Ashley Michelle Volpenhein is not
someone you want to make mad. I unfortunately learned this first hand and never
will I make the mistake again. I still remember the day; the laughter of my
friends filling my ears, the chatter of parents in the stands, swimmers
splashing in the crystal water while preparing for their races. Chlorine was
all that I tasted and smelled. My skin itched from the dried water. This was
what I trained all season for: this was 2013 winter JO’s (Junior Olympics-
which are truly not as exciting or professional as they sound). Snow covered
the ground outside of the large natatorium, while the warm air inside surrounds
me, as did my friends.
“Awh
look who it is Ash,” I exclaimed, a large smirk growing on my face.
“Should we call him over?” Ardy
laughed. Ardy was always laughing at anything and everything, so much that the
smile lines on around his mouth never disappeared from his dark, tan skin.
“Joshhhhhh,” I mockingly yelled to
him as he walked past our Mason Manta Ray bleacher. I knew this was a sensitive
subject for her, which is why I kept going.
This
was revenge for all of the mean things SHE has said to ME, I thought.
Mike, Ardy, and I laughed until our
faces turned red, little did we notice, so did Ashley’s.
“Wow you’re really funny,
Josephine,” she snarled, her nose scrunched as if she smelled a vulgar stench.
All the laughter stopped. All eyes turned to her, even those that weren’t
involved in our conversation. With an eye-brow raised, I considered possible
responses: I could use a cocky response or an apology.
Feeling rebellious, I spoke in a
firm tone, “Oh is that a touchy subject for you, Ashley?” A line appeared in
between her eye brows and her face was a shade close to a deep violet. She
grabbed her navy cap and green goggles, pushed Mike over, jumped off the
bleachers, and stormed off toward the warm-down pool.
“Yikes,” Mike’s big blue eyes
growing even bigger. I nodded, partially terrified, partially proud that I
finally stood up to her. My gaze remained on warm-down pool directly in front
of us.
“She’ll come back,” Ardy reassured
us, “But you might not want to mention that again!” The three of us laughed
again and continued our conversation. About five minutes later, Ashley
re-approached the bleachers. She looked less mad but her eyes carried a wild
gleam. She ascended the bleachers one long stride at a time until she got to
the very top. With her arms crossed and a peculiar grin on her face, she looked
down at us a few seats down. We looked straight back up at her.
“Hey Josephine, come here,” she
called down. Being the gullible, innocent 8th grader I was, I of
course got up and started to climb towards her, my eyes curious like it was
Christmas morning. I reached the second to top step when I felt two hands on my
shoulders, then a large push. I flew through the air, arms flailing and a high
pitched scream escaping my mouth. A second later, about five swim bags were
under my body. I remain laying there, trying to recover from the event that had
just happened. A strong, metallic taste spread over my tongue. I lifted my head
to see Ardy and Mike looking at me stunned and Ashley cracking up. I tried to
get up but my leg gets caught in one of the swim bags and I tripped onto the
bleachers again. Ashley’s face is turned red from laughing and I look at her
with a disgusted look. Every part of my body was ached.
“Really?” I say, tears still
streaming down my face. I don’t want to look weak, but I can’t help it.
“Josephine, I did not know that you
would fly through the air, I am so so sorry. Please do not tell Coach Todd,”
she begged, although she was still laughing. I questioned my friendship with
her.
“Fine,” I said in a sassy tone,
“But next time I WILL tell Todd.”
“Alright,” she hugged me and I
half-heartily hugged back. How could I not forgive the funniest person I know?
Looking back on that moment now, it
appears that our roles in our friendship have become much more equal. Ashley
tortures me much less now, but when she does, I fight back. She has become one
of the best friends I have ever had and we have the best times together. Now-a-days,
I avoid making her angry at all costs, and if I do, I make sure to stay clear
of her for at least a day.
In this writing piece, I think that I did a good job of describing the details of the scene. I feel like I used advanced diction and higher level vocabulary. In my future pieces, I will try to use more sensory details of sound and touch.
