Table of Contents Views and Mechanics Publisher's Note Editor's Note Review of African Psycho Review of The Life and Times of the Thunderbolt Kid Film Review of "Judith Butler: Philosophical Encounters of the Third Kind" Writing Contest Results Creative Nonfiction Back Pain...Who Cares? By Michael D. Burg Knit Two Together By Jo L. Gerrard Skin Odyssey By Holly Leigh Jacobson Leaves in the Wind By Molly Molloy Hydroglyphics By Phaedra Greenwood Poetry Indiana Poem By Michael Lee Johnson Inspire Me, Ms. Muse By Tony Zurlo A Poem Forgot By Gabrielle Rabinowitz Yours By Sheila McLaughlin Sikorski Confetti By Alan Girling Correction: Drive Me Home Again By Anne Cammon Fiction Scaffold By Joseph Bathanti For the Taking By Anne Leigh Parrish The Artistic Impulse By Johanna Lipford Justifiable Brew Aside By Barbara Anton Stopping at the DQ By Susan White Cover Art Bright Red By Dee Rimbaud About the Contributors © 2007, River Walk Journal and respective authors and artists. All rights reserved. Do not use or reproduce without permission. River Walk Journal, Inc. Board of Directors Chairman - Elizabeth Ross Vice Chairman - Joseph Koch Secretary/Treasurer - Geri Stock-Ross Editorial Director - Patti Kurtz, DA Literacy Director - Vacant Policy Director - PA State Rep. Jess Stairs Advisory Board Chairman - Patti Kurtz, DA Asst. Chairman - Dan Lachenman, PhD Samuel Hazo Christopher Leland Edwin Yoder Joseph Bathanti Journal Staff Publisher - Elizabeth Ross Editor-In-Chief - Joseph Koch Senior Editor - Patti Kurtz Senior Editor - Neeldhara Misra Copyeditor - Kathy Skaggs Blog Contributing Editor - Maggie Koster Education Blog Contributing Editor - Jordan Wirfs-Brock Publicity Director (PA) - Geri Stock-Ross For information about submissions, visit http://www.riverwalkjournal.org/subs.html. Questions about promotions, subscribers' services, and advertising should be sent to publisher@riverwalkjournal.org. River Walk Journal, Inc. is a non-profit corporation run entirely by volunteers. For information about volunteer opportunities and internships, visit VolunteerMatch.

Stopping at the DQ By Susan White 3rd Place Short Story Heidi Sims is crazy. I wish she was my mom. She drives her station wagon like Cruella Deville, making us smack into each other from door to door, like magnets. Only she’s not mean, and she loves dogs. She kept her Scottie dog, Whisky, in the freezer for a long time. But that’s because he was dead. She froze him ‘til she could tie him on top of her car and drive him to Georgia to bury him. She doesn’t smoke like Cruella either. She pretends with us though. Once, she bought us bubblegum cigarettes – the ones wrapped in paper that blow sugar out like smoke – and showed us how to say, “Hello, daaaahling,” blow the cigarette, then wave it like a windshield wiper. Gabby’s sitting on the hump – between me and Jenna – because she’s the littlest. Her eyes are almost as blue as her t-shirt, and she smells like syrup. Allison’s sitting in front like she always does, even though it’s not her care or her mom. Jenna and Gabby don’t mind sitting in the back ‘cause they get to be with their mom all the time. Allison is one year older than Jenna and me, and she’s three years older than Gabby. She’s not only the oldest; she’s the strongest and fastest. She plays little league baseball with the boys. First base. Jenna has long legs covered with picked-at bug bites, and her ribs poke out at her sides. She’s not fast, bus she can already multiply fraction, and Mrs. Watkins hasn’t even taught us that in class yet. I’m not that good at math or baseball, but my art teacher put my painting of a fish – yellow, blue, and green – in the school competition, and some artist lady picked mine as the second best picture. The red ribbon is on the corner of my bedroom mirror. Everyone’s singing “The Tide Is High” except me because Jenna made fun of me for singing, “Oh no” at the wrong time. Heidi sings, “The tide is Heidi” real loud. Now everyone is singing it that way. Heidi’s straight, blond hair flaps across her round, brown sunglasses and out the window. I like how she takes one hand off the steering wheel and swings her arm through the air to the music. My mom always turns the radio down or off so she can concentrate on driving. We’re going to Bradley Falls, a waterfall with a deep swimming hole. That water is cold. So cold it’s hard to breathe when you’re in it, and when you get out, your legs are red and rubbery. Gabby figures out what road we’re on now because she