Being Andy

Chapter 4: Sports & Keegan Don't Mix

Chapter 4

Sports & Keegan Don't Mix

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I was a pretty decent student, if you ask me. Other than the few frequent B's and C's I got in Physics and Math, I was okay in school. I genuinely enjoyed Biology and English, and Chemistry was easy for me because it's all names and colors. But there was one subject that I always dreaded every time it came around. I would be hit with the smell of sweat and the shine of the sleek wooden floor. The only thing I'd hear is the whistle of the ruthless teacher and the laughter of everyone pointing at me as the volleyball hit my ass and brought me to the ground

    My fear of sports was probably spurted when I was about nine years old and Lucas had just realized his love for football. We were playing a game in our backyard when he'd thrown the ball too high for my tiny self to reach. So I did the only thing a typical nine year old would do: jump up, catch the ball, and land on my head on our glass table.

    Six stitches, a broken arm and three ice creams later, I knew that I hated sports with a passion.

    Except for running. Running gets you away from the police and angry neighbours with large sticks, so running was good.

    So there I was, in the school's sports' uniform - a red t-shirt and white shorts with red vertical lines on the sides - standing with my arms folded nervously across my chest, praying to God that I wouldn't die.

    "Alright," Coach Madison said, a clipboard in his hands which he'd used to take attendance. "Now that we're all here," at that, he cast a meaningful look on who apparently seemed to be Freddie Crenshaw, who was wearing a sheepish expression, "how about we start with a friendly game of dodge ball?"

    I resisted the urge to groan. Getting hit by an accidental football in the face was one thing. Getting hit on purpose in the face was a complete different thing.

    While coach chose two team captains - the blond guy from Biology, Jeff, and a muscular black-haired guy with a piercing in his eyebrow, Cook - Logan turned to me with a frown on his face. "You okay?"

    Shay noticed too. "Yeah, you look a little green."

    "Fine," I blurted, but it sounded too squeaky and high-pitched. I was definitely not fine. I was going to suffer a stroke right then and there. "I just... don't like sports very much. Particularly ones with balls."

    There was a moment of silence, then Logan and Shay shared a look and burst out laughing. "What are you-" I was about to scold them for laughing at me when I noticed what I'd said. Rolling my eyes, I muttered, "Oh, grow up."

    "Sorry," Logan's voice was a little hoarse from laughing. "It's just that we're not sport buffs either."

    I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at him, the image of his toned abs flashing through my mind. "Coulda fooled me."

    "No, we're serious," Shay insisted. "Logan may be good with gym equipment, but me? Dude, I trip on my own feet, for God's sakes."

    "Don't worry," Logan clapped my shoulder, a reassuring smile on his face. "We got your back."

    Cook, who looked bored with the lesson, picked me and Logan on his team. Shay wasn't so lucky because he was second to last to be picked and Jeff apparently only picked him because he was better than Eric, the scrawny kid with glasses and freckles who wobbled his way to our team with a dejected look on his face.

    With the teams chosen, we huddled together. "Okay people," Cook started, a lazy drawl in his voice. "The first people we want to take out are Jeff and Josh-"