Volume 2, Issue 1: Change and Evolution

The Cardinal Review
Literary Magazine Vol. 2, No. 1
Change
& Evolution

Contents
Cover photos by Kate MacArthur
Note from the club leaders 1
Grown-up - Anonymous
Photography - Katie Drais
2
Cannibal (e)X - Amira Szambelan 3-5
Waves! (Photography) - Katie Drais 6-7
Easy Coming - Anonymous
Photography - Kate MacArthur
Ai yá (A recreation of Alice Walker’s “Everyday Use”) -
June Danenhower
Photography Inspired by Robert Mapplethorpe - Aliyah
Goldberg
8-9
10-12
13-15
Moonlight 2156 - Ella Jeffries 16
What If - Anonymous 17-18
Photography - Kate MacArthur 19-22
Foggy - Anjali Mignone 23-28
Ducks - Zola Morris 29
Our Team 30

Note from the club leaders:
On behalf of the Literary Magazine Club, we hope you enjoy this
collection of student writing and photography. We want to thank
everyone who put themselves out there by submitting their work and
applaud them on their new status as published artists! The theme of
this issue is Change and Evolution. Our lives are constantly changing,
and in the current state of the world, we can’t predict when life will
throw another curveball. Therefore, we are so pleased to provide a
space for students to share their feelings, both about this challenging
time and anything else they wish to express. If you are inspired by the
work in this magazine, please submit your own work for the next
issue. Thank you for reading and enjoy!
- Ella Jeffries and Zola Morris
1

Grown-up
By Anonymous
I reach to the top shelf for the jar of cookies
They are not shaped like the animals on Noah's Ark
Some may call me ignorant
Now that I have moved on
My attitude may be cruel at times
It's an act
Somewhere deep down, I still believe in the dinosaurs
Dragons breathe blazing fire, fairies fly in the forest, mermaids’ magic
sirens
I close my eyes and imagine I am making sandcastles ashore
Adulthood has not hit me
Photo by Katie Drais
2

Cannibal (e)X
By Amira Szambelan
It all started back in sophomore year; Sabrina, and her best
friend Vanessa, walked in through the door to school. They thought it
would be just like every other first day of school, but little did they
know that it would change their lives forever.
“What classes do you have?” Sabrina asked.
Vanessa replied, sounding more tired than usual: “Spanish,
math, history, then dance, science, my free block, then English.”
Sabrina looked at her; even though she was wearing makeup and did
her hair, and had new back to school clothes on, she still looked
miserable and tired - which wasn’t unusual for her. Sabrina ignored it.
She thought that Vanessa didn’t get enough sleep that night like most
other nights, so she wasn’t worried about it.
“Damn, I only have math and dance with you,” Sabrina said
angrily.
“Well, at least we have some classes together,” replied Vanessa,
trying to be optimistic. Sabrina could see through her; she knew that
her friend was putting on a face for her. “Hey, Sabrina,” Vanessa said
as she lightly pointed to a stranger.
“Yeah?” Sabrina was confused. She looked over to see a tall,
broad-shouldered, soft-eyed boy staring at her. He was roughly 6’4
with gorgeous dark brown hair and hazel eyes. The boy was wearing a
black hoodie under a light blue denim jacket with jeans and a pair of
sneakers. As soon as he saw her look back at him, he looked away,
flustered. She looked at him talking to the front desk lady awkwardly,
and leaning over the desk. You could tell that he wanted to go over to
Sabrina by the way he continued to look back at her. Sabrina had no
3

