Emily Pye
World Lit Honors
Ms Tompkins
4-23-15
Black and red.
Black. Black is the only thing she sees, but there is red lurking beneath her skin. Her infuriation completely encompasses her as the color scavenges through her body, enthralling all the nerves in its’ path.
Sarah is angry.
She is too angry to even try to console. One word could ignite the fire that is just waiting to be released, but no one came close. They stand a safe distance away as they speculate her stalking towards the only other person on the field that did not have to strain their neck while addressing her. She traverses across the field, sinking slightly with each step, moisture from the recently watered grass pooling beneath her feet. She crosses the defined white line that marks the half, and continues to move swiftly. With an outstretched hand Sarah tugs at the sleeves of her target and her voice resonates with a tone demanding to be heard and understood,
“Can I speak with you Melanie?”.
Melanie did not perceive the statement as a question, which is what Sarah intended. Melanie turns her body towards the source of the inquiry. Her arms sway towards her coach, alone in the fact that they are the only part of her body that is limber. Melanie's stature swells then releases, preparing itself for the potentially volatile conversation.
Black.
Melanie averts her eyes from the icy ones that are boring into her forehead, ashamed at her sudden lack of confidence. She surveys the ground and studies each and every blade of grass that seem to crumble beneath her coach’s feet.
Then she glances up.
She sees her team.
Her second family. The girls that she expects greatness from, and they the same from her. All the years that pass will never be able to wither away the strong bond that they have formed. They are all staring longingly at her, their gazes laced with respect. And as she makes eye contact with them, a slow nod of their heads signifies a silent agreement.
Melanie looks to her arm, the muscle being contorted by a strip of fabric, causing a slight divot. That elasticated, flimsy, strip of fabric with the word ‘Captain’ scrawled across it is supposed to mean something.
She needs to make it mean something.
Red.
Melanie raises her head and meets Sarah’s frigid glare.
“Yes, yes you can”, the words flow out of Melanie’s mouth eloquently, each word punctuated with assurance.
The following seconds filled with an eerie silence as Sarah inhales deeply then spreads her lips, tongue ready to craft phrases that will instill disappointment and intimidation into the fair faced goalie.
But she withdrawals.
Her hands pressed to her lips, creating a physical barrier between her relentless words and her player. A pensive look replaces the previously enraged face. Melanie knows that this is not a surrender, but a pause to contemplate how she will destroy this determined teenager. Or how she will try to destroy her.
Black.
Sarah breaks the silence as she spits, “I would not be showing such disrespect to my coach if my team performed the same way that your’s did out there”, the words were delivered with venom.
Melanie’s body remains in the same place as before, her warm eyes never leaving those of Sarah’s, the contrast only adding to the tension of the conversation. The lack of submission from Melanie is the reason that the silence is now filled with laboured breaths. Sarah explodes,
“I do not condone any of what you did out there!”, taking a moment to regain her cruel composure then seethes once more,
“My teams do not, under any circumstances, lose games. I gave you the captain spot because I thought you could use your size to keep my team in their place! Not become a gentle giant! I can take away that band just as easily as you lost the game”.
Red.
After the onslaught was finished, Melanie analyzes her following statement for a few seconds then she speaks with conviction, “Well while your team may react well to those fear tactics and constant demeaning reminders, my team works as hard as they can to impress a coach who is not worth their sweat. They give one-hundred and ten percent every time they step on to that field, yet if the result is not a win then why should they even bother playing, right? If I am not mistaken that is your philosophy”.
Melanie is astonished at the words that she let spill from her mouth. Yet she is more astonished with her usually assert coach’s reaction, as Sarah’s face is no longer visible.
Their strained eye contacted finally broken. The hostile situation has finally concluded. Melanie won. She finally did it.
The image of Sarah trudging back to her car in seek of refuge becomes ingrained into Melanie’s mind.
As soon as she manages to deter her line of sight from the dejected coach, Melanie is swamped by her teammates. They all speak at once and as a result a chorus of, “You did it”, “Thank you”, and “We owe you so much”, engulf Melanie’s senses.
Black.
The black is gone.
Replaced by the red.
Red is the only thing she feels as the warmth from her teammates completely envelopes her. The red is no longer restrained beneath her skin. It radiates off of her. The array of beaming faces helps to incite a feeling of accomplishment.
The loss of the game may have been black, but the ending result was a vibrant red.
