Chapter One
Phlunking Phis-Ed
“Good… attempt… Miss Hawkins, but let me remind you, we finished our basketball unit last semester. When I said dribble, I referring to the soccer skill.” Coach Walker called over from the opposite side of the gymnasium. I sighed, slinking to the back of the drill line, embarrassed as usual by my lack of athletic ability.
My best friend Lilly gave a a sympathetic look before dribbling perfectly down the fowl line to Coach.
“Don’t beat yourself up, Kenzie,” Lilly smiled, joining me at the back of the line. “You’re just not a soccer person, that’s all.”
“Or a basketball person, or a volleyball person, or a hockey person…” I remarked sarcastically.
“Alright, alright. But, hey, at least you’re trying. Coach can’t fail you if you’re actually attempting to play.”
“I’m pretty sure he can. So far I have an A in participation and an F in tests, quizzes, and skills.”
“Hawkins! Ramsey! What did I tell you about talking in line?” Coach Walker screamed at us.
“Sorry, Coach.” Lilly and I said in unison.
Coach Walker continued to run the same drill over and over again until the period ended. He insisted that I had to dribble correctly in order for the class to continue on. Clearly, that never happened. I give myself credit for a lot of things, just not sports. I really just don’t “do” sweat or running. Let alone coordination or skill. Seeing that I was a hopeless project, Coach ordered everyone to go change out of our smelly gym clothes.
“Miss Hawkins,” He called, catching me before I escaped into the safety of the girls locker room.
“Yes, Coach Walker?”
“I need to see you in my office, please.” He informed me with a stern face.
Gosh, darn it, MacKenzie, what did you do now? Reluctantly, I followed Coach into his office. All I wanted to do was get out of my sweaty clothes and go home. But of course, things could never go quite so smoothly.
“I am aware that athletics are certainly not your strong suit, Miss Hawkins.” He began, taking a glance at his clipboard. “I have tried very hard to help you improve your performance in class. But, it seems that despite my efforts, you are not improving. The curriculum here at Lincoln High requires me to give my students a grade on their skills, on top of their participation.” Coach pauses, pinching the top of his nose between his thumb and index finger. “Miss Hawkins, you are currently failing Physical Education.”
I bit my lip, not exactly sure what he wanted me to say. So far he had stated the obvious very inclusively. This was really nothing new. I already failed P.E. last year and was forced to re-take it. Then... it hit me. It’s second semester of my senior year. If I fail this class, I won’t receive the credit and I won’t be able to graduate. This could be a problem. “Coach Walker,” I begged, realizing the issue, “is there anything I can do to pass?”
“Actually, there is.” He stated simply.
I nearly teared up with relief. “Oh! Thank goodness! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“Miss Hawkins, may I remind you, you haven’t let me finish. In order to pass my class you must be the Varsity Baseball Team’s manager.”
And goodbye happiness. Why the baseball team? Does it really have to be the baseball team?
“If it’s the only way to pass,” I sighed through gritted teeth, “I’ll do it.”
I slammed my locker shut with frustration. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not usually an annoyed person. I don’t usually get upset over things like this. And I was so glad that I was given a chance to pass P.E. But, out of all the sports, it is extremely ironic that I had to be the manager of the baseball team.
First of all, I know absolutely nothing about baseball. Nothing. Second, managing a team will take up so much of my time after school. And I’ll have to walk home when its dark. Third, I don’t do sports. And lastly, the Varsity Captain and I are not on very good terms. This was going to be an interesting season.
“Kenzie! There you are!” chirped Lilly, catching up to me in the crowded hallway. “What took you so long after class?”
“Oh, the usual, just flunking P.E. again.”
Lilly winced, “Ouch, thats tough. Sorry, girl.”
“Well, Coach said there was one way I could pass,” I said brightly with a sarcastic smirk. Lilly perked up, eager to know the way completely oblivious to my frustration. “All I have to do, is manage the Varsity Baseball Team.”
Lilly, such the supportive friend she is, burst out laughing. I shot her a look.
“What?” she asked defensively. “You act like hanging around with a bunch of guys all day is the end of the world.”
“It is.” I replied stubbornly. Lilly went into a pout, marching along side me silently.
