Unknown

Keith

P.E. is hell.

Which isn't to say that Keith's not good at it. He's a social outcast, but he's also an athlete of sorts, and he can upstage most of the douchebag jocks in his class with ease. His gym teacher loves trying to drag him into every example she can, which would be great if it wasn't so absolutely terrible. Not to mention he's made an accidental enemy of at least three people on the football team by absolutely crushingthem in soccer and basketball.

Today they're doing volleyball drills, which is great because Keith is actually pretty bad at volleyball, so he doesn't have to worry about challenging anyone's status as alpha-jock. The net is too high for him, and there are too many things to be aware of for him to be able to rely on instinct alone.

"Come on, Keith!" Coach Brooks yells as he fails to spike the ball over the net. "You can do better than that!"

Keith sighs, pushes his hair away from his face, and ducks under the net, grabbing his ball from the floor and going to join the line on the other side.

They just started their second volleyball unit of the year today, and Coach Brooks has decided to let Lance Fuentes, self-proclaimed god of volleyball, lead them in his favorite drills for extra credit. The spike drill that he's doing now requires him to hand the ball off to either Brooks or Lance, let them toss it in the air right in front of the net, and try to spike it into the ground on the opposite side. Then he joins the other line and does it again.

Hunk, three people in front of him, hands the ball over to Lance with a quick joke that makes him laugh. Keith distracts himself by running his fingers along the torn seam of his ball, waiting until he hears the sound of a ball hitting the floor before looking up again.

"Perfect, Hunk!" Lance yells from his spot right beside the net, high-fiving Hunk with a slapping sound that seems like it would sting. "Everyone, try to keep up with this man. That's right, you can't!"

Hunk's face is red. "Jeez, Lance, you don't have to do that," he says, rubbing his neck sheepishly.

"Too bad. That's what you get for being friends with me," Lance replies, smirking as his friend ducks under the net. "Next!"

Another sophomore tosses their ball to Lance, who nods at them to start. One step, two, and he tosses the ball into the air. "Nice!" Lance yells as it hits the floor on the other side with enough force to knock someone out. The sophomore grins and accepts his high-five.

Keith drums his fingers nervously as the next two people spike or fail and head to the other line. He considers faking an injury, but knows that he's far too deep into the period to do that. Maybe he could pretend to fall down and twist his ankle--

"Keith! Are you ready?"

Keith snaps back to attention. "Um, yeah," he says, tossing his volleyball to Lance, who catches it with ease. His long fingers almost surround the ball like a cage, whereas Keith's short ones have trouble keeping hold of it.

"Come on, man, you can do this! I believe in you!"

Lance tosses the ball from hand to hand, waiting. Keith sighs, takes a deep breath, and steps towards the net.

The sequence is supposed to go like this: take one step forward, then another, then keep your feet together and jump and hit the ball over to the other side without actually touching the net. What actually happens is more like step, run, hit the ball into the net, and then remember that you're supposed to jump. Keith watches his ball roll across the court and hopes his body fails and he goes into a coma, right then and there.