Becoming Beautiful (Wattys2014)

| Chapter 1 |

Chapter 1

I have four words for you: I hate gym class. I hate several things about it, one being that we have to change into shorts and a shirt only to have to change back an hour later. They give us five minutes to change and there are only three stalls, which are usually taken up by girls who want to apply makeup in the full mirrors. I’m forced to change in the middle of the locker room or wait for the locker room to clear out and be fifteen minutes late to class.

Another reason is because of the fact that the sports that we play are taken way too seriously and this is a co-ed gym class, by the way. I had a guy scream in my face because I couldn't hit a baseball that was thrown about four feet to the left of me! They take the games way too seriously, especially the jocks who are forced to participate.

Oh, and the last and final reason is the fact that people get to sit out yet still get a passing grade while I struggle to maintain a C in that class! And Noah Rivers happens to be one of those students. I'm pretty sure he's a bit older than Marissa but that's beside the point. You'd think that because he’s fit and seems like he’s good at sports he'd be one of the shouters but no, he just sits on the bleachers, either writing or reading, or even messing with a high tech camera. A bunch of girls sit out too, but I'm not complaining because that helps to keep the amount of girls in the locker room down.

I was drawn out of my angry reverie by the screamers doing what they do best and shouting in the coach’s direction, asking what we're going to do today. I awkwardly adjusted my stupid gym shorts. “Coach, what are we playing today?”

“Volleyball, Ronnie, you're captain, Vic, you're captain. Pick teams.” I instantly knew that I’d be the last person chosen, I always am. I sighed as I rested against the wall along with everyone else.

They began calling out people, starting with the athletic guys before trailing into the athletic girls. Then they began choosing anyone who looks like they could hit a ball pretty hard or someone they know could hit a ball pretty hard. I obviously didn’t look like the type because I was one of the last three people. The guys groaned as they chose people who had no potential when it comes to sports. Ronnie, the guy’s team who’s forced to endure my presence, groaned when I walked over to their side of the net.

We set up; I was in the front and I started thinking about how this game could go. I imagined myself doing a triple back-flip in order to save the ball and Ronnie would no longer be upset about me being on his team; in fact- I’d be the star player. Nobody would complain about me being on their team ever again. “You, girl!”

My head snapped up when I heard shouting. I immediately saw the ball flying towards my face at crazy speeds and I hastily swatted it away, causing it to fly over to the bleachers. It came whizzing down and hit Noah straight on the top of his pretty little head. I gasped when he looked up, his eyes narrowed and his face filled with rage. As his eyes grazed over the team, everyone turned their gazes towards me. Way to be on my side, guys. He glowered at me as if memorizing my face. I knew that I was on his list of people he wanted to pummel.

Well, there goes our chance at a budding friendship.

<<>><<>> 

I knew that it was definitely risky to take up his sister’s offer, seeing as they lived together and he now hates me with a passion. I knew that I would have to apologize at one point and I wanted to do it in the eye of the public so he couldn't stab me or anything.

When I arrived at lunch, people stared at me as if I committed a heinous act. Is hitting someone who’s known for their excessive amounts of anger a crime? It should be. I’m sure I’d be a heck of a lot safer in a jail cell than out in an open space. I sat down at the usual two seat table in the back of the cafeteria. The back is set up like a café, perfect for loners who don't want to have to deal with 7 open seats around them. Instead, we only have to deal with one. I usually prop my feet on the seat though or I put my bag on it.