A 14-Year Old

Note: It took a little longer to come up but, yeah. It's here.

I looked at her once again trying to come up with words to comfort her but I’m just not the type. I wished that I could do something about the matter. I stood her up and guided her to the washroom, she was still crying but mostly sniffing. I let her wash up. She sniffed one last time and gave me this pathetic smile, like it was all she could manage. We both went to the kitchen and I got out a big bottle of coke. Jess came in, looked at Crystal and grinned (she always manages to make an evil grin). She sat on the chair and asked us why the heck we would not stop crying. Hearing this Crystal dabbed at her eyes to get rid of anymore evidence that she had been crying.

Scott appeared a few minutes later and was leaning on the kitchen counter listening to her tale. “He was probably not especially after you, just a usual stalker guy,” he said.

“‘A usual stalker guy?’ Is that the best you can come up with?” I looked at him, half scowling and half grinning.

“But still we should just get him out of our minds and think about how cute Jean would look while she’s bleeding after that P.T Display!”

This comment seemed to cheer up Crystal a little. We tried to laugh and loosen up a bit thinking it really was ‘a usual stalker guy.’ After that we just hung around with Crystal teaching me a little few exercises and Scott showing us this new dance step he had learnt.  Later we ended up playing chess sprinkled with a little dance tournament thing inspired by Scott’s new dance moves. Jess and Rose also joined in sometimes cheering and sometimes chanting, “Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight! Fight!”

End of Chapter 2

Chapter 3: The Stalker Episode 2

School was horrific today. Full of Horrors. I never knew that a little P.T Display could be so painful. I was at the locker with Scott. We had somehow managed to get Crystal’s locker beside us anyway. I sliced my card through this little slot. We had been talking but mostly our main topic was the stalker guy. The thought had not left us in a hurry. We were still talking about it when Hannah and Anne appeared, “You’re needed in the playground for practice, Jean,” Hannah managed to sputter. They both were really out of breath. “Oh!” I gasped and quickly shut the locker handing my card over to Scott. “What?” he called after me. “Put it in my bag in the library and keep it in my locker,” I called back. “Oh, ok. Good luck!”

From that comment I sped past the hallways and a startled Jess and Jenny and Rose who looked back at us wondering where we were going. I dashed through the cafeteria and burst open the door. My P.T teacher was already there, “You could’ve walked. We’re not dying here.” I smiled and joined my group. She announced that we were going to get our tracksuits by the end of the day. Then came the horrific part. She said there going to be 30 displays. Each one needed a main girl who was to be standing out and doing the most difficult part. She said that the girl had to be light and someone who was sporty and had participated in many sporty events. She looked around and finally her gaze rested on me. She pointed at me and motioned me over to her. She asked my name. “Uh... Jean,” I said.

“Full name, please,”

“Jean Z. McCollister,” I replied firmly.

“Well, you do seem the type. So you shall be the main girl for Team Red!”

My team cheered. I went back beaming.

The exercises began. The first one was really easy which involved me doing a few somersaults and finally leaping high over to girls who had bent down. It flowed like this. By the tenth display I was sweating a lot. The eleventh display was something that was unimaginable. The trainee made me crouch down with a girl on either side of me. One had her hand on my shoulder and the other had her hand on my butt. Their other hands were on the back of their necks. It looked like a pretty dramatic pose. A hundred feet away from me three girls were sort of in a pose that had made their backs like a little landing thing. The teacher gave me an explanation. She said that the other girls on my side were simply going to launch me into the air towards the boys. My part was easy. All I had to do was to land safely on them. But not to worry because they had set a few air mattresses within a few feet. I stared at her horror stricken. What if I fell? What if I cracked my skull? What if my teeth broke? Ewww! A thousand other questions flooded my mind. The teacher hurried off. Anne came to my rescue, “Listen it looks hard but believe me it isn’t. These girls have practice for this sort of thing. S’ don’t worry okay?”

“Yeah, so much for being the main girl,” I muttered.

Anne managed a smile and looked over at Hannah who was standing near the teacher. She raised her brows at Anne. Anne nodded. Hannah looked at me and gave me a feeble thumbs up. I rewarded her with this wounded grin. She blew the whistle. The girls tightened their grip and threw me up. For a second I became deaf. Then held out my hands, pursed my lips and prepared to land. A nanosecond later there was a sickening thud. I had fell. This all happened in a split second. I had fell on one girl who was flat on the ground. I had actually lost control and slid on her. Hannah blew the whistle again and rushed to me. Another girl helped me up and walked me to the clinic. At each step pain flooded my body. At the clinic, in bed I discovered that I had sprained my knee, bruised my arm and had scarred my left hand palm.