G8+Group+2

"We Will Always Be with You" by Jordan B. Adam L. and Aaron O.

//Fire, burning as bright as the sun. The acrid smell of smoke filled my lungs. I coughed. All I could see was my mom trying to guide others to firefighters and the exits. I could see her getting farther and farther away from me as the firefighter that had taken me roughly over his shoulder ran for an exit.// //It was September 11, 2001, and it was my 7th birthday. Earlier today I had eaten cake and ice cream with my parents and my best friend, Joey Stazawitz. Now I was at my parents’ office because they wanted to show off their new seven year old son. Instead, two planes crashed into the buildings and started this mess. In my hand, I had the pocket watch that my mom had given me. “I will always be with you” it said. I don’t think that will be the case anymore.// //Then the unimaginable happened. I heard a crack. My mom seemed to freeze with fear. A thought ran through my mind; this is the last time I will ever see her. The ceiling toppled and hot plaster covered my mom. All I heard was screaming, including my own, but the fireman did not stop running. Suddenly, I couldn’t hear anything. It was as if I had stopped, but the world kept going. The fallen plaster did not move. There was no sign of life below it. We flew down the stairs, a full twelve stories. Red tears and sweat covered my face and soon I couldn’t see anything except for the thoughts I was imaging in my mind.// //I felt cool air hit my legs and the back of my neck and I looked up to see the devastation that was the Twin Towers in flames. I saw two planes which created holes in the buildings. Smoke and fire engulfed them, destroying them as if they were two pieces of firewood.// //I couldn’t control myself any longer. My mind exploded. I screamed at the fireman to let me down as tears burst out of my body.// //“Whoa there, little guy. Calm down; everything will be okay...” he said seeming unsure of himself.// //“My mom is dead,” I bawled, “and you killed her!”// //“Where’s your dad?” he asked trying to calm me.// //I pointed up at the burning buildings. He turned his head to look where I was pointing and I sprinted away.// //“Wait!” he screamed after me, but nothing could stop me now. I sprinted into New York, and no one could stop me.//

Dustin Q Baum awoke to the sound of New York City in 2008. Sweat lined his dirty face as he thought about the dream he had been having ever since the "incident,"as he thought it, occured. He rose up from the dirty mattress that he slept on every night, outside of //Mattress World//. He looked out to the busy street where many suited men walked importantly around like the "incident" had never happened. Dustin stalked across the street, trying not to draw attention to himself. He shimmied along to the back of the //Carrabas,// his dull blue eyes darting around for anyone that saw him, but he knew no one would, for everyone was too involved in their own lives to notice a little homeless boy.  Shaking his crusty hair, he climbed up onto a ledge with a dumpster on it where he had set up a cardboard box to catch food that is dumped from the night before. He reached down and hoisted the box out with one muscular arm. <span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Courier New',Courier,monospace"><span style="FONT-SIZE: 90%; FONT-FAMILY: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif">“Mmmmm,” he hummed to himself (He always talked to himself because he was afraid to talk to anyone else). “I love the smell of half-eaten chicken parm in the morning.” This was his favorite morning snack. There was always some left over in the box. <span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Courier New',Courier,monospace"><span style="FONT-SIZE: 90%; FONT-FAMILY: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif">Suddenly he heard a noise from below. There were two men walking towards him. “Garbage men,” he squeaked, “I forgot it was Thursday.” He ducked behind the dumpster and crawled to the edge of the ledge. The men were coming closer. Looking behind for the men, he stepped on a loaf of bread coated in marinara and slipped. Stumbling around, he flew from the ledge and landed on his back. He lay still, hoping the men had not heard or seen him. <span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Courier New',Courier,monospace"><span style="FONT-SIZE: 90%; FONT-FAMILY: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif">“What was that?” one asked. <span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Courier New',Courier,monospace"><span style="FONT-SIZE: 90%; FONT-FAMILY: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif">“It’s a kid!” the other exclaimed, “Hey kid, you all right? <span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Courier New',Courier,monospace"><span style="FONT-SIZE: 90%; FONT-FAMILY: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif">Dustin sprang up and sprinted out of the alley on one shoe. He turned the corner and ran and ran and ran. In the distance he saw the 9/11 carnage in and turned towards it. He came to it and finally stopped running. He bowed his head and sat down on the bench next to it. After a long moment of mourning, he rose and walked slowly to the memorial and found three names: Mary Q Baum, Steven Q Baum, and Dustin Q Baum, his mom, his dad, and him. As usual, there were new flowers next to it. Dustin had no idea where they came from, but they were always there. <span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Courier New',Courier,monospace"><span style="FONT-SIZE: 90%; FONT-FAMILY: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif">He spent the next few hours walking around New York, ducking around people and scrounging for scraps of food. When lunch time came around he went to his second restaurant of choice, //Applebee’s// and founds some chicken fingers to nibble on. Next, just like every day, he climbed the ladder to the top of //Mattress World// and stared up at the sky. This was his favorite thing to do. There was no one around to hassle him. He could think freely. He felt a drop of water on his cheek, then his hand, and now the hole in his shirt on his chest. He stood up with water now coming down steadily around him. Walking away, he saw a small dirty puddle where he was; he was the cleanest he’d been in months. <span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Times New Roman',Times,serif"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif"><span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Courier New',Courier,monospace"><span style="FONT-SIZE: 90%; FONT-FAMILY: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif">“Another day, another blister,” he said looking at his hands. A fresh blister had formed from climbing the ladder and scrounging around the ledge at the //Carrabas//. He scooted under the building, pulling his mattress and few other clothing garments with him. He lay down and stared at the falling rain, wondering what tomorrow had in store for him.

