Whoo, school. What-a-blast.

I'm in PE with Steven Gordon of dreadlocks fame. In that class we haven't done anything all week but sit for hours on the gym bleachers. Literally. Nothing.

We've all established our own places on the stands, our turf as it were. There are these REALLY COOL guys who sit behind us who are just about the coolest, most badass freshman muthafucka's ever to dominate scripps, who are SO COOL that their vocabularies are developed to a first grade level! Well, they started throwing pieces of paper at Steven and I, which was sad, because we were so eager to be accepted into their inner circle and become cool like them. Then, to rub salt in our wounds, they asked Steven if I was his boyfriend.

"Yeah. He's my boyfriend. We go out."

They laughed amongst themselves, swore.

"No, seriously. We're gay."

Laughter dwindles, they are confused. One of them looks upset.

"Kiss him then."

"No, it's against school rules," I say. "No expressing personal signs of affection. Didn't you read the student handbook?"

"Shit, they're like fags and shit. Hey, why don't you go have sex in the bathroom, gay guys! You're all gay 'n' shit," offers the one with the unibrow.

Even when they find out we're not actually gay (Holy hell! Whod've thought!) they won't let it die.

I wish I were as cool as they are.