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Erik Pieropan
Mrs. Harris
ENC 1102
Dec 12, 2011Snapshots
The alarm clock rang early and we awake to begin our adventure filled day. My husband
Jeff and I got the kids all showered and ready to go. We set off for “Ohana” at the Polynesian
Resort. As soon as we entered the restaurant area, the smell of eggs, bacon, and biscuits filled the
air. The noise of tourist excitement became louder as we approached the dining area. The hostess
showed us to our table in the jam packed restaurant and the waiter began taking our orders. The
food came out after only a few minutes and we began munching away. I cut bite sized pieces of
egg and bacon for Erik as he was only 6 years old. Our first son, Michael, and our daughter
Lindsay, ages 13 and 7 respectively, were happily devouring their faces in the biscuits and gravy.
Excitement grew on their faces as Mickey and Minnie began to make their rounds.
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The two characters approach our table after visiting a few others. Lindsay pulls out her
autograph book for him to sign and Michael pulls out his camera for a picture. Jeff and I take out
the video camera to capture Erik’s expression only to see pure and utter fear in his face. His eyes
were wide open and tear filled. Mickey went directly to Erik when he got to the table. Erik starts
to burst out crying, throwing his eggs and bacon every which way. The plate gets knocked off
the table and shatters into pieces, while his meal splatters all over the ground. The entire
restaurant is now staring at us, everybody’s’ shocked faces tuning into the madness at hand.
Mickey had clue what to do. He was trying to calm Erik down but nothing was working. After
what seemed like millions of attempts to get Erik to stop, I finally take him out of the restaurant
and up to our hotel room to calm down. Luckily for all of us, including Erik, we have the entire
scene on film to be viewed at a later date. We always joke about sending it into “America’s
Funniest Home Videos.” Who knows, maybe it would win!
“Ring, ring, ring.”
The bell sounds as 600 half-asleep kids stumble into the main entrance of the school. As
usual, I show up to homeroom late and whip out my half complete math homework from the
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night before. I race through my homework while glancing at the clock every five seconds, trying
to beat the time until first period begins. As soon as the bell rings, I just fill in random answers,
hoping the teacher will forget to collect it. The hallways had a rare buzz about them that
morning. As I walk downstairs for math class, all I see are an abundance of multicolored t-shirts,
strange headbands, and teachers with safety goggles on. Today was the day of the dodge ball
tournament.
The annual dodge ball tournament in our high school was an extremely big deal. Classes
end after lunch, when all of the students file into the gym. The teams all go sign in and wait for
things to get settled. Every team has their own distinct jerseys. We wore all black cutoff shirts
and black shorts. There were a total of 32 teams, consisting of 7 players on the team. Going into
the games, we were the favorite. Our squad consisted of 7 varsity baseball players, 3 of which
were pitchers. By far we threw the hardest and most accurately in the school, but there were
other teams that were very capable of knocking us off. We went in as the same team since we
were freshman and came away empty all three years. The previous year we had lost in the
championship, so we had a chip on our shoulder.
The stands were packed with all the students and the teams that were not playing at the
time. Chants of “overrated” were being shouted about, directed towards us. We opened up
against a team of all freshman girls. Easy to say, we knocked them all out in 2 minutes without
any of us getting hit. History repeat itself in the next game, beating a team comprised of the
science department teachers and then again against a coed class team. We came down to our last
man in the semifinals, but manage to win.
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We had made it to the championship game. All of the people in the stands came onto the
gym floor and surrounded the court. We felt a very similar, deja-vu feeling to the one we had the
year before, but we knew we couldn’t finish short again. The whistle blew and we all ran up to
the line, grabbing as many balls as we could and running back. Balls began flying every which
way, with everyone jumping and diving on the floor. One by one, players were eliminated until it
came down to just me and two other kids on the other team. The crowd started chanting my last
name, although I don’t know if they were rooting for me to win or fail. One of my opponents
began to make his move. Being a first basemen in baseball, I had pretty good catching skills. I
knew if I had a chance to grab it in the air, the player would be eliminated and a player on my
team could come back in. He threw the ball and I pinned it against my chest. Our best player
comes running back on the court, I toss him a ball, and he hits the other kid in the shoulder. It
was over. We all jumped into each other’s arms like we had just finished the Super Bowl. After
years of suffering defeat in front of the whole school, we had finally won. Hoisting the trophy
was one of the greatest feelings of my high school career.