It was another normal day; Dustin spent the morning at the wreckage after he got his food (more chicken parm from //Carrabas)//. Once again he mourned, and once again there were new flowers on the plaque with his name, his father's name, and his mother's name on it. He turned away and walked back to the streets. Dustin was walking past a school when he heard a raspy, mid-toned voice that he could hear clearly over all of New York. “Hey guys, check it!” the voice had said. For some reason, he seemed drawn to that voice, like it was familiar to him. “Who is that?” Dustin thought. He followed the voice into a skate park, and saw a lot of skaters, but a particular group that was encircling something or someone. He tried to push through and, sure enough, the circle had broken by the time he got to the center, with their attention still being drawn to someone. He pushed to the middle to see a huge bowl. The body of a skater shot up into the air, doing a very difficult trick. Dustin knew that trick from somewhere, but where? Out of nowhere Dustin yelled out without thinking, “HEY, YOU!” He didn’t know why, but he soon regretted it because whoever the skater was was distracted and his skateboard flew away from him. It seemed as if the skater was hovering in mid-air for a long time before he spun and hit the ground, hard. The crowd of bystanders quickly went from //ooh’s// and //aah’s// to //ow’s// and //ouches//. Dustin, not knowing what to do at first quickly followed his normal instinct and started to run, but the skater had quickly recovered and grabbed Dustin by the back of his already torn shirt. “YO, KID, WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM MAN?!” The guy looked very familiar, and suddenly a face from seven years ago popped into his head. Dustin knew who this guy was. “I was about to do my signature move, NO ONE, and I mean NO ONE, messes me up.” The skater shoved Dustin with surprising force and he tumbled to the ground where he immediately spun around to see the skater walking towards him. “Do you have a problem with me?!” He waited for a reply, and was about to ask again when Dustin slowly replied, “Joey Lawrence Stazawitz," he paused, "that is your full name, your favorite sport is skateboarding, your favorite move is “The Zombie.” You went to Montell Elementary with me when you were seven. Your parents’ names are Kim and Sid. At age 7 you came to my birthday party and gave me a skateboard autographed by you. You said that one day I could sell it for a lot of money when you were which and famous. You haven’t seen me since September 11, 2001, my birthday. To the world that day was my death. Joey, I’m your best friend. I’M DUSTIN Q BAUM!

