Pete regretted messing with the jocks. He didn't think that when he woke up for school today. He didn't think that at lunch but he regretted it now.

He was in gym class, the kingdom for jocks. Dodgeball wasn't his forte either so he had to prepare for the rain of red dodgeballs hitting him.

Damon grabbed one before throwing it hard at Pete's head. He could hear the smack and the sting of the ball hitting his face. He fell back before Coach Burton barked at him to go sit down.

He sat and remembered why he shouldn't have messed with them. It happened Saturday, he was at the carnival with Jimmy. He was watching Jimmy play a shooting games before Damon walked up.

He felt nervous because well, he was the shortest kid his age. He cowered slightly before Damon had asked him, "hey, Kowalski, where's Melvin?" He knew why he would ask. Pete never belonged to a clique except he was close enough to be considered a nerd. His friends were mostly nerds and the nerds did the jock's homework. It was as simple as that.

"I don't know." Pete sipped his root beer and looked up at the jock. He seemed more terrifying when it was darker out.
"Come on, I have a paper that needs writing, tell me, twerp." Pete couldn't lie, he was scared shitless. He felt like if Jimmy wasn't there, he would've been stomped on.

"I'm telling you, I don't know, leave me alone, bastard." Pete was annoyed and under the protection of Jimmy, he could say it.
Damon laughed, rolling his eyes,
"Bastard, you think you're so smart?"
"I mean, you are technically a bastard, born out of wedlock."

He hit a spot, he knew it. The look of hurt that was revealed on the guy's face was awful. He wish he could take it back, he looked down. Pete knew that apologizing would make him seem worse but he had to.

"Look, I'm sor-"
He walked away, tall and angry. Jimmy won the tickets and turned to Pete. He raised a brow, glancing at Damon.
"What was that about?"

Currently, the jocks were beating the shit out of him with dodgeballs. He felt a black eye start to develop on his eyelid. His fingers slowly went to touch the sore spot before he winced. He watched the rest of the game with one eye.

Burton whistled and barked, "hit the showers!" He quickly scurried to the locker room. He wanted to get dressed before Damon decided to use Pete as a person punching bag. He didn't want that to be his fate.

He removed his sweaty shirt and shorts, feeling vulnerable. He quickly threw on the pink undershirt and squirmed inside his blue vest. He pulled on the slacks before a jock decided to twist the towel and whip him with it.

It wasn't original but it still hurt nonetheless. He cried out and turned around quickly, covering his bare legs.
"Quit it!" He yelled at Dan, his voice cracked and the jocks laughed.
He turned to grab his pants out of the locker but it seemed that Kirby Olsen had already gotten to them before him.

He hated how real it felt. The chuckles from the jocks felt real and the scent of cologne felt real. He was dying of embarrassment and he didn't know how to react. He was stuck on the floor, staring at Kirby but not saying anything.

"Come on, fag, do something." Damon pushed him and he was about to cry. He hated the fact that his eyes were tearing up.
"I.." He started to say but felt breathless. He was angry, biting inside his cheek.
Suddenly, the pants were snatched from Kirby's hands.

They turned to the figure who did the action and were surprised to see a greaser. A greaser with their messy uniform underneath a cool black leather jacket, with freckles lining their cheeks and red copper hair in smooth pompadour.

Pete's rigid stance relaxed as the boy tossed his slacks. He turned to Damon,
"Leave the kid alone, he's stupid but he means well."
Ouch.. Pete was grateful that he was rescued from what could've been an embarrassing moment.

The jocks grew uninterested and left Pete. Figures, they're meatheads, dumb. The boy stared at Pete, expecting something.
"I don't have money." Pete put on his slacks, avoiding the intense stare.
"I was expectin' 'thanks'."

Pete nodded and smiled weakly, sighing softly.
"Thanks, I don't know I would've done if you weren't there.."
The boy flashed a faint smile and shrugged. 
"Kowalski, Pete Kowalski.." He introduced with a slight chuckle. Pete's hand hung out for a handshake. The boy stared at his hand before hesitantly shaking it.

His hand was rough and calloused. He nodded and introduced his own name.
"Vance Medici, pleased to meet you."
His name almost made Pete laugh, it was funny.
"Well, I got a thing to do, I should go." Pete awkwardly pulled his hand away and pulled on his knapsack.

"Yeah, hey, you okay? You're gonna have a shiner." He pointed to the black eye that Pete almost forgot he had.
"It's okay, bye." He shook his head and left quickly. He hated himself for feeling nervous when he spoke to someone he liked.

He remembered how he wanted to impress Jimmy and he said the weirdest things, verbal vomit.
He returned back to the dorm and did his homework. He couldn't get the faint thought in the back of his brain about some red haired greaser saviour.