“Sam, Jesse, pick your teams!” bellowed Mr Cook. James hoped with everything in him that maybe this time one of them would pick him. He hated being picked last every time. James was never good in sport and was at the bottom of the social rank… definitely not an obvious choice for either team. He knew he was different.
One by one they first picked their friends, then the other popular kids. Like every other time, James was left standing. “I hate this,” he mumbled to himself, hoping that the ground would open up and swallow him.