Beckinsile's Point of View
The humidity from the gym engulfs me as I open the heavy door and walk into the brightly lit space. Part of the right side is taken up by bleachers where my classmates are gathering. My teacher, Ms. Anderson, is checking something off on a clipboard nearby. She's tall and has a muscular build. Her hair is bright red and pulled into a ponytail. Ms. Anderson is dressed in shorts and a t-shirt with our school's logo and mascot. I go to West Way High and our mascot is the wolves; real creative, right? Nope; I never thought the cutesy alliteration was creative or extremely fearsome, which is what a mascot is supposed to be, right? It's supposed to make other schools fear us.
"I guess it could be worse; we could have the teddy bear as our mascot, at least wolves are somewhat fearsome." I think as I walk towards the bleachers. I'm so wrapped up in my thoughts that I don't even notice I've taken the seat right next to the obnoxious pencil-tapper from my math class. "I really need to become more observant," I think as I fold up my schedule and throw it into my bag.
"Hey Beckinsile," I can feel the boy smirking at me.
I clench my fist at my side and put on a fake smile.
"Hello whatever your name is," I say coolly and turn to face Ms. Anderson who is beginning to call roll.
"Here we go again; more people snickering and making obnoxious comments about my name," I mumble to myself and cross my arms.
"It's Oliver," The boy holds out his hand for me to shake.
I take a hold of it and shake firmly. He has a firm handshake as well, and his hands are a lot bigger than mine.
"Oliver Marshall," Ms. Anderson calls out in a chirpy voice.
"Here Ma'am," Oliver calls back to her in a slightly bored tone.
I smile into my lap a little as she calls out more names. I brace myself as Ms. Anderson reaches the end of the alphabet.
"Beckinsile Williams," I hear a few snickers and hushed comments as I raise my hand.
"Very good; everyone's here, that's a good sign. I'm Ms. Anderson and welcome to your physical education class. You will each require a uniform. For those of you that don't already possess one; I will be passing around an order form. Please have those into to me by Thursday. Uniforms are due Thursday; bring them into class with you on Thursday.We will be handing out locker assignments on Thursday,so if you don't have your uniform by then, than you can't receive your locker assignment."
I zone out of her lecture after that. Gym is one of my least favorite classes. Besides the fact that I suck at every sport known to man, I find the class extremely boring in general and don't even get me started on those God forsaken uniforms. I can feel Oliver staring at me but I can't understand why. I can also feel all the populars staring at me with their stupid smirks and utterly useless remarks.
"What kind of name is Beckinsile?" "Why would someone name their kid that? Do they not love her?" "Her parents are just setting her up for failure with a name like Beckinsile." I had heard them all before and long ago decided to not let their unintelligent remarks faze me. Eventually they would give up, or so I hoped.
The teacher gave us the last ten minutes of class to socialize. I was in no mood to talk so I pulled out my phone.
"Wow, I'm going to pretend that didn't hurt." I heard Oliver say in a teasing tone.
"What are you pretending about?" I mumble as I scroll through my Instagram feed.
"I'm sitting right here and you'd rather be on your phone than have a conversation with me. I'm going to pretend that doesn't hurt."
YOU ARE READING
Some Wounds Never HealTeen Fiction
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