Personal Narrative: African American Football

“Are you alright, Aarushi?” My mom questioned, she was mortified when she saw me limping across the pale floor, crying to get to her. She briskly ran towards me, along with my dad trying to help me get to the nearest bench. I was crying, my right foot felt like hot, gushing lava, burning from the inside out, constructing everything to feel like a third degree burn. Suddenly, everything in the world turned black. It was five fifty in the evening, cautiously waiting for it to turn six, afterwards, I could start getting ready to go to my sister soccer party at Sky High! “Click”, dinged the clock, the minute hand reached towards six while the hour hand struck twelve. After ten minutes of waiting, which seemed for an hour, I jumped out of my seat …show more content…
Our sister’s were also standing in line. We stood in a staggered position because we all wanted to end up on the same side. Turns out, our plan worked, we did end up onto the same team! “Left, Right, Left, Right”, the instructor kept repeating, we kept ending up the right side, and rarely the left out of all the games we played. “Ding Ding”, the whistle blew. The game started. I rushed up to get a big, purple softball, just for protection if a ball comes towards me, but they didn’t cause I jumped on the edge behind random people. I played for a few more games but then got bored. I purposely got hit with a softball to get some water and then go back to the foam pit because it was fun, Rhea followed because we did everything …show more content…
As I jumped from the first trampoline to the second trampoline, my foot got caught by something. I immediately figured it was the yellow divider. I broke down sobbing because of the pain. Rhea helped me get up and go down the stairs, she was a really good friend. I tried to go down the stairs without using my right foot.
“Aarushi, are you ok!” Rhea exclaimed