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Sports

If Only

I noticed the slightest little crack on the crown If only I had told someone about the crack in my helmet, if only I had run around the defender, if only I didn’t play in the championship game, if only I did what I knew I should have done all along… if only. I woke up at six in the morning. The game wasn’t until ten o’clock but I wanted to get there early. It’s not like I would have slept much later anyway because this was what I was thinking about all last night. After all, I was waiting for this the whole season. Just beat East River Middle and we would be guaranteed a spot in this year’s championship game. When I got to the frost-covered field it was deserted. Not many people would choose to sit outside in the early morning in November. I sat down in the corner of the bleachers and waited for the rest of my team to show up. It wasn’t long before other players wearing red-and-gold uniforms arrived at our home field. We started to gear up. I pulled my team helmet out of my bag and noticed the slightest little crack on the crown. I turned it around to look at the inside and noticed that one of the pads was out of position and half peeled away. It felt totally normal when it was buckled up so I jogged onto the field and didn’t give it a second thought. I knew this was a big game for me because when you’re the star running back and it’s the semifinals, the whole team is counting on you to perform well. The first half our offense moved like clockwork and we had a good lead. It was the middle of the fourth quarter, just a normal draw play, just a normal run, just a normal hit. So I thought. He hit me right in the head. Instead of hitting the padding, my forehead hit plastic. I went down. Hard. I sat there dazed for a moment but then hustled to the sideline still dizzy. Now I knew something was wrong. I didn’t go back in for the rest of the game because we were already winning by so much. After the game I didn’t feel much better, still dizzy and tired, and I kept wondering to myself, Was my helmet still in good condition? Was I going to be able to play on Sunday? I have had hits to the head before, but none were as bad as that one. There were only four days until the championship game and during that time things took a turn for the worse. I kept getting severe headaches and the first two days after the game I was sent home both days because I was throwing up at school. The night before the championship game, I sat alone in my room, wondering if I should play tomorrow. I remembered getting told over and over again that, if you get a bad hit to the head twice in a row, the consequences were severe. My parents asked me time and time again if I was OK to play the next day. I couldn’t tell anyone about the helmet because then they would connect the dots and think I had a head injury. I started to weigh my options but was so blinded by the fact that it was the final game of the season and our shot to win the title that I went against everything and decided to play. On the way to the game the next day I had that feeling in the pit of my stomach, like the one that you get when you know something is going to go wrong, and I kept wondering, Am I going to regret this decision? I forgot about everything when we arrived at the stadium. There were tens of thousands of people there—well, not exactly, maybe a hundred at most, but in my eyes I was playing in the Super Bowl. I got so immersed in my surroundings that my common sense went away, and I thought I was going to be fine during the game, but that little pit in my stomach was saying otherwise. For the first half of the game I forgot about my headaches, I forgot about my broken helmet, and I forgot that I was still vulnerable to a severe hit. All was fine until the end of the third quarter when I was sandwiched by two giant linemen. I got up and went back to the huddle, but my symptoms returned. It was a tie game and my conscience was telling me to go to the sideline and tell coach that I couldn’t play. That pit in the bottom of my stomach was still there but I thought that if I stayed on the field I could score the winning touchdown, so once again I went against what I knew I should really have done and I stayed on the field. I kept thinking about one thing though: Will this be a decision that I will regret? I managed to survive the whole fourth quarter and now we were down by six with only twenty seconds left. We were on the fifteen-yard line. First and ten was a pass play. Incomplete. Second down. Gain of two. A field goal wouldn’t tie the game. We needed a touchdown. Part of me wanted to be the star and score, but that uneasy feeling just kept getting worse and worse. Regret. Regret. Regret. I couldn’t get it to stop running through my head. It was a simple run. A draw play down the middle. The same play where I got hit the first time, except this time the stakes were much higher. The gap opened perfectly, I got the ball and took off down field. At the two-yard line I lifted my head and saw a defender running straight at me. During

Below the Ice

He was trying to stop, but it didn’t work Alex skied down the mountain and breathed in the scent of the pine trees. Everything was peaceful. He spotted a cluster of dark blue puddles of water seeping through the cracked ice. He longed to investigate and decided to stop and take a peek. As he got closer there was a quick flicker in one of the bigger puddles, creating a growing ring of tiny waves. He supposed it was a fish. As he slowed down he pushed his gloves back on his hands and covered his mouth with his neck warmer so his frosty breath would not come out. He quickly skied down but surprisingly skidded on the ice and one of his skis fell off. The screeching of the wind echoed through his ears as he fell on his back and slid down the hill in a tumbling heap of snow. His body was twisted up. He was trying to stop, but it didn’t work. He managed to take a glimpse of the puddles only several yards in front of him. He heard the icy ground crunching beneath him as he plunged into pitch-black water. All his consciousness streamed from him as he felt the deathly chill of the water. He tasted the saltiness of it in his mouth. He was drowning. It would be the end of it all. He couldn’t manage getting his ski off, so he desperately tried swimming upward toward the surface, which already seemed miles overhead. He could feel thick walls of ice on his palms that he could climb up. He slowly climbed it with great difficulty. The coldness threatened to freeze him to the core until his death. Random thoughts arose in Alex’s head, which pushed him away from his life. He remembered all the times he went out to dinner with his mom. And all the times he went out to play sports with his dad and all the times he talked and talked for hours with his brother Lucas and watched his cat play with a toy. He remembered the first time he ate mango frozen yogurt with chocolate shavings and he tasted the creamy deliciousness as it entered his watering mouth. The first time he got a home run in baseball, all the momentum and the crowd roaring. His first time playing Handel’s Water Music, the beautiful tones of the notes humming through his ears. The exciting feeling that he had worked hard and accomplished something. Speeding along through the ocean when he was boogie boarding and when he went crashing and tumbling onto the beach and laughing with excitement. The wind rushing into his face as he went down the steep roller coaster with his dad at Six Flags. His first flip he did off the diving board when he landed on his back. Feeling the feeling of doing something he never thought he could do. His life was flashing before him. All these special times in his life. Life. He wanted it. But he didn’t think he could get it through all the chaos and the freezing blackness. He opened his eyes as much as possible and he saw light. Was it actually light? Could this possibly be it? Right as he took his first gasp of air he fell into a sleep he would probably never have again. He awoke in the hotel room staring with fuzzy vision at a burning fire in front of him. He had fresh clothes on and he could feel the leather of the armchair he was sitting in. His mom brought a steaming dish of spaghetti with his favorite sauce, tomato sauce. He took a long sigh and slowly blinked… Alex Perry, 9San Francisco, California Audrey Zhang, 11Levittown, New York

