2004 - Mississippi School for Mathematics and Science

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HallowedTreesAcrylic/ChalkJeremy CrawfordDanceNight falls,Music danceAcross a bitter sky.Love gone,Faces lost,Coffee shared in days gone by.Time, work, world—dead.Emotion—free.Ink flowsAs blood,As tears.A night spent in remembrance,Bittersweet,Pain and Bliss,Candle-light,The song! The eyes!…the deep brown eyes…Wild childWild deep from inside,Wild childBeing forced to hide,Moon and starsThey cry your sweat;Don’t leave me now!Don’t go just yet!Silver beads of perspiration,Silent cries of desperation,LeakingLongingInto the night;DreamingDrawingon childish fright.Breaking barriers,Born to bleed,Sweet wild childUnconscious need.Don’t wake the babe!Don’t turn her sour!Let her danceJust one more hourThere in her worldOf broken skin,She’s in control,…just let her win…Jessica JenningsPoetryJeremy CrawfordThird Place, Poetry CompetitionThe call came at 3 a.m.,“Jeremy, I need a favor.”I wasn’t even fully awakeas I stumbled up three flights of stairs.“Jojo, wake up.”His groans weren’t unexpected.I handed him the phoneand curled up on his stomach.Then came the conversation,a heart-wrenching talk concerninglove, sex, drugs, life, the future—one that only happens at 3 a.m.And through tearful whispers,I lay there staring at the ceiling.Glow-in-the-dark stars hung from fishing line,flowing with the vent’s slow current.As I lay there barely consciousand took in everything around me,I looked at those stars and thought,“Now that’s poetry.”S V4 0
A TypicalMonday MorningMy mama has always been a little bitscatter-brained. Well, maybe scatter-brainedisn’t the right word... I love my mother;there’s nobody like her in the world. She isbrilliant and funny and good with my friendsand a health nut— everything anybody couldpossibly want in a mom. But she doesn’talways think... Perhaps that’s the best way ofputting it.I remember one particular morning in thefall of my freshman year of high school. I wasstressed out— I was stressed out a lot backthen. Anyway, I wasn’t at my best that morning...I’d been up late the night before, studyingfor some test, and I woke up late, too,probably at about 7:30. My first class, EnglishI, began at eight, and I barely had time towash my face and throw on my school uniformbefore my mother’s yells echoed throughthe hallway of our house— “Tim-o-thy! Addie!”Her voice always went up on the last syllablesof our names. My little brother was typicallyunresponsive; of course it never matteredif he was late. The elementary portion of ourlittle K-12 school had no punishment for tardiness;after all, how could they— it’s not likethe kids could drive. I’d only been introducedto tardies a few years before— in seventhgrade— and I’d discovered that I didn’t likedetention.“TIMOTHY!” I hollered. I threw my longbrown hair into a messy bun and stormedthrough the hall into my parents’ empty bedroomand into the closet that served as my littlebrother’s room. He was stretched out on hisbed, leisurely reading a book. I snatched it upfrom him, and ignored his irritated yell as Istole a glance at the title before placing it out ofhis reach. Captain Underpants and the Attack ofWedgie Woman. It figured.“We’re about to be late,” I hissed. “Areyou ready to go?” It would be his fault if wewere late— it was always his fault if we werelate. I flounced back out of his room and intomy own where I proceeded to jam my feetS V4 1Addie Leakinto my worn Doc Martens and pull myschool anorak over my head.Makeup, makeup, makeup... “Aaad-die!”Never mind. I grabbed my makeup case, tossedit into my backpack, and half-jogged to thekitchen, where my mother was standing withher purse already slung over her shoulder andher keys in hand. “You ready?”I gave her a pained look— “Almost,Mom— I just woke up.”“All right. You have five minutes. I’ll be inthe computer room.” She looked rather impatient,but I decided to overlook that. After all,she was my mother; wasn’t it her job to wakeme up if my alarm clock didn’t go off ontime?I grabbed an apple from our fruit basketand a half of a protein bar from the fridge,unscrewing the top of a bottle of water as Idid so and placing it under the tap. I was ona health kick then (Mom’s fault), and noteven a bad morning would allow me to skipbreakfast. As the bottle finished filling, Ireplaced the top and threw it into my backpackas well, taking a bite out of my appleand shoving the protein bar into a pocket.No time to fix lunch, but I’d already decidedthat if worse came to worse (and it appearedthat it had) I could always eat a salad in thecafeteria.I hurried toward the front door— “I’mready, Mom!” Then a thought struck me—actually, I wasn’t; I hadn’t printed out my essayfor Mississippi Studies. I sighed exasperatedlyand changed course, heading back to my roominstead and pulling up my three-page report onMississippi in the early twentieth century. Iclicked the print button and suddenly rememberedTimothy.I yelled his name again, and was absolutelyinfuriated to see, as I rounded the corner to hisroom, that he had pulled out yet another bookand was reading it. “Are you READY?”
Page 1 and 2: *I. :'adi *t aF e*e
Page 3 and 4: Table of ContentsEssaysJamie Ausbor
Page 5 and 6: Virgosby Ryan ScottHonorable Mentio
Page 7 and 8: “I want to be enough to make you
Page 9 and 10: Last NightAs You LaySleepingLast ni
Page 11 and 12: A Hard PathKendrell WellsAt a very
Page 13 and 14: The Past LivesPhotographHonorable M
Page 15 and 16: “maybe he didn’t get into the c
Page 17 and 18: BiorhythmicRepetitionIf I could see
Page 19 and 20: we’d be fine. The donut shop was
Page 21 and 22: Many teenagers with straight A’s
Page 23 and 24: DementedThoughtsAhhh!My mind scream
Page 25 and 26: RollingField #2AcrylicAndy GuanMela
Page 27 and 28: The only problem was that one girl
Page 29: eavers, and our obedience. He almos
Page 32 and 33: could handle. Dad wasn’t here to
Page 34 and 35: small personal catalog and began sc
Page 36 and 37: Laura gave her mom the eye as shepu
Page 38 and 39: RandomThoughtsof LifeWhen I grow up
Page 40 and 41: StainedGlassA star, its glory falli
Page 44 and 45: He looked up at me, all injured inn
Page 46 and 47: Who Ate the LastMe?PhotographHonora
Page 48 and 49: My Little TigerTom FengClutching a
Page 50 and 51: Contributors’ NotesJamie Ausborn
Page 52: Southern Voices is a magazine of cr

2004 - Mississippi School for Mathematics and Science

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