Higher, Faster, Stronger

He kind of regarded me like a cat that seen another cat. I tried to look nonchalant about it but I must say that the attempt probably failed miserably.

"Why." It wasn't even a question; he was demanding I tell him. I ticked off the reasons on my fingers.

"1. I'm hungry. 2. It's a good bet you are too. 3. You look like you're going to kill something. And if you went for ramen with someone like Nate, he'd probably annoy you so much that you'd drop kick him on his sorry butt halfway to Africa."

"You're depriving me of my time to beat up Nathan? Well that's just not fair. What would I get out it?" I knew he was teasing me. Sarcastically too, in accordance with his character.

I put on my most dramatic act. "The thrill of actually being a good person and making Nate's day by not beating him into a bloody pulp."

He snorted. "Heck with being a good person, if I can beat someone into the consistency of orange juice pulp, I'm game. Especially if they're lacking a brain."

"If we get flamethrowers, then I'm sure the cheerleaders have so much hairspray in their hair that we could start a bonfire, pillage a few corpses, and roast the carcasses of the officials over the dead bodies of our foes."

He snorted again. "How I wish. I don't have a good change of clothes and I smell like a Hun that has been pillaging so I'll take a rain check. How's Saturday?"

"Works for me. Want to invite anyone else? Neil, Hannah, Nate? How about Kael?" Fine, so I was pulling his leg on the last part but give me a break here. All of a sudden, the locker room door flew open and Nate and Keeg came tumbling out, trying to kill each other. They were exchanging pleasantries, such as "You stupid mutt!" and "You blockhead." Nate and Keegan just seem to hate each other; either that or it's some sort of demented rivalry.

"No. We'll talk later because right now I have to break our center and the idiot apart, like the retards they are.

I cringed. "You grab the mutt and I'll grab the moron." While Derek had Keeg in a headlock, leading him away, I was dragging Nate. By his ear mind you, for interrupting my conversation.

"What were you thinking?" He launched into something completely meaningless and I just responded by whacking him in the head.

Derek retreated into the locker room and I can see some of you right now. He actually did kind of smell nasty. Hey, no one's really a spring chicken after pummeling big hairy men for a few hours. Ew. I was on my way to the girl's locker room to shower. Mom was right. Just cause I was playing with boys does NOT mean I have to smell like one.

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As I was on my way back to the locker room, an old man stepped in front of me.

"Excuse me young man, where is the concession stand?"

"It's up the hill on the left. But I'm a girl, not a boy."

He peered closer and let out a small laugh.

"I'm sorry, but in all those pads you look like a boy. Thanks for your help."

I hate doubting myself but this was a whopper. Was this how everyone saw me? I don't get self-conscious very easily but every female has at least once or twice in her life. I ran dead on sprint to the locker rooms, pulled on a swimsuit and just let the hot water rain down on me. Was this how the world saw me? Was this how all my girl and guy friends saw me? Derek? Mom even? It was rather maddening.

"Calm down!" I had to tell myself. My brain was going into overdrive over one little misunderstanding. He probably had cataracts or something. Poor old guy. It must reek getting older.

I stepped out of the shower, after scrubbing and washing thoroughly. Even in the dusty mirrors, I could tell my hair was getting longer. It was now past my shoulders by an inch or two.

At dinner, Mom commented. "Sarah, do you want to get your hair cut? It's longer than you usually keep it."

I shook my head. "No, I think I'll keep it long for now."

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Even though I hadn't considered it before, I don't want to be thought of as a butch chick with no amount of estrogen from all the time spent around the boys. I spent so much time trying to get on the team and improve myself that had I let myself go? I kept having images, ugly ones, flash through my head. I was sort of wondering how other people saw me. Did they see me as another guy, making jokes about bodily functions and jock straps!? That would be, for lack of better word, horrifying. Mortifying. Any other word that ends with 'fying' that has to do with me being scared out of my pants.

