The summer sun shone down upon the gym students of Santa Consuela
High School like an oven baking a
pizza. As they played soccer on the school’s grass field, sweat rained down
from their bodies to where their gym clothes looked like they had just gone
swimming in a river. The kids and their teacher Miss Lopez were in tiptop
athletic shape, so slowing down wasn’t a problem. For mildly overweight student
Ben Troy, huffing, puffing, and sluggishly dragging himself across the field
was as natural as the sweat pouring from his body.
Ben hated gym class so much that his muscles tightened at
the though of it, only to ask himself, what muscles? He gritted his teeth
together every time Miss Lopez told him to “pick it up”. No gym teacher could
begin to fathom what it’s like to be overweight and constantly tired. Ben could
sleep for days after a shitty soccer game like this. He was already in such a
foul mood that he could blow off a firestorm of swear words at the smallest
annoyance.
But instead all it took was a flying soccer ball to Ben’s
ribcage. The impact stung him so badly that he dropped to his knees and
screamed like a wounded lion. The other students, who paid more attention to
the game than to Ben, accidentally knocked him down as they passed him by,
leaving the big guy rolling around in the grass and crying in agony.
Rather than relishing in his agony, Ben nipped up and
stopped the game with cacophonic vitriol. “That’s it! I fucking quit! I hate
this goddamn game and I hate you stupid ass motherfuckers! Why don’t you look
where the fuck you’re going next time, you goddamn faggots!”
Every student on the field had their wide eyes on him and
one kid mocked him with an, “Ooo, I’m so scared!”
“Shut up, pencil dick!” shouted Ben before stomping off of
the field and sitting on a metal bench with his spine and shoulders hunched
over. He looked down at his black sneakers and gray athletic shorts and
breathed deeply in anger. Contrary to popular belief, heavy breathing didn’t
calm him down in the least. He still felt like punching the heads off of
everybody on that field. Maybe he could grab them by the legs and split them in
half like a banana. Those seemed like reasonable options to a pissed off kid
with weight issues and a teacher who constantly told him to “pick it up”. In
Ben’s mind, the only thing they would be picking up his pieces of skull off of
the grassy field.
“We need to talk,” said Miss Kira Lopez.
Deep down inside, Ben always thought that his
thirty-something gym teacher looked attractive with her brown skin, black
ponytail, and red gym shorts. But he was in no mood to think with his penis. He
wanted to strangle people. He wanted to head butt that kid who made fun of him.
He wanted to rip out the spinal columns of everyone who had ever made fun of him
for being bad at sports.
Miss Lopez sat down next to Ben and said, “You know you’re
going to get detention for swearing at your fellow students. Sure, I don’t like
being hit with a soccer ball either, but those were some pretty harsh things
you said. I certainly don’t appreciate you using a homophobic slur against
them. You know the one I’m talking about.”
“Faggot isn’t a gay slur. It’s a generic insult. Everybody
knows that,” argued Ben, still with his crew cut-wearing head tucked against
his chest.
“You can debate the semantics of an insult all day long, but
that doesn’t change the fact that you just earned yourself detention. I want to
see you here after school for thirty minutes. We’ve got a lot to talk about,”
said Miss Lopez.
“How many minutes of detention are those morons getting for
knocking my ass over and smacking me with the ball? Huh? Soccer is supposed to
be a non-contact sport, which means nobody’s supposed to get hurt. If you
really wanted to injure your students so badly, why don’t you teach some MMA or
some shit like that? At least then, beating the shit out of students will be
legal.”
Miss Lopez placed a gentle hand on Ben’s shoulder and caused
him to glare at her with the viciousness of a wild wolf. She said, “Listen to
me. First of all, that look your giving me doesn’t mean anything right now. You
can get mad all you want, but you’re in a gym class and you have an assignment
to do. Second of all, if we allowed you to beat up whoever you wanted, you’d
completely miss the point of soccer. In addition to being a non-contact sport,
which you alluded to earlier, soccer is a team sport. In order for a team to be
successful, they have to learn how to get along. That’s what school is about:
building communities. What kind of community are we going to have if you’re
constantly screaming vulgar insults at your classmates and threatening to kill
them?”