says, “Mom, can we stop at the Dairy Queen?” And she says Dairy Queen real slow like she’s doing a magic trick. Heidi keeps singing over her until Gabby grabs onto her headrest and whines into her ear. Heidi says we’ll stop on the way home. We’re going to eat lunch soon. “A double ice cream for whoever finds the prettiest rock, a single for the rest of us.” I bet the good rocks, the really smooth ones, are in the creek with the fast water. I’m going to look for a round stone, a red one or a black one. “We’re going to be some swimmin’ women,” Heidi shouts over the radio guy’s voice as we roll up and down a dirt road where no houses are, just trees and dusty blackberry bushes. And it’s true. No dads are coming. Allison’s dad doesn’t even live with her anymore. My little brother is at a friend’s house, and Allison’s big brother, Ben, wouldn’t swim with a bunch of little girls, even if he got five ice cream doubles. Heidi parks in the gravelly area next to the trail. There’s a truck and a rusty, white car there. I wish we had it to ourselves. My mom is meeting us at the waterfall. She’s buying picnic food. We picked up Allison to spend the day with us because her mother is having a hard time. That’s what I heard my mom tell Heidi when she brought my bathing suit by this morning – when we were eating pancakes. We get out of the car and Jenna tells me to XYZ. I zip up my shorts and act like I don’t care. Allison walks with her towel around her neck, and Jenna does the same. I hold the yellow towel I borrowed from the Sims to my nose; it smells like Jenna’s sheets I slept on last night. Like a swimming pool and baby powder. Allison’s just waering shorts over her bathing suit, and I can see part of a butterfly tattoo on the back of her shoulder. Purple and orange spots on the yellow wing and a half that hasn’t rubbed off yet. Gabby walks slowly in her rainbow flip-flops. She’s telling me about the lake they used to go to in Georgia, even though they will’ve lived in Tennessee for a year when it’s August. I wish she’d stop talking so I can catch up with Allison and Jenna. Heidi carries a big straw bag over her shoulder and puts her hair into a ponytail while she walks. When we turn right onto the steep path, we hold onto skinny, bendy trees so we don’t fall. Heidi shows Gabby how to scoot on her bottom and use her hands for brakes. Our tennis shoes slide on the tiny pebbles. Jenna holds onto the belt loop of my jean shorts, and I take baby steps, leaning back on my heels so we don’t fall down. Allison runs in a zigzag, switching hands with each tree. Jenna says something, but all I hear is “down” because the waterfall is loud, like TV static. The air feels so much colder, too. At first only my legs are cold, but when we get close enough to see the water – coming down in one big sheet, I feel like I’ve just walked into a movie theater. We walk to the big rocks around the water, and it’s sunny there. A girl is lying down with her curly-haired boyfriend on a huge, flat rock close to the waterfall. At first I’m scared she’s naked, but she’s wearing a brown bikini. She’s on her back, and he has his hand on her stomach. There are beer bottles around them. They don’t see us, and Heidi waggles her eyebrows and says, “Hubba, hubba.” Jenna tells her to stop it. It takes them a while to notice us, but when they do, they put their clothes and shoes on and crawl over the rocks – carrying a paper bag with their bottles in it. I’m glad they’re leaving before my mom shows up. She’d tell them to behave because little kids are around. We put our stuff down on the warm rocks. I take off my shirt and shorts so that I’m only wearing my shoes and old one-piece bathing suit – the one that’s raggedy on the bottom – because mom won’t let me wear my new one in the woods. We have to wear shoes in the water or else the pointy rocks will jab our feet. Heidi makes us all sit on her rock while she puts suntan lotion on. She says it’s for adults. That we need to get sun little by little. She squirts oil from the dark brown bottle into her palm and smears it all over her front and face with her long, painted fingers and gives the bottle to Jenna to rub some lotion onto her back. She smells like coconut candy and she’s all shiny. Sitting up straight, Heidi talks to Allison, asks her how her dad is doing. When Allison tells her she went with him to a movie last weekend, Heidi asks her if he brought anyone else with him. She asks Allison lots of questions but acts like she already knows