Doing it my way Read online

2:03 pm

  . 

     Phys-ed was yet another dreaded class for multiple reasons. All of Ian's principal enemies were in it. Becker, Tim and especially, Felix. Individually, they were tormenting enough, but together in the same class, they were like the hungry pack of terror. All of them had, at one time or another, made it a point to sneak up behind Ian in the hallway and slam him head first into a locker. It made for a lot of dents in the school's lockers that had the faculty puzzled. For these guys, merely ignoring Ian altogether, or just shouting out verbal insults at him was simply not enough. They were guys with way too much hormone coursing through their veins and who needed an easy target to take out their physical aggression on. With his relatively easy-going manner, Ian was a plain sitting duck.

     Coach Bert began as usual with a series of warm up exercises and stretches. The second half of the class was usually taken up with either a quick game of basketball, in which Ian was always chosen last when selecting teams, or touch football, with similar results.

     It was the final fifteen minutes that he always dreaded most. That's when everyone was made to jog around the neighborhood on a route that was approximately a kilometer in length. That meant a good 15 minutes in which he was out of eyesight of the coach, and well within reach of everyone else's fists. It was on these route that he would occasionally get shoved into a thorny bush. Not being a natural athletic type, he usually was the last to arrive back on the school grounds. There was actually an advantage to this, as it meant that towards the end of the jog, he didn't have to be on guard anymore.

   The only bonus, if you could call it that, was that near the end, the route took everyone past the school's indoor gym. During 6th period, the girl's gymnastics apparatuses were set up. Only a select group of unusually talented students got to participate in the school's gymnastics program. Rita and Betty were among them. The doors were never closed, which meant a person could catch a glimpse of what was going on inside when jogging by.

     On this particular day, Ian made an extreme error in his judgment. When he saw Rita doing a handstand on the balance beam, he couldn't resist jogging in place for about fifteen seconds to relish the image. Because he was already lagging behind the other students, this resulted in his late arrival back at the field being even more conspicuous than usual.

     "Ian, what the hell took you so long?" Yelled coach Bert.

     Before he could think of an excuse, Felix suggested, "I believe it's because he was busy peeping at the girls in the gym, sir."

     "Yeah," added Becker, "And this is not the first time he's done that."

     The expression on the coach's face made Ian to look down.

  . "Ian, would you like to explain to everybody why you were watching the girls in the gym?"

     Ian thought for a moment and then replied, "Well err..,, admiring their artistry, sir." This got a few scattered chuckles from everybody else.

    "Why do you suppose everyone else in this class doesn't seem to share your strange inclination to 'admire the girl's artistry'?"

     In yet another spur-of-the-moment lack of judgment, Ian wisecracked, "I don't know, perhaps they have no taste of art."

     This of course, brought on an uneasy onslaught of both "What!" and "Idiot!" from the rest of the class. Felix was now staring at Ian with gritted teeth and blood in his eyes. The one thing a clear-thinking person never did was call a bully that was twice his size, a stupid. Not even as a joke. This time, Ian really let his pride get in the way of good judgment. He knew that at some point in the near future, he was probably going to get it hard, but at least for the moment, he had the last word. The bell rang.

     "Alright, I want everybody except Ian to hit the showers," hollered the coach. He then turned and looked at Ian. "You are now going to give me twenty push-ups, and another lap around the school. And this time, no stopping to 'admire' anything. Move!"

     As the other kids headed for the gym lockers, Ian did as he was instructed. For him, twenty was a lot, but at least it kept him out of the showers where some people were ready to strangle him with a towel.    Little did he know that coach Bert was thinking the same thing. While Ian huffed and puffed on the ground, the coach asked him, "Ian, you are a dead man, you know?"

     "Yes sir." By this time, Ian wasn't putting any thought into his answers.

     "Stand up," ordered the coach, even though Ian hadn't quite made it to twenty yet. "Listen Ian, as one of your teachers, it's my job to insure your safety, even if you don't seem to care about it yourself. There's no way I can, in good conscience, allow you to go in that locker room right now. You know what I meant, don’t you? Just go to your locker, get your books, and then rush home before they have a chance to finish their showers. I have no doubt that at some point in the future, somebody is going to kill you. Now get going!"

