Judger
Sofia Smith

Subway. The terror of being alone got to me- again. I rested my eyes on a teenage girl. I looked at her with disgust and road the drift of judging.

Look at her. She looked like one of those Greek combinations of a man and an animal.  A face of a rat, body of a man. Except she looked even worse.

Her head was tilted the wrong way. I could smell the stink coming from her mouth and body. I looked at her clothes from top to bottom and shook my head. This girl has no style.

 Her hair looked like a bird’s nest. She tried to have a messy bun, though. Her accessories were put on wrong. She tried to be classy, though. Her mouth literally looked like a horse’s butt. But she wanted to be pretty for once, though. I would kill to destroy that outfit. It was NOT matching and the bleached colors on the shirt looked like they were mixed into one color. But she didn’t want to look depressed for once, though. I could see the makeup on all her zits, there was a lot of them. But she wanted to hide her imperfections, though.  And those scars. Those bruised and scares surrounding her body like a mime field. Those scars resemble her misery and sadness, though. And those bruises were a mime field. As one was touched more pain and disaster was made into a big mess of destruction.

I looked down to her shoes. They were pink. Again not matching... I shook my head again. This time I’ve noticed a signature.

I looked away from my reflection. I laughed with a tone of sarcasm and said: ‘Every time..’ and repeated it once more with a little more seriousness.

The signature on that ugly pink shoe was the name I hated the most in the world- mine. 

HOW TREVOR WAS EATEN

by Greta Vrabcová

There is a Sprinkles cupcake machine which gets you a cupcake by your choice any time of the day. All you have to do is to touch the icon on the screen and choose the flavour you want. This is a story about Trevor, who’s icon wasn’t uploaded properly.

It was July 1st. One of the warm nights, so common for Washington D.C at this time of the year, and a group of hungry friends was going home after a party they all enjoyed very much. They stopped as soon as the corners of their eyes noticed the neon lights saying Cupcake ATM.

The machine was brand new and all the cupcakes were excitedly waiting behind the screen in the specialized cupcake space to get picked. They all went through the tiring photoshoots and were now only waiting for the moment somebody touches their icon on the screen, takes them out and eats them. Trevor was no different. He was made of the best combination of cream and dough and none of the other cupcakes could doubt he tasted the best.  All smiley, Trevor was listening to the steps of the group getting close.

Suddenly he heard the coins falling into the machine followed by a girly voice: ‘‘Which one should I go for?‘‘ Trevor shook in excitement, this was his moment.

‘‘How many are there?‘‘ he heard a young guy saying.

The girl started counting ‘’28, 29...and then, um, this one is probably not there or old because its icon is not uploaded, it says...‘‘

Trevor got worried. He was the 30th icon. The girl tapped on Eric – a strawberry-filled chocolate cupcake that tasted nothing special, and stepped aside from the ATM. Trevor tried not to lose his mind, there was still plenty of time until midnight when the cupcakes are considered old and thrown away...but neither of the next customers chose him.

He got desperate. What if everybody will be picking icons with perfect quality pictures and none of them will risk tapping on the unknown one? Nobody even glimpsed on Trevor’s icon for hours and hours and as the midnight was closer and closer, he was in his box quietly crying while others got replaced by new ones.

When suddenly there appeared a couple at 11.53 PM. Two people, newly in love. Young and happy. Holding hands they stepped at the ATM.

Trevor was no longer hopeful. He knew his time's about to come and that he will soon be thrown away into the garbage can.

‘‘So which one are you getting, Sally?‘‘ said the guy and put his money inside.

‘‘Oh, I only have cash for one, looks we‘ll have to share it.‘‘ he said smiling cheekily. ‘‘I’ll pick it!‘‘ said Sally with excitement in her eyes, from both, the cupcake and the love she was feeling.

Trevor looked down. Reconciled with his fate, he felt one more of his tiny tears fall on the bottom of the paper box.

Sally swiped through all of the pages and still could not decide, then something cought her eye. “What's wrong with this one?”

It was 11.55 PM now. Trevor perked up anyway. Was he finally going to be saved?

“The icon is missing. There's nothing” said Rob and Sally looked him right in the eye.

‘‘Babe, you are not gonna press that icon, are you?‘‘ he smiled desperately.

He loved how messed up she was. Whenever there was a risk, she would take it and was never scared of what will it bring, she loved the unexpected. Sally kissed him on the cheek and pressed Trevor’s icon with her soft finger. Rob sighed, expecting nothing will happen, except for his 5 dollars dissapearing to the depths of the machine. Suddenly, there was a noise and a little pink door opened. Trevor was there, the happiest he ever was. Sally smiled widely. Opened the box and together they ate the best tasting cupcake the whole world has ever seen.

You only have one life, don’t stand back and don’t get stuck living the stereotypes. Take as many risks as possible, they can end up being the best choices you will ever make.

THE DAY MY FINGER ALMOST DIED

by Isabella Smith

One day, I was sitting in a classroom. It was school, fourth hour- arts. Now i know, it shouldn't be dangerous, but I tend to make things dangerous for me. So anyway as the bell hit our ears, I took out all tools that were necessary, for the hour. I dunno water paint, paper, scissors, glue, pencils, color pencils and stuff like that. So i take the paper, color it out, take the other paper and the glue to glue the two papers to each other. But the glue lid got stuck. I needed that glue. Now i think, Bella you idiot, why couldn't you just borrow it from someone else, but my mind wasn't able to make that decision at the time… So i took the scissors and tried to open it with force. Suddenly my vision faded to black and white, i think, and the only color I saw was red, splashing all over my table, clothes and my poor unglued drawing. So i casually get up, holding my finger tight and walk over to a person standing closest to me. I whisper, My finger is bleeding really bad. And as soon as I said that I realized, that it is actually happening. My sight that was renewed with a new ,,pic,, from the brain every three seconds now fully functioned. I started panicking and wobbled around till I got to the sink. I must of looked ridiculous, lol. Still didn't feel any pain and was still kind of out of it, as I watch the red stream roam thru the flesh, ripping it even more away from the bone, than it already was. I was emberaced. The teacher was comforting me, which felt even weirder that the whole thing and the children, actually, I’m pretty sure they just got back to their seats and just ignored me. Accept the girls sitting next to me, my sister, my best friend and a couple more people. I leaned on the sink, filling it with blood, I started feeling nauseas. As more blood rolled in, I told myself that if I wash it away it won't be there. So i pouring water on the blood and when I saw it didn’t work, my anxiety rises and I think I threw up. Well I washed it away and got a napkin, put it on my wound and sat down. I gained cautiousness as the pain started pulsing in my thom. My teacher asked me if I want to go home, but my laziness overpowered my weakness. So I said no and left. I was camouflaged with the walls a couple more hours, but eventually I got some color.
I hoped that there wouldn't be a scar on that finger, but when I look at it now, I visualize a fun (though painful) experience.