Don't let go

Physical Education

I couldn't move, my heart was thumping so heavy it was hard to breathe.

He turned in my direction, my eyes pondering his still face.

He was staring back. The welcoming eyes drawing me in. I shuttered and stared at my toes.

Oh my god!!! It's him!!

My mind wallowed In thought. This is bad.This is very bad. Nothing but horrid results could come from this.

"Tiffany?" He mouthed, whispering to a volume only he could hear.

I pushed the front door out, leading though the locker filled hallway.

It was him, he saw me. He remembered me.

What if he tells anyone!? My reputation would be ruined! Let alone my whole life. My mind spun into circles, like when you go too fast on a marry-go round and you feel like your going to purge.

Only I couldn't, I rarely had enough food in my system to throw it up.

He was at my school. He was in my class. He knew who I was.

With a queasy stomach and a foggy mind, I trudged through the day until eighth hour, my new gym hour.

I entered the locker room of shirtless girls in zebra spandex. Flaunting their sports bras.

I slipped on pink basketball shorts, and a plain blue shirt. Yanking it up into a blonde like of a pony tail.

I became minutes late for class because of an overbearing minor pimple uprising on my forehead. Staring at it for three minutes in the mirror caused me to be tarty.

Conscious eyes watched me, sitting across the gym floor.

I stared at the ground, avoiding their eyes.

"Foster take a seat." His adamsapple bounces in his throat.

I sat on the gym floor, my bright nike shoes squeaked.

"You're late."

"I'm sorry sir, I was-"

"Since you're late you don't have a partner." He cut my off.

"Partner?" I raised my eyebrows.

"Yeah and since you're late, I'll partner you with Mr.Wilder over here."

My heart stopped for approximately a minute. Mr.Wilder was him. My hands stutter, while I take a seat next to my partner. Forcing no eye contact.

He was looking at me, eyes non removal.

The teachers words transformed into a big blurry murmur.

"Get going!" Everyone shoved into a stampede across the gym.

"W-what?" I slowly rose.

He was already lurking behind me.

"We're practicing football passes."

The sound of his voice makes me shutter, I bow my head in fear of seeing his face again, I couldn't take it.

I follow him around the gym until we find a vertical corner of the gym to pass in.

I don't move. He tossed the pig skin ball to me, hitting the floor.

Sitting by him in class is too easy, no, I have to get hit in the head with a ball by him instead.

I wish I could ask for a new partner, anyone. Even Bob the captain of the chess team who throws worse than me.

But I'm stuck with the guy who saved me, the one who I expected to never see again.

"Tiffany, what are you doing?"

"Don't say my name!" I commanded.

His feet worked closer to me.

"What's wrong?"

"Stay away from me!"

My words bring back flashbacks of that night. The dagger, the sand, his Gap sweatshirt.

"What are you so afraid of?" His tone gentle and soft.

My eyes gaze up into his, I didn't see fear. I saw brown welcoming eyes.

I was more relaxed now, "you."

"Why?"

"Please don't tell anyone!" I expressed in a hush tone.

"I won't."

"I need your word that you won't tell anyone."

"My word? What is this the nineteen fifties?"

"Promise me."

"Fine. I promise. You don't have to worry Tiffany. Can we try to complete a pass now?"

He backed up and threw the ball in my direction, sliding it wish an easy catch.

"Good job."

"I'm not in preschool, don't congratulate me for small accomplishments."

I harshly attempt to throw the ball at him. He caught it in a frenzy of my disappointment. Throwing a tight spiral to me.

"I just realized something." The ball fumbled into my hands.

"What's that?"

"I'm playing catch with a guy, and I don't even know your name."

"It's Drew."

"Drew Wilder?" I knitted my eyebrows.

"Drew Alexander Wilder."

"Nice to meet you Drew Alexander Wilder. I'm Tiffany Marie Foster."

"Marie? That's cute." He said with a heavy coat of sarcasm.

"Oh yeah? Like Alexander is cool."

I toss it a hard attempt, with his amazing athletic ability he smoothy catches it.

"It was my grandpa's name."

"Oh. It's cool."

He chuckled. "Cool as in the eighteenth century cool."

I cannot help but let out an exasperating laugh, my arms beginning to ache from the repeated throwing motion.

How long is this class? I wondered. Five teen more minutes of this?

"Getting weak Tiffany?"

"I've never been much of a football person."

"Do you play sports?"

"I played volleyball through most of high school. Never cared much for throwing an oddly shaped ball and slapping my teammates ass."

"Come here."

"What! Why?" I felt uneasy. What could he possibly do to me now?

Was it time for him to dagger me?

"I won't hurt you. Come here."

His reassuring tone convinced me.

"Put three fingers on the seam of the ball, causing your hand to make an L shape. Okay, grip it good."

I follow his instructions carefully, avoiding making a fool of myself.

"Okay. Now pull it back by your ear. "

"Now whirl back, and throw!"

Spinning in a tight spiral, the ball swims through the air. Lowering directly at the gym teachers bald head.

He sharply rotated his head at a ninety degree angle. Instead of screaming, we had a different, more of a monotonous reaction.

"Nice throw." He twisted back to his primary position.

"You have an incredible arm."

I could not help but feel the sense of satisfaction in the current situations my life was in.

Drew would keep his mouth shut.

I would keep my mouth shut.

Everybody would be happy.

If only life were that easy.