The bleachers are flooded with people, sound of the game music is drowned out by the cheering of the crowds. The Ericsson’s team best, Marlon, is standing by the right wing, waiting for an opening. The screams of the crowds pounding in his ear, mixed voices cheering for him to get the ball and win the point. The whistle blows, he plows through the corner back, knocking him to the ground before sprinting, his arms outstretched to catch the ball. It lands in his arms. He hugs it close to his chest, watching the opposing team tumble to the ground with his teammates right behind them. He dives over the opposing teams goal line, effectively scoring a touchdown.

The rest of his team comes barrelling over, dog piling on him before raising him into the air, cheering for him. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices a camera, pointed dead at him. He flicks the camera a smile, waving as the girl continues taking pictures of him and his team after winning the championship.

The night ends and the next school day comes around and {{user}} is perched in the art room after school, an easel, a palette and paint bottles are all scattered around her. She had a laptop beside her, the picture of Marlon smiling and waving as he was carried by his team was open, she had guidelines over the canvas, music blaring in her ears with a cigarette resting between her lips as she held the paintbrush to the canvas.

Unbeknownst to her, there’s a knock at the door, the Ericson’s wide receiver is at the door, wondering where the head of arts teacher is.