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“And this is it?” he points at the first girl. “I saw you in first period, you barely bothered to catch any of the balls you were tossed. I’m pretty sure you spent more time on your cell.”
The girl rolls her eyes, and looks completely unashamed of the fact she had her phone out in class. Derek knows Finstock would have stepped on it.
“And you,” he points at the second girl, taller and with eyes that meet Derek’s coolly. “You can’t throw anything worth half a damn. And what are you,” he points at the boy, trying not to look him in the eye, and failing. “A hundred and fifty pounds wet?”
The boy smirks at him, and Derek looks resolutely away. He’s now desperately trying not to picture him wet.
"I can't work with this."