I, Optimist

By Olesa Arellano

Right at the onset of July, I saw them.  Every day, they bask in the golden heat of the sun, sweating their way to and fro the wide of our high school quadrangle, instructed by their unbending female coach.

After every class, on cue by the ring of the school bell, they scurried off, finishing their seat works and clearing their armchairs of books. They would change to their gears and head on to the quad.

Everyone from my circle of friends was part of our batch’s elusive high school soccer-baseball team. I was not.

“Why do you hang out with those girls?” mother would say. “You look malnourished when you walk amongst them!”

It’s true that they were a bit larger than I was; or that I was practically a walking stick through high school. My mother did not want me around them but I never told them that. I was worried they’d take it as an insult and stop hanging out with me. Truth is I liked it that way. I felt safer when they were around me, with their undeniable size and all. But no matter how close people are to each other; one of them can’t help but to feel inferior.

Malaika was a fielder. She could catch and throw a ball 10, 15, even 20 yards without so much as a wince of effort. Standing about 10 inches taller than I, and weighing 10 pounds heavier, she was in demand for that kind of sport. I can’t even do 15 yards with my strong hand.

Joanna and Mica, well they were new. They joined the team only when we were high school freshmen. Since Mica had biceps and triceps of steel and Joanna can kick a helpless ball to the other side of the quadrangle, they both got accepted right away. On that same year, we were hailed champions in the sport.

And there was Ivy. Oh my sweet, darling Ivy. She was probably my strongest, sturdiest friend, physically. She could carry three normal-sized people at once with her well-built physique. That’s three times my weight. I can’t even do 2 full push-ups.

When at play, Ivy’s dark brows, tiger eyes, and bulldog-like game face get to work. Ivy was the fear of students from all batches in our college of girls. No other short-stop could do better than she.

At long last, tryouts were to be held for the soccer-baseball team. They probably lacked players. In the spite of all the inferiorities, I mustered all my courage to try out after waiting for four years. I have been longing for this opportunity since the fourth grade.

I told myself I could do it. I was positive.

For five afternoons, we bonded with the balls. We had to throw, catch and kick the soccer balls the best we can. We also ran from point A to point B as fast as we possibly can. At the end of the week would be the Judgment Day.

Friday was the last day to impress the coach. At the end of the training, we gathered around. No words were said, we were asked to close our eyes and bow down. Whoever was given a pat on the back got accepted to the team. The rest will open their eyes again, still in the hope of getting in.

I would have given or done anything for a pat.

When I opened my eyes, there were only two of us left. Almost immediately, tears gathered and flowed off my eyes and my mouth was uttering empty phrases my mind can’t seem to decipher. Malaika, Joanna, Mica, and Ivy all gathered and hugged me for comfort. I almost couldn’t hear myself blabbering about. I couldn’t believe it. I was rejected.

Rejected!

From then on, whenever I was about to do something that’s out of my comfort zone, I look back at that moment and think nothing else could ever cause me to break down like that again.

That was it; that was my ultimate drama moment out of rejection. Today, I am optimistic about taking calculated risks.

I auditioned for parts in musicals here and there. Sometimes, I got in and got rejected in others but that was okay. Whenever auditions were held for something, I went for it most of the time. This shamelessness earned me a couple of acting awards and a hosting stint for our college’s intramurals.

Summers were even busier for me. After putting on some weight for the whole school year, I joined soccer camps to muscle up, doing sit-ups and push-ups along the way. Gradually, the walking stick died. She paved way to a more fit and strong girl emanating positive energy.

I am the girl who got rejected from her high school soccer-baseball team. But, I have surpassed that stage. There’s more to this girl than the reject. I am and will always be the optimist; the hoper of far-flung hopes; the dreamer of improbable dreams.