Under Pressure

The first time they met in the corridor, after literature class, their eyes met and she seemed to be the color of her friend's hair. Ryan smiled and she dropped her eyes and quickened her pace. On another occasion, he was running around the football field with the guys on the team. Looking at the bleachers, he saw that she was sitting, writing something in what appeared to be a notebook. He couldn't take his eyes off her. As he ran, he saw Mandy looking away, as if thinking about something. She brought the pencil to her lips, biting the tip. A few seconds later, she wrote again. He was already on the ninth lap when she realized he was there. Their eyes met. He smiled and blinked as he passed. Mandy looked back over her shoulder, as if confirming that he was really blinking and smiling to her.

By just remembering the reaction, a silly smile appeared on his face. He thought she was so cute that he couldn't help but be more and more interested in her.

And so, the week went by. Ryan stole glances from Mandy on campus lawns, winked as he passed her in the halls and smiled every time he met her unexpectedly on the way.

At night, before going to sleep, her eyes popped into his mind and he wondered what was so special that made him daydream, wanting to touch her soft hair, steal kisses from her full lips and feel her body against his. At times, the memory of their first meeting made him remember the way she treated him, wondering why he was wasting time, wanting a girl who was obviously not interested in him. But it was enough to remember the feeling of having her in his arms, to make caution flow out the window, making him anxious for more.

Every Friday, Ryan, like many Brown students, volunteered. Teachers used to recruit students to provide social service in the activities in which they stood out or had an affinity, as a way of helping the community. He was a coach on the children's basketball team and had worked with boys aged 7 to 10 years for almost a year. In the beginning, it had been a challenge for the coach, who said that as the team captain, he needed to develop essential leadership skills, team coordination and set an example. And, nothing better than teaching a kids full of energy to learn this. But the class was so much fun that, for Ryan, it was no longer an obligation and became a great pleasure.

Providence was a city full of parks. One of the most famous, Prospect Park, was close to the university. The place, where the statue of the city's founder, theologian Roger Williams, was located, had a privileged view of the city. People of all ages exercised in the region, practicing basketball, running, cycling, among other sports, for being an open place and full of fresh air, with its big trees. Many physical education teachers from public schools in the region took their students to train in the park, as a way to encourage them to practice sports and encourage healthy living.

Since moving from Gloucester to Providence, Ryan has lived on the outskirts of Brown. The park was just a few minutes from his apartment and he usually took that way on foot. On the way to the court, he passed by some acquaintances who waved to him, greeting him. The day is beautiful, Ryan thought to himself as he walked. The sun was shining brightly and the sky was blue, without a cloud to hinder the beautiful view. When he arrived on the court, he saw that the sixteen boys who trained with him were already stretching and preparing to play. When they saw Ryan, they greeted him and split into two teams. When everyone was ready, the boy whistled to signal the start of the game and threw the ball into the air.

The children competed for the ball, excited, while he was shouting directions to each player.

"Fred, look at the spin!" - he warned one of the students. - "Run, Larry, run!"

A few minutes after the start of the game, Ryan heard a song in the distance. It was Tchaikovsky's Waltz of Flowers, he identified. His mother loved the Nutcracker ballet and had heard this song several times in their home. He turned to see where the sound was coming from and was surprised by the sight.

Fourteen girls stood in a line, in a semicircle, on their toes. In the rhythm of the music, they revolved around themselves and little by little the circle opened up. Then, Mandy came along. The boy's eyes traveled slowly over her body, admiring her perfect shape covered by a light pink leotard, which kept her firm arms out. A small black skirt, tied to the right side, wrapped around her body. Her shapely legs were covered in a pantyhose in the same shade of pink as the leotard, and she wore a pair of red flats, whose satin straps wrapped around her ankle. Her dark hair was tied up in a bun and she looked completely different from her basic day-to-day style.

Ryan continued to watch her movements with his jaw dropped. She moved her arms and legs, tiptoeing. The smaller girls split into two rows, all on tiptoes, spinning through the open space, while Mandy jumped in the center of them, making precise movements. The two rows of girls moved away from Mandy, who remained in the center, focused on her movements. He had no idea that she was so good, and his heart was racing and his breath was wheezing as he watched her dance.

Her movements continued. The two rows of girls circled her again and she leaned forward, disappearing into that sea of little pink tutus. Ryan couldn't look away. The girls finished the circle and Mandy appeared again, doing pirouettes. She turned toward Ryan and finally realized that he was there, looking at her. Her face turned red and she looked away quickly.

Suddenly, the boy heard screams from the boys, which diverted his attention from the dance and, when he turned around, saw a ball flying full force towards him. There was no time to deviate. The ball hit his head, knocking him to the ground.

Ouch. Damn.

The pain was so great that he felt like he was seeing stars.

The boys huddled around him, asking numerous questions, wanting to know if he was okay. He blinked a few times, focused his eyes and sat down, rubbing his head where the ball hit him. Unable to contain himself, he looked again in the direction in which Mandy was dancing. She was standing, as were the little girls, all looking in his direction, frightened. He smiled at her, trying to show that he was fine and saw the relief in her eyes. But, unintentionally, he hit the lump that was forming on his head with his hand, which caused a grimace of pain. When he looked at her again, she was laughing as she tried to hide her good humor from her confusion.

"Are you OK?" - She asked, making the move with her lips, so that he could understand what she was saying from afar.

"Yes" - he replied, smiled back and stood up. Apart from the monstrous headache he was feeling and the hurt pride, yes, he was fine.

"Boys, rest assured" - he said, addressing the class. - "I am fine."

"I'm sorry, Ry. I miscalculated the direction and strength of the ball" - one of the boys said, looking ashamed and guilty.

"Don't worry, Leo, these things happen." - The little boy smiled at him, who reciprocated despite the pain he was feeling. - "Shall we continue, guys?"

The boys ran back to the court, followed by Ryan, who took a seat on a bench near the field. A few moments later, he looked again in the direction in which Mandy was dancing, but there was no one else there.

He sighed, thinking he would meet her the next day at the library. He just hoped that by then the headache would have eased.

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