Creative Non-Fiction

August 2023 - Glowsticks

Loud pop music blares from the speaker system in the field. Only two heats have run so far and it’s almost time for mine. The girls in my heat and I mill about in the open field, stretching and jogging to stay warm.

“Who’s captain for our heat?” Kenzie asks. I pick at my fingernails as I stretch, trying to soothe my nerves. “Emma?” Kenzie holds out the ceremonial glowstick necklace. I take it, rolling the fluorescent green pendant between my fingers. 

“You sure?” I ask, meeting each of their eyes.

“You’re the fastest one, so it’s got to be you,” Kenzie says, kneeling down to tie her shoes. My teammates nod encouragingly at me. I pull the woven cord over my head, letting the glowing pendant rest in the center of my chest. My first high school race and crowned captain of the losers heat with a glowstick. It’s going to be a great season.

September 2023 - All Bets Are Off

The rain pours down in ruthless sheets, soaking our thin uniforms through. The spiraling path sucks at our shoes and seeps into our bones, a vengeful monster of mud. No runner on the starting line is confident. The goal is the finish line, not the time clock. All bets are off. 

September 2023 - Watermelon 

The thin plastic bag thumps against my knee with every stride, each bump carving a new dent into the whoopie pies inside. We race down the road, sneakers slapping the rough pavement almost in unison. “We are SO late!” I yell up to Lucy and Megan. “We’ve got to go faster if we’re going to make it to the team meeting in time!” 

Lucy laughs. “Can you imagine Hager’s face when we walk into the meeting late with shopping bags?” Megan lifts a sliced watermelon to her mouth and takes a bite, juice dripping down her chin. “Megan, that’s my watermelon!” Lucy yells, swatting at Megan’s arm. Megan stumbles into the grass, almost dropping the watermelon into the weeds. I start to speed up, blowing past Megan and Lucy.

“Race you!” I call over my shoulder. We sprint back to the school, trees and houses blurring around us. When we reach the parking lot we collapse on the grass, breathing hard and fast.

“And who said running wasn’t fun?” Lucy wheezes.

October 2023 - One of Them

I mindlessly scroll through my phone, trying to ignore the itchy grass poking into my bare legs. I hate these shorts. I think to myself. They’re too short. A streak of pink catches my eye and I look up. It’s Megan, hurtling towards the hill.

“OH MY GOD EMMA YOU DID IT!!!” Megan shrieks, voice reaching decibels beyond human hearing. She launches herself at me and knocks me backward onto the ground. “I heard about Gettysburg. Twenty-one flat?! That’s better than my best time!!” I laugh at her exuberance.

“Yeah, it was awesome! I still can’t believe it,” I gush. I can’t believe she’s this excited. She’s congratulating the freshman who beat her best time? I look at her face tentatively, searching for anger or bitterness. I find none. The rest of the girls look at us, smiling to themselves. They echo Megan’s praise and clap me on the shoulder and I can’t help but grin. I’m not just a puny freshman anymore, I’m one of them now.

September 2024 - Fine…?

I stumble across the finish line, collapsing onto the dead grass. The red numbers on the electric timing system scream angrily at me, You’re slow. You’re weak. You’re not enough. They’ve burned their judgment into my retinas, their shadows still dancing under my tightly closed eyelids. The sun beats down on my forehead and sweat drips slowly down my face. I used to be fast, I thought. What’s wrong with me?

September 2024 - I Think It’s Going to Rain Today

We walk together down the empty hallway, shoes squeaking quietly on the tiles. Outside the foggy windows, clouds droop sadly from the gray sky, tears brimming in their wispy eyes. I feel like a scarecrow, stuffed full of straw, my face permanently frozen into a smile that doesn’t quite feel real. I kick a plastic milk bottle down the hall, listening to the hollow clunk reverberate through the corridor. 

“Hey,” Sydney says, “You’ve got this! It’s just one race, you can bounce back. Just take a deep breath.” I nod, tension seeping from my muscles.

My eyes flit to the window again, taking in the ominous gray clouds. “I think it’s going to rain today.” 

October 2024 - Tandem

Emmie and I lock eyes as we run, the only communication between us a slight head nod. We accelerate together, long tanned legs moving in perfect unison. As we pass the runner in front of us we laugh, breathless wheezes like old balloons deflating. Before long we’re crossing the two-mile mark, slicing through the heavy mist with powerful strides. She and I run like nobody’s watching, leaving girl after girl behind us to look at the backs of our shoes.

October 2024 - Voices and Voice

Sweat pours down my face, stinging my eyes and clouding my vision. Each of my desperate breaths burns through my chest like fire, the blaze spreading through my delicate lungs without mercy. The crowd roars around me, each voice a part of one symphony. I hear one voice rise above the rest, its familiar measured cadence soothing my aching body.

“Come on Emma! Run free and finish strong!” my dad cheers. I smile in spite of myself. Every hot summer day training with him floods my mind, the memory of each exhausting run a new reason to finish this one. All of my training has led here. To this moment. It’s time to go.

