Maye's P.O.V.
Once I make it to math, I try to sneak to the seat in the back of the classroom without the teacher noticing. I attempt to maintain the soft, mellow pitter patter of my feet on the tile, but only to be interrupted by Mr. Acosta. "Late again, Miss.Norris."
I mutter a low "Sorry." in response, and continue my way to my seat in the back. I get unimpressed looks from my class mates. Some even snicker. I try to ignore them and appear like I don't notice, but I can feel my face getting hot and the satisfied looks on my classmates faces tell me they know otherwise.
At last, I reach my seat and I sink down into it like I'm the fucking Titanic. After a slight recovery from my embarassment, I decide to dig into my bookbag for my notebook. Then, I take the notes that Mr. Acosta is currently writing on the board.
It's strongly complex to comprehend what's on the board. Not only do I not understand it, but I can barely see. I haven't exactly asked my dad for glasses, though, because I don't really want them. I'm already bullied for God knows what, and I really really really do not want it to get any worse. Everyone already thinks I'm a freak for no reason. Why give them an actual reason? Or maybe there already is one, I don't know. . I've never really been one to stay updated on these things.
I'm honestly not even paying any attention at all. All I can think about is who that kid that helped me was. Why didn't I just turn my head? It's not like he was that scary. He helped me out, after all. Right?
My eyes diverge to the clock, watching as the hands move at an agonizingly slow pace. The last five minues feel like hours. Although, totally worth the wait, because I'm out of here, and I'm on my way to gym. I still hate gym, but anything's better than math.
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"Okay, here's the plan!" Our gym teacher, Mrs. Harper, starts while she tosses random people green pennies. She tosses me one, and I catch it. She smiles at me, and I smile back.
She's a blonde, with blue-green eyes, and rather short. I almost count her as a friend, because she's so lively and a joy to be around. Even though she's a teacher, she knows how to make a class enjoyable to teens. "Dodgeball. Pennies versus shirts. Keep it clean, alright?"
We all nod simultaneously. We, then, separate ourselves into our groups. There's an even amount of boys and girls in each group, which I'm thankful for. I wont stick out as much.
Mrs. Harper blows her whistle, making us all become alert. Some run to the middle to retrieve a dodgeball, and the others (me) stay back to just dodge. I try my best not to get out by dodging everything because once I'm out, nobody's going to pick me to bring me back in.
It's on like Donkey Kong.
A ginger - which may I mention was rather uncoordinated - ventured in throwing the ball at me, but missed me by a mile. I smile triumphantly, only to coordinate with her disappointed expression. Then, I notice one of the girls from the popular group actually trying (Yeah, popular girl. Trying. You shocked yet?). Then, I realize she's turning toward me. I'm not so shocked anymore.
She chucks the ball, but only to miss me, which sucks, because she was so the athletic type.
Not.
This goes on with many others for a while, until I realize the only people still in the game are this random Asian kid, Taylore, and me. Except there's one problem:
Taylore's on the other team.
She's wearing her usual wardrobe: Short gym shorts and a matching camisole, her blonde hair in a high side pony tail. It bounces through the air while she moves to dodge and throw dodgeball at my side of the court.
Unlike most preppy chicks like Taylore, she participates in gym. And when she participates, she aims to dominate whoever she's up against. The team she's on usually never loses. Someone on her opposing team always ends up in the nurse's office when dodgeball' being played.
And I think that may be me.
Her smirk is back on her face, only making me think of the dreadful catastrophe that had happened this morning in the hallway. I instinctively cringe. Then, try to shove the image out of my head to maintain my focus on the game. I have to win this.
Despite my fear of her, I stand my ground, getting into my stance as I wait for her to throw the ball. For a while, she doesn't. It seems like she's just relishing in my fear, like she can smell it in the air. Although it would kind of smell bad, since it reaks of sweaty human beings. Just saying.
The ball flying through the air at full speed is what brings me back to the game. At first, I think it's coming at me, but it's not. It's going at the Asian, and he tries to catch it. Everyone's eyes were bowling balls, while they watched to see if he would succeed. He gets a bad touch, but tries to recover as he dives for the ball. But all hope is lost, when the ball hits the floor. He leaves the court.
Now it's just us. No one except Taylore and me. When she leans forward to pick up another ball, I just stand there. I would have tried to get one, but I know she'll throw when I do. I wait.
The hatred flashing in her midnight-dark green eyes is clear. She's going to throw this ball at me hard. And it's most likely going to hurt. I swallow sharply, as she takes another step forward, but I don't move. I can't.
And when I say I can't, I mean I physically can't. My nerves won't allow me to move to another position on the court. They won't let me move a single muscle in my entire body.
Yeah, Taylore's kind of scary like that.
She throws the dodgeball, it comes in a fire red blur, the ball coming as a surge of energy toward me. I put out my hands to catch it, and before I know it-
Ow.
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༝ Chapter 3, ladies and gents!
༝ Hope you enjoyed!
Xx hoodratmuke
