I hope you smile.
I crept around the corner, my breath held in anticipation. My objective was in plain sight but closely guarded by the enemy. Getting close meant imprisonment. My stomach was churning and my thoughts were racing. Would I, could I sacrifice myself for the win? Would my sacrifice even affect the outcome? Then, I rushed forward, my decision made: We must win at all costs.
It’s embarrassing really. I mean first of all, I think there is a time when a person has outgrown Capture the Flag. Probably age 10 for girls, older for boys. But here I am, 16 years old, playing CtF, and really into it.
Before you write me off, I wasn’t the only person who was a little too emotionally attached to the outcome. My best friend, www.bubblygirl97.wordpress.com, was also all about winning. Okay, back to the story.
Bubblygirl and I stood on the edge of our side trying to look as menacing as possible. Our other friend, T, guarded the only possible route to the flag. She watched us uncertainly. I think she was confused as to why we were glaring at her. But Bubblygirl and I understood what was at stake.
“We have to get that flag!” I whispered to Bubblygirl. She nodded her concurrence. Then she voiced my unspoken concern.
“T is in the way.”
“I know,” I answered in my best reassuring older sister voice, “but I think I’ve got a plan.”
Bubblygirl looked up at me her eyes filling with hesitant hope. Okay, she didn’t really look up at me, we’re about the same height.
“One of us will tackle T and cover her mouth so that she cant call for help, then the other one can climb over the fence, run through the garden, and grab the flag.” Bubblygirl’s hesitant hopefulness disappeared.
“Um, that’s kinda a small fence to climb.” It was.
The other issue is that I am not a physically aggressive person. Also, T is a good friend of ours (and practically a black belt in MMA) and for some reason tackling her did not seem like the best way to make a good friendship even better. But then I came up with an even better idea.
“Bubblygirl, I just realized something!”
Bubblygirl looked at me with less hope than before. Apparently she hadn’t really liked the climbing fences/tackling black belts idea.
“There is another way to get through!”
“Yea!” I pointed out a small hole in the bushes half covered by chicken fencing, “I’m sure you could fit through. I could go through but I don’t wanna rip my shirt.”
In my defense, it was a new shirt and I’ve had bad clothes-ripping-in-bushes experiences.
“It’s okay,” Bubblygirl said sacrificially, “I don’t care about my shirt.”
Sometimes I wonder exactly how mature Bubblygirl and I really are.
to be continued…
Actually it probably won’t be. But (spoiler-alert) we did win the game.