words. All she could think was, “Wow, I can’t believe this…I mean, a
hot guy is looking at me.”
Vanessa rolled her eyes and walked away as soon as she saw him
finish talking to the front desk lady. He turned around to see Sabrina
standing there, her long blonde hair curled to perfection, a light pink
shirt that clung to her skin, ripped jeans that you couldn’t tell if it was
on purpose or accident, and that face. When he looked at her face, he
just melted. It was soft but sharp, sweet, and calm, always smiling
both with her eyes and her lips.
As Vanessa left, the new kid started walking towards Sabrina
while trying to act cool, even though he was sweating like a pig and
walking oh so awkwardly. When he finally reached her, they were
both nervous.
“Hey,” he said, shaking.
“Hi, you’re new, right?” She sounded both excited and curious,
“It's just I’ve never seen you around; what’s your name?” She asked,
bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“Oh, umm…” He was so nervous he had to think. “My name is
Jayden,” He said it so calmly that it settled both their nerves.
“Oh, that’s a lovely name. Mine's Sabrina,” she said as she looked
deep into his dark brown eyes. She couldn’t believe it. She was
absolutely head over heels for Jayden, yet she barely knew him. She
was spacing out just by staring at him till she was brought back to
reality when the bell rang. “I need to go to Spanish!” She said with a
panicked tone.
The next few classes passed by in a flash, and suddenly it was
Science class. Sabrina walked in, looking at her new classmates. She
sat down at a desk near the back. She was sitting there in the white
4

room with all the other students, who were just as annoyed as she was
that school started. The teacher started taking attendance, but they
were interrupted by a student barging in.
“You’re late. I’m guessing you are Mr. Miller?” The teacher said
angrily.
“I know,” he said calmly, as if he didn’t care.
“Do you have a reason to be so late?” It seemed like the teacher
was interrogating him.
“Um yeah,” he said with a short pause, “I didn’t want to be here,”
he said with a straight face. The teacher smoothed her skirt with an
exasperated sigh. The students snickered when she didn’t say
anything. Jayden, while looking for an unoccupied desk, made eye
contact with Sabrina then quickly looked away. He walked to the only
available desk next to Sabrina and sat down.
Half-way through the class, she passed him a note; it read, “Hey
that was hilarious, dude” He responded with the backside of the
original note “haha thanks, hey so do you like have a bf or wut?” He
was so nervous about passing it back, but he gathered all his courage
to meet her halfway. Sabrina tore off another piece of paper. Jayden
watched her as she wrote: she dotted her ‘i’s with a heart and how
perfect her handwriting was. She passed him a note which read, “nah
I’m single af, hbu?” He didn’t know how to respond, so he just wrote,
“single too.”
The teacher wrapped up, and the bell rang. As Sabrina was
walking away, Jayden caught up to her.
“Umm, so hey. I was wondering if, like, you would want to be
friends? I don’t really know anyone here.”
“Uh, sure!” She first sounded worried, but...
5

Waves!
By Katie Drais
6

7

Easy Coming
By Anonymous
Easy Coming
Easy going
Memories of a broken past
Begin to flash.
Nothing more exciting than cash,
But happiness can't be bought
That's what I was taught
Step back!
These hands of stone cannot be fought
They must’ve forgot
I’m a black man in a white man’s world
It doesn't take much for me to get shot
Why do you hate me!
Cause you’re bound to take my spot
Work hard and you can go far
Is what I was told
But this world is so cold
And a black man can't own a fur coat
The only way they see us,
Is if we get killed in front of a bus
And yea I got aAnger
But an angry black man
Is a danger
It's time to flip the script
And unite cCause we all have power
8

That can't be missed.
Knowledge is power,
Imagine if black people had power
Would the white man cower?
Or would it be beautiful?
Like sunday flowers.
Photo by Kate MacArthur
9

Ai Yá (A recreation of Alice Walker’s
“Everyday Use”)
By June Danenhower
Wàipó delicately took apart the fish with chopsticks, stripping it clean
to the bone. Every last bit. She put the fish meat on a plate and
handed me an oversized bowl of niú ròu miàn. The whole boiled
chicken was in the pot, the chicken feet on the side of the counter,
ready to be made into chicken broth. Amy—my older sister—was
coming home from medical school to visit us. Instead of buying a ring
or expensive pearls as a graduation present, Wàipó made food. It was
cheaper. I knew Amy wanted something, though.
As I was enjoying my food, I heard a knock on the door; it was Amy. I
opened it and looked up at my older sister, she was almost 24 now.
She was wearing some sort of weird jade necklace, some Chinese
character that I knew she didn’t understand. She was wearing a
robe-looking dress with some dragon design and koi fish. I looked
sideways, squinted a bit confused on what she was wearing. Me and
Wàipó wore a vest North Face from Ross and second hand Nike shoes
from GoodWill. What was this? Since when did she dress so fancy? I
shrugged it off. I hugged her.
“Amy! We missed you!” I said in English.
“I missed you too, Jenny,”
Wàipó immediately walked up to her and handed her cut up fruit,
“Take your shoes off,”
She did, smiled, and walked into the dining room. We sat down and
were given food, more and more. Amy picked up her chopsticks
10

