Lockers and Boxers (boyxboy)

Chapter V - Speak Up

"I'm not happy with this," my mom growls, pointing at her phone. She flips it around me to show me my class grades. "An 82 in History, Jake. An 82! You and I both know you're better than this."

"I'm sorry," I say, trying to resist the urge to point out that an 82 is a good grade. "I'm trying my best."

"You most certainly are not! You spend too much time being lazy and not enough time studying. I'm sick of it."

"Sorry," I mumble. "I'll go study." I look down at the floor, avoiding my mother's eyes as I trudge to my room. I sit down on my bed and attempt to regroup my thoughts. I just kissed the most stunning boy I've ever seen, who I've crushed on since Freshman year, but all I can think about is how something will go wrong.

I mean, why would Gabe like me? I don't understand why he started paying attention to me, much less why he kissed me. I should be ecstatic, but I'm just anxious. Anxious that it's all a ploy. Anxious that I'm going to mess something up. Anxious that Gabe will realize that he's too good for me. Maybe he'll take a nice, long look at me and see how unattractive I am. I start picking at my cuticles to calm my racing mind.

And on top of that, my mom is angry about me having a B in History! I should be happy that I'm doing well in school, but her criticism makes me feel like an idiot. I should probably study more for my test tomorrow, but I feel too dejected to move. I scroll through TikTok until my phone dies, then toss and turn until sleep comes.

...

I observe my reflection on my dark phone screen. My hair is a tattered mess, my eye bags are dark and pronounced, and I am breaking out on my forehead. I felt too somber to get ready this morning, and it shows. Hopefully, seeing Gabe will make me feel a bit better.

I stumble out of Prob & Stats, having absorbed absolutely nothing from the lesson. I walk through the science hall and past the Marine Biology classroom but don't see Gabe. Disappointed, I walk to PE by myself.

The locker room is chaotic, as usual. It feels even more stressful since most days I arrive late enough that most guys have already left. Some boys (ironically, the most homophobic ones) wrestle in their underwear, while others treat the bathroom stalls as a jungle gym.

I look at my sneakers, which I realize are a bit dingy compared to the other shoes I see in the room, not lifting my head until I get to my locker. I turn my lock, click it off, and shove my backpack into the nook. I drag out the process of pulling my clothes out of my bag to hopefully see Gabe before I finish getting changed. After a full minute of pretending to struggle to get my t-shirt out, I hear a familiar deep voice.

"That's what I'm saying! Our team is varsity by name only." I turn to see the beautiful sculpted face I've missed so much. Gabe walks over, wrapped up in a conversation I don't understand with his best friend.

"Hey Gabe!" I exclaim, ready to remember the warmth I felt the last time I talked to him. He turns and gives me a weird, slightly disgusted look before turning back to Marcus. The tingling excitement in my body drains, leaving me empty.

...

"Walls!"

"Here!" Marcus yells. He stands next to Gabe like I did the past few days.

"West!"

"Here!" Gabe shouts, even louder than Marcus, a friendly competition of sorts.

"Wright!"

"Here," I say, not loud enough to be heard over the banter of my classmates.

"Not here?"

"Here!" I say again, a little louder.

"He's here," Gabe projects, sounding disinterested even with his booming voice.

"Speak up next time, Jack," Coach Bayleigh glares at me. For a second, I think about correcting her, but it feels pointless because she only knows the names of the athlete variety. "Everyone needs to find a partner. We're doing workout stations!" The class groans in response.

I turn to Gabe. "Hey, do you want to be partners?" He and Marcus look at me like I'm an idiot before sharing a condescending laugh.

"Why are you talking to us?" Marcus asks, a sneer plastered on his face.

"Oh, uh, um," I don't know if I've ever felt so embarrassed. I look at Gabe, pleading for help, but his blank stare gives me nothing.

"We don't even know you, dude." Marcus looks at me like I'm a lost child who found his way into a high school gym. I walk away from the duo. My heart pounds, and I feel a nervous sweat coming on. Everyone is already partnered up when I realize that the class has an uneven amount of people.

"No partner, Jack?" Coach Bayleigh is just tormenting me at this point. I feel every boy's eyes on me. "Go with Gabe and Marcus. They'll take care of you."

Take care of me? Like I'm a fucking baby? Anger and humiliation swirl in me, creating one of the worst stomach aches of my life. I walk over to the two meatheads, eyes on my shoes.

...

50 excruciating, mortifying minutes later, class is finally dismissed. I change in the corner of the locker room but don't rush out like normal. I sit on the bench in the middle of the room and look down at my dead phone, acting like a blank screen is the most interesting thing on the planet.

Slowly, the boys finish up their antics (tackling each other, throwing clothes, flushing random items down the toilet, normal teenage boy activities) and slowly trickle out. Gabe fist-bumps Marcus goodbye, leaving just us.

For once, my voice doesn't come out shaky.

"What the actual fuck, Gabe?" 

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