Allison could not believe this was happening. From her back corner, she could see now how evenly, how precisely the class had managed to separate themselves into neat rows prior to her and Andy's entrance. The girls had flocked to the desks on the right, the boys lumbered at the desks on the left. She knew this formation. This was a panic formation, caused only by--
"Lights please," Mr. Svenson called. The tick, tick, tick of the projector started up from behind them, the gray countdown flashing on the front wall. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1... The movie title shot across the chalkboard:
"Your Body and You."
--
Across the schoolyard, another educational lesson on a similar subject matter was continuing between Bender and Claire beneath the bleachers, far out of focus of Brian's bad eyesight. Having been roughly shooed away by Bender, Brian now sat quietly at the opposite end of the grand stand, still trying to catch a glimpse. Never in his life had he ever hated being nearsighted as much as he did right then.
--
Andy coughed slightly into his sleeve, and immediately regretted it. At the sound, Allison had turned to look at him. And he couldn't take her looking at him. Not here. Not right now. Not when that was flashing across the screen. No matter how desperately he wanted to see Allison's "those." Oh god, was this awkward. Mr. Svenson, making the rounds, compounded the awkwardness by dropping two worksheets on the desk.
"Please follow along, class," he announced. "This one's easy. Using the word bank on the right, please label the diagrams." What kind of cruel joke was this? Andy thought. The worksheet stared up at him, and he chanced a peak over at Allison's. In some misguided attempt by the public school system to create well-educated and well-rounded future leaders of America, they felt labeling the anatomical differences of the opposite gender should be mandatory curriculum: Andy's blank worksheet featured a female diagram, while Allison's featured a male. They looked at each other in total fear.
Their classmates, having wisely arrived in class with enough warning to seat themselves in preparation for this exercise, were giggling or teasing amongst themselves, collaborating on their work. Two girls were blushing over their diagrams, while two of Andy's fellow football players were adding additional detail to theirs. All Andy and Allison could do was look at each other, and then turn away quickly to not look at each other.
"Do you," Allison finally broke the deafening silence. "Want to switch?"
--
It took a moment for Bender to realize that Claire's squirming had become more persistent than usual, and that she was actually trying to push him off rather than wiggle her way closer. She broke away from his determined lips and took a deep breath.
"Never been kissed like that before, have you princess," he smirked, utterly satisfied with her flustered face.
"Stop calling me that," she snapped, a cold front taking over. She wiped at her mouth. "I'm late for class." He wondered briefly how he'd managed to piss her off in the .5 seconds that had passed since she'd been letting his tongue in her mouth, but found it futile. He wasn't going to push it. If she wanted to be in class rather than under the bleaches with him, well…wait, who would want to do that? But still, he wasn't going to push it.
"Well then, allow me to escort you," he held out his arm in mock formality, deciding to ignore whatever tone she was taking with him now. He figured, brushing back his unruly hair, that his charm would win her over in the end, anyway. Why fight it? She scoffed, but nonetheless, took his arm, brushing off the dust she'd collected in their exploits.
"I'm still mad at you," she spoke finally, as he held the door open for her. "I hope you know that."
"Oh I know it," Bender laughed, pulling her back as she reached for her locker, a prying arm around her waist, his mouth against her ear. "And I like it." With that, he let her go.
She stood, alone in the hallway, as he walked off, nearly strutting. Her waist suddenly felt very, very cold, and she held her books closer to her chest. I am mad at him, right? She had to remind herself. I was when I went outside, and then… She watched him turn on his heels, his sneakers squeaking on the freshly waxed floors ,and give her a mock salute before bowing down the opposite hallway. No, I'm right, I'm very, very mad at him, because he, well he..
Why was I mad at him again?
--
"Uh, sir, sir, I'm still--I'm still bleeding." Brian struggled to keep up with Mr. Vork, who was striding across the field with great speed. "Can I see someone about this? Please? Before I turn anemic?"
"Ane-what?" Mr. Vork turned on his heels, his eyes staring Brian down, as if trying to bore the definition of this new, strange word out of him with his eyes.
"Anemic, sir, not exactly the word I'm look for, it rather refers to a deficient supply of iron in the blood, but nonetheless can be related to severe blood loss, which, sir, in these circumstances, I fear I am in danger of…"
"You makin' this up, Johnson?"
"Making up 'anemic,' sir? Uh no, no. Some think it might have even killed Karen Carpenter."
"I thought she died 'cause she didn't eat."
"Oh well, sure sir, I'm not really up on popular culture, sir, but I am bleeding, still, quite profusely and…"
"You eat enough Johnson?" Mr. Vork did not seem to be concerned by the blood soaked front of Brian's PE jersey at all. "You're small."
"Uh, yes, sir, I eat, and yes, I am small, but sir, studies show that some hit puberty much later than others, at which time they can experience growth spurts and… Well, can I see the nurse now?"
"We don't have a nurse." Mr. Vork turned and continued his strides, Brian galloping awkwardly at his side to keep up. "Budget cuts. Nurses are for sissies." He turned on him again. "You a sissie, Johnson?"
"No sir, I'm just…I'm just bleeding."
"Alright. I don't want no anemic sissies on my watch. Try Mr. Svenson, he teaches the health class, probably has some band-aids." Not entirely sure how a band-aid was going to stop his bloody nose, Brian nonetheless gladly accepted the dismissal and hurried off toward the building, away from his P.E. purgatory.
--
Despite the fact that they had switched diagrams, Andy was still staring at his worksheet intently, unsure of himself. Well now this was even more embarrassing. Glancing at the word bank on the right, he didn't seem to be finding much familiar that he…recognized. Sure, there were an obvious few, but the diagram was pretty detailed with some stuff that…how was he supposed to know? He glanced over at Allison but what he saw didn't help much. She'd drawn clothes onto her diagram and was currently writing what appeared to be a protesting manifesto against the objectification of women in everyday culture in the upper left hand corner. Great, Andy thought, I'm supposed to turn that in?
Glancing up from the perplexing details of anatomy, Andy turned to see Brian burst in, bloody and still bleeding from the looks of it. Mr. Svenson leapt into action, with the skill of a health teacher saddled with nurse duties when he had no formal training in anything remotely related: he sat him in the back and handed him a paper towel. Brian and Andy exchanged nods of acknowledgement, but the "educational" movie on the screen had everyone in a dead silence. Allison waved and gave him a thumbs-up at the sight of blood. "You're a beast!" she whispered, a comment that had the surrounding rows of students in a fit, as it corresponded rather perfectly with the on-screen lecture. Andy just shook his head, and tried to get back to the task at hand: labeling…stuff.