“You know Kenzie, Nathan Sorra is the captain. He’s pretty hunky, right?” Lilly nudges me with her elbow a few times and sends me a smirk.
“Wrong, Nathan Sorra is the most obnoxious, egoistic, snob ever.”
“Fine, then I’ll manage the team and you can sit at home and sulk. I’d much rather have my go at flirting with you-know-who any day.” She shrugged off my comment with a smile.
Let me pause to explain how every girl in the entire student body’s brain works- except mine. It pains me to acknowledge that even my dear Lillian Ramsey has fallen into the evil clutches of Nathan Sorra. Freshman to teachers, every girl in Lincoln High is utterly in love with Nate. They would kill to have him smile at them in the hallway, let alone say a simple hello. I’m not even exaggerating. Just last week during Chemistry, Nate gave his signature grin to Mrs. Long to get out of being marked tardy and she nearly fainted. But actually- I caught her hand gripping the side of her desk to keep her steady. Really, its pathetic.
“Please, be my guest.” I offer in all sincerity. Lilly seemed to be a bit on the air-heady side today, as she merely giggled at how I was being so absurd today.
After listening to Lilly go on about how attractive Nate was for another few minutes, we parted ways and walked home.
I couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of, well, something. My head was hurting from all the “commotion” that had went down in the past half hour. Finally, I was away from Nathan. At school, I am surrounded by the fawning and drooling student body. And Nate always seems to find a way to get under my skin, push my buttons. He would do anything to spend his days annoying me, and solely annoying me.
The disruptive rumble of an old convertible came from behind me. My momentary peace was gone.
“Macs! Wait up!” A deep holler came from the drivers seat of the car. I quickened my pace, hoping to ditch my fellow traveler.
“Stop being so stubborn, Macs,” Nate says smugly, matching my pace. His convertible inched down the street. “C’mon, Macs, let me give you a lift home.”
“Mackenzie,” I correct him, continuing on my way down the sidewalk.
“Fine have it your way… Macs” Nate smirks, his eyes glimmering with delight as I continued to stomp impatiently towards my house. “But not giving in won’t make me drive any faster.”
I didn’t reply, as usual. This was our everyday conversation, it was starting to feel like a bad case of deja vu. We literally said the same things to each other at about this time coming home from school five days a week. Nate was relentless.
And one may think I am being the obnoxious and egoistic one, not Nate, but its not what it seems. After seven hours of embarrassing me with constant teasing and annoying me, he attempts to make up for it during the 10 minute walk back to my house. Then once I’m home the harassing starts all over again.
Finally, I made it to the bottom of my drive way. I scampered up it and through the front door, slamming it shut behind me, not even bothering to say goodbye to Nate.
“Hi Honey, how was school?” My mom greeted me as I walked into the kitchen.
“It was okay.” I told her, tossing my backpack down on a chair and making my way over to where she stood, hunched over by the oven. “I’m flunking gym again.” I said through a mouth full of cookie dough.
“Is this something I should be concerned about?” She asked, wiping her floury hands off on her apron.
Taking a final spoonful of the batter before she popped the unbaked cookie in the oven, I plopped myself down at a seat at the table.
“Nah,” I said, thoughtfully letting my batter spoon linger in my mouth. “Coach found a way for me to bring it up.”
“Oh? What’s that Kenster?” Mom smiled, coming to join me at the table.
“He said I have to be manager of the Varsity Baseball team.” I sulked, still frustrated it meant I had to spend more time with stupid Nate Sorra.
My mom, being completely oblivious to my hate-relationship with Nate, was overjoyed at my opportunity. “Thats awesome, Honey! I’m glad you can bring your grade up doing something fun! Oh, and isn’t little Nathan the captain? I’ll have to call Emily! She’ll be so excited you two are finally doing something together!”
For the most part, I have a pretty chill mom. That is, until the Sorra’s are involved. My mom and Mrs. Sorra, Emily, are best friends. They talk all the time. Not even kidding. And to make it worse, they are all about dinner parties and such, so at least once a month I’m forced to suffer through a visit from Nate.
“Spectacular…” I rejoiced sarcastically, removing myself from the table.
