I remember when I decided to play ball. I actually started out as a cheerleader, for a Pop Warner team, the Hornets. Mom dressed me up in skirts and ribbons and handed me pompons. Henry played quaterback, and instead of cheering, I was searching for crickets behind some trees, because good bait is always important. The ball went out of bounds-I ran to grab it, and hurled it, and the ball flew farther than any of Henry's passes. He caught the ball, ran back to me, and said, "Darn, you're good", with this big smile on his face, his two front teeth missing. "Wanna com out for pizza and air hockey after the game? With me and the team?" That day, I traded my pompons in for cleats.
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"Holy crap, Woods," Carter says, looking me up and down. "You can't wear shit like that. It's, like, against the nature of the universe or something."
Chuckling, I walk up and shove him, and he laughs too. "Just kidding," he wispers. Pulling me up close, he continues, "Seriously though, you'll be the most gorgeous girl at the dance tonight."
See you later xx
El
Genre: een soort van hoe zou ik het zeggen, niet echt pop, ook geen rock of indie... Zeer moeilijk dus om er een genre op te plakken.
