The whistle blows and the mashing of bodies begins. I sit on the familiar bench, behind the coach, furthest down the line. Dressed in all my gear and ready to play.

At least that's what I remember. That excitement, uncertainty, even that sense of fear was a welcoming emotion. It all reminded me that I was, in fact, alive.

But now I sit up in the bleachers, my body cold from the cool morning air as I stare down into the dead and silent feild below. My arm is broken, it hurts to breath and to boot I have been told I'll never get a shot at being in the spot light again....Though I never really understood what a spot light had to do with football. I mean isn't there enough lights around the whole field and or stadium??
Of course when I asked about it all I got was a dull "Are you serious?"

So each and every morning I come her to sit, to think, and wonder what went wrong? Right before the practise begins, where I take my leave to go ponder somewhere else and lick my wounds in my pride. I was the one with the 'most potential' and the 'best one' yet. So how in the hell did it happen to me? More over, I was right in the middle of everyone and yet it was only me.

I don't mean to sound selfish, but come on!

-sigh-

All in all I guess it ain't sooooo bad. I mean I can spend more time with my studies, and persue other intrests once I heal up. Hell I might even go to college and study chaos theory to try and explain why a car might drive into a stadium field during a game.

I also didn't know watching football was just as fun. I even get to sit on the sidelines. But in all these mixed up emotions, the one thought that stands out the most is 'Will I always be on the sidelines?' Football isn't everything to me, yet it still it is so painfull to let it go.


-bell rings-

He stretches lightly and looks at the random short er very short story he just wrote for the in class assignment. Deciding it was good enough he grabbed his bag, threw it over his shoulder and put the paper on the teachers desk as he walked out of the class and into the narrow hallway. Which was full of students, it was a wonder why they just didn't build a new school. Being big did help though, people were afraid of bigger people, it's an instinct after all, so people generally get out of your way.

4,000 students just in his grade. And that's only an estimated amount that will actually graduate. Over populated was a word that often came to his mind and he tended to think that if a group of people went missing no one would notice right? Right?
Of course those were just silly thoughts that amused him while he waddled around corners and up stairs and through the ignorant little bastards that liked to talk in the middle of the hallway. He often associated himself with a group of penguins. Huddling up in a big circle for days at a time, trying to keep warm, trying to hold the things most precious to them, trying to keep them safe.

Personally, he didn't think he looked to good in a tuxedo... nor did he have an egg to carry or anything precious for that matter. If anyone wanted to steal his homework he was more then obliged to let them have it. He did have one thing though that was very sentimental to him. A silly little drawing someone had made him.
It wasn't a very big thing either just a little image, but no one ever gave him anything before. It was back in his french class a year ago. He woke up to the girl sitting next to him drawing on his binder, didn't say or do anything though. Knowing she was bored with even the damn teacher looking up french words...if she even knew how to use a translater/dictionary. But he took his pencil and joined right in with her doodling.

She smiled. He was wide awake then. She wasn't the prettiest of girls though she wasn't bad looking, but she had a wonderful smile. Continuing with thier doodling they managed to cover one side of his binder in random little designs until it looked like something out of a picturika game.