the answers. She talks to her the way my mother talks to me when I have a fever. And she tells Allison she has nice eyes like her father. I wish there was something new in my life that Heidi could ask me about. I say, “I saw Raiders of the Lost Ark.” Heidi says, “Shhh. Don’t interrupt, Kim.” I want to yank Heidi’s hoop earring right through her earlobe. But Jenna hums the movie song and drums on her mother’s back, and I have to hum louder, because she’s messing up the tune. Allison jumps to another rock, acting like she’s holding onto a rope. Gabby squats to jump, too, but Heidi pulls her into her lap and tickles her ribs and belly. Heidi calls us the Rowdy Raiders of Bradley Falls and winks at me. I don’t want to hurt her anymore. I walk over to the stream where the water just comes to my ankles to look for the winning rock, but Allison tells me to come back, that we all have to swim in a diagonal to the ledge. She says they have a picture on their refrigerator of Ben jumping off the ledge. But I already know that. I’ve seen it. Probably is mom or dad took it, when they were all one family. My mother doesn’t let me jump off the ledge, but she’s not here. Heidi is in charge. I look over my shoulder to see if my mom is coming down the path. I only see Heidi blowing up Gabby’s raft. The water is past my knees, and it’s hard to drag my legs forward. I don’t want to stand still long, or fish might bite at my legs. My body wants to fall forward, but I hate when the cold water hits my middle – that’s when it hurts the most. I hold my arms up high, and Allison kicks hard with her heavy shoes. Jenna says, “I’ll race you.” She puts her head under and kicks and kicks, her noodle arms slapping the water. I take a breath and go under. I see flashes of Jenna’s legs and feet through the green-brown water. No chlorine to sting my eyes. But my skin is frozen and burning. I push through the water to breathe. My eyelashes are clumped together. The waterfall is loud, so loud I can’t hear anything else, and I think maybe I’m actually sleeping and not swimming. When my feet touch the bottom again, Allison and Jenna are both standing by the short trail to the ledge. Allison calls me pokey. But I started last. She walks on her hands and feet like a cat up the path to the ledge. Jenna balances a little under Allison because the ledge is only wide enough for one person at a time. I stand below Jenna with my back against the mossy rock. I feel like the person in the Olympics who gets the bronze medal. My legs tingle. We are half as high as the waterfall and higher than the high dive at the pool where my grandmother lives. Heidi and Gabby wave to us. When I move a little from the wall to wave back, my legs are all wobbly. Heidi and Gabby look like they’re shouting something, but I can’t hear anything except the waterfall. Allison won’t jump. She’s looking down, and she’s still, like she’s part of the rock. Heidi waves her shirt like she’s on the race track. Allison bends her knees and freezes. Gets stuck. She straightens up again. I’ve never seen Allison scared to do anything before. But she must be. Her hands keep squeezing into fists and opening. It’s like I’ve run the 50-yard-dash, so excited for my turn, to show everyone that I’m not afraid. Jenna screams for her to shut her eyes. Allison yells something then steps down to where Jenna is. Jenna takes her place on the ledge. Jenna doesn’t wait at all. She holds her nose and steps off. Her other hand flies up like she knows the answer to something important. When she hits the water, I see my mother scrambling over the rocks. She’s dropped her bags, and her hands are around her mouth. She’s wearing a man’s white, button down shirt like a jacket over her blue bathing suit, no shorts. Her stomach looks big on her little legs, even from here. I tell Allison to let me go next, and she tells me go ahead, that she’s deciding how she wants to go off. Standing on the ledge, I look out and see Heidi and my mom stretching their necks, yelling to me. But the sound of the waterfall is between me and my mother, so I jump. My arms smack the water like a hard spanking. I sink through the water into iciness. My right foot hits a rock, I feel it through my shoe, and I float back up. I use my arms to push down like I’m trying to fly so I make it to the surface faster. My bangs are flat and over my eyes when I breathe air. I shake my head until I can see, and I swim the way my grandmother does when her hair’s been done. I’m smiling until I