Different colored minds

Loser

MAVERICK POV

I know why they don't pick me in gym. I'm sitting along the right side of the basketball court In my grey t shirt and my black sweats, I'm the last one against the wall. What a surprise...
Everyone else is split up into two teams in front of me. If I didn't need the credit I wouldn't be taking the class, but alas I do need the credit, and now by consequence they're all subjected to my subpar physical prowess; They can blame the American public schooling system for mandatory pe credits.
"You're on their team kid," says a large teenager. He's on the football team. He's swarmed by people all the time, especially in pe. I push off of the wall towards the group of students he's pointing at.
"Today," the teacher steps towards the front. "We will be playing dodgeball, and since we've played it before in this class I will give a brief recap."
I look out onto the court, look towards the cherry red dodge balls. I've lived in this town since I was six; this pe teacher has been teaching for longer than that. I take a deep breath. The rumors I heard about this class do not compete with being in the class. The teacher told us out loud that he pushes students because they always slack off in his class. I think his real problem is that his expectations are too high for any of these twerpy kids who don't care. Well, there always is that one anal competitive guy in the class—
"Now students," he starts over enthusiastically. I blend into the background bitterly wishing for my headphones.
"Take your places on the court, at my whistle blow, you will start," and so the students disperse on the court. the start whistle resounds in the background. There's a mad rush of students heading towards the front except for me. I wouldn't consider myself lazy, but if everyone else is trying to grab the balls, what is the point of me joining in? It's called strategy.
Swoosh. A ball flies by my right ear and smacks into the wall behind me, I dodge but only barely. Everyone is in free for all mode across the court. I see the football student at the front lobbing balls at us with strict concentration. I will never have his fitness or accuracy but I do have a brain, so at least I have one more thing than he does.
I decide to stand behind someone and guard myself using him. He lasts for a significant amount of time before I have to replace him with another body.
I spot a ball rolling by but as I bend down to grab it a ball shoots from the other side of the room straight into my head.
I'm projected onto the floor, letting both balls roll away. There is a dull pain on the side of my head. I hear a whistle in the background.
"Head shot, maverick, if you'd like you can stay in the game, or you may sit out on the sidelines behind the jail."
My eyes trail towards the jail. That ball was my saving grace. This isn't a bad position to be in at all.
"I think I'll sit out," I say and saunter to the sidelines.
I notice the frame of the tall football player in front of me bend forward to accept a ball someone is throwing at him. He catches it, and runs back onto the court. I let myself slide down the side of the gym wall and land in a sitting position on the floor.
"Steven's a beast, isn't he?" I look towards the person next to me. Here's someone I know I haven't talked to before.
"Excuse me, but, who are you? I don't think I've seen you before now," i say as I look over at her. Im sitting far enough away I hope she can't smell my breath or can tell I didn't have time to brush my teeth this morning. Who am I kidding. I was made to brush my teeth at night.
"My name is Pamela," she lets out a small smile as she says it.
"I moved here this year from South America. What's your name?"
"Maverick," I reply and look back out towards the field.
"This game is brutal, I've always been bad at sports," she begins again. "I'm jealous of Steven. Everyone wants him on their team." I look back over towards the football player.
"I guess that would be a reason to want to be on someone's team."
"It's only fair," she smiles.
She continues looking out at the field too now.
"So, how long have you gone here?"
"Since freshman year," I reply. "But most of us have known each other since elementary."
"I always wonder what that feels like. I usually have to leave my friends behind. It must be fun to be around them for longer."
"I guess depends on the group of people," I say. There's a pause now. I watch as the football player dodges again.
"Sometimes I wish I never knew any of them this well," I murmur under my breath.
But I don't think she hears me.
"At least you have the chance to," she mutters back.
The words take me aback. None of these people are worth knowing. They're trash. Every single one. I'm about to explain this to her when I see her eyes looking at me. They look almost like she cares.
"Do you have any other friends then? If you don't like anyone?" She asks. I blink. What the hell is up with this chick?
"Don't need 'em," I laugh back.
She pauses at this.
"And no one needs you?" She has her cheek laying against her arms, staring at me too intensely.
I gulp.
"Well, I mean, if they needed me they'd be nicer to me, wouldn't they?" I snicker.
And then she laughs. Not a snicker, but a genuine jovial laughs.
"Most people who need you don't realize they do, that's the crux of humanity," she smiles at me as a ball comes our way. It bounces off of her hands.
The kid who threw it gives her a dirty look.
"Looks like You'll have competition for last one picked next class," the girl murmurs. She looks dejected.
"Why can't anyone just play to have fun? Why do they have to be so competitive, you know?" She adds.
Now this really does make me chuckle.
"Then it won't be fun for them."
"I guess it is selfish to want them to play at my pace," she shrugs. And the words break my heart. What is this girl?