"You know you're very lucky Miss Dafti, very rarely we give out this scholarship." I fake a smile, but inside I'm melting. How was I supposed to feel? Oh goody, a scholarship to the most prestgious school in the world, to play a complex sport of skill and determination! ???? Was that how I was supposed to feel? I mouth my thanks and Mom shoots me a look, so I get up, shake the mans rough hand, which is covered in scabs, say something about how excited and very honoured I am, then march out along side my former high school wrestling coach and Mom, who chatter excidetly as they navigate themselves through the university hallways. I follow. "The semester starts next week Violet" Coach Thompson grins a goofy grin, rubbing his palm, "Better start packing." Mom rubs my shoulder and whispers so only I can hear "I'm very proud of you". She kisses my ear and I know soon the smooth skin of my tiny ears will be replaced with cauliflour clones of  Coach Thompsons ears. The van is parked outside the main building and we pile in. As I plop down in the back, the congratulations continues in the front. My eyes flutter close and I tilt to my side so I'm laying on the old car seats. My mind is able to block out the jabber and focus on the song. Wait, is it-? It must be a sign. Our favorite song. By habit I start to sing, quitely so they don't find out. A full three minutes and twenty nine seconds pass and as the radio DJs announce the winner of concert tickets, his words ring through my mind "you have the voice of an angel". This is the part where I beam and say "no you do". Then we hug and he whispers into my ear, rubbing my ear lobe "Soon that'll be completly true". My hand flys up to my ear, because I can still feel the soft, gentle kiss. We could have made it. The two of us. The voices of angels, bodies of misfits, us aganist the world. It was true love. But all good things must end, and when they do, you move on. I chose wrestling. Turns out, I was good. Real good. Good enough to make it to Nationals for high school level; which happened to be the day we would have left for Kenya. But I had to wrestle. And I won and won again and kept winning until one day they approached me. And I said yes, but my heart echoed "I don't like hurting people". And now as we pull onto the main highway heading to the fitness center, so I can train,  I think what I've been meaning to admit to myself for years now; "I don't even like wrestling."