see my mother standing in the water with her hands on her hips. She’s not yelling at me, just glaring. I want to tread water, stay away from her, but I know I’ll have to face her. My foot throbs a little, but I’m not going to tell her that. I arch my body and go under the surface. When I pop up closer to everyone, I see my mother shaking her arms while she talks to Heidi. I stand where the water is up to my bellybutton. Jenna is tilting her head, getting water out of her ear. My mother is angry. I hear, “…not your child…dangerous…get her down.” I swim closer to my mother who is not looking up at the ledge, screaming, “Walk back down!” She’s tracing the path with her finger again and again. Allison walks back down the path like she’s been sent to her room. Heidi says, “No one’s hurt. Everything’s fine.” My mother snaps at her, breaking the whole day. “A college student was helicoptered out of here a few summers ago. The water’s not as deep as you think. There are rocks they can hit.” I don’t want to look at anyone, so I walk over to where my towel is, but my mother grabs my arm as I try to pass her. Her hand is hot on my cold skin. She squeezes while she asks me why I jumped when I knew I wasn’t allowed to. I can only look down until she lets go of me. I watch Allison swim toward us, and I know she will be mad at me for having such a mean mom. Jenna and Gabby wade into the water away from us. When Allison walks out of the water, Heidi is helping my mother get our lunch stuff ready. I tell Allison we’re having fried chicken for lunch, but she doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t care. She walks over to my mother and says her mother would let her jump off the ledge, that her brother has before. I say that’s right, that I’ve seen a picture of him jumping off the ledge. My mother says that doesn’t matter. She’s not going to risk someone getting hurt while she’s in charge. It’s not fair that Allison is the only one who didn’t get to jump. I see curly hair sticking out from under my mother’s bathing suit, and I want to hide. Jenna is lucky her mom is skinny and takes care of herself. We use the hand-wipes my mom saved from Kentucky Fried Chicken. We each get two paper plates because they’re flimsy. The potato salad looks too yellow – like taffy – and it has tiny green things in it, so I just eat a few bites and spread it around with my plastic spoon. I think we should have forks anyway. Jenna only eats the breast pieces, and Gabby likes drumsticks. Heidi takes a picture of us all eating, and I think of the picture of Ben. His mouth open, arms up and legs bent. I wonder if he touched a rock with his and didn’t tell anyone. I shiver and know I need to pee. But I can hold it. My mother holds up a wishbone and asks me to pull it with her. Little pieces of chewed meat hang off it. I shake my head no. “There must be something you want,” she says. I want her to stop talking to me, to go back home so we can have fun. Jenna stands up and says she knows something she wants. My mom and her pull on the bone and I wish I had said yes like I usually would have. We can’t swim for thirty minutes after we eat, so Heidi tells us to look for pretty rocks. She and my mother are still talking to each other, even laughing some, but Allison and Jenna both say how stupid it is that we can’t jump off the ledge. Allison says that my mom let me jump off because I’m her daughter. I don’t try to explain that I wasn’t supposed to jump either. When I tell her that she can jump off another time – when she come with her mom – she tells me that her mom is sad and will probably never come here again. Gabby adds another rock to her pile. She’s no very picky. I think she’s just trying to collect the most. Allison holds up an orangish rock with gold flakes in it, and when Jenna tells her it’s a good one, Allison throws it over-handed far into the trees. “Why’d you do that?” I ask. Allison shrugs. “I don’t want it.” Jenna keeps a black stone that’s shaped like an egg. She says she’s going to glue eyes on it and make it a pet. I haven’t found a rock better than Jenna’s. I’m not looking that hard though because I want Allison to win the double ice cream. My mom comes over to show us a tiny turtle she found. She holds it like a sandwich, and its legs move in the air. We gather around her to touch the turtle’s leathery skin. She puts it in a real shallow part, and we watch it swim and crawl onto a rock. Allison tells us all to build a pool for the turtle by making a circle