Ultimate Frisbee

This was an assignment for writing 2. I was supposed to write it from my writing buddy Abbi's persepective, so here it goes!


The first thing I thought when the boys suggested we go outside to play ultimate Frisbee was, “No.”
The second thing that came to mind, when Mr. Burns said “Yeah, ok,” was “No way.”
Then, as we started to walk out the door and into the blinding sun and flippant breeze, my thought was, “Oh no.”
You see, I am not, shall we say, athletically inclined. At all. Any sport played with a ball or disc has my head spinning. I don’t understand them. There are all these rules you have to know, “boundaries,” and then they go and confuse me by splitting us into teams! Terrifying.
So, clutching my skirt, I walked out on the field. “I really don’t want to play,” I said. No one heard me, or if they did, they gave no indication of it. Drat.
So after blindly walking around the field for a few rounds, or whatever they are called, I went over to Emily, who happened to be doing the same as I.
“Let’s be lawn ornaments!” I said. She agreed.
And so we sat, pulling up grass, in the middle of the field. We were nearly trampled several times, but I liked to think I was still assisting my team in some way. I might trip the other team, or make them have to go around me! Genius.
Emily and I moved from being lawn gnomes to meditating frogs, and Mr. Burns told us to take our yoga outside the field. We didn’t.
Emily picked a piece of grass, held it between her thumbs, and blew—hard. And, her blowing created this ear-piercing screech so loud I could feel my ear drums shattering.
“Cool! I want to try!” Emily grinned, and picked me a piece of grass to use. I stuck it expertly between my thumbs, took a deep breath, and blew—hard. But alas, no screeching sound was heard, and I ended up sounding like a baby spitting out a mouthful of pureed carrots. Yuck.
I decided to try again, and Emily helped me to precisely place the grass between my thumbs. I was sure to get it this time! I was drawing my breath in and placing my lips in blowing position, when—
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhh!” came the blood-curdling shriek from Emily. I fell over in fright.
“Alyssa!” Emily yelled. Alyssa! She had snuck up on us and poked Emily in the sides! Gasp. I was about to get the whistle blowing thing, too!
I tried again. And failed. Again. I tried a few more times, and failed a few more times. Sigh. One more time? Ok, here it goes…
“SKWEEEE-blllleeeee-SKEEEE-bleeehhhhh-WEEEEEE” I did it! “Emily, I got it!” I would do it again, proud of my new ability. Deep breath, and blow! “BLeyyyeeeeee.” Darn. Fail.
Needless to say, I gave up on the grass whistling. Moving on.
“Hey! You want to try the ‘field sobriety tests’ my drivers’ ed teacher showed us that let you know if a person is drunk?” she said.
Sure. I’m sober, I could do this, right?
First one.
“Standing on one foot, looking at the one in the air, count to 30 in real seconds.”
“1…2…3…4…” Hey, I wasn’t failing! Yeah! “12…13…14…” Falling… falling… foot down to save myself! Fail.
“You’re drunk,” Emily told me.
“No I’m not! I’m just… I have an inner ear problem, ok?” We did another three, and I passed those. Phew.
“Ok, now count backwards from 100 staring with odd numbers.”
I got this. “99…97…95…91…89…”
“You skipped 93. You’re drunk!” she teased. “What have you been drinking, mouthwash?”
“I’m not drinking mouthwash!” I said. I was about to elaborate, when a Frisbee flew right by our heads, and a guy was diving right by to catch it! We almost died. And so, after a good five seconds of screaming, we looked up. Everyone was staring at us.
“Moving along,” Emily said coolly. We floated off the field, both acting like the White Queen from Alice in Wonderland. Yeah, I know we’re cool.