Home
This is ATribeCalledGreg's story and not mine I just posted it for everyone to enjoy.
It was a chilly morning. I got onto the track bus wearning my big grey track sweatsuit.
"I hate this thing," I thought, and then said to my friend sitting next to me. "I feel like a giant dirty marshmellow."
She laughed. It wasn't funny. She does that a lot. That's why I love her.
In between a discussion about sneezing with her and a verse from Big L coming from my iPod, I noticed we a sign on the road. "South Fayette Next Exit".
Crap. We were almost there. It was a huge invitational and I was not looking forward to it. I just wanted track to be over with. Thankfully, my coach showed some mercy on me and only put me in the two mile, sparing me of the 4x8 and mile. But to me, it felt like taking 2 years off an 80 year prison sentence. I hate track.
I stepped onto the track hoping for just a PR. That's all anyone can really ask for. Well, at least anyone in my position, which would be last. Oh well, there's always next year (actually this is the last time I will get to say there's always next year considering I'm a junior).
I knew competition would be fierce, but I didn't know how fierce until it looked me dead in the eye. He was wearing yellow and black uniform. His friend yelled for him calling him "Wolverine". I thought it was ironic because their mascot was the Colonials. Whatever.
As Wolverine walked up to me, I began to see where he got the nickname.
"Ehhh, what you run this in?" he questioned in a voice that sounded like it crawled out of hell itself.
"Well, I don't quite know what it works out to in terms of two miles, but before I crossed the pond I used to run this is just about under 9:30," I answered in the best British accent I could muster.
Wolverine began curling is sideburns and looked over at my best friend. She was looking at me and giggling. Crap, why did she have to always do that?
"You like playin' games huh? Well listen here, I'm the best freshman two miler in the state and I'm going to murder you in this," he warned. As he walked away he took a nail file from a teammate and began to work on his nails which I thought was ironic. Too bad he was right, he was going to murder me. How was this kid a freshman though, he had freaking sideburns?
We ran the race and things went it's course. I ran an abismal 13:50 and Wolverine lapped me several times and won the race easily.
That's when things got weird.
"Dude, that's cool you won and all, but quit lying, there's no way your a freshman."
"Yesssss I am!" he hissed.
"Dude, there's no way you are 14, my Dad doesn't even have that much facial hair. You must be juicin'."
Suddenly he wrapped his muscular hand around my throat and dug his sharpened nails into my juggular. I gasped for breath. He pinned me up against the bleachers.
"Let me tell you something, I am more dedicated than you will ever be."
I tried to speak, but I couldn't choke out any words.
"Here's a little secret, I'm 19. I failed to stay a freshman all these years."
My eyes widened partly from shock and partly because I was about to pass out.
"That's right, I failed to stay a freshman."
"Huh?" I finally choked out.
"I fell on purpose to stay a freshman.
I lose, but Lu' attend the school for X-Men.
So when I get my cap and gown and put the rapping down,
I'll only know half my powers but I spent half an hour.
Like a senior citizen having a baby shower.
Haters want to budget but my fans still love it.
So you can ask them exactly who I are.
Nine weeks, at number 1. I'm a Superstar.
[Chorus:]
If you are what you say you are.
A superstar, then have no fear
The crowd is here.
And the lights are on.
And they wanna show.
Oh, oh, oh. Yeah."
It was a chilly morning. I got onto the track bus wearning my big grey track sweatsuit.
"I hate this thing," I thought, and then said to my friend sitting next to me. "I feel like a giant dirty marshmellow."
She laughed. It wasn't funny. She does that a lot. That's why I love her.
In between a discussion about sneezing with her and a verse from Big L coming from my iPod, I noticed we a sign on the road. "South Fayette Next Exit".
Crap. We were almost there. It was a huge invitational and I was not looking forward to it. I just wanted track to be over with. Thankfully, my coach showed some mercy on me and only put me in the two mile, sparing me of the 4x8 and mile. But to me, it felt like taking 2 years off an 80 year prison sentence. I hate track.
I stepped onto the track hoping for just a PR. That's all anyone can really ask for. Well, at least anyone in my position, which would be last. Oh well, there's always next year (actually this is the last time I will get to say there's always next year considering I'm a junior).
I knew competition would be fierce, but I didn't know how fierce until it looked me dead in the eye. He was wearing yellow and black uniform. His friend yelled for him calling him "Wolverine". I thought it was ironic because their mascot was the Colonials. Whatever.
As Wolverine walked up to me, I began to see where he got the nickname.
"Ehhh, what you run this in?" he questioned in a voice that sounded like it crawled out of hell itself.
"Well, I don't quite know what it works out to in terms of two miles, but before I crossed the pond I used to run this is just about under 9:30," I answered in the best British accent I could muster.
Wolverine began curling is sideburns and looked over at my best friend. She was looking at me and giggling. Crap, why did she have to always do that?
"You like playin' games huh? Well listen here, I'm the best freshman two miler in the state and I'm going to murder you in this," he warned. As he walked away he took a nail file from a teammate and began to work on his nails which I thought was ironic. Too bad he was right, he was going to murder me. How was this kid a freshman though, he had freaking sideburns?
We ran the race and things went it's course. I ran an abismal 13:50 and Wolverine lapped me several times and won the race easily.
That's when things got weird.
"Dude, that's cool you won and all, but quit lying, there's no way your a freshman."
"Yesssss I am!" he hissed.
"Dude, there's no way you are 14, my Dad doesn't even have that much facial hair. You must be juicin'."
Suddenly he wrapped his muscular hand around my throat and dug his sharpened nails into my juggular. I gasped for breath. He pinned me up against the bleachers.
"Let me tell you something, I am more dedicated than you will ever be."
I tried to speak, but I couldn't choke out any words.
"Here's a little secret, I'm 19. I failed to stay a freshman all these years."
My eyes widened partly from shock and partly because I was about to pass out.
"That's right, I failed to stay a freshman."
"Huh?" I finally choked out.
"I fell on purpose to stay a freshman.
I lose, but Lu' attend the school for X-Men.
So when I get my cap and gown and put the rapping down,
I'll only know half my powers but I spent half an hour.
Like a senior citizen having a baby shower.
Haters want to budget but my fans still love it.
So you can ask them exactly who I are.
Nine weeks, at number 1. I'm a Superstar.
[Chorus:]
If you are what you say you are.
A superstar, then have no fear
The crowd is here.
And the lights are on.
And they wanna show.
Oh, oh, oh. Yeah."