of rocks. We put the turtle in the chicken bucket while we make its pool. We can hear mom and Heidi making ghost noises because they’re swimming in the cold water. By the time the pool’s built, it’s time for us to leave. First, we make Heidi and my mom some see the turtle that we named Raider swim around in circles. “Why’d you name it Raider?” my mom asks. I wait to see if Allison or Jenna will talk to my mom, but Gabby answers. “’Cause of the movie.” No one sings. Raider crawls over a rock and swims away. Goodbye, Raider. We all put our clothes on and carry our wet towels back to the parking lot. Heidi reminds us we’re stopping at the D.Q. This is news to my mother, but she thinks it’s a great idea. “When are you going to judge the rocks?” Jenna wants to know. I stick my hand in my pocket and feel the two rocks I kept. They feel rough – chalky – now that they’re dry. When they were wet, they felt polished. Heidi says we might have to ask the Dairy Queen to be the judge. She’s being silly. There isn’t really a queen, just some high school students and a woman with bad teeth and greasy hair. I hope she’s not behind the counter when we stop because she always calls you honey and asks if you’ve been good enough to deserve an ice cream. I don’t want to answer that question today. Mom tells Heidi we’ll meet her there, but I’m quick to tell her I’m riding with everyone else to the Dairy Queen. She blinks and says, “Oh. Okay. I’ll meet y’all there,” and then the toe of her shoe hits the ground and she stumbles a little, which kind of makes her look like a little kid. I almost change my mind and ride with her, but I don’t want to miss out on anything. We all sit in our same seats. Jenna tells her mom to turn on the radio. I lean my head against the window, listening to a song I don’t know. Allison says they’re men singing, but they sound like girls to me. Their words are drowned by the sound of the air conditioner. Gabby leans on Jenna who has taken off her shoes – wiggling her white, wrinkly toes. I can feel the sun under my eyes and on my nose. My shoes are squishy, my foot is bruised where it bends. I’m gritty all over. My eyes shut and open. Shut and open. I turn in my seat and look out the back window to see if my mom is behind us. She’s there. The sun bounces off her windshield, so I can’t see her face. Just her hands holding the steering wheel tight. I turn back around and see the three trailers that mean we’re getting close to the railroad tracks, which means we’ll see the gas station and stores soon. I’m rolling Jenna’s rock inside my hand when we bump across the tracks. We all hold our feet up – even Heidi. We don’t want bad luck. I didn’t know you could drive with no feet. I’ve only held the wheel, never worked the pedals. Jenna asks for her rock back. She knows we’re getting close to the Dairy Queen. Like I would pass her rock off as mine. Heidi stops the car at the red light. Men are standing in a group, and they’re wearing white robes, like they’re in a play or a parade or something. They’re holding stacks of paper and bags of lollipops. Two of them walk over to Heidi’s window. She rolls it down, and one of them says, “Good afternoon, Ma’am. Beautiful children you’ve got.” I sit up a little straighter and smile at him. Heidi says we’re not all hers, but she’ll claim us. He hands her a piece of paper and tells her that we have to look out for our own and not let the coloreds take over. He nods at us and says, “They’re already ruining our schools. We don’t need ‘em taking our jobs or dating our girls.” I don’t know who’s messing up our schools. I think about the Buckner brothers and sisters who are dirty, freckled and mean. They’re always getting paddled for sassing teachers and pushing smaller kids around. Heidi reads the paper, and says, “Thanks for all you do.” He hands her four lollipops. The light turns green, and he holds up a tin bucket. “The Knights sure could use your help to keep this area pure.” She hands the lollipops to Allison and reaches in her purse. She puts some dollar bills in his bucket. He says “’Preciate it, Ma’am.” As we move forward again, I look back to see if my mom will give them money. She doesn’t even stop. She’s stingy. She leans her head out the window, shouting something. The small man shouts back. I’m glad we’re in this car and not hers. Heidi is nice to people. I don’t think anyone else saw her. Thank goodness. Allison pokes her head around, and holds the lollipops up for us. When we reach for them, she