I really wanted to make a oneshot so here ya go! and don't worry, I haven't stopped writing Watching. The chapters are taking me longer than usual because I really want to make sure it turns out good. review please!

diclaimer: i don't own degrassi, or panthers.

"Goldsworthy!" Coach Armstrong yelled. I immediately froze, waking up from my vivid daydream about my girlfriend, Clare.

Gym class. This was the one class I couldn't even remotely stand. Even though I wasn't particularly fond of the classes where the teachers would run their mouths about irrelevant topics in monotonous voices while the students sat there and daydreamed, at least I could stand them. Gym class was much, much more than that. It involved communication with some of Degrassi's finest dumb asses. It also involved Degrassi's very own, new-and-improved gym uniforms; khaki shorts. And when I say shorts, I mean tight, disgraceful, above the knee embarrassments. For our shirts, we wore tight, panther-blue tank tops with "sleeves" about the size of three fingers lined up. Oh, but don't worry, they "manned them up for us." If by manning them up, you mean including a panther growling in the center. Gee, thanks, Degrassi.

"Armstrong!" I yelled back, rolling my eyes. I was not in the mood for his ridiculous commands today - hell, I wasn't in the mood for them any day. Besides, it's not like I'm on the basketball team or anything; it's gym class. A supposed easy A. Right, I was sporting a shiny, red F on my report card each quarter from this pointless, 45 minute charade. Bravo, Eli, failing gym class is a new rock bottom.

I guess he's just used to my constant, snarky remarks so now, he has no responses for my comebacks.

"If you want to pass gym this quarter, you'll do what I say," Armstrong said, his eyes formed into slits and his arms crossed. "And I know you weren't listening, so I'll fill you in. We're playing knockout, and you'll be playing with them." He said, pointing over to a group standing by one of the basketball hoops.

I looked over to the group he pointed at. There stood three, bulky yet idiotic teenagers who were all intimidatingly larger than me; Owen Milligan, Drew Torres, and KC Guthrie. I faced Armstrong yet again, my mouth dangling open and my eyebrows drawn together furiously, my expression doing all the talking for me. Armstrong kept his eyes in the same two slits and his arms crossed over his chest. As I walked away from him, I flashed him a brief glance of pure loathe.

I walked over to my fellow peers with a confident swagger. Once I reached the group, I realized they were too in depth with their conversation on which girl at Degrassi has the nicest ass. I rolled my eyes and faked a cough, which caused them to look up and for KC to say, "What?" in a disrespectful tone.

"Armstrong is making me play with you guys," I informed them awkwardly.

"Great," Owen emphasized sarcastically. "Now we have Emo Boy here to show us the ropes on basketball." He rolled his eyes, hauling the ball at my stomach. I caught the ball right before it would have been able to knock the wind out of me. For a second, instead of seeing Owen's face, I saw the crooked-tooth, red-haired face of my 9-year-old bully, Mike. I thought of the possibility of punching his face in, but Clare's face came into my mind and I shook my head.

"I don't want to start anything," I stated. "So can we just play?"

"You're the boss, Bro," Drew said, bouncing his basket ball. "You can go first."

Go first? I had no idea how to play knockout. Well, knockout involves basketballs, which involves shooting them in baskets, so I might as well just shoot the ball and try to make it. I thought.

I dribbled the ball once, locked it in my hands, and threw it at the rim. It bounced off the backboard, and came hauling back towards me. I caught it, and tried to shoot again, missing.

"Dude!" KC yelled. "You only shoot once, genius. How old are you anyway? Aren't you a niner?"

I shot him another Eli-riffic death glare. "Grade eleven, actually."

"Whatever," Drew said. We continued playing knockout, and I was beginning to pick up on how the game was played. We played a few rounds before the communication picked up again.

"So which girl has the nicest chest?" Drew questioned. I rolled my eyes again. These guys are pathetic.

"There's always Bianca, and Alli. Oh, and Holly J, Anya, Chantay, and Jenna." Owen said, a smile approaching his lips.

"And then there's that other girl," Drew began, puzzlement spreading across his face. "I forgot her name. Short curly hair, pretty cute, hangs out with Alli?"

"Clare Edwards." KC said, shooting the basketball, knocking out Owen. My eyes opened up widely. How dare Drew look at my girlfriend's chest. Just as I was about to say something, KC spoke up again.

"She's so wild, man." He said, smiling like a jack ass. "I tapped that last year, like, twenty times." I started laughing loudly. KC was definitely the most pathetic of all of them. I know for a fact Clare never slept with KC; she would have told me.

"Something funny, Dracula?" KC asked me. KC knocked Drew out.

"Yeah," I began, trying to control my laughter. "Clare Edwards got a purity ring when she was 12." Drew and Owen started breaking out in laughter fits.

"Well, how would you know that?" KC asked defensively, his face turning a light shade of red.

"I'm Clare's new boyfriend," I said, taking off the chain from around my neck and showing it to KC. Attached to the end was a small, silver ring with three words etched onto it in cursive: True Love Waits. "Clare gave me her purity ring. She doesn't need it anymore." I said, winking at KC.

KC's mouth fell open in a half shocked, half completely distraught expression. He had clearly recognized the ring. It was a one-of-a-kind, expensive piece of jewelery, made specifically for Clare. He shot the ball and it bounced off the rim, sending it flying out in a different direction. KC ran after the ball quickly, while I shot the ball effortlessly and to my surprise, it went in, resulting in me winning the game. This caused Drew and Owen to go into an even louder laughing fit.

The bell rang, signalling class was over. I smirked while silently thanking the god I never have believed in, before Armstrong came running over to me.

"KC is our star basketball player and you beat him. I just bumped your average up to a C, and if you join the basketball team I'll make it an A." He sounded desperate, yet extremely thrilled.

I smirked again. "Thanks, but it's not really my style." I walked to the exit of the gymnasium feeling manlier than the panther growling on my shirt.

hope you liked it! REVIEW IF YOU WANT MOOOREEE :)

*SIDE NOTE: do panthers growl? raur? or do they hiss since they are cats? sorry i'm really stupid, haha! review letting me know. i really hope they growl hahahaah.