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Avery Bradley - AVETREE101

"So how'd the French test go?" Jay Bhatia, my closest friend right now, asks me. Second period in personal fitness with Mr Snow, the boy's gym teacher. Such a blast to have a short bald man doing bicep curls and the occasional Bhangra. Jay laughs at the Bhangra part a lot.

I shrug and breathe out. I can feel my arms straining as I pull myself up again on the bar, high above the white tile floor of the school's weight room. My feet wiggle as they hang and then I raise them up, like in a crouching position, but with my arms pulling me up from the bar.

All around the room, workout machines and boys stand. Some of the boys have headphones in and are working out on their own or with weights or balls. Others are at the machines and sweating hard from more... what's the word? Being active? What? Fuck, I need to read a book or something.

A couple of skinnier boys look at me, kissing their teeth because the chicken leg that is I can lift himself up multiple times.

"Well, I don't think that I failed miserably today," I say once I drop down to answer Jay. It's true this time and I'm not being sarcastic like usual.

Jay raises one of his unusually thick eyebrows. Doubt. Ouch.

Adding to that, back of my shoulders, my biceps and core all burn. I'm breathing heavily as I quickly drink the water from the bottle Jay hands me. The dinky bottle makes a crackling sound and I suck all of the water and air out of it so quickly. I'm still breathing heavy from drinking the water so fast. The bottle is now flatter than ever.

Jay smirks at me. "Cheated? 'Cause whenever I ask you about your French you groan like you have a hickey on your neck from last night's 'secret' party." He says to me, looking smug as shit, and I shake my head. The "secret" part of the sentence was put in quotation marks. Along with giving Jay an are-you-serious look. I mean, I may not be the best at languages but at least give me credit for asking for help.

Mistake, though. My blond hair falls from the small ponytail I had it in and now I have to redo it from all of the head-shaking. Fun.

"I got some help." I say to him as I shove my water bottle into his chest. Jay takes it with his left hand and runs his hand through his fuckboy-like hair with his right. I hear the crunch of the plastic water bottle as he squishes it in his hands. That's not nice. Give the bottle a break.

"How?" He asks me again. He always asks questions. I don't really mind but it can get annoying at times. "Don't know. I went on that school blogging site and just messaged someone."

Jay makes an "O" shape with his lips and furrows his thick eyebrows.

Jay is my height, he's about 5'11. That's where our similarities in looks end though. His skin is dark brown like milk chocolate and mine is pale... like a plastic fork. With a slight tan.

I'm a plastic fork. I guess that's how Jay would describe me because he calls me that all of the time. I wonder how he got that idea though. It's forking stupid.

Jay has really dark brown hair that's styled into this stupid quiff but my hair is thin and blond and reaches my shoulders. Jay sometimes calls me Kurt Cobain. You know, that guy from Nirvana. The dead one.

Honestly though, Jay looks like a girl because he has wide hips and a lean body. It makes him sway his hips when he walks. I'm more of a rectangle. So ha. I win, I think.

Also, his eyelashes are just... really long. Abnormally long. The girls are always asking if he wears makeup like this other boy around, Phil. Jay always looks at them weirdly and they have their answer. It's a what-the-fuck kind of look.