Once again, I fell.

Once again meaning 'for the fourth time', of course. Okay, so now it was safe to say- Morgan sucks at dodge ball. Worse than the girls. Ladies and Gents, now if you wish to point and laugh, this is the designated time to do so... Saying this entire fiasco of gym and the 'leisure time activity' was a waste of an hour and a half of my life that I will never get back… is not entirely true. About eighty nine point seven percent true, but not completely.

This part, however, made up a good portion of the negative percentage. A good ninety four percent of the eighty nine point seven percent. Know what that amounts to? … Well me neither, when you figure it out… let me know. I'm going to go limp away and lick my wounds now.

Ignoring the taunts I get from my class mates and even the few pitying sighs of some, I hold my … bleeding? Since when? … nose; pulling away to examine the vivid, lucid red dripping onto the shining, faux-wood flooring. It wasn't until then that I realized just where my nemesis had pegged me with the ball, as now it was obvious why my mind was rather scrambled.

Still trudging to the designated blue iron door leading into the locker-room, I saw, from the corner of my tempestuous grey gaze, a group of the opposing team gathering about one member- assumably the one whom had beaned me in the face- and give them congratulatory pats on the back, smug huffs, and proud shoves this and thata way. Somewhere deep down I knew it could only be one of two people- Alicia Anderson, the school over-achiever, do-gooder, uber-prep, gorgeous, female. And I'd be getting even more shit for getting a bloody runner from a girl, especially Alicia. But it wouldn't surprise me. Like all girls, she seems sweet, somewhat shy, and an all-around good person… with her long chestnut hair, almond eyes, and un-belying wardrobe of the common teen… she was a downright bitch. Pretty face, pretty nasty attitude.

As the group dispersed for a short moment before reforming its mass of white tees and blue shorts, I managed the slightest glimpse of the perpetrator to the assault upon my abused face. The other of my choices – Dakota Perkan. The guy who everyone hated and loved the same. Everyone adored him and his athletic tendencies- he'd played nearly every sport available to a high school teen- how he was the nicest guy… not Alicia-bitch-in-disguise-nice, but Dakota-sincere-and-true nice. And he was good looking to boot. Any and every girl had their eyes on him at any given time.

This was also part of the reason everyone hated him. Now, when I say everyone, I mean all the guys. I'm sure you can guess why.

Jealousy mostly.

Did I hate Dakota Perkan?

Well yes.

I did.

I couldn't give you a legitimate reason.

Being as completely reasonable and levelheaded as I were… /sarcasm.

So mostly the same reason everyone else did. And I just wanted to be different I suppose. I have this tendency to take a disliking to anything people seem to adore. Per instance, video game or television characters. If a large amount of people seem infatuated by a certain character, this in turn causes me to develop a slight loathing of them and to seek out a favorite of my own, one of the less noticed or cared about characters. And then, once favorite-ed, they die. It's a curse.

I do that with people too.

But they usually don't die.

Anyway, I can't much think anymore, as thinking requires blood to the brain and most of that has been leaking out my nasal passage for a few minutes now whilst I try and remember how to turn the knob on the badly painted locker-room door. Merely clawing at it until I realized I had an opposable thumb and simply turned the handle.

As I entered the dank, dark room, I chanced one last glance behind me to find the center of all the commotion starting directly at me with a blank, solemn glare. And being the brave, daunting, take-no-shit-from-no-body guy I am… ducked my head, darted inside, slammed the door, and hid behind the nearest row of lockers.

Smooth, Morgan.

Okay, so maybe the guy was just a little intimidating- sort of a quite a bitlotandsuch- but never would I renounce this fact to anyone other than the little man living in my head…

A-N: So it's a work in progress. I don't have the attention span to write long chapters. And updates are to my flippant discretion. Kay loves, bai.