and started eating the fish, trying to pick up the noodles. It was lousy,
she ate slowly and quietly. When she finished there was at least half of
it still left. Wàipó saw and made a remark in Chinese, “Ai yá!”
Amy was confused. She didn’t know any Chinese, but she decided to
start a conversation.
“I decided to form a Chinese affinity group at campus! More than 10
people have already joined. I was wondering if Wàipó wanted to speak
at one of our meetings; she could maybe tell us about her immigration
to America,” she said.
“What’s that?” Wàipó said.
“A group of people who identify as Chinese as well, we come to talk
about our experiences as Chinese people, and a place where we can
express our racial identities.”
We looked at her confused. Wàipó shook her head, “No, how are you
doing with school? Top of your classes?”
“Yes,” she said angrily, “but this group is really something.”
“Why make a Chinese group?” I said, “You can’t even speak Chinese?
You’re lousy at Majang” I wasn’t trying to be mean - just jesting. Why
is it so important to be Chinese anyways? She’s born here, like me;
ABC. She rolled her eyes at me and stood up.
“I’m more Chinese than both of you. Don’t you think you should have
pride in your heritage? You’re Asian, embrace it. You two get walked
on. Don’t you see how wrong it is that they call you Chinks? You live
in the suburbs of South Carolina.
11

You need more people like you around. You wear North Face and
shop at Costco. You aren’t Asian at all, you’re white. I may not speak
Chinese but I embrace who I am. You know nothing about what it
means to be Chinese. Get out of this small town and stop working at
that restaurant. Come to San Francisco with me.”
The ranting stopped. It hurt me when she said that. Maybe I wasn’t
really Chinese; I was just some white washed girl living in a small
town, but Wàipó didn’t seem to care. She smiled a little bit when she
heard Amy was at the top of her classes. I knew she was happy but she
did her best to keep it in. “Sit, eat more, you look skinny.”
She tried to eat the most she could, but she didn’t finish much. She
looked at the painting that Wàipó had made. Watercolor cherry
blossoms and mountains, some calligraphy at the bottom. “This is
beautiful, Wàipó. Would you mind letting me take it to show the
group?”
“Yes,” she said.
Amy seemed a bit surprised that she didn’t mind. The calligraphy said
‘The cherry tree blossom follows the snail’s shadow’. She had no idea
what the calligraphy even said but she took it and left.
I smiled and looked at Wàipó, “White girl.”
She laughed, “Sit, finish her food, I don’t want to waste it. You look
skinny.”
I sat down. I ate it. She was bad at getting all the beef off the bone.
I’m Chinese enough.
12

Photography Inspired by Robert
Mapplethorpe
By Aliyah Goldberg
I created these images inspired by Robert Mapplethorpe for an
advanced photography project where students choose a photographer
who inspires you. I chose Robert Mapplethorpe because I like the way
he shows the image of raw youth in his photos. Mapplethorpe shows
nudity and the human body by using hard studio lighting. I chose two
models, a young woman and a young man. My goal was to express
youth as a contrast- soft and innocent, yet in a harsh way similar to
Mapplethorpe's work. I think that it's important to destigmatize the
human body because the human body isn't always sexual, your gaze
is. Mapplethorpe’s images break down barriers between nudity and
self expression/art.
13

