hecan'tbelieveit.

He's astounded.
These types of things happen to others.

He walked unlocked the door, and hobbled into the house, limping on his left leg. Every step he took sent a light jolt of pain through his calf, constantly reminding him of the muscle cramp that took him out of yesterday's wrestling practice near the end.

He couldn't complain about being unhappy. Yes, out of four matches in one day, he'd lost two, but those were to two Ontario champions, both more experienced than him, both stronger, faster, and heavier. Besides, his other two matches made him proud enough to forget his losses for the day.

"Hey bud, how was the tournament?"
"Same ol', same ol' "

His dad smiling profusely in the background, he ignored the expression and threw open the fridge for something, anything, to kill his hunger. Soy milk. Thank God. It always hit the spot. Grabbing a glass, and pouring out more than a full serving, he tapped his foot on the ground, testing out his leg. As he began to wash his cup, he became aware that his dad was still smiling profusely.

"One of my colleagues called me today."
"K."
"She's the president's secretary."
"K."
"And she called me"
"oookayyyyy."
"looking for you."
"who?"
"you."
"yoru?"
"your who?"
"not your who, yoruuuuu"
"NOT YORU, YOU."
"why..."
"well, she wanted to talk to you"
"why would she want to talk to me"
"because."
"because WHAT dad?"
"you won the scholarship"

His blank stare told his father that it had not yet processed in his brain. Five seconds later, a sound comparable to a train whistle let loose. Except it was him screaming, not a thousand pound instrument. As his cheer slowly died down, the reality only continued to sink in.

All of those hard hours that he'd worked on his application had finally turned out to pay off. Of all the children of all the Hatch employees across North America, he could say with confidence he was at least the second most impressive according to the evaluation committee. Even that was a huge morale booster to him, without the money. Of course, the money was well welcomed.

With a new energy, he raced upstairs, threw his two bags on the floor (one for wrestling, one for school. hellaheavy.), and raced back down, tripping at least thrice, but catching the railing each time. He grabbed the telephone receiver and dialed the familiar phone number he'd memorized by heart.

"heyyyyyy siiiiissstaa."
"whut."
"guess what?"
"whut."
"i got the scholarship"
"awwww! Buddy, i'm so happy for you, good job!"

Then he dialed out the other number he knew by heart.

"heyyyyyyy brooooooo"
"whut"
"guess what?"
"CHICKEN BUTT"
"no, but close... i got the scholarship!"
"doooooooooood!"

Content with himself, he treated himself to another well-deserved glass of soy milk. With a few simple conversations, his entire day had been turned around. No, his entire month. This one event lifted tons of weight off of his shoulders. Not only his, but his parents. Now they could enjoy at least a bit more of their money to themselves, and not have to use it up on their son.

For him, this meant that he was much farther ahead of schedule with his savings, and it even meant a good chance at a summer job that he hadn't dreamed of getting offered until at least the end of his first year of university. It felt to him that things were starting to actually look up for him, for once.

Finally, he smiled so wide, he felt like his cheeks would rip, and then hit his computer so as to blog away some of the overwhelming joy.

yay :D

note: all preceding conversations were almost purely fictional. I just wanted to make them more interesting. And i haven't said "chicken butt" in years.

Song: I Hate This Part - Pussycat Dolls.