happy is when I open my arms, I know you will hold me up. You are the first person to give confidence to me. When I was afraid to go to school and to talk to others, You told me, “You are the best.” Confidence if when I turn my head and look, I know you are behind me. You are the first person to give independence to me. When I confessed fear about my future and still relied on you, You told me, “You are my dream.” Dreaming is every step I walk, I know you will always support me. When I was a little girl, I sat on your powerful shoulders To see the whole world. I loved you. Now that I can reach to touch your head, I see your hair gradually turning white. I still love you. In the future, I might be taller than you, And I will bring you to see the new world. I will always love you as you love me. Lexie Duan Class of 2016

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The ocean is big Beneath a world unknown Unknown to myself The pain in my heart Ignites the question why now Why take another? Jenna Barnak Class of 2016

Artwork by Taylor Wood, Class of 2017

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The Tiger The tiger sits, Waiting. He looks hungrily at his prey. He slowly licks his lips. He knows he can't pounce now, But he wants to. Slowly he traps his prey Without being seen., He carefully makes a circle And decides Now is the time. He grabs his prey with his teeth, And rips the animal apart. He thrashes his kill around, Just to show everyone who's boss. Just like in life. Shannon Ament Class of 2016

Bengal Tiger by Taylor Wood, Class of 2017

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Protection The silence creeps through the house, until I’m awakened by a sound. He was bursting into tears, as she lay there so still. I did not know what to do; that’s when my heart broke into two.

Protection The silence creeps through the house, until I’m awakened by a sound. He was bursting into tears, as she lay there so still. I did not know what to do; that’s when my heart broke into two. Her skin was cold as ice, as I hold her hand by my side. Her lips were so purple, I just couldn't understand. Door slammed open with a thump, made me quickly jump. They came rushing in. Could they save her in the end? They picked her up, as if she was light as a feather. I watched as they carried her away, as the tears came rushing down my face. I turned and saw my sister; it was now my duty to protect her. Her eyes turned dark red, too young to comprehend. I pulled her close, as she took it all in. Elizabeth Velasquez-Carabello Class of 2015

Eye of Pain by Sandra Sabin, Class of 2014

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Home The cold air joined by the tapping of the rain, That's when I sleep the best. All wrapped up in my covers, Safe and sound. I am happy. I am home. When my dog follows me around, Looking for scraps. When I walk through the familiar hallways, I think of the happy times. It still feels like home. Even after all these years, No place could ever feel this way. No place could ever feel like home. This is it. Home. Shannon Ament Class of 2016

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A Walking Contradiction I am yin, I am yang. I am two polar opposites rolled into one. I am black; I am white (I am brooding and cynical, I am innocent and pure) I am a myriad of conflicts that somehow manage to coexist within one pulsing body. I am all; I am nothing (I am ultimately superior, I am cripplingly inadequate) I am somehow above my species, yet I am overwhelmingly human. I am untouchable; I am fragile (I judge from my pedestal, I fret over appearances) I suffer from the syndrome of chronic contemplation. I am superior; I am lowest of the low (I am an exceptional being, I require extensive validation) I struggle with self-loathing versus an overbearing ego. I am a planner; I am easily daunted (I am apparently idealistic, I exist in a near-constant state of blissful denial) I know what I want but I'm not too sure how to get it. I am empathy; I am cold (I am overly sympathetic, I deliberately distance myself) I can never be sure exactly where I stand with people- after all, they could be as conflicted as I. I am a puzzle of opposing forces I am a swirling void of clashing concepts I am a confused and confuddled conundrum To put it simply- I am a walking contradiction. Katie Kelley Class of 2016

Time Out of Mind by Brooke Emison, Class of 2015

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The Flower Love is like a flower. It blossoms in the springtime Under the newly-awakened sun And catches in the wind, Stretching its petals, Ready and eager and bright. It is trusting and naive And not fearful of the Heat of the sun Or the clashing of a storm In the distance. In the summer, it has grown. It knows its way and its nature, And is stronger than it was before. The heavy sun Does not fade its color, Nor does the evening rain Cause its stem to break. When the autumn chill Reaches out through the soil Like cold, white hands, The flower’s hue grows brown And it bows its head In silent protest. When the snow falls And gathers on the ground In bright, heavy heaps, The flower cracks And wilts And withers So that the winter May have its day. When spring comes around again, New buds will rise from what once was And the promise of a new day Will make it full again. Concetta Ginevra Class of 2016

