Hogwarts Daily News Issue #115
written by Jess Granger
In today's issue, read some short stories, learn about the smartest witches and wizards in Hogwarts, sort Disney princesses into houses and do some craft! Sorry for the late publishing! Published by Jess Granger.
Last Updated
05/31/21
Chapters
11
Reads
454
Where am I (Short Story)
Chapter 2
Chapter 1- Where am I?
__________________________________________________________________________
“Where am I?”
Is the question I ask as I stroll through New York city while pushing my sister’s wheelchair along the wet pavement. There is a difference between where I am and where I come from.
I come from fresh lemonade being sold on the streets of Philadelphia for 5 cents. I come from the tiny room in our apartment that has just enough space for me to call it home. I come from those lonely days when I’d know that I live in not such a grand or big or fancy place, but it’s perfect. If not- at least it’s good enough for me.
I have frizzy chocolate brown hair that curls all the way down to my shoulders, and a slim body. Where a smile was planted on my face, there is a frown. I wished that I didn’t feel so lost in New York. I wished that my father could keep his old job back in Philadelphia. I wished for a lot of things right now.
My sister, Angel has the same hair as mine, except for the fact that hers is straight, not curly. She has dark blue eyes. I have green. My mother looks like me, and my father looks completely different than the rest of us. He has navy blue eyes, which are darker than what my sister has. He has jet black hair and pale skin. I sometimes wonder if I will ever be able to look at that silent girl who is standing in the mirror and tell her that New York is the place for me. That girl’s name is Maya. That’s me.
I hear a faint whistle from the back alleyway but I ignore it like everyone else. Not everything catches my attention. Angel sighed as she laid her head on her elbow and crossed her legs. I can understand that having a broken ankle and having to sit in a wheelchair is hard. I glance at the street names and I spot a green sign swinging in the distance that reads, “Apartment rooms 1 to 320” I push my sister’s wheelchair to the side, towards the apartment building on Willow street.
My mother and father trail behind me. Too quiet. I walked through the apartment with marble flooring and tall shiny walls. It seems like a maze in here. I want to say, “Wow. I would have never lived in a place like this in Philadelphia.” But the name - Philadelphia - brings too many memories back. I blinked back tears as I regretted the minutes I spent in the car that was moving closer and closer to New York City. We entered our apartment room- the outside looks like a suite. The inside looks like the tiny car I had just come out of. I gazed out the window. I figured my sister would want to too. I pulled her wheelchair beside me, but it was only a matter of seconds before my father drew the blinds and the whole room turned dark. I plopped down onto the tiny mattress in the corner. I switched on a pale yellow lamp beside the “bed” and it flickered a bit.
The room was like a black hole. No light would escape it. Angel stretched her arms up into the air and yawned. I watched in pain because I knew that inside her mind she was also hoping that she could stretch her leg too- but some dreams don’t become reality. Like the dream of me staying in Philadelphia. As the sun sets, my parents tell me to take Angel outside since she can’t walk for herself. I spot a nearby lemonade stand, just like the ones outside our old apartment. I count my pocket money, and hand a few coins to the person serving lemonade. I take a sip. It tastes sweet, but the goodness only lasts for a second. It suddenly turns sour and burns my lips slightly. I don’t let Angel drink any- not the very person who’s opposed to sourness. I push her wheelchair and legs away from the stand. Bookstores, clothing stores, gaming stores and electronic stores stand in front of me, all merged into one big mall. The ceiling is twice as high as it is in our apartment. “Bookstore!” Angel exclaimed, she pointed towards the small, yet elegant bookstore. She waved her hands up and down like a kid in case I didn’t hear her the first time. I knew that if she could, she would kick too, just to grab my attention.
I loved the bookstore, but I didn’t get to see any books that I liked. Since my sister couldn’t walk around like I could, I had to push her towards wherever she wanted to go. I knew that in a month, when Angel’s broken ankle was no longer broken, I could come here again for myself.
Angel waved her arms again. I knew why. I quickly pushed her back to the apartment.
“Mother and father might be worried-” Angel started. I didn’t get to hear the rest of it. As we walked in, I headed straight to the elevator. There was a woman there, and her attention drew straight to Angel’s wheelchair. Angel noticed. The woman stared- not a rude or mean stare, but a pitiful one. Angel shot back an angry glance. I quickly pressed the button for the fifth floor, and Angel looked away from the woman. A soft ring like a doorbell played in the background as a substitute for elevator music. I opened the door, and pushed Angel inside our apartment room. My mother had a look of panic in her eye, but she calmed down when she spotted me and Angel. “Where were you two?!” My mother said worriedly, gasping for air. Neither of us said anything. Angel gave mother a toothy grin to tell her that we were alright. As the sun set, I made do with that mattress lying in the corner.
