I walked through the pair of double glass doors with a couple of friends, dreading gym class. We were supposed to have it with the band kids today, which in itself wasn't bad, but the sheer amount of kids running around the gym would be. I trudged to the heavy metal door of the girls' locker room and threw my weight against to get it open. With little trouble I squeezed my slight frame through the door and made my way to my locker. It was the same locker I had, had for the past five years. My model boat from the eighth grade was still sitting at the top.
I quickly spin the combination into the lock (10-42-8) and slam it open, snapping a nail off in the process. I yowled for a moment, holding my right thumb with my other hand. My friends snort and I flip them off, unworried about being seen by the teacher. I proceed to kick off my day shoes and shimmy out of my sweatpants, throwing both into the bottom of my locker. Grabbing the extra t-shirt hanging from its hook, I fling off the one that I'm currently wearing into the locker and tug on the green Slippery Rock t-shirt. I snatch up my sneakers and make my way back out of the locker room to the hideously coloured gym.
Slamming my way back out through the heavy metal door, I make my way to the folded up bleachers and hop up on top. I lean back against the wall and begin to pull my sneakers on, old and worn out, but still useful. After doing that I sidle forward to see if I can spy any friends to join up with until we get called into line. I spot a group huddled on the opposite side of the gym and I leap off the bleachers into a jog. I reach them quickly, we exchange niceties, and they go back to talking about whatever while I look around the gym to see who decided to participate today.
My eyes can't find either of the normal gym teachers during my scope, but rather land on woman who is obviously our substitute teacher and even more obviously a high class bitch. I roll my eyes at the way she holds herself, chin up and looking down her nose, but stop when I notice who is sitting right next to her like they had been best friends all their lives: Kayla Fucking Chadsey. My face contorts into one that of disgust and I thwack one of my friends to get her attention.
"Why the fuck does the teacher and Kayla look so buddy-buddy?"
My friend turns towards me and then turns towards to the two love birds. She gives a small laugh at my expense. "That's Kayla's older sister. She's subbing for us today."
I can feel my thumb throb in pain just as my face heats up in anger. From where I'm at I can see the two sisters laughing, the older one still managing to look haughty while doing so. The scene makes me want to rage and punch someone, specifically Kayla, in her face. And I think, while I'm beating Kayla to a bloody pulp, I'll take her older sister on too. And why not hunt down their twat of a little sister while I'm at it. Might as well as get rid of the entire Chadsey clan.
I suddenly feel a hand on my arm and I turn from the scene. My brother-friend Jake is standing there looking at me like I'm crazy. I had forgotten that he was in the band and therefore would be in gym with me today.
"So you've noticed, huh?"
Jake then laughs at the look I give him. It's obvious that I've noticed and that I'm point three seconds from going on a war path. I think I can make a shank out of the plastic handles of the hockey sticks. I know, and everyone who knows me knows that when Kayla is anywhere involved I degrade to a violent being. People sense this and veer away from me. Sometimes I swear I can smell their fear.
"I've forgiven her. Sure, it was a bitch move what she did, but I was an ass and just used her for sex. I had it coming."
At this point the teacher calls for attention and I brush by Jake, my head down and hands shaking. I take my place on the base line with the rest of the 'P's and feel Joe bump into me and giggle like a pervert. I turn to him to remind him that we voted him out of the 'P's and into the 'R's, so why is he still next to me? He laughs and I grace him with a small smile before turning to watch others line up. I stare hard at the top of Kayla's head when she finally looks up and meets my eyes. I feel them narrow without my conscious thought and she turns her eyes from mine.
I turn my head towards the 'W's and yell, "Jake, just because you have, doesn't mean I have." The teacher looks at me and yells for the class to be quite. I want to hit her too, I've decided.