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This story is 90% true (you always have to add things in for smooth transition, right?). The names have been changed to protect the guilty. I like a good plot instead of "slam-bam-thank you-Sam" stories, so save yourself' for the good' parts.
The Unpopular Kid
By Jack Robertson Jackro5@hotmail.com
One more year. I couldn't believe it. Only twelve years before, I started going to this school when I entered kindergarten, and now I would be entering my senior year as a Sullivan Christian Academy Falcon. I was extremely happy; elated is probably a better word to use here. Either way, I only had one more year left and I was ready to get it over with. But that is not where the story starts, at least the beginning doesn't start here.
If there was a person to blame, I guess I could blame it on my ninth grade PE coach. This coach was also the assistant football coach. I wasn't the most athletic kid; in fact, I hated sports. Probably not because I didn't like the game, but because I couldn't play it well. I wasn't fat, but I was overweight. It still shows today. I was also more scholastically inclined. At that age, you didn't see me without a book stuck in my face, walking around and managing not to run into anything or anybody. But there was something else. I was gay. I didn't care about sex or anything like it, but I knew that when I did start to get active, it would be with a guy.
Anyway, my coach told me to stay after PE to talk with him for a bit. I figured that I would get picked on by yet another superior sport loving being like the rest of my classmates who often ridiculed me for `sucking it up.' But I was wrong. Coach needed me to do him a favor. The man who does the football stats for the team was leaving after this year because his son was graduating. He needed somebody to train so they could take over when he left. I didn't want to do it until I thought of the up side: I got to travel with the team, dress with the team, shower with the team, and watch the team while they joked around in the locker room. I agreed to take the position, and I continued doing it until I graduated, and that is where the story really takes off.
During the years after accepting the position of statistician, I began to gain the respect of my fellow classmates, young and old. I got more active in school functions and I helped out in any way that I could. Because I was such a whiz at computers, the office called me out off class to work on their computers more times than the school asshole was called in for doing his normal routine. I was in charge of setting up the sound system at all events like pep rallies and after school functions like graduation and plays. I became such a handy man that they school rewarded me with a $125 check as a thank you, and the student body decided that I would be their next Student Body President. They also made me promise that I could find a replacement for everything that I did. So the search began for someone as fulfilling as I was. (Trust me, I am not really that conceded.)
During my last few weeks of my junior year, I kept my eyes and ears open for some young kid in the 7th or 8th grade that would be interested in helping me out. More than that, I wanted some unpopular, nerdy, nose in a book kid that I could help mold into what I now was. I found that in Justin Greenwood. This kid was in 7th grade, about 5'1" tall, had a head full of red hair that he didn't bother to keep in the current fashion, always had his face in a book, absolutely hated sports, and was considered gay by his classmates because of his lack of interest in girls. Sound familiar? Except for the red hair, this kid was exactly like I was in the 7th grade. Now I had to convince him to help me out the next year.
It took a lot of pleading, but he finally gave in after I promised him that he could quit after the first game if he didn't like it. That summer in between my junior and senior year, I created a new version of my football spreadsheet and gave it to him so that he could get accustomed to it. We were all set for that fall and I could hardly wait.
From the time that I saw him that summer, I could definitely feel some homo-like vibes coming from this kid. I made a promise to myself that I would be completely professional in my work, unless he started something. I still remember the face of disbelief that he made when he walked into the locker room the afternoon of the first game and saw the star quarterback strutting around butt-naked with his cock at half-mast. And if it weren't for me holding him by the arm, he would have bolted from the room when the same quarterback turned to him and started stroking himself and asked if Justin liked what he saw. He calmed down a little when I explained to him that it was just a little jock humor and that it came along with the job.
Things went well that first game. He actually got into it. The game must have made a little impact, because Justin decided that he wanted to stay on the team.
After everything from the game was recorded in the proper forms, the papers were notified of our first victory of the season, we called our parents were called to say that we were on our way back to the school. Justin and I loaded up in the Sheriff's Office van that was used to escort our bus back to good old Sullivan Christian. Our school is really small. One campus held all grades from Preschool to the 12th grade with about 700 kids in the entire school. Our football team is about thirty cocks strong and fit on one regular school sized bus. A 70-year-old sheriff deputy who loves football games drives the van. He totes the managers and some equipment to the away games.
Justin and I climbed to the back seat of the van. I stood up for my new protege on the way to the game when some of the other managers his age decided that they much better deserved the seat over the "red headed freak fag." I quickly put them in their places by telling them that if they didn't shut up, I was going to turn them into fags by making them suck my cock. Justin's face turned as red as his hair, but he really appreciated it and seemed to get along with me better on the way home.
It seemed like hours had passed by as I awoke in the van. The sky was pitch black and the only sound was coming from the engine of the Dodge Ram prisoner transport and the occasional static on the police radio. About thirty minutes into the way home, after the managers got over their giggle fits from farting and talking about crap, everyone managed to fall asleep, including me. When I woke up, I felt a weight on my shoulder and was about to toss it aside without thinking when I realized what it was. Justin, during his sleep, managed to situate his head on my shoulder. I sunk lower in my seat to keep his neck from getting a crick, and I fell back to sleep.
I know it's not much, but there is the first installment of what could be a new series. If you think this has any merit at all, send me some e-mail at jackro5@hotmail.com. Any comments or criticism is accepted, even flames. Maybe I can educate you in the ways of the penis.LOL.