No Regrets

My sneakers pounded the red turf as I circled the track. Sweat ran down my neck and I wiped my stinging eyes. Beside me ran Rhonda Monroe, her braids flying out behind her. “You’re slow, Bailey. You shouldn’t be on the track team. Bye bye,” she jeered as she shot away from me. I gritted my teeth and ran harder, ignoring my burning lungs. I drove my feet hard into the ground, imagining that with each step I was pounding Rhonda’s face. I smiled viciously. Finally I skidded to a stop in front of Coach Leslie, just seconds behind Rhonda. I gasped and clutched my aching sides, determined to not look at her triumphant smirk. Coach Leslie smiled encouragingly as the other girls began to cluster around her. Finally, as Jenna leisurely jogged up to the group, she pulled out her clipboard. “Great job, everyone,” she said. “I have some great news. The Oregon State Championships are coming up. Three of you landed a spot in the champs. And the honor goes to Rhonda, Lucy, and Bailey!” “I knew it,” Rhonda said loudly. “I’ve won the Oregon State Championships twice. I mean, for such a great runner like me, it’s totally easy.” Lucy screamed and tackled me. I crashed into the ground and winced. Lucy didn’t seem to notice. She danced around me, her face shining with happiness. I pushed myself up and gave her a grin. I glanced at Rhonda, who stood off to the side, staring at us. I could see a longing in her eyes that startled me. And the honor goes to Rhonda, Lucy, and Bailey!” “The winner of the race receives one thousand dollars. However, other girls from many other states will also be competing. I expect you girls to come to practice at least four times a week, including our normal meets. The rest of you, we will just have our usual practices two times a week,” Coach Leslie instructed. “All right, see you on Thursday.” I ran to Mom’s car and threw open the door. She looked up from her iPhone and smiled as I jumped into the back seat. “Well, you look happy,” she observed as she started the engine. I bounced up and down on the seat. “I’m going to the Oregon champs with Lucy!” I cheered. “And… well, with Rhonda.” My mother frowned at my subdued excitement about Rhonda. She raised an eyebrow quizzically. I avoided her gaze and picked at the stitches in the back seat. My mother cleared her throat and I sighed, defeated. “It’s just that Rhonda’s so rude,” I finally mumbled. “She always makes fun of me.” “And you do the same to her.” “You would, too, if you had to listen to her sneer at you all day!” I snapped. My mother shook her head and stopped the car at the red light. I crossed my arms, scowling. Figures my mom would insist I had to be Ms. Goody-Goody angel. My mom turned around to face me. I braced myself for a blow about treating others well. But instead she only said, “Rhonda’s brother has a rare disease. Only an expensive operation her parents can’t afford can save him. It’s been hard on Rhonda.” I didn’t say anything as the guilt plague pummeled me. My mom turned around and kept driving. Guilt. It was the one feeling I couldn’t stand. I wished I could just go back to hating Rhonda in peace. *          *          * “Fast mile, girls, let’s go,” Coach Leslie called the second Lucy, Rhonda, and I stepped onto the turf. I nodded and sprinted down the track, Lucy at my heels. I could hardly look at Rhonda, much less give a snarky remark as Lucy and I passed her. Her head was down and she was dragging her feet. Around the track I whirled, Rhonda trailing behind me. My breaths came in short gasps as I fought for air. My legs pushed onward though my muscles screamed for a break. Finally I crossed the finish line, seconds before Lucy. We waited for Rhonda. It seemed like an eternity before she finally ran up to us. We hurried over to Coach Leslie. She was frowning as she whipped her red hair into a ponytail. I winced as she started giving Rhonda the stink eye. “OK, not bad. Take a water break. Rhonda, come over here,” Coach Leslie ordered. I gulped down the refreshing water as it cooled my body. I could feel beads of sweat running down my sticky back. I inched over to where Coach Leslie was standing behind the storage shed. I leaned back, pretending to savor the shade. Instead, I strained to hear their conversation. “Look, I know you have a lot going on, but that run was unacceptable. You got to step up your game or else Alexia is going to replace you. Once you’re on the track you have to leave your emotions behind,” Coach Leslie said. “OK, OK. My brother had another seizure and you’re, like, telling me to just deal with it. Give me a break!” Rhonda said. Her voice started to crack. She sniffled. “Uh, I’m sorry this is so hard for you. Just, um, try to calm down,” Coach Leslie said awkwardly. She was never the comforting person. She was kind, but her way of kindness was driving us hard. They stepped out from behind the shed and I jumped and made a strangled cat sound. Coach Leslie eyed me, but I avoided her gaze. “All right, we’ll run more tomorrow. Get a good rest tonight and try not to think about… other things,” she said, giving Rhonda a good stare. I nodded and wearily headed towards the gate. As I let myself out and walked over to the car, I still couldn’t believe Rhonda Monroe would cry about anything. *          *          * My mind forgot about