THIRD PERIOD: GYM

"Eight, nine, and ten." The gymnasium lights bounce off of Mr. Schmidtz's freshly shaven bald head. It's almost blinding. He looks at his grade-book in dissatisfaction. "I know you guys can do more than ten pushups without sweating!"

Beads of sweat cling to Jeremy's forehead. "Don't worry, he's always like this. Lucky for us."

"What was that Belknap?" Mr. Schmidtz looks at him with the intensity of a college student rooting for the football team at a rival game.

"Nothing, sir." Jeremy sighs.

"Okay, ten more. And I want some spirit in these pushups this time! No wimpy stuff!"

You lower your body to the waxed wooden gym floor until your chin taps it. Your biceps flex as you raise your body. Just a few more . . .

"Alright. I've seen enough of these pathetic attempts. Line up in your squads." Mr. Schmidtz barks before blowing the red whistle that he keeps twirling around his finger. You take a look at him and almost laugh. His huge upper body dwarfs his lower body. You wonder how those chicken legs can hold up so much upper torso muscles.

"Sweet. Groups!" Jeremy exclaims in excitement.