14

15

Moonlight 2156
By Ella Jeffries
Scan a world
Of grey plumes of smoke
And billowing columns of dust
The moon casting a pale light over the rooftops
Draping the neglected world in shadow
The streets covered with a darkness like smooth tar
Uninterrupted by the broken streetlights of an old, rickety town
All enveloped in a frigid silence
Only broken by the slashing wind
Like a dark wire
Coiling around the planet in suffocating bounds
The last traces of light fading
As the world sucks in its closing breath
A gasp, the final whisper into the night
And then it’s done.
All lies in shadow now
Lurking in the corners
Of an ebony abyss
Scurrying through shards of glass
That glint in the evanescent moonlight
For nothing remains in this aphotic world
Save the shattered notion of life.
16

One student, White
Goes to a private school
Has both of his parents, stability
Wifi, and teachers who care
What If
By Anonymous
Another student, Black
Goes to a public school
Has one parent, overdue bills
Teachers focused on teaching the curriculum and not kids
If you can't understand it, don’t try.
You're black,
So do what is easiest for you,
But never let them see you
Break.
Never ask for help
Because it makes you look
Weak.
Everything you do, has to lead to
Somewhere.
17

One school, private
Predominately white
No more than 15 kids per class
Office hours for the students
Study skills where kids can get help on their work
No student fails
Another school, Public
Predominantly people of color
No more than 30 kids in each class
Kids must learn on their own, and fail on their own
Public school fails students,
Particularly students of color
Schools are free
Books and computers are used
What if All schools had new computers,
Smaller class sizes
And one on ones with the teachers?
What if you gave people of color
The same things that private schools have?
What if they had the same opportunities?
What if all teachers believed in them?
It's always what if with schools,
But never what can we do
18

Photography
By Kate MacArthur
19

20

21

22

Foggy
By Anjali Mignone
My alarm goes off at 4 am. It’s gonna be a long drive.
I snatch up the glasses off of my bedside table. Glinting gold in the
moonlight, I push them further up on my nose, the world coming in
and out of focus. The glasses are foggy, and I can’t see. It’s the first
time I’m seeing my brother since he left for college. I miss him so
much. Damn, it’s been what, a year and a half? Seems tough, being on
his own for so long, but nothing could knock him down. The guy was
built like a brick wall, and I’ve never seen him cry. One time I saw him
fall out of the oak tree that graced the sky in the backyard of our
childhood home, and he got up, brushed off his bloody torn-up knees,
and simply said “That hurt”. I’m so weak on the other hand. I cried
the first day I left home. I took one look at the boxes in my empty
dorm and broke down. I’ve been getting better though, not being such
a sensitive bitch. I’m sick and tired of people calling me ‘poor little
thing’ or patting me down when I had those awful breakdowns. I don’t
need their sympathy. Anyways, I wanna be just like him, strong,
independent, a face of stone.
I creak the door open, trying not to wake up my roommates. As
soon as I’ve cleared their range, I crash down the hallways, racing
down the stairs. The only thing I have on me is a thick winter jacket,
the clothes I had laid out the night before, and the glasses. I almost
break my ankles turning out the door to see the bright lights of my
childhood friend Eli’s old corolla. Well, it was actually his father’s, but
damn, we went places in that thing.
I remember one summer, me, Eli, and Olly (that’s what we call
him, my brother. His real name is Oliver, but he hated it, saying he
23

Fogsounded like an 1800s British boy asking for a spare loaf of
bread), we went on this long-ass road trip all across Washington state,
stopping at national parks, going on hikes through chilling mountains
that seemed to break the atmosphere, camping out beside the car,
looking up at the stars and counting constellations. One time, this
raccoon burrowed into the car, nesting in the glove box and eating
almonds that fell out of the trail mix. Olly had brought dad’s shotgun.
He had this irrational fear that someone would sneak up on him and
stab him in the back. I thought it was stupid; it’s not like he’s Caesar
or sumthin’. Although, I think now I realize his point. Anyways, Olly
offered to shoot the poor bastard. Me, being the stupid pacifist I was,
said I couldn’t bear to see the little creature suffer. We argued for
hours about what we would do with the thing. Olly wanting revenge
on it, and I thought that saving it would be the ‘moral’ thing. When we
weren't looking, Eli had taken it by the scruff of its neck, screaming
and fussing, and disappeared into the woods. To this day, only Eli
knows what happened to it. Eli is like that, always solving quarrels.
He says it’s ‘cause we’re annoyed when we fight. He hates seeing
people fight. Reminds him of his parents. He always tries to stop it
before it goes South.
I dash through the drizzling rain and he rolls down the window,
I’m instantly greeted with a blast of tobacco. That car always reeked of
cigarettes, and mostly ‘cause Eli’s dad was a heavy smoker, not to
mention drinker. I hope that Eli doesn’t pick up that habit. I doubt it,
he’s not like that.
I slam the car door behind me and look to my left, Eli's naturally
amiable face seems distraught. A little worried. “You ready for
today?” he whispers.
24

