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Garden Party This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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   The sun had just fallen behind the shortest building and nothing was left but the cool air settling on us. The narrow alley was dark now, for it was a late winter day. March 13th. The heavy door swayed open with much effort and led directly into the old, run-down, historic building. The concrete stairs were short and stubby, not to mention quite steep, and our anxiety rose with each and every step. At the top of what seemed to be a million stairs, we spied an entrance to the enchanting building. The beams of light creaked from the small, straight crack under the heavy door. Our hearts were racing at unbelievable velocities, our nerves screaming out of our thrilled bodies.

This door directed us into a wide, austere, empty yellow hallway. The tiled floor beneath our dress shoes was uneven, probably because the building had sagged during its past hundred years. Finally, we approached the doors we had been dreaming about opening for the last three months!

We all took a deep breath and pulled the two doors open. The brightness jumped out and hugged us, drew us in, enraptured us all at once. The aura of the place seeped under our skin, and our hearts skipped a couple of beats. Our jaws immediately dropped uncontrollably and slowly transformed into magnificent smiles of pleasure and satisfaction. The glitter in our eyes sparkled ever so brightly at entering this enormous new world inside our own world, as the thick, musty, recycled air sifted up our nostrils.

When we entered the locker room, our curiosity temporarily preoccupied us as we carefully explored the austere room for evidence of left-behind trinkets. Our excitement and anxiety were screaming to escape from our bodies as we all clustered together. We quickly grew tense and impatient, waiting for the clock to click down so we could move on.

Finally we were beckoned to make our entrance. As we were again led down the wide hallway to the large, heavy doors, our nerves finally settled into our stomachs. The doors opened and all at once we ran through the tunnel onto the court. Our hearts were beating a million beats a minute and everything was happening too fast.

The old, wooden parquet floor creaked with every footstep and howled with every bounce of the ball. Our nerves, now trying to escape through jitters, were so deep it was our excitement's turn to shine. Proud smiles and excited laughter filled our satisfying surroundings. The muffled, overpowering sound from the horn drowned out the loud crowd's screams and cheering and clapping, and the game began: 5:00, Monday, March 13, 1995 in the Boston Garden.

My team had finally made it. We set our goal, thrived, and worked hard all season, and succeeded. We had been invited to "A Garden Party." c


This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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