Shout out to sensiblynamedchild42 for finding the quote and having the discernment to comment. I think I spelled that right. I know no one is actually reading these, but I love when people review or follow or anything, it's the light of my day!

From Shea Butter.

Will

I walk into calculus and take my seat at the front of the room. Mr. Stewart begins teaching, I relax my head on the desk and tune him out. I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I know I feel someone shaking my shoulder. I groggily glance up and see the raven-haired boy from the bus. My eyes grow wide and he blushes and looks away. I try to stand up but trip over the leg on my chair. All eyes are on us as I grab my binder off of the desk next to mine and we sit down.

"Okay, and with that enlightening interruption, let's get back to the circumference of these spheres," Mr. Stewart says, attempting to sound enthusiastic. I turn to the raven-haired boy and whisper to him, "You're in 12th-grade calculus too?" He stares at me harshly, opens his textbook, and ignores me. I study him. He looks my age, if not a little bit younger, raven hair that goes down to his shoulders, and clothes that make him look like a 'bad boy' and an emo girl had a baby, and he's that baby.

"Will," Someone calls my name, I look up to see the teacher staring intently at me and pointing to the board.

"Can you find the circumference?" He asks. I fidget in my seat for a second before deciding the best of it and slowly walking to the board. He hands me the chalk and I stand motionless, before the class, at a loss for words. I put the chalk to the board and am about to start scribbling gibberish when the bell rings. The echos reverberate throughout the school and people rush out of classes. I take my sweet time getting my things and walking to my last period. Gym. Although I don't mind exercise, in fact, I do it voluntarily every morning, I hate, absolutely despise physical education. The whole changing in front of other people thing isn't really my idea of education. And no, I don't change in a separate area because I'm gay, I don't get turned on by seeing boy's exposed chests. I get to my gym locker in plenty of time. I start twisting the knob right and see the yellow post-it on the locker beside mine. It's written in black swoopy cursive, too fancy to be anyone's of my generation. I squint as I decipher the writing. I recognize the first name, Nico, but the last name didn't make sense. It wasn't English from what I could tell. I feel a tap on my shoulder and spin around to see the raven-haired boy from math and from the bus, standing with his arms crossed looking irritated.

"Sorry," I say quickly and step away from his locker, he grabs the post-it crumples it and throws it over his shoulder. Every eye flies to him.

"Stop staring at me," he exclaims and proceeds to open his locker.

He takes off his shirt and I feel my cheeks reddening. Although he's not ripped, like most boys here he is still fit. His skin is pale olive and he has both of his nipples pierced, one has a black hook-like ring, and the other has the same but in gold. Okay, so I may not get turned on by MOST boys here, but I feel my pants tightening. With much struggle, I avert my eyes and quickly change into the horrendous gym uniform. The school colors are neon green and bright red, so they tried to incorporate that into the uniforms. We have to wear red shorts and neon green shirts with the school's logo in black, it's a tragedy. A whistle is blown and we all march out to the gym, where the girls are already waiting. Cecil and I sit in the back by the water fountains, waiting for instructions.

"Today we are playing dodgeball," Coach Hedge says, Coach hedge is a short and stubby man in a green tracksuit who carries around a metal baseball bat constantly. Pretty intimidating.

Cecil smiles mischievously as we get sorted into teams, He has a knack for games like these, dodging. I get picked for the blue team.

...

It doesn't help that Coach Hedge is screaming

"Die Cupcakes" Every few seconds along with swinging his bat violently, but it feels like everyone is teaming up against me. Balls whizz by and I only nearly dodge them. Nico, I think that's his name, got sorted onto the red team on the last pick. He's standing in the corner with a ball blocking his face.

"Nico do something," Coach Hedge screams wildly,

He scowls but slowly walks forward towards the dividing line. He looks me straight in the eyes and winds up to throw the ball only to get whacked in the back by his own teammate. He falls forward and my heart almost stops.