"Look, I didn't ask to be picked. None of us did."

In my head, my voice sounded loud. I'd made it a point to puff out my chest and tighten my fists, speaking to my team like a fearless superhero. Regardless, my sentence of valliance fell on deaf ears and horrified facial expressions. Bobby Hooper was the palest kid I'd ever met, and somehow he looked paler, eyes wide like a feral forest creature. Wade Sakai trembled like a leaf, his glasses bouncing up and down on the bridge of his sweat-soaked nose. Scott Thapar's eyes kept darting from the opposing team and the gym's exit doors. I knew he wouldn't make a mad dash for it, and I think he knew that too. I swallowed the stone in my throat, forcing it to descend into the pit of my stomach that was filled with Vanilla Coke, and digested Flamin' Hot Cheetos.

"W-why would he do this?" Scott fumbled. "Why would Mr. Durbin allow this to happen? Why doesn't he just end the game?"

My eyes landed on Mr. Durbin, his back was to us as he addressed Ms. Bowman about god knows what. He talked with the whistle between his lips, he was messing with us and I think I was the only one to realize that.

"Blow the whistle, Durbin!" Shouted someone from the pool of eliminated eighth graders.

"Oh man, he's screwing with us," screeched Wade through gritted teeth. "He torturing us on purpose! Just blow the damn thing Durb-"

And then Durbin's whistle went off, slicing through the Avris Middle School gym like a hot knife. Immediately after the whistle was the sound of a dodgeball to Wade's face. The eighth grader who'd thrown it had thrown it hard. Hard enough to lift Wade off his feet, powerful enough to readjust the glasses on his face. Wade's body soared through the air but only for a few seconds and then he was sprawled out on his back, spread eagle with his arms flailed out like he was pretending to be the letter X.

"Sakai! You're out! Get your ass off the court!!" Durbin howled.

Scott let out a high-pitched scream, one so loud that it made the eighth graders and our fellow seventh graders burst out with laughter. He made the mad dash for the gym doors, as another red comet soared in his direction, colliding with his skinny ankles. It ripped his left foot out from under him, he stumbled over his own feet, spinning in circles as his arms pinwheeled around, and then he collapsed backward and onto his butt.

"Scott!! You're out!!"

Bobby looked at me and tightened his fists, his eyes had gone from feral creature to hungry predator. His skin had gone from ghostly pale to beet red. "For Sparta!!!!" He screamed as he jumped in front of me. I watched as three balls collided in perfect unison against his torso, the fourth ball brought him to his knees. The fifth ball hit him in the chin, and the sixth ball hit him in the forehead with such force that it tattooed a giant welt on his pale dome.

And then there was me, and only me. My Last Stand against Six Horrific Eighth Graders. I could hear the disappointment from my classmates. I could hear the laughter and applause from the heinous eighth graders. I could see the red comets as they blocked out the ceiling gym lights, and then there was darkness and nothing else.