Fragment 6
December 7, 2009
beep, beep, beep…beep, beep, beep…beep, beep, beep…beep, beep, beep…beep, beep, beep
6:31 am. I reached over and turned off my watch, then set it and rolled back over for 29 more minutes.
Walking to school, the wind whipping my face, I recalled the dream. Crossing 3rd, I was again in my bed on the tall building, overlooking the city before me. Something was different today; something small but definitely there and nagging.
Pops is a man who does not get excited, but last Wednesday he was. Pop’s boss down on the farm is sponsoring any of the employee’s children who want to play a sport. He told me that this was my shot to be the next Raphael Marquez, or Nelson Barrera. When I told him I would be trying out for the basketball team instead, he told me that’s for the Blacks.
Whap
The baseball landed inches from where I was standing in center field. After standing there for a second, stunned from the embarrassment of losing my first fly ball in the lights, I reached over and threw it back to the in field.
Whap
The next fly ball flew over my head, barely missing me. I never even knew it was coming. From the side of the outfield, I could hear the growing laughter. My mind never even registered the third ball that caught me square in the thigh. The stinging welt in my leg was second to the embarrassment I was unable to conceal.
Lowering my head from shame, I was running so fast I almost ran over the ledge of the suddenly extrodinary building I realized I was on.
