Higher, Faster, Stronger

Let me just say right off the bat: I am not afraid of confrontation in the least. If you get me riled up on a subject I feel strongly about, watch your back. You won't know what hit you, unless I actually do hit you. Then you'll be feeling it when you wake up the next day.

Another thing you should know about me: I'm definitely the tomboy type. I hate girls who complain about breaking nails or those who pay ridiculous amounts for clothes. A pair of sweats and a good old v –neck will work just fine for me. I've got no time for skirts or dresses especially. You can't roundhouse kick someone very well in a skirt now can you? Besides, fiddling too much with my appearance would take over my mind and push school and sports out.

That's another passion of mine. Sports. I'm great at running and not afraid to take hits. I can't stand 'feminine' sports like cheerleading and field hockey. How much can you really get accomplished in a skirt? They couldn't hack it, what we do out there? Who is we?

Football players.

Yup, that's my sport. Football. Speed, strength, adrenaline and the white-knuckle, rib-bruising fun. Ever since I was a little kid, I joined the boys all the time on the field. Of course, it took some aggressive negotiation to let them let me play. Unless I was with complete imbeciles, my team usually won. But getting to play always got me into trouble somehow. The other team would remark how they'd gone soft on us, because we had a girl. Like having ovaries was a handicap or something?

Please. Then I'd go home. I'd get stares at all sides especially from girls on why I was holding a football and was all dirty.

My dad would take me onto his lap, ruffle my hair and want the play by play. Mom would give a disapproving little smile but it made both of us happy. The only thing that would give me away as a girl on the field was my red bow. Ok scratch that. 2 more: the fact I had long hair and because I was generally the smallest person out there. Small however, does not mean puny. I am admittedly pretty fast for my size but that doesn't mean I couldn't take a hit. Even as a little kid I was the one in the dog-pile. Usually it came down to 2 things: how many people would hit me or if they didn't want to hit a girl.

I'd take advantage of both usually. I mean, come on; one is closer to strength training and the other gave me a chance to run.

Though, I really can't understand why being a girl makes me un-hittable on the football field. A lot of people are under the impression I'd start to cry.

Cry?

Me?

I've haven't cried in a good 5 years ever since my father died. It's just me and mom now. In middle school, before we moved, I was quarterback on the girl's team they had. Mrs. Donovan was my coach. League MVP two years running, thank you very much. She put us through our paces let me tell you. Age was nothing, we were in the weight room and jogging before the sun rose and luckily for me, the school was extremely close to my house. It made getting to practice easier and with a coach of pure steel, getting to practice on time was a must.

In our old school and branching out to high school (up to junior year) the girls on our football team were pretty well respected. Everyone had pretty much an equal opportunity to play if they wanted, boy or girl. We even had a few male cheerleaders. They certainly psyched up the games, home or away. In the off season, I would swim on the school's team, to build strength and endurance. I'd need both on the field.

While all of this sounds ideal, I didn't exactly have the most perfect time getting to be were I am. I've been looked down upon and my permanent record does show a few fights. Good student but brains aren't everything. I do admittedly have rage and attitude issues. Quite honestly? If you're stupid enough to tick me off, you deserve to be verbally flattened. Most of the time, I just focus my anger into the game.

I mentioned moving before. I originally lived in a coastal town, in Florida. It was my junior year when mom got a raise and ended up moving to Kelowna. I didn't know much about it but Canada was something completely beyond my expectation.

I liked the look of it at first and our new house was nice. Needless to say, I still wasn't happy with moving. My friends, my team and my teachers were all left behind, right in junior year! Annoyed kind of didn't cut it. But there we were, at Kelowna, BC. Kelowna High was my new school and at the end of summer I'd start high school.

Mom supported me of course, because she knew I wasn't going into college for football. She knew it was my favorite hobby and it was good exercise. Hey maybe I could even get a scholarship or two? She knew I wanted to head for medical school after high school. Whenever I wasn't on the field, I was off it, tending to those on the bottom of the dog pile. No one ever said it wasn't a rough game. I'd gotten my fair share of injuries too.

The worst one was a head butt straight to my right ribs. Broke 3 of them and I was spitting up blood all the way to the hospital. It was nasty, let me tell you. I missed the championship game but on game day, I was there with my ribs wrapped and dictated the winning play in overtime. I was so proud of my girls.

Football went beyond tradition in our school. It was the main sport for both boys and girls teams. It was a way of life for us and we were proud of it. But then, I had to move.

Who am I? My name is Sarah Hall and this is my story.

I stood at the front of the school in a red short sleeve v-neck and a pair of black sweatpants. I was comfortable anyway. I kept my short hair down and if anyone tried to make fun of my forehead they'd get one of the punches I was famous for for giving a girl from South Beach after they'd just lost. She'd been provoking me all game but no one insults my forehead.

I scanned over the school; it was huge. Really, I hate making a fuss. If people would just leave me alone, I'd be pretty docile. When I'm not mad I can be really nice, and when I am mad….head for the hills. I quietly got my schedule and headed to my classes. The campus only had two levels, even if it was pretty stretched apart. All the class room numbers began with either 1 or 2, which signified levels.

I got to about 3rd period of the day going through what I'd assume was normal first day stuff. No one really made a fuss about me, though I did get a few waves and smiles from other students.

4th period was a study. It was good thing; I had my hands full with Pre-Calculus, Human Physiology, and a couple more classes I'd use the time well for. 2 of my classes involved medicine or the body in some form or another. Gym was the only other class I had that didn't have a book. But it was in study I'd meet my first friend. A girl sat at the far end of the table from me. I just finished copying down my schedule and its rotations when my pencil broke. I called out to her and asked to borrow one.

Hannah leaned over her bag and pulled one out smiling softly. When her hand came back up, I saw she was bleeding through her bandages on one hand. Good thing I carry a first aid kit. I walked over to her and asked, "Can I see your hand? You're bleeding through."

"Oh, n-no, you really don't h-have too go through the trouble." Hannah was soft spoken from the start and stuttered a bit. I was already unwrapping the bandage on her hand.

"What happened?"

"Oh… I was in culinary, chopping carrots w-when I slipped and cut myself. The blade was dull on it anyway." She replied softly. Applying the necessities, I held out my hand and introduced myself. Hannah's last name was Hogan, and she was very shy. Later I'd find out she was in my Physiology class. I asked her about the campus and when I mentioned to her if they had a girls football team here, she shook her head.

This could be a problem.