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Teen Ink Magazine,
June 2006 :
Nonfiction Articles
A Place to Call Home
by Rogelio C., Houston, TX
My family had just moved from Chicago because my mother did not like the winters. They moved into my grandparent’s house that was no bigger than two small classrooms. They already had three sons and were expecting my older sister, Claudia.
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Adopt Me
by Amanda H., Saginaw, MI
There are many young children whose parents abandon them and are left with no one to care for them. Luckily I was not put in that situation.
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Disruption
by Alison T., Villanova, PA
His shirt, soaked and ripped, clung to his emaciated body. He stood lopsided and staggered forward on the street below the broken traffic light. His body, ashen and half naked, disgusted me, yet I stared with sick fascination.
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Domino Theory
by Ben M., Newton, MA
I have had only two truly dreadful teachers in my life and we shall draw the curtain of charity over their names. This episode deals with one whom we shall know as “Madam X” (not “Pig Eyes” as I affectionately thought of her).
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Due To Me
by Jessica L., Hemet, CA
“Dad, I love you, but you don’t know it. I care about you, but you don’t see it. I need you, but you don’t think I do.”
I had never, ever seen my dad cry. He’s way too tough for tears.
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Dutch
by Kaleo S., Kailua, HI
“I always thought of you as gruff,a bear imbedded in a man. You and your overbearing voice, shoutingorders. I jumped when I saw you coming and flinched when you opened yourmouth, but something always brought me back.
“I learned tolove.
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Famous Eggs
by Cirrus S., Defiance, OH
As I sit at the light blue table, he shuffles over, grumbling about not having brown eggs.
“Brown eggs have a better flavor,” he explains to no one in particular. He clears his throat, a habit he picked up when he dropped another.
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Her Fashion
by Amanda W., New City, NY
We stepped outside into the cold, our coats sitting perfectly on our shoulders. Hers was gorgeous, ostentatious. I watched the rich green, red, and yellow fabric flow around her legs. About a dozen golden buttons gleamed on the folds like electric lights.
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His Last Smile
by Lyndsey C., Rancho Santa Fe, CA
This selection can be found in Chicken Soup for the Teen Soul, the 7th in the Teen Ink
book series, all available in bookstores nationwide and online.
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It Won’t Happen To Me
by Courtney F., Hemet, CA
He was sick. His voice was weak, not the strong, warm voice I had known all my life, but I thought it was just the flu. When I went to tell my mom and stepdad I was done with the phone, my mom couldn’t look at me.
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Living with the Past
by Colleen D., Brookline, MA
Boston outside the John F. Kennedy Library during the two-day conference on Vietnam and the presidency sponsored by the National Archives and Presidential Libraries.
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Melodious Chimes
by Kristina S., Conshohocken, PA
Sunday mornings have such potential, itseems. Are we itching to make up for a bad week, or trying to make agood start of a new one? There’s something about waking up witheight o’clock mass-goers to take time for a task or previouslyforgotten ...
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My Father: A Series of Vignettes
by Kittrell B., Dallas, TX
The houseguests wade in a pool of confused silence. “Is ... is that a Jackson Pollock?” they ask, swearing they didn’t realize my dad was so rich.
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My Favorite Place
by A. C., Columbus, OH
I get off the bus and walk a few blocks. I stop when I get to a garage-like place and walk to the metal door with chipping brown paint. I turn the knob and walk in. A thousand eyes look at me as I take my place at the end of the long line.
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Paper Chase
by Ilexis K., New City, NY
It had only been a week ago that I received the call.
“Would you be able to help out at the firm? All you’ll have to do is make copies, things like that.
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Psychoanalysis
by Nina, Armonk, NY
Hot-shot psychiatrists say your first memory is the most important. This scares me. If sledding when I was five is something that I remember to this day, then that doesn’t say too much about my life.
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The Dirt Bike
by Alexis G., Gibsonia, PA
This is the story of a time I went to my dad for help because he seemed to be the only person who believed in me.
My friend Brett had just gotten a dirt bike and a lot of other kids in my neighborhood knew how to ride.
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The Stars
by Kareen K., Highland Village, TX
My greatest treasure doesn’t have an owner, it belongs to everybody willing to look up. When nighttime is set with its silky black sky and I look into it, I see the shining eyes of my father. The stars are my greatest treasure.
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Writer’s Morning
by Kerry H., Bonners Ferry, ID
I am almost never awake when I have a shower. I never really got the hang of waking up in the morning, you see. Some describe their morning as: “I got up, took a shower, got dressed, had breakfast ...” and trail off with a shrug.
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Nonfiction articles from the Teen Ink Archives
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