<span style="FONT-FAMILY: 'Courier New',Courier,monospace"> <span style="FONT-FAMILY: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif"><span style="FONT-SIZE: 90%; FONT-FAMILY: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif">After a long day of confusion and realization, Dustin realized how much he missed having friends and family. He let out a big sigh, thinking about what his next step in life would be. After the rumble at the skate park, Joey asked Dustin if he would come to dinner so that they could talk and maybe work some things out. Dustin thought out loud "Should I keep my current life; living hard, cold, and all by myself? Or should I go and have dinner with Joey and his family so they can help me with my life?" A little while later after some deep thinking, Dustin made a huge decision; he decided to take the step and go eat dinner with Joey Stazawitz and his parents. Dustin cleaned himself up the best he could and chose the finest clothes he had so he could look nice for Joey and his family. He walked to the nearest public restroom and stuck his head in the sink to wash his hair and his face; he used the bathroom’s hand soap to even make himself clean and presentable. He slipped his clean loose shirt on over a white t-shirt he had been wearing for the past three days; he had no other choice; however he hoped no one would notice since it would be covered up. He ran his hands through his wet, scraggly brown hair and looked at himself in the mirror. He examined his freshly clean face and his dull blue eyes; his skin was tanned from being in the sun. He was ready to go. Another deep sigh was let out as he pushed open the bathroom door to make his way towards Joey’s house. Breathing heavily, his heart was pumping, and he had somewhat of an adrenaline rush running through his body as he seemed to walk quickly, following the directions Joey gave him. Taking each step carefully, he was worried what Joey’s family would think of him since he was wearing dirty rags for clothes and probably didn’t smell as good as they would smell. Eventually he made it to the door of Joey’s house, and a few thoughts ran through his mind; is this the right house? Do I look alright? When should I ring the door bell? I wonder what his family will think of me. Pressing his shirt to his body and running his fingers through his hair one more time, he stepped forward slowly and pressed the white lit-up doorbell. Dustin soon found himself being squeezed and hugged by the three the members of the Stazawitz family; even their dog, Balou, was barking loudly in welcome! After all the hullabaloo, Dustin and the Stazawitz family sat down for a nice classic American dinner made up of finger sandwiches, pizza, various sodas, and chips. Dustin was overwhelmed with all of the options and just decided to sit at the table quietly until everyone started eating their food. “EAT UP DUSTIN!” Joey called across the dinner table. “Do you not like it Dustin? I can make you something else if you’d like!” Joey’s mom, Kim, said kindly trying to be as welcoming as possible. “Dustin, Joey has missed you so much. He has been so upset the day they declared your death, and he has been putting flowers at the memorial every single day.” “DAD!” Joey called at his dad, in an embarrassed tone. Dustin laughed and found himself in every bit of conversation. It was nice to be in a real conversation with real people. The dinner continued for a little while longer and Dustin realized that it wasn’t bad to become close with people; it actually makes life more enjoyable than he thought possible. After eating for a while, Joey's parents gave each other a look as if to say do you want to talk or should I. Joey's mom started, "Dustin, we are overjoyed that you are alive and with us now, but I think we should help your, um, situation." She paused and let this seep in the Dustin, "I think you should go to the orphanage. I know that nobody could replace your parents, but I don't see any other option other than staying on the street." Now she stood and walked over to Dustin putting a warm hand on his shoulder, "I guess it's a little much to throw at you now, but it's something to think about." Dustin was thinking about it, he actually had been thinking about for all of the dinner, but rather then bring it up now, he wanted to talk with Joey. They stood and waddled off to Joey's room, where Dustin plopped in the bean bag chair that he knew would be in there. "So Joey," he said, "how've you been?" "How do you think?" Joey being Joey. "Joey, I've been thinking," Dustin started, "I've been thinking that maybe I could come live with you and your family. Wouldn't that be awesome? We would be brothers. Just the two of us, just like old times." Joey turned his head as he stood and walked to the window where he stared out into the lit up world. There was a long moment of silence. Neither boy spoke. Finally, Joey spoke, "I'm sorry Dustin, I really am, but no, it wouldn't be like old times," now he turned around and raised his voice slightly, "I have other friends now. I'm different." Now he was worked up and started moving around, "I know we are still friends, but we are not brothers, and we never will be. You disappeared for seven years. I can't just forget that. You just can't forget that. I was overjoyed when I recognized you, but now I'm a little angry that you been hiding. What do you think happened to us? Do you think our lives just stopped because you were gone? No. We were sad, but we did not regress like you did." He paused and let out a small sigh that sounded like he was gurgling water. "Maybe I'm wrong, but you ran away because your parents died, " he now sounded calmer, "I would have thought even if it was as traumatic as, um, well, I don't know, I haven't experienced that, but my point is, it is ok to be sad, but you can't waste your life mourning. I think you should try to find a new family, maybe someone who lost someone somewhere. They will be able to relate with you." During Joey's whole speech, Dustin stared blankly out the window taking in the words as if they were bee stings. Once again there was a silence. Then Dustin spoke, "You're right. I should not live with you, but you,re wrong. I don't need to find a family." With that he bounded out of the room heading straight for the front door. He took a great leap from the top step landed at the bottom and was gone.

