“Alright, gather around!” Mr. Bevins shouted, his voice echoing around the gym. Along with everyone else, Fletcher ran over and waited for the day’s instructions. As Mr. Bevins scanned the class, he scowled. “I had wanted to start football today.” He grumbled. “But the weather didn’t feel like cooperating.”

Fletcher glanced at the door on the far side of the gym. Through the windows set into it, he could see that it had started to rain. It was raining too hard to even think about playing outside.

“So,” Mr. Bevins boomed. “You’ll just all have to play dodge ball!”

The class cheered, but Fletcher gulped. He didn’t like playing dodge ball. It wasn’t like he was bad at it or anything, he had an okay arm and he was good at the dodging part. The reason he hated it was because others had always used it as an opportunity to hurt him. How else would I become so good at dodging?

As Mr. Bevins divided them into two teams, Fletcher scanned the faces of the other students. None of them seemed to be looking at him, and they didn’t seem to have malicious expressions. It seemed like he just might get through the game without being targeted.

“Stone!” Mr. Bevins got to him and he had to turn his attention away from his peers. “Left!”

Fletcher nodded and hurried over to the left side of the gym. Once there, he looked around at his teammates. He knew that some of them were on school sports teams, so he guessed that the team was pretty good. He found himself smiling a little, looking forward to the game.

“What are you smiling about, fag?” One of his teammates shouted at him.

Fletcher instantly dropped the smile. “Nothing that concerns you.” He replied. He was a little pissed that, no matter how many times he gave his little speech, everyone in school still used the word fag.

“Hey, let’s badmouth the other team.” Someone behind Fletcher said to the other boys. Fletcher turned around and saw Lance walking toward them. Mr. Bevins must have put him on their team as well.

The boy who had called Fletcher a fag snorted. “Yeah, whatever.” He turned away and glared at the team forming on the other side of the gym.

Fletcher turned to thank Lance, but he didn’t know what to say. Instead, he just watched as Lance walked over to some of his friends and started talking to them about strategy.

Then the game started.

* * *

“Ow.” Fletcher winced as he placed a baggy of ice on his forehead. The spot still stung, and he was sure that a bruise was going to form.

“That looked like it hurt.” Lance said, sitting down next to Fletcher on the bench. He had opted out of the round to keep an eye out, just to be sure that Fletcher didn’t have a serious injury. “How do you feel?”

Fletcher shrugged. “The cold hurts more than the actual impact.” He didn’t look at Lance, instead focusing on his rainbow shoelaces. “I’m actually pretty used to this.”

Over the course of the game, a few of the kids on the opposing team had set their sights on Fletcher. It hadn’t taken long for almost every ball to come his way. Fletcher had been able to dodge them all, right up until one boy had aimed for his head.

Now he could feel Lance’s eyes on him. “Used to getting hit in the head?” The other boy’s voice was tinged with worry.

“Um, yeah.” Fletcher tried to brush it off like it was nothing. “We played dodge ball a lot at my old school.” He lowered the ice from his head and held it tightly in his lap with both hands. “I was a regular target.”

“Because you’re gay?”

Fletcher felt his throat tighten as he remembered Gym class the previous year. “No.” He hadn’t been out as gay back then. “Just because I was… different.” He didn’t want to talk about the bullying. It had been a painful time in his life, and he just wanted to pretend that it never happened.

“Oh.” Lance fell silent and the air between them grew heavy.

Fletcher listened to the squeaking of sneakers and pounding of rubber balls. His team was winning the round, but he felt bad for the other team. With the exception of the boy who had hurt him, the team was made up of some not very aggressive kids. He felt bad thinking it, but he wouldn’t be surprised if he wasn’t the only player to need ice by the end of the class.

“Are you going to be okay?” Lance asked quietly. “After school, I mean.”

“Huh?” Fletcher glanced up at Lance. “Oh, um, yeah.” He knew that Lance was referring to the drive home. He returned the baggy of ice to his head. “Like I said, it’s nothing.”

“Good.” Lance gave Fletcher’s shoulder a light punch. “And hey, you were pretty good out there.”

The round ended and Lance returned to the game. Fletcher watched as the new round started. He couldn’t take his eyes off Lance, who was clearly the star of their team. A smile spread across his face as the game progressed.