Light up the Sky

f o u r t e e n

    Alvin

I meet my class during the football game that mom forced me to attend. I see Chandler receiving his spotlight, and I felt my vision darken more. Strategically, he isn't playing the way that coach directed us, but I'd never really know if he had changed the scheme of play or whatever. I feel like running away from the bleachers and and the crowd and the fame that my substitute is receiving. At this point I just feel like drowning all the way down a black hole. The hole should rather suck me because that wouldn't make that big of a difference at this point. I can barely even make out half the players, and don't understand why all the people upstage the bleachers are even cheering for the entry of a puck and a spark on the scoreboard. They're basic. I don't know what comes over me that I suddenly just drop the coke carton and the entire meal that mom funded for me to savor whilst watching the game. Two three girls from the front bleachers look back at me a just stare as if it wouldn't look odd at all. I want to throw in the most jock-iest comment at their faces but then it hits me-- I'm not a jock anymore.

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I ring the doorbell at our place but no one answers. I might even be smelling like a dog after the jog that I did from the grounds. I bang the door this time harder, but end up being responded by nothing but the violent sweat-cooling winds that come from the back. I walk to the back door hoping to find a key or something and reach the little goal point where me and dad used to play. I remember how he always considered sport as something that makes you drench in sweat. So every summer, we used to spread the ice kit through the backyard and and roll through and score goals. I don't like nostalgia because my spoilt and troubled childhood is something I really don't appreciate visiting. Especially my point of view. A tear rolls down my cheeks when I think of dad and how much he's morphed into the most uninterrupted, undisturbed and scornful person I've ever met. I hear the leaves ruffling somewhere around so put my head down and wash my tear off. I look back at the driveway, but I don't see anyone so I look at the neighbors' but I couldn't see anything. I look at Maya's back yard. I see her standing there in this dark hoodie over her head. She's here in daylight. Oh no. 

"Maya, go back in," I say as if I'm convincing a little kid. 

"No."