High School Dances

Thanks to Kelley Lynn for hosting this blog hop!

My friend (blue) Crazy Carolin, and me (dark red)
Sophomore or Junior Homecoming

As the title suggests, the hop is about high school dances, which is awesome because I LOVED high school dances. I went to every homecoming, coming home, and prom available....and even went to some extras (because my sister invited me to hers since she went to school an hour away from me.)

Though I hated dress shopping because my shoulders and hips are too wide, I loved finding shiny shoes, getting new make-up, getting my hair done, and being the only girl getting ready who knew what she was doing....which was funny, because I never wore make-up to school.

Sadly, all of my dances took place in the era of film cameras so I only have the photo above, and some from prom. This story, however, takes place with Alex and me at Coming Home.

Coming Home for those of you who aren't familiar with the term, is where girls ask the boys, AND then the couple wears the same outfit. At my school's Coming Home, you also had the chance to get hitched. Teachers would pose as ministers and marry the students. They supplied bogus wedding certificates, and cheap re-sizeable rings.

Days before, I'd found out Alex had cheated on me (gasp!) but because I was young and in love, we figured we'd try to press on...if I didn't murder him, first.

Plus, I'd already bought the tickets and filled out the paper work so he could come, so damnit, he was coming whether he wanted to or not!

Alex and Me (and my friend's brother in the background)

After going to Hot Topic and buying shirts that said, "Don't Make Me Go Zelda On You", and getting white tear-away pants from Aeropostal, we were ready to go.

The dance was mostly fun. Most of my friends had found out what he'd done, and so there was a drive-by kicking from my friend Erika, some people would walk by and call him mean names, and I was still teetering on the edge of snapping and punching him in the face at any moment.

Then the DJ made the announcement that the weddings were now open, and suddenly the anger evaporated. Replaced, was a desperate need to marry Alex. Though I was still incredibly pissed and hurt, it seemed like only the rational thing to do. Since I'm the girl, I wasn't going to propose...even if it was a fake wedding. Instead, I decided that if he didn't propose, I'd have another reason to pick a fight with him.

My friends kept running at us, showing us their rings and certificates, and I was oozing with jealousy. I wanted to get married, too! I loved the stupid kid, and it was part of Coming Home! Every time we danced, I looking over, pining at the adorable couples getting married. It's not fair! That should be me!

At some point, Alex disappeared.

After five minutes of pacing back and forth on the dark dance floor, I figured out he wasn't in the bathroom, and the anger started surfacing again. I wasn't sure where he'd gone until a friend ran up to me, grabbed my arm, and dragged me to the vending machines, where Alex was waiting. They both smiled at each other, and she left.

"What is this?" I asked, probably not in a nice way.

Alex proceeded to take my hand, and drop to one knee. "I think it would be in your best interest to marry me," he said, and my heart and stomach fluttered.

"My best interest?" I laughed, not caring if the whole school was staring at us.

"Yep."

I probably played it off like I wasn't giddy, or excited, and when he got up, I kissed him because he was mine, and I was happy. We went to the "chapel" (a small sign at the top of the stairs that said something like "Chapel" or something like that), and when they asked if we did, we said I do. We signed the paper, and were both distracted when the photographer took our wedding picture, so it was the worst picture...ever. (I wish I had a copy to show here, but it's in my storage unit, sorry!)

We spent the rest of the night with my friends, and playing with our rings. Months later, I want to say it was for my birthday, he made a photo collage consisting of our wedding rings, a copy of the certificate, our wedding photo, and some lottery tickets we'd scratched off.

I had a lot of adventures in high school, but this was probably one of my favorite ones. Hope you guys check out the other entries!

Sitting The Bench

This is my excited face

So there I was.

Until my friend, Swaney, convinced me to try out for the soccer team, I figured my life was complete without soccer. Then one day after gym class, she came up to me, and suggested trying out. When I told her I've never played before, she told me it didn't matter, I could run. Sure enough, I went to try outs, and was on the JV team.

The only picture I could find
of Swaney (black) and me (salmon)

It was my freshmen year of high school, my very first game. That glorious spring day, I was sitting on the bench, when the ref blew the whistle and the girls on both teams launched into motion. They ran around on the field, people around me hollered things I didn't understand. I only knew to kick the ball    --> that way, down the field.

"Schmidt," my coach yelled after about five minutes.

"Yea?"

"You're in, sub (enter some player's name, here)."

This was it, the moment I'd waited for, my moment to shine. I jogged to the half-field line like my shin guards didn't stink, totally ready to pull a teammate out and take her spot.  I get to play, I get to play! I was like a puppy with a tennis ball being waved in front of its face.

And then I stood there.

And watched all the girls run, and move, and run and move. The ball bounced back and forth, between players, teams. Girls took hits in the chest, head, thigh, with amazing control. I...was still working on that aspect of the game.

One of our players passed the ball back to another girl on our team. Wait, we're supposed to have strategy here? Not just kick the ball? Suddenly everything I'd been trained to do for the last month or so, was wrong.

I left the mid-field line before the refs could sub me in. "Hey coach?" I asked.

She looked at me, surprised that I was still standing there, "What's up?"

