Runner Up: Colleen O'Brien
Villa Park, IL
Congratulations, Colleen!
Colleen's Bio:
To feed her body (and her dog), Colleen owns a marketing consulting business outside Chicago. To feed her soul, she writes. She's currently working on her first novel.
Pom-Poms and Promises
By Colleen O'Brien
The box felt empty. I shook it tentatively, only to be rewarded with
the sound of rustling leaves. Leaves? I shook it again. Yep, leaves.
I walked from the porch to the kitchen table, examining the small brown box on the way. No return address. I grabbed a pair of scissors from the drawer next to the fridge, and got to work opening the package. I sliced the taped seam across the top, and lifted the flaps.
Inside, nestled in the corner of the box, was a blue and white pom-pom. I recognized it instantly. I had shaken it at every home game at
Lakeside High. I thought I’d never see it again.
Ten years ago, on the night Zach Hamill and I were crowned Prom King and Queen, Zach pulled me away from the crowd and into the warm night air.
“I want to ask you something,” he began.
“Sure,” I said hesitantly.
“I’ve been thinking about this night since we met freshman year. I
knew there was no one I’d rather be with tonight. Will you go out with
me? Like, be my girlfriend?”
“Wow…um…Zach, that’s so sweet. I’m flattered. What about school? I
mean, we’re both leaving for college soon.” I replied.
“I don’t know what it is about you, Steph. I can’t stop thinking about
you. I think we’d be great together.” he said with conviction.
I was so confused. I wanted this so badly, but I knew we’d be
heartbroken come August, when we left for opposite coasts.
“Zach, I would really love to go out with you, but…”
“Wait,” he interrupted, “before you say anything else. Listen. I’ll
never play football again if you’ll go out with me.”
“What?!” I said, incredulously. “Football is your life. You can’t...”
“That’s how much this means to me. I don’t know how else to prove it
to you,” he replied earnestly. “I’m gonna give you one of my lucky
football cleats. So I can’t play.”
“But you have to play! You’re great at it!” I protested.
“I want to show you I want you more than anything. We’re both 18. Old enough to know. I know we’re going away. But I want to be with you.”
“It’s not fair to either of us to have a long-distance relationship.”
I’ll tell you what,” he leaned in, “you take my cleat with you, and
you can bring it back to me if you’re not married in ten years.”
“That’s crazy!” I laughed.
“But I want to make sure you remember me. I only want to be with you. I mean it.”
“Ok,” I said, still beaming. I thought I’d go along with the joke.
“Ok, then, I’ll give you my pom-pom, and if you’re not married in ten
years, you can find me and give it back. Then we’ll see what happens.”
Standing in my kitchen ten years later, I smiled and shook my head at
the memory.
Then I rushed upstairs to find that cleat.
***