Project Android (Are You Reddie?)

Deadly Dodge-Ball

Y/N

Junior high is bad. The first time you ever have more than two teachers, longer class time, the teachers are more strict, the endless nonsense they drill into your head, and the "Prepare for high school! It's the most important part of your life!!" line.

High school made Junior High feel like heaven and ambrosia under a tree.

The worst part, by far, was P.E. If there was a class that made me more pissed off than any others it was this one.

On top of being physically demanding and pointless, Mr. Taylor, the teacher, was an absolute prick.

When you first see Mr. Taylor your first thought would probably be something like, "Oh he looks cute" or "Oh he seems sweet."

You see, Mr. Taylor looked the polar opposite of how he looked.

With his soft, gentle voice, blonde hair, blue eyes, muscular body, and shorts that were too short for even me, Mr. Taylor was often the subject of desperate, hormonal teenagers' wildest fantasies. Girls and boys.

I was certainly not one of them.

For some unknown reason, Mr. Taylor and his favorite students made it their duty to royally fuck me over every P.E. session. Various things would happen, big or small. Sometimes, my socks would disappear from my locker for no apparent reason, and I was left to nursing destroyed calluses, or the opposing team would accuse me for cheating or something retarded like that. Something would happen. Without fail.

The only thing I enjoyed during P.E. was this one redhead.

I know nothing about him except that he's in jazz band and marching band... and every class that I have. His little smirks at me from across the gym was the secret relationship we had that I barely knew about. A relationship that consisted of zero words for the first few weeks I even knew he existed.

The first day I realized he was... existed, we were starting our dodge-ball unit. How absolutely  wonderful.

Once again, my teammates were hounding me with countless insults, each one more ruthless than the last, and Mr. Taylor was doing zip. Carrot-top was on my team, and, now that I can reflect back, he seemed more uncomfortable than I was with the comments.

Soon enough, there were two of maybe thirteen people left standing, and our teammates were screaming monstrosities left and right from the bleachers.

"She couldn't hit someone if they were sitting on her face!"

"That little dike is gonna cost us a win."

"Communist!"

I actually turned at the last one, laughter bubbling up inside me. I wouldn't be laughing though. A ball whizzed past my ear, brushing my ponytail.

"You're out, y/n." Mr. Taylor cooed.

Fuck my life.

I stomped towards the sideline, brooding over my unfair eviction. Standing in the bleachers, I observed the remains of my team.

Who's that??

The redhead's hazel eyes had followed me all the way to the bleachers, yet he somehow managed to not get annihilated by the dodge-balls whizzing past him. We had made eye contact, and I was immediately intrigued. His eyes held a sparkle of mischief and I knew that i should keep watching.

After this little 'moment' we had, he gripped onto the ammo in his hand. He turned sideways and in one fluid movement, sent the ball soaring towards the dildo of a fifteen year old that got me out.