Remembering Shauqina

CHAPTER 4: Playing hurdles - Upper Primary years

CHAPTER 4: Playing hurdles - Upper Primary years

I was very into sports those innocent primary days. I dabbled in hockey, netball, basketball, even skateboarding. You name it. Remember the bruises? Of all my sports encounters, my most tragic and humiliating experience must be in athletics. Strange. Ask me to play hockey, running across the field for half a day would be no problem but ask me to jog around the field, and I'll be puffing and huffing like the big bad wolf... Hurdling was a gigantic hurdle I forced myself to go through, with almost comical results. With a huge scarf over my head, l'll be trying to clear every hurdle, and ran down each and every one of the hurdles with pride and gusto. Nobody has ever fallen like I have fallen! I'll be hiding my limp as I make my way back to the class, boasting about my escapade. Zak was by the door. I saw him looking down at my bare legs, his eyes growing slightly bigger than normal.

" What?!!" I shouted at him.

He smiled rather sheepishly.

"Err...you hurt your knee..."

I looked down and saw the trickle of red down the blasted knee which had kissed too many tracks. l'll let you in on a secret. Every time I see blood, my knees start to feel wobbly and my head gets a little lighter but I am not going to let Zak knows that!! I shrugged and tried to look nonchalant.

" Eza-"

"What?!!" My voice was softer this time, more unsure.

Zak quietly handed me a small, rectangular piece of paper. A Handiplast.

“You’ll need this."

"Oh! OK."

So the scene was repeated every time I completed my hurdles practice. Zak, without fail, would pass me a Handiplast. For the umpteenth time, he'll be reading from a book, and passing me the Handiplast quietly, and I will be taking it silently. One day, I walked or limped, or I can't remember what, into class and there he was still reading.

That particular day, the fall was rather bad and the knee looked like the skin was going to peel off, not to mention the red trickle was flowing faster than Niagara Falls. I was beginning to feel a bit faintish and I must have looked paler than normal. He looked up at me as I passed him.

“I think maybe you should stop hurdles."

I was shocked. That must be his longest sentence to me! I was so shocked that I looked at him, mouth opened, most unladylike for even a twelve year old girl.

'Why?"

He started to fidget, but still continued in his slow drawl.

"You play better hockey...that scar, on your knee...it will be permanent...besides, I have no more plaster." he smiled sheepishly at me.

I glared at him but he looked steadily at my face. I think I was blushing or other, because I felt my face grew hot. I looked away but managed a 'sick' face back at him. What the heck with scars? They are like medals to me!  And who asked him to be my plaster supplier? But he was right about hockey though. I was a damn good hockey player. Something about his tone of voice left me thoughtful.

I never attended hurdles practice anymore after that day.

And he was right. The scar was permanent.