Foggy, “Yeah, course,” I said, situating myself in the car, adjusting the
glasses that have slid down my nose. Eli looks at me, his eyebrows
scrunched together, glancing at me quizzically before checking his
mirror and pulling out into the road. His left eye is a mess, bruised
and blackened, all squinted and sad. Like the ones he would get as a
kid, but his dad was right-handed, plus he moved out a couple of
months ago, so it was something else. “‘Sup with your eye?” I ask, in a
bored tone. I don’t want to push him too much, and I really don’t
want to bring up something unpleasant right now, it’s supposed to be
a happy occasion, no? He lightly rests his fingers on his eye for a split
second, like he forgot it was there.
“It’s noth-” I glare at him; I mean, we’ve been neighbors our
whole lives. We would tell each other everything, and I could read his
face like it was a bob book. “I tried to… I got into a fight.”
“Pfffff,” I laugh out loud, I mean, how could I not? Eli ends fights,
he doesn’t start them. Eli rolls his eyes and explains,
“I tried to get in between these two guys, punching and kicking
each other, somethin’ ‘bout a bottle of bourbon. I pushed one of ‘em
back and got socked in the eye.” I smile and snicker. What an Eli
move. Although he was foolish sometimes, he was so sweet. No one
could get mad at him, and he never did anything to hurt anyone.
He was like my brother in that way, ‘cept you’d get furious with
Olly, but never for long. He’d say the most profound thing, so
incredibly offensive you’d be shocked that something would come
from such a goofy light-hearted soul. He would laugh it off and you’d
stand there, confused and alarmed, and slowly turn into anger
because how could you let it slide? You’d yell, or scorn, or stay
completely silent, until the moment he would poke at you with a
25

stupid joke and you’d laugh. He’d take that as forgiveness,
erasing actions. It pissed me off so damn much but honestly, I missed
it. I’m so ready to be with him again; he’s been gone for too long.
Eli turns on the window wipers, the water droplets slathering
across the windshield, making the view of the road ahead hazy. We’re
getting close and I’m shivering. I smile, propping the glasses that
continually fall down my nose back up to my eyes, the lenses still a
little foggy, but I ignore it because it’s a minor problem. It can’t be
more important than today. I trace a little carving on that dashboard,
a small, crude bird. I remember that Olly would sit here, playing with
the little pocket knife I bought one of the national park gift stores.
He always has this grand idea that everyone around him is trying
to contain him, trying to shoot him down at any moment, taking his
freedom. Eli and I made fun of him for it, wondering why anyone
would care that much about a middle-class kid with no future. He
naturally brushed aside our comments. He felt as though he would
have to fight to be something, to break the societal chains that bound
him, that this land of freedom was taking liberty from its citizens. And
he was right of course, but he thought it was so serious and important,
it was kinda funny.
I think that’s why he tried to join the Air Force. He wanted to be
free, to fly above the confinements of the system like a bird. Without
care, without barriers. Too bad he can’t see too good. Guess it runs in
the family. He got put in the army, forgot to mention that. They
shipped him out to Afghanistan. Looking back on it, he was perfect for
the army. Big, strong, never scared.... or never showed it. Part of the
reason I guess I’m so ecstatic ‘bout this. He’s finally coming home.
Eli pulls into the parking lot. He doesn’t get out though. He leans
26

