My Cardboard Balcony

It was called the Patriotic Maze, though it felt anything but. The mayor figured that the corn maze from the Halloween fair should simply be redone for every holiday, which included Christmas, Valentine's Day (though a lot of families were against that, given what some couples did in the maze), and of course, the fourth of July. I was weaving through a nightmare of withered, drought-stricken cornstalks while tiny American flags waved around listlessly in the summer breeze above my head.

  by Belinda Roddie Stacy and Annie watched as their car slid down the hill and disappeared over the cliff. "Bonerkiller," whispered Stacy. "Totally," Annie replied, wrinkling her nose and stuffing her hands into the pockets of her camo pants. "So what do we do now?" Stacy shrugged one shoulder beneath her sleeveless jean vest. "Get high, I guess?" Forgetting at least for a while that they no longer had a way to get to the fireworks show - or back to civilization, for that matter, not to mention the fact that the car had been Stacy's brother's car and to buy a new one was equivalent to donating both your kidneys - the two girls lit up and sat on the edge of the cliff overlooking the beach. They stared down at their beaten up jalopy, which had landed into an abandoned sandy dune, resting on its side with its tires spinning slowly to a lazy stop on their now bent up axles. Stacy passed the joint to Annie, who took in the fumes and