The Ferry Back
By Morgan Crooks

It is the only thing I bring of Dad’s, the only thing I can bring. Everything else is too dangerous for college or brings me too much grief. But this small white circle of cloth is different.

It is about the size of a half dollar, bearing a simple blue boat in front of a waterfall. I was proud of it once, sure it meant something to him. Then I showed it to my grandfather.

By E.M. Paulsen

The laundromat looks crowded, which is surprising for a Wednesday afternoon. The boy in uniform stands outside the glass door, sees himself in it, and squares his shoulders. He shifts the weight of the duffel slung across him, swings wide the door and steps through it. Despite the crust of snow covering the mountains, the laundromat has a steamy jungle heat.

Abra’s Price
By Katja L. Kaine

Once I was not the person I am.
I had little. I was poor. But I was not unhappy. The days were hot and dusty, the food simple but good. I had a tin roof to sleep under and a school with brick walls.