Date: Tue, 25 Dec 2001 00:25:10 EST
From: SammySagitarius@aol.com
Subject: of my own: Soccer Locker 3

"Brandon. I don't want this on my team. Either you never speak to that faggot
again, or you're off of this team..."

Brandon had shot around and was looking to the coach.

I panicked and just started walking towards the exit. I opened the big metal
door. Brandon's voice was the last voice I heard before I closed the door.

"It won't happen again, sir..."

The metal door clanked. I was crushed...

The next day, I passed him in the hallway. He started to walk up to me, but I
looked at him and turned my head. He stopped, sad thoughts running through
his mind. He abruptly turned and walked swiftly away. I watched his form
disappear into the blur of people walking through the hallway. I opened my
locker, took out my World Civ. book, and headed to the class. I sat down in
my seat, which was in the back. David was playing with the dry-erase markers.
Kevin was trying to sniff one of them. Idiots, I thought. If ignorance is
bliss, does that not mean that happiness is for the stupid? I was still in
turmoil over Brandon. I couldn't believe he'd had the guts to attempt to
speak to me. I looked up to see hanna walk in. She is a gorgeous female. I'm
attracted to her, I'll admit. Perfect legs, which she casually reveals in her
sexy skirts. She has wonderful breats, that look simply beautiful through her
collared shirts (dress code... yech). Her face and eyes... mesmerizingly
grey-blue eyes. She's very sexy, with her long sandy blonde hair. Not a curl
in it. Straight and soft to the skin. She's an amzingly witty and attractive
person. A please to have as a friend. She's firtacious, but only to get them
to smile. That's why I hang by her... to see the guys smile.

Matt H. walked in soon after she sat down and said hello to me. He was
wearing jeans, but a white collared shirt. I could see his tanned, Puerto
Rican arms. His mother is Puerto Rican, I'm guessing his dad is white. He is
simply gorgeous... and on the soccer team.

Brandon had gotten more guts. He followed Matt in the room and walked to my
desk. I couldn't believe him. People knew we didn't converse, some even
thought I hated him. I set that up to avoid people guessing my obsession. He
walked in, gave me a note and said, "It's from Jennifer..." He looked around,
and walked off. He had that hole that wears out by the back pockets in his
jeans. I unhesitantly observed. People would never guess what I was looking
at, anyhow. He had on blue boxers... no pattern as far as I could tell. I
opened the note slightly. It was not from Jennifer. It was from him. I could
make out the first line:

"It would be best for both of us if nobody knew about our moment in..." I
crupled the paper, and threw it into the trash can. "You fuckin' bitch!" I
screamed at the paper. The class was staring. My teacher, Mr. East, walked
into the room from the hallway. You need a morning detention, he asked me. I
couldn't really hear him, though. I pushed past him, and walked towards the
boy's room. That was a dumb moment for me. One I haven't forgotten. When that
class was over, Matt picked up the crinkled note from the trash can... he
read it when he got home that day. The next morning, he was standing at my
locker when I got there. I saw that he was holding the note. He looked up at
me, and I saw the question in his eyes. It took me a moment to notice Brandon
was standing beside him.

"You just threw my note away?" Brandon pondered to me.

Matt turned his gaze from Brandon to me. "Can I ask you a few things?" His
tone was deceptive. I said, "Sure..."

***

Oooh, the plot thickens. Not much to jack to, I know. But wasn't it
interesting? Don't worry, you'll get your jollies in Soccer Locker 4...