     Ian didn't need any convincing. He arrived home and quickly showered and changed. He then hopped back on his bike, and headed straight for Steven's house.

  4:05 pm

     Ian arrived at Steven's and was greeted at the door by her mom.

     "You must be Eon. Come on in, Steven's waiting for you."

     "Ian," he corrected her, knowing that she probably wouldn't remember anyway. He was led down a narrow hallway to Steven's room. Steven was busy on the computer, exploring an online encyclopedia, already looking for ideas for the presentation.

     Steven briefly looked over his shoulder. "Yo, Ian." He resumed his surfing.

     "So dear Steven, have you come up with anything?"

     "Actually, the options are endless," Steven got right down to business. "Let me throw something...How about radio?"

     "Yup, a possibility."

     "How about the internet?"

     "Even more obvious."

     "Rock 'n Roll?"

     "Nah, I'll bet half the class is already doing it. We should come up with something different. That way, we'll at least score some points for originality."

     "Did you have anything in mind?"

     "No, but perhaps we should go for something earlier than the 20th century."

     Steven paused for a moment. "Well, the century before that one certainly had enough to choose from. Ford and his car. Edison and his projector...."

     "Steven, can I ask you something personal?"

     Steven turned away from the computer and looked at Ian, somewhat startled by his sudden desire to change the subject of the conversation. "I suppose," he answered suspiciously. "Depends on the question."

     Ian slumped back into another chair in the room, not exactly sure of how to properly phrase his question. "You sit right next to Rita in sociology, right?"

     "Err..,...Yeah?"

     Ian hesitated slightly, then smiled, trying to keep the conversation light. "Well, how do you find her? She’s superb eh?."

     Steven considered his words for a moment, then answered. "Actually, you are lucky because your seat is in the last row to the right, you have the advantage of being able to stare at her and get away with it. If I were to do that, she would notice it immediately."

     Ian realized that Steven was trying to cleverly dodge the question. "Well Steven, that certainly explains why you don't look at her. But  don't you have the urge to look at her?"

     Steven looked down from his swivel chair and took a deep breath. "Alright, you want an explanation, I'll give you one." Looking back up at Ian, he gathered his thoughts and proceeded. "You know that imported car dealership over on 15th street?"

     "You mean the one that always has that red BMW on the revolving platform in the window?"

     "Yup! Just can’t miss it, eh? So many time I've passed by that display and thought to myself, 'in another few years when I get my driver's license, I’ll get that thing and the girls will never let me out of their sight’."

     "I think that car would make quite a statement in any parking lot," quipped Ian.

     Steven continued. "Yeah, it's nice to daydream. But when I give the fantasy a little more deep consideration, it doesn't really hold up. Especially the price…."

     Ian tried not to allow Steven's cynicism to get to him. "Well Steven, you know, your metaphor has both merits and inaccuracies. I certainly agree that if Rita is a car, she probably would be a Porche. But theoretically, one does not rent or own a girl, one woos her. Do you think there's a chance that Rita..."

     "Ian, forgive my rudeness, but I've got to interrupt." Steven was now shaking his head with a blank look. "Do you know Sheila?"

     Ian thought for a moment. "Um...I believe so. She’s in my English class. Kind of short, brown hair..."

     "Yup, that's her alright." A smile came to Steven's face as he thought of her. "Most guys would probably think she's a little on the chubby side, but there's something about her that I've always found interesting."

  Ian agreed. "I think she's cute."

     "I ran into her a few days ago, I just sort of casually walked up and asked her if she'd care to ride on the Ferris-wheel with me this coming weekend. I figured the worst she could do was say 'no'."

     "I take it her answer was not affirmative."

     Steven looked up, now visibly upset. "As a matter of fact, she just glared at me and said ‘ lay off!' and then just disappeared."

     "Well, maybe she is afraid of heights."

     "No, I distinctly remember