The next couple of weeks went by like a hazy dream. Iris, Barry, and the team were worried by Bart's unusually lax behavior, but he wasn't aware.

Everything was going smoothly in Bart's book, until he started Gym class.

"I don't want any pansies in my locker room! I don't care if you're 'fragile,' you strip down in front of each other without any hassle or embarrassment and get your ass on the track and run laps as soon as you get here! Is that clear?" Coach Tucker screamed at the boys.

"Yes sir," they all replied harmoniously.

"Don't steal. Don't roughhouse. Don't smuggle girls and here, and DO NOT suck each other's dicks. I don't want any faggot-ass twinks in my gym!" The angry man barked. Bart was taken aback by this. Wasn't anyone going to say anything to him? He had no plan of being sexually active in the locker room (I mean ewww), but that didn't mean that the coach could just throw around a derogatory comment, right?

Bart looked for another boy to speak up, but all of them just laughed.

"Alright, hit the track," Coach Tucker ordered and the boys filed out. Bart hung back. Even if he himself wasn't gay, Bart wouldn't have let it slide. Maybe he had too much of a hero complex, but being rude and offensive seemed like the sort of thing he ought to stand up to.

"Hey, um coach," Bart approached the coach nervously.

"Spit it out, Allen," Coach Tucker barked. He was a wrinkly, oily, stocky man that was always red in the face, even when he was completely calm.

"We don't, um, know each other that well, but I'm sure you're a really crash person. And I'm sure your class is totally schway! But, uh, what you said back there, you know, when you used the politically incorrect word for-," Bart rambled.

"Fags?" Coach Tucker bluntly provided.

"Um, yeah, about that. It's a bit, um, offensive," Bart started. Grife, why was this guy so intimidating? Bart really wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. He probably was just good-intentioned but ill-informed. "Well, I thought that it seemed offensive, sir. Everything's spled, but maybe next time you could be more, er, sensitive? Thanks." Bart smiled as enthusiastically and friendly as he could.

The coach glowered at him like Bart had sprouted a second head.

"Ooooh, did I hurt your feelings? Stop being a pussy, Allen. If I catch you leering at any of my boys, I'll kick your ass so hard that you'll be even more butt-sore," the man threatened. Bart felt a lump well up in his throat.

"I-I'm not….I don't…," Bart was at a loss of words.

"Yeah, yeah, just get out onto the field," Coach Tucker ordered. Bart didn't look back as he sped out of the room and outside.

Bart spend the next few minutes of class cooling off and before it was over, he was ready to put the whole ordeal behind him. He told himself that the coach probably just had a bad day. Everyone had bad days right? When he was getting changed in the locker room after class, two boys pointed and laughed at him.

Bart wasn't sure why though, so he shrugged it off and made his way to Geometry, which was way too easy for him. He was ready to doze off while the teacher lectured the class about the importance of transversals. Lame!

Mr. Crawford saw Bart slacking off, so he called him up to the front of the class to solve a problem.

Bart walked up and solved the problem with ease. When he turned around, however, the entire class erupted with laughter. Bart faced the class with confusion.

Emily, who was also in the same class, jumped from her seat and raced up to the front of the room. Bart frowned. Emily hated being the center of attention, what was she thinking?

She ran right up to him and whispered in his ear, "Bart, you have something taped to your back." Bart stretched his arms across his back and felt a thin stick. He yanked the tape off of his shirt and when he brought the item in front of his face, he nearly fainted.

"DYNAMITE! Everybody get down!" Bart threw the stick into the hall and tackled Emily to the ground. The class roared in hysterics and even Mr. Crawford was in stitches. Emily was the only one who wasn't even giggling a tiny bit.

"Dumbass!" Someone from one of the middle rows hooted. Bart searched Emily's face for answers.

"Bart, what are you doing?" She hissed.

"What's going on?" He asked, not bothering to whisper back. All eyes were glued to him. Emily cupped her hand around his ear.

"Bart, it wasn't dynamite. It was a tampon. Haven't you ever seen one?" She whispered. Bart's entire complexion turned scarlet. Of course he'd heard of about them and had read about them, but he'd never actually seen one. He had on the other hand seen dynamite, and the two objects looked pretty much the same in his book. This was so not crash.

Bart faced the class and tried to weigh his options.

"Haha, guess it wasn't dynamite," Bart shrugged nervously to the class while he laughed along. And with his friends on the team or with Emily, he would have truly found the situation hilarious. But for some reason, under the scrutiny of his classmates, he didn't really feel like he was laughing with them.

"Go ahead and sit down, Bart," Mr. Crawford told him, wiping his eyes. Bart and Emily went back to their respective seats and Bart stayed quiet until the end of class, which was the last one of the day.

Once dismissed, everyone filed out except for Bart and Emily. He hung around her desk while she packed up her notes and books into her backpack.

Thank you guys so much! I've been getting so many kind words from you! They really make me feel better, and I'd had writer's block last week, but after reading your comments, I started getting ideas and writing again. Thank you so much! Love you all!