Soccer Practice
It had been a long, hard day of practice. She was hot and sweaty. At the time, Lisa could've thought of about a million things she would rather have been doing than playing soccer. All the other girls had all left, gone to Pizza Hut or some other popular place. They had invited Lisa, but she had declined because, well, that's just the kind of person she is. It was nice of them to invite her, but they weren't able to completely hide the relief of knowing she wouldn't be coming with them. Lisa couldn't blame them. She was odd. Maybe she should have gone with them. She really didn't have any friends, and that's why her parents made her join the soccer team in the first place. But looking back on the day's events she had no regrets. Now she was alone, sitting on top of the grassy hill. Alone. Happy. The wind was starting to pick up. Lisa loved wind. As it caressed her sweaty body it sent the kind of chills up her spine that only wind and sweat could. She sighed, a wonderful sigh of contentment, and threw herself onto her back. The grass itched her arms and legs, where there was no uniform. And then the lights came on. Those wonderful orange lights that they used for the soccer games. They basked the entire area in orange, giving everything a bizarre unnatural look. It was such a wonderful feeling. She wanted to lie on the top of the hill, being cooled by the wind, swimming in the glow of the lights. The breeze just barily audible, the sounds of cars off in the distance, the growing number of bugs near the lights, the dusky sky, the stars barely visible past the lights. It was bliss. It was absolute bliss. It was as if Lisa's entire life was leading up to this one moment. She would never, could never be happier. Then she heard a car. Very near this time. It honked once, before Lisa even had time to react. She opened eyes she didn't even realize were closed, hefted herself up and trudged down the hill. She opened the door, took a seat.
"Hey, dad." she tried to add some cheer to her voice, but it was a useless gesture. He grumbled something in vague acknowledgement and pulled away. He listened intently to the sounds of the baseball game on the radio. A nasaly voiced announcer was narrarating the game. It's a pop-fly into left field! They've got this game in the bag and- oh no! He dropped it! He dropped the ball! I can't believe he -
"Damn it! What the hell!?" Lisa's father slammed his hand across the dashboard. Lisa sank back in her chair a bit and sighed, a sigh of sadness this time.