“Kenster? Where are you headed to? We were having such a great little talk!” Mom asked as I stood up to leave.
“Homework,” I shrugged, giving her a knowing look and motioning to my backpack that was slung over my shoulder. She nodding in understanding and shooed me up to my room.
Unfortunately, my room was no safe haven from my pests. See, the reason Nate always offers me rides home is because he happens to be my next door neighbor. The even better thing is that we “share a window”. That essentially means that I can see right into his bedroom and he can see right into mine.
“Macs!” I hear Nate call from outside. Pretending I don’t hear his cries, I continue into my room, dropping my backpack on the ground and moseying over to my desk. Well really to my swivel-chair. I spun around a few times before reluctantly landing in front of my window to face my unwanted friend. I lifted up my window and crossed my arms.
“Can I help you?”
Nate smirked. “Just thought I’d let you know, I heard you and Lilly were gushing over me earlier.”
My eyes rolled- it was instinct by now- but I couldn’t help but color slightly. “Please Nate, I would never have such thoughts.”
“I figured you’d say that, Macs” Nate informed me smugly.
“Did you now…” I muttered sarcastically.
“I did. Which is why I thought you might want to explain why my baseball coach told the team today that Mackenzie Hawkins had volunteered to be our manager?”
I could tell I wasn’t going to get out of this one easily, so instead I chose to end our conversation. “I’ve got important stuff to do, Nate” I grin, shutting my window.
“Alright fine, but have sweet dreams about me Macs” Nate sent me a wink and another smirk, shutting his window and waking back into the depths of his bedroom.
I groaned in frustration. I hated when Nate got the last word. And when the last word made me sound like I was pathetically in love with him. When, clearly, I am not.
__________
random tags:
@bugzyboo15
@en4e
@sambates1558
@lillyisabanana
@cupcakeari39
@prazza
@firefly2418
@rach1312
@lizmania
@brystinpaigexo
@lovely-122
@martinaharrykc
@calliemonroe
@kendallloveswriting
@kelsrenee
@taymariemakemesmile
@wishfulthinking-ana
@yllo-fckyeah
@icecreamstars
Phlunking Phis-Ed
“Good… attempt… Miss Hawkins, but let me remind you, we finished our basketball unit last semester. When I said dribble, I referring to the soccer skill.” Coach Walker called over from the opposite side of the gymnasium. I sighed, slinking to the back of the drill line, embarrassed as usual by my lack of athletic ability.
My best friend Lilly gave a a sympathetic look before dribbling perfectly down the fowl line to Coach.
“Don’t beat yourself up, Kenzie,” Lilly smiled, joining me at the back of the line. “You’re just not a soccer person, that’s all.”
“Or a basketball person, or a volleyball person, or a hockey person…” I remarked sarcastically.
“Alright, alright. But, hey, at least you’re trying. Coach can’t fail you if you’re actually attempting to play.”
“I’m pretty sure he can. So far I have an A in participation and an F in tests, quizzes, and skills.”
“Hawkins! Ramsey! What did I tell you about talking in line?” Coach Walker screamed at us.
“Sorry, Coach.” Lilly and I said in unison.
Coach Walker continued to run the same drill over and over again until the period ended. He insisted that I had to dribble correctly in order for the class to continue on. Clearly, that never happened. I give myself credit for a lot of things, just not sports. I really just don’t “do” sweat or running. Let alone coordination or skill. Seeing that I was a hopeless project, Coach ordered everyone to go change out of our smelly gym clothes.
“Miss Hawkins,” He called, catching me before I escaped into the safety of the girls locker room.
“Yes, Coach Walker?”
“I need to see you in my office, please.” He informed me with a stern face.
Gosh, darn it, MacKenzie, what did you do now? Reluctantly, I followed Coach into his office. All I wanted to do was get out of my sweaty clothes and go home. But of course, things could never go quite so smoothly.
“I am aware that athletics are certainly not your strong suit, Miss Hawkins.” He began, taking a glance at his clipboard. “I have tried very hard to help you improve your performance in class. But, it seems that despite my efforts, you are not improving. The curriculum here at Lincoln High requires me to give my students a grade on their skills, on top of their participation.” Coach pauses, pinching the top of his nose between his thumb and index finger. “Miss Hawkins, you are currently failing Physical Education.”
