Make Judgements - How does Don Anselmo's sense of duty and honor conflict with the narrator's? Who is right? On what basis can you make that decision?

I think that Don Anselmo is right. The reason for that is because firstly, the narrator asked to buy the land, but he never went into details about what he was about to buy. Therefore if there was any fault, it would be his for not inquiring the properties of the land or about the land itself, for he only talked about doubling the price of the land and trying to convince Don Anselmo to take the option. Secondly, Don Anselmo had a sense of duty and honor because the trees were not his, so if he did sell them because it was on his land, he would lose his duty of keeping the trees there for his descendants, which will make him a not very honorable man, and we did not know that until the very end when he explained about how his mother and himself had planted a tree for a child, and how the orchard belonged to the children of the village. The narrator never asked of the trees, so there was no reason for Don Anselmo to answer it, for it did not belong to him anyway. So overall, Don Anselmo was right for not saying what he could have said at the beginning.


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1. We're always fighting over the clothes we think are cute, but since we're best friends we both come down to a negotiation before the friendship turns into nothing.

2. The grands of sand on Long Beach are innumerable.

3. The United States of America has lots of states, in which all has boundaries to claim their own property.

4. We are the modern descendants of monkeys.

1. I squeezed through the crowd as my heart thumped louder with each beat. When I got there, people we're scattering away from the dead body; the commotion was over.

2. The zig-zagged lines across the screen started to turn straight with a beeping sound that was so earsplitting, it might've cracked the nearby window. The test foundered and the person was not with us anymore.

3. I slowly stepped into the room; clothes were dumped on the floor, perfume bottles dropped and broken, the furniture all crooked. My heart sank just looking at the ruin.

4. The land was quiet and calm after a long day of hard rain, and sea surrounding the island was inert.

Make Judgements - Do you think Terry made the right decision about questioning his father on his experiences in Vietnam? Why or why not?

I think Terry made the right decision because without knowing the reason why his father was acting strange, Terry would still have that feeling of embarrassment. Understanding what his father went through made him feel empathetic for his father, and that is important because it is better to understand people before you judge them. Terry tried to imagine what his father went through as he was telling the story, and he was feeling it as well, being able to step into his father's shoes and finally realizing that he was wrong for being mortified of his father. I think knowing the motivations of someone before judging them creates a sense of realization and understanding, and that's what made Terry's choice correct.


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“Daddy, look out!” I shrieked and shielded my eyes as the car jerked right and my seatbelt tightened. The car bounced to a stop as my body flopped back down to the creamy-beige leather seat.

“Liana, what is it?!” My Dad’s hands were still on the steering wheel as he glared at me with horrific eyes. I twisted my neck back to find the little girl in a flowery dress I saw five seconds ago, who was now nowhere to be seen. My jaw dropped open as I cried,

“Daddy, you ran over the little girl holding Curious George!” I rubbed my eyes and fixed my strawberry blond hair.

“Honey, there was no one there,” he looked at me with suspicion, then squirmed back in his seat and adjusted his seatbelt, “Maybe it was just your imaginations. I’ve got to get you to school or we’ll both be late.”

I opened my mouth to protest but something caught my eye in the side mirror. The little girl waved, shrinking slowly as we headed the opposing direction.

I peered through my side-bangs to see the lunch lady smiling, “Liana, hamburger?”

I murmured a ‘thank you’ and ran off looking for a seat. It was only the second week of ninth grade and still, I had no friends. Spotting a redhead sitting alone, I decided to make her feel comfortable. I placed my food onto the wooden table and claimed the seat next to her. “Hi, I’m Liana Crown, and you must be…?”

She swiftly pushed her carrot-colored bangs out of her eyes, “I’m Margaret.”

We chatted for a while, and I found out that she was also born here in Atlanta, Georgia. She had a love for cats and used to go to this school. Wait… used to?!

Suddenly, the whole cafeteria was drowned with giggles and snorts. I glanced up to see what was going on, only to find that everyone was laughing at me.

“What a weirdo!”

“She must be a real loser.”

“Principal Adams, Liana Crown is talking to herself!”

