Our Game {MARTINEZ SIBLINGS 1}

By aalii__

371 34 0

Dahlia Martinez. A girl with attitude, wit, and an extreme need for academic validation. Blake Austin. A co... More

Introduction
PLAYLIST
i: the dreaded day
ii: a scene from a movie
iii: not thinking
iv: bad boy
v: butterflies
vi: acceptance
vii: driving me crazy
viii: style
ix: bowling alley attire
x: jam sesh
xi: earn it
xii: donuts
xiii: bored
xiv: nothing special
xv: can I give you something
xvi: great position
xvii: photoshoot
xviii: hugs
xix: the track
xx: soup
xxi: nothing's the same
xxii: kelsey
xxiii: explanations
xxiv: jobs
xxv: baseball game
xxvi: final
xxvii:realization
xxviii: it's too late
xxix: offerings
xxx: love
xxxi: thanksgiving
xxxii: merry birthday
xxxiii: only the beginning
xxxiv: epilogue
SCORED

Prologue

14 2 0
By aalii__

Life. I've gotten used to its tendency to be shitty to me. There's no more playing the victim, praying to god that one day everything will be better, none of that. Instead, I put on my sad playlist, which so far has around 214 songs on it, and cry until 2 am.

People think of crying as such a depressing thing, but I think of it as simply a natural part of life. It's way better than having to explain all the unfortunate cards I've been dealt and getting the stupid pity look. God I hate it when people do that.

So I cry. And I pretend like I have not a care in the world. Except I do of course, I'm a total emotional train wreck, but I have good acting skills. There are times I've felt okay to tell people what goes on, and each time it's the same speech.

A speech of me explaining how my asshole of a "dad" left when my mom was pregnant with my second brother. It's awful for my mom I know, which is why I feel bad questioning if I'm allowed to be effected too. When he left, it was like being put into the second parent role. Making food, payments, helping with homework. It was a lot for an 12 year old.

I have to add some sarcasm into the speech when I make it. But truly, it sucks. Of course I don't mention every sad moment that I've gone through, that would just take too long. The point though, is that I'm extremely tired. Working day in and day out to get perfect grades so I can one day get my family out of worry.

My extreme need for academic validation started from the very ripe age of 8. I haven't failed a single assignment, gotten a bad comment from a teacher, and I've kept a Straight A streak since then. I think it's an anxiety thing. My brain tends to wander to the possibility that if I do something wrong, every bad outcome possible will happen. That's usually how it goes.

And now I'm sitting on the brown wood floor in my bedroom. Moving boxes are scattered everywhere. One with clothes, another with textbooks and journals, and even one full of sour candy. My favorite of course.

I'm nervous to move. Well actually, I feel bad about moving. We don't have the money to afford our current house, let alone a brand new one. But my mom made the efforts, because shit hit the fan junior year.

The bullying started in 9th grade. My first year of high school and I was already hating it. Then my grandparents died when I was a sophomore. They were a huge help financially, and after their death, well I think you get the idea.

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Freshman Year

I walked into school with my head low. All of my friends had gone to another high school, leaving me completely alone. First period was English, which I loved just like everything else. When I made it to my classroom, I felt out of place. We could manage to get me a new simple sundress for the first day, but everyone else was seemingly rich. Wearing designers I'd dream of owning, the best shoes there were, and many girls wore diamond earrings. I was okay with my plastic ones until I saw theirs.

I took a seat next to a few girls, and they gave me side eyes. I didn't mind at first, I was there to get good grades and only that.

"What's your name?" a blonde girl said. I jumped, not expecting the interaction. "Hi, it's Dahlia." I responded. The girl who asked me my name turned to look at her fellow friends. They whispered something and eyed my up and down. I shifted in my seat finding myself a little uncomfortable.

Then the blonde whispered in my ear, "Did you know your nose is a little crooked? And you kind of have big thighs" She snarked. My mouth gaped a little and I sighed. The girls all started at me smirking and I just nodded. I grabbed my books and simply started on the assignment on the board.

──────────

That was the start to a terrible year. New insecurities blossomed and I found myself crying a whole lot more. Death was merely the thing that pushed me past my limit, and junior year...that was the worst of all.

That whole year is the cause of this move. The bullying turned into harassment. I would so much as breathe and suddenly I had guys pushing me, girls telling me how unattractive I was, and no one did anything. When I finally told my mom, she pulled me out and I finished the year online. Yeah it sucked, but it was better than the alternative.

Issues came at me left and right because of high school, some that are harder to talk about than others.

We're moving from a small city in Louisiana to Austin, Texas. Small move, but there was no way we were affording anything bigger. The house we live in now was a small 2 bedroom 1 bathroom. I had a room, mom had a room, and the boys converted the dining room into their bedroom.

I've gotten a few peaks at the new house. It's another 2 bed 1 bath, but we figured the garage was a good space for a makeshift room. It has a medium sized backyard, big enough for my brothers to run and play their sports.

My family has worked their way around problems. We're not greedy for expensive things. As much as we'd like the luxury, sometimes you have to work with what you have. I'm praying this move will be a good change for us. New scenery, new people, all of that.

Senior year. I'm going to work extremely hard. My troubles will always linger, but it's my job to get us out of this situation. Or at least it feels like that.

Don't tell anyone your problems. Stay focused. Graduate.

That's the plan, and nothing can stop me from getting there.

I'm a fortunate person. I've never had many worries growing up, unless you count baseball tournaments.

My mom and dad are well off, I have a roof over my head, a sister who can be annoying but I love, and baseball. It's all I needed then, and I'm sure it's all I need now.

My life feels like the Pinterest picture perfect family. We had money, something that was great but got me put in difficult situations at times. Not that I'm complaining about the money part, more so that people use me for the money.

But out of all the things I had, besides family, baseball is what I loved most. I started playing when I was 4, and man did I become obsessed.

Ever since I started playing, it was what I worked for. Becoming the best. And not to brag, but I kind of was around here. Senior year was the year to be scouted. Making it to the MLB was the dream, who would I be if I stopped now?

What can I say, I'm an ambitious guy. My priorities lie solely in family, school, and baseball. For now that is. I haven't been one to date very often. Most girls who came up to me at school wanted me for either money, or my title of Captain on the team.

I wasn't into flings or being used. Everything in my life was purposeful, except for my occasional party here and there. But I do have priorities, mostly.

My last year of high school.

Do my best. Have fun. Get scouted.

That's the plan, and I don't want anything to stop me from getting there.

──────────

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