By Michelle Nedboy I knew about bees and what they did. They stung. I knew I’d get one maybe on my right knuckle or on my thigh or in the soapy hinge of my elbow, like I saw all the other kids get. I didn’t think I’d get one in my ear – the wasp’s … Continue reading First Times
By Michelle Nedboy
By Michelle Nedboy
By Michelle Nedboy
By: Michelle Nedboy The waves pound and pop over the sea of heads tanned shoulders and ruddy red eyes and eyelids little babies running naked alongside their big kid brothers and sisters hot heat blistered feet, with the skin of the soles peeling off little bits of sand wedging their way under nails, past lips … Continue reading The Beach
By: Michelle Nedboy If you fall, let yourself fall and then get right back up (try to fall on your butt). Don’t stop pedaling as you’re switching gears or the chain’ll get loose and you’ll fall. Swim close to the lifeguard. Use a dictionary—I don’t have a dictionary—here’s a dictionary. “Riccce, Krissspies,” say that, you’re … Continue reading Advice From My Peers But Mostly My Mom
By: Michelle Nedboy and Alyssa Detwiler
By: Michelle Nedboy Over the summer, I asked my mom for a book recommendation from one of her thousands of texts. She went into her home office (also known as the guest bedroom) and looked through a few of her book cabinets, which hadn’t been opened in a long while. It took some fussing, but … Continue reading AUGUST: The Book That Broke Then Healed Me
By: Michelle Nedboy It reeks of applesauce and kid sweat, the tables pushed out to the sides like bleachers. Stacks of abused board games get brought out and plunked; there are never enough pieces. Dunked, by bored genius, we turn a chess set into a disco, lose the pieces like it’s the Scooby show. Ruh-roh. … Continue reading Afterschool
By: Michelle Nedboy My grandma’s kitchen was small and squat, its oven and counters sandwiched next to each other. There was just enough room to walk, turn around and cook. The little watery window overlooked the bushes and the wheelchair ramp that I’d fly down. It overlooks the gated park of hopscotch and brick; I … Continue reading Grandma’s House
The Teller Magazine 