pulls them away and makes us call her the Dairy Knight before she’ll give them to us. “Please, Dairy Knight, may I have a lollipop,” we say. “Save it for after the ice cream,” Heidi tells us. When we make it to the Dairy Queen, I put my lollipop inside the yellow towel I borrowed and lay it on the floorboard. I use my whole arm to open the door. As soon as I am standing on the pavement, my mother tells me to get in her car. “We just got here,” I say. But she won’t listen to me. She tells me again to get in the car, this time using her voice like a fist, so I get in the back seat. I’m not sitting up front with her. She ruins everything. My stomach burns because she’s yelling at Heidi. Heidi yells back. I feel like I’m going to throw up. Why did I ever jump off that ledge? But they’re not yelling about the ledge. Heidi says, “I don’t think they should be hurt. I just don’t want them taking over.” Mom gets close to her face. “I don’t want my daughter around anyone who pays for hatred.” I don’t know what that means. All I know is I hate her. Heidi just paid for lollipops. I remember my lollipop is in her car. Now I won’t be able to get it. Jenna and Gabby will never speak to me again, and I’m sure Allison will never want to come to my house. When my mother gets in the car, I’m crying. She’s breathing hard and is all shaky. We pull out into the road, and she says, “When we get home, I’ll tell you about those men.” I don’t say anything. In my mind, I see the little man yelling at my mother’s passing car. “They’re not good people, Kim.” I look down at my dirty nails. “Does Heidi have a white robe?” She doesn’t answer me right away. She looks at me through the mirror by her head and says, “No. But she pays for theirs.” I lie down across the seat. Everything has made me so tired. The rocks push against my leg, and my foot pains in beats. I face the seat, my back curved toward my mother. The tip on the plastic seat is scratchy on my cheek, so I push off the door with my feet and inch my head closer to the other door, so the rip is under my shoulder. “I’m sorry the day didn’t turn out like you wanted.” She waits for me to say something back – even though she didn’t ask me anything. I try to control her with my brain: don’t say anything else, don’t say anything else. But I fail. “Sometimes you have to tell your friends that you think they’re wrong.” I straighten my legs and kick the door. “But I wanted to go to the Dairy Queen with my friends.” And why did I say that? Now she’s going to keep talking to me. Talking, talking, talking. She makes a sucking sound with her teeth, and I cringe. “I know, sweetheart. But Crystal Jones is your friend, right?” “Yes.” Because, you haven’t chased he away, I want to say. “Twenty years ago, Crystal wouldn’t have been allowed in the Dairy Queen, just because she has dark skin.” My heart speeds up like it did when I stood on the ledge. “But people said that wasn’t fair, and we changed the laws so that everyone could go to public places like that.” I run my finger through the crease of the seat, feeling dirt and the edge of a penny while she talks. “Those men Heidi gave money to liked it better when people like Crystal couldn’t go to the Dairy Queen.” My stomach feels sick again. Like the time I ate a whole bag of jellybeans and went round and round and round on the monkey swing. The car slows down and clicks. I sit up to see my mother turning off the road into the Kroger parking lot. “I need to get a few things at the grocery store. It’s too hot for you to sit in the car.” I step out of the car. I really have to pee now. I’m dizzy walking across the hot concrete. I wish mom would wear shorts into the store. I walk behind her, thinking about a Dairy Queen with bad teeth who orders the guards to throw Crystal and her mother out. Mom waits for me by the Coke machine. “Would you like a Coke?” She digs through her brown leather purse before I tell her that I do. When the bottle falls, she steps aside. She knows I like to stick it under the opener and take the cap off. I take a sip and the Coke fizzles in my mother and burns my chest. As soon as we step into the cold store, I say, “I have to go to the bathroom.” Mom takes me to the back corner where the meats are. The hanging hams smell like salt and smoke. She takes my Coke and knocks on the door, then opens it. It’s as dark as a cave in there. I stand still while my mother runs a hand all over the wall until she finds the light. I shut the door, knowing that she will wait for me.