fifty three

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five minutes elapsed after class formally began.

once dressed and properly fitted we reconvened in the gym where majority of the girls huddled by the bleachers whilst ms. pratt performed roll call.

if i had full sovereignty over the next sixty minutes i would not about to be playing volleyball, that was for certain. -i was like any girl who liked watching sports, but from the sidelines.

i wasn't any good at side-blocking and bypassing with fake plays.

and for this reason i stood with my foot up against the red brick wall far far away from everyone. standing next to the exit door was pure coincidence.

they'd talked and laughed while i studied and analyzed the fake bimbos with their equally fake tans, mentally checking off those who i wouldn't want to be grouped with for obvious reasons.

"You any good?" Josh, Ms. Pratt's assistant for the day, stood with me by the brick wall that conspicuously hid us from the entire class. that synchronicity was plain bad timing is what it was.

sometime during my independent segregation and my sudden fondness of hanging back and claiming the wall as my lame attempt at being truant, josh had slipped inside the gym carrying a net of white balls and had settled himself next to me as if i'd invited him over to keep me company.

i snorted. as if i needed a man for comfort and support. Psh.

nevertheless, having to talk was throwing me off kilter. "not even a little bit." I was too anxious to think about anything else.

"you know you could ask for Tylenol and say you forgot to wear any undies." Josh squeals. "Hold on. Hey! ow! why'd you hit me."

Pft.

it didn't hurt.

josh was such a baby that i sometimes wondered how he didnt get hurt when he got into a fight with Mason and Toby.

during each of those disputes, (two of which i'd seen first hand), controversy was met with a few disagreeing words followed out by a stream of disturbing threats by Mason that, from what i saw, were never followed through with.

-or maybe josh was being josh and would let a girl hit him on purpose.

josh snorts, rubbing his free hand on his opposite arm, grinning.

since mya was hanging around her usual sixth period crowd i didn't want to intrude so i kept my distance.

crossing my arms around my chest i waited for ms. pratt to complete her comparison of faces to names.

when i'd tried to bring my sweatshirt with me into the gymnasium ms. pratt had candidly said in plain english for everyone to take off their sweaters and sweatshirts.

i'd walked out of the locker room with a silent prayer that ms. pratt would go into labor soon thus cancelling gym at least for the hour until some other teacher substituted.

now i was cold and if the heater was on in the gymnasium my body couldn't make up the difference.

"hey, that's my cue. see you on the court, ebony." wearing button track pants and a black shirt josh hauls the net of volleyballs in one hand and pushes off the wall, jogging over to ms. pratt.

with a purposeful search of the room i noticed mya was talking to a tall caramel skinned girl. Chelsea was uber competitive not to mention assertive on the playing field and she had the body type for it.

it didn't matter which recreational sport we were doing for the day. Chelsea was team leader who sometimes played against her equally matched rival, mya.

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