Practice makes Perfect <<OPEN>>

"Mom, I'm going to the field," I say as I slip out the back door, my small gym bag on my shoulder. It's a nice cool day. The sun hides behind a few soft clouds, and the silver lining makes the day so much brighter. It fits my light-hearted mood, actually.

Today, my math teacher granted me the bonus points on that test on conics. I managed to save my average of 100. In addition, my history teacher assigned a project, but this one is actually one I'll like. We're to make a political cartoon or a poster of some sort that promotes the Capitol--specifically, how it constantly helps us in our District. Coming up with the right idea will be a little difficult, but the assignment itself, once I get started, will be pretty fun. I also managed to get the solo in the most difficult piece my orchestra will be playing at the concert next month. It'll mean extra work, but also an excuse to play more of my favorite and only instrument.

So now, light-hearted, nearly floating instead of jogging, I head for my meadow, where I practice and practice no matter what mood I'm in.

The poor grass in this meadow is so worn out, but if I just let it sit through another rain, it'll be fine again. That's why I chose this field for practicing. I hang my bag in the branches of the large tree on the far end of the small field. Then, I stretch and drop down for a couple of push-ups. I've built up so much arm muscle, I can finally set a reasonable goal of fifteen b-boy push-ups. My gym teacher showed me how to do them. You start with a regular push-up but balance on one hand instead of two. The other goes behind the lower back. Then, you drop onto the forearm and pop back up on one arm again. It's really not as easy as it looks. Then, there are other variations of regular push-ups, like where you push yourself up, clap, and land with both hands on the ground again.

"One...
"Two...
"Three..." Between my whispered counting and grunts, I manage to finish all fifteen, reaching my goal. I pat myself on the back and then lay back under the shade for a while, feeling what remains of the grass brushing my cheekbone in the zephyr that passes.

Then, I start with a few simple freezes and work my way to a handstand. I mastered this a few months ago. I've just perfected my Nike. All in all, my progress has been pretty fast. Next, I have more kicks I want to work on. Soon, I'll be able to set it all to music and just improv a dance. As of now, though, my tricks are all pretty simple. It doesn't matter. Just master them, little by little; just practice them, until they're perfect.

I keep practicing my kicks and don't hear the rustling in the woods nearby until a voice speaks.