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Rhythm in my toes All a dancer really knows To the eight count beat Tori Adams Class of 2016

Leaves falling from trees, Snowflakes drifting to the ground Days are getting short. Blake Hildreth Class of 2016

Sing me a beautiful song one that will open my heart one with a thousand notes Jenna Barnak Class of 2016

The Life You Want by Haley Guame, Class of 2014

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The Will

“I’m sorry about the recent death of your father, but both of you must move on,” said the lawyer. “Do you both understand this?” “Yes,” my sister and I said simultaneously. “Very well,” the lawyer continued. “Let’s proceed with the will.” “ ‘To my dear children, if you are reading this, then I have moved on. I hereby leave my exotic/classic car collection to my son, and most of my money to my daughter. The mansion is to be evenly split between you two. Even in death, know that I always love you. Father.’ ” “That’s it?” I blurted out. “That’s the whole will?” The lawyer responded, but I zoned out. I would’ve thought that our dad, “Mr. Talks-a-lot,” would’ve said more. My thoughts were suddenly interrupted with an, “Okay?” from the lawyer. I quickly responded with a “yes,” and we parted ways. “I still think I should’ve gotten the Ferrari,” my sister told me. I responded with, “Dad left you all the money. Just go buy one. They only cost, what, a million dollars?” “But I want one of Dad’s,” she complained. “All you ever do is complain, complain, complain! ‘Look at me! I’m the daughter of a millionaire!” I said. She was mad now. “Don’t you dare mimic me,” she screamed. “Get out of my life!” “I never want to see you again,” I replied. That was twelve years ago. The last time I saw my sister. Oh, the things I wish I could take back. Blake Hildreth Class of 2016

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Open Heart by Taylor Wood, Class of 2017

Valentine I give you a rock. You seem puzzled, but you shouldn't be- A better symbol than flowers that will wither and crumble Or even chocolate that melts in your mouth and is gone forever. Love weighs you down. It may be a little rough around the edges And far from perfect But true love is a constant Stable and unmoving. Not immune to pressure, however- Once you crack it open You're greeted by a smattering of sharp, glimmering crystals. I have given you a geode What lies within Still is not perfect; It retains its jagged edges With the potential to slice you to the quick. But the gems gleaming within A pulsing, warm radiation Growing and making that rock beautiful From the inside out. Be careful, though- Don't cut yourself. Katie Kelley Class of 2016

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Big Mistake The truth comes out in a person She has changed She has become a different person A someone I cannot trust anymore I might have made mistakes But I could never top the mistake you made The mistake that leads to nothing but yourself I have defended you and in return you stripped my heart You have known me You tell me I’m immature You act the same way Why accuse me of this? We are both the same. Jenna Barnak Class of 2016

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A Heart Breaks from the Inside Out I see you and I see much more I see you and I see me next to you I see your head rest on my shoulders I see dreams finally come to life I see your number in my phone and smile. I don’t like you I barely know you but I know who we could be I have caught myself thinking about you more often than sometimes I find my heart racing when my phone flashes your name I barely know you but I entertain the idea of you until I see it clear and smile. I ache when you don’t answer I cringe when I think about life before and after you I tremble when I think realistically I sweat when I remember who I am I itch when eternal loneliness seems possible I see you and I realize I’m making this all about me and not you and smile. Ryan Craft Class of 2016

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An Early Summer Evening Seaweed collects white foam on its frayed edges as the shore rises and falls. The sun slowly tucks behind the dunes to bid us farewell. Shadows rise from the trees and a cold wind picks up. My hand stretches around her so her body can press against mine. A fidgety hand finds settlement on a cold shoulder. Her eyes shine with a faded teal and her soft red hair picks up with the sea breeze to tease my neck. We awaken our legs to walk away from the diminishing beauty that the sunlight brings upon an early summer evening. Ryan Craft Class of 2016

