BOOTH BOY

The Turning Point...

The school day drags on and on with no care for my lack of enthusiasm or energy. I'd been up all night the night before, stalking Colby Bengsston's Instagram and reading convulted dark Wattpad stories.

Now, exhausted, I sleep with my head on my desk, ignoring the noise of the classroom, in a semi-conscious state of half dream - half reality.

I linger in that limbo in a weird sensation of barely having control over myself or my surroundings but being lucid enough to understand the world I'd subconsciously created was nothing but fantasy. Being 17 was not easy.

Marina shakes me out of my reverie, physically shaking my shoulders and whisper-yelling in my ear,"Get up! The teachers here!"

Groggily, I drag my head up and stare listlessly at Mrs Carson."Good morning, Aileen. How nice of you to join us."

Frankly, I dont give a damn. I hold back a yawn, nodding my head in response and cover my face with my hands. How embarrasing?

I'm in a contradictory position of most average teenagers in which I both care, tremendously, and also do not. It's very baffling. Do I want to be loved and accepted or not? If I did, would that be a bad thing? If I didn't, won't I become cold and callous, perhaps maybe even arrogant?

With no cares for my internal dilemma, Mrs Carson instructs us to retrieve our History textbooks and summarise yesterday's assigned readings. After digging around in my bag hopelessly, Marina offers to share her textbook with me so we both folded arms, lean over it and read, daydream, drift off into space until our names are called and I have to shamefully admit that I had, not in fact completed the reading.

The lesson passes like all those before and I'm relieved the second we're walking out of the class. We're the last ones to leave because Marina takes forever to pack away her things and as I stand over her desk, I can feel the critical eye of Mrs Carson watching me from her table.

I am clearly treading dangerous waters in terms of my academics. I've fallen into one of those moods I get in when all I wanted to do was obsess over things that didn't exist in my life to console myself over whatever traumatic experience I'm avoiding.

Dad moved out. Mom says it's only temporary. Yesterday he came around to pick up the last few boxes and trinkets. Mom wasn't talking about it, pretending to be all civil and nonchalant but Alina's been crying, throwing tantrums, ranting, fighting this seperation with every breath she took. I look at her sometimes and see myself. Exhausted.

"Come on", Marina heaves her bag up over her shoulders and stares at me, expectantly. I take her hand, avoid looking in the general direction of Mrs Carson and lead her out into the hallway.

We go to our lockers, leave our bags in and then head to the girls locker rooms. There's a school game today. We're playing our rivals, Wasatch High, and the tensions and stakes are both incredibly high. Miners up against Wasps. If we won this game, we would qualify for nationals . It was a big deal and everyone in Town was probably in the bleachers. It's the first time Park City Miners had ever gotten this far and it was all credit to Coach Benggston and his son.

The name, Bengsie, had become a chant and the player, a legend. Even while the girls and I changed into our cheer outfits and small groups chatted amongst themselves, we could still hear the roar of the stadium. His name being chanted almost as much as the name of the team. There were even talks of him going pro. Yes, I know all this because I stalked his Instagram and frequently eavesdropped on any conversation that involved his name. Yes, I know I'm a stalker. Yes, I know it's creepy. In my defence, it was done out of curiosity.

I wanted to know him and know about him. Did that really make me crazy or just normal? Afraid to walk up to him and just start up a conversation out of nowhere, I settled for much more sly ways of getting what I wanted. It didn't really harm anyone except me, I promise.

Marina and I joined the other girls in a cheer circle. We all held hands and our captain, Misty, a foxy green eyed, dark haired princess that would most likely win Prom Queen this year gave us a little speech. "We've got to cheer our asses off today! The guys need us! Cheer huddle, girls."

We all moved forward, arms around each other and chanted, "Park!Park!Park City!"
When we broke apart, Marina and I exchanged excited glances. She linked her arm with mine and we followed behind the other girls, running out onto the field.

The crowds were loud, the grass slightly wet from the evening dew and excitement was palpable in the air. The Wasatch Wasp cheer team were already out on the field in cute black and yellow sweaters and yellow pleat skirts.

The weather was perfect. The wind was a little chilly but refreshing. Above us, the sky was monotonously gray but I was sure there was some sunlight hiding behind there. Our team danced over to the Wasps. We cordially shook hands but the tension of competitiveness was clear from the stares we were giving each other.

We returned to our side of the field and started with warm up jumps. I spotted my mom in the stands. Because she's here, I know Dad wasn't going to be. It made me feel a little disappointed but I waved enthusiastically at her anyway. Alina sat beside her, arms crossed, pouting. I didn't bother to wave at her. She would ignore me anyway. Marina's dad was three rows down in a large alpaca wool cardigan.

She ran over and spoke to him before hurrying back. I grabbed her by her elbows and we simply grinned at each other. The high energy of the event had begun to rub off on me and I found my heart beating in wild anticipation. Coach Bengsston eventually made an announcement and the crowd settled. We were due to perform our routines as the players came out, during half time and obviously the winning team would have the post-celebratory cheer.

The visitors went first and we all stood around and watched the team come onto the field as the cheer team flipped around and shook their pompoms.

Finally, it was our turn. Marina and I were both middle tier cheerleaders. We took our positions and our schools anthem begin playing. While cheering, I kept one eye on the players. I waited and waited but as he was quarterback, Colby was the last to come out. The cheers all around got louder.

Even though I couldn't see his face with his helmet on, I couldn't help but think about how handsome he was, all broad shoulders and great form.

The game started off well. I will admit although I was a cheerleader, I barely understood what was going on in the game. I was just happy to see that we were winning. During half-time, while the opposing team cheered, Marina and I went over to the stalls and got ourselves cotton candy.

The second half of the game was going well until the accident happened. I still remember the exact moment. My eyes were following him across the field as he ran backwards, anticipating the ball flying towards him, his head tilted up. I remember the halfeaten cotton candy in my hand, the way my fist tightened around the wood. I remember the distinct scent of wet grass and burning sugar candy. I remember the loud cheers, my voice one amongst them, "BENGSIE!BENGSIE!BENGSIE!!", and I remember the sound. The sickening crack of bone, the full thud of him falling to the ground, the animalistic yell he let out. He tripped over himself. Somehow, between looking at the ball, running backwards and twisting to make it to touchdown, he'd overextended himself and twisted his ankle. And then another player, tripped over him and fell full force on top of him.

I remember running towards him. I remember the suddenly deafening silence of the crowd. I remember screaming, "NO!" , and the cotton candy flying from my hand. I remember Marina, grabbing me and holding me back as the medics and players rushed to his side to push the larger, heavier player off him. It all happened in slow motion.

I remember exchanging a minute quick glimpse with his father. The look of pure horror on his face as they carried his son out on a stretcher.

I remember how nothing was the same again. Everything changed that summer.