Kind of like my Aunt Helen and me. I’m sorry. “My Aunt Helen and I.” That’s one thing I learned this week.
That and more consistent punctuation. I keep quiet most of the time, and only one kid named Sean really seemed to notice me.
He waited for me after gym class and said really immature things like how he was going to give me a “swirlie,”
which is where someone sticks your head in the toilet and flushes to make your hair swirl around.
He seemed pretty unhappy as well, and I told him so.
Then, he got mad and started hitting me, and I just did the things my brother taught me to do.
My brother is a very good fighter. “Go for the knees, throat, and eyes.”
And I did. And I really hurt Sean. And then I started crying.
And my sister had to leave her senior honors class and drive me home.
I got called to Mr. Small’s office, but I didn’t get suspended or anything because a kid told Mr. Small the truth about the fight.
“Sean started it. It was self-defense.” And it was. I just don’t understand why Sean wanted to hurt me.
I didn’t do anything to him. I am very small. That’s true. But I guess Sean didn’t know I could fight.
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