by AWayWithWords

Created on: July 05, 2008

They were all staring at me. My palms grew sweaty, the moisture oozing down my fingers like the hope falling to the bottom of my stomache. It didn't matter if I could do this long jump, it didn't matter if I won; to them I'd fail, to them I'd look stupid. They would manage to find some way, no matter how pathetic, to ridecule me. It wouldn't matter if I jumped so amazingly that I became the new world champion. They'd still laugh at the tightness of my shorts, and the colour of the scrunchie I had in my hair.

Flies buzzed in the intense head, or was that just my heart? It was going so fast that even I couldn't extract one beat from the next. I smoothed my shorts down with the traitorous palms. My knees had gone weak. Oh why did they all have to be staring at me? It's not my fault that I was better than them and got picked for the team.

My coach looked at me, I should have run by now. I nodded at him briefly. I was going to do this. I could do this, no matter what they all said.

I looked around one more time. They probally weren't even looking at me. They were probally, no, most certainly, looking at the boy at the shot-putt pit beside me. Why would they even waste their time on me? Anger rose in a bile and my knees became rock. I was being stupid.

I ran. The wind picked up speed in my hair, some strands falling loose, trying to tease my attention away from my task. I ignored them and let the new wind take them behind me. The white chalked line was approaching. Something inside me wanted to look, to check no one was watching. Oh God I'm going to fail. They shouldn't have picked me, I can't do this! Should I bail out now and tell them they've got the wrong girl? Five more paces. I have to do it, I have to jump. Three.

Suddenly the white line was upon me and I was in the air. Instinct took over from my pathetic nerves and got on with what it had been trained to do. Legs pushed the air, heels stretched out towards the sand, brain mentally flailed for grasp in the speeding air. Oh my, this is going to be a fun landing. I'm not going to stick it. If I get disqualified....

I didn't. My feet stayed loyal and landed true. My body followed through, my blushing mind catching up elegantly a few seconds later. I straightened and looked about. The group of girls had left, there they were with that boy from the shot-putt. My best friend stood hand in hand with her boyfriend, both clapping in my direction. I tried not to smile but it was already in the process of beaming forth and my hurried attempt just made a hideous grimace appear horrifically. Oh lord, I bet someone saw that.

I moved from the sand to where my coach was beckoning. I'd beaten my personal best and come second. No world record for me then. Oh well, atleast I won't have to be seen in one of those skimpy suit-things.

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