Dustin was angry. "How could he have done that to me?" he said aloud not caring who heard. He is homeless. Why was he so mean? Maybe he whould only talk to me like that unless he was telling the truth. Wait. No. He is wrong. As the rain started to pick up again, Dustin took to the roof. //Why did he snap like that? Should I not have fled from the "incident"? Maybe I do need a family? What does regress mean?// His head was going in about seven different directions and he did not know which to choose. He did not want to stay on the street, but he did not want a family. Or did he? Maybe some of what Joey had said made sense. He did not know what to think.

Another day went by and Dustin was still confused. He spent almost all of the day on the roof thinking. He only came down for food. He did not even go to the 9/11 memorial. "Maybe I am changing," he said to no one. "Maybe I'm different. Maybe, I want a family and don't know it. Maybe I made a huge mistake." At the end of the day, nothing had come to him and he went down the ladder. Standing next to his bed was none other than Joey Stazawitz. Again, there was silence. Again, it was awkward. Joey was the first to speak, "I haven't changed my mind." "Oh?" was all Dustin thought to say. "Yeah, but I want to help you." "And how are you gonna do that?" now Dustin was a little bit agitated. "With my-" Joey started, but Dustin cut him off. "How can you think, I would get over seeing my mom die on my birthday!" "I didn't-" "I was seven, what would you have done? I don't think it is fair for you to berate me because I was sad about my parents dying! I got this," he said pulling the pocketwatch from his shirt pocket, "I got this that day," Dustin was now crying, "You know what this says?," he wailed pointing at the engravement, "'We will always be with you'," he paused trying to control his grief. "That same day, they left me. My mom gave me to the firefighter before the ceiling collapsed and my father died somewhere in the top floor trying to get a soda for me. They died because of me. Not because of the firemen, not because of them being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It was because of me." He turned his gloomy face away from Joey. "You couldn't possibly understand what I'm going through." "No, I couldn't, but I know who could," Joey said as a matter of factly, "Dustin, I'd like you to meet, Susan and David Sigmond their son died in the 9/11 attack just like your parents did." Dustin stopped crying and stood stunned as a man and woman came around the corner together. "They're my parents' friends," Joey said, "I'll leave you guys alone." Joey slowly walked away and left Dustin standing with the Sigmonds. "Hello, Dustin," Susan said, "We've heard all about you. About your loss. Like Joey said, we know all about your pain, and we can't wait to get to know you more. Joey is a good friend even if he did snap at you. He went through about twenty different social service people just so we could even see you. Then he made it so that, if you let us, we could adopt you." "But," David said picking up where his wife left off, "we aren't going to force you to get to come with us. We want you to do what you want to do." Dustin just stood there, not knowing what to say. Here were people that knew what he felt, and he wasn't running. This is wierd, he thought. He wasn't scared or nervous or anything. He didn't know what to do. "Well waddya say?" David Sigmond said playingly, "Give us a chance? I promise, we won't bite."

In a weird sense Dustin felt as if his foster parents were sent to take care of him because his parents no longer could. He could not quite put his finger on it, but something that night felt right. He'd felt something he hadn't felt in seven years. The funny thing was: he liked it. Now he lay in the bed that used to belong to John Sigmond, Dustin wondered if John was with Dustin's parents like Dustin was with John's.