back in his seat, clenching his eyes shut. Out of the corner of my
eye, I see a tear roll down his cheek. I hold his hand as he wipes his
face with his other. “God I miss him”, he whispers, wincing as the
salty tears touch the open bits of flesh on his cheek.
“It’s ok”, I say, “we’ll see him soon enough.” He looks at me trying
to smile. He takes a deep shuddering breath in and unbuckles himself.
We step out of the car. It’s especially windy tonight, and I struggle to
keep the glasses from falling off my face. Eli grabs something from the
trunk, and we head out.
It’s a bit of a walk. We pass the shambles of a little shack we
made when we were young. As kids, Eli, Olly, and I would take a bus
out here. Olly had Eli go collect big logs, and I would get smaller
twigs. We had no idea what was happening at the time, but Olly had a
plan. He pushed the logs against a tree, making a lean-to. With the
small sticks, he made a little heap, packed with dry grass and wood
chips. After weeks of collecting, Olly told us to bring blankets and
snacks. He had already arranged for us to go to Eli’s house and for
him to come to ours. Once we convinced our parents to let us go and
we stowed away on a bus, it was past sunset. We found the little heap
of wood, and Olly lit a fire. We ate chips and told stories as the moon
rose over our heads, thousands of stars glittering above us on that
clear night. Once the fire sputtered out, we slept in the heaps of
blankets we brought. The next morning, Olly told us this is where he
wanted to be, far away from the city, no one for miles, no restraints
other than the natural laws. Eli and I scoffed; that wasn’t gonna
happen. Not where we’re at now, us, our family, the world. But I know
that he’ll get that someday, he’ll be free.
Eli and I stand at the shore, the foam of the water lapping at our
27

feet. The sun is rising, but we can’t see it past the gray clouds
floating just above the water. My heart is racing; I get to see him
again, it's been so long. But the glasses are too cloudy, and they keep
sliding down my face. I pull them off, realizing that the gold-tinted
glasses were his. I swung my head to see Eli pulling out the thing he
snatched from the car. He held it with two hands, a jar. A fucking
container. Even though I’m not wearing the glasses, everything is still
fuzzy. It’s okay though, I’ll see him. Eli offers it to me, but I’m
standing there like an oaf, shivering, biting my lip, smiling stupidly. I
try not to cry; I wouldn’t want to disappoint him the first time I see
him.
He turns towards the ocean, staring into the melted line between
the water and the sky. He twists the cap of the jar, it opens with a
satisfying pop, and pours it into the ocean. The wind takes the
particles from the bottom of the jar. Gray dust spills into the air, and
it floats freely out into the world. I see him disappear. I see him.
I look down at the glasses, the thing that kept him from freedom.
I chuck them to the horizon, watching the splash of the water sprinkle
onto the lenses as it sinks under the surface, getting almost as watery
as my eyes.
Damn things were blurry anyway.
28

ducks
By Zola Morris
crystalline wind blows across the glassy pond, seemingly the only
movement of the unaware in this fog-swept scene
a duck bobs to the surface and nibbles at her wing before she dips her
proud beak back into the water, plunging her body into its icy depths
once again. she re-emerges moments later next to her mate
and I wonder, yet again, will she fly to me? will she wrap me in her
great wings and cradle my shattered soul?
as I watch from everywhere, the girl with a thousand views,
a wolf winds her way across the rich carpet of moss and dirt, through
the thick pillars of bark, headed for the pond
and then my view is limited, and I can only watch from the other half
of the pond. she is out of my sight
and I wonder, do the ducks lie dead on the other side of the mist?
29

Our Team
Club Leaders:
- Ella Jeffries (11) and Zola Morris (11)
Club Faculty Advisor:
- Kevin Kimura
Club Members:
- Grace Hopperstad (9)
- Haedyn Darling-Hill (9)
- Rory Leonard (9)
- Alexander Kramer (10)
- Calvin Lundin (10)
- Diana Maciel (10)
- Eli Ortiz (10)
- Anika Sood (11)
- Annabelle Burg (11)
- Lex Capestany (11)
- Arundati Iyer (11)
- Ally Pfau (11)
- Halle Janssen (12)
- Kate MacArthur (12)
The theme of the next issue of The Cardinal Review will be
Identity. If you would like to submit your work, please do so to this
submission form:
https://forms.gle/AVzztJWogJptKAmj9
30