In all fairness, I was probably hallucinating from how attractive he was.
Lunch times for me are usually spent swooning over that one particular blonde guy in the year above me. I suppose swooning isn't the word I'm looking for here. Obsessing perhaps would be a better choice of words. Lunch times for me are usually spent obsessing over that one particular blonde guy in the year above me. He is the type of guy that earns you a skeptical look just at his mention. As if his name itself possesses the same tallness that he does. And in comparison to my five foot something of a structure, it's understandable. It has not always been understandable. But any guy that looks like he could take on a semi pro basketball player at the age of 15 is understandably too tall for a 14 year old Jabba the Hutt.
I have the athletic prowess of a 90 year old blobfish. In fact my biggest athletic achievement took place when I was ten and involved running through a series of hula hoops in a considerably short amount of time. I have not achieved anything as remarkable as that since. If anything I've gotten worse. Jabba the Hutt probably has a better chance of catching a tennis ball than I do.
My lack of athletic ability has been the root of many embarrassing moments in my lifetime. Most recently the netball incident, in which I managed to pass the ball to the opposing team instead of my own. But one of the most embarrassing moments I've inflicted upon myself takes place about 3 years ago.
After school clubs at the time that I had arrived at my high school were compulsory. You had to do it. You really didn't have a choice. Unless you somehow manged to come down with a serious case of athletes foot sometime between 8:30 and 2:55. And no one had managed to do that. After school clubs were a weird convention. At 3:00 you'd line up and get escorted to the assembly hall. At 3:10 they'd completely butcher your name and tell you your assigned group. At 3:12 ( or any time after that depending on how long you managed to annoy the teacher for) you'd go to your designated club.
Mine on that particular day was basketball. Apparently his was too. 'His' being the blonde guy in the year above me. Rest assured I embarrassed myself. You see, one thing you should know about me is that my hand to eye coordination is pretty much non existent when it comes to actual game scenarios. Warm ups I'm fine with. Run throughs, great. Games, you might as well bench me for the rest of it.
And so it didn't help that just as the first game ended I decided I'd be the one to throw the ball from the sideline. Soon as the second game began I threw the ball. To of course what should have been the blonde guy -who by the way was clearly signalling for me to pass it to him and might I add looking mighty fine whilst doing so- but what ended up being the empty space of nothingness to the side of him. Once again sending the ball out of the sidelines. Cue the applause now.
The one time I get to show off how amazingly agile and sporty I am and I screw it up.
Dammit!!!I didn't even play it off that well. I probably could've faked an arm spasm or something.
A part from that one time there hasn't been many encounters with him. I assume he's just afraid that a stray basketball ball might just come out of nowhere and hit him in the face. It really wouldn't be the first time.