Rocket | H.S

twelve

I would like to strongly disclaim (probably again) That i have no idea on how the olympics go behind the scenes, this is pure fiction and to be taken as just that. i adjust things and tweak a little here and there, to fit with my storyline, please do not take every detail into judgment and just try and enjoy the stroy itself xx

I almost felt a little insecure with the choice of clothing I'm wearing.

As we all wait around the bus as the driver packs all of our sports bags away, I observe everyone wearing the complete usual attire. I'm not really one to care normally, but now I feel as if I'm trying to show off my privilege - even if it's no where near the case.

Everyone is wearing leggings, sweatpants or bike shorts, like you would expect a bunch of professional athletes to. Some wear hoodies, others wear singlets.

I could pin point one or two people who also stood out, maybe wearing something a little more casual like jeans. I wasn't like them at all though...

I stood here in a flowy white dress. I'm sure no one knows the price of it, as it is just a casual white summer dress. My mind is going into slight overload with the truth lingering around in my brain.

Harry purchased this for me when I started loosing my pregnancy weight and wanted to dress up nicely again. I wanted to wear it today as I saw my best friend and daughter, in hopes we'd go out today.

I just stood out a little. Making me naturally a little anxious.

My breathing has calmed me down, trying to collect on why I was wearing this specific piece. That's when I relax for a solid thirty seconds, because it's all for my little baby girl. I shouldn't have to be uncomfortable in what I wear, truly no one gives a fuck either.

Speaking realistically that is.

It's for my little daughter, It's not for them, it's not for the camera. It's all for her.

Nothing bad was going to happen to me. 

It's just the aura of standing around, standing around a large group of people who you don't know whether to make conversation with or not. Faith is taking the three o'clock bus, as for me I'm taking the 11AM one purely to get home as quickly as possible to my two girls. 

She doesn't have her father, half the time she doesn't. We don't blame ourselves for that, or anyone else – it's just the matter of fact and we work around what we can. 

As I see people heading on, I make the quick judged decision to walk to the front of the bus. The anxiety filled mind I have fills with questions that are going to make my blood run cold, because I can only ever think of the worst-case scenario. 

I hope it doesn't seem like I'm pushing in at all. Does it? All I want to do is ask a question...

"Oh hey," I come up to the driver and one of the organizers of the Australian Athletics Team. "I'm happy to wait my turn and all, but I get quite serous motion sickness, was it all good if I reserved a seat at the front to avoid any chaos?" 

They look at me with gentle eyes. I had nothing to worry about, I just worry anyway. 

"Polly, thank you for asking but you really didn't have to. That is completely fine, you can board now if you'd like. Our bags are packed?" He looks at me up and down as I hold a few things in my hand, that I had all intentions of bringing on the bus with me. 

The bus ride is only just over an hour long, but I always need my diary, pillow and a small pencil case filled with stationery, pads and tampons, credit card and little sweets that can fit in my pocket.