Coloriage : comparateur – au meilleur prix – lequel choisir Dan Davin 2020: Joint senior winner Levi Mennell

There were two joint winners in the senior section of the Dan Davin 2020 Literary Foundation Awards on September 11.

Levi Mennell, of Aparima College, with his entry Stand Up for Yourself, and Coby Musgrave, of Aparima College, with his entry Going for a Hoon (poem), were first equal.

Mennell’s story is published below.

Stand up for yourself

The hallways of Pinewood High School echoed as Jack, Roger and I ran down, past the navy-blue and gold lockers that lined the walls and the trophy cabinets and the banners boasting the Pinewood Tigers logo, the school’s football team.

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As we ran past the fearsome blue and gold tigers displayed on the posters, I couldn’t help but feel that their eyes were following us, like they were some sort of guardian that sensed that we didn’t belong here. We didn’t belong here.

These were the hallways of our despised rivals and the fact that we were here in the middle of the night, alone, added to the eeriness.

Suddenly Jack came to a stop just outside of a door that was left slightly ajar.

He turned to look towards Roger and I, his long, sandy-blond hair tumbling over his blue eyes so that he constantly had to bat his fringe away.

His mouth was in a permanent smirk. The kind of smirk that lets people know he thinks he’s better than them. The kind of smirk that makes you want to hit him squarely on the nose.

You would never action this desire though, or else you would be kicked off the team without a second thought. He is the Northview High School’s starting quarterback after all, and the coach’s son to boot.

Where Jack is handsome, in a douchy kind of way, Roger is the complete opposite. His face is square and mashed and whenever he smiles it reveals an alarming amount of empty space where his teeth should be, the result of years of playing linebacker, making tackles and taking hits. The darkness of the school’s unlit corridors didn’t do him any favours.

“The video room is in here,” Jack gestures to the slightly opened door.

He slowly crept forward and entered the dark room. Roger followed close behind him, as he always did, attempting to stifle his laugh, which came out as grunts and grumbles.

“I can’t believe we’re here, man!” he exclaimed, laughing like an orc.

“Could you be any louder?” The dramatic whisper came from me, accompanied by frantic hand signals.

“What was that, pipsqueak?” Roger turned to me, looking up at me through his slit, shrewd eyes.

“Shut up, Roger.” Jack’s voice came from inside the room, and after a final sneer in my direction, Roger turned and entered the room. No matter how much Roger may hate me, he would never go against Jack’s command.

The room was built like a theatre, although much smaller, with tiered seats facing down to a screen with a desk and podium in front of it.

This was it. This was the place where the Pinewood Tigers went over the tapes of countless games, running plays and discussing what could be done better. It felt like a sacred place that we had no right to, but here we were anyway.

This felt wrong. No, this was wrong. What could I do though? Jack was already halfway through taking photos of the plays that were going to be run by the Tigers against us in the final next week and even if I tried to stop him, he had his boneheaded crony to back him up. As I stood guard at the door, the noises of the fabricated shutter clicks of Jack’s phone rang out. My fears hit overdrive and the night became a blur. It felt like a dream.

* * *

Training the next morning was tough. At least it looked tough. I wouldn’t know because as the majority of the team did shuttles along the training field, Jack, Roger and I stood and watched with the coach.

Coach Valley was a tall, well-built man, obviously a football player in his past life.

He had gaunt, horror-film features that seemed like they could morph into millions of different emotions but were mostly stuck on indifference. He was a hard man, tough on everyone on the team, except for Jack, his pride and joy, the living embodiment of himself.

Jimmy Gonzalez was running by doing shuttles when he stopped in front of Coach, huffing and puffing.

Jimmy Gonzalez, or Jimmy G as we called him, was not afraid of anything, despite being 5”7’ and 180 pounds.

Mostly he warmed the bench. Whenever he did see game time, he would try to run through any player, irrespective of whether the guy was a big brute of a man with muscles on muscles.

