As Dakota Akihara crashes, Rhea Walton falters.
While one is drug away from a life in the 1%, the other finds it increasingly-unbearable to put up with the crushingly-expected and dependable monotony of slow business, bills to pay, and mou...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The world spindled into a whirl of color as I spun my head around; the cerulean blue of the sky, the faint emerald green of the grass, and the forever-moving splotches of red merging into a watercolor river. I could feel the rapid beating of my heart, hear the echoing of my breathing as I forced my legs to go faster and faster, turning the grass below me yet again into another blur.
That's what life had been since Louie and I talked. A collection of quickly-passing streaks that slowly became recognizable. It was like after re-making an attachment to my old life, I finally was able to anchor something down in my new one. Maybe it was the knowledge that someone was still there, in my corner.
Now, time became a blur of neutrality.
Nothing specatular, nothing catastrophic–just adhesion to a tandem purgatory. Everything slowly sliding into place, the boringness of normal monotony twisting itself back in. Family dinners, online classes, sports, friends, college apps–what had once been placated in such a disorientating and un-familiar fashion was slowly becoming my quotidien.
"Don't loose the ball!" Fuck you, Liam.
I'd recognize that voice anywhere, even from far away and breathless from a 10294748 minute run. Its jarringly-wide range startling even the calmest. As a defender came in hot, I flicked the ball behind me, turning forty-five degrees to my right and kicking, thankfully watching it go up and then curl itself into an un-reachable corner of the goal. Woots resonated from the mediumly-decorated stands at the prospect of a win, but even the worst player could see how close to a tie we really were. The team we were playing right now had made it to semi-finals in states last year.
Though we were 2-1 with thirty seconds left, it was still a threat as we all moved back to starting positions. Dylan slid up and snatched the ball, only to be overtaken by the other team. About halfway down the field though, Lucas intercepted a pass and stole it back, dribbling down and passing to Ethan who, with a lot of footwork, finally made it close enough to kick it in. As the clock counted down from ten, everything drawled into slow motion, though the ball accelerating up and up, curving at a 5 degree, then 30 degree angle, gravity pushing it downward through the dense air particles.
And past the goal by two feet.
The buzzer went off as voices cheered and players in red ran around in the green triumph. Now, it was that 2-1 win. I smiled in melancholic nostalgia, having forgotten what it felt like and how much I'd missed the familiarity of being on a team. A blur of red moving back and forth to the side caught my eye, instantly projecting my body uncontrollably in its direction. Let me tell you about this splotch of red though. It was different from the former, in fact it wasn't even red, but a burnt orange, belonging to the head of an egnimatic girl. Next to her stood a blond traitor, who had spent the game obnoxiously cheering for the other team.
"Least supportive people I've ever met." I jogged up, placing my hands on the top of the low wire fence.
"Reevaluate that, I'm keeping you on your toes." Sammie jibed in forced playfullness. "Maybe that's why you even won in the first place."
