One shots are just a glimpse of a story, a scene, something short. I like writing them because I don't have to have every detail thought out, I just write until I feel like it's a good place to stop. Because we all know I am sucky at trying to write novels, and even short stories can give me grief, because blog posts are my comfort zone, but one shots I enjoy!
Here we go.
For as long as I can remember, everything in my life has been a race. When I was little, even raindrops rolling down the school bus window became two things fighting to beat the other to the bottom. My parents used to tell me that I was born to race, I even beat my twin sister out of the womb. But no race had ever affected me as much as I knew this one would. This time, I was racing to win Jackie Garfield’s heart.
I bent down to untie and tie my summer stained shoelaces one last time, sneaking a sideways look towards Jackie. I hoped she noticed that I could tie my shoelaces without saying “around the tree and through the rabbit hole.” She looked perfect, as always, blonde curls, big Disney Princess eyes, an ironed white dress just as clean as my shoelaces were dirty.
The PE teachers had a nice baseball mitt set aside for the winner of the race, but I knew the real prize was Jackie. Her name became my mantra as I pawed the ground with my sneakers and took deep breaths, waiting for the signal.
It finally came. I started off just right, not too fast, but enough that the crowd didn’t forget about me. Got to play the crowd, got to get Jackie’s attention. I watched as other kids started out too fast, just to start falling behind a couple hundred yards later. Suckers I thought, every good racer knows never to do that. I had never made that mistake, I was born to race, I was born for Jackie Garfield.
Just before rounding the last bend I turned my head to look at Jackie. I knew exactly where she was standing. Our eyes met and I even threw in a wink. Watching her surprised grin gave me exactly what I needed to launch into a full out sprint down the last straight of the track. Just call it a Pip Thompson Signature, I loved to surprise everyone with the last sprint. I loved leaving people in the dust of my All Star sneakers.
Most of all, I loved it when Jackie ceremoniously brought me my first place prize. Her smile directed towards me, her eyes bashful as she held out the baseball mitt, her high five and the tingle I got in my hand when for a nanosecond they were touching. A second of perfection with every high five. School years worth of daydreams with every smile.