All Eyes On Me
Chapter 1
From the few days I first spent with him, I knew my life was a joke. I had so many friends that claimed there was something special found in every one us, that we all had a part to play, but damn, I felt pretty useless when he was around. He had traveled nearly half the world in the limited years he had spent here; he had made a promise to protect the world from itself, despite his true desires; and nobody could deny his strength both physically and mentally.
Only once in my small life did I ever see him break down into nothing. And that was in my final breath of light.
Months from now, if you were to tell me I became the most wanted person in all of the six continents (I think we can exclude our chilly friend in the South), you just might be lucky enough to receive a fair warning. And if you were dumb enough to tell me a second time, I would swing my artificial leg at you and call the cops.
No, probably not. There's too much work involved in taking off the leg. But seriously, my dad's a cop. I wouldn't try anything.
I was still sort of innocent. If by innocent, you picture a teenager on a million different type of medications and eats healthier than the Olympic athletes. Yeah, why not? My soul for the most part had a clear conscious. My immune system, not so much. The only guilty things I could probably nitpick would be my bipolar hormones and that one time I practically sealed my fate of never walking into another Wal-Mart again.
A story for another time perhaps if I am not gone before then.
The fact was, I was the only one-legged girl in all of Riverside, Arkansas that attempted at a sport which required nothing but feet. Probably the only one-legged girl in general if you didn't count the neighbourhood's alpha cat. The only difference was that I had received my "battle scar", my leg amputation, from type one diabetes that had smashed my glucose meter. And I wasn't a cat.
I liked to play for a recreational coed soccer team that ran it's own rules, rather than the county. It was my only option since I had been denied by the school board four years in a row, starting seventh grade.
Nobody liked the idea of a handicapped playing alongside their healthy children. They were all afraid of me - afraid that their angels sent straight from the skies would be plagued with my amputeeness. It was deemed unsafe from then on to have metal flying across the field. The Riverside Soccer Association had taken pity on me, and although that was great to at least have some kind of vent, they tried convincing me of the perks of standing in the goal and the advantages to being a seat-warmer.
Fortunately I was better with people than I gave myself credit for. Yeah, I ended up taking some hits under the net when the goalie got antsy, and I'd be lying if I told you I hadn't succumbed to my weak thighs more often than I should have. But I was doing them a favour at the same time, so I never did find that stop sign. Not on the field at least.
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I despised those days and I can't say I would love them if I ever returned, but I know it would be nice to have my old life back. My old, ignorant life.
I can still recall the fateful day when I first laid eyes on him. It was late afternoon, early evening, somewhere around four maybe, right when I escaped the treachery of the sickening perfume-scented clothing centers my mother had drug me through for school.
"Mom," the most common phrase you would ever hear from me. I may have had a limb missing, but I still had regular teenage hormone release. I was still a sixteen-year-old girl. "Mom! Just for an hour," I pleaded. "I suffered through your nail appointment. You owe me. If it's about acceptance onto the school team, I promise, even if it doesn't work out, the extra work won't go to waste."
"Sheesh, the nail salon wasn't that bad. The lady only asked if you wanted your nails done. You didn't have to be-"
"She was practically forcing me to-"
"She was just doing her job."
"Of bothering me?"
My mom had slammed the brakes in the middle of the country road that rarely had more than three cars on it at once. "How about this: I drop you off at the fields for half an hour, and I go pick up some Chinese so I don't have to listen to you sass the nail lady. Lord only knows what else you might find to gripe about next."
I was going to object to the Chinese since it wasn't highly recommended from my doctor, but Asian noodles had sounded great inside of my rumbling stomach. I nodded my agreement and allowed her to drive me to the fields.
The Riverside Soccer Association was a recreational soccer place where they ran their own rules (but still abided by the basics from the county) and created a number of teams in a number of age groups. It was a wide open space with maybe six fields that revolved around a circular concession stand that sold food and soccer merchandise.
It was huge in size, yet quaint in population.
When I arrived, I had counted a total of four cars parked in the lot. As I trampled the long walkway that lead to the entrance of the park, I noticed on the second field to the right a group of people all standing in a line and statured like military soldiers. In their sight was a single man who paced up and down the line with a ball. He wore a stern smirk as he eyed the group up and down, speaking something to them. I was much too far away to hear, but I could tell he was giving them an order. One by one, they each kicked the ball at him and he reverted it back to a random other in line. It was much more beautiful than I could or can ever care to explain. It was like watching a marching band form a shape on the football field, only in an instant.