"So...I've never actually played soccer before, and this is my first game. Is it okay if I sit for a little bit longer until I'm ready to go in?" I asked.

She chuckled, "Yea, I'll ask you again in a bit."

I reclaimed my seat on the bench with my other teammates giving me questioning looks. "I'm not ready," I told them.

A few minutes passed, I watched the girls, the way they moved with the ball, they way they played off of one another like an actual team. The game seeped into my veins and ignited something like passion.

"Schmidt?" my coach called. "You ready yet?"

"Yes!"

I ran again to the line, subbed out a player, and entered my first game. The puppy and tennis ball feeling never left me. I ran fast, and I ran hard, and I stole the ball...more than once.

I'm pretty sure we lost that first game, but I didn't care because I was ready to play. After that day, I started every game. I was no longer a bench warmer, and all because I waited until I actually was ready to play.

So, what does this have to do with writing?

It's simple.

Those of us who are unpublished, and un-repped, we are the bench warmers. We're watching the game go back and forth Hey did you see so-and-so just got a deal? They're being published in May 2014, Omg, Omg, Omg.

We're also the coaches who send our star player (our novel) out to play when it's its first time in the game. The agents are the voice in the backs of our heads saying, "You're not quite ready yet," instead of saying, "No, you're not good enough." And so after several moments of panic, and mild depression, we resume editing.

We get scared, we sit down, we keep the bench warm.

But when we're ready, when our star player is ready, maybe we won't rock that first game, but hey, at least we'll know how to play.

Moral: Keep editing, keep pushing. Don't give up. You're not getting rejected, you're being told to sit down for a few more minutes.

Also, stop by tomorrow for more high school stories thanks to the blog hop :)

YA Highway: Prom

Firstly, it's my birthday tomorrow. And you know what would make my birthday AMAZING? If you went ahead...and participated in my Open Mic Blog Hop :) Or at least, stopped by to listen to my entry (that's right. LISTENED, not READ my entry).

Over at YA Highway, every Wednesday, they post a blog topic. This week is PROM. And, since I'm participating in the Oh, Those High School Dances Blog Hop, and I needed something to blog about, I figured, why not?

So prom...

First of all, I bought my dress the morning of prom. I'd gone shopping a million times, but couldn't find the one I really liked. Then, with last minute stress, I figured this was good enough. It cost $150, and the dress tag told me the color was Salmon, not pink, so that was also acceptable.

My date, Alex, and me

After driving around, getting my hair done, doing my nails, and hanging out with friends, we went to the dance. Getting Alex in was a little problematic as he was a senior in college and I was a senior in high school, so I lied and said he was younger, and boom, we attended my senior prom. I'd pretty much been with the guy since my freshmen year (though there were some complications), and everyone (teachers, friends, etc) knew him.We danced, and had an amazing night. 

Then, we went to after prom, which was lovely, and held at a local bowling alley/putt putt golf place. 

I just really like this picture

At around four or five a.m. after prom ended. Alex and I had an hour drive home. I stole a fish from prom, including the fish bowl, and I was really excited. Unfortunately, both of us were unGodly tired, and the music did a poor job of keeping me awake. So he drove, and I put my head against the window...and passed out.

I woke up when I heard the siren. I sat bolt upright when I looked in the mirror and saw flashing lights and felt the truck come to a stop. Alex rolled his window down, we handed the officer our IDs, and the officer made sure that I was safe, that I was okay. The entire time I was silently praying that we wouldn't get a ticket.

This is what I remember from a bit of the conversation.

Cop to me: Do your parents know where you are?

**I hated this question. I hated this question all through high school because I didn't live with my parents. My mother rarely knew where I was. After I'd moved out, it took her three days before she started calling around to figure out where I was. Also, every time Alex and I got pulled over, or got approached by cops (which happened on a pretty regular basis, actually), they always asked if I was okay when usually I was the one kidnapping Alex. I'm pretty sure it was because I was 16 with a 20 year old guy, or 17 with a 21 year old, or 18 with a 22 year old.

Me: I'm not sure...my sisters know where I am though! We're leaving prom! 

**I was faking being calm, and excited, because truthfully, I was terrified. In the back of my head I was chanting, Please don't give us a ticket, please don't give us a ticket...

Cop to Alex: I pulled you over because you were swerving.

Alex: I'm sorry, sir. I'm tired, we've had a long drive.

Me: Look! I have fish!

**I held the fish bowl up and gave him a thumbs up.

Cop to both of us: Have either of you had anything to drink tonight?

Both of us: No, sir
**At the time we were both straight edge. Heck, I was living with the guy and we never even had sex.

Me: We were at after prom!

**By now, I was pretty sure he thought I was at least drunk.

Cop: This late?

Me (or Alex, not sure): It was held in Auburn.

I proceeded to hold the bowl up for the officer to see. After a few more tense moments, and me acting crazy, and trying to get him to look at my fish, and probably the bracelets I got from the tables, and other various crap, he let us go, and told us to be safe. We didn't get a ticket. I held Alex's hand for the remainder of the drive.

We drove home, crawled into bed (because at this point, I was living with Alex). We laughed about getting pulled over, and though 90% of my senior year sucked, this night was one of the most fun nights I had.