Ben stood not long after Raeleigh, brushing himself off with a sweep of his hand and slinging his backpack across his shoulder. Taking school supplies in the other hand, he froze, running through his mind what he had to do when he got home, all while Raeleigh was talking. After his self-scan of sorts had been completed, he allowed himself another short smirk.
"Does that mean I'll be paid?" Ben remarked with a chuckle. "Yeah, I'm still on for today. Anything to procrastinate that essay."
Offering a final farewell to her, Ben turned and began the way to the gymnasium where he'd be spending the next semester before switching over to the 'education' part of 'physical education'. That course he had down, though - don't smoke, don't eat junk, the usual health course nonsense that should be self explanatory. As it was, though, it would be running around doing things that barely passed as hard workouts and learning the rules of sports everyone had been exposed to before. What a joy of a class period.
When he took his first steps into the gymnasium, Ben merely scanned the empty chamber with one sweeping arc. He had been about to question if their first class was here until the crowd gathered behind him and pushed through the double doors. Avoiding the potential stampede, he scurried to the closest bleacher and laid his things down. No doubt the coach would be here any minute, following his charges as they settled down near where Benjamin had settled down.
"I heard we got the drill sergeant." Muttered one girl to another.
"My brother hated him...Man never quits, he must be like sixty!" Replied the other.
Not that he had meant to eavesdrop, but it was hard not to hear what went on when the two were absurdly inept at the art of the whisper. While Ben waited, he questioned the accuracy of naming him the 'drill sergeant', figuring that whoever this figure was, he couldn't be all that terrible. When the man finally did step through those double doors, timed right to the bell, he wished he hadn't possessed the audacity to be wrong. Greying hair buzzed to a fine point grew out of a harsh, angled head with a stout brow and hooked nose. Fiery blue eyes gazed beneath a bushy set of eyebrows that dominated the clean-shaven face.
Hands firm behind his back, back straight, the Drill Sergeant stepped forward with loud thuds and squeaks of his tennis shoes. Truthfully, Ben hadn't realized that stereotypical gym teachers still existed, if they ever had at all. Snapping around quickly, the coach cleared his throat and bellowed outward with no real direction.
"Welcome to physical fitness 1-0-1!"
Why couldn't I have been right?