March 7th
I seriously don’t know why I even bother getting out of bed on Mondays.
School was... well, let’s just say, if there was an award for most embarrassing day, I’d be holding the trophy right now. Gold medal. First place. Yay me.
It started in homeroom. We were all hanging out before the bell, and I was sitting at my desk, doodling in the margins of my notebook. Then Jake—yeah, that Jake—walks by. He’s one of the tallest guys in class. Already six feet and still growing. I swear he doesn’t even notice me most of the time, which is fine because I’d probably say something dumb anyway.
But this time? He did notice me.
“Hey, Mollie,” he said, smiling down at me like I was a puppy or something. “Did you get a haircut or something? You look... different.”
Different? What’s that supposed to mean? I gave him this awkward laugh and mumbled something like, “Nope, just the same me.” Super smooth, I know.
But then—it happened.
He leaned down to grab his pencil off the floor, and when he stood up, he accidentally bumped into me... and knocked me right out of my chair.
I don’t even know how it happened. One second I’m sitting there, and the next I’m on the floor, flailing like a turtle on its back. Everyone stared. I wanted to melt into the linoleum. Jake looked horrified.
“Oh man, Mollie! I’m so sorry!” he said, grabbing my hand and basically yanking me back onto my feet like I weighed nothing. Which, honestly, I kind of do. I could feel my face turning into a tomato.
“It’s fine,” I muttered. “Gravity’s just extra mean today.”
He laughed, but not in a mean way. More like he thought I was funny. Which... I guess wasn’t the worst thing ever? Still, I was dying inside.
And it didn’t stop there.
In gym class, we were playing basketball. (Why do they even make us play basketball when half of us can’t reach the hoop?) I was doing okay, mostly staying out of the way, when Coach Thompson shouted, “Mollie! You’re open! Go for it!”
Yeah. Sure. Except when I tried to dribble down the court, the ball bounced right between my legs, and I totally ate it. Like, flat on my face.
I heard someone snicker. Probably Trina. She’s always making comments about how I’m “fun-sized.” Ha. Ha.
But you know what? I got back up. My knees stung, but I grabbed that dumb ball and made a run for it. No fancy moves, no dribbling. Just... pure stubbornness.
And guess what? I made the shot.
I MADE THE SHOT.
Everyone started cheering, even Coach. Hillary probably would’ve rolled her eyes and said it was a fluke, but she wasn’t there. It was just me. Tiny Mollie. And for about five seconds, I felt ten feet tall.
Okay, maybe just five feet tall. But still.
So yeah. Mondays are the worst, but sometimes, they surprise you. Like when you score your first basket after face-planting in front of the entire gym.
I’m still waiting on that growth spurt... but maybe I’ve got other things going for me in the meantime.
Small but mighty, right?
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