The majority of the jocks' sexual attacks happened at parties, usually to a girl drunk on a sofa, getting raped and Bill Cosby shit.
In retrospect, the jocks probably deserved some kinder, gentler, more anodyne version of Columbine, like maybe getting blasted with paintball guns or tasers or mace instead of bullets.
They were rapists, the jocks, after all, and not disputable, questionable rapists like Kobe Bryant, but real Harvey Weinstein rapists,
and serial date rapists allowed to rape because they excelled at sports.
That's how it was.
They were the jocks.
And we were the fags...
The biggest fag of us all was Lenard.
Literally, he was big, 6'9 in 8th grade.
He was a German American, who was that sort of special German, northern European, Aryan caveman mix of fat and muscle and stout, Alpine snow-white skin, crystal blue eyes.
Lenard could have been one of our enemies, he could have been a jock, he could have been one of them, if not for his personality.
He was too laid back. Sensitive.
Liked to read big bulky brick-sized books like "Shogun" and listen to The Cure and Depeche Mode and didn't care much for aggressive hip hop or popularity or the latest clothes, fashions, trends.
And he didn't have a fade or a flattop.
Instead he had shoulder length dark wispy hair, parted down the middle, mutton chop sideburns and wore solid black shirts and jeans and heavy, murky eye liner.
That's why he fit in with us. That's why he was a fag. Because we were the same. We freaks, posers, nerds, romantics and misfits. We formed a union, were a conglomeration of fags.
Aside from Lenard, none of us were physical specimens. We were short, chunky, uncoordinated, skinny, zit-faced.
And definitely none of us could have been, like, maybe a pro athlete, except for Lenard. He could have. He certainly had the physical build.
He was the only one of us who wasn't bullied, beaten on by the jocks, and when he was with us, in the cafeteria, wherever, the jocks stayed away.
Given his intimidating size, they wanted no part of him.
That changed, though, in gym class.
Like us, Lenard wouldn't regularly participate and would sneak off with the rest of us fags, running off into the woods behind school, like escaped convicts,
to smoke cigarettes and sip on alcohol stolen from someone's parents.
But, and I don't know why, he finally decided to join a basketball game in gym class and, perhaps out of a sense of obligation, we joined him on the court,
forming a team of freaks and fags and we were matched up against the jocks.
Of course the jocks ran us ragged, most of us- but not Lenard.
We just threw the ball to him, and he'd chuck it right over them, dunked several times.
I think he'd played basketball before at the school he'd transferred in from, because the game came easy to him, and he moved way swifter than I'd expect of a dude his size,
all juking and jiving, dancing with grace, almost like a ballerina.
One of the jocks, also tall, but still shorter than Lenard, this crew cut, brace face fuck, named Allen, didn't appreciate being shown up,
didn't like being dunked on by a ponytailed sasquatch of a fag. Especially one wearing eye liner...
Following Lenard's second effortless dunk over Allen, and the ball inadvertently hitting Allen upside the corner of his head, Allen barked curses and shoved Lenard and challenged him to a fight,
not there, on the court, but said how Lenard had to meet him after school, at the track, behind the bleachers... 3:45 PM.
Lenard pushed him back, knocking Allen off balance, and responded laconically, "I'm there!" and stalked off...