My Only Hope

My Only Hope- Chapter 3

People continued to gasp. Some cheered. Some just whispered, amazed by the impossible move. The buzzer went off. We had won. I began to feel dizzy. Just as I saw my family coming towards me, everything went black.

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          I woke up in my room. My mother soon walked in.

          “Oh sweetie, thank goodness you’re awake. That kick was amazing! Who taught you such a wonderful move?” my mother asked, sitting on the corner of my bed.

          “No one, I just shot,” I explained.

          “We’ll, with a kick like that, you could be pro,” It seemed my mother was impressed, “Oh, and Scott came to check on you, but I told him you were asleep”

          “Wait, what day is it?” I asked. How long had I been out?

            “You just slept last night and this morning,” she answered. I realized that meant today was a school day so I got up.

          “I don’t think you should go to school,” she said worriedly, “You did, after all, pass out,”

          “I’ll be fine,” I said, for I didn’t want to worry her, “I still need to finish studying for exams. I can’t miss,”

          “Well, if you simply must,” she said, genuinely worried for me.

          I got up feeling woozy. I masked my dizziness and made my way downstairs. I got ready and we way to school.

          If there’s one thing I hate, it’s being late to school, because when you go into the classroom, everyone stares at you and you get a lot of unwanted attention. I really hate myself for passing out. I mean, who does that? I went through with the inevitable and walked into the room.

          As predicted, they stared at me. In fact, they seemed to act that way all day long. I walked over to Rebecca at lunch.

          “Do you know why everyone’s staring at me?” I asked. Surely not all of them had seen my shot.

          “So you haven’t heard? Rose, you made the newspaper! Rose Malone, you’re famous!” She shouted excitedly; so loud that people gave us funny looks.

          So I guess they had heard. I just hope the fame doesn’t last too long.

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          I dreamt of him last; the one who was in my vision at the game. He, and who I assumed to be his father, were beside a lake behind a mansion.

            The man was scolding the boy, his glasses still covering his eyes. The boy seemed upset; you could see it in his eyes. He tried his very best to hide it.

            The man raised his hand and struck the poor boy. He cried out in pain. I could not do anything; it was like watching it through a television screen. The boy continued to cry out as the man hit him again and again.

          I woke up screaming, the boy’s cries still haunting me. I began to calm down, realizing it was just a dream. I walked down the stairs, thankful it was Saturday.

          I must say, when I got down stairs, I was surprised. There was an amazing amount of food on the table. Any breakfast food, you name it.

          Mom came around the corner.

“I thought you might like this,” she said, “as a reward for winning the Championships!” She really was the greatest.

Before I had a chance to thank her men in black suits came through our windows and doors.