A high school wrestler finds his life spiraling out of his control.
Liam García never meant to let cutting weight consume him.
He never meant to find solace in the starving or the purging.
He loved the sport more than anything.
Until it started...
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"Here." I say, sliding my essay across Mr. Debato's desk as the rest of my classmates trail out of the room.
He gives me a slow look before carefully flipping it over, and I stand awkwardly in front of him with my hands tucked into my pockets. I suddenly feel incredibly vulnerable. Like I'm naked in front of him or something.
I watch his eyes glaze over the first paragraph of my essay, and jump back up to me. I wait, my breath frozen in my chest as he sets down the crisp pages.
"Holden Caulfield's insecurities and how they compare to your own." He says, almost as if he's feeling the words out in his mouth. He gives me a satisfied nod and my chest falls in relief.
"Is it okay?" I say. "I mean you told me to write about something personal so this-"
"This is great." Mr. Debato says giving me a supportive smile as he cuts off my nervous stammering. "You did exactly what I asked."
I nod my head and allow my mouth to curl up in a smile. My head might be pounding, my throat might be dry, and my throat might feel like raw sandpaper. But at least this is one thing out of the way.
He adjusts his glasses and gives my essay another look. "Did it make you feel better by any chance. Writing this all out."
I chew on the inside of my cheek for a second as I ponder his question. "I don't know."
"That's perfectly valid."
"I guess it just made me a little, I guess sad." I admit. "To analyze how Holdens insecurities manifested into his fearfulness of the world."
"You wrote that sometimes your insecurities manifest into fear too."
Now my eyes flicker down to the linoleum floor, chipped from years of steps, and fuzzy from the yellow classroom lights.
I swallow, waiting for a question, but when one doesn't come I find myself talking anyway. I reiterate what I've already written on paper. "Sometimes I wonder if I'm actually any good at wrestling. Even though I'm committed to Penn state. And that turns into fear. Fear of failure, fear of disappointing my mom-"
"And your wrote your race is an insecurity too." Mr. Debato says softly. "And that you fear the judgment and racism of your classmates."
I nod.
"You did an amazing job on this essay Liam." Mr. Debato says. "I'm really proud of you."
I breathe out deeply and than hoist my backpack over my shoulder. "Thanks Mr. Debato."
The relief that one thing in my life is currently working out, is almost enough to make me tear up. But I don't, because well, that would be humiliating. But than I feel a dull ache in my stomach and I'm suddenly reminded of everything's that's currently wrong in my life instead.
