New Student Writing: "The Fruit, the Peel, the Seeds"

Posted on May 05, 2025

Last spring, author Marco Avilés visited New York to lead writing workshops in high schools around the city. During the sessions, Avilés guided students to write about firsts and new experiences. Ren, an 11th grader in Brooklyn, wrote a beautiful response piece that uses symbolism and lyrical language to explore faith and coming of age. You can read her writing below! —Eds. 

The Fruit, the Peel, the Seeds

The scent of ripe oranges and distilled prayer engulfed the Sabbath school. Before and after service the children ran between the rows of orange trees, plucking them off the branches and devouring them, leaving trails of peels back to the church. The juices left us with stained hands and dresses, which would have left sticky residue on Bibles and velvet pews. Instead we were left to the Sabbath school. It was hardly a school, just the few leftover rooms on the west end of my rundown Floridian church. 

This particular room was small, with only a few chairs. The main attraction was the large window, which I was only recently tall enough to see through, displaying the ongoing church service. This room was very dark compared to the compelling light which ran its fingers through the main room. Large windows from ceiling to floor let in the sun. I could almost hear what the preacher was saying, but would it have mattered? I knew I wouldn't understand. I watched the people sit, and stand, and sit again, as the preacher waved his arms and commanded: “Pongámonos todos de pie para cantar a nuestro padre Dios.” I watched the people sway and the musicians play, and I wondered when I would be included. I hoped it would be soon and never, both at once. I knew I could sing with them, but I wondered if I would sound good.

I knew I had outgrown the loud playing the children around me enjoyed, climbing on furniture and roughhousing. I knew it wasn't right, not in la casa de Dios. But I was not sure if I had grown into quiet either, the sitting patiently and waiting to be told to stand. I was sure I didn't know rightness yet. When the holy men spoke I found it impossible to understand. Maybe it was that my small mind couldn't wrap itself around such concepts. How the father and son and spirit could be one and separate. My father said it was like the fruit, peel, and seeds, but much grander. I wondered how that could be true, when we eat the fruit and spit the seeds and toss the peel. Maybe it was that I couldn't follow along with the service in the Bible because I would only learn to read and write in Spanish in 6 more years, because my mother would never teach me. I desperately wanted to read the only section that mattered to me, the one my father was named after: “Libro Dos: Marcos.” I would only read it 10 years later, when my father taught me. I would read it in English, where it is called Mark.

I wondered a lot in that room. I found myself very often simply looking around and waiting to grow older. Waiting to know what is right and wrong. I got my first idea of it when I was waiting, and watching, and happened to look too closely at a mother changing a baby on a table. This was the first time I had ever seen a penis. I knew for the very least that was wrong. I would learn years later that it is a sin, with words to describe it: “testigo de la desnudez.” Instead I looked at my fingers, and of course couldn't help but notice the similarity. I tried to pick the orange residue off them. I tried to pick the similarity off them. “Querido Dios y Jesus por favor déjame olvidar lo que vi. Gracias. Amen.” I wondered when I would learn to pray like my mom, knowing just how to speak to God and Jesus. I wondered if the Holy Spirit felt left out of my prayers. I wondered who was the fruit, who was the peel, and who was the seed. I wondered when they would let me sing in the choir. I wondered if I would sound good. I wondered if I was the fruit, peel, or seeds. I wondered when I would understand.

By Ren, high school student, Brooklyn, NY

Do you have budding authors in your classroom? Have they produced work inspired by literature from WWB? Let's talk!