Where Hope Blooms

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Hey Guys!  I am so glad you decided to read my story. I am really new to this,  but I hope to grow from this experience. This story is actually based on true events. I  hope you enjoy, but remember to leave some fee-back! There is always room for improvement! 

Ana, 13

"Hey! ...Hey! Over here!" I scream at the top of my lungs, hands cupped around my mouth.

Ted, my younger brother, looks up at me from across the field. He's short, olive skinned like me. Sometimes I think he looks like a monkey, just because he'll look at you with the  serious eyes of one; Always curious, always judging. 

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. Then he looks around desperately for any other open player to pass the ball too.

"Over here Ted! I'm open!" I shout as I'm waving my hands above my head.  Exasperated.

"Yea right" he shouts back.  He keeps on moving back and forth across the field, avoiding the opposing players, while at the other hand, waiting for someone- other than me- to become open.

I pout and cross my arms. I'm not that bad...

I'll show them.

A kid, I think his name is Niko, is trying to get the ball from my brother's feet. My brother is fast on his toes, but he won't be able to hold off much longer.

"Pass the ball man, don't be a malaka". I shout.

He looks one more time around the field. Seeing no other option, and with a look of profound regret, he kicks it to me.

Once I get the tattered ball at my feet I focus on my task: get to the goal.

I start running, flying through the itchy long grass. I'm able to pass offense, pass defense, and then I'm looking towards the goal. All I see is open space; not hesitating in the slightest by how easy this seems to be. With my heart racing of adrenaline, I kick the ball towards the goal, barely making it as it hits the post and travels further into the net.

"GOAL!" I scream as I jump up and down.

Celebrating and basking in my happiness, it takes me 10 seconds to realize no one is celebrating with me. I look around and everyone is still, staring to the left side of the field. Some have their mouths slightly open. I look towards where they are, and I realize why.

There, leaning on our side of the metal fence, with spiked black books, leather pants, and a cigarette in hand, is a young man. Staring back at us.

He is of average height; I would say 5' 10". He has dark buzzed hair, dark brown eyes, and clear white skin most girls here would die for. How is that possible when you live in Greece, a country that never leaves the sun?

I wonder what he's doing here. This is middle school; he looks like he should be in high school. Has to be 19 years old at least... Is he in our grade? ...Does he want to play?... I can't believe he's smoking.

The staring goes on for awhile until finally he lifts his cigarette to his mouth, takes a long drag, and slowly lets the smoke come out. He drops the cigarette to the grass and smashes it with his spiked, leather boot.

He stands from the fence, puts his hands in his pockets, and walks away towards the school as the recess bell rings.

That was so weird.