Artwork by Taylor Wood, Class of 2017

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Stockings She slid the stockings on, Careful not to catch them, For a catch would leave a tear, Something not paraded by the fair. The midnight stockings were without flaw: Black as a raven, bright as a star, But something was not right. They let through no light. The stockings made her lovely, yes, But they made the viewer blind to what was within. Her pale. speckled skin Not showing, He true, flawed self, No longer glowing. She looked in the mirror, Troubled by what she saw. It was not she there in the glass; The stockings: A spell they must have cast. Her fingers plays with the black Edge on her waist. She was not ready to give up The perfection she, for so long, had chased. She slid the stocking off, Not caring if she would catch them, For a catch would leave a tear, And she no longer cared. Brianna Mills Class of 2014

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The Boxer by Alex Williams, Class of 2017

The Fighter He puts on his fighter face His opponent cannot see his weariness He frowns His eyebrows turn in While hands turn into fists He enters the ring for all the world To see his fighter face. Vaughne Chavez-Gray Class of 2014

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Anticipation My heart beating out of my chest Time feels as if it is standing still My head makes all the noise around me Seem as if it is not at rest. Warm-ups begin and I am in the zone. My palms are sweaty and my limbs feel like Overcooked spaghetti. I panic as the ball becomes harder to catch The closer the game gets the faster my heart races. I just want to play. I want the anticipation to be over. Finally the buzzer sounds, indicating game time. We honor our country The song seems like an eternity. Then the announcements start and suddenly My name is called. It is game times and the nerves wash away By the sudden hypnotic sound of the ball Bouncing up and down on the cold wood floor. The ball and I become one. The game has officially begun. Vaughne Chavez-Gray Class of 2014

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Memory Fifteen minutes left in the game, Only ahead 2 to 1, But the fans were hungry for more. I was looking for a pass, that was my aim, I know we had the game won, But this was my chance to score. The ball on my feet, I could feel the heat, I had to pass the ball Because ahead I saw Paul. Immediately he passed it back, So I could continue the attack. I planted my right foot, As I set up to shoot. Next thing I know, I had scored, And the crowd loudly roared. Manuel Perez-Mena Class of 2014

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Artwork by Eric Zhang, Class of 2016

Untitled The hallway seems endless. I know I didn't choose the easy path, But I can't even see the end. It just looks like a never ending hallway. All my work seems pointless. It's all busy work in my mind. I don't know where this hallway leads, Or what I will find. I don't know what I want to find when I'm done. The walk can be nice sometimes. I can imagine all the great things that are waiting for me. I don't want this hallway to end, Because the moment it does, I can't dream of what is waiting for me. I don't know what hallway I'm in. Right now, it's untitled, But it’s mine. Shannon Ament Class of 2016

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The Mask The request is repeated once more. A cage shook holding a beast pushed back into a small shadowed corner. Her hands traced the rough rock wall as she begs me to take them down so she can come in. A closer step made my muscles flinch and my blade sharpen. The words rang out of her mouth to manipulate my mind and weaken my heart. I felt the sheets of stone peel and crumble until nothing but a weak muscle was once more vulnerable. The wounds and scars were opened once more. As I hit the send button, the lock on the cage broke off. Containment of who I once was no longer existed. The ground faulted and my muscles grew weak and my bones fractured once more. She knows who I am. Once again, the mask is removed.

Ryan Craft Class of 2016

Artwork by Kevin Sang, Class of 2016

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Shock Blanket Pale light fills the room And seeps into his soul, A growing, aching, drowning feeling, That surely takes its toll. The man, he sits, And waits it out, His heart and mind both pounding. A silent scream escapes his throat, As he searches for some type of grounding. He blocks the voices in his head, As much as his mind will allow, And pulls the blanket closer still. He'll be okay, for now. Concetta Ginevra Class of 2016

Artwork by Katie Kelley, Class of 2016

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A Song Unlike Any Other The American flag sings a song unlike any other—the song of a united family. Each and every star and stripe creates a sound, "From the lakes of Minnesota" all the way to "Sea to shining sea". Every note pours love from the brave men and women that have fought and died for the freedom of the American people. The American flag song does not always flow smoothly from beginning to end, but the piece still goes on. Through each missed note, as well as every note recovered, the American people continue to listen as one.

