Word Count; 2841
Warning; OK there's cussing you get the idea
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The school week finally passed, Friday greeting the exhausted teenagers with open arms on a surprisingly sunny day. School however was not completely out for the weekend, as there was barely two periods left, the bell just now ringing and bringing them closer to freedom. Arin ducked out of class, rubbing his eyes to try and remove the sleepiness that clung to his brain after nearly an hour of slides and note taking. All he had was PE left, and then he could go home and ignore his responsibilities as a basic human being.
He drug himself down the hall, both exasperated yet dreading his inevitable fate. He wasn't really athletically gifted, but the problem was elsewhere. It was just...so awkward in the locker room and he would rather drop dead then go up against the super competitive kids. There always seemed to be a bloody nose or black eye at the end of an unfortunate session
It took him around 4 minutes of stalling to confront the ugly blue doors of the gym, shifting awkwardly outside them. People happily went in with pained smiles, pushing Arin aside gently. He thought of them as sweet features that showed that they were just as self loathing and anxious as he was. It was really the only logical explanation, otherwise he would be rammed through the door and or called a loser.
With a heavy sigh, he pushed the doors open and frowned at the somewhat filled gym. Some kids had a sort of uniform on, while others relied on their normal clothes and somehow trusted that they wouldn't end up filthy by the end of class. The bleachers were pushed out, allowing people to either sit on the basketball court or the hard wooden rows.
Arin did a sort of fast walk along the bottom of the bleachers, shouldering his bag and keeping his gaze down. Something about sports or any sport related activity filed his self esteem down considerably, but also made him twice as irritable. He was much more likely to pick a fight after being hit with a football then a calculus book.
He made it across the hard, polished woods floor of the gym with only a few half-lidded glances from his fellows classmates. He slipped inside the vandalised door, the men's plaque sporting a half draw dingle as it barely hung from the cold metal.
The men's locker room was always the three S's; Steamy, Stank and Super uncomfortable. For those who were comfortable in their own skin, or very gay, they straight up got dressed out in the open. Everyone else was hiding in a bathroom stall or a makeshift changing room that consisted of a poorly made towel curtain. Arin dumped his backpack in the nearest open locker and prayed to God that someone would steal his mountain of homework while he was beaten to a pulp.
As for him changing, he rolled up his hoodie sleeves and tied his shoes extra tight in case something might go wrong. As for everything else, he trusted that his old jeans wouldn't tear under pressure or that his shirt wouldn't get stained through the thicker fabric of the hoodie. His loose hair fell in his face as he passed through space and time to get to the door and leave the gross yet glorified outhouse around him.
The once dirty and stale gym air was now refreshing despite the fact he was in the locker room for less than 7 minutes. More students had arrived, doing awkward stretches and trying to act cool after they fumbled and caught themselves. He sat by himself at the very end of the right side of the bleachers and tried his best to avoid everyone.
The gym teacher had already announced class, but was having a hard time controlling his herd of tired, rowdy teens. He pulled his ear piercing whistle closer to his face in a threatening manner after yelling failed. Everyone immediately moved closer and behaved, fearing the small metal object's ear bleeding shriek. Some from home economics had mild PTSD already.
