Peter had gotten trapped when someone pushed his jacket off of the bench and under the bleachers. He probably should have left the crappy blue corduroy thing down there for the mice to gnaw on, but jackets, as his mom was fond of saying, didn’t grow on trees. He had tried to imagine a jacket tree with a great deal of success, but it, like most things in his imagination, remained firmly entrenched in the ether. So down he went.
He wasn’t really trapped, making his way out wouldn’t be impossible. All that blocked his way were his classmates’ bodies and more importantly a screen of jeers. “Freak!” “Weirdo!” “Stupid fucker!” and other taunts pelted him like verbal garbage. That most of the assault came from girls, made it even more of a challenge. He’d been taught from a young age that a girl’s body was sacrosanct. You weren’t to touch them without permission and hitting them was right out. The insults really didn’t even hurt any more. Where once he would have felt shame or fear, there was now only annoyance and a rising anger. With each passing minute he came closer and closer to the breaking point. What that meant, he wasn’t quite sure. This time around though, he was saved by a whistle.
Coach Tim’s black plastic medallion chased the students off their seats. “Alright you slackers, get to your classes.” As the thundering herd obeyed the order, the only one they were likely to listen to all day, Peter could hear the coach’s final words intended for the middle aged man’s ears alone. “If you worked like you should you wouldn’t have such fat asses.”
Peter watched as Tim chuckled at his own doggerel. He could imagine the adult practicing that wit in his head, waiting for the right moment to unleash it. That thought instantly made Peter feel only half as pitiful as he had moments before. With some effort he climbed out of his wooden prison.
“Shelton? What the hell were you doin’ down there?” Tim pushed his ball cap back and scratched at thinning hair. “Never mind. You get on to class too.”
Peter wasted no time in doing as he was told. His English class had library time today, which meant he could indulge in the only freedom he knew, the kind that came between the covers of a book.
