Gym class. You hate it because you're small. Small and shy and un-athletic. You don't do locker room banter. You don't do towel whips, or raids into the girls lockers. You don't do any of those things. No, best to stay quite, stay small. Find a quiet corner where you can undress privately. Quietly and quickly. Hunch down, no eye contact. Nearly there. Class will start soon.

First the warm up. This part is easy, hard to fuck up the jumping jacks. Stretch this way, no that way, now look at Jessicas boobs in that tight tank top she wears, now her legs in those too small shorts. It's best to find a spot at the back. You can leer best without attracting attention that way. Warm up is the best part, soon the games will start.

Line up he'll say. Captain's he'll point to two of the biggest and best, and by default most popular boys in the class. Next the teams are picked. The pecking order established. Your value is assigned. Your place in the world dictated. They captains will point. Point and pick, smacking high fives as other athletically minded people join their ranks. The ranks dwindle, the teams are nearly picked, until you stand at the last. To your right stands the slightly autistic kid who always picks at his ass. There's him. And there's you. And these are the best years of your life? Seriously?