Diaz Night: A Short Story

We walked together to the field, the spikes on the bottom of my cleats clicking with each step on the parking lot pavement. A huge field with onlookers filling the bleachers on the far side came into view, lit up by the soft evening light. I spotted the girls on my team and my tired looking grey-haired coach. Me and my dad split up, me going to warm up with my team and my dad going to sit with the team parents. As I was passing with my teammates I watched the opposing team carefully. I observed how neat their drills were and how accurate their shots and passes were. They all looked so athletic and that really made me doubt myself. How was I supposed to prove to everyone that I was a good player if I had to play against a team this good? What if I mess up and the other team completely destroys my team? The loud buzzer that ended the warm ups sounded and both teams went to their side of the field. My coach called today’s starters out, and luckily he didn’t choose me. Relieved, I went to go sit on one of the hard metal chairs they provided for the teams on the sidelines. The chairs were uncomfortable but that didn’t bother me. I had other things on my mind. I sat shivering watching the events of the game

When we arrived at the house, I stood there for about five seconds before knocking on the door. They didn’t answer at first, so I knocked again, harder, and then saw the handle start to move. My stomach filled with butterflies as I watched the door slowly open. The face that greeted was one of a two year old, and as I looked up I saw her father standing over her.

As I stepped into the mud room to take off my bright pink rainboots, I knew something was not normal. As I glided onto the sleek wood floors to grab a crunchy after-school snack, I hear my mom descend down the carpeted stairs slowly, becoming aware that this will not be a normal “how was your day at school” conversation. I raced to the cabinet to grab my fix of Goldfish and I sat down on the floor to get a little snuggle time with my dog before my world was turned upside-down.

The day was October 8th, 2014. I hardly played. One school day, my 5th teacher, Ms. Smit said, “flyers for the basketball team on the table” ordinarily I took one. Kids from 4th, 5th, and 6th grade came to try out for the team. After tryouts, a paper next to the nurse's office was hung up. The paper sheet named those who had made the team. Surprisingly, I made the team, most likely from my height. I felt like I shouldn’t have made the team. At the time, I barely started to play basketball. I went to the practices at school and tried to make myself a little bit better, since a tournament was about to begin in a few weeks.

I had spent most of my childhood happy, without much pain or adversity; as a result, the moment I learned I did not make the Junior Varsity volleyball team my freshman year, I was especially devastated. When I showed up on our first day of tryouts I was excited. I looked forward to playing volleyball all summer with my friends. I worked hard, and I felt really confident at the end of the two weeks; certain that I had made the Junior Varsity team. The coaches took me to a secluded room and sat me down to explain which team I had made. I was almost already thanking them, not realizing that they were telling me, "We think that your skills at the moment would shine best on JV2; work on your technique and practice being a leader.”

I walked silently, my converse crunching on the wet sidewalk. I zipped up my jacket and took a sip of my coffee. I slowly walked towards my school when someone's shoulder slammed in to me. My coffee flew out of my hands, the lid came of as it hit the ground, spilling all over the sidewalk. I stumbled as I tried to regain my balance. I hate this small town I thought to myself. When I returned home I arrived to both of my parents sitting at the table. I looked at them with a confused look, “Ava why don't you take a seat,” Father said “we have something to tell you.” I took a seat not saying a word just giving them a confused look. “Ava honey your father got a promotion,” Mother stated “and we are going to be moving to California!” Fireworks were going off in my head thinking of all of the new things I would get to experience.

I could feel the breeze skim through my hair as my loose shirt caught the brisk air behind me. This was my sanctuary, the feeling was bliss. I made my way home, bracing myself for the approaching argument I was about to have with my mother. That feeling of pleasure left my body as quickly as it arrived. I stepped into the front door, and closed it behind me as quietly as I could, maybe she wouldn't notice I was late home. But before I could even take the first few steps inside, I heard mum coming from the kitchen,

I woke up and rustled all my things together and jetted down stairs. I see my mom across the room eating her favorite cereal, Lucky Charms. I slugged around the kitchen still half-awake trying to find a bowl, cereal, and milk. Then I heard a whistle and realized she had my breakfast ready on the table. I sat across from her on the table. The scent of perfume hit my nose, it smelled fruity. Her hair was combed back into a sleek bun. She was wearing a formal white shirt and a black skirt and some heels. I slurped the last of the milk as she was almost out the door. I walked outside and ran to the car. I opened the door and got inside. It was 7:59 am.