“How come Roger and Ralph get to sit out?” Jimmy G questioned, in between exasperated breaths.

Jimmy G knew better than to question Jack’s reason for sitting out as that would have been a death wish.

However, there was something in the silence left hanging in the air after his question that told me that

Coach Valley did not appreciate Jimmy questioning his decisions.

“Roger and Ralph get to sit out because I said they could sit out,” Coach’s voice was barely raised yet there was a hint of malice in it.

“That’s not fair, we’re out here busting our asses off doing these shuttles, and these three get to sit back and watch.”

Jimmy G had guts, I’ll give him that. And he was right, too. It wasn’t fair that I was sitting back watching the whole team while they struggled.

However, from the daggers that Coach Valley was pointing at him, voicing my agreement out loud would be tantamount to voluntarily jumping on a sinking ship.

The atmosphere was deafeningly quiet, broken by the whistles and yells of the assistant coaches in the background, egging the other boys on.

As Coach Valley’s cold, calculating eyes stared, seemingly, through Jimmy G, the few seconds seemed to suspend time.

And then it was broken up by the high squeal of Coach Valley’s whistle. As the boys flocked to the source of the whistle like moths to a flame, Jimmy G grew noticeably more uncomfortable.

“Everyone take a knee,” Coach Valley commanded. “Gonzalez here is of the mind that it is unfair that Jack, Roger and Ralph get to sit out while the rest of the team does the drill. Isn’t that right, Gonzalez?”

Jimmy G nodded, visibly shaken up.

“Well don’t be shy, Gonzalez, speak up.” The gauntlet had been laid.

“Yea, that’s right,” Jimmy G stuttered.

“I mean it’s a fair statement, right?” Coach replied, condescendingly. “Wouldn’t everyone agree?”

The rest of the team all murmured agreement, not sure where Coach was going with this.

“However, there is a completely fair reason why these three boys were allowed to sit out of the drill.”

Coach let the statement hang in the air. “Jack, care to explain to the rest of the team just why you are allowed to sit out today.”

Jack stands up like a soldier responding to a command by his general, a smirk still firmly planted on his face.

“Last night, me, Roger and Ralph snuck into Pinewood High School and stole the plays that Pinewood is going to run against us in the final at the weekend.”

He seemed proud of it. It made me sick. The team began murmuring, a mix of shock and excitement about the new information.

“That is right, my boy.” When Coach Valley began to talk, the whole team fell silent once more. He turned back to the other boys.

“And in my team, when you do something for me, you get rewarded. So, Gonzalez, don’t you ever think of calling me out on any of my decisions before you know the whole story. Is that clear?”

Jimmy G was looking down at his feet now. “Yes, sir.”

“Does anyone else have anything to say?” Coach Valley asked, daring dissension.

Everyone remained silent.

“Good. Now that we have cleared that up, let’s get into training. Everyone over to the ten yard line, pronto.”

As the boys got up off their knees and began running over to the 10 line, Coach Valley’s cold voice cut through the air once more.

“No, not you, Gonzalez. I don’t think you have quite learnt your lesson. As punishment you will run the whole team’s shuttles. I was never the best at math, but that’s 10 shuttles each and 40 in the team, so you better get a move on if you want to have 400 shuttles done before school starts in a couple of hours.”

Jimmy G’s face was a contortion of shock and it was clear that he was trying his hardest to not cry.

Seeing this normally confident, sometimes even cocky kid, be driven to the verge of tears made me angry.

Not just at Coach Valley but at myself. I agreed to help break into Pinewood High to steal the plays. I didn’t stand up to Jack and Roger even though I knew it was wrong. I didn’t stand up to Coach Valley as he publicly humiliated Jimmy G. I used to inwardly despise Jack, Roger and others on the team as ass-kissers, being Coach Valley’s parrots, keeping on his good side. It was at this moment I realised that I was just as bad. And then I did something I never thought I would ever do.

I began running.

I joined Jimmy G, as he began running his first shuttle. The whole team stared at me and then back at Coach Valley, seeing how he was reacting. I didn’t care what he thought. I continued running.