Tori Adams Class of 2016

Artwork by Alyssa Palsis, Class of 2014

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Inside the Box

It was hard to see through the pouring rain. The fog was thick. It was supposed to rain

all night and through to tomorrow, Valentine’s Day. It was especially unfortunate for any

couples planning on enjoying a nice, sunny day. I imagined a good night of Chinese takeout

and Netflix ahead of me. My after-school shift at the local dog pound drained me, and I was

ready to change into my sweatpants.

I sloppily pulled into the driveway and reached into the back seat for my umbrella. Of

course, just my luck, I had forgotten it. I dashed through the downpour, my clothes getting

instantly soaked. As I took refuge on my front porch, pushing the wet hair out of my eyes and

letting my clothes dry off, I noticed a somewhat soggy cardboard box out of the corner of my

eye. I figured it was for my mother, who was working a late shift at the hospital, and fumbled

with my keys, intending to leave it for her. I decided that I might as well bring it inside so it

wouldn’t get any damper.

I scooped it up and set it down on the kitchen table, then changed and headed to the

living room for a movie. What to watch on Netflix… I picked up the remote and switched on

the first romantic comedy that I could find. I checked my phone for the third time - still no

messages from Sean. It was odd; he normally texted me right after school. We were supposed

to be planning our Valentine’s date. The thought of it made me swoon - we had been dating

for six months now, and our bond strengthened every day.

He was probably busy, yet I couldn’t help but wonder why he wasn’t answering. I

decided to call him. I dialed his number and held the phone to my ear; it rang several times

before I noticed something. Covering the speaker, I realized that my phone was ringing too -

my house phone, I presumed. I walked into the kitchen, but oddly, it wasn’t our landline.

I stopped and looked around. The ringing was somewhat muffled. Suddenly I realized

that the ringtone seemed familiar. Could it be… Sean’s ringtone? “Sean?” I called out, turning

on all of the kitchen lights. No one was there. “Hello?” I called again. No response. I hesitantly

walked around the table, trying to find the source of the sound. It seemed to be coming from

the damp cardboard box I’d left there.

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Impulsively, I grabbed some scissors and made a slit in the packaging tape that was

holding the flaps closed. The ringing had ceased and my phone had gone to Sean’s voicemail,

so I hit redial. It was certainly coming from inside the box. “Is this a prank?” I grumbled to no

one in particular. Carefully, I lifted the cardboard flaps. Inside were three things. First I noticed

the phone. It was definitely Sean’s. I picked it up and flipped it open: two missed calls from

me, three missed calls from his parents, and a few unread text messages. How odd.

Next I picked up the small, carefully-folded note that had been lying next to it. The

lettering was meticulously done in a faded reddish-brown ink. “Adriana” it said in neat, curly

letters. I opened it. “Happy Valentine’s Day” was scripted across the page. No signature.

Lastly I noticed the small, round item wrapped in parchment. Maybe it was a gift. I

picked it up and began to tear back the wrapping. My eyes widened. Before I knew it, I had

dropped the soggy “gift” and covered my mouth to suppress a scream. I took a step back from

the table, taking deep, shaky breaths. What kind of sick joke was this? A thick, coppery smell

began to invade my nostrils, and I drew my hands back from my face to find that my fingertips

were… bloody?

Bile rose in my throat as my suspicions got the better of me and I edged toward the

partially unwrapped parcel again. Whatever was inside was bright red and meaty - still fresh. I

picked it up once again, making sure that I didn’t directly touch the contents. Holding it at

elbow’s length, I peeled back the paper a bit more. And a bit more. Whatever the object was, it

was somewhat dense and firm, with tube-like protrusions and partitions of what appeared to be

thick muscle. What was this? It didn’t look like any cut of meat I had ever seen before.

Suddenly, it hit me. Roughly pear-like in shape, with severed arteries -

This was a heart.