I mean, you always read stories of girls going from most unpopular to the prom queen in schools. I knew that would never be me at all. Up until now, I never really thought too much of what I looked like. That type of story happened to girls with Hannah's sweet personality and a hobo's exterior. Not me. I'm definitely about as sweet as licking barnacles off a boat.

When the logical part of my brain was working, it pointed out that each person would view me differently in a way. It was just overall that I didn't want to seen as a gorilla with cleats. I don't know, I could be completely talking out of butt, but (ha ha) I had an urge to look nice. It seemed to go against everything I had ever seemingly stood for.

Pro: I still loved football

Con: I don't want to be seen as a boy

Pro: I'm relatively toned

Con: I wouldn't touch a skirt if it had a pass for a lifetime of free anime on it.

Pro: I have friends like Iz who would have no problem giving me pointers.

Con: I don't have too much time to spare.

I think something just erupted in my brain. Scratch that, it was my brain leaking out. Darn it if it wasn't the Little Explosion that Could.

I wasn't able to get any sleep, even after a game, which is odd. You would think that after being landed on a few times, your body would be aching for rest. Stupid brain. I blame it for the world's problems.

Mom was still downstairs, listening to the TV as she read the paper. It was about 10 but I didn't really care. I trudged downstairs, looking like a train wreck and plopped down on the couch next to her and put my head on her shoulder. She gradually dropped the paper and looked over at me.

"Are you feeling sick, sweetie? You're normally dead after a game."

I moaned. "I wish I was sick. It would explain the dead brain. Mom can I talk to you?"

"Something tells me this is a hot cocoa moment. Want me to whip some up and then you and I can talk about whatever's bothering you?"

I nodded. I love my Mom and not many people can say that. She must have been Florence Nightingale in a past life or something.

I wrapped the blanket that drapes over the couch around me and sat cross-legged on the couch. The news was on and someone had won some sort of golf tournament. I have trouble paying attention to things when my brain is going to fall out of my ears.

Lots of steam interrupted me. It was the mug of cocoa that mom placed in front of me. I shook my head out of my reverie and accepted it with a smile.

"Aww, you even put the big marshmallows in like I like it!"

She smiled, maternally. "I had a feeling it was a big marshmallow occasion. So spill. What's on your mind?"

"Don't laugh," I warned. "Do you think other people see me as a boy?"

She frowned. "What brought this up all of a sudden?"

I explained about the old man and that I had a feeling that most people thought I acted more like a boy than a girl.

"Well, honey, if one old man has vision problems you can't go nuts over it."

I shook my head. "No, it's not even that. A lot of people treat me like a boy. All my guy friends do."

It was true. I'd be a boy on the team one minute but then in the halls girls looked over me like I was trash. Some guys don't like dating girls who are stronger than them. I've heard comments that, "she's so butch…" and things like it. Before, I thought it was just jealousy…but now…it only seems like a bad thing. And while it's true that I generally don't care what people think of me, that statement only usually applied to the other idiots that roamed around my school. People like Iz, my friends in other words, have never said anything…

See the odd thing is, I consider myself a pretty strong person.

For the first time in a while, I felt completely vulnerable to everyone. Everything. Hormones reek.

I tried to tell myself I was being stupid even if I felt otherwise.

"Hmm… Tell you what. If you really feel like you need a change, I'll take you shopping for some new things. Besides, you're growing like a weed and I daresay you need some new clothes."

Mom's statement snapped me out of my reverie. I smiled and finished up my cocoa in one big gulp. Mistake number 2.

"OWW! BURNED TONGUE, BURNED TONGUE!!"

My mom kind of sweat dropped at that one.

"Maybe you have been with guys too long."

"Mom!! SO NOT HELPING!!!!"

At the mall I set some ground rules with Mom for clothes.

"Nothing that screams, 'hooker', ok? And I generally try to avoid overly tight clothes. Identity crisis or not, they just feel like plastic that's been melted to your skin."

She smiled and pulled me toward juniors.

"Come on my Cinderella in disguise, let's make you ready for the ball."