“If you don’t want me to do those things, then tell those
kids to stop hitting me with the goddamn ball. It’s that simple. And if they do
hit me with the goddamn ball, give them the same amount of detention that I
have,” suggested Ben.
“You know full well that that was an accident. Sure, we
should try our best to reduce the number of accidents in sports, but that
doesn’t mean everybody’s going to suddenly be perfect. Whether you know it or
not, those other kids are depending on you to be their rock. They need your
help in achieving victory. If you’re going to deny that to them, then you’re
not really part of a community at all, are you?”
Ben swatted Miss Lopez’s arm away and said, “What the fuck
do they need me for? I’m just a big fat ass who’s slower than an old lady
crossing the street.”
The gym teacher folded her arms and looked at her student
incredulously before saying, “Is that what you really believe? Do you really
think that using your weight issues as a crutch is going to bring you
happiness? I know you’re unhappy with your body, which is another reason gym
classes exist. I know you don’t believe this right now, but I actually want you
to live a long and healthy life. I want good things for you, Ben. You’re not
going to get those good things if you’re just sitting here on the bench while
your teammates are losing. Come on, give them another chance. Please?”
Ben breathed heavily in and out as he contemplated this
point while trying to sooth his fiery anger. He reluctantly stood back up with
his fists clenched at his sides, ready to go at a moment’s notice. But then he
looked down at his teacher with the same venomous glare and said, “The next
motherfucker who knocks me down is getting the shit kicked out of him. I don’t
care how much detention I get. I still think soccer sucks.”
The vengeful student tromped his way back on the field and
engaged his classmates in even more athletic warfare. He struggled with his
cardio and sucked as much air as he possibly could from this burning and humid
weather. Getting the soccer ball away from his opponents while managing to stay
on his feet this time was a struggle that only added to his huffing and puffing.
Deep inside he didn’t want any more trouble than he had
already gotten himself into. Something about Miss Lopez’s words struck a chord
with him, though he wouldn’t openly admit it. Maybe it was teenaged attraction,
but this was an even worse time to think with his penis. He had a game to win
and goddamn it, he was going to win come hell or high water.
After a long while of sucking in air like a cyclone, Ben
finally managed to gain control of the soccer ball. The easy part was over. Now
it was time to channel is rage into positivity. All of this fire burning in his
belly and lungs was now being used as fuel for his newfound athleticism. He ran
with the ball like a freight train bursting down the tracks. He didn’t care
about his saggy belly or thunder thighs. He didn’t care about his
lightheadedness or quickly beating heart and brain. He didn’t care that his
insides felt like he swallowed molten steel. He had this ball and he wasn’t
letting go.
After a slight bump of the shoulders with another student, Ben
felt like kicking some heads. In one thunderous motion, he threw his biggest,
most earth-shattering kick his heavy frame would allow. But instead of
concussing another student, his raging energy was directed toward the soccer
ball. It flew through the air like cannon volley and sailed past the goalie
before touching the net. Prior to that goal kick, the score was ten-to-ten.
With only seconds remaining, Ben Troy just scored the final kick and led his
team to victory.
In the midst of all of this raspy breathing, Ben’s eyes grew
wide with disbelief as his fellow teammates cheered their heads off. He was in
an even bigger state of disbelief when they actually had the strength to hoist
him on their shoulders in an act of celebration. A small grin formed on his
pudgy face as he was lowered to the grass. He finally did it. He made a
difference in a way that didn’t involve homophobic slurs or extreme violence.
For that small moment, he found his happiness. And then the overweight student
collapsed to the ground and blacked out.
“Somebody get some help! Call 9-1-1!” shouted Miss Lopez.
That was the last thing Ben heard before taking his happy ass into dreamland,
or wherever the dark side was.
