Is It Me?

• Seb Waugh, Grade 9, International Football School
• Short Story
• 2016

Excellence Award in the 'Top Secret 2016' competition

Sick. The bile that stuck in the back of my throat was like a volcano just begging to erupt. Standing up there, in our immaculate line, shoulders just gently brushing past one another, all twenty three of us. We had all trained excessive hours that seemed to murder our bodies and somewhat indomitable spirits every time we were forced to do them. He studied us; his eyes spied over us; you could almost see his mind working furiously like a screaming steam train pounding abrasively into the tracks. My mouth was dry, my eyes were itchy and my mind was on the verge of insanity. I was dying to know the outcome, but at the same time I felt like I would crawl up into a ball and die if they didn't effectuate what my heart told me was destined to be. I could see his mouth twitching, waiting, thinking and then finally sound breached the quiver of mouth that sat on his face. Time seemed to slow as he said the first name.
Anticipating the sounds, I knew that it wasn't my name from the abnormalities of the name. It wasn't familiar, which meant it wasn't mine. He produced a handgun from his coat and ripped a hole in my chest. But as the pain seared through my body it was abruptly cut off by a name that was as clear and sharp as a cut diamond. It was another name; it was still not mine. Through the sorrow and rage that was flowing through my veins a vague, but distant confusion exploded in my brain. There can only be one person through. What is happening? More than one victor...
I could still be in with a chance. Another name not mine, another and another. The names kept being read out until there was only me and another guy left. I didn't quite know who he was but was familiar with his name and face. His name was called out. He cut me down, I crumpled on the inside. My life had ended. His mouth moved but I heard nothing. Out of nowhere, people started breaking form in the line and leaving the room. What was happening? He came over to me to shake my hand but I whipped my hand away before he could grip it.
“What’s wrong son, you won", he said.
"I... I lost", "I was the only one in the room who you didn't choose", I accused with a defeated tone. “I wasn't good enough".
“Ha ha", he bellowed, “Son, you were the one we chose!".
All those thoughts of hopelessness and dismay swirled around that were swirling around in my head were overrun by the overwhelming realisation that my name wasn't called out because I was the one who won. I made it. I was going to Japan to represent my country for karate. Euphoria and adrenaline filled my veins like falling to sleep, slowly and then all at once. But then the sharp, stabbing thought of leaving the comfort of home for a foreign country out of arms reach of my family chilled my bones right down to the core.