Hey Romeo, Don't You Think You're Just a Tad Overrated?

McAllister Academy required four years of physical education, and the junior P.E. class was from two-thirty to four. Did I ever mention I was athletically challenged? I was going to sign up for the archery class with Will, Beth, and Alyssa, (because it's the easiest class) but of course, I was too late.

"I'm sorry hon, the archery class will be cutting off now," the lady at the desk had said.

"What? Can't they squeeze in one more person?" I had asked.

"Nope, I'm sorry, dear. Maybe next time. The only options left are basketball and lacrosse."

I walked away, fuming. Lacrosse versus basketball. No way was I doing basketball. Last time I played, this fat kid slammed into me and we fell and I broke my ankle. So of course, I decided on lacrosse.

"Aw man, that sucks, they cut you off!" Alyssa complained when I told them the news.

Will shrugged. "Well, at least there are a lot of hot guys who play lacrosse," he said, trying to mollify me.

I rolled my eyes and went into the locker rooms with Beth and Alyssa, getting ready for our separate classes. I changed into an oversize t-shirt and comfortable shorts. The lacrosse class was gathered outside on the grassy field. Coach Gunner held a huge bag of equipment, and he lined us all up.

"Alright, I'm going to be splitting you guys up into groups according to experience level, and one of our very own varsity lacrosse players will be the group leader," Coach Gunner said, marking people's name off on his clipboard.

Five minutes later, I was placed into the beginners group (surprising huh?) with a lot of people I didn't know when our group leader walked over. And god by all gods, it's the hot jackass who gave me detention, Cam Gallagher.

"Alright people, everyone grab a stick and partner up, we're going to start off with some basic passing," he called out, dumping a whole batch of lacrosse sticks onto the grass.

I managed to get a stick that was relatively new and looked up, hoping to see someone I could partner up with. But of course, being the new student, I was left alone.

"No partner? Shameful," a voice said behind me.

I turned, clutching my stick, to see low and behold, Cam. "Uh, yeah," I muttered.

"What's that? Speak up! I can't hear you!" He mocked. Even during P.E. he flaunted his stupid prefect badge like it was some sort of grand honor.

"I DON'T HAVE A PARTNER!" I yelled on the top of my voice.

Several students turned around to stare. I felt my cheeks go red.

Cam smirked. "Alright then, you can partner up with me. I'm Cam Gallagher, by the way," he said.

"I know," I muttered.

He raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"I said my name's Aurelie Chevalier," I said loudly.

His smirk grew wider. "Oh, so you're the headmaster's new daughter. Aren't you a disobedient girl, getting detention on the first day of school."

I scowled. So he did remember who I was, sort of.

He leaned in closer and I backed away. "Well guess what," he hissed, his expression suddenly dark. "Just because your daddy runs the school doesn't mean you're going to be getting any special treatment from anyone. Especially me."

And with that, he stepped back a few times and flung the lacrosse ball at me, hard. Now I may not be athletic, but I've got to say I've got excellent reflexes sometimes. I screamed and ducked as the ball sailed over my head and landed on the grass behind me with a thump.

Cam rolled his eyes, sighing. "You're supposed to catch the ball in the net, not run away from it," he said.

Great, now he thought I was probably mentally retarded or something. "I know!" I managed to say, tucking a stray strand of blonde hair behind my ear.

I picked up the ball and chucked it at his head. Cam caught it almost effortlessly and threw it back. I tried to catch it with my stick, but failed miserably and had the ball spike me hard in the shoulder.

"Ow!" I complained, rubbing the sore spot.

"Is it really that hard to catch the ball or are you just that pathetic?" Cam said, exasperated.

I glared at him. "Well, sorry I'm not a varsity lacrosse player!" I retorted, dragging out the 'sorry'.

He muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'Idiot' under his breath. Okay, now I was mad. Here's this stupid guy that struts along, hands me detentions, gets mad at me for not being able to play freaking lacrosse, and now calls me an idiot! I was debating whether or not to use the stupid lacrosse stick to strangle the obnoxious boy when Coach Gunner blew the whistle.

"Okay guys, let's wrap it up and head back to the locker rooms!" he called.

Cam immediately started rounding up our group. "Alright guys! Everyone give your sticks to Chevalier! She's going to put them back in the equipment storage," he yelled.

It took me a second to register why everyone was suddenly running towards me, throwing their lacrosse sticks down by my feet. "Wha-wait, why me?" I protested, looking at the messy bunch of sticks on the ground.

"Your punishment for not being to catch the ball today, Chevalier," he said, a growing smirk on his face. "The storage is back there by the track," he pointed to a miniscule shed in the distance. Better hurry up."

My jaw dropped. I had to lug a huge back of lacrosse sticks across two fields? That's like what, half a mile. I turned around to argue, but Cam was already gone. I fumed as I managed to shove all the sticks into the bag, starting my arduous journey to the storage. By the time I got there, I was sweating, my arms were beyond sore, my hair was sticking to my neck and face. I kicked the shed door open, a wave of dust engulfing me. Coughing, I blindly stepped into the dark shed, tripping over two soccer balls and landing flat on my face. I swore. That stupid bastard! I bet he did this on purpose! In a blind rage, I flung the sticks in a small corner, stomping back outside. By the time I reached the entrance of the locker rooms, Cam had walked out with a whole bunch of his friends, already showered and dressed.

"Oh, Chevalier, I forgot. You have to go lock up the storage," He held up a ring of keys and tossed them at me. And being athletic as I am, I dropped them. He and his friends snickered. "Hurry up Chevalier. You don't want to be late for detention," he laughed as they all turned a corner, walking away.

I seethed, my fist tightening around the keys I had just picked up. I walked back to the stupid equipment storage as fast as I could, locked it, and went back into the girls' locker rooms. By now, it was already empty. I stepped into an empty shower, sighing in relief as the hot water washed away all the sweat, dirt, and frustration. After ten minutes, I wrapped a towel around myself and proceeded to put on my gray skirt, blouse, and my flats. I quickly ran a hand through my wet hair and checked the time. It was already five-twenty. Crap. I needed five minutes to walk from the gym to Phillips Hall, and at least another ten to find classroom A-17. I bolted out of the gym, taking a shortcut across the grassy lawn in front of the library. I was out of the breath by the time I reached Phillips Hall. A-17 had to be upstairs, I reasoned when I saw the numbers on the classroom doors on the ground floor. I found the stairs and sprinted up, skidded around a corner, and nearly ran into Cam Gallagher again.

He looked down at his watch. "Hm. You're lucky, you're just on time," he said nonchalantly.

I took a deep breath, leaning on the wall next to me for support. Cam opened the door of the classroom, pointing me inside the dark room. I collapsed at a desk in the front row, putting my bag beside me.

"I'll be coming back in one hour. If you try anything, you don't even want to know what's going to happen," he threatened. And then he walked back into the hallway, slammed the door shut and locked it.

I gaped at the now locked door. So I had to stay for an hour holed up in a stupid, empty classroom on my first day of school for detention. I hate McAllister Academy. No, correction. I hate Cam Gallagher.