I Like Your Batman Underwear
Chapter One: Maxxie
Bruce Wayne; by day he was a normal guy, by night he was a crime fighting Batman. I wished that I was just like him. Who didn’t? He was a billionaire, co-owner of a company, and always looked out for others. He was my hero, my idol.
I was far from achieving my goal of being like him, though. I was in the eleventh grade, with pale blonde hair and bright cornblue eyes framed by huge black glasses. I was pasty from always being cooped up indoors. While most guys are spending their time outside, I usually spend every minute of every day inside reading comic books or computer games. If I were to be like Bruce Wayne, a miracle would have to happen.
Suddenly, a loud high-pitched noise broke through my thoughts. I cringed as it sounded again. I turned my head in the direction of Coach Hendersen. He kept on blowing his little red whistle, causing his wrinkly bald head to look as if it were expanding.
“Come on you sissies!” he shouted. “Keep moving!”
I wheezed along the track, my feet slapping against the dirt. My best friend Brian panted beside me, his pudgy face turning red with every stride. I could see sweat threatening to drip down his round nose. Just looking at him made me feel as if I were about to pass out.
“One more lap, you girls!” Coach yelled.
I groaned and urged my legs to keep going. My feet felt like weights yet my knees were like Jell-O. I wished that I had a grappling hook or something so I could be swept away from here.
Brian and I finally finished our lap. The other kids in our P.E. class chuckled but didn’t say anything. Coach gave Brian and me a sideways glance before turning to the entire class. His beady black eyes darted from face to face.
“Alright you guys,” he shouted. “We’re going to start our football unit. You all know how to play football and if you don’t you’re un-American! Does everyone know how to play football?”
We all nodded.
“Good! Now, I’m going to split you up into shirts and skins.”
My stomach churned. Coach Hendersen always put Brian and I on the skins team. It was just another way to make the non-athletic kids feel bad about our body image.
“Alright! Listen up! On shirts I want Brody, Parker, Jace, Evan, and Sam! On skins I want Brian, Anthony, Dylan, Marco, and Max!”
The shirts team laughed. As we passed them, they shoved us with their shoulders. I sighed and ripped my shirt off, throwing it onto the sidelines. The rest of my team was absolute terrible. We had Brian the chubby kid, Anthony the manorexic, Dylan the chess team leader, Marco the scrawny Italian boy and of course me the geeky in-the-closet-gay boy.