I'm Scared of Heights | ONC 2023 ✔️

1) The Rocket Launches at 4:40

Natalie

My eyes flash to the puff-filled South Carolinian sky in a lame attempt to weld blockers to my senses. My hands latch themselves across the back of my head, where I proceed to tighten my elastic. Logically, it would be senseless of me to believe I could eradicate my ability to hear. A scowl crosses my face. Curling my tongue to the roof of my mouth, I force myself to lane two and stare at two of the coaches, debating with myself.

"Aaron is so cute! I can't believe he, the flipping quarterback, asked me to the dance!" The tail end of the junior's blabbing clouds as my gaze drifts past the yellow goalpost and beyond the middle school group practicing handoffs. Ninety degrees to my figure, the locker room of sweat hogs, or rather the football troop, resides, renowned for its unique fragrance of bodily fluids.

She could do much better than that lying, cheating, self-righteous pig.

He could do much better than a stuck-up, pick-me girl with lies as white as her teeth.

Yet, the two will likely stay hooked until a birthday or Christmas when commitment issues become evident. Crushes don't work. High school sweethearts can't coexist with sanity. True love can't draw a breath of oxygen. If anything, true love breathes methane and nitric oxide. The concept parallels the instant microwavable properties of popcorn, casting char in the air after a hot manifestation and creation, meaning that carbon dioxide and monoxide have been produced in this radioactive environment. Now, the popcorn absorbs energy, this so-called love. While there isn't any water anymore, the hearts present.

The predicament is startling and perhaps disgusting. No, not my nuclear wasteland. Theirs. My teammates and their infatuations of "love". People haven't mastered decency yet. Whatever that's supposed to mean.

Studying the blue and orange-painted locker room is a world of entertainment compared to buzzing in on the four chattering away. The practice has never worked well for me. Maybe I would stand oblivious as my two siblings do if I hadn't committed that felony.

"Hey, Nat!" My name is Natalie. Not Nat like a gnat. I compel myself to acknowledge the shrill voice, engaging her with an insipid nod. "What do you think about me and Aaron? He's so sweet."

Aaron and me, Lacey. Pursing my lips, I glance at the coaches for rescue. Has it not been a minute thirty? "He is a pompous buffoon who will shatter your heart," I answer, saving the cushion. He didn't even notice you until Scramble. Which, in itself, makes a dissatisfying case. Curse that scandalous dating app of the century.

"He is not!" Lacey huffs, throwing her hands up. "He's a gentleman, opening doors for the ladies." She accompanies her statement with an upturned nose and increasingly colored cheeks. "He's real special."

OCD and germophobia exist, you bonehead. "Right." I give a curt nod. "Prince charming isn't a hopeless flirt and a double-crossing friend."

"It wasn't his fault that Ted's secret got out!" The Lacie with red hair joins the junior Lacey.

No, Aaron couldn't help opening his big, fat chomper. Curse people and their gossip-deprived souls.

"She's just jealous she doesn't have a boyfriend," Lacie mutters while junior Lacey's eyes coat in a shiny glaze. Why haven't the cheerleading fanatics quit yet?

It's simply too easy to deny your proposal, Lacie. The male species is overrated, along with your unconscionable gossip and social bullying. No crush will last, you boneheads. If you believe love will prevail, you haven't had your heart mutilated. You don't know what it's like. That, or you are insane.

Insanity is repeating the same mistakes and expecting different results. That's what Narcotics Anonymous stated in their 1981 pamphlet. I have to agree.