“I’m open! I’m open!” I yell as I sprint down the field. Cut left. Cut right. Spin. I jump and feel the ball land in my arms. I continue to sprint, feeling my long ponytail fly in the wind. I feel someone right on my heels and two hands on my back. I lose my footing and slide on my stomach in the dirt. “Down!” I hear someone yell. I look at my new shorts, covered in mud and dirt. I love it. 

“You can’t out run me, Chan.” Kyle says. 

“I was going easy on you buddy! You’ll be eating my dust when I run into the end zone on this next down!” I say as we both laugh. 

As I run back to my team, I look over to the sidelines and see the other girls in my class. 

“Oh my gosh! I love that braid. Can you do it on me?” One girl says.

“Are you wearing lipstick!? My mom would never let me!” Another says. 

Ew. Braids? Lipstick? Are you serious? What a bunch of girly-girls. There is no way I would ever let someone touch my hair or face. I make eye contact with one of the girls. She looks at me and laughs. What is she laughing at? She’s the one that looks ridiculous with all that colourful stuff on her face. The other girls turn to look at me. “You’re right, she is a boy!” one yells and the others laugh. 

I am not a boy. I am a girl who likes to play sports. There’s a difference. I just roll my eyes in return. What a bunch of princesses. Who cares what they think. I am having more fun playing football than sitting there twirling each other’s hair. 

I run back to my team into the huddle and say, “Listen up boys. We have one shot. One shot to win the Recess Bowl. Austin, run a slant. Mitchell, run ten yards and hook back. Everyone else go deep. Braeden, find one of us in the end zone. Ready, break.” 

We line up on the line. The recess bell rings. One shot. We only have one shot. “Blue 55. Blue 55. Down, set, HUT!” I take off. The wind is so strong I can barely keep my eyes open. I can feel the dust and pebbles hit the back of my legs as I take every stride and my ponytail moving side to side across my back. I blow past the defense. Wide open in the end zone. It’s like everything is in slow motion. I see the ball, spiraling towards me. I reach for it. Victory almost in my grasp. 

Someone jumps. Oh no! The ball is tipped. I am not losing this game. I dive in the dirt, lunging for the ball, scrapping my knees in the process. Ouch. That’s going to leave a mark. I stand up, football in hand, bloody knees and nothing but a smile on my face.