I bit my lip, not exactly sure what he wanted me to say. So far he had stated the obvious very inclusively. This was really nothing new. I already failed P.E. last year and was forced to re-take it. Then... it hit me. It’s second semester of my senior year. If I fail this class, I won’t receive the credit and I won’t be able to graduate. This could be a problem. “Coach Walker,” I begged, realizing the issue, “is there anything I can do to pass?”
“Actually, there is.” He stated simply.
I nearly teared up with relief. “Oh! Thank goodness! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“Miss Hawkins, may I remind you, you haven’t let me finish. In order to pass my class you must be the Varsity Baseball Team’s manager.”
And goodbye happiness. Why the baseball team? Does it really have to be the baseball team?
“If it’s the only way to pass,” I sighed through gritted teeth, “I’ll do it.”
I slammed my locker shut with frustration. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not usually an annoyed person. I don’t usually get upset over things like this. And I was so glad that I was given a chance to pass P.E. But, out of all the sports, it is extremely ironic that I had to be the manager of the baseball team.
First of all, I know absolutely nothing about baseball. Nothing. Second, managing a team will take up so much of my time after school. And I’ll have to walk home when its dark. Third, I don’t do sports. And lastly, the Varsity Captain and I are not on very good terms. This was going to be an interesting season.
“Kenzie! There you are!” chirped Lilly, catching up to me in the crowded hallway. “What took you so long after class?”
“Oh, the usual, just flunking P.E. again.”
Lilly winced, “Ouch, thats tough. Sorry, girl.”
“Well, Coach said there was one way I could pass,” I said brightly with a sarcastic smirk. Lilly perked up, eager to know the way completely oblivious to my frustration. “All I have to do, is manage the Varsity Baseball Team.”
Lilly, such the supportive friend she is, burst out laughing. I shot her a look.
“What?” she asked defensively. “You act like hanging around with a bunch of guys all day is the end of the world.”
“It is.” I replied stubbornly. Lilly went into a pout, marching along side me silently.
“You know Kenzie, Nathan Sorra is the captain. He’s pretty hunky, right?” Lilly nudges me with her elbow a few times and sends me a smirk.
“Wrong, Nathan Sorra is the most obnoxious, egoistic, snob ever.”
“Fine, then I’ll manage the team and you can sit at home and sulk. I’d much rather have my go at flirting with you-know-who any day.” She shrugged off my comment with a smile.
Let me pause to explain how every girl in the entire student body’s brain works- except mine. It pains me to acknowledge that even my dear Lillian Ramsey has fallen into the evil clutches of Nathan Sorra. Freshman to teachers, every girl in Lincoln High is utterly in love with Nate. They would kill to have him smile at them in the hallway, let alone say a simple hello. I’m not even exaggerating. Just last week during Chemistry, Nate gave his signature grin to Mrs. Long to get out of being marked tardy and she nearly fainted. But actually- I caught her hand gripping the side of her desk to keep her steady. Really, its pathetic.
“Please, be my guest.” I offer in all sincerity. Lilly seemed to be a bit on the air-heady side today, as she merely giggled at how I was being so absurd today.
After listening to Lilly go on about how attractive Nate was for another few minutes, we parted ways and walked home.
I couldn’t help but breathe a sigh of, well, something. My head was hurting from all the “commotion” that had went down in the past half hour. Finally, I was away from Nathan. At school, I am surrounded by the fawning and drooling student body. And Nate always seems to find a way to get under my skin, push my buttons. He would do anything to spend his days annoying me, and solely annoying me.
The disruptive rumble of an old convertible came from behind me. My momentary peace was gone.
“Macs! Wait up!” A deep holler came from the drivers seat of the car. I quickened my pace, hoping to ditch my fellow traveler.
“Stop being so stubborn, Macs,” Nate says smugly, matching my pace. His convertible inched down the street. “C’mon, Macs, let me give you a lift home.”
“Mackenzie,” I correct him, continuing on my way down the sidewalk.
“Fine have it your way… Macs” Nate smirks, his eyes glimmering with delight as I continued to stomp impatiently towards my house. “But not giving in won’t make me drive any faster.”
