I Just Don't Fit In

CHAPTER ELEVEN: Watch Your Back

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I made it to P.E unscathed. Can't say the same for my nemesis. He deserved it.

I may or not have kicked the guy in the shins before walking into the gym. He kept calling me 'smackle' so I smackled him when he didn't listen. He limped in a few minutes later, right in the middle of Meathead shouting at me.

Meathead is the gym teacher and the football coach. He's an ass.
End of discussion.

Why we call him Meathead is beyond my understanding. I don't even know the guy's real name. He's a scary looking man though. King Kong's brother maybe. With a full beard, a very shiny head - he's bald - and just.....packed with meat, I guess.

Word of advice though. When he shouts or blows his whistle, run. Don't think or do anything but run.

One scary ass motherfucker he is.

Apparently I'm twenty minutes late, and I skipped yesterday. I think I skipped Wednesday too. Don't remember. Meathead made me stand in front of the class and shouted mean things to me. I won't even repeat it.

Meathead turns to Trevor and snarls before barking at him to stand next to me. I may not fear other things but Meathead is on my short list of fears.

"Hurry it up, curly!" He shouts at Trevor's slow pace.

Standing next to me - facing the bleachers, one filled with our class - Trevor mumbles curses under his breath when he had to quicken his pace with a limp.

Meathead heard him. I repeat, Meathead heard him!

"What was that, curly?! Speak up! I can't hear you!" I swallowed a lump in my throat, avoiding Meatheads gaze and scooting a little further from Trevor.

Hell no am I going down with curly.

Trevor meets Meatheads cold gaze with his own. Not good. "Then that's too bad."

Along with everyone, I stare at Trevor with wide eyes. Did he just - does he have a death wish?!

"Excuse me?!" Meathead grips his clipboard.

Don't piss him off. Don't piss him of--

"Never mind, you probably won't hear it the second time either. Why bother?" Trevor shrugs, not bothering to hide his smirk.

The gym is immediately filled with murmurs and various gasp as the class - including myself - take in the scene unfolding before us with fearful eyes. This has never happened before. No one ever stood up against Meathead.

Until Trevor. The fucker.

Meatheads nostrils flare, his face turning a beet red color and then inhales deeply, blowing his whistle. The high pitched shriek bouncing off the walls.

None of us had the time to cover. His whistle could blow out your ear drums. I cover my ears the best I could. A couple kids groan, even Trevor, who is bent over trying to protect what's left of his ear drums.

"Everyone Outside! NOW!" Meathead's voice booms. We all scramble out the gym, heading for the tracks.

Trevor thankfully followed, not saying anything and stands next to me. I don't comment because Meathead storms outside with a menacing look.

I heard that some nerd kid pissed his pants when Meathead gave him this very look last year. He was never seen again. Probably homeschooled.

He saunters over to where we huddled, "ten laps! Don't finish, ya don't leave! No breaks! You stop, you start over!"