“Ralph, you get your ass back here this instant, or you’re off the squad,” Coach Valley was yelling after me.

The rain began falling. It fell hard and fast, and somehow this pushed me further. It pushed Jimmy G further as well, who, despite his smaller frame, did not have the same natural speed as me.

This did not matter, as at this moment, he was in lockstep with me. He began laughing and hollering into the sky, letting the straight-falling raindrops plummet directly onto his face.

The sky was turning an orange-pink as the morning sun rose. The rain only continued to fall harder and harder. Jimmy G and I reached the touchdown line on the far end of the field when we turned back.

The field was slick with mud and as we got closer to the side of the field where the rest of the team was still standing in awe, I could hear Coach Valley’s yells become louder and louder.

As Coach Valley became visible through the rain, I began running on an angle directly towards the team. I stopped in front of them and got my breath back.

“Ralph, what the hell do you think you are doing!” Coach Valley yelled over the deafening noise of the rain.

“I’m doing the right thing, Coach.” My voice was deliberately calm and even, in contrast to his.

“This is not the right thing. You will stop running this instant. Gonzalez will do 500 shuttle runs on his own. That is a direct order.”

I dredged up courage. “I can’t do that, Coach. He’s my teammate. We have to stick together.”

He looked over me. “Where was that mentality five minutes ago when you stood watching as your team did the shuttles?”

“I’ve made some mistakes this past week, Coach. Including helping steal those plays from Pinewood High.” The rain was coming down hard on my head and my hair was flopping over my face. “I’m telling Pinewood High what happened.”

“Like hell you are. Knowing those plays will win us the game.” His face was colouring up.

I squared onto him. “You’re wrong. Knowing those plays means we can never truly win the game. It will tarnish any success we might have. We can’t go through with this.”

Through the rain, I could see Jack become increasingly more agitated the more I say.

“If you’re such a saint, then why the hell did you help steal the plays in the first place.” Jack called out.

“You know the reason. Your father strikes fear into every single person in this team. Anyone would take an opportunity to get on his good side. But now I’m sick of it.”

Coach Valley opened his throat yelled out above the rain, “I brought this team all the way to the finals, and you want to throw it away all because you all of a sudden had an ‘awakening’.”

My voice matched his. “We don’t deserve to be in the finals.”

“Like hell we don’t. I earned every single one of those wins that got us here.” He was stamping like a dictator.

An ocean of calm flooded my mind. My answer was clear. “You didn’t earn anything. You stole wins from hard working teams by cheating.”

He started to back down. “I did what I had to do.”

“It’s not right. It’s not the game.” I got my breath back. I was tired from trying to yell over the noise of the rain. “And I know other boys in the team think the same.”

The boys had been standing there throughout the whole exchange, eyes darting back and forth from person to person like they were watching a tennis match. Jimmy G could be heard in the background hooting and hollering and laughing.

The moments passed by inexorably. I turn to the team, “I won’t tell Pinewood High what happened. You can join Coach Valley and continue to train with him, learning the plays that have been stolen, and win the final game in the weekend and feel that initial glory right after that final whistle rings. Or you can come with me and run with Jimmy G, as a team.” I pause. “Just know, if you take the first option, that glory won’t last long. It will fast turn into guilt.”

And with that, I ran off, joining Jimmy G. Running through the pouring rain, slick mud underfoot, elation lending strength to my muscles. Coach Valley was probably yelling at me to get back but I blocked him out. Nothing existed except for the rain, the mud and my heart beating against the inside of my chest.

The team all stood for a while, still trying to comprehend what had just happened. At first, it seemed like no one was going to move.

However, one by one they slowly filtered in, joining Jimmy G and I as we completed shuttle after shuttle.

I couldn’t help but think as I ran in the rain with my team, with the exception of Jack and Roger who stuck close beside Coach Valley as he snapped a whiteboard in half, that I had, for the first time in a long time, done something right.