Post by Jaebi Lyckander on Sept 30, 2009 22:52:17 GMT -5
Jaebi hadn’t realized the agenda for the day’s gym class until he stepped out of the locker rooms, straightening the hem of his t-shirt. The two backetball goals had been lowered, and it looked like the male and female students were being separated into two different games. Jaebi approached the boys’ game and crossed his arms. The girls were split into teams differentiated by colored over-jerseys. The boys were seperated by shirts and skins. And the ‘skins’ team was one short.
Jaebi groaned.
“Hey, Lyckander!” Jaebi raised his eyes t follow the voice and met another student who twirled a basketball rather inexpertly in his hands. “You’re skins, kid.”
“Um…Can I not be skins, please?” Jaebi scratched the side of his head and grimaced. “I can switch with another player.”
The other student frowned. “We’ve already got the teams organized for maximum capatibility. You’re the odd one out, and we’re short one player. You’re on our team.”
“I really don’t—“
“Man up and get ready to play or we’re going to give you hell in the locker room, Lyckander.”
Jaebi bristled. He certainly did not appreciate being bullied. Maximum capatibility, my ass, he snarled mentally. Running a hand once through his spiky hair, he grimaced and jerked the t-shirt off of his lean frame, feeling the fabric slide over the skin between the scars that cross-hatched his person. Jaebi flung the shirt to the side, feeling very uncomfortable and very exposed. As his arms fell to his sides, he felt the span of scarring that stretched over the left side of his ribcage. His skin had always been soft-- the scar tissue was of a texture the same but different, both rougher and smoother than his epidermis. Glancing down, he could see marks, indicated by slashes that were a few shades darker than his skin, ever so slightly shiny when the light hit them. He felt something churn in his throat and he swallowed hard before kneeling to tighten the laces on his sneakers.
This was not going to be a good afternoon.
Jaebi groaned.
“Hey, Lyckander!” Jaebi raised his eyes t follow the voice and met another student who twirled a basketball rather inexpertly in his hands. “You’re skins, kid.”
“Um…Can I not be skins, please?” Jaebi scratched the side of his head and grimaced. “I can switch with another player.”
The other student frowned. “We’ve already got the teams organized for maximum capatibility. You’re the odd one out, and we’re short one player. You’re on our team.”
“I really don’t—“
“Man up and get ready to play or we’re going to give you hell in the locker room, Lyckander.”
Jaebi bristled. He certainly did not appreciate being bullied. Maximum capatibility, my ass, he snarled mentally. Running a hand once through his spiky hair, he grimaced and jerked the t-shirt off of his lean frame, feeling the fabric slide over the skin between the scars that cross-hatched his person. Jaebi flung the shirt to the side, feeling very uncomfortable and very exposed. As his arms fell to his sides, he felt the span of scarring that stretched over the left side of his ribcage. His skin had always been soft-- the scar tissue was of a texture the same but different, both rougher and smoother than his epidermis. Glancing down, he could see marks, indicated by slashes that were a few shades darker than his skin, ever so slightly shiny when the light hit them. He felt something churn in his throat and he swallowed hard before kneeling to tighten the laces on his sneakers.
This was not going to be a good afternoon.