Walking Home On Monday And Football

February 24, 2010
I took my time walking to my locker today and took in the atmosphere. The bell just rang and my fellow classmates were taking books out of their lockers and putting them in their backpacks. The jocks rushed to the locker room and were getting ready for the big football game. The popular girls all stood around Chrissies’ locker and gossiped about Justin Bieber and what to wear to his concert that night. When I reached my locker I spun the knob to my combination and pulled down on my lock and it clicked. I reached in and grabbed my math textbook and notebook. I shoved them into my backpack and pulled out my black hoodie sweatshirt and put it on. I shut my locker, put on the lock, heard the click and sauntered down the hall. When I reached the door I walked out into the cool, crisp October afternoon. It had been two weeks since my mom has picked me up from school. She has to work four extra hours because her co-worker just had twins and has to cut work early to take care of them. Now I have to walk home every Monday, Tuesday and Friday. The other days my grandma picks me up and brings me to her house until my mother gets home.

“Jessie! Wait up!” yelled Susan. Susan. She is a subject herself, well maybe what she wears. Even though she is the only girl in the whole high school who will wear neon green sneakers and dappled florescent pink tee shirts she is my best friend. She is a great abstract artist and is very eloquent. Susan also tells everyone what is on her mind.

“You are the only one who doesn’t call me Jessica I hope you know,” I whispered.

“Thanks, that makes me feel different. But a good different,” Susan giggled as she handed me half her strawberry pop-tart.
“You just like to feel different don’t you?” I asked.
“No, I like to stand out,” she said proudly. I was not even going to respond.
“Watch out. The football players are coming,” she informed me.

We both stepped along the edge of the sidewalk and behind us we heard the tapping of cleats on the ground. The football players came sprinting past us and I looked away. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Jason glance at us and smiled as if to say “hi”. I felt my cheeks heating up like a fire was building on my face. Jason is the football captain and the cutest boy in the school (Well I think so. Chrissie thinks Jared is the cutest, so there is no competition for me because whatever Chrissie thinks so does everyone else). He is a junior like me, loves sports and is cool. Unfortunately I am not cool. I don’t hang out with geeks but not with the popular crowd either.
“Wow, Jason. I thought you liked Chris, or was that last year?” Susan questioned me after the boys were way ahead of us.
“I think I had a better chance with Chris than Jason,” I sighed after a long moment.
“It’s okay to like people. Hey, will you come to the game with me? No one else I hang out with that I know is going?” she pleaded.
“I don’t-“
“Jason will be there. Come on it will be fun,” Susan cut me off. “Think about it okay!” Susan turned the corner on Maple Avenue and headed down her street. I watched her walk away slowly and I waved goodbye.

When I got home I looked in the fridge for another snack. It was all monotonous; grapes, peanut butter, cheese, milk and water. I thought about calling Beijing Kitchen but then I saw the pot roast that was on the counter in a plastic container, left over from last night. I heated it up and sat down. I stirred it for a while and slurped it up. I didn’t want the meat or vegetables so I just drank the broth. When I was finished I checked the time. My mom should have been home already I thought. After cleaning up I got out my math homework when my mother walked.

“Hi sweetie. How was school?” my mom asked.

“Good. I saw Jason today. He smiled at me,” I replied.

“Sorry I’m late I got caught in traffic,” she explained. My mother and I are so close. We tell each other everything. That’s why I told my mom about Jason. “Did you say anything to him?” she said nonchalance. Boys are not her thing. That is the only thing I hardly talk about around her.

“No,” I said. My cell phone rang the theme song to Star Wars signaling that I got a text. I looked at it. It was form Susan. It said:

R u comin or not? On cold bleachers.
Bring me a sweatshirt!!!!! And get ur butt
down here!!!!!

What choice did I have?

“Mom can you drive me to the football game?” I asked.

“Sure, just get a sweatshirt,” she told me.

I ran to my room and got two indispensable sweatshirts and the bubble gum. We both got in the car and drove to the high school. As I got out of the car I walked up to get in. Luckily the line was short and I only had to wait two minutes. I paid my five dollar fee and looked for Susan. It was very eerie standing alone in the freezing cold looking for my best friend. I felt some eyes look at me. I pretended I couldn’t see them and walked around the field. I stopped and watched the crowd do the wave because our team scored. In the heat of the moment like a foray Susan come up behind me and I jumped.

“Scared a little?” she said sarcastically. “I saved us a spot on the bleachers. Let’s go,”

We walked over to the bleachers and I stopped short. Susan saved us seats right behind where our team players were on the bench.

“Are you crazy?” I yelled amongst the cheers of the crowd, “We can’t sit there. It’s too close to the team,”

“This is your only chance to be by Jason. If you like it or not we are sitting there,” she demanded.

We got up on the bleachers and sat down. The team sprinted over to the bench a yelled “great job” at Jeff, who scored the touchdown. The coach settled everyone down and was discussing the new game plan when my cell phone rang. Star Wars music floated to the teams ears and they turned around. My face, yet again turned red. I tried to hide my identity by enveloping my head and putting on my hood.

“Cool ringtone. I love Star Wars,” complemented Jason.

I obliterated my hood and replied, “Thanks,” then popped in my mouth a piece of gum.

They all went back to the game. When it was over the score was fifty two to twenty four.

After the game I started to walk home. I was half way to my house when I heard someone running behind me. I thought it was Susan coming to yell at me for not waiting for her, but I wanted to get away from Jason so I wouldn’t have to confront him.

Since I thought it was her I said harshly, “If you are coming to yell at me for not waiting don’t. I left because I didn’t want to see Jason. And yes I like him so don’t flip out on because you got seats behind where he was sitting!” There was no answer. I turned around to see if she left because of what I said. It was Jason who was behind me, not Susan. I felt like I should have vanished.

“Really?” asked Jason.

“Ummm, yeah,” I said embarrassedly. I couldn’t believe I said that to his face and in person. I turned to see if anyone else was there to witness it. Nope, it was just him and I on the sidewalk alone. “Won’t your friends make fun of you if they saw you hanging out with me?”

“I don’t see my friends and anyway I kind of like you too,” he said. Jason’s face started to turn red after he said that.

“Is that why you were being so nice to me?” I asked.

“Yes… can I walk you home?” he questioned.

I said, “You kind of are,”

“Well I mean on Mondays. When you walk home alone or will your friends make fun of you?” he said sneeringly.

“The friends I hang out with won’t mind,” I said thinking of Susan and the bleachers incident.

“Well then, I better go. The championship winners’ party is tonight. I’ll see you Monday,” he said cheerfully.

I started to walk back to my house when Jason came running back with a piece of paper and handed it to me. Before I could say anything he was gone again. I opened the crinkled brown paper. It was Jason’s’ cell phone number. I smiled to myself and put the paper in my pocket. I opened my phone and called Susan. I had to tell her what just happened. While I waited for her to answer I thought about how my Mondays defiantly going to be different, but a good different

Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

Site Feedback