83 punches

PUNCH2

Now I know why the four of them hesitated to attack me. my brother told them to go easy on me

can you believe it? the very person who trained me and at the end told me that I would make a fantastic agent is the same one denying me the full experience. it's still shocking for me. I thought our agreement would stick but of course, I was wrong like I always am with him. so I'm not back home today, I mean, our home is practically a war zone. you don't need to be funny in our house all you need is to know when to duck or you might be hit by something like a plate. pretty soon we shall have nowhere to put our food to eat. just imagine on thanksgiving when the turkey is curved and there are no plates. now that would be sad. so in my plight, my brother saved me. just like when we were little, he always let me sleep in his bed whenever I had a nightmare.  When we reached Ray's house we entered the house and let me tell you, my brother, is a neat freak. everything was spotