Dying to be the best

She's always around, I can't stand her. The worst thing, she's perfect, she does nothing wrong. It's time for her to get hers.


1. Meeting her

*Note: This is of two different girls and their views, make sure to see the name in the upper corner.*


        Today was it, I couldn't believe it. I was finally excited for the first day of school, that never happens! I was excited because I would finally be older, not the new freshman anymore. I would finally be the sophomore, and one of the only two on the whole basketball team. The incoming girls would have to look up to me, I was ready. Unfortunately, I was still on junior varsity, not varsity. Apparently the coach hadn't seen my dribbles I had done minutes after tryouts. Well, at my school, it was so unorganized that there was basically only one team, split into two. Here's the backstory. There's of course junior varsity and varsity, varsity being better. Varsity is small, so they just practice with us, junior. Anyways, this morning I walked into practice with my head up high. I knew coach Jones already, how bad could it be? "Hey Anne, ready for a whole new season?" My team mate Jocelyn asked me. "Yeah, finally we're older," I exclaimed. Jocelyn was somewhat a friend, although I didn't know why she was always put in the game, and always showing off. She had almost made varsity, but didn't. "Hey, here come the new kids," She said pointing. I turned to look and saw three new faces I didn't recognize. Three girls were talking, one girl with blonde hair, with with brown hair, and one with black hair. I was immediately drawn to the girl with the brown hair's aura of confidence. As she and the other two girls took the bleachers next to us, the whistle blew. Coach Jones talked about how we were starting a new school year, and new everything, blah blah blah. After awhile he left us alone. "Let's practice our shots" his voice echoed off the gym wall. The girl with the brown hair and her friends grabbed the basket balls. Everyone in the gym started shooting hoops. "Hey, is this where I stand?" The brown haired girl asked me while we took our shots. She took her basketball shot and sunk the hoop. "Yeah, usually," I replied, surprised she made that basket. "Okay, thanks," She said, walking away. I couldn't help but stare at her in the face when she spoke. Something about her eyes were stunning, a green color that glistened in the light. "No" I told myself, "Your blue eyes are better," I walked off. After awhile, the sound of laughter filled the corner of the gym. The brown haired girl and the other two girls from earlier were laughing. She had braces, the brown haired girl. She was a freshman, clearly. Short, slender, pretty. I wiped the thoughts away from my mind again. I felt it coming, once it came it wouldn't leave. "Alright, enough for the day," Coach Jones announced. The bell rang and we were free for the rest of the day. 


        I had butterflies in my stomach the first moment my foot hit the gym floor. Alicia and Katy were right here by my side, I told myself. As we walked into the gym, I saw the sophomores sitting in the bleachers. I felt nervous again. One girl stared at me, I tried not to stare back. We had started shooting hoops and I had asked her if I was standing in the correct position. She looked deep into my eyes before I broke eye contact. I had made the shot, surprisingly. The girl had left, but I had felt her gaze the rest of the period. Alicia and Katy were making me laugh the end of class, hopefully the coach didn't see. 


        The first week of basketball went by fast. I was enjoying being a sophomore already. Soon enough, Coach Jones announced that there would be our after school games and practices again, great. He also announced we'd be testing and having tryouts for varsity. Great, again. Today the brown haired girl came to class early. "Reagan, look," a blonde girl called. So, her name was Reagan. When we got to the after school practice, I saw the varsity girls. They were telling the new freshman what to do. I had to show that I knew what I was doing too. "Yeah, you have to shoot up, like this," I said, demonstrating a move. Reagan and her friends just watched. Probably in awe. After we practiced some, we got free time. "Alright," Mandy, the team's best player, said, ""Everyone is individually going to shoot a shot, we'll see what happens." I volunteered to go first. "Alright, Anne, go," she said. I took my foot and placed it at the tape line, lifted my arms, and shot the basket. I was barely off, it didn't go in. "Next," Mandy said. Reagan had been in line second to me. She stepped up, lifted, and shot. The ball glided into the basket easily. I looked at her again. Dark hair, light eyes. Small stature, big personality. Why wouldn't, "No" I told myself, "no bad thoughts." The next three girls shot their baskets, some going in, some not. When Coach Jones ended the practice, we were free to leave.

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