Fetch, Doggy, Fetch, 6-8, p.1

         It all started on a completely normal Friday evening in Nashville, Tennessee. Well, the evening was normal for the first few hours. It started with just one little match for lighting the Sabbath candles, but it ended in much more than that.  It ended in a catastrophe.  First, there was a gas leak.  Then the match was dropped, and that's when things went wrong.  Have you ever lit one of the most flammable gases in existence on fire? I didn't think so. Let me tell you, it doesn't end well.  I was just a young kid at the time, but it was unquestionably the saddest and scariest moment of my life. You see, my family owned a gas company, and it just happened that we lived right next to it and a pipe ran directly under our house. The pipe was so old and had been under so much strain that eventually the whole thing just, well, blew up. As you could have guessed, our entire house went up in flames, and there was only one survivor: me.
        I woke up in a hospital bed, but I only had vague memories of what happened that night. I remember looking in the mirror and not recognizing myself. My entire face was covered with burns and it looked like my skin was going to fall off my face. I stayed in bed the entire next day hardly talking to anyone. A few days later they sent me to an orphanage, hoping that someone would adopt me. Someone eventually did, but we'll get to that part later. You know how there is always that kid who sulks in the corner and nobody ever remembers his name? Well, I was that kid. In my world, it was just me and my dog, Spot.  Spot was the only thing I had managed to save from the fire, and he reminded me of my parents. The other orphans often teased me, they called me ugly and "scar face." I was what you might call "the odd man out." Spot and I would just mind our own business. Without him, I don't think I would have stopped crying. 
        Life went on in this manner until two people came looking for a kid to adopt. When I looked at them, the word "hillbillies" immediately came to mind. I didn't make any attempt to impress them, because, in my eyes, I was absolutely hopeless. Surprisingly, the pair glanced over at me, walked over to the front desk, pointed at me, and said the words, "We want that one." I could tell that the 


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orphanage people were happy to get rid of me when the person at the front desk did a little celebration dance. I couldn't blame him; I hadn't been what you might call "cooperative." The people at the front desk reached into a drawer and produced a set of adoption papers. Without taking as much as a glance at the papers, they both eagerly started signing. I didn't really know what to do; I just kind of stood there, stunned. Coming to my senses, I quickly packed up all my belongings and said goodbye to the other orphans.  My new parents walked over, grabbed me by the ear, and hustled me out of the orphanage. I felt like I was a banana they had just bought from the grocery store. "We're only doing this because we are in some financial trouble and think that the state will take pity on us if we have a kid, so you better just keep quiet and roll with it," said the man. I said the first thing that came to my lips, "Uuuuuhhhhhhh...." They quickly told me to shut my trap and shoved me into the back of a green van that smelled like one of those trailers that people put horses in to take them from place to place.  Spot jumped in behind me. I didn't know what to do, so I just did nothing. I tried to find happiness in being adopted, but it's hard to concentrate when it smells like horse poop.
        Feeling quite stunned, I tried to start a conversation. "Hi," I said. "So what are your names?"
        "I'm Bill," said the man.
        "And I'm Joanne," answered the one who looked vaguely like a woman.
        "Yours?" Bill asked.
        "I'm Anthony," I answered.
        "What happened to your face?" asked Bill. Trying not to take offense, I stayed calm.
        "I was in a fire when I was little," I said, "Both my parents died."
        "Well that's in the past right?" Bill said. I assumed it was a rhetorical question, but I answered anyway.
        "I guess," I answered.
        "So, how do you like moving?" Bill asked.
        "I hate it," I answered.
	"Well, too bad, 'cause we are," he said with a laugh. The van jerked to life and we 
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were on the road. I think I forgot to mention it, but for the record, my name is Anthony Dunken, but my last name changed to Anderson when I was adopted.
       We were in the car for, I'd say, sixteen hours. It felt like twenty because we didn't stop at all and almost crashed about five times. I guess these people who were now my parents weren't the safest drivers. I had managed to sleep most of the way, and Spot had kept me warm, but it was still probably the most painful car trip ever. They said we had arrived when we pulled up beside a beat-up old house in the middle of nowhere. There was a sign saying Blaine, Nebraska as we drove into the driveway. Hopefully, this was only temporary. There were just a few small houses spread around about 300 acres and what apparently passed as a school in the middle. We started unpacking the luggage from the back of the van. I was stuck carrying Bill's luggage and realized that it had been the thing that had been producing the horrible smell. Assuming that this was our final destination, I pulled the luggage inside. Bill and Joanne stepped into the house behind me. It was dark and musty inside. You could tell that no one had lived there for a while. Spot eagerly ran up behind us and began to check out the house. Bill and Joanne pushed past me and dropped their bags beside the door. "We'll show you to your room," Bill said. He led me down a pair of stairs and into what looked like a basement and showed me to a small and dusty room. I put my bags on the bed and looked around. As far as I could see, I was going to have to fend for myself. After Bill left, I started to unpack my bags. Spot ran into the room and jumped on my bed. I gave him a pat on the head. Other than a picture or my parents, Spot was the only thing that reminded me of them. I was snapped out of my thought when Joanne called down to me to tell me that we had to go register me in the school. I reluctantly walked upstairs, and Spot ran up behind me. Joanne was already out the door, so I had to hurry to catch up.
