I sat on the stairs one day. It was early in the morning and a school day. I had no definite “kick it” spots that welcomed me to stand and listen as a group of flamboyant teenagers rummage on about the sweet nothing of naive adulthood. I was so small that people were completely oblivious to my presence and ,therefore, almost tripped over me on their way down the steps. So there I was, solitary and unnoticed, on the stairs with my chin cupped in my palm like it was meant to fit there; my lips poked, eyes wide, and my breath steady. To my dismay, I looked around and saw the cliques and crews everyone associated themselves with.
My eyes then were caught by a boy I couldn’t miss. He didn’t walk in from behind me. I didn’t see him enter the halls from my line of vision. He just appeared.
He strutted a short distance to a group of other young punks who stood by the Activities Office. The four long strides he took defined his personal bias of himself. I. Am. A. Skyscraper.
He showed this not only because of he was soaring at 6 foot, or more, but because his head was held high and his shoulders were back. I guess you can call him little presumptuous since he claimed to be the best at what he does; in sports of course.
And unlike most giants I’ve known, he didn’t slouch like he hadn’t grown accustomed to being so tall. His steps were long but not miscalculated like he couldn’t find the correct spot to place his foot down.
And here was this guy, wearing black and yellow Adidas basketball shorts and an Adidas “Phenom” t-shirt to match, along with his yellow, Adidas mid-calf socks and Adidas slippers like he walking around a 24 hour fitness gym and not a place of education. He was so big though, he probably had trouble finding jeans that actually fit.
I seen this boy several times during my days walking through my Colorado high school. His smile was hard to miss although most people had to look up to see it. He smiled at everything and everyone, like there was misfortune in the world around him. He was a interesting giant and made someone want to know if his parents were as long and towering as him; maybe even his siblings.
Being so popular for his role in athletics, it was little to no effort to learn the simple facts about him.
Why didn’t I have any classes with him? He’s an underclassmen.
And that tall? Yeah, I know right but I think he started school late, though. Late birthday
Is he from here? Born and raised, he’s from Park Hill, though.
Is he cool? Yeah he’s cool.
Obnoxious? Can be.
God, it must be hard to find a girl. A least one as tall as him. Yeah, but he does have one and she’s actually really short. Funny Right?
He looks like a trouble maker. Nah not really. Plus he pretty much gets away with anything because he’s the star of our school.
I see. Yeah
During a football game he stood with his friends and teammates. He heaved in air that was dry and crisp and it hurt his chest with a feeling of suffocation. It was going into the third quarter of the game and his school was up 14 points. The 6 foot something skyscraper stuffed his hands in the pockets of jeans, which he usually doesn’t wear but its cold and he wanted to look good. Him and some of his entourage make their way to concessions where he buys a hot chocolate, and returns to his seat. He takes a sip of the cocoa and feels the contrast of the hot liquid in his mouth compared to the icy breeze sticking his face.
With two minutes left of half time, and nothing meaningful to watch, he begins looking around the stadium; at the people, the field, the cheerleaders on the track, the opposing teams fans, the silver bleachers, everything. As he turns his head he sees a flash of pink and reverts his vision back to the place he thought he saw. Nothing. Nothing until he sees vapor that was obviously released from someones mouth. Where did it come from? Mr. Giant Man glances down only to see a small girl, wearing a pink jacket ,under a thicker coat, whose hands were crossed in front her chest, whose skinny legs were closely knitted together, and who wore a pink beanie in unison of the jacket. Her eyes were directed toward the invisible action on the field. She stood there solitary and unnoticed.
Who is she? Is she new? Yeah, and she was practicing with us the other day. Her and Michaela. I remember.
“Why are you by yourself?”
The short girl address the unknown voice by setting her gaze first on his stomach then to up to his eyes.
“Because I want to. I was just with someone though. But they left.”
“Okay, but you always by yourself.”
She simply shrugs her shoulders. He was expecting her to turn away and resume her pointless observing but she kept her eyes on him, as if she was expecting him to say more.
“Well don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Don’t be being by yourself.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want you by yourself anymore.”
“Ha! Sure.”
“I mean it.” He smiles. “That ain’t cool. Being alone doesn’t look cool.”
“I don’t care how I look. Besides, I don’t know anyone.”
“Well you know me now.”
Still smiling he turns toward the game, which without his knowledge had started again.
The two teams line up to commence a new play. The game is two minutes into the fourth quarter. His school hikes the ball to the quarterback, who throws it to his teammate, who runs the ball all the way to the touch down line. The opposing side was quiet as the six foot boy gives the people around him fives for the small victory. Wanting to see the reaction on the new girl’s face he swivels around only to find that she is gone.
After a brutal school victory, the giant walks through the doorway of his apartment; he has to tilt his head sideways a bit so he doesn’t bump his head. Completing all the necessary “to-dos” before bed, including telling his mother “goodnight”, the tall boy slumps onto his bed, drapes the covers over his long body, and turns off the light.
Cool, I have biology tomorrow. Get through school, go to practice- naw, wait we have a tournament huh? Blah, this spring league is easy though. Well, I know we got them leftovers. I’m a’ come home, eat that, sleep, eat a little more, then head on over there. I wonder what’s gonna be on SportsCenter though? I’ll see tomorrow.
He switches and turns over for more comfortability.
Damn, what’s that girl’s name again?