Be There | A Dwayne Robertson Fanfic ✔️

The First Game

I'm currently sitting in a room with all my teammates as Mr. Tibbles pulls red fabric off of a large rectangular shape. "Da-Na!" Mr. Tibbles shouts as he reveals a Wheaties box with Team USA on it. We all "ooh" and "aah" over it when we see ourselves.

Dwayne, who's standing over on the side with his black cowboy hat on his head, smiles and says, "Hey ya'll! That's us!"

"Duh, we know," Fulton responds as I roll my eyes, stuffing my hands into my black jeans, which I had paired with white converse, a dark grey tee, and a red, grey, and black long-sleeved flannel. Dwayne shrugs as everyone laughs at Fulton's comment.

Mr. Tibbles ignores the exchange and continues. "Today, it's a Wheaties box. Tomorrow, it's video games, actions figures, lunchboxes, the sky is the limit," he lists. "Now, just to make sure everyone knows who you are, try on one of these." He holds up a red, white, and blue jersey with stars on it and "USA" printed on.

Everyone once again exclaims how cool and awesome the jerseys are, just like they did with the cereal box. "Brought to you by those wonderful people at Hendrix for all your hockey needs," Mr. Tibbles adds, promoting himself. "Fulton, there you go. Coach. C'mon everybody, take your own. I'm not getting out everybody's." he says as we begin to crowd around the box.

I manage to grab mine, which says "Portman 16", my original number from Chicago. I glance at Charlie, the only one not grabbing his jersey, and he's talking to Coach. He seems upset, but I don't want to eavesdrop, so I walk away with my jersey in hand.

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"Ancient Greece was the beginning of Western Civilization," Miss McKay walks up the grass as we listen to her lesson, sitting on various blankets and logs in our Team USA track suits. "See in Greece, they didn't have professional sports or Wheaties boxes. So, the athletes competed for another reason. Anybody?"

I'm sitting next to Charlie on a wooden picnic table, along with Fulton and Goldberg. "Falafels?" Goldberg takes a shot at the question, earning laughs from everyone.

"You wish, Goldberg," Connie says, turning, and smiling at Guy, who is obviously next to her on two tree stumps.

Miss McKay shakes her head. "Charlie," she motions to him, as he lowers his hand from the air.

"Pride," he responds.

Miss McKay nods at his statement. "That's right. The various city-states waved their flags and wore their home colors proudly.

"Did America always dominate?" Fulton asks. I roll my eyes. Could he be any dumber?

Everyone groans, while Dean says, "That's a good question." His earrings reflect the light, another thing I wish he hadn't gotten, besides his tattoo.

Miss McKay sits down on a different picnic table. "No, America wasn't around back then. Don't forget that compared to other countries, America is still young. Still forming its own identity. America's a teenager, just like you."

"Like us?" Jesse asks. His voice is saddened, like Miss McKay's words have touched him deeply. That is a great way of explaining America, in my opinion. It makes me happier to represent our country when it's compared to us.

"You bet," Miss McKay responds. "A little awkward at times." You're telling me. "But always right there on the verge of greatness."

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After our lesson, we're skating down the road, following Coach on a four-wheeler. "I don't know, but I've been told!" He shouts in a bad military accent.