It’s been 10 years since high school ended, but grudges never die. My doctor diagnosed me with brain cancer today and said I have exactly two weeks to live. A saying teens use these days is “YOLO”, meaning “you only live once”. I may be taking this expression too extreme, but this is my chance to take care of business.
I created a list of names when I arrived home. Remember what I said about grudges never die? Well, this list is filled with the names of everyone who made my four years of high school miserable.
I eliminated the people who died and the people who weren’t too important. The list came down to three people.
The top person on my list: my old high school field hockey coach. She ran the team into the ground, degraded our self-esteem, and played mind games with the girls… except for the ones who paid tuition. Unfortunately, I was poor and lived in town, so even though my skill level was better, tuition girls got the advantage.
It’s now five o’clock on a chilly October morning, my old coach waddled down her driveway to start her morning walk. “She must be sixty by now” I thought to myself, not backing out of my plan. I’m parked in a curve a mile from her house. As she passes my car I grab her sweatshirt sleeve and yank her into my Chevy Silverado. Before I know it, my old coach is duct taped and zip tied in the passenger seat. Reaching my house, I park the truck in my driveway escorting her to my lovely home. “Remember all those track workouts you made us run? Your turn.” I shoved her onto a treadmill, tying her hands to the safety bars. I rip the duct tape off her mouth so she can breathe and press buttons to set the fastest speed and most inclined pace. Tears roll down my coach’s cheek, I walk out the door.
Person number one, check.
The second woman:A freshman when I was a senior who stole my varsity spot because she was tuition. I spent senior year sitting the cold, hard bench. I clearly had more experience at this level and played for higher club teams outside of school than she did. I finally came to my senses and figured out she paid to play. “Well,” I thought to myself, “money can’t buy you everything…”
I rev up my old truck, tear down my long driveway heading to University of Delaware, my former teammate’s home. It’s her senior year for hockey and I want her to know just how ‘special’ she made me feel my senior year.
Pulling into campus, I get lucky. She’s walking down Benny Street, the smallest street on campus, and decide to park by the other end of the street. My truck’s grill is the height of her shoulders. I see her stepping out from between the buildings. She stops, looks both ways, then steps to cross the street. I floor the gas pedal. Thankfully, she did no damage to my beautiful Chevy. I drive out of town as quickly as possible, without looking suspicious. I glance in the rearview mirror and notice she’s still alive. Good, maybe she’ll understand how it feels to sit the bench for her senior year.
Person number two, check.
The third person on my list is a woman who I’ve battled my whole life. She made me think I would never succeed in the future and I would never be happy in life. She made me cry every night, making me believe I was a worthless.
Finally far enough out of campus, I head toward a small farm town called Marydel, just west of Dover.
This last person ruined so many opportunities that could’ve changed my life. Even if I had the chance, that wouldn’t have stopped me from developing brain cancer. I decide to turn the radio on to relax my mind, classic George Strait always does the trick.
After two hours of driving, I arrive in Marydel; population two hundred and thirteen.
The last woman who I need to take care of on the list is a woman who caused so much conflict in my life it drove me to insanity. I may be dying of brain cancer, but I will die by the pull of this trigger.