You mean this with every fiber of your being. You mean this, with the burning fiery passion that comes from the depths of your heart. With every thought in your mind dedicated to it, a single honest meaning. The very being of who you are, your entire life purpose.

Fuck the pacer.

No really, screw it. This is terrible. As bad as it is to have Physical Education as your first class? It's like Satan is whispering in your ear, bringing those crusty red lips to your face and muttering those words with that wicked grin.

"The Fitnessgram Pacer Test is a multi stage capacity test that progressively gets more difficult as it continues." You're dreading this, with every single fiber of your being. Nobody has even started, and everybody can all mentally come to an agreement that this sucks. No matter what type of family you come from, if you're here on a scholarship or just here because your family is rich.

Usually physical tests like this don't take place until  couple days into the school year. But this is a different school, and everybody got their uniforms and textbooks weeks in advance. You included, so nobody could use the excuse of not having their gym uniform. And since you came into class late? The teacher did yell at you a bit, he's one of those P.E teachers that was probably a drill sergeant recently. At least he wasn't three times his own weight and eating fast food while lecturing the class on dietary health. You've had gym teachers like that, and it never made sense to you.

The words were drilling into your mind, you hate this. Just as much as everybody else. Why? Because you weren't a runner. You were better at other forms of work out, just not running. You get winded easily, and your legs get sore for a longer amount of time than any other part of your body. You could probably do lots of sit ups and not feel that much of a burn compared to your legs. Sure, you can stand for a long time. A really long time, but that's because of the fencing. You move around a lot, you can run fast. Just not for very long. The pacer starts out slow, yes. But once it starts speeding up? IT start to overwhelm you a bit, and that's when you start to fall behind.

The gym uniforms were just a white T-shirt with the school name in the middle in dark blue writing, and blue basketball shorts and some sneakers. So they were easy to run and move around in.

Almost right before the actual pacer started, one last student came sprinting out of the boys locker room after handing off a green late slip that clearly read 'Library' on it in red ink. You narrowed your eyes on the figure, it's that boy again.

So he got to some in late and not get yelled at, but you did?

"On your mark, get set, start." You were too busy looking somewhere else, so you got a bit of a late start. Whereas everybody could walk the first pace, you had to jog slightly to catch up. No big deal, once you got to the other end of the line you still had a second to actually get ready. Somehow that other kid who came in late? Yeah, he was the first one on the other side, and he walked.

That mind boring music and dull tone of the music played loudly through the air as the test continued, everybody still able to just walk the next pace as the audio called out "One." Right after a ding.

Ding. "Two."

Ding. "Three."

Ding. "Four."

Ding. "Five."

This was simple, just walking. But after five it became a slight jog, and then ten through fifteen turned into a sprint. Fifteen through twenty was a faster sprint, Twenty through thirty was a steady run. After that? Just run faster.

You dropped out at forty four, laying down spread eagle style along with four other classmates that had dropped out long before. You hated running.

Ding. "Seventy eight."

Ding." Seventy nine."

Ding. "Eighty."

Ding. "Eight one."

Ding. "Eighty two."

Ding." Eighty three, end of level nine."

Only about twelve students were left, some of them you've seen around on other parts of campus already. But the boy you saw earlier? He was still getting to the other line before everybody else.

He doesn't even look like he's bothered by this, there's maybe two other students that aren't even sweating. Him being one of them. Sure, they might just be on the track team or something. They might just run cross country, or something.

You still sat up against a blue bleacher, holding a water bottle in your hand that had been given to you by a classmate after she passed around a basket filled to the brim of them. They were cold, and that was great.

Now, after the marker got past 150? That's when there were only three students left, and all of them but one looked completely wiped out.

There was always that one kid at the end who tried to outdo everyone, and that kid? She was panting while running, turning around instantly the moment that she got to the other end of the line. Her calves were shaking, they were stone tense, and she had sweat running down her face and back. Her hair was sticking to her face, and she looked like she really needed one of those water bottles.

She dropped out at 168, and all the while the dinging and the listing of numbers continued? That boy from earlier this morning was still going, without problem. Sure, he was sweating now. And he looked more focused to actually make it on time rather than just barely make it.

Ding.

Ding.

Ding.

Ding.

Ding ding.

Ding ding ding.

Ding.

You were losing count by now, but when the test came to a stop? He was only now looking a little bit like the girl who dropped out before him. And what number did the test end at?

247. Level 21.

And he could have still gone on. As far as first impressions go? You're sure he's got it in the bag for everyone, except you. Because his first impression with you wasn't like this. Though you weren't aware of this, seeing him out in the courtyard wasn't even his first impression on you.

But until then, him accusing you of skipping your class on the first day of school as a new student is going to be what enters your mind every time you think of this guy. Hell, you don't even know his name. Part of you wants to go over to him and find out, but apart of you just wants to leave him be because it doesn't really matter.

Looking at his body and judging his physical body stature, he definitely had the muscle to go through with all that. And he's new here too? What school did he go to beforehand, jeez.

Better question, though. What type of sport does he do to keep himself like that? It's impressive, and slightly threatening.

"Everybody get a partner, we're going to begin the push up section." The P.E teacher said, pulling out a few large grey matts that didn't look like they were all that comfortable. But you guess it's still better than laying down on the wooden basketball court floor. Not by much, but it's still better than nothing.

While everyone gathered up and went to their friends, you still stood there in silence while everybody partnered up. Some girls instantly went over to that one guy, and the look on his face was nothing but stern confusion. But eventually the two girls that went over to him in an attempt to partner up with him ended up finding another partner.

So you stood there with your right hand attached to your left arm, bending one of your knees and biting down in your lower lip in thought. All the while everybody and their partner were situating themselves down and on their grey matts. One partner in their back with bent knees pointed to the ceiling. And the other partner sitting on their knees and holding their ankles down.

You raised your hand a little bit in confusion, only so the teacher could sigh and make a hand motion for you to come over to the front of the room.

"Does anybody else not have a partner?"

Everybody else had partners, so the teacher ended up telling you that you had permission to do it yourself. Some first day, right? Social anxiety to the max, and you thought public high school would be hard. An Actual Academy? Harder.