Many students enter the various categories in the Scholastic Art and Writing competition and one of the winners is a Powell High School Student.

Senior Samantha Becker was happy to hear that she had won the fiction short story section with her story, “Nostalgia”.

“I was pretty excited,” Becker said. “I liked that story, so I was glad they liked it too.”

Her story was written in her creative writing class last year and it fit into the fiction category very well.

“It’s about a mom that is reminiscing about high school and about all of her old friends and how she misses them,” Becker said.

Mrs. Madeleine VanEpps is the teacher that introduced Becker to the competition her freshman year, and was glad to hear the news.

“I was very excited for her,” Mrs.VanEpps said. “I was acquainted with her and her ability to write and writing style.”

Becker entered the competition three times and always entered it on her own time.

“She had talked over some of her story ideas with me,” Mrs.VanEpps said. “She is a very excellent writer and she does very well on her own.”

 

Sam Becker’s winning entry

Nostalgia has a funny way of finding you at the oddest times. She finds me sitting at my kitchen table. It’s so early the sun isn’t even awake yet, but sitting here in my nightgown staring at the postcard on the fridge and drinking a cup of tea is better than lying in bed staring at the ceiling, or the wall, or the other wall.

Venice, Italy. The white, bold, italicized letters cover the top half of a picture of the city. That postcard has been stuck to my fridge since graduation 15 years ago. My friends and I—

“You still think about us, huh?” A voice startles me. I look up to see two beautifully different faces smiling gently at me. Sarah Kent’s slender dancer-body leans in the kitchen doorway, the bangs of her black pixie cut dangling over her dark forehead. Kate Mason is standing next to her, crossing her pale arms over her chest. Her brown hair gently kisses her shoulders. They look the same as they did the last day of senior year. For a moment, all I can do is stare. When I find my words, they come out exasperatedly.

“How are you here?” I haven’t seen my best friends since graduation.

“Taxi.” Sarah jokes, winking. There’s no way she could have taxied here from London. My eyes shift curiously to Kate, who chuckles and points to my fridge.

“I still remember the day we bought those postcards.” Kate smiles. “It was a super sketchy gas station, but I really had to pee, so I made you stop the car—” Sarah takes over the story.

“And you begged us to go inside with you because you were scared. And we found one of those postcard racks, and we each picked a postcard and decided we would all go to that place together.”

“We wanted to fill up our passports.” I interject, remembering. The girls nod.

“I picked London, Kate picked Limerick,” Sarah turns her chocolate eyes to meet my icy ones. “And you picked Venice.” They both stare at me, waiting for a reply.

“Why didn’t we go on that trip?” My voice cracks and I stare down at my tea, blinking tears from my eyes. My friends take one look at each other and move to sit at the table across from me. Kate takes my hand away from my mug and looks sadly at me.

“Alice.” She says, stealing my attention away from my tea. “You need to let us go.” She squeezes my fingers and struggles to smile. “You can’t find new friends if you’re constantly focused on the old ones.”

“It’s just the way life goes.” Sarah was always the realist. “People leave, and we have to move on.” Sarah’s voice echoes throughout the room as I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing tears onto the tabletop. When I finally open my eyes, I’m alone. My breathing quickens as I glance frantically around the room, but arms wrap around me from behind accompanied by a new voice, calming my racing heart.

“Hello, my dear.” Her sweet voice tickles my ear and I smile.

“Blake Riddle.” Her wind-chime laugh reverberates off the walls and makes me laugh too. “I’ve missed you.” She swings into the chair next to me and sits, her long brown hair floating around her. She glances at the fridge I had been so fixated on only moments before.

“Those pictures, they’re of you and your family?” She pointed at a cluster of pictures of me with my husband and sons.

“Yeah, Ben and I, with Henry, Ollie, and Elliot.” She smiles at the pictures.

“Well, they sure are adorable. And I can see where they get it from.” She raises her eyebrows at me, smiling. “Ben’s cute.”

“I know. I got a good one.” We giggle, and I’m thrust back into high school, sitting at the lunch table, talking with my best friends about boys.

She doesn’t say anything for a minute, instead she just stares at me with those mint green eyes everyone always loved. She was my encouragement in high school. And when I lost my encouragement, I lost my optimism.

“Do you remember that night we all sat in the theater dressing room and just ranted about everything?” She smiles at the floor. I nod. “We talked about graduation a little, and how we didn’t want to leave each other.” Silence. I look at the floor; Blake looks at me.

“But then we did, Blake. We left each other. We all split up. You studied Theatre at the university, Sarah went to Casper, Kate went out of state, and I stayed at home. We didn’t even keep in touch.” Blake sighs, lifting my chin, and places her hand on my shoulder.

“Alice, you’re in living too much in the past. You have three little boys that need you. They lost one parent, don’t let them lose another.” I place my hand atop hers on my shoulder, but her hand is gone. This time, I stand up, practically hyperventilating.

“Blake?” I whisper, using all the air I’ll allow myself to waste. I whip my body back and forth, searching desperately for my encouragement, but Blake is nowhere to be found. I breathe deeply, steadying myself and my heart. I lean my forearms on the sink and lay my head on my arms.

“Wow, is that really Alice Bates?” A male voice chides. I turn around and look up. Peter Kent is making binoculars with his dark hands around his steel blue eyes. He always knew how to cheer me up. I laugh at the boy who’s practically my brother. “How long’s it been?” I think for a moment, and then answer.

“Since your wedding.” He nods. “It was beautiful.”

“I know.”

“I was gonna dance with you but… I didn’t.”

“I know.”

“How is she?” I ask.

“Marie? She’s good. Pregnant again.” He smiles, styling his brown hair with his hand, and his eyes sparkle like cider. “And the first one already has two teeth. He’s pretty proud of himself for that.” We chuckle together.

“I’m happy for you.” I smile back at him. He smiles at me but then bites his lip and looks at the floor.

“I’m sorry about Benjamin.”

“I know,” I breathe.

“And I’m sorry I didn’t make it to the funeral.”

“I know.” I stare down at my now cold tea. There’s a silence between us that speaks more than the words on our minds. I blink tears from my eyes and swallow the lump clogging my throat. He walks to me and hugs me gently. “Can’t you stay?” I hug him like I’m never letting go.

“You know that I can’t.” He squeezes me in his arms. He pulls away and kisses my forehead. “Keep in touch, miss Alice.”

“I miss you.” I whisper to an empty room, with tears falling down my cheeks. I wipe them from my face with both hands when I hear a yawn from the hallway.

“Mom?” Henry, my oldest, enters the kitchen.

“Hey, bud.” I pull him close and kiss his head.

“Who were you talking to?” He asks, looking around the room skeptically.

“No one buddy. Go back to sleep,” I nod toward his bedroom.

“I can’t.” He looks at the floor and I know how he feels.

“Ok, then, what’s on the menu for today?” I’ve been training him to cook so we have another option when I’m not available, on days when I have to work late.

“Let’s make it together.” He smiles up at me and I smile back. He looks so much like Ben.

“Alright.” I stand up to help him and leave Nostalgia at the kitchen table.