Captured

Chapter 1 - Dreams

Chapter 1 - Dreams

A cool breeze hits us as we enter the dome shape building; the temperature reminds me of being outside on a late spring afternoon. A man in his near forties guides us to another door that has ‘locker room’ written across a sign. Slowly it moves back and forth waving at us, as if giving us a friendly greeting.

My coach is tall and slender, a spitting image of Valeria Goldwin, a volleyball player we all envied. Valeria will be forever known as the best volleyball player. Standing in front of my coach, who we call Ashley on occasion, is like standing in front of Valeria, but this will never be possible since Valeria is dead and has been dead for several years. Ashley stands in front of us smiling encouragingly as we enter the locker room. “Let’s go out as winners and leave as winners,” she pep-talks us. A cheer leaves my mouth in agreement and my other teammates follow.

After we place our bags and water bottles in the lockers that they provide us, Ashley waves us forward to step outside the locker room and where the million fans will be. I take a deep breath as I place my foot out the locker room door and onto the basketball flooring. The crowds cheer in unison and make me feel less afraid of doing something embarrassing like tripping.

There are a few that stand up with thumbs down booing at us, but I don’t let that make me feel down on myself. After all, they probably are rooting on the other team, because they are friends with the players. That is the normal case for voting, that’s why we always have to be friendly. It makes our name look better, the more friends the more fans. 

Fans,rattles my brain reminding me I have real alive fans. I am practically famous, though famous people are actresses and actors that you would find scanning through the Portables looking for something to watch. It is rare for me to have fans, let alone be here.

We are part of the top two teams for once this is a major accomplishment towards our commune. But, this also means that if we lose we’ll be a disappointment to our commune, we will have had lost our only chance to actually gain some importance. The stadium’s roaring is increasing now that the full team is out. “Go Ghosts! Go Ghosts,” rings in my ears as they scream. The stadium is filled past capacity, double the amount I had expected; there are at least nine different news teams here. This will be on every news channel tonight, no doubt, because this is the Nationals.

Somehow my team has made it here, even though we are the underdogs. It is the first time in 20 years that my team has made it from our commune. There are 105 communes in all, 10 for each sport and 5 communes for the retired to live at. “Okay, okay, everybody quiet down,” a man entering speaks into the microphone, which has just been lowered down for his use only.

He wears a black and white striped t-shirt, the normal outfit for a referee. There is a whistle around his neck and he twirls it around his finger as he speaks, “Welcome to the Volleyball Nationals five thousand and forty five! Today we have two lucky teams who have made it:  the Ghosts and the Killers!” He pauses gesturing to each of us. The crowd roars and feet stomp against the bleachers chanting the team they are rooting for.

I glance at the Killers hesitantly, afraid I am going to catch one of their eyes and make me even more nervous about facing them. They are dressed in red and black, unlike us who are in all white. Most of them look around 16 years old besides one tiny girl who resembles my age. She is the only one short and looks fragile as if she will break any second. I don’t understand how she could have made it here. Only the best 15 players came, her t-shirt has number 15 on it. So, that can only mean she ranks 15th out of her team. I don’t have much room to judge, considering I only rank 12th out of my team and I too am young.