You Are the Shell to My Tortoise | ✓

2

"It's too early for gym," Ashley groaned, wiping the yawn-tears from her eyes for the fifth time in the last ten minutes. "Why couldn't we have it in the afternoon?"

"Tell that to Melissa," I said, pointing to her faraway figure on the running track. "She's already doing pre-class warmups."

Gym was pretty much the only class Melissa never had trouble with. Her track times were the fastest among all the girls in our grade, and she was always eager to do whatever activity our teacher had planned. Incidentally, her favorite teacher (apart from Mr. Jameson) was Mr. Robinson, our gym teacher.

Ashley sighed, looking a little envious. "All that napping she does in class is to conserve energy for gym class, didn't you know? I wish I liked physical exercise as much."

"Same," I said, finishing up tying my shoelaces.

A loud whistle pierced through the air.

Mr. Robinson lowered his whistle and called, "Alright, everyone! Before we start, let me do a quick head count. Gather around here, please, and stop moving around!"

Melissa practically sprinted over, and I couldn't help but smile at her enthusiasm.

Once Mr. Robinson finished, a frown settled upon his face. "We're one short today."

"We're always one short in gym," I whispered to Ashley. "I don't understand why he has to do this every single class; he should know already who's skipping."

"It's Nolan, Mr. Robinson," Claire, one of our classmates, said, looking like she was completely over this topic. "He's probably skipping gym again today."

"Like he always does," I heard someone else mutter.

"Well, that's just not right," Mr. Robinson said, shaking his head. "Could someone go and fetch him please?"

I stared in disbelief—and I wasn't the only one among our classmates. He had to be kidding us. He always tried to get one of us to go find him and bring him to class, but usually nobody knew where he went after the previous period ended. The searches always ended in failure, and only amounted to a giant waste of time.

"I don't think any of us knows where he is—" Claire tried, only to be cut off by another classmate.

"I saw him heading in the direction of the darkroom just now," Jordan said, oblivious to the sharp glares of everyone around him.

"Great!" Mr. Robinson looked relieved. "Please go and get him for me."

Alarm crossed his face, as if he had just realized what he had done. "Oh no, I couldn't—maybe you should get someone else—"

You dug your own grave, mister!

"Well, could anyone who's close to him please go?" Mr. Robinson said, checking his watch. "I really want to get started as soon as possible."

"Nobody's close to him," Melissa whispered to me, looking appalled by Mr. Robinson's assumption.

"Say, Chelsea, why don't you go?" another one of our classmates, Sheila, spoke up. "You're the one who always wakes him up in class, after all."

"Excuse me?" I barely squeaked out the words.

How did I have anything to do with this?

"Yeah, I'm sure you're used to it!" Cheryl, another classmate, said in a chirpy voice, as if by saying it in a positive tone I would be more inclined to the idea. "And I'm sure he would appreciate it much more if you went instead of any of us since he's more used to you."