- Max, HDN Intern
__________________________________________________________________________
“Where am I?”
Is the question I ask as I stroll through New York city while pushing my sister’s wheelchair along the wet pavement. There is a difference between where I am and where I come from.
I come from fresh lemonade being sold on the streets of Philadelphia for 5 cents. I come from the tiny room in our apartment that has just enough space for me to call it home. I come from those lonely days when I’d know that I live in not such a grand or big or fancy place, but it’s perfect. If not- at least it’s good enough for me.
I have frizzy chocolate brown hair that curls all the way down to my shoulders, and a slim body. Where a smile was planted on my face, there is a frown. I wished that I didn’t feel so lost in New York. I wished that my father could keep his old job back in Philadelphia. I wished for a lot of things right now.
My sister, Angel has the same hair as mine, except for the fact that hers is straight, not curly. She has dark blue eyes. I have green. My mother looks like me, and my father looks completely different than the rest of us. He has navy blue eyes, which are darker than what my sister has. He has jet black hair and pale skin. I sometimes wonder if I will ever be able to look at that silent girl who is standing in the mirror and tell her that New York is the place for me. That girl’s name is Maya. That’s me.
I hear a faint whistle from the back alleyway but I ignore it like everyone else. Not everything catches my attention. Angel sighed as she laid her head on her elbow and crossed her legs. I can understand that having a broken ankle and having to sit in a wheelchair is hard. I glance at the street names and I spot a green sign swinging in the distance that reads, “Apartment rooms 1 to 320” I push my sister’s wheelchair to the side, towards the apartment building on Willow street.
My mother and father trail behind me. Too quiet. I walked through the apartment with marble flooring and tall shiny walls. It seems like a maze in here. I want to say, “Wow. I would have never lived in a place like this in Philadelphia.” But the name - Philadelphia - brings too many memories back. I blinked back tears as I regretted the minutes I spent in the car that was moving closer and closer to New York City. We entered our apartment room- the outside looks like a suite. The inside looks like the tiny car I had just come out of. I gazed out the window. I figured my sister would want to too. I pulled her wheelchair beside me, but it was only a matter of seconds before my father drew the blinds and the whole room turned dark. I plopped down onto the tiny mattress in the corner. I switched on a pale yellow lamp beside the “bed” and it flickered a bit.
The room was like a black hole. No light would escape it. Angel stretched her arms up into the air and yawned. I watched in pain because I knew that inside her mind she was also hoping that she could stretch her leg too- but some dreams don’t become reality. Like the dream of me staying in Philadelphia. As the sun sets, my parents tell me to take Angel outside since she can’t walk for herself. I spot a nearby lemonade stand, just like the ones outside our old apartment. I count my pocket money, and hand a few coins to the person serving lemonade. I take a sip. It tastes sweet, but the goodness only lasts for a second. It suddenly turns sour and burns my lips slightly. I don’t let Angel drink any- not the very person who’s opposed to sourness. I push her wheelchair and legs away from the stand. Bookstores, clothing stores, gaming stores and electronic stores stand in front of me, all merged into one big mall. The ceiling is twice as high as it is in our apartment. “Bookstore!” Angel exclaimed, she pointed towards the small, yet elegant bookstore. She waved her hands up and down like a kid in case I didn’t hear her the first time. I knew that if she could, she would kick too, just to grab my attention.
I loved the bookstore, but I didn’t get to see any books that I liked. Since my sister couldn’t walk around like I could, I had to push her towards wherever she wanted to go. I knew that in a month, when Angel’s broken ankle was no longer broken, I could come here again for myself.
Angel waved her arms again. I knew why. I quickly pushed her back to the apartment.
“Mother and father might be worried-” Angel started. I didn’t get to hear the rest of it. As we walked in, I headed straight to the elevator. There was a woman there, and her attention drew straight to Angel’s wheelchair. Angel noticed. The woman stared- not a rude or mean stare, but a pitiful one. Angel shot back an angry glance. I quickly pressed the button for the fifth floor, and Angel looked away from the woman. A soft ring like a doorbell played in the background as a substitute for elevator music. I opened the door, and pushed Angel inside our apartment room. My mother had a look of panic in her eye, but she calmed down when she spotted me and Angel. “Where were you two?!” My mother said worriedly, gasping for air. Neither of us said anything. Angel gave mother a toothy grin to tell her that we were alright. As the sun set, I made do with that mattress lying in the corner.
- Max, HDN Intern
