Get Back Up

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic


Sometimes your attitude is everything.

Submitted: March 16, 2018

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Submitted: March 16, 2018

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The ball went in. When you use your whole body to make a perfect shot, well, it's a great feeling. I dribbled once, hard and fast, and spun the ball as I lifted it into the air. Crouching, I tensed. I released the ball,  watching it veer off course. And so I tried again and again until practice was over. It was time to play the game.

I stood in the circle facing the girl in front of me. She was tall and gangly, more so than any girl on her team. Go figure. The ref threw the ball into the air. I jumped up, propelling myself with powerful leg muscles. Smack. I hit it hard. BAck and forth across the court we went. In came my sub. What did I do wrong? I shot my coach a questioning look.

“You have three fouls.” She informed me.  “I’m Saving you for the second half.”

The second half!  We were barely into the second quarter! I sat, the confusion welling higher and higher as team black racked up their points. Screech! The buzzer went off. It was halftime.

Our team filed into the locker room. I told myself that we were one team, but I am a terrible liar. They were making excuses, complaining, and overall being sore losers. I didn’t want any part of it.

We went back out onto the court. The starters were going back in, which meant that it was mine turn. I went out on the court, insecurity pushed aside for the time being. Eventually, I managed to get the ball. Driven by my desire to prove myself, I managed to make it up the court with my left hand. I tripped, and tried to fling off a wild shot. It didn’t make it. I would try so much harder next time I told myself, the thought making my whole body throb with purpose. I never got the chance.

I was put in and out, more out than in. During quarter four, I became part of the bench. All I could do was sit there and watch. I ground my teeth together, keeping my jaw set in a hard line. I remembered sitting at the boy’s basketball tournament. During one game in particular, there was a girl who kept getting pushed down. She would get right back up. Near the scoreboard, my coach, her husband, and my teacher were watching as well. I heard comments, and the accompanying agreements, about how tough that girl was.

I also recalled the time in the locker room when my best friend had gone home sick, crying because of how much she hurt. Everybody was buzzing about how bad they felt for her. She NEVER cried. She was tough.

“Me neither” I whispered. I was heard, and every person in the room disagreed with me.

Pulled back to reality by the screeching of the buzzer, I noted that the game was over. It didn’t matter. THere was a fifth quarter, only for the fifth and sixth graders sitting with our team. They had all played just as much, if not more, than seventh and eighth. Now, they had their own extra quarter.

On the car ride home, I hoped with all of my heart that we would have school the next day. I was going to work extra hard to be and outstanding student. Maybe it would help. I got to work right away when we arrived at our house. I wrote and read, read and wrote. I knew that I could not finish in time, so I pulled out the computer and did as much as I could. Eventually, I had to eat. Afterwards, it was right back to work. I finished half of the book before I had to go to bed. Shutting down the laptop, I headed upstairs, crawled into bed, and did not go to sleep. I dug into my book and scribbled furiously. Time ticked on, but no matter how numb my hand was, or how fast my heart was beating, I could not stop. Finishing one piece,  I started on my next project: and essay. That was fairly easy. The main character felt the same things I felt-acted the same way I did. At last, I was done. I had been stopped by the only thing that could have stopped me. Sleep. I piled everything together and laid my head upon my pillow. Satisfied, I drifted off into the realm of dreams. Even though I had been knocked down, I would get back up again. Every. Single. Time.

 


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