Rhythm

History class dragged on as usual. I sat at my desk, eyes forward, listening to Miss Wallis as she went on about the Industrial Revolution. The room was warm, sunlight streaming through the windows, and the voices of students chattering outside during PE drifted in. It wasn't that I didn't care about history—it was just hard to focus when all I could think about was surviving the day without standing out.

Behind me, Kyle Briscoe and his group were being their usual disruptive selves. Kyle, Luke, Jack Gulyas, Atilla, and Otis—together, they were the loudest, most chaotic group in the year, and in almost every class, they seemed hell-bent on getting into trouble. Kyle was the worst, though. He had this laid-back, don't-care-about-anything attitude. The teachers were always on his case, but he never seemed to care. He wasn't mean—just... unpredictable.

I never really got involved with them. Too risky. Too much attention. I just quietly enjoyed their antics, like a silent observer of the madness. They were always up to something, making jokes, passing notes, throwing paper planes. It was entertaining, sure, but I kept my distance.

Today was no different. As Miss Wallis tried to explain the importance of the cotton gin, I heard Kyle and his crew snickering behind me. They were trading "your mum" jokes like it was a contest.

"Your mum's so slow, it takes her two hours to watch 60 Minutes!" Otis whispered, and they all burst into muffled laughter.

I couldn't help but grin a little, shaking my head. It was silly, but in the middle of a boring lesson, anything remotely funny stood out.

Then Luke chimed in, his voice just loud enough for me to hear. "Your mum's so ugly, even Rozarinho wouldn't sign her autograph."

The group howled with laughter, and I stiffened. Rozarinho was my favorite football player. Luke's jab wasn't directly at me, but it still hit close to home. I glanced over my shoulder, and Luke's eyes met mine. His grin widened as if he'd noticed me for the first time all lesson.

"Oh, look, it's Miles," Luke said, leaning forward. "Got a joke for us, mate?"

I hesitated. I wasn't sure what to say. I didn't joke around like that, especially not with them. I wanted to avoid the attention, but before I could stop myself, I said, "Your mum's so dumb, she thought a quarterback was a refund."

The guys behind me went silent for a split second, then burst into laughter. I smiled, feeling a strange rush of confidence. Maybe this wasn't so bad.

"Oh, he's got jokes now," Kyle said, his tone teasing. "Alright, Miles, let's see what you've got."

The next few minutes were a blur of back-and-forth jokes. Luke, Jack, and Atilla jumped in, each one trying to one-up the last. I was holding my own for a while, but the jokes started getting more personal. They weren't just "your mum" jokes anymore—they were about me.

"Your hair's so curly, it could tie itself in knots," Jack said, and Kyle and Luke hyped him up with exaggerated laughter.

"Your skin's so shiny, it blinds the whole class," Atilla added, grinning.

Each joke hit a little harder, and with every burst of laughter from the group, I felt the sting a bit more. I tried to laugh it off, but my responses were getting weaker. My mind raced, searching for something to say, but nothing came.

"Come on, Miles," Luke said, leaning back in his chair. "You got anything left?"

I shook my head, smiling weakly, pretending like it didn't bother me. But inside, I felt like I'd been backed into a corner. It wasn't even about the jokes anymore—it was about not being able to defend myself, about feeling outnumbered.

Eventually, the jokes fizzled out, and the group settled back into their usual chaos. Miss Wallis, who had somehow managed to ignore the entire ordeal, continued her lecture, oblivious to the tension that had just hung in the air. I sat quietly, my mind spinning, replaying every moment. I was annoyed, maybe even hurt, but I wasn't going to show it. I wasn't going to give them that satisfaction.

As the lesson went on, though, something strange happened. Kyle and the others started talking to me more, not in a mocking way, but like I was... part of them now. They passed me notes, whispered more jokes and even nudged me when something funny happened. It was weird. It was like by surviving their little "test," I'd earned some sort of unspoken respect.

By the time the bell rang for break, I'd almost forgotten about the jokes. I was just relieved. As everyone packed up, Kyle leaned over, giving me a half-smile. "Not bad, Miles. You kept up."

"Thanks, I guess," I said, trying not to sound too affected.

We all shuffled out of the classroom, and to my surprise, Kyle walked alongside me as we headed toward the playground. Luke, Jack, Atilla, and Otis followed behind, still laughing and messing around. It felt... normal like I belonged there.

"You play football?" Kyle asked as we walked.

"Yeah, a little," I replied, still unsure about where this was going.

"We're playing at the break. You should join," he said, casually as if it wasn't a big deal. But to me, it was.

"Yeah, alright," I said, trying to keep my excitement in check.

We got to the playground, and before long, a ball appeared, and we started a game. Kyle's group was good—Luke was fast, Atilla was surprisingly agile for his size, and Jack was strong. I hung back at first, not wanting to mess up, but after a while, I got into the rhythm of the game. I was faster than I thought, and when the ball came to me, I dribbled past Luke and passed it off to Kyle, who scored easily.

"Nice pass, Miles!" Kyle shouted, grinning as he jogged back.

I smiled, feeling a rush of pride. For the first time all day, I wasn't thinking about fitting in or being different. I was just... playing.

As the game went on, I noticed something. The jokes from earlier didn't seem to matter anymore. They weren't holding it over my head, and I wasn't dwelling on it. I was part of the group now, even if it had started rough.

By the time break ended, I was out of breath but happy. Kyle slapped me on the back as we headed back to class. "You've got some skills, Miles. We'll have to play again."

"Definitely," I said, grinning.

We walked back into the school, the chaos of the playground fading behind us. I felt lighter like I'd finally found my place, even if it was with the rowdiest group in Year 7. Maybe fitting in wasn't as hard as I thought—sometimes, all it took was a little chaos.

As we headed back to class, I realized something important. This was how things worked here. It wasn't about being the smartest or the quietest. It was about finding your rhythm, knowing when to speak up and when to let things slide. I didn't know what the rest of the year would bring, but for now, I was starting to feel like I belonged.

"Hey, Miles," Luke called out as we walked into the classroom. "Bet you can't make that pass again next time."

I smirked. "We'll see."

For the first time since I'd started at Chelmer Valley, I felt a sense of rhythm. Maybe things would be alright after all.