I had just gotten home from school and was standing before my front door starring at it in apprehension of what would most likely greet me on the other side. "Hopefully, today's different," I thought tiredly. Opening the front door I stepped silently inside and quietly closed the door then headed towards my room only to pause at the bottom of the stars as I realized there was no sound coming from upstairs like there usually was. I resumed walking up the stairs thinking to myself "wow, for once they've actually considered that they have a son living with them." At least that's what I thought until, right as I was about to enter my room, loud moans sounded from two different directions. "Or not," I thought in annoyance and slammed my door which did nothing to stop the moans.

Our school was never very good at sports and only about five girls would be cut. I was jittery the day that the varsity roster was to be posted; I wanted nothing more than to be part of the team. After classes ended, I walked to the athletic board, where the varsity roster would be posted. I anxiously scanned the list for my name. I scanned it again. As my eyes ran over the page a third time, my heart began to sink. I hadn’t made the team. I was one of five girls who were cut from the varsity team. In a daze, I went to practice. Instead of focusing like I usually did, I went through the motions. The five of us who made up the junior varsity team had a separate practice with the assistant coach. After the sting of failure finally faded, I began to work harder than before. I showed up early to practice and stayed late every day. Every weekend I spent at least two hours on the field practicing. I was determined to make the coaches regret putting me on the “JV” team. As the season ended, I didn’t stop working to become better. Any day that was not too cold, I could be found on the field. When spring came, I joined the soccer team, hoping to improve on my endurance and speed. Over the summer, I spent at least two hours every day running and practicing. When the field hockey season rolled back around, I was ready to show off my skills and make the varsity

I instantly felt dismayed at the remark the coach had said to me and left wondering what I'd done wrong. As I got home, my dad asked me how the practice had been that day. I confided what the coach had told me and he advised me to forget about it and to work hard during the practices. So, every time I played volleyball I played hard and rigorously, even when it was just meant to be for fun. My dad also supported me by taking me to the church building so I can practice there, we'd set up and start doing drills. I ended that volleyball season playing the most with the junior varsity team. The coach congratulated me because he noticed that I had improved a lot since the beginning of the season. Once I began my junior year and tryouts came, I was more confident about my ability to succeed, this newfound faith in myself led me to re-join varsity and to become starter of the

I started to see improvement, and my coach must have noticed as well, because he invited me to come to the varsity tournament that weekend. I was excited for the opportunity to prove myself, but after sitting for the first two games, I worried that I wasn’t going to get my chance. When I saw that I wasn’t starting in the third and final game, I gave up nearly all hope that I would get to play. I was starting to wonder if all my hard work was even worth it, when, all of a sudden, my coach told me to get ready to go in. As I entered the game, I felt a little nervous, but I knew I was prepared. This was the opportunity I had been waiting

It was 11:00 AM, a brisk cold morning, on January 12, 2016. I was on my way to the basketball game I had, and I was nervous. Nothing new to me though, because I am always nervous before a sporting event, but this was a special one. This was the game that decided our season. I always talk to my dad before the game about what he wants to see me do, and he told me, “Act like a leader to your teammates so they will trust you with the ball, and even a clutch shot, also they will all have a good attitude no matter what happens”

Outside as I lean onto the rugged, worn down wall I can see her scarlet dripping face clouded with never-ending tears. My hands are frosted from the trembling weather, and my tears have blocked the sound of cars and smell of firewood. It’s only been three days, yet the feeling of being alone in such a big world has filled us with angst. My mom is right in front of me, through the fogged over window I’m gazing in. She has somehow found a way to fill an empty house with dread, which overbears the silence and covers up the scent of vanilla from the bile filling her mouth. Her pain fills me with dread as I taste the freezing sap from the window seal and catch a slight smell of the pine trees that surround us.

It was a somewhat normal day as it started the constant birds chirping, the smell of pie that the Neighbors cooked, and the taste of morning breakfast. My younger brother Bon and I were off the school that morning. We don’t go to a normal school due to the war. We went to a knight school where they taught us how to use weapons. But what we didn’t know is that day would be the worst day of our lives. While we were gone our mother had been cleaning up the house, the house was hollow wood with no door and one window. It smelled like a farm and looked like a barn.