Take A Step (unrestricted) (on hold)

Two: Daniel Cross

Two: Daniel Cross

            It’s been four weeks since I started junior year at a new school.

            It wasn’t hard to adjust, but then I missed my mother’s cooking. The food here doesn’t suck but… you know what they all say, right? Mothers cook best. And I believed that. I miss the rain too. This place… is too… green. I mean like, yeah, so there are a lot of greens at Oregon too, but this place… blooms too much, I think.

            “Daniel! We’re heading down!” I heard Clyde call, one of the guys in my History class. He was a soccer player, and we, with other couple of guys, regularly now, went out to the fields after classes to play.

            “Coming!” I yelled back, but then I strode up the stairs, bumped into guys from the shower, their rooms, and ran across the corridors like lightning.

            I finally reached my room, and I picked up a fresh pair of socks and a shirt. You’ll never know how sweaty and grimy you get when playing soccer. I sprinted back, and when I got down, they were already warming up. There would only be eight of us today—Clyde and I, John, Bryce, Martin, Josh, Michael and Stitch (I know, Stitch’s name seems odd. I think he shared once that his father named him stitch because he was a big baby and his mother had to have a lot of stitches when she gave birth to him. Then again, at seventeen, Stitch is the thinnest among us.). These people with me are the first guys I met. Clyde’s my roommate, and he’s really good with girls. Really good. During weekends, when we’re allowed to go out of the Academy, I always find him flirting with someone, even offering to get me my own. He’s crazy. I know he just plays with girls.

            When I asked him about it, this is what he told me:

            “Look, man. Do you see girls back at the dormitory? No, right?” I shook my head, “And we don’t have girls back at home either, so, I’m making the most of it here,” he explained.

            Clyde’s pretty laid back, and it helped me cope with the people in here.

            “So, you game, man?”

            “I’m cool,” I told them.

            We started to play, and we were sweating so much I felt the heat under my uniform. Soccer was such a sweaty sport, and I was getting tired.

            Time came for a free kick, and I took it. With the adrenaline still pumping in my chest, I swung my leg, picked up momentum, and then sent the ball flying high into the air, instead of our imaginary ‘goal’.

            “Aw that’s so far! You go look for it. I’m bushed.” Martin pulled his shirt off, wiping it over his face.

            “I know. Whatever,” I rolled my eyes at them and started to walk towards the direction where I saw the ball go.

            I walked and walked and walked and walked about a hundred steps, even tried to jog. I reached the part full of plants and trees. There was a trail, but not too obvious, and so I just followed it. I swore the ball went this way. God. What a kick.

            After about ten centuries and a half later, I finally found it. Lying alone—ignored, on the mud.

            I picked it up. I raised my head… and was amazed with what I saw.

            The lake.

            I knew it was a bit far from the dorm, and that I just realized I kicked the ball so far for it to land in here. But nobody ever told me it was this magnificent—the water was like literally made of crystals—it twinkled as the sun’s rays hit it, the trees adding to a peaceful, heavenly effect. I was startled when I let my eyes span its length, and someone tapped my shoulder.