Wednesday

As I stir the pot for dinner, I keep thinking about gym class today. Everyone was being mean. Even my friends. Don't they get it's just a game?

"You're the poster child for birth control."

"You're about as sharp as the basketball. Our net is that way!"

"Hey, idiot! This isn't soccer! Use your hands."

It didn't even stop once we got to the locker rooms. And some of it wasn't even about how I was playing.

"I'm sorry," he laughed, "I don't speak idiot."

I groan, "Come on you guys, the game is over. Knock it off!"

"Keep talking," some other guy snickered, "Someday you might say something intelligent."

"Hey," Raph calls out to me, "You doing alright? You're staring at the soup like you're gonna pass out."

"Uh yeah," I shrug him off, "Totally fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

He doesn't believe me but lets it slide. Raph's not one to pry. Leo on the other hand, "I don't know, Mike. Why wouldn't you be?"

Before he can ask anything more, I shrug, "Soups done. Someone want to get Don?"

He rolls his eyes and leaves the counter, going to the brainiac's room. I wonder what Don would do in my shoes? He'd probably call them some four syllable word that would have them confused all day. Nah, Don wouldn't pick a fight. He'd…let it go? I can't do that. I don't know, but I'm sure my best friend will have a good idea. Maybe I'll ask him later. Leo comes back, "He's not hungry." Or not. Oh well. I'm sure it doesn't matter anyway. It'll all blow over by the time tennis starts. I can 'hang in there' - as many cat posters instruct - until then.