I think I've told you how I've made the mistake of taking gym again in the hopes of having Harlotte as my partner. Here's how it backfired:

I have Ampallang as my partner. He's not quite clinically retarded but was never very bright to begin with, and his daily drug use since 6th grade has only made his condition worse. He's half asian (I think) and has sparse facial hair which he tries to manicure. He dresses like a black person would after a shopping spree. I don't know his last name, or even if "Ampallang" is his first name, for I've never heard anyone, even the teachers, call him by any other name.

As my gym partner, Ampallang is responsible for holding my feet while I stretch, counting my sit-ups, and waiting at the other half of the gym so I can run to him with a stick. He's as proficient at these tasks as a shopping cart would be. He loses count of my exersizes, and when I try to take my own count the teacher rebuffs me saying that one learns teamwork in gym class. His mouth never shuts, as he's always talking about what drugs he's done/will do tonight /is on right now, and it all muddles into a continuum of inebrietation. "That shit will fuck you up ", "I was fucked up" and "I'm gonna get fucked up" will be heard at least once an hour while around him.

You only seem to meet these people in gym class.

As for Harlotte, she has been being coquettish. She's been pushing the dress code in gym class, wearing shorts that come exactly to her fingertips and a gym shirt that seems two sizes too small. Not that i'm impressed by that or anything, but I think it's noteworthy she's trying to get me to notice her exterior as I try to delve into the riches of her soul. She does not talk to me in gym class because we're all too busy with our partners and the males and females are segregated, but I hope this will end when our activities change. Oh, Lisa Frist is her partner. That obese piglet is even worse than Ampallang with gym activities, and our eyes meet frequently because she's staring at Harlotte with rapt adoration just as often as I look on her with tender affection. Harlotte is her only friend, as no one else will touch that thing. Lisa has even taken to wearing ICP shirts in some lame attempt to impress Harlotte by imitating me. Little does she know that I only accept the theological aspect of the clowns rather than the base commercialism she can't see through.

Now that we're not in English together anymore (she was kicked out of the honors english class) it's becoming harder and harder to talk to her. At lunch she has to go to remedial classes to bring up her sol score, and what time is left at lunch is usually spent talking to Lisa. That's why I think she's reaching out to me through those two anonymous love letters she's left in my locker in order that we may be together in ethereal rather than physical space. I offered to edit her papers again, but she says she has to drive to Upperville every evening to work. Apparently she makes small change by walking some rich guy's dogs. Perhaps she will nurture an appreciation for the countryside she is disdainful of, an appreciation we can share on my estate-farm in the future.