Gym class used to be my least favorite class. I used to pretend to be sick to get out of this torture device called physical education. But today was different.
“Alright fellas, line up!” Coach Jones shouted at the end zone.
“What are we doing today?” I asked Kenny, the kid who taught me how to play spades.
“We’re on a football field, crossover,” he said back. “What do you think we’re gonna do?”
“I’ve never been good at football,” I said. “I don’t even know the rules.”
“You’ll be fine. Just catch the ball and run.”
Coach Jones split us all up into teams and thankfully I was on Kenny’s team.
The girls were running laps around the field on the track. Or, more accurately, walking around the track. And two girls walked past us and waved at us.
“Hey, Kenny,” they sang.
“Wassup?” he nodded at them then looked away smoothly.
I watched them walk away. They were gorgeous—the kinds of girls I wished I looked like when I was a girl. Smooth, golden skin, that curly good hair pulled back into cute little buns, firm boobs padded in those sports bras, tight waists, and round cheeks squeezed into those tight shorts. Lucky girls.
I turned back to get ready for the game to start, but for some reason I couldn’t stop thinking about those girls. I couldn’t get their bodies out of my head. Those legs. Those thighs. Those booties. My brain was replaying the images on rewind over and over again. And before I knew it I was turning my head back and watching them walk away again.
“Ey yo,” Kenny bumped me. “You got a visitor.”
He pointed down and I saw a bulge in my shorts. “Oh my gosh!” I covered myself and bent over to hide.
Kenny laughed and slapped my shoulder.
“This is so embarrassing,” I whispered. “I can’t believe this is happening. I gotta go. I gotta go. Please hide me.”
“You’ll be fine,” he said. “It’ll go away soon.”
The game started and Kenny was right. Once everyone got into position and the game was about to start, all my thoughts about those sexy girls were replaced by how much taller everyone was than me. And with my thoughts far from them, my boner faded away and a new feeling came up. Fear.
“I’mma snap you in half, crossover,” the kid standing in front of me said.
“Please don’t,” I told him. He was tall enough for my head to reach his stomach, his chest looked like two bowling balls and his biceps were the size of basketballs. He looked like he ate cars for breakfast. Why was this guy the one guarding me?
“Just catch the ball and run,” Kenny had said. Simple as that, right?
“Hut!” I heard Kenny shout. And our team ran forward across the field, trying to get past the guys blocking us.
“Excuse me,” I said as I ran towards the car-eating guy in front of me. He reached out to grab me, but I slipped under his arms and ran past him. Easily. Like, really easily. The next thing I knew, I was in an open part of the field with no one around me. What was I supposed to do now?
“Crossover!” Kenny shouted.
I turned and saw the football coming straight for me. I winced, put my hands up, and waited for it to smack me in the face. But it didn’t. Surprisingly, it landed in my palms and I held it there in front of my chest. I caught it! I caught a football!
“Run!” Kenny screamed.
Oh, right. Catch the ball and run. I turned and everyone on the other team was suddenly rushing towards me from all sides. So I sprinted towards the opposite end of the field as fast as my little legs could carry me, which, apparently, was really fast. Guys tried to grab me from the left, but I ducked under their arms and kept going. Guys came from the right and I slipped under their arms too. I was breezing past everyone like they were moving in slow motion. I was the smallest kid on the field, but I was moving like Speedy Gonzales. I’d never moved this fast before in my life! It was crazy!
“Where you think you’re going?!” a deep voice roared nearby.
A huge guy came in from the left and got ready to dive at me. But before he could, one of my teammates jumped on him and tackled him to the ground.
“Go, crossover!” he cheered me on.
And I kept running, giggling as I went. Seconds later, I was sprinting through the endzone and my teammates were joining me, shoving me back and forth between them, and screaming in my ears.
“That’s what I’m talkin’ about, crossover!”
“Yo, you like the Flash, son!”
“They can’t touch you!”
Soon, Kenny caught up to me and patted me on the back. “Way to go, crossover.”
I laughed as I looked around at the guys cheering me on. This felt amazing. I was fast. I was athletic. And it came so naturally. My body was shaking with adrenaline and there was so much energy in me I felt like I could run around the world. I felt like a superhero. Was this how guys felt all the time?
I could get used to this. This was definitely a good day.