The Way She Feels

She felt confident as she went onto the field to perform. Now, as she went through the routine, she began to question her confidence. Barely the end of the show, she was out of breath and shaking from exhaustion. The judge didn't help her pridicament, closing in on her and following her with his eyes, speaking into his recorder.
At the end of the show, she was hot, dripping sweat, and exhausted. She knew they had not done well, as did the rest of her team. But they pushed it all behind them and sat in the stands as another and final team showed up for the competition. Then, the awards.
"In third place..." Rang the annoucer's voice as they were mentioned for every award. Her eyes grew wide with disbelief. Third place? He's going to be majorly ticked... She thought, though unallowed to speak while at attention for award presentation.
"Be proud of who you are." One upperclassman advised.
"It's not so bad, really." Another encouraged. Still, everyone was in a foul mood, especially after the rain had soaked them thoroughly. Third place all around; never in their history had they ever received third place in anything...


She sits on the bus now, still in uniform and on the way home. The bus is dark and cold; another steady rain is falling down. No one is joking now, like they did on the bus ride to the competition. Everyone has received a depressed and angry disposition. They talk constantly about last year, and what all the did wrong, and how much they hated a certain member of the team. No longer were they reciting the music they had learned, but instead were singing the music of despair.
Plip. A drop of rain had entered the bus, and was splattering onto her head. Plip, plip.
"Size does matter!" Someone mentioned. "When have you seen a Class A rank first overall?"
"And she was always out of step, too!" Another remarked angrily, right beside her. "Last year we were much better..."
Keep your snide comments to yourself! And stop talking about 'last year,' it's here and now, not past. She wanted to scream, but sorrow and anger clung to her throat. She would not scream; all she wanted to do was lie in bed and think of nothing but peaceful slumber.
Plip, plip. A flashing light from the bus in front, a strobe light, made all the trees whizzing by look like slow motion. An eerie effect. Plip, plip.
I hate that stupid, stupid raindrop, the talk of last year and how bad we did, and I hate that strobe light! She screamed in her mind. She sat, gloomily, in her seat the remainder of the bus ride. Now there's only tomorrow... and I have to work on homework and then Monday. He'll yell at us for sure...

YEP- nope

There's this thing at some mall near here called the Youth Escort Policy. Yeah, that's where people under 18 have to have an adult escort at all times.
STUPID! That's like the last thing we want...