Page 24 of S.O.S. Perk

By the end of his fourth period class, Perk’s head was spinning. What kind of joke was Agent Baskins pulling on him, setting him up with such a packed and stacked schedule? After Algebra, he’d had AP Biology, followed by AP Literature, then World History. Not a light load, for sure.

At least his afternoon would be easier. He had study periods on either side of lunch on the days he didn’t have gym. And after that he had art alternating with a robotics course, then finally, auto shop.

He guessed the FBI had wanted him to mingle with all types of kids; those who were the best and brightest, those who were main-stream students, and those less motivated who filled theirschedules with electives they’d be able to pass; or easy-A’s as the kids would say.

As luck would have it, today was a gym day, and Perk was glad he’d packed some work-out duds. He entered the boys’ locker room and headed to one of the curtained stalls. The changing/showering areas were separated by sex, but the classes were coed, which was good. The more diverse, the better. Perk hoped he’d be able to make inroads into the student body, here. So far, his interaction with his fellow classmates had been largely focused on lessons. But the gym, Perk remembered, was often where lines were drawn between those who arrogantly flexed their power-muscles, and those who stood back and followed orders.

He needed to be part of the former group, and would certainly have to prove himself so that after today, he wouldn’t be bunched with the latter.

As he pulled his clothes on, he sighed. The muscles in his legs couldn’t be disguised with the shorts he’d need to wear, but hopefully his arm and chest girth wouldn’t be too apparent with the loose, long-sleeved T he’d chosen.

The gym teacher was an unknown for Perk, the instructor having been busy when Ms. P had brought Perk around, but he was surprised to see a very fit, but obviously gay male—if the flamboyantly colored outfit was any indication—with a whistle around his neck. That was a far more progressive situation thanhe’dever witnessed in high school. for sure.

“Hello,” the man said, coming over to Perk and sticking his hand out for a shake. “I’m Coach Cashman, and you’re the new kid, Thomas, am I right?”

Ms. P must have sent him a memo.

“Yeah,” Perk allowed, and took the shake, but only perfunctorily because he was an aloof teen, after all.

“Excellent. If you have any questions or concerns, please let me know. But in the meantime, you can line up with the rest of the students for some calisthenics.”

Perk took a spot between two nasty-looking brutes who had each given him evil grins as he’d entered. He head-dipped, and they didn’t return the gesture.

Now he was getting somewhere.

Everyone before this had been almost painfully nice to him, and Perk had started wondering if the entire school was rainbows and unicorns. His two current companions put an end to that speculation as one of them turned and farted loudly in Perk’s direction.

Nice.

“Mr. Higgins,” the coach chastised with a clicking of his tongue. “That was entirely inappropriate. This is your only warning. Any more of those shenanigans and you’ll be doing laps after school, you understand?”

“Yeah, Coach,” Higgins answered with a sneer, but he fell back into line. Clearly Coach Cashman wasn’t a pushover.

The class spent the next ten minutes with warm-ups that didn’t have Perk shedding a drop of sweat. The two to either side of him seem to be on par with that, while a few of the smaller participants grunted and groaned like it was the hardest physical thing they’d ever accomplished.

“When do we get to something interesting?” Perk dared ask Higgins out of the side of his mouth. He got sent a nasty, full-toothed sneer back; one that was disgustingly fuzzy. Did the guy not know what toothpaste was?

“Dodgeball today,” Higgins continued to grin malevolently. He looked around Perk toward goon number two. “What do you think, Thorpe? Can the new guy keep up?”

“We’ll find out,” Thorpe growled with a dark kind of pleasure.

Phht.If the idiots were trying to intimidate him, they’d have to come up with more than dodgeball taunts.

“Try me,” Perk dared with a raised brow and a vicious smile in return.

The pair looked pumped.

Game on.

Being the new guy, he was picked last by the team that was filled with nerds. Which was fine with Perk. Little did they know he was about to help them—the unsuspectingly-downtrodden—win the day.

As he figured would happen, once the ball-throwing began, a small group of assholes obviously led by Higgins and Thorpe, targeted him.

But Perk was in his element.

He spun, he danced, he collected balls two at a time and sent them back toward his adversaries, whipping them with such speed and precision that his aggressors began dropping, one by one. His success spurred Perk’s team on to whoop it up, actually daring to become proactive instead of cowering in the shadows.

Purposely, Perk picked off everyone in Higgins and Thorpe’s little group but them, letting the weaker players on Perk’s team take care of the lesser threats until the only ones left on the opposing side were the pair who now looked…pissed? Worried? It was hard to tell, since their faces were set in ugly grimaces.

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