Angela, Part 2

~ Part Two ~ Angela




I once asked my mother why she named me Angela, and do you know what she told me? She said that when I was born, I looked so much like an angel. Would you believe that? Well, I ain't no angel now. Not that I mind the name because most people call me Angie, anyway, which I like. But I dont like it when they call me Ang, which they do sometimes, Ain't that stupid being called Ang. It sounds so....you know sort of cheap like.


I sure hated it when I lost that ball game the other day. It was all my fault though. I shouldn't of gotten mad at the umpire, the batter and that stupid catcher. Gosh, there I go again, calling someone stupid when they're really not. I'm always saying things that I don't mean. I just can't help myself sometimes. It sort of comes out. I'm not at all like they think I am. It's just that nobody understands me. That is nobody but my dad. Gee, my dad's a great guy. He's the manager of our baseball team and everybody likes him. He's the only one I can bring my problems to, and who really understands me. I just love him when he puts his arms around me and tries to console me when I'm feeling blue. He was a pilot during the war, and now owns his own airplane. Well, it's my plane too, isn't it? I'm his daughter. I love it when he takes me flying. He's giving me flying lessons too. I feel so good up there looking down at the country side below. It looks so funny as if I was in a different world, and I don't have a worry or care at all. I wonder how it would be if I was up there flying the plane all alone. Wow! what a thought. I just can't wait till I'm sixteen because that's when my dad says that I can solo, you know, fly the airplane all alone. I wish that I didn't have to wait so long, because I think that I can fly the plane all by myself now.


I know that some of the girls think that I am sort of strange because I don’t hang around with them. Well, I don’t like to go to those silly pajama parties, and play those stupid games that they do. I guess they think that I am a tomboy, because I hang around more with the guys. Well, maybe I am a tomboy, but the only reason I hang around with the guys is because they’re into sports like I am. After all, I was the only girl good enough to make the baseball team. But I do like one boy, in particular. I guess I do have a crush on that Charlie Gazey, who plays center field for our team. Maybe it’s because, he’s the only one on the team that’s taller than me. But the only time he thinks I’m alive is when I’m pitching and he’s yelling from the outfield, all right Angie, let’s get the next one over, or easy out Angie. You know, things like that.


Aw heck, I’m only twelve years old and I’ve got plenty of time for boys. I’ve got too much on my mind to worry about them. My mom is bearing down on me to study more because my grades aren’t too good and my coach at school wants me to go in for gymnastics and play basketball. I don’t know how I’m going to do all this and go flying with dad. There’s just isn’t enough time in the day. Oh gosh, I just can’t wait till I grow up when I won’t have all these problems.

Boy, I can’t wait till I get home from school and turn on my stereo and unwind all alone in my room and forget the cares of the day. My mom used to complain when I’d turn the darn thing up loud, so I got myself a pair of headphones. Now I don’t have to worry about her bugging me all the time to turn the sound down. Boy, this is great. What else is there but playing baseball, going flying with my dad, and listening to Michael Jackson.