Innholdsfortegnelse for September 2018 i Cricket Magazine Fiction and Non-Fiction Stories for Children and Young Teens

I MAY BE a girl, but I’m not a wimp. I’m eleven, and by the time we moved to Arizona from Texas I’d been exploring on my horse with my dogs following along for four years. I collected tadpoles, frogs, horny toads, minnows, orphaned rabbits, injured birds, and whatever else I ran across. If it was alive and I could catch it, I brought it home to watch and take care of. I was riding with a friend one day when we found a possum asleep on the ground. I picked it up and carried it dangling by its tail all the way back to my house. My dad freaked out, but how was I supposed to know possums have fifty teeth and very unpleasant personalities? Since then I try…

ANNA SQUINTED UP at the stern clouds in the October sky. A sharp breeze skimmed across the field, whispering a threat of winter through the dried grasses. She shivered. With an ugly twist of fear inside, Anna remembered the tense words of their teacher just before they’d been dismissed early from school. “All of you go straight home,” said Miss Jacobs. “Don’t go anywhere else. This flu is dreadfully contagious. Watch the newspapers to learn when school will be back in session.” Anna’s older sister, Ellen, walked beside her on the narrow path. “It’s going to rain, Anna,” she said. “I can feel it.” “Beeeeep!” yelled nine-year-old Peggie. She was trying—unsuccessfully—to imitate the blaring horns of the Model T Fords that sometimes chugged past their house. Ellen grabbed Anna’s arm…

Dear Everybuggy, I know. I know. I know. You’ve heard this a gillion times, but I LOVE YOUR MAG! Ladybug, Muffin, Pussywillow, and Old Cricket, try some activities. Old Cricket, join a book club. Ladybug and Muffin, try acting. Pussywillow, get together with other cats. I like the story “Two of Me” in the February 2018 issue. It made me think about my friend whose parents are divorced. I live in a small city outside of Atlanta. We don’t get that much snow. When we do, every kid in the neighborhood goes to a church. We all sled down a hill. I am the oldest of three. My siblings are the loudest, toughest, most annoying kids. They are always fighting, and then one of them is crying. Keep dreamin’, everybuggy!…

Twelve-year-old Nami longs to become an ama like her grandmother, Ba-ba, and Ba-ba’s friend Mrs. Waki, who dive for shellfish off the coast of their small Japanese island. But Nami’s mother, who once lost a dear friend to the sea, will not allow Nami to follow in this centuries-old tradition. To prove that she can be a good diver, Nami decides to train in secret for the annual ama contest. Nami convinces her new friend Genji to take her out on his boat and to watch her little brother, Hiro, while she practices diving. But when Hiro, who can’t swim, is mistakenly thought to have had an accident on the water, the ama’s catch is disrupted, and Nami’s mother finds out where they have been. Mama forbids Nami to leave…

GRETCHEN LAY STIFF with fear under the bed with her mother, watching muddy army boots pace through the room. Now and then one of the men would say something she couldn’t understand, and she would hear a clink as an object was dropped into a burlap bag. Were the soldiers looking for them? She wished she knew Russian. Just then the coverlet hanging down to the floor jerked up, and a bearded face stared at her, eyes wild with glee. She yelped and then bolted upright, safe in her own bed—awakened from a nightmare. “Another dream?” Her brother Karl’s soft voice came from behind a curtain that divided the apartment’s one bedroom. Gretchen took a deep breath. “Yes,” she whispered. “Sorry I woke you. You’d think after three years the…

CYNTHIA PEDERSON WROTE to tell me how children in colonial America got a handle on reading—literally. They learned their ABCs from a hornbook: a lesson sheet pasted to a wooden paddle just the right size for small hands to clutch. The lesson sheets were protected from grubby fingers by a thin transparent layer of horn—taken from soaked oxen or sheep horn, then boiled and flattened—giving the hornbooks their name. First used in Great Britain, hornbooks were brought to America by the Pilgrims and other English settlers. The first line of the hornbook alphabet was usually preceded by a cross to remind children to praise God and make him a part of all tasks. This row was referred to as Christ’s Cross Row, later shortened to crisscross row. Following the alphabet…

FOUND: ONE ALICORN, or unicorn’s horn. Toby stopped typing, frowned, and sighed. Did unicorns even go online? Typing with hooves sounded tricky, but maybe they’d have a friend who might see the ad. She had to do something. The alicorn in her pocket warmed with appreciation. It had done that a lot since Toby found it a day ago. She couldn’t find anything about lost unicorns on the Internet, and the library’s tiny selection of unicorn books did little to help. All of them lay on the table before her and said nothing of missing horns. Toby glanced across the library and locked eyes with a gnarled old woman in strange, dark clothing. The woman got up and walked toward her. Toby looked away, feeling awkward, and pretended…

“Feather would never have gone to the mall, except for the doughnuts.” KOKOPELLI AND COMPANY IN ATTACK OF THE SMART PIES by Larry Gonick submitted by Lucille S. of PA “At 3:23 a.m., the hospital calls to say a heart’s been found.” IN DARKLING WOOD by Emma Carroll submitted by Cate McDonald of Canterbury, NH “Thor was SERIOUSLY annoyed.” HOW TO BE A PIRATE (How to Train Your Dragon, Book 2) by Cressida Cowell submitted by Julia Rasmussen of Ironton, MN “Matt stood at the edge of the clearing for some time after his father had gone out of sight among the trees.” THE SIGN OF THE BEAVER by Elizabeth George Speare submitted by Angeline Weaver of Mifflinburg, PA “Hurricane Katrina was ripping apart New Orleans,…

WINNERS APRIL 2018 STORY CONTEST The Power of Music First prize 10 and under Margaret Law, age 8 Cobleskill, NY “Morgan, play Moonlight Sonata again.” Mr. Burrows never bothered with words like “please” that made his speech sound softer. No, Mr. Burrows always told me clearly what to do. I obey him, though usually I want to disobey him until he kicks me out of his piano lessons. But then I would feel bad because Mom spent a lot of money on these piano lessons, so I kept going with Mr. Burrows, even though he made me want to cry sometimes. Moonlight Sonata was one of my favorite pieces, so I keep on perfecting it, even though it sometimes got a little boring and I could tell Mr. Burrows was…