        Once we got to the school, we went straight to the main office. We had driven through the night, so school was going on. The principal went through the usual questions: name, date of birth, etc. The principal said that the next day I would start school.  
	The next day, I got out of bed and started getting ready for school. I didn't have a 
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backpack, so I used a paper bag instead. Bill and Joanne were still fast asleep. I could hear them snoring from all the way in the basement. Not wanting to disturb them, I quickly made my lunch and started walking to school. Spot started to follow me, but I quickly put him back in the house and closed the door.
        Once I arrived at school, I glanced at my schedule. I had Language Arts first hour in room 205. As I walked to the second floor, I began to look around. Everybody looked mean and disturbing. It didn't look like I would be making friends any time soon. After I arrived at the classroom, I saw a tall, muscular, red haired, freckled guy poking a smaller kid with a pencil. I didn't quite know what to do, so I just sat down in what the teacher told me was my desk. I didn't want to show it, but I could feel the piercing gaze of everybody in room staring at me. I tried to lower my face into my sweatshirt to hide my face, but it just made things worse. I knew I was in for a painful year. The school day went on like a normal day in any other school (with the exception of everybody staring at me like I was an alien invader from Neptune) until the bell rang and school ended. As I was walking out the door, someone pushed me from behind into a railing and another threw me on the ground. I yelped in pain and opened my eyes to find that red haired kid I had seen in first hour standing over me.
        "Look what we have here," he said mockingly. I didn't have enough air left in me to talk. He kicked me in the side again. I wheezed with pain. 
        "Nice face," someone said behind him. Suddenly, that kid who I had seen being poked with a pencil yelled at the bully to stop kicking me. The bully was about to punch him, when a teacher walked out and stopped him. Reluctantly, the bully and his friends ran away so they wouldn't get in trouble.
        "Thanks," I said as I was getting up.
        "What is your name?" he asked.
        "Anthony," I answered. "Yours?"
        "I'm Andrew," he said. "What exactly happened? Your face "Andrew added, pointing in the general direction of his face.
 Fetch, Doggy, Fetch, 6-8, p.5
     
 "I was in a fire when I was little," I answered. "Both my parents died."
	"Oh, I'm sorry..."
        "It's okay," I said
        "So, who was that?" I asked, trying to change the subject.
        "His name is Jack, and he is the school bully. He also has a dog and is county champion for the Frisbee competition," Andrew answered.
        "What is that?" I asked.
        "It is where you throw a Frisbee and your dog has to run and catch it. The longer the throw, the more points you get," Andrew answered.
        "Cool," I said.
        "See you tomorrow," Andrew said.
        "See you," I answered. I walked home in silence, thinking about the Frisbee competition. Could Spot and I beat Jack? I kept pondering this idea until I arrived at the house. Spot ran out to greet me. I walked inside and immediately smelled something burning. I looked around the house in alarm until I found what looked like Mrs. Anderson (Joanne) trying to cook. There was burnt food everywhere, eggs on the floor, noodles on the counters, popcorn exploding out of a pot. It was a complete disaster. I quickly walked around, turning off all the burners and ovens. I found Joanne trying to hide everything in a closet. It took a good hard hour for us to clean everything up, and we stuck with heat-up Mac and Cheese for dinner. After dinner, I did the dishes and then retreated to my room to do homework. I fell asleep thinking about the Frisbee competition.
        The next day, I woke up early for school due to Spot jumping on me at about 6:00 A.M. I got dressed, packed my new backpack, and started making my lunch. I couldn't stop thinking about Jack and his dog. Maybe, if Spot and I beat Jack in the Frisbee competition, he would stop bullying people. I made sure that Spot had been fed, and started walking to school.
	        The school day went as the first one had, everything normal until school got out. This time I was all the way down the stairs when I saw Jack. He and his friends were on either side of the staircase as I walked down the stairs. I started to run. They chased 
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after me. I ran as fast as I could, taking every turn I saw. Finally, I lost them. Just to be sure, I ran a bit farther. Realizing that I had dropped my backpack, I ran back to the school to retrieve it.  Luckily, they had not seen that I had left it, and it was still there. As I was picking up my backpack, I saw Andrew walking out from behind the school.
        "Are you okay?" he asked.
        "I'm fine," I answered.
        "When is the dog competition?" I asked.
        "In about a week.  Why?" Andrew said.