I tried to calm my own heartbeat as I struggled to hold my phone. I dialed my mother’s

number. It rang for what seemed like forever, to no avail. She didn’t answer. Tears began to

form in my eyes. What was going on? I needed to calm down. I needed Sean. I quickly searched

through my phone until I found his mother’s number. To my relief, she picked up right away.

“Hi, sweetie,” came her sugary voice.

“Mrs. Hunter, there’s something-” I began to blurt out, but she cut me off.

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“Are you two having fun?” she teased.

“Are we… what?” I stuttered. “Mrs. Hunter, where’s Sean?”

She paused for a moment. “He isn’t with you?”

“No, do you know where he might be?”

“I’m sorry, honey, I don’t. I thought he was with you. He didn’t come home after

school.”

I took a deep breath. The kitchen was starting to smell strongly of a metallic richness. I

guess I must have paused for some time, because suddenly I heard Mrs. Hunter shouting in my

ear.

“I-I’m sorry,” I said quietly before hanging up. My head was spinning as I stumbled

towards a chair, grabbing the edge of the table with shaking hands. This was all too much;

finding the heart, Sean going missing… Could those two events possibly be connected? Could

that mean…? I felt sick, but I forced myself to pick up the phone again, punching in 911 and

holding it up to my ear. After that, everything was a blur. I vaguely remember speaking to

someone before hanging up and collapsing back into my chair, letting everything fall into a

dizzy void.

When I came to, there was a shock blanket around my shoulders and the heart was gone

from the table. The letter and phone were both gone too, I noticed. Red and blue lights flashed

through the kitchen window. It took me a minute to realize that there were voices coming from

the other room. I shrugged the blanket from my shoulders and stood up. “Hello?” I called.

Right away, several police officers rushed to my side. Voices filled my ears, but I

couldn’t make out any words. I still felt dizzy. Firm hands held my shoulders and placed me

back down in the chair. I didn’t want to sit. “Is my mom here?” I asked, pushing the words

through the fog in my brain. Someone assured me that she was on her way.

“We’re going to have to ask you some questions, okay?” another officer asked. I nodded

mutely, my head pounding.

They asked me about the box, about Sean, and about my conversation with his mother

(supposedly she and her husband were on their way over as well). They told me that the heart -

which was indeed what it was - had been sent to the lab to have some tests done. I was dreading

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finding out the results. All of the questions were starting to overwhelm me. I felt like I was

going to throw up. “Please,” I started, “can I go out for some fresh air?”

The officers muttered quietly to each other for a moment before agreeing to let me go

out for a few minutes. I nodded gratefully and hurried outside, feeling the muscles in my body

relax as I stepped out into the cool night air. The rain had slowed to a calming drizzle. I walked

down to the edge of the driveway and sat myself on the curb, hugging my arms close to my

body. Soon enough, it was hard to differentiate the raindrops from my tears. All of the fear and

pain that had pooled in my body now came rushing out, and I furiously wiped at my cheeks.

I could barely make out a shadowy figure past the blurriness of my vision. A boy stood

in front of me, holding out his hand. I hesitated for a moment before taking it and allowing

him to pull me up. I quickly recognized him from school; we had a few classes together.

“Hannibal… Lecter, is it?”

He smiled. “It’s nice to see you, Adriana.”

It truly was nice to see someone I knew. After the initial rush of relief, I was confused.

“What are you doing here? I didn’t know you lived in the area,” I managed to get out between

shaky breaths and sniffles.

“I don’t live around here. I was visiting my aunt this weekend. She lives a few streets

over. After the rain stopped, I decided to go for a little walk. I heard the police sirens and

thought I’d come investigate. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

I nodded and tried to stop the flow of tears. “Things are a little hectic right now.”

“I can see that,” he said in a voice that was almost eerily smooth. “Why don’t you tell

me what happened.”

I did. I told him everything that had gone on, all of my worries, all of my fears; in the

process, I started helplessly sobbing again. He just pulled me close, letting me rest my head on

his chest. I don’t know how long I was there or what other words were exchanged, but I can

still distinctly remember the sweet yet coppery scent of his cologne.

Concetta Ginevra Class of 2016

Katie Kelley Class of 2016

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