- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
Tick, tock. Tick tock.
That's all I here. I'm in last period Spanish, waiting for the bell to ring. I'm supposed to be writing a letter to the teacher in Spanish, telling her our problems then translating, but obviously i can't concentrate.
I have had possibly the worst day in the history of my life. My stomach churns as I think about it. My gym clothes (and I mean all of them) were thrown about the boys locker room. My bra was tucked in a boy's locker, and my shorts hung from the ceiling.
My so-called best friend turned on me after this, saying she couldn't be seen with someone who would embarrass her. So I now basically had no friends left.
My parents had left me about four years ago. They died in a plane crash and left me the house and everything they owned, but I never had to pay the mortgage, bills, or rent on our apartment. I had no living relatives. So now I go home to an empty house everyday.
And to top it all off, today was my birthday. The one person who said "Happy Birthday" to me was no other than my art teacher, Mr. Martinez. I had always been his top student, winning contests and getting good grades. If I say so myself, I am a pretty good artist.
But it was the same every year. No hugs, no birthday cakes, no presents. It had been like this forever. And it would never change.
Oh, how wrong I was. When I got home, I discovered a large package sitting in the front. I lifted it up and discovered it was surprisingly light. I let myself in and dropped my bags.
I found the scissors and tore into it. There was a large, decorative box inside. I opened the box and discovered another box.
It went on like this for about seven more boxes. When I reached the last box, I was exhausted. I pulled out a silver heart shaped locket with my name (Kaitlyn) and a heart engraved on the front. There was a small note and an even smaller picture. The picture was a bright purple flower amongst gray tree bark.
The note read: "You stand out beautifully, like this flower. From, Someone." I was shocked. I had never gotten a secret gift before! I was determined to figure out who it was.
The next week at school, I recorded what guys had girlfriends and who didn't. Geeks, none. Jocks and populars, tons. It couldn't have been a geek.
The jocks, maybe. I used to be friends with a lot of them.
Over the weekend, I decided to go skating. There was a pond that froze completely over in town and was a local hang out for the high schoolers.
I tossed my hockey skates, my stick, a hockey helmet, some gloves, and thick socks into a hockey bag. If you couldn't tell, I used to play hockey. I also grabbed my cellphone. You know, just in case.
I drove over and parked next to a blue Mustang. I felt slightly out of place in my simple black Honda, but whatever.
As I sat on the bench and laced up my skates, I saw the two most popular hockey players arguing in the middle of the pond. It looked like there was a pick up game going on.
I skated over, my skates and gloves on, casually listening. It sounded as though the teams were uneven.
Without even thinking, I said, "I'll play." All the guys looked at me. Then Tom, a tall, bulky player, spoke.
"You?! A girl?! Play with us?? Aren't you scared you'll break a nail?" he jeered. All the guys howled with laughter, although it wasn't that funny.
"No, I'm not scared. Let me play." I was getting aggravated with them.
The other captain, Jack, interuppted. "Let her play. If she gets hurt, not our fault." I skated to get my stick and helmet triumphantly.
As I approached the guys, I did an impressive hockey stop, showering the boy next to me with snow. He glared, then moved to play the game.
The puck was dropped, and Trent, the center, was off with the puck. I could read the play and saw that he was going to be hit by the defense.
"Trent, pass!" I shouted. But he didn't listen. He passed to Tom, but failed. The defense passed to a wing, and that wing was off. He easily zig-zagged around our defense and scored.
I hated being scored on or beaten or just ignored. On the next set up, I played center. I got the puck and skated down. I was close to the goal, when suddenly...WHAM! I was checked from behind and fell on my stomach.
The wind was knocked out of me as I lay on the ground, gasping for breath. The guys crowded around me and pointed and laughed.
I noticed Chess, the defense, laughing the hardest. I realized he had cross-checked me from behind. I was furious. I had been humiliated enough that week. I jumped to my skates, surprising all the guys. I was going to prove myself.
We started and I took off like the speed of light, swerving here, handling there. I was at the net and the goalie came out. I passed it neatly through his legs and went around the other side.
I pulled a turn, lifted my stick, lifted the puck, put the puck down, and shot a gorgeous wrist shot. The puck went in the top right corner, hitting the net with a swish.
I turned around and skated back to the guys. They looked at me with astonishment, their jaws gaping. I looked at them smugly, smiled, and got ready to start again.
My point had been made. I was just as good as those guys. I was ready for anyone.