        "Because I was thinking that if my dog Spot and I beat Jack, then he might stop bullying us," I answered.
        "Possibly, but more than a few people enter these competitions, you know. It would be hard enough just getting to the opportunity of beating Jack," Andrew said.
        "Well, I have to start somewhere," I retorted.
        "Good point," said Andrew.
        "See you later," I said.
        "See you," Andrew answered.
        From that point on, I was determined to beat Jack.  Spot and I worked in all the spare time I could muster to get better and better. Eventually, I had perfected my throwing, and Spot had perfected his catching.  Andrew later informed me that you also got extra points if your dog leaps to catch the ball.  Spot and I worked on that too.
        In the middle of all this, some of the Andersons' financial troubles were starting to show through.  A few times, some people showed up, and we were all forced to hide in the cellar.  The police had called a few times, but I was told not to answer.  It was obvious that we were living on the edge of bankruptcy. 
        Finally, the day of the competition came.  Spot and I arrived just in time to see Jack and his dog start to warm up. He glanced at me and sneered.  Spot and I made our way down the field to warm up.  I threw the Frisbee, and Spot ran to catch it. I had thrown it too far to the left and Spot was not able to reach it.  I tried again, but this time it way sailed way high, and Spot wasn't even able to come close.  I tried to calm down, but I was 
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just too nervous.  I tried pretending that Spot and I were just out in the backyard, and that seemed to work. I threw a long clean throw and Spot made a fantastic leaping catch. Now all I had to do was do that several times during the contest. "How hard can be?" I thought to myself.
        After about five more throws, one of the judges made an announcement to all the contestants to form a line. He then explained that for every yard you throw the Frisbee, you get a point.  If your dog jumps to catch the Frisbee, you get an extra ten points, but if your throw is out of bounds, your points do not count. At last, he explained that each contestant would throw five throws, and the top ten scores would move on to the next round.
        Now it was time to get started. The first person did their turn then the second, then the third. Eventually, it was time for Spot and me to try. It felt like a million people were watching me. I could feel everyone's eyes digging into my skin. My muscles began to tense, but I shook it off. I pulled back the Frisbee and let it go.  It was a decent throw, but it wasn't going to win me any prizes. Spot made a leaping catch at about the thirty-five yard line. Then it was time for the second throw. This time the throw was a little bit to the left, and Spot was just able to snag it at about the forty yard line, but he was not able to jump when he made the catch. The next three throws had to be amazing for Spot and me to make the top ten. And that's just what they were. The first one was long and high, and Spot made a leaping catch at about the fifty yard line. The other two were pretty much the same, and it was more than enough to get us into the semi-finals. Not to my surprise, Jack was there too. When he saw me, he gave off a little smirk.  I looked away. As I was looking around, I noticed that Andrew was in the back cheering me on.
        In the semi-finals, we were only going to throw three throws. The top three contestants would move on to the finals. We all lined up at the line marker and the first person started to throw. Eventually, it was my turn. I pulled my hand back and released. It was a fairly good throw, and Spot made a leaping catch at around the forty-five yard line. It was time for my second throw. This one was really good. Spot made a leaping catch at around the fifty yard line. Now it was time for my third and final throw. This one 
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was even better than the second.  Spot made a leaping catch at around the fifty-five yard line. This was just enough to get us into the final round. It was just me, Jack, and some other guy I didn't know. The judges explained that because it was the finals, we were only going to have to throw two throws. Now Andrew was cheering more than ever. I was starting to get really nervous. Jack was first to go, then the other guy, then me. Jack lined up at the line and threw a nice long throw that earned him sixty-two points. Then he threw another just like the first that earned him and his dog sixty-six points. In all, that was 128 points. That was going to be hard to beat. The next person fell a bit short with 115 points. Now it was my turn. I threw what looked like a good throw, but the Frisbee hung in the air and went back a little bit when it settled down. That gave Spot and me fifty-three points. This next throw would have to be absolutely amazing for me to beat Jack. I pulled my arm back and released the Frisbee. The throw was absolutely beautiful. It sailed past the fifty yard line and hung in the air for just a split second, allowing Spot to swoop in and make a leaping catch at the sixty-eight yard line. The throw added seventy-eight points, giving us a grand total of 131, three points better than Jack's score. We had done it! I was so happy. Andrew came out to congratulate Spot and me, and from that point on, Jack and his friends never bothered us again. The rumor spread through the school of how I had beaten Jack, and I was no longer the outsider.
Epilogue
        Soon after I won the Frisbee Competition, the Andersons were kicked out of their house. I was sent back to an orphanage, and was soon adopted by loving parents who always took care of me. Over time, the scars on my face faded, but I was still left with this memory from when I was a kid. I am now a grown man and have two children, both boys, one at the age of eight, and the other at the age of six. I still keep in touch with my friend Andrew, but mostly we have grown apart and gone our separate ways.