Bleh

so you know yesterday i posted about some sayins i needed to find for this montage thing i'm doing for english class? well, i finished it. and i think it's kinda funny. so maybe you will to. hope so.

Black pavement rushing by, flowing swiftly underneath her tires. Sighing, she puts on the turn signal. Another day of practice. Another two hours of running and tackling. Another day of rugby. She parks and sits, watching other girls drift onto the field. Does she really want to go? she wonders as the engine cools and the radio fades away.
Just do it.
She sighs and reaches into the back seat for her Adidas athletic bag. Searching through it she produces a pink nalgene. Unscrewing the lid, she takes a drink and sighs again.
Do the Dew.
She ought to go. But there’s snow on the ground. With a game in two days, the coach is sure to make them practice tackling. Tackling. In three inches of fresh cold powder. And it’s starting to snow again she realizes peering through the windshield.
Pain is weakness leaving the body.
She throws the nalgene back in the bag and opens the door. Climbing out she reaches into the back seat and halls out the overstuffed duffel. Jogging over to the group of teenagers she tries to brush the snow away before sitting down. Reaching into her bag she pulls out a pair of long socks and tugs them over an already present wool pair. Feet are the first thing to feel the cold. The red one is up and folded down around her knee. She yanks the blue sock up, wiggling her foot into position.
Cross over into the blue.
After putting on her cleats she stands, and brushes snow from her pants. Leaning over she finishes tying just in time to go for a lap around the field with the team. Getting back to the coach they circle up and stretch. She gasps for breath, the cold air stings her lungs.
No pain no gain.
A ball is thrown to her, she catches it with icy fingers and sets off at a run through the channel. She runs into a defender and drives against her. A support player yells for her to go down, instantly she falls to the ground and puts the ball out in front of her. The cold powder stings her face and creeps into her ears.
Ice, ice, baby.
She rolls over as soon as the ruck has been cleared and jumps to her feet. The last person into the next ruck throws her the ball on cue. She catches it on the run. Sprinting ahead of her support.
Leaps and bounds ahead of the crowd.
She reaches the end of the channel and turns around. Running back to the line at the other end of the field. Throwing the ball to the scrumhalf on the other side of the cones. A new drill begins. She takes the ball in, drives against the defender. A second comes in and hooks onto her. She pushes the ball back onto her hip. Drive. Forward. Forward. A rolling maul. The last person in their group breaks off and sprints to the end of the cones. Touching the ball down to the ground. A try. A score.
The few. The proud. The Harlequins.
Running back to the line again. Jogging in place as she joins the back of the line. Stamping her feet on the cold ground. Rubbing her hands together. Friction. Heat. Stay warm, stay warm. The line edges forward.
Hurry up and wait.
The sun hovers just above the horizon. Sinking steadily. Practice will be short tonight. The wind is catching up to them. The cold increasing constantly. The coming night steals her breath away. Her hands are red from the cold. Her teeth click together, clattering, singing out a strange tune in the cold. The coach notices their shivering forms and dismisses the team. She rushes home and crawls into a warm bed, skipping dinner and forgetting homework. She’s freezing, all she wants is to be warm and dream away the cold she has just escaped. Besides.
Everything will look better in the morning.