![It’s Our Turn](http://frannieheh.com/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/2014-11-07-23.55.25-1-e1640548357955.jpg)
It’s Our Turn
“You’re going down,” Eli, the 4th-grade arm wrestling champion, said.
We sat there, gripping each other’s hand. Girls and boys surrounded us. I loved the attention, the way they were betting who was going to win.
“Go!” The referee of the game screamed.
Our arms were like lions fighting each other. I imagined myself as Hulk, with big muscles bulging out. Eli was stronger than I thought, making my arm start to shake. My face wanted to scrunch up, to show struggle, but I held it down, not allowing myself to show weakness.
“Frannie!” My friend Emily chanted, pumping her fists high in the air.
“Eli!” The boys sang in harmony.
Emily’s chant was like a magical potion, pumping strength into my arm. Just when I was going to beat Eli, a boy’s words floated into my mind: “Frannie, you’re a girl, just be weak and people will treat you like a princess.”
I didn’t want to be treated as a princess, especially if I needed to be weak. I wanted to be Supergirl, someone who was strong and confident, not afraid of anything. However, very few people had given me the chance to even show them who I was or what I could do. If I started talking about how many pushups I could do, how fast I could run, people would either call it lies or say I’m showing off.
“Frannie! Frannie!” Chants erupted from across the room. This time, Emily was leading a group of girls who were calling my name, as if we were a pack of wolves, helping each other.
Emily was like me, even stronger, having a black belt in karate. Not surprisingly, few people believed that. In her eyes I could see how much she wanted me to win.
I strengthened my grip on Eli, wanting to grip it until it turned to dust. Our arms were like a pendulum, fighting back and forth, neither of us wanting to lose. I could hear my heartbeat ringing in my ears. Slowly, his arm started sinking like the titanic, coming closer to the table. My arm felt like a balloon deflating, but I refused to let it give up. I only had one more inch to go. 3, 2, 1. With my remaining strength, I slammed Eli’s arm onto the table.
That day as I sat at my lunch table, Emily said, “Good job arm wrestling today, Frannie! I wish I could have competed and won too!” Out of nowhere, a stampede of kids rushed to me like elephants stomping the floor. Each one yelled at me, “Can I arm wrestle you?” My name filled the cafeteria, like the chorus of a popular song.
I looked to my side at Emily and saw her fingers fidgeting, and her eyes wide open filled with light. She looked at me as if begging me to let her compete.
I smiled and said to the crowd, “Arm wrestle Emily. She’s stronger.”
The kid’s ears perked up hearing there was an even better competition. They looked at each other, almost not believing me.
I smirked and added on, “She’s a blackbelt in Karate.”
Unlike usual, they oohed and aahed, scrurrying over to Emily.
Half of me felt like I was losing the opportunity, but thinking again, I already had my chance to prove who I was. Now, it was Emily’s turn.