On my way to the gym for PE, I passed by a a group of junior high students -- the seventh and eighth graders had a separate wing of the building, but there was only one gym, one library, one cafeteria, and one band classroom, so perforce the younger students crossed paths with us high schoolers from time to time.

I didn’t recognize them. I knew a few of Jocelyn’s friends, but, well, there was a social gap between high school and junior high, even in a small school. A senior or junior might have classes with a freshman or sophomore, and have the opportunity to get to know the younger student… Or in sports, where freshmen and sophomores might be on the same teams as the older students, and thus have an opportunity to interact with an upperclassman. But high school and junior high shared no classes and shared no sports, so there wasn’t much opportunity to get to know each other at school.

One of the students, a gawky redheaded guy, was saying, “I still can’t believe someone wiped their whole group in the newbie zone.”

“Probably an old person who still thinks games are Minesweeper and World of Warcraft,” replied a darker-haired student.

“Or a jock. I bet it was a football player who wouldn’t back down.” This was said by a Hispanic girl wearing the junior high version of Monica’s cheerleader uniform. “Good behavior on the field, not so much in a game.”

I wanted to say something, but I refrained.

For one, it probably wouldn’t do any good even if I had the time to try and convince them. Maybe this little group would accept an explanation, but where there was one, there were many. I certainly couldn’t go to every school and work center in the county to try and convince them that our party wipe wasn’t the result of incompetence or whatever. And, in a way, the young cheerleader was somewhat right -- we hadn’t backed down when we should’ve -- even though none of us, not even Mika nor Jenna, were what one might conceivably call a jock.

And for two, there was a matter of time. There was only a few minutes between classes, and they had a class to go to and I had a class to go to. That wasn’t enough time to put in more than my two cents worth in passing, and why would a high schooler cross that social gap to defend the group without implicating themselves? So I shrugged it off, though it rankled a little that people had a misunderstanding of what happened. Stupid server broadcasts -- there was no need for the game to have told everyone that.

So, gym class started with me in a bit of a bad mood. But, if there was one class that I couldn’t stay upset in, it was PE.

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That’s not because I particularly enjoyed physical activity, though hanging out with Mika and Jenna, it was something that couldn’t generally be avoided -- we were at the beach almost every weekend except during winter, and even then sometimes -- though the water was too cold for swimming.

And it wasn’t because physical activity was a good way to distract the mind, either. If it was running laps, doing aerobics or yoga, or any of a whole host of other things, there often wasn’t much mental engagement in Personal Fitness Improvement (the official course title, as opposed to Individual/Team Sports, Weightlifting, or a couple other variations on PE that the school offered).

No, it was for a simpler reason than that. Out of the sixteen students who took this PE class during fourth hour, it was fifteen girls and me.

Granted, that wasn’t the reason I had put the course on my schedule. I needed a PE credit -- our school required four years of PE to graduate, though athletes could substitute two seasons of sports for a year, for up to three years of credit. I wasn’t on any of the sports teams, so four years of PE for me. I took the course because it was the course and hour Mika took her PE credit. It was the one regular class schedule that I got to share with at least one of my friends.

Of course, I got some mild teasing at first from some of my other classmates. Nothing to the point that Mika felt she needed to get involved in, but some of the guys were wondering why I took a course that had a heavy focus on yoga and aerobics instead of weight lifting or football or other so-called masculine activities. It took a few of them several long moments to understand when I pointed out that I was the only guy in a class full of girls before there was the knowing looks and the wink-wink-nudge-nudge of understanding and maybe even a little bit of “why didn’t I think of that” chagrin.

Of course, that also made the harem commentary a little more pointed at times. But nothing in life is free.

Besides what should be the obvious advantage (and at times disadvantage) in being the only guy in a class full of girls, there was also a hidden benefit -- I got the guys’ locker room to myself that hour.

Nevertheless, I still wasn’t the first person up in the gym. A trio of freshmen girls were standing around, chatting. I waved to them as I crossed the gym floor -- being that the class was fifteen-to-one (sixteen-to-one if you counted the teacher), class always started on the girls’ side of the gym. They waved back, but were otherwise too involved in their conversation to do aught else.

I sat on the floor -- not too near as to appear to be eavesdropping, but not too far as to appear to be avoiding them either -- and began to stretch. Half a minute later, Mika sat down next to me. “I heard. Jenna told Naomi and Naomi told me last hour. It’s probably not a bad idea for Naomi and me to get our parents’ information in the game, too, so we’ll try to do that while you all are meeting your Mom and Dad.”

“And Jocelyn?” I asked.

“Of course she can play with us! If she were a little older, she’d probably already be part of our group, right?”