First Down for the Girls

First Down for the Girls~ One

      A/N:  Yes, this story was posted about a year ago, under the name OptimisticPessimist.  I was plagiarized and ended up removing the story as soon as it was completed.  But now I'm back, under the name TheRealOP (because someone is holding the name OptimisticPessimist and won't give it back to me).  And if you have read this story before, read it again!  Because it's EXTEREMELY DIFFERENT than the original. 

     That's Tyler, BTW >>>

     Sometimes, I couldn't help but wonder if I was cursed.  Or possibly, it was predetermined that my life was to be excruciatingly hard.  Maybe I had a great-great-grandparent who committed some sort of horrible deed and I'm paying for their actions.  Or maybe that time when I had stole a box of animal crackers from some girl in preschool was coming back to bite me.  Whatever the reason, there was no denying the obvious.  Everything in my life was destined to go bad.

     I do believe, though, that part of the blame went to my mom.  On the day of my birth, she was determined to name me something unique.  No, I couldn't be another Brittany or Ashley.  Not even a Taylor.  So she hatched this ridiculous idea that my name was to be Tyler.  And that's when everything went wrong.

     "There's nothing wrong with your name."  My mom insisted.  "Just because it's a little different doesn't mean there's something wrong with it.  There are other girls with the name Tyler, you know, and I'm sure they are happy."

     Yes, she did have a point.  There were other girls who shared my name.  But none, I doubt, had the certain combination of events that befell me.  Those other girls didn't move to the small town of Leighton, Virginia when they were eight.  Those other girls didn't have to attend Rosebriar Elementary.  And those other girls most definitely did not meet the maker of my problems, the start of all things evil, Tristan Bryant.  Because if they did, they'd be just as unhappy with their name as I was.  Because unfortunately, Tyler rhymes with—

     "Guy-ler!"  I let out a low grunt, as that idiotic nickname passes through my ears. My eyes avert to Tristan who stands on the twenty yard line, taunting me. 

     Though I wasn't the only person, I was the only girl in this school with the name Tyler.  That wasn't too big of a deal to me until I met Tristan in the third grade, who seemed to have taken it upon himself to make my life as horrible for me as possible by coming up with the nickname 'Guy-ler'.   And as we grew older, Tristan's popularity grew.  And as Tristan's popularity grew, so did the nickname to the entire student body.

     Even though I relayed these things to my mom, desperate to change my name, she had fooled herself into believing that I was wrong and everyone at my school was just jealous.  But no, they weren't jealous.  Far from it, actually.  To many, my name was an icon of ridicule.  To some, it was a joke since they didn't believe it was my real name.  But to me, it was the epitome of stupid.  Because there was nothing stupider than naming a girl Tyler. 

     I'm so lost in my thoughts that I forget I'm in the middle of a flag football game.  And before I know it, the pigskin ball is in my hands, and a group of teenage students are sprinting towards me. 

     See, there are a lot of reasons that I don't like flag football.  First, there's too much exercise involved.  More than what I wanted.  Second, I always lose.  And the third, I find out as I turn to run towards the touchdown line. I hear slight chuckles close behind, and I know Tristan's right on my tail. I decide to go on into a full sprint, but right as I kick up the pace, the third reason I hate flag football kicks in. 

     Guys tend to get a serious case of the grab hands.

     And I almost fly out of my shoes as Tristan grabs for my backside instead of the flag.