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As winter turns to spring, the closure of my senior year of high school quickly
approaches. The workload becomes less, the sun stays out longer, and prom season arises. Every
year, prom seems to cause drama and gossip to come about. This year was no different. My ex-
boyfriend Erik and I dated at the beginning of the year for about 5 months. We remained fairly
close friends after we broke up, but we soon lost contact all together. Gossiping as teenage girls
do, my close group of friends and I got together one night, predicting who will ask who.
“Danielle, Jon is definitely going to ask you! Have you seen the way he looks at you in
math?”
“Haha, I don’t know. I don’t think it is like that. We are just friends.”
My two other friends look at me.
“Who is going to ask you, Madeline? Erik?”
“I don’t know. We were really close at one point, but it fell off a while ago. I just hope
somebody does.”
As people ask their dates, interest seems to arise on how these questions are posed. My
best friend Sally got asked on the morning announcements at school, Danielle got asked by a
note written on her car windshield, and I have yet to be asked. I began to get nervous and the
question of going solo to the prom began to pop into my head.
A few days later, I take to my after dinner homework like usual. I multitask between
calculus problems and Keeping Up with the Kardashians. After I finish, I lay down on the couch
to relax before bed. As time passes, I begin to hear strange noises. It sounded like constant
clanking and at first, I thought it was a ghost. After a few minutes, it stops. I return to watching
the television when my phone begins to vibrate. The screen reads, “Incoming Call from Erik
Pieropan.” Why would Erik be calling me at 10:30 at night on a Tuesday? I answer with a:
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“Hello?”
“Hey! What are you doing right now?”
“Just watchin’ tv, what’s up?”
“Come outside.”
Click.
Erik abruptly hung up the phone. I hesitantly get up and slip shoes on. I open my front
door and my eyes lit up. The word “PROM?” illuminated my driveway, spelt out in individual,
small candles. I look over to see Erik standing there with roses. I instantly run over to him and
give him a huge hug. I said “yes of course!” and hugged him again. I ran inside to get my camera
and cell phone to take pictures. We talked for a while and enjoyed the moment. I was extremely
happy that he surprised me, and was now really excited for prom.
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Rivalry games are huge no matter when they are played, but when the two teams face off
in the state tournament, it becomes a new level of hatred. In the first game of the upcoming state
tournament, we will be playing our county rivals, the Hoosac Valley Hurricanes. Being the
senior captain and starting point guard of my basketball team, I have a lot of pressure to succeed
and get all of my teammates involved in the offense. Luckily, we have one of the loudest and
most intense home crowds in the state, led by my best friend Erik. Throughout the regular
season, he obtained the nickname of “Superfan” and he takes great pride to it. He started the
tradition of the student section standing from the first whistle through the last, even throughout
halftime, and is the source of many chants against the opposition such as “4 Plays JV!” and the
home school signature “Whose House? Braves House.” I hope he can get our crowd to a new
level of excitement in the upcoming tournament opener.
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Game day arrived and the excitement grew in me as period after period went by. People
constantly gave me wishes of good luck as I walked from class to class in the hallways. A
seventh period study hall gave me a good chance to relax and shoot the breeze with Erik before
the game arrived.
“You nervous yet bro?” he says as we take our seats in the back of the class.
“Haha not yet man but I know I will be when the time gets closer.”
“You hear the master plan yet?”
Puzzled, I responded with a “no, what are you gonna do?”
“Haha you’ll see” he said.
As the last bell rang, it was time to go home. After drinking plenty of fluids and relaxing,
it was time to go back to school to start preparing for the game. The team usually showed up an
hour and a half before game time to warm up and get in the right mind frame. As I pulled around
to the back parking lot, I saw an unusual amount of people there for it being so early. Once I
parked and walked up towards the back door of the school, I couldn’t believe my eyes. There
were 4 trucks with the beds of them packed full of kids eating hamburgers and hotdogs with
music blasting. I saw Erik in the back of one of the trucks with his usual orange “College Game
Day” construction helmet that he wore to all of the big games. I approach him and say:
“Dude, what the hell is going on out here?”
“Brett and I had the great idea to tailgate before the game.”
“You realize its 40 degrees outside?”
“Haha it’s the playoffs baby. Being cold is just a state of mind. Go get ready for the
game. I’ll take care of what goes on out here. Good luck bro.”
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Erik kept the crowd elevated throughout the entire game, and we had won by 3 points.
Even though he wasn’t the one scoring the points, he had a big role in the success of the team.
Bibliography
Bianchi, Madeline. Personal Interview. 19 September 2011
Decker, Cory. Personal Interview. 23 September 2011
Pieropan, Erik. 18 September 2011
Pieropan, Tracy. Personal Interview. 18 September 2011.