Margaret quickly mouthed an apology and lightly touched my shoulder. It went right through me. Startled, I jumped up and started running out, down the hall and outside into the streets. Soon, I could hear footsteps right behind me. Five or six white-coated arms attacked me and a huge stabbing pain numbed my whole body.

Andrew Bale. That was who he said he was. He was sixteen. His shaggy brown hair was in disarray, but his emerald green eyes shone brightly against his tan skin. He said he was a sorcerer. He told me I was in a School for the Supernatural disguised as a mental hospital just to keep the normality on Earth. He really was ill.

            That night, I lie in a canary yellow bed, in a sky blue-painted room. The lights were out but I could see the neon stars stuck onto the ceiling. How long did they say I had to stay here for? I closed my eyes and cleared my mind completely.

“Liana, I need your help.”

My eyes shot open. Hovering above me was an old man; his face was bruised and covered with scars and scratches. His ragged clothes were bloody and ripped and stained with dirt. I let out a yelp then quickly covered my mouth before I woke anyone up.

“Who are you and how do you know my name?!”

“I’m Russell. I died two years ago because I was beat up and shot, and my wife has been lonely and miserable ever since. So would you give her this letter I wrote a week before I was killed? It’s like my will.”

            Backing up slowly, I sprung out of bed and charged pass the old man to the window. I struggled to open the window as he grabbed my arm… or tried to. It went right through! I stared at him with a look I had on when I found out my boyfriend cheated on me with my best friend, a mixture of disgust and horror. He retreated. “Please, Liana. I can’t step into the light yet, my business with the living is not done. Please.”

            I climbed out the window and slid down the pipe. A few cuts and burns but I survived. I speeded across the lawn and was about to lift myself up onto the iron gates when my leg was seized by an unbelievably strong grip. I landed in Andrew’s arms and he carried me into the backyard and dropped me. The night sky turned a shade of dark purple and the stars were scattered among the galaxy and beyond.

“What do you want?!” I snapped, brushing off the dirt on my bum.

“You’re a necromancer. You can call for and raise the dead, you can help souls with their unfinished business,” he stopped short. “What you’ve been seeing isn’t your imaginations. You’re seeing ghosts. You need to learn how to control your powers or you’ll accidentally summon a soul back into its decomposed body without knowing how to set it free. Take the necromancers’ class. You’ll know more.” He smiled. He was cute… for a mental patient.

            A few days later everything was normal again. Russell kept showing up now and then. It must be my schizophrenic imaginations, because his filthy image was unforgettable. I was finishing up with breakfast when my Dad showed up.

“Daddy!” Joy filled my body and my heart did somersaults as I ran over to give him a big hug. He dodged. Confused, I asked, “Daddy, what’s wrong? Don’t you miss me? Please tell me you’re here to take me away from this place.”

Andrew entered from the living room, “Liana, a letter arrived a few minutes ago… saying that your Dad died in a car accident,” he paused. “I’m sorry.”

The smile on my face disappeared and a look of shock replaced it. My eyes went blurry and my lip quivered as I put all the pieces of the puzzle together.

The little girl with Curious George, Margaret, Russell; they were all souls no one saw. They were souls with unfinished business, unable to cross over. I was a necromancer. I could hear them, I could see them, and I could help them.

            Facing the fact, I slowly lifted my hands up to touch my Dad’s familiar face. Tears rolled down my cheek as I felt nothing. I stood there, crying hard and taking deep breaths. Andrew, who realized what was going on, came to my side and stroke my back. He was right all this time.

            I took one last deep breath and the crying hiccups ceased temporarily as I spoke, “I… love you, Daddy.” I turned and dashed upstairs into my room before my heart can permanently break. Andrew was close behind. I crouched down to the floorboard near the window where Russell dropped his letter trying to restrain me the other night.

“What are you doing? And what is that?” Andrew narrowed his brows as he tried to read the penmanship on the antique, yellowed paper.

            My eyes stung, and I quickly wiped away the snot and tears off my face with the sleeve of my shirt. “I’m going to give this to Russell’s wife. This was what I was meant for, right? To help souls go on. And as soon as I come back, I’m going to take that class for necromancers. My life won’t be normal anymore. But so what? This is my normal.”

Andrew smiled, “Let me get my keys.”