I Promise

5

I stop, and the world seems to shrink on me. I can't breathe, and I can't look away, so I am left staring in the middle of a busy street, people pushing past me. I don't care, because my eyes are locked onto the hand that is holding my mother's. I snap out of my transfixed state, the sounds of the city slapping me and nearly making me topple over as I am engulfed from head to toe. God, people didn't know when to shut up. Everyone was on their phones talking, or laughing with someone, exactly the way my mother had just laughed. No one pays attention to the girl that just realized exactly why my dad had left my mom. Even though he hit her, I am surprised that I want to do the same.

It takes a while for me to stop gaping, and my mother just stands still with the mystery man. I notice that she didn't let go of his hand.

"Rynn, this isn't what it looks like," she says, her voice high pitched, squeaky. For the first time, I hear the fear in her voice. She knows she's been caught, and the desperation of hers is like a pigs. When pigs go to the slaughterhouse, they go crazy because they can feel that the pigs before them didn't come back. They know it's death, and they go ballistic.

I guess my thoughts spoke for themselves because I decide to say exactly what's on my mind.

"Did you know that pigs can sense when they are going to go to the slaughterhouse? That's why they go nuts, and apparently it is the worst noise in the world." I stammer.

Good one, Rynn. The first words you say to your liar of a mother are about pigs.

My mother looks confused for a moment, but I manage to regain my composure.

"Honey, I know this is weird...." she begins, but I cut her off.

"Don't call me honey, and if you decide to go home and not share a bed somewhere else, with this" -- I wave my hands in front of the mystery man, "then make sure I don't see you," I finish.

And then I do what I do best. I run.

I run and run until the world is a blur, and then I realize that I am running to my school. I am sprinting as hard as I can, and I barely register that I knocked down a few people in my way. I don't care, and I run as fast as I can until I see the stadium lights illuminate the back of the school.

I stop, panting, but I feel pretty good. Thank god that my school doesn't understand what saving electricity means, because I walk to the stadium fence and open it. I know the door to the gym lockers will be open, and I know that I always have a spare set of cleats and clothes in mine.

So I hastily change, grab a soccer ball, and walk out to the field. Coach Nobelton trusts the soccer team enough to make sure we all have a key to the supply room in case we want to practice on our time, and she generally just keeps the locker rooms unlocked because no one will break in hoping to steal deodorant or a bottle of shampoo.

I walk out onto the stadium, the lights making it seem like the whole world is trained on me, watching every move I make. Tears stream down my face, but I can't tell if I'm angry or if I'm upset. I guess I'm both, because my shots have extra power to them, something that I'm surprised to see as I shoot the soccer ball straight through the net.

I groan as I realize I only have one ball, so I sprint to the supply room and grab the weight vest, sled, and a huge bag of soccer balls.

Then I proceed to train. I begin pelting the net with my accurate kicks, alternating between my left and right foot, always aiming at the left or right corner of the net. I feel the tears trickle down my face, but I ignore my blurred vision and still shoot with perfect accuracy. I continue kicking at the net until all the balls are in, and then I grab the weight sled and do sprints until my legs feel like they are going to fall off. But I wasn't done. I grabbed the vest and jogged around the perimeter of the field. I take each drill one set at a time, putting dead focus onto each task until the image of my mom's hand intertwined with another hand dims. When I finish jogging for about twenty minutes, I'm red, exhausted, and still crying. So I collect the soccer balls and continue to shoot at the net over and over again, never missing a single goal.