Dodging Dodgeball

Ernest Workman is the kid who always gets picked last for dodgeball. He looks like a sad seal hanging out with penguins every time he waits to be the L.C.D.- Least Common Denominator. I get math well enough to know that that probably doesn’t make sense. Also, I'm sorry for the 'that that'. I just learned about the 'abnormal accuracy' of the 'double that' in English class earlier today.

Actually, Ernest isn't too bad at dodgeball. He’s terrified of that red rubber beast and does his best to avoid it. But, he doesn’t fit the physical education mold, and, unfortunately, that's a factor. Miss Gruntles says I can start a sentence with a conjunction if I want to.

It’s 1:30pm on a Monday here at Trapton School, and we’re in gym class. Mr. Pie forgot to get out the equipment, so everyone is chatting.

“Sofia, I wish I had your wavy hair. No really, can I have it?” 

“Sure, Cindy, if I can have your perfectly aligned ears.” 

Cindy and I like to give each other weird compliments. My left ear is just a little higher than my right. No one notices until I tell them.

“Ok, campers, who’s ready to dodge a ball?" Mr. Pie calls us ‘campers’. "Same rules as always: nothing above the neck and no fast ones.”

“Mr. Pie, can we go to the peaceful protest corner?” Docile Lilybalm asked in her simpering tone. She always bats her eyes like someone just threw sand in them.

“Yes, Docile, you know that is always an option.”

The peaceful protest corner consists of hula hoops, jump ropes and a tv with old workout videos. Cindy and I toggle between dodging dodgeball and peaceful protest. In other words, we never play dodgeball.

“I’m captain again, right Mr. Pie?” Hap Standser always asks the same questions, just like Docile Lilybalm. I think it’s a status thing, and I really don't get it.

“Yeah, yeah sure, Hap. Go on and hit the line.”

Hap sprinted to his usual dodgeball position like he was getting paid for it.

Sally Struggles is the other go-to dodgeball captain. Her team loses because Hap is heartless about the picking. He picks his best friend, then lesser friends, then people he deems ‘ok enough’ and never anyone who look nothing like him. Hap would sooner pick his nose than Ernest Workman.

I don’t mean to dig too hard on Hap. He has a less than happy home life, but still. If you can’t be kind to Ernest, who can you be kind to? 

Mr. Pie noticed that Skip Adsly wasn’t sneaking peaks at his phone, so he walked over and put his hand on his shoulder.

“Adsly, why don’t you step in as 2nd captain this week?” 

“Ok, Coach.” was his simple reply. 

“Wow, Grandpa! Way to mix it up! Go get 'em, Skipster!” Eakin Stinkers screamed.

Most of the boys in class call Mr. Pie ‘Coach’, but Pie lets Eakin call him 'Grandpa'.

Skip stepped up to the blue dodgeball line. 

“Ok, Adsly, as a first-run captain, you get primary pick. Take your time if you need to.” Mr. Pie makes everything sound important.

Skip didn’t hesitate: “Ernest Workman.”

Workman’s face was an enigma of fear and joy. He looked down at his shoes. Then he shuffled over to Adsly’s side and handed him a flimsy high five.

The class broke into a mix bag of chatter in response to the upset. After letting us get it out, Mr. Pie blew the whistle.

"Alright, Hap. Your go."

"I choose: Bruce Lee Basherdon." Yes, his middle name is Lee. 

Bruce sauntered to the red line. He and Hap did about ten high fives. They then dropped to their knuckles like they were about to race in the Olympics. This cracked them up, so they started punching each other in the arm. 

Skip’s next choice was Sally Struggles. He handed her the ball and said, “I designate you: the starter.” There are no ‘starters’ in dodgeball, but Pie encourages ‘newly coined terms’ and ‘random game rules’ as long as they are ‘stated at the onset’. Sally took the ball. I’ve never seen her smile like that before.

Later on, in the peaceful protest corner, Cindy and I were bumbling through a workout video called, ‘Sweat Through the ‘80s’. We were finally to the ‘Sweat Less’ section, which meant a new song:

♫ Never gonna give you up.

Never gonna let you down.

Never gonna run around and desert you.

Never gonna make you cry.

Never gonna say goodbye.

Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you. ♫

“Oh my gosh, what is this one? I love it.” Cindy whispered in awe. 

“Me too. Let’s look it up later.” We’re music nerds.

The video ended, but there were still a few minutes left of class. Docile Lilybalm and her best friend, Mackenzie McAllister, were bored of hula hooping, so they headed our way.

“Oh goodie! Here comes the FBI.” Cindy said loud enough to be heard.

“Hey, rabies, oh, I mean ladies. Did you learn anything from the movie?” Mackenzie smirked sideways at Docile and elbowed her in the rib cage.

“Nothing that you couldn’t have taught us, Mac. I mean, from what I know you know everything and have something to say about it all.” Cindy said this with a curtsy in her voice, just to layer the confusion.

Mackenzie almost made a pleasant expression, but then she scowled.

“Cindy, your mom called. She wants her wig back.” 

Saysmore never dodges a verbal spar. The words flew out of her mouth like bees from a hive being treated like a piñata.

“How did my mom get your number, Kenzie? That's so exciting! Will you be coming over for poker night with her friends? Do you want to bring a casserole to the party? Do you think you’ll be the best at Texas Hold'em? I mean, you’re so good at everything and all. Maybe you should go stuff a duffle bag and stay the night. Does that sound like fun?” 

Cindy is more qualified for the FBI than Docile and Mac.

She has beautiful bouncy blonde hair, and the whole class found out that she secretly hates it. This information automatically uploaded to Mackenzie’s verbal arsenal, hence, the wig comment. I think McAllister might be a psychopathic humadroid wrapped in skin but made up of wires. 

“Ok, campers, the bell is about to ring. Everyone huddle up.” Mr. Pie loves a good rap session. Mackenzie looked relieved, maybe even slightly almost human.

“Anybody learn anything new today?" Pie's hands were planted on his hips. "Insights? Skills? Annoyances?"

Ernest Workman raised his hand. No one raised their hand in gym class.

“Uh, well,” Ernest glanced over at Skip then back at his shoes. “I just think,” Workman took a deep breath then addressed Mr. Pie directly, “I have a new appreciation for the word ‘sportsmanship’, Coach.”

Pie walked over to Skip and put his arm over his shoulder.

“One of my favorite words, Ernest.”

The bell rang.