It wasn't until he glanced over at me, his look of madness still very lively on his face, did I realize I was staring. I immediately glanced at my ball which was placed firmly beneath my artificial foot and the concrete. He was young, perhaps about my age even.
I proceeded forward onto the first field next to the group, deciding upon a few warm-up shots on the goal. I was never really encouraged to play offense, but then again, I wasn't encouraged to play soccer in the first place.
Although I had heard the stands roaring my name, the movements of those people...clung at the back of my brain. How they could all perform something so...so...robotic was amazing. I had hoped this wasn't a new team, and my hopes had prevailed in a way. Though rearranged would be the better word.
And that's when I saw it. As soon as I did, I knew it belonged to the leader. The one who had been the controller of the actions.
On my way out at the second exit, there was a dusty yellow Camaro with thick black stripes running along it's hood and roof parked in one of the handicapped spaces. I slipped my finger across the passenger window. Despite the outside, which could have been easily presumed the dirt road had found it's next victim, the interior was leather-padded and looked brand new with nothing but what looked to be a little bumblebee car-scent thingy and a soccer ball with signatures on every square inch. This had to have been his, mostly because half of the kids up there didn't own vehicles, especially so neat and clean.
"Yeah, at least he really is handicapped," someone had spit at me from behind. When I turned, the group had dissipated and one of them, a Freshman at my school, came in for the kill. "I saw you earlier today. A wheelchair? Pathetic."
I batted my eyes not a once. If I had a penny for how many times I was accused of not being handicapped, I would have enough to build my own robot leg. Or send my brother to Princeton so he could do it for me. But, I didn't blame him for being disgusted. Earlier while hunting for school appropriate clothes, I sat in a wheelchair. Not because I had to or wanted to, it was because people like him scolded me for not having a liable reason of wasting a space. People wanted physical proof that you were unable. What they didn't get was sometimes handicapped wasn't always on the outside.
I was guilty though. I was perfectly fine without the wheelchair and the parking spaces. It was only my mother who wanted it. My right to them were her advantage. But she was my mother, and I put her through enough before, so I allowed it.
At the return home, I took my food and ran for the hallway. Of course, I was stopped as always. Pills, fruits, pills, juice, pills, late night run with my dad. It wasn't all that bad in the scheme of things. The chewy vitamins were something I always looked forward to.
Usually, I would've been told to sit down and have dinner with the family: My stay-at-home mother who hadn't come up with a new story since the alien robots tried to take over the world; my dad, a cop who was still yapping about where the government went wrong with the alien robots; and my fourteen-year-old Brother, Simon, who was part of the robotics club and was, oh yeah, obsessed with the alien robots. But, I was able to convince her of my overwhelming fatigue due to our shopping spree.
Yeah, my family was pretty much crazy about the cause to the almost-apocalypse. I had become surprised how quiet the dinner table had become after the "Transformers" went into hiding, or left, or did whatever they did. It was sad to hear the sound of silence - the relieving breath after battle.
Only, there isn't a relieving breath at the end of a battle. Just suffering.
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The new coach? I remember how much awe I was in when I discovered that that kid running the group that day was actually old enough to coach. I mean, he must have been doing a good job after what I saw that day, but it was impossible.
That was not the only thing that caught me by surprise. He wasn't just going to be a new coach, no, he was replacing the retired Coach Sanders from the number one ultimate brigade in the association. They were shedding a strong trainer, and gaining a stronger teacher. In what way was that fair?
Apparently, very. Many of my teammates, which was made up of a band of last-picks for the dodgeball match in P.E., had posted on Facebook about this new coach. They were excited for the chance to prowl the top of the charts. It seemed to mean everything to them. Not that we had a chance of getting past the other towering teams who had been waiting for the opportunity forever, but it was just a good thing this wasn't dodgeball.
While they bet their future savings, I was suspicious and slightly worried. I had watched him play a little bit before reclining in the air-conditioned climate of the soccer mom van. His shots were incredible, looking as if they grew wings and placed themselves inside the goal for him. And his dribbling, impeccable! He weaved harmlessly through that whole flock of people. I wished I could do that with my leg, but I would only stumble over it the first try. I remember when I was a decent dribbler. He was going to be a tough component to get around. I had just felt lucky to have my coach against him, and not me.
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So, what do you guys think of the first chapter?
Give me your comments and what you think I can improve on!
I plan to share your feedback and answer any questions with each update
(or have separate updates if it takes too long with the next chapter).
Thank you again and enjoy!
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