The Leftovers

Ebony Bonavia

I looked down at my scuffed shoes, the 'cool' crowd thought it was fun to annoy me for being so sporty.

I live, breathe and eat sport. I love the way you feel free as you run down a track or the way the wind goes through your hair as you pass a basketball to one of your team mates.

My life revolved around sport, but I didn't just do it for thrill. My family were a bunch of geniuses, they expected me to be a whizz at maths or great at english.

But I could barely work out a division sum, when my family got angry at me for a low report card I would run to the schools track field and run my anger off.

The cool crowd though it was weird of me for being so sporty and doing nothing but that. I was teased everyday but because of that I started playing more sport just to stop being so angry or sad.

"What have you been doing today? Other than being a complete freak about sports?" laughed one of the girls.

"At least I don't look like a clown from a nightmare"  I retorted back.

The final bell to go home went off, they gave me a final glare and grabbed their bubble gum pink bags and left.

*_*_*_*_

"I'm home!" I yelled as I slammed the front door. I threw my bag beside the door and ran up the stairs to my bedroom.

"Ebony!" my mum yelled, " Get down here now"

I sighed and walked into the kitchen. The whole family was sat around the table, of course, it was a famiy meeting.

"What?" I said.

"Its not what, its pardon" My mum corrected me.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever" I said sitting down in between my little sister and older brother.  I was only fourteen, the middle child but yet everyone treated me like a baby.

"We received another phone call from your teacher," my dad said in a deadly calm voice.

"Yeah,so?" i said pretending I didn't care but I knew what was coming, another shouting match between me and my parents that always ended in tears.

"It was about your english and-" I cut him off before he could continue.

"Look, i'm not good at math or English! Why cant you accept that I'm not a genius like you guys!?" I yelled at them, standing up.

"We were not saying that-" my mum tried to start.

"We are not trying to tell you this or that" I mimicked in a squeaky voice." I never want to talk you again!"

I ran out of the house, I didn't know where I was going or how I would get there but I didn't care. I didn't care, all I wanted to do was run.

And there I was, Ebony Bonavia. The Runner.