Just a little writing piece I did that was inspired by the night of the football game I went to recently.
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"Oh my God!"
"Is that him?"
"He's so cute!"
Whispers and squeals follow me around the football field. Heads turn as I pass, and giggles arise when I smile. The attention is smothering. I knew I should've stayed at home instead of going to the game.
"Hey," a girl with curly brown hair says as I stride towards my group of friends. "Nick, right?"
Plastering on my best confused smile, I reply, "Yeah. Do I know you?"
"Selena, remember? We went to the same elementary school when we were little," she says, twirling her hair around a perfectly manicured finger. Unlike all the other people I've run into, I actually do remember her. We would hang out during recess along with the other popular kids. From the looks of Selena's heavy makeup and tight clothes, she's probably still popular.
"Oh, hey!" I say, faking enthusiasm. "It was nice seeing you again." Slowly, I turn around, and continue my walk toward my friends. I lightly punch Max's shoulder then squeeze into the boys' tight huddle. As soon as they glance at me, hands start pounding my back, and fist bumps are exchanged.
"What's up, man?" Will asks. He's a lot taller than I remember, but he's still skinny as ever.
"Nothing much," I respond once we settle down. My back aches already from all the punches and slaps.
Max stares at me. "'Nothing much'?" he repeats, incredulous. "Dude, we haven't seen you in two years! We need to know everything that's happened!"
Before I can say anything, a new voice shouts, "How many girls have you pulled?" It's Allen, of course. I can feel my face heating up.
"Jesus, Allen. Let the man choose what he wants to tell us," Julian scolds, rolling his eyes. He gives me an apologetic look. Julian has always been the nicest of the group, but sometimes he can get a little too parent-like.
Recovering from my embarrassment, I laugh. "Nah, it's okay. I've probably pulled around half the girls in my grade, to be honest." It's a complete lie. Ever since I moved schools in-between Fourth and Fifth Grade, I was just known as the "new kid." I was bullied for the first few months of school, but eventually I blended with all the other students.
Will says, "Dang. Impressive."
Max elbows him in the side then looks at me. "Will somehow managed to woo our middle school class president, but she lost interest when he got a mullet."
Allen snickers, "I'm surprised he managed to get her in the first place."
My eyes widen. "Now I kind of want to meet this girl."
"Yeah, well," Will says, and I swear there's a bit of disappointment in his eyes. "She moved schools last year." I pat his back in sympathy.
"You know—" I begin, but a commotion distracts me. I turn my head, just in time to see a girl in a tank top and sweatpants shove an Asian girl to the ground. For some reason, the Asian girl looks familiar, but I don't know where I've seen her.
"Hey!" Julian shouts to the girl in the tank top. "Allison, what was that for?"
Allison only shrugs and says, "My bad."
I jog over to them and reach out my hand to the girl on the ground. She takes it. "You okay?" I ask, hoisting her up onto her feet.
"Yeah, fine," she says, letting go of my hand and dusting dirt off her jean shorts.
I'm about to ask her if I know her when a loud voice cuts through my question.
"Jackie! Over here!" This comes from a girl in a blue top and white skirt, who I vaguely recognize from my elementary school days. What's her name? Harper? No. Helen? No. Heidi? No way. Hannah! That's it. She was the kid who always cried when she didn't get her way, and bullied other people into doing her things. Man, I do not miss her.
The girl I just helped up, who I assume is named Jackie, whips her head in Hannah's direction and immediately goes pale. She turns to bolt, but ends up running smack into me.
"Woah, woah, woah," I say, clasping my hands on her shoulders to steady us both.
Her face turns even redder as she apologizes. "I'm sorry. Sorry. Can you—can you move? I need to get out of here."
"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me why you're running," I say. "If she's bothering you, just tell me."
Jackie's expression morphs into confusion. "Look, Nick, you don't even know me, so why are you trying to help?"
"Well," I note. "You obviously know who I am. How?"
"Just—just let me go," she says, trying to wiggle out of my grasp. It's only then that I realize my hands are still on her shoulders. I carefully take them off, but when she tries to maneuver around me, I block her. My shadow completely swallows hers.
"No," I say as defiantly as I can. "How do you know who I am?"
"I—we went to Elementary School together," she says, almost sounding reluctant.
"We did?" Is that where I recognize her from? But I didn't know anyone named Jackie in my grade...
She tries to get around me again, but again, I block her. "Wait," I breathe, remembering something. "Jaclyn?"
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What do you think? Should I turn this into a story and continue it?
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