It was grade 7, gym class, when it happened. Warm-ups were just about finished, and I was the last one in my relay team to go. My biggest opponent? A stepbrother.

My stepbrother.

There had been an intense rivalry between us for the entire year, and this was my chance to prove myself to my entire class. I wasn’t going to let him win this relay, even if it killed me.

“Hey Chloe, may the best sibling win,” He teased, the words throwing his group of hormonal
preteen boys into a frenzy of screams.

“If this is a contest of the best sibling, then I’ve already won,” Rolling my eyes, I quickly leaned over to my stepbrother to deliver a swift jab to his arm. This was how it always was in our house; one of us would tease the other or brag in someway, and the other would punch the former in the arm. It was all in good fun but with that jab he decided that he didn’t want to just ‘win’ anymore, he wanted to win, or at least that was the look that he gave me after my friendly punch.

The person who had just been running came towards me, hand outstretched to highfive me. A quick change off and I was off like a shot.

A shot that moved at the speed of a snail.

I only had to run forwards to the far wall, then backwards back to my teammates. It was one of the easier activities we had been cursed with during the relay, and I was determined to not be the last one despite me not being particularly ‘sporty’.

We were neck and neck, and despite his friends obnoxiously loud cheering, the only thing I could hear was my laboured breathing. Bless thy lungs for not being able to work during sport activity.

“I dare you to trip!” I called out mockingly. In reality, I didn’t want him to trip, as that would only end up with me getting in trouble for this life or death race we were placed in, but looking back I really do wish that he accepted my dare. If he did, then the embarrassment on my behalf might have been lesser.

“Only if you do it first”

Somehow, he had made it in front of me, ever so slightly before pausing and beginning the backwards run back to the finish line. I was the last one to touch the wall, cursing my arms for being abnormally short when compared to the rest of my body, when I followed suit and began to run backwards.

Looking backwards, I could see Reece in front of me, gaining more and more distance on me with every screech that left his friends mouths. A flash of anger fueled me, giving me more energy than what I thought would be possible to have after nearly 30 minutes of grueling warm-ups.

Now when I said that I would do whatever it took to win, I mean whatever it took. Forcing my slow legs to move faster backwards than they do forwards, I, once again, ended up neck and neck with my stepbrother. Pulling slightly in front, we were about three-quarters of the way to the finish line, and the shouts from my classmates drowned out any thoughts except of how much I wanted to win.

That’s when it happened.

A blur of flesh and a quick screech escaped my lips as my feet decided to no longer work, one getting caught behind the other. It was like a tree falling, only everything was in slow motion. My vision turning from the far wall to the ceiling, and my stepbrothers face shifting from a joking expression (he didn’t really care about the race, he just wanted to tease me.) to one of absolute horror before I stuck out a single hand to try and break my fall.

A heavy thud, and the exceptionally loud gym fell silent.

Until his friends started yelling at him to beat me and make it to finish line.

The only thing that I could feel, hear, experience was a blinding pain unlike anything I had previously felt, the heat radiating from my wrist. It was overwhelming, and despite being wholly embarrassed and willing myself not to cry, thick hot tears started to fall from my eyes which only served to embarrass me further. Looking back, I’m no longer as embarrassed about crying, but more so about what happened next.

Slowly, I made it back towards the rest of my class unable to put any weight on my right hand as I struggled to get up. It simply hurt too much to even imagine. Once I had sat back down (all while still sobbing grossly), my friends crowded around me trying to see if I was okay, my gym teacher joining them.

For some reason, when asked about what hurt the most, I pointed towards my butt. It had sustained a particularly hard bump in the fall, but it didn’t hurt nearly as much as my wrist. Trying to convey my point without words as to how much my ass hurt was fairly difficult, as while trying to speak while crying is extremely hard for me already, it’s even worse when it’s gross sobs that caused snot and other fluids to come out of my face. Unfortunately, everyone decided to stare directly at me while this was all happening, which only adds to the immense shame I feel looking back.

Long story short, I ended up leaving class early to head to the hospital (as I couldn’t change out of my gym strip without crying). After getting into my mother’s vehicle, she only had one thing to say:

“You better f@&*ing hope that you’re wrist is broken or else you’re going to be in so much trouble.” (I can’t actually say what she said, but I can tell you, dear reader, that she was not pleased to have to drive me to the hospital)

In conclusion, never, ever, say that you’re willing to win no matter the cost if you don’t want to end up with a possible fractured wrist, wounded pride and an overall loss pinned to you for the rest of grade 7.

Trust me on this one, I know how it ends up.

(If you’re wondering, it ends up with a cast and having to have a bag wrapped over your arm while showering with someone else washing your hair. Very humiliating, and I do not recommend it.)

 

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Feature image

“neon signs”, worldoro, tumblr