Fall 2016Prepare to PlayThe day
of the first 
school game,
the
team
marches
down
the
halls
together,
loud with laughter,
matching jerseys
filling their faces with triumph,
applause around them
as they prepare to play
while
I
flatten
my
b
o
d
y
against the lockers,
                                         moving
                                         out of their way.
All I can think
is
if I was on the team,
I wouldn’t 
be
invisible.
StadiumIt seems like everyone in 
Chesterton
comes to the first game,
the silver and red colors of 
our Bulldogs
streaked on hundreds of faces,
wide smiles,
spirits high,
arms waving,
loud voices
in the stands
chanting the
school spirit song,
the barely fall breeze of September
flowing around us.
It takes 
only one quarter
for everyone to realize
our team isn’t going to win.
Austin’s tosses fall shorter,
Coach’s yells get louder,
and the 
number of fans
in the stands
gets
smaller.
I feel like I’m rewatching
last Sunday’s game,
rewatching Jay Cutler 
get sacked five times,
rewatching Bears fans 
leaving
to 
avoid seeing
a game 
end
so low
it crushes us to the ground.
Late Fall 2016DivisionIn the book
The Last Fifth Grade of Emerson Elementarythe fifth graders
don’t want their school 
shut down.
Because their class
would be
                         divi          ded.
Because when
friendships
fr      ,
classes are
lonely.
Months shuffle forward,
books my only
companions,
lessons and learning
all I do.
I hide in the library
to escape
the embarrassment
of where to sit at lunch,
but even my favorite books
don’t distract me from 
my despair.
I text Adam
about how awful
school is without him,
almost as awful as
the Bears’ season has been.
Their loss in October
against the Packers
left
a bitter taste in my mouth
that hasn’t disappeared
all of November.
                         I’m thinking                         of switching teams, bruh.BOOM.
My book
falls 
out from
my hand
onto the school hall floor.
Adam’s moving on
from the Bears?
From our team?
Free AgentAdam 
and me
were more 
than friends.
We were brothers,
since kindergarten.
Before
we learned our letters,
we learned
to toss a foam football.
Back and forth
and
forth
and 
back.
Adam’s the one who 
first taught me the game,
about the Monsters of the Midway,
Da Bears.
We watched
replays,
studied Super Bowl XX
over and over,
and together,
we drew dreams
of being the next 
Super Bowl stars,
of bringing the Bears 
back to 
sweet greatness.
Adam was the lineman
to my QB,
the one who had my
back,
the encouragement in my ear
that helped me
play.
He was my link to the
game.
Like a free agent
without a team,
when Adam 
left,
my link
was
bro
         ken.								
									 Copyright © 2024 by Shifa Saltagi Safadi. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.