Home > Creative Writing > Flash Fiction
Created on: May 06, 2011
“You’re a gymnast?!” the girl asked.
He’d dealt with it for years. The laughs. The insults. Sometimes he’d smile, sometimes he’d frown. Rarely did he throw punches. It wasn’t his fault that his mother signed him up for gymnastics when he was little. She wanted to help his balance, and her heart was in the right place.
And gymnastics had helped them. Honestly he was probably in better shape than most of the guys at his high school. He certainly bench-pressed more than they did. He had to in order to compete. Now his plaid shirt stretched tightly across his broad shoulders, muscles strong from holding himself up on the rings over and over.
“Yeah,” he answered the girl curtly. He stuffed his textbooks into his locker. One of them accidentally smushed his lunch bag, but he’d deal. “What of it?” he asked, not expecting her to stick around.
“Nothing,” she said, obviously flustered a bit, if the rising color in her cheeks was anything to go by. “It’s just, so am I!” she said quickly, this time smiling at him.
He looked over at her, his mood changing, now noting calluses on her fingers from the bars and seeing that she wasn’t rail thin like he had first thought. “Oh, cool, sorry I was a little abrupt,” he said. “I get a lotta crap sometimes about it.”
“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that,” she said, her smiling dimming for a second before it came back full blast. “Well, I was just wondering if maybe you wanted to get some coffee after school?” she asked nervously.
He smiled. “Sure, definitely,” he said, his day completely turned around as they exchanged numbers and planned to meet up later. The bell sent them scurrying in opposite directions, but he couldn’t help looking back at her as he walked into his own classroom.
“Hey man, you wanna hang out later?” asked a friend as they sat down.
He smiled again. “Nope, sorry. I’ve got a date with the gymnast.”
Learn more about this author, Kathleen Gilligan.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.
Below are the top articles rated and ranked by Helium members on:
Flash fiction: The gymnast
Tuck. Grip. Extend. Twist. Land. Tuck. Grip. Extend. Twist. Land.
She’d been doing this routine for three days
by Dean Traylor
“Waiter! Where’s my order!” The cigar-chomping behemoth shouted.
“Coming!” Felipe yelled.
by Hope Chow
It had been three weeks, yet her photo, now peeled and fading, kept popping up on lampposts, on railings, on bus stops.
by Allen Gates
Jason Tidwell was four years old when he started participating in floor mat exercises. He moved on to the rings at
“You’re a gymnast?!” the girl asked.
He’d dealt with it for years. The laughs. The insults.
View All Articles on: Flash fiction: The gymnast
Featured Partner
The MAGIC Foundation for children's growth
Major Aspects of Growth In Children (MAGIC) is made up of 25,000+ families whose children (and affected adults) have growth hormone deficiency or other medical conditions which affect their growth. While growth hormone deficiency is the ...more