I saw her expression, I could feel the butterflies flutter in her stomach. I heard the girls on the field yelling at each other. I know she has been playing this game for over 9 years, yet every time I watch her on the sidelines she wiggles around nervously. She makes us believe its her first game. When the ref blew his whistle I could see the smile that spread across her face. You could see the joy rush to the surface. She ran to right defense and took her position. The whistle blew. She starts running the girls yelling at one another. The anticipation lingering in the air. The black and white ball gliding on the surface. You could see the aggression of the other team bubble up. They yell and scream and push. I could see that she was in danger. Her fragile bones couldn’t take a hit.

Just as that thought passed through my mind I could see her laying on the ground. I could see her fighting against gravity to get up. Seeing the grasping of her wrist. The will to get up overpowered the laws of gravity and she pushed herself up. Stumbling to the sidelines. But, that’s not her, she would keep playing if she could. She would fight through any pain to finish just one game.

“She better not have broke her wrist!” My aunt interrupted.

My mind coming out of a daze. I could see the puzzling face of my cousin sitting next to me. She leaned forward in a concerned manner. “Oh crap, tennis” she cut in. “Thank god it’s her left wrist” she declared as the realization set in. “She looks fine, it doesn't look like she is crying” she spoke as the relief kicked in.
“I am not so sure, it looks like they are looking for me.” My aunt declared.

By that point in time our legs were lifting us off the bleachers and we were no longer sitting down. We were walking as fast as we could. I glance to my right and I could see that her long brown ponytail was not standing up on her head anymore, and that her gold and blue jersey was all wrinkled. But, all I really noticed was her straight face and the illusion of her laughing. By the time my brain could comprehend what was really going, on my cousin and I were sitting on the bench watching her walk towards us tears streaming down her face.

The urge to stand and walk to her was unbearable. She was my best friend and she looked like she was in pain. All I wanted to do was help her. But all I could feel was my stomach fluttering. The lingering pinch of a punch still on my chest. But all I will ever remember is what she said after she left the bench and her team,
“I didn't want them to see me cry”