Stephen and Sharpies ~ Watty Awards 2012

Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

    I pull out a brown Sharpie and follow with a deep breath. Football, the way I feel when I grab that ball and throw it at the ground with a victorious smile. The way I feel everyone’s eyes on me, watching, staring, and waiting; waiting to see my next move. Though with all the happiness from touchdown and winning the games, there is still nothing that makes me want to continue the game. Nothing helps when you make the wrong call which costs the team the game. The looks across our face when we lose, they’re of disappointment and shame. It’s as if I am a dog with fleas, the cone of shame is placed over my head. All eyes on me, everyone knowing I blew it. It was always my fault and no one else’s.

    I pick up the piece of paper and I stare at the page. I can’t comprehend the words, all I see is the loops and lines of letters. I can’t make out the words, sentences, or paragraphs. I close my eyes for one minute and I imagine Stephen’s face, the way her lips curl in an upward smile. I can see the words forming as she talks to me outside the school, in the breeze. Out of all the things I remember about her, I can’t seem to remember the most important.

    Her voice.

    Her heart.

-Alec

    A brown football, this is the seventh Sharpie. I’ve wondered what it must feel like, getting a touchdown and winning it all. You act like it is so easy to run that stupid football down the field. I think it’s one of the indescribable feelings, something you can’t feel twice. I know that I never had the same jolt of happiness when you won the game for the team. I wasn’t the one that everyone cheered for, it was you that I was cheering for. I guess when I hear those cheers, I know there are hundreds of people just cheering for you.

    I liked the feeling of knowing that I was cheering for you, like everyone else; though I cheered for something else. I hoped you would be able to see me cheering for you, screaming loud. I wasn’t screaming because you won, I screamed because I wanted you to know that I was falling in love with you. I waited for you to hear me, over all those screams, I wanted mine to be the only one you could hear. I know it was foolish, but it was my scream that should have meant something, not any other scream. No cheer, yell, shout, scream, kiss, hug, none of these should’ve matter any because none of these came from me.

    Now for a little story, the last practice before your  first game. I remember sitting underneath the bleachers, watching quietly. I could see you, I watched you so intently. After a few minutes of practice, people began to show up and I decided to sit on the bleachers versus sitting under them. I snuck out and sat on the  bottom of the bleachers, on the far end. I watched you and I remember feeling eyes on my back, and feeling jolts of excitement whenever you turned your head towards the bleachers. I can’t remember exactly why I went to that practice or why that one was so important, but it was, it meant something to me, I don’t even know why.

    Football, never understood the game and probably never will. I found it kind of strange, throwing a ball, tackling each other, then bumping each other’s chests together when you get a touchdown. It seems like a foolish game. Pointless.

    Football is by definition, a pointless and foolish game. There’s a reason why I am quitting.

    Well, that practice really doesn’t have a story except it seems that I am proving myself to be a stalker. Wow I really can’t make a good case here for myself, can I? I hope you're finding this funny and not creepy. I know I am finding this fairly silly and kind of creepy; I know there is something more to this, I know there is a point to this. I know that if you finish all my letters, all my stories, you will find there is a point to this. I know you will find that I am your perfect girl, that you could love me and make me smile and laugh.