I didn’t reply, as usual. This was our everyday conversation, it was starting to feel like a bad case of deja vu. We literally said the same things to each other at about this time coming home from school five days a week. Nate was relentless.
And one may think I am being the obnoxious and egoistic one, not Nate, but its not what it seems. After seven hours of embarrassing me with constant teasing and annoying me, he attempts to make up for it during the 10 minute walk back to my house. Then once I’m home the harassing starts all over again.
Finally, I made it to the bottom of my drive way. I scampered up it and through the front door, slamming it shut behind me, not even bothering to say goodbye to Nate.
“Hi Honey, how was school?” My mom greeted me as I walked into the kitchen.
“It was okay.” I told her, tossing my backpack down on a chair and making my way over to where she stood, hunched over by the oven. “I’m flunking gym again.” I said through a mouth full of cookie dough.
“Is this something I should be concerned about?” She asked, wiping her floury hands off on her apron.
Taking a final spoonful of the batter before she popped the unbaked cookie in the oven, I plopped myself down at a seat at the table.
“Nah,” I said, thoughtfully letting my batter spoon linger in my mouth. “Coach found a way for me to bring it up.”
“Oh? What’s that Kenster?” Mom smiled, coming to join me at the table.
“He said I have to be manager of the Varsity Baseball team.” I sulked, still frustrated it meant I had to spend more time with stupid Nate Sorra.
My mom, being completely oblivious to my hate-relationship with Nate, was overjoyed at my opportunity. “Thats awesome, Honey! I’m glad you can bring your grade up doing something fun! Oh, and isn’t little Nathan the captain? I’ll have to call Emily! She’ll be so excited you two are finally doing something together!”
For the most part, I have a pretty chill mom. That is, until the Sorra’s are involved. My mom and Mrs. Sorra, Emily, are best friends. They talk all the time. Not even kidding. And to make it worse, they are all about dinner parties and such, so at least once a month I’m forced to suffer through a visit from Nate.
“Spectacular…” I rejoiced sarcastically, removing myself from the table.
“Kenster? Where are you headed to? We were having such a great little talk!” Mom asked as I stood up to leave.
“Homework,” I shrugged, giving her a knowing look and motioning to my backpack that was slung over my shoulder. She nodding in understanding and shooed me up to my room.
Unfortunately, my room was no safe haven from my pests. See, the reason Nate always offers me rides home is because he happens to be my next door neighbor. The even better thing is that we “share a window”. That essentially means that I can see right into his bedroom and he can see right into mine.
“Macs!” I hear Nate call from outside. Pretending I don’t hear his cries, I continue into my room, dropping my backpack on the ground and moseying over to my desk. Well really to my swivel-chair. I spun around a few times before reluctantly landing in front of my window to face my unwanted friend. I lifted up my window and crossed my arms.
“Can I help you?”
Nate smirked. “Just thought I’d let you know, I heard you and Lilly were gushing over me earlier.”
My eyes rolled- it was instinct by now- but I couldn’t help but color slightly. “Please Nate, I would never have such thoughts.”
“I figured you’d say that, Macs” Nate informed me smugly.
“Did you now…” I muttered sarcastically.
“I did. Which is why I thought you might want to explain why my baseball coach told the team today that Mackenzie Hawkins had volunteered to be our manager?”
I could tell I wasn’t going to get out of this one easily, so instead I chose to end our conversation. “I’ve got important stuff to do, Nate” I grin, shutting my window.
“Alright fine, but have sweet dreams about me Macs” Nate sent me a wink and another smirk, shutting his window and waking back into the depths of his bedroom.
I groaned in frustration. I hated when Nate got the last word. And when the last word made me sound like I was pathetically in love with him. When, clearly, I am not.
__________
random tags:
@bugzyboo15
@en4e
@sambates1558
@lillyisabanana
@cupcakeari39
@prazza
@firefly2418
@rach1312
@lizmania
@brystinpaigexo
@lovely-122
@martinaharrykc
@calliemonroe
@kendallloveswriting
@kelsrenee
@taymariemakemesmile
@wishfulthinking-ana
@yllo-fckyeah
@icecreamstars
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