Nonfiction
Title: Red Bracelet
Word Count: 911
The cold Oregon breeze hit my face as I got out of the backseat of Mom’s green Subaru, closing the door carefully behind me. I waved her as she pulled out of the parking lot to stop by the grocery store before my game. I fiddled with a red bracelet on my wrist as I made my way across the field, a habit I developed when I was nervous. The other team looked intimidating during warm-ups, but that didn’t matter. All I had to do was focus on myself and the game since the season was coming towards an end.
A blow of the referee’s whistle initiated the start of the game. An evenly matched game got underway since neither team was dominating the other. Coaches and parents yelled at their players from the sideline, voices cutting through the breeze trying to be heard. All was going smoothly when the ball went out of bounds, the other team had the throw-in. They were about to bring it back into play when the referee stopped them and started to make his way towards me.
“No jewelry,” he told me sternly. I had to look up because I was only 12 years old and barely five feet tall. It took a while, but eventually, it dawned on me that he was referring to my bracelet. Anxiety built up and I was frozen, unable to speak.
Olivia, my teammate who was a few years older than me, noticed how I felt and pulled me to the side. She turned to face me directly and asked, “You okay?” I shook my head, still overwhelmed by the situation. She knew what the bracelet meant to me, and we both knew what I would have to do if I wanted to continue playing. By now our coach had made her way onto the field to see what was going on since one of her players was clearly holding things up.
“She can’t play with jewelry on.” The referee repeated, but in a more stern tone of voice.
“But sir, what if it’s for…” She hesitated, not knowing how to continue. “… Religion?”
The referee shook his head in disapproval and turned back towards the game, hinting to my coach to pull me out. I barely made it to the bench since my legs wanted to collapse both from exhaustion but also from being nervous. Another whistle initiated the game once again. My team had to go on with one less player, which made the game even more difficult.
“Clare,” my coach said, pulling my attention away from the game. “Are you able to take the bracelet off or is it permanent?”
“It’s permanent” I replied quietly, due to embarrassment. All contact sports have a no jewelry rule for safety reasons, which we all knew very well. However, the single chain of crocheted red yarn around my wrist made by Mom was in reality, harmless. In China, it’s said that if a girl wears a red bracelet during her 12th year of life, it brings her good luck. I had worn mine for a year and a half already, so technically I didn’t have to keep it on any longer. I told this to my coach in a more simplified way, for the sake of time and the game.
“Well, the team could use you if you’re up for it. There are scissors in the medical bag if you do decide to go back in.” With that, she went back to coaching.
I sat there for what felt like forever, pondering over my two options. In the end, the guilt of sitting out and not needing to keep the bracelet on got to me. So, I cut it off. At first, it was alright, but then I realized how weird it felt to not be wearing it. Tears welled in my eyes and eventually fell. I had hoped that they would mix with the rain and no one would notice, but that wasn’t the case. My teammates had discreetly checked up on me as the game went on, which actually helped a bit. But then the referee came up to me, again.
“You ready to play now?” He asked in the most accusing way possible. Wiping the “rain” off of my face to seem more composed, I nodded. For a second I pulled myself back together, till the referee commented, “Well, maybe next time you shouldn’t show up to a game with jewelry on.” That almost pushed me over the edge, but I held it together with what little respect I had left.
His words hurt, a lot.
At the time, there were so many comebacks in my head that were ready to burst
at any moment. I wanted to say them. But, that would have been counterproductive since I had made that decision to stay in the game, and talking back to the referee would’ve gotten me right back out. Considering that I was just a little girl, my words wouldn’t have meant anything anyway.
In the end, our team was successful and won the game. Mom had arrived at one point and was waiting for me by the bottom of the bleachers. She could tell something had gone wrong but didn’t ask until we reached the car and were away from everyone else. I broke down and told her what happened while holding the remains of the red bracelet she made me tightly in my hand.