Bus is boarded; uniforms on. Chants exchanged and ponytails drawn.
Erupt in mumbles, music, monotony. Hopes reaching as high as our flying three.
It’s a drive.
We arrive.
Exits. Entries. Our entry; we enter. Voices bounce best off brick when on adventures.
“We enter when?”
“Enter where?”
Enter here.
“Enter there?”
My mind is bare.
(Way to perpetuate the stereotype, girls)
Then, a breath of fresh air – a worn and wilted wasteland of cheery-leaders within an echoing chamber of laminated wood. The wonderland of worries in Seussical succession had seceded. I could think once again.
Ready…?
Good.
We approached as an army; we saluted and we stood.
All we lacked was simply, “Go ahead,” and when they spoke, we could.
headheelsheadheelsheadheels stop
thumpthrobthumpthrobthumpthrob drop
Wrists.
Wrecked.
“Buck up,” Coach checked.
Held my own. Held back tears.
Seventh (last) place. First (last) year.
NHS CoffeeHouse 