Robert Luke Benson Mr. Lowe Composition 1 June, 7 2013 The Silent Treatment Trying out for Chain Lightning was one of the harder things I have done in my life. I showed up to try out for one of the top ten ultimate teams in the nation the summer of my senior year of high school not expecting much at all. I ended up making the team, probably not for my speed or disc skills, but more than likely for my ability to keep cool. When I was trying out people kept looking down on me as if I didn't belong there. Different people said different things, but the insults kept getting worse and worse. I knew that they were just trying to get a reaction out of me, because as soon as my mouth opened I would lose my composure and start playing like they were saying. Being quiet to keep my composure was so familiar because of the Little Chief test the year before at camp. It was a grueling test that I wanted to pass just as bad as I wanted to make this team. The test would start with waking up at midnight and having to start a fire and then maintaining the flame until seven in the morning. The next task was the run which always weeds out the boys from the men. Once you had finished the run all that was left was a 1500 word essay on what the camp meant to you and manual labor until five o'clock. Throughout the entire test you cannot talk which is more on your own honor to confess rather than anything else. It took me three years to beat this test and if had lost my composure the first year I wouldn’t have been able to come back and try again. I remember receiving my Little Chief name of Wiley Ferret and thinking this test should have been passed two years ago. The third time I took the test I made sure I was prepared for it because the year before I couldn’t finish the test because of an ankle sprain. The first year I managed to fail the test on a technicality that would haunt me until I finally passed it. I remember the first year so much more vividly than the other two years as if the later attempts didn’t mean as much to me, even though in the
third year I passed the test. I remember letting my fire die out the last few minutes of morning to get ready for the run in the first year. I steady myself at the bottom of the hill and get ready to take off as soon as I hear the word “go”. Without fail the word comes all too soon like an alarm clock in the morning and I pace myself waiting for this god forsaken run to finish. I finally come up over the final crest of the hill with about a twenty to thirty yard stretch to go and I let out a big sigh feeling as if I had done it. I wasn't even recovering air from my exasperated sigh when the man with the stop watch at the finish line yells the number “Ten!” I have to pick up my pace because nine through five have passed faster than the runner who had been saving energy right behind me just sprinted to the finish line. I start running faster and faster and cross the finish line as the number two passes through my ears. I collapse to the ground before one is uttered from his mouth but I know that I am the last to finish. I look around from the ground and including the runner that past me and Beau, my cousin, there are about three other guys left. With the run finally beaten I know that I have all but passed the test now as the rest of the day is filled with silence and manual labor until five o'clock when the test ends. Around two and three o'clock two guys drop out because they say something and are disqualified. I look at the two boys on the way back to their cabins, and now knowing the disheartened looks in their faces I have all the more determination to pass this test. Throughout my time at the camp I had heard different conversations about the little chief test and how if you passed it you would earn the title of little chief, the highest honor in the camp. I set my sights on becoming a little chief as soon as I had heard about it but once I learned what the test consisted of I didn't think I...
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