The Boys and Girls in the Cliques

Ray's POV (again! :])

Like I had predicted, Mr. Peacock, the gym teacher, didn't give a rat's ass whether I was late or not. I was perfectly fine with that. Gym bored me.

All the guys on the football team have the same Gym period. The coach did that for us for some reason, although whenever we ask him about it he denies it.

Well, the rest of the class is the more... how should I say this? They're physically challenged. I'm not saying they're crippled, they just suck at sports. And Mr. Peacock lets us jocks do whatever the hell we want, which means a lot of shit happens.

I couldn't possibly tell you how many times these kids have been pantsed or how many times they've gotten a bloody nose or ball to the head, resulting in a bloody nose. It's even worse in the locker rooms. People lose they're clothes; they get burned by scalding water or freeze by icy water while showering.

It's fucking torture to see them get treated that way, but I couldn't possibly imagine what they're going through.

You see, I've been popular my whole life. Ever since Middle School I've been on the Football team. I've always been the star Quarterback, and I've always been loved.

But sometimes I get sick of the spotlight. Sometimes I just want things to slow down. I wish I were invisible, and nobody would care that I can make a few touchdowns.

I've made a promise to myself. I promised myself a long time ago that I would never ever be like them. I would never be a cookie-cutter, stereotypical, unoriginal jock. I would never try to harm anyone or be mean to anyone on purpose. And so far I've never broke that promise.

So while all my buddy's are getting kicks out of messing with everybody, I just stand back and watch.

And sometimes, I get mad at myself for not doing anything about it.__

A bell rings, signaling the middle of the day. It’s lunchtime and I put my book into my locker and to the cafeteria.

When I open the doors I'm greeted with smiles and looks of longing. Everybody either wants to be me, or with me, and I hate it.

I send fake smiles back, just wanting to please them, and I walk to my table. I slump down into my seat and take out my sandwich.

They're talking and I pretend to be listening. But in reality, what they say doesn't amuse me. They are all so shallow and spoiled by their rich parents. Talking about girls they've nailed, a new car or the opposing team we're playing against Saturday.

After an awkward silence, one the linebackers, Howie, a guy with a brown soul patch and no hair, speaks up.

"Dude, you'd never guess what I did today!"

There are grunts of approval, telling him that he could go on with his story.

"I beat up that blond fag over there! It was hilarious! He was such a pansy, didn't even fight back! I think he liked it!" he said the last part with disgust.

There are whoops and guffaws and high-fives were passed around the table.

That made me so furious. Was that the reason Bob was crying in the hall? I looked up and saw Howie with a satisfied smirk on his face. This made me even angrier.

Who the hell do you think you are?" I asked him in rage.

"What are you talking about, Ray?" he asked.

"You're such an asshole. What the fuck has Bob ever done to you?" I spat, my voice raising.

"Well, I'm sorry that I beat up your boyfriend," he snarled as he looked me squarely in the eye.

"No, seriously, dude. Where the hell did you get off beating decent people up? You’re so fucking pathetic, I can't stand even standing next to you!" I stood, my anger getting the best of me.

People were staring at us, and Howie knew this. He didn't want to make a scene, but he had no choice, 'cuz I did.

"What's wrong, Toro? You a fag too? Maybe you'll like it as much as your boyfriend when I beat you!" He yelled.

I scoffed, "You ain't got the guts. If you pound me you have no chance this Saturday."

He knew this, and his narrowed his eyes.

"You wanna bet?"

I lunged at him and punched him square in the jaw. He growled and jumped on me.

We fought for a few seconds before a Lunch attendant pulled us apart and walked us out of the lunchroom.

I looked back to see Bob, a shocked look on his face, but one of gratitude, too. He saw me staring and looked down at his hands in his lap, a small smile on his face.

And I couldn't help but smile, too.