First Stomp

Locked stiff. Eyes wide. Tongue out. That was just a stance—until a jolt fired straight through my plastic joints! I clamped my fingers, bent my right knee, and smashed my cleat into the hard wood floor beneath me. Whack! Solid sound. Real traction. I threw my fists forward, braced my boots against the wood grain, and let out an explosive shout to claim the pitch. I can move!