*I'm not doing a preview for this story. Also, each chapter will be in a different person's voice.*
I can't wait any longer. My hands are stinging with sweat, my feet itching in shoes a size too small. Every cell in my body is tensed and ready. And then it happens. BANG! The starter's gun goes off, and I fly out of the starting blocks and on to the track. It's just 100 meters, but what seem to be the most important 100 meters of my life. It may seem like just another track meet, but it's the state finals. And I made it, as the fastest seventh-grade girl on the Donner Junior High School track team. And possibly in the state.
My start is excellent, and in no time, I secure first place and keep it for the rest of the race. My legs are a blur, just barely visible due to their fast motion. My heart is pounding like a runaway train in my chest. And then I cross the finish line. No one's in front of me. I'm undefeated, undoubtedly first.
"Penrose! You won!" someone shouts from the green wooden bleachers in front of me. I pinpoint the noise to my older sister, Kerry. She looks so unlike me, we could have been switched at birth. Next to her is a kid from school. Her name's Samira. That, and the fact that she's a year older than I am, are the only things I know about her.
I get the congratulations over with. The cheering crowd, the constant high fives and slaps on the back, it's just too much. And then, for the first time in my whole life, Samira talks to me. "Penrose? You were great back there!" Thankfully, she didn't ask me anything about my sister, who happens to be the most popular girl in the ninth grade at her school. Kerry's pretty, smart, and friendly. No one ever teases her. I'm picked on a lot because of my bright red hair, different-colored eyes (one's green and the other's blue), and five pet rats (Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, and Epsilon). But after today, after I won the championships, no one will dare to pick on me.
I can't help but think back to Samira's words. I'd seen her around school a lot, and admired her for some reason which even I didn't know. She is just one of those people who's instantly likable. Once, a while ago, the "popular group" at school was picking on me and beating me up with their words. And then Samira interfered. She somehow persuaded them to shut up, and it worked.
Unsure how to reply to her, I say, "Thanks! You know, with all these people congratulating me, I want to change my name, dye my hair, get colored contact lenses, and move to another continent." Samira smiles, as if she understands. "Well, at least you aren't going to get picked on as much anymore. Normally, going from seventh to eighth grades, the bullying gets worse. I should know." Her smile fades, and she looks lost in thought. As if something had happened in her past. As if someone had hurt this instantly likable girl. "Oh, I'm sorry, Penrose. I was a bit distracted there," Samira says casually, as if nothing had just happened. "Remember, if you ever get bullied again at school, then you can trust me to put an end to it." That's how nice she is. I'd prefer her over Kerry as a sister.
My parents take Kerry and me home after the track meet. They're careful not to shower me with hugs and kisses and compliments, knowing my unusual fear of praise. When we finally arrive at the inviting blue house on Main Street, Kerry settles down in her room and starts texting her friends. I, on the other hand, choose to collapse on my springy blue bed. My feet are still aching from the sprint, my heart still racing in my chest. Kerry won't ever experience this. She's popular, but far from athletic, preferring to keep in touch with friends rather than run or swim or play soccer. We have next to nothing in common, so I can't help thinking, "Am I really Kerry's sister? She's nothing at all like me."
I can't wait any longer. My hands are stinging with sweat, my feet itching in shoes a size too small. Every cell in my body is tensed and ready. And then it happens. BANG! The starter's gun goes off, and I fly out of the starting blocks and on to the track. It's just 100 meters, but what seem to be the most important 100 meters of my life. It may seem like just another track meet, but it's the state finals. And I made it, as the fastest seventh-grade girl on the Donner Junior High School track team. And possibly in the state.
My start is excellent, and in no time, I secure first place and keep it for the rest of the race. My legs are a blur, just barely visible due to their fast motion. My heart is pounding like a runaway train in my chest. And then I cross the finish line. No one's in front of me. I'm undefeated, undoubtedly first.
"Penrose! You won!" someone shouts from the green wooden bleachers in front of me. I pinpoint the noise to my older sister, Kerry. She looks so unlike me, we could have been switched at birth. Next to her is a kid from school. Her name's Samira. That, and the fact that she's a year older than I am, are the only things I know about her.
I get the congratulations over with. The cheering crowd, the constant high fives and slaps on the back, it's just too much. And then, for the first time in my whole life, Samira talks to me. "Penrose? You were great back there!" Thankfully, she didn't ask me anything about my sister, who happens to be the most popular girl in the ninth grade at her school. Kerry's pretty, smart, and friendly. No one ever teases her. I'm picked on a lot because of my bright red hair, different-colored eyes (one's green and the other's blue), and five pet rats (Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Delta, and Epsilon). But after today, after I won the championships, no one will dare to pick on me.
I can't help but think back to Samira's words. I'd seen her around school a lot, and admired her for some reason which even I didn't know. She is just one of those people who's instantly likable. Once, a while ago, the "popular group" at school was picking on me and beating me up with their words. And then Samira interfered. She somehow persuaded them to shut up, and it worked.
Unsure how to reply to her, I say, "Thanks! You know, with all these people congratulating me, I want to change my name, dye my hair, get colored contact lenses, and move to another continent." Samira smiles, as if she understands. "Well, at least you aren't going to get picked on as much anymore. Normally, going from seventh to eighth grades, the bullying gets worse. I should know." Her smile fades, and she looks lost in thought. As if something had happened in her past. As if someone had hurt this instantly likable girl. "Oh, I'm sorry, Penrose. I was a bit distracted there," Samira says casually, as if nothing had just happened. "Remember, if you ever get bullied again at school, then you can trust me to put an end to it." That's how nice she is. I'd prefer her over Kerry as a sister.
My parents take Kerry and me home after the track meet. They're careful not to shower me with hugs and kisses and compliments, knowing my unusual fear of praise. When we finally arrive at the inviting blue house on Main Street, Kerry settles down in her room and starts texting her friends. I, on the other hand, choose to collapse on my springy blue bed. My feet are still aching from the sprint, my heart still racing in my chest. Kerry won't ever experience this. She's popular, but far from athletic, preferring to keep in touch with friends rather than run or swim or play soccer. We have next to nothing in common, so I can't help thinking, "Am I really Kerry's sister? She's nothing at all like me."
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