8: *dies*

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Jonathan sighed. Poor Sherwin. He didn't deserve the treatment he got from other students just for being gay. After watching his friend go into the school building, he finished his apple and tossed it in the trash.

"Yo, Jon," a voice greeted behind him. Turning, Jonathan spotted his friends Hayden and Bryan strolling up the sidewalk.

"Hey," he replied casually. They exchanged high-fives and handshakes, when Bryan noticed something on Jon's shoulder.

"Dude, there's a weird, curly hair on your coat," Bryan told him, pointing it out. Jon tilted his neck to see what he was pointing at. A bright red strand of hair rested on his arm, and he carefully picked it off.

"The heck is that?" Hayden questioned, squinting his eyes. Jon shrugged and dropped it onto the grass.

"No idea. Happens to all of us, sometimes, you know?" he joked. Hayden and Bryan both nodded, then they headed inside, Jonathan trailing behind. "I'll catch up in a minute," he told them.

The grounds were empty. Jonathan held up his arms, examining his sleeves. Then, slowly, he took off his jacket and lifted it to his nose. A sweet, earthly scent clung to the fabric. Sherwin has a really nice smell, he suddenly thought as his stomach flipped.

This was not happening. No way. Jon shook his head and rubbed his eyes. Before he could think about it any more, the bell rang, its high pitched noise rattling his ears. He reluctantly grabbed his book and threw on his coat, then went to first period.

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After an hour and a half of torture, Jonathan left his math class to go to the gym. Inside, the other boys were seated around their coach, Mr. Darwin.

"Alright, kids," Mr. Darwin announced, "It's been pretty cold lately, but today's a nice day. We'll be running laps out on the track." The boys excitedly followed their coach out to the football field, where the band was already there, practicing on the grass.

Jonathan began jogging along the track with his fellow athletes, keeping a steady pace so he wouldn't tire out. Glancing to the left, he watched as rows of band kids marched in synchronization. They all wore identical outfits and moved as a single unit. I wonder which one is Sherwin, Jon thought briefly. Not long after, one of the kids suddenly tripped and his hat fell off, revealing a mop of curly, orange hair.

Jonathan grinned, but his smile faded as he saw others around Sherwin laughing and pointing as he struggled to get back in place. Jon stopped, and almost walked over to the band kids to tell them off, when he heard Mr. Darwin blow his whistle. "Keep running, Jonny!" the coach shouted.

Before he got to speed, Jonathan saw Sherwin's head turn, and they made eye contact. He waved and smiled at his friend, but Sherwin had a mortified expression on his face and he quickly shoved his hat on and resumed marching.

When third period rolled around, Jonathan was anxious to see Sherwin. He waited at their table, tapping his fingers against the surface impatiently. Finally, Sherwin entered the classroom and sat down next to him.

"Hey," Jon said, "You did pretty good earlier." It was a feeble attempt to cheer up Sherwin, who just slumped on the desk in response.

"I made a fool of myself," he mumbled behind his arms. Jonathan had the weird urge to comb his fingers through Sherwin's hair, but instead patted him on the back.

"I woulda yelled at those kids for laughing at you if Coach hadn't made me keep running," he told him. Before Sherwin could reply, the bell rang for class to start, and Mr. Gregg began his lecture.

"Last week, you learned about the human circulatory system. Today, we'll be discussing the endocrine system," he said, pointing to a poster that was attached to the chalkboard. Jonathan rested his cheek on the palm of his hand, his eyes drooping as the teacher continued. "The endocrine system, composed mainly of glands, is responsible for secreting hormones in your body. These are what control puberty, for example." The class snickered at Mr. Gregg and Jon rolled his eyes. Suddenly, he had an idea.

Carefully tearing a small slip of paper, he took out his pencil and drew Mr. Gregg's face with wide, lopsided eyes, and wrote "HORMONES ARE EVIL" next to it. Then he tapped Sherwin on the shoulder and placed the note in his hand. Sherwin hesitated, then unfolded the paper underneath the table. Jonathan watched as he blushed and suppressed a laugh.

Sherwin grabbed his pen and scribbled something in reply, then handed it back. Jon almost fell out of his chair when he saw what Sherwin had done. On Mr Gregg's face, he'd drawn a thick beard and pimples on his forehead, along with the caption, "Puberty hit him a little too hard." Jon coughed to cover up a laugh, then looked over at Sherwin. His friend had a crooked smile, which dimpled at the corners of his mouth.

Jonathan's face felt warm, and he turned away. Pocketing the note, he avoided looking at Sherwin for the rest of class and wrote down everything their teacher said.

Lunch arrived, and the two of them headed towards the cafeteria. Jonathan suddenly remembered what Dante had done last week. "You go find somewhere to sit," he told Sherwin, "I've gotta talk to someone, then I'll meet you over there."

Jonathan's heart pounded with fury as he marched up to his former table. Dante and Ginny were already there, flirting and giggling. He stopped in front of them and cleared his throat. Dante turned and grinned at him.

"What's new, Jon?" he greeted, oblivious to Jonathan's anger. He decided to get straight to the point.

"Why the hell did you tell Sherwin that I hated him?" he asked, trying to control the emotions flooding through his brain. Damn endocrine system.

Dante just shrugged. "I figured you'd appreciate the favor," he said, an arm around his girlfriend. Jonathan frowned at him.

"Well, I don't. And Sherwin is my friend, actually, so back off," he threatened. Ginny raised an eyebrow.

"Dante didn't do anything wrong," she argued. "If you wanna spend your time hanging out with fags, go ahead. But just because everyone likes you doesn't mean you can get away with it." Jonathan didn't care. After giving them a rude hand gesture, he walked off to go find Sherwin.

His ginger-haired friend was seated at the far end of one of the tables, picking at his mashed potatoes. Jonathan sat down next to him and nudged him with his elbow. Sherwin looked up, his eyes slightly puffy. "I-I thought you might not have wanted to eat lunch with me anymore," he sniffed. Jon's insides melted. He hesitated, then put his arm over Sherwin's shoulders. His friend tensed up for a second, then relaxed.

"Nah, don't worry," Jonathan assured him. "I just needed to take care of some business. Let's just say that Dante won't be messing with you again anytime soon." Sherwin blinked, and he began fiddling with his thumbs.

"Thanks," he said softly, then changed the subject. "Here, you can have my potatoes." Jon chuckled and took Sherwin's plate from him. Everything was alright, for now.

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