"Dodgeball."

My stomach was in knots reading that one word. Dodgeball is my second enemy, one of the worst enemies I have. Pair it up with an aggressive bunch of boys and BAM! You have now concocted the death of Zhang Yixing. I remember clearly the last time I played dodgeball, I had gotten pushed to the ground, and repeatedly got hit in the face, chest, and yes, the groin. These weren't some "sissy" throwers either, these were varsity shotput throwers, a long with some baseball pitchers. They come in packs, swarming around me while I lay on the ground motionless. "Dodgeball" to these guys doesn't mean the traditional kind, oh no, it means, even if you're out, we still hit you. The worse part is when the teacher intervines with this all, some people think it's a blessing to get saved by a teacher, but really, it's an excuse to stop hurting me now and saving it for later.

Not anticipating on what's going to become of me after this class, after all, they'll be "happy" to see me after a week's absence. Maybe this time I won't be as lucky as the last times, maybe I won't come out concious, I'm lucky enough to be still walking to second period afterwards. I could feel my stomach aching more as I walked into the gym. I could hear snickers here and there from both sides of me, whispers of, "Yixing isn't going to come out alive this time, teach him a lesson.." More and more threats come in as I sit down farther away from them all. Even though, giving myself space from them never lasts long, it never does.

"Hey, Yixing, get your over here!" Someone yelled.

See, I told you it never lasts. Hesitantly, I slowly began to get up, but then I found myself being dragged by my arm over to one team that had already been selected. It didn't look pretty to begin with, I had been chosen with half of the shotput throwers, even though they're on the same team, they'll make one slip of their hand and "accidently" hit me in, oh, how about the gut? Many, if I shouldn't say all the people in my gym class harrass me, every single one of them. To the most harmless, to the more severe cases. Whatever the type it was, it all resulted in myself getting hurt. The tow teams split up to their sides of the gym, and the game beings.

The first throw hit me in the chest, the usual spot. That didn't stop there, it was far from end. Multiple dodgeballs were whipped right towards my face and my head. They came in twos, then, fours, then eight, then probably twenty. They all covered it up by throwing some at other people, but that didn't matter. It was all directed at me, the main target, the chosen one, but in a negative way. Before I knew it, I was on the ground, in worse physically pain that had happened to me. One of the top shotput throwers chucked the ball hard enough to spin and for myself to end up in pain. I could see them give the guy hi-fives and complimenting how he "ended the great Yixing", that's when the teacher dashed in. He had helped me up, my body was shaking to the point wher I couldn't walk properly. He made me wait outside the gym, all I could hear was him raging at the throwers and had written them up. I knew it wasn't the last time I'd come into contact with these guys.

The teacher had sent me up to the nurses office, where I took my normal spot there, in one of those cot-like beds.I lay there, eyes shut tighlty, still shaking, but not as bad as before. I thought to myself that this episode will go around fast, it'll hit the daily headlines of everyone's conversation. "Did you hear what happened to Yixing? He got pummeled in gym, they didn't mess around with him.." Not the greatest way to get your five minutes of fame, seen as weak and broken, it's more like you've gotten your whole semester of fame, but for the wrong reason. I guess it all depends on who it happens to, obviously. Being branded as a small, frail, ugly animal is just as worse if there is an incidnet that involved you right on top of your shoulders.

My thoughts were soon interupted by a hand on my arm, my eyes botled open as I almost fell out of the cot, only to see Junmyeon was there. He looked more scared than I was on the inside, he went pale; white as snow. His hand felt warm and sweaty on my arm, he soon removed his hand, leaning over to ask what had happened. Apparently the nurse called him down, no explanation behind it, just come down to the nurse, quickly. He seemed out of breath; running down all of those stairs.

"What happened?" Junmyeon asked, in a sort of impatient tone, something I wasn't quite used to hear him speak in. My voice became softer when I tried to speak to him, he seemed displeased. Facing him, I let out a small sigh as I looked up at him, then releasing my gaze with him to stare at the floor. I felt his hand moved to my shoulder, while his other hand lightly pushed my head upwards to his view. His eyes seemed looked more frightened than displeased, his dark eyes told me what he was feeling, sending out a loud message that "Hey, Junmyeon is scared too."

"Dodgeball." I let out quietly. I could hear Junmyeon let a little gasp escape from his lips. He knew about the past incidents with gym and dodgeball, but never had seen me like this after any of them.

"Do you feel, any better, any worse?" He questioned. I nodded, truly I was feeling better, but just barely. A small headache had started, but everything else was just sore, not painful, it just was sore. A mix between feeling fine, and feeling pain, somewhere in the middle. I noticed I had stopped shaking as I lfted my hand, nothing was shaking anymore, it was all at ease for once. It seemed that Junmyeon had brought a long my books that I had left down in the locker room, including my uniform. Handing both over, he just simply told me if I felt any better, he'd wait and go to the next class with me. I grabbed my wrinkled uniform as I walked to the small bathroom and soon changed back out of my gym clothes. Walking out of the bathroom, Junmyeon stands up, and just looks at me, but then smiles and guides me to the door. First period was still in sessiom for about ten or fifthteen minutes, so the both of us ventured the quiet and barren hallways of the school. I reminded Junmyeon that he still had Biology class, but he insisted on staying and listening to what had happened, more than he wanted to learn about cell division.

"Are you sure you don't want to report this-" Junmyeon suggested, but I had cut him off. It wasn't as easy as he always had thought. Always telling me to "go tell a teacher", it would only result in nothing getting accomplished, really. It only ends up with a few guys having a referral, getting detention for a few days, then getting off the hook. A few of them had been expelled enough times, but they'd never learn. Those who had gotten expelled, minimized the harrassment down by a half as what they began doing. But more people fill their places, regenerating into more brutal predators then the last person was. Always in a never-ending cycle that grew worse every semester.

"No, it won't do anything, that's final." I said in a flat tone. He knows that certain question will always be a firm "no", but why keep on persisting it more and more? That's Junmyeon's way of thinking, persisting until the end. But not a harsh way of being persistant, more of a soft touch, to be quite frank. We only said a few things until the bell interupted a conversation we were about to have.

"Tell me when we have a break in math class, yeah?" Junmyeon said as he and I walked up the staris. Answering in a nod, we head up to second period, one of the more tame classes I have. In math, I get harrassed, but not to my face, rather, behind my back. But I guess it's better than getting hit in the groin with a dodgeball with great force applied to it.

Math it is, math it is.