The trees sped by me like smudges of green paint on a bright blue canvas as I pedaled faster and faster. My legs burned with the effort, but I barely felt it, infatuated by the utter perfection of the summer afternoon.

“C’mon Abby, catch me!” I called to my sister over my shoulder. I pedaled harder as she crept up behind me, the crushed stone rattling my bike tires as the end of the path came into view. A soft breeze whipped through my hair and the golden sunlight kissed the muddy river, clothing it in a heavenly glow. Nothing could spoil this day. We raced over the bridge, dodging the crowds of people that flocked to the city.

“Look! They have food trucks,” exclaimed my sister, pointing at Main Street. Glancing at one another, my parents shared a look. The kind of look that holds so much tenderness and understanding that they could communicate without words.

“We can grab some dinner there before the fireworks,” Dad conceded, smiling. We all skidded to a stop at the trunk of our navy blue Honda, strapped our bikes up, and grabbed our blankets and chairs. 

It was the fourth of July, and the city of Harrisburg was bursting with people. Food trucks lined the street and people sat along the river, laughing and eating. A spirit of unity was in the air that could only be born of patriotism and food. We had biked along the Green Belt bike trail all afternoon and my stomach rumbled indignantly. Legs aching, I trudged back across the bridge to the sidewalk that wove along the river. We meandered through the crowds of people and found a spot to lay out our things.

“My legs hurt!” Abby whined, flopping down onto a chair. Her golden brown hair was frizzy and it framed her red face in tiny little wisps like she was a frazzled sun.

“You two can stay here. We’ll grab some food,” my dad said to Abby and my mom. When we finally returned to the blanket with our steaming takeout containers, the sun was low in the sky, casting a dusky haze over the city. We ate and laughed as the sky grew darker, fading into a polished obsidian. Looking at my watch, I rolled my eyes at my sister. It was nine-seventeen, past the time that the fireworks should have started. Abby groaned and flopped back onto the blanket. We waited with anticipation as the minutes ticked by. Nine-twenty. Nine-twenty six. 

I looked over to my mom, about to whine about the increasing lateness of the fireworks show when I heard a loud scream. I whipped my head over to the river and time slowed. The pounding of my terrified heart echoed in my ears and my hands shook violently. I took in the scene in horror. Bathed in the ominous red glow of the bridge lights was the massive crowd, surging towards the city in a blind panic. The shouting intensified and people began pouring down onto the sidewalk where we were sprawled on the ground. Nobody seemed to know where they were going, but they all knew where they needed to leave. The mass of bodies was like the raging sea in a storm, relentless and destructive. 

BOOM. A loud crack sounded in the night sky as the fireworks finally began. My heart began to race as I frantically scanned the sidewalk, looking for a way out.

I lept to my feet, ready to flee from whatever danger had caused such a stir. I had a pretty good guess. You didn’t have to be a genius to hear about the various shootings around the country. Students murdered in their own schools, parades ruined by snipers cloaked in darkness, and countless more that sent a spark of fear down my spine. Mind racing, I prepared to run, but Mom grabbed my arm. Her face was pale as if all of the joy she had felt earlier today had been siphoned out of her in a moment.

“No!” she urged me, yelling to be heard over the rumble of the crowd. “Stay with us, we can’t lose track of you.” Her eyes darted about like the eyes of a captive animal, itching to be freed from its cage. Everything was a blur. Tears slipped down my cheeks and silent sobs wracked my body. I felt my father’s strong arms envelop me.

My father, always the comforter, murmured, “We’re going to be okay.” My sister was in a panic, weeping and convulsing with what could only be described as pure, unadulterated, terror. I began to pray quietly, singing hymns of praise to calm myself down. Soon, the shrieks began to die down. Our death grip on one another relaxed as our bodies collapsed with relief.

Then, the second wave hit. The screams were louder this time. Closer. People were sliding down the hill, away from the street and toward the river. I huddled next to my family as the fireworks went off and people cried around us. Looking out at City Island in front of us and the avalanche of people behind us, I came to a heart-stopping revelation.

With an undefined threat in the street above and the mighty Susquehanna River between us and our car, we were completely trapped. My muscles tensed in trepidation as I waited for a bullet to find my back, my head, my neck. Or even worse, the bodies of my family. Seconds felt like hours. Minutes felt like days. The sounds of hysteria blended together as my dad raised his voice above the din.

“If we need to get away, jump into the river and swim. One of the boats will help you,” he instructed. If my level-headed father was formulating worst-case scenario plans, I knew the situation was more dire than I thought. Sirens echoed in the distance. Time stretched on as we sat. It could have been years of us waiting there, but I only felt the pulse of my fear radiating through my tired body. After what seemed like decades of sitting on the cold cement, a police officer on a small speedboat directed us to walk across the bridge. I stood shakily and collected our things. I clasped my mother’s hand on one side and my sister’s hand on the other. 

As we made our way to the car, my muscles relaxed. We clung to each other’s hands and I felt a strange sense of calm envelop me like a soft blanket. We were alive. We were alive and safe. I let out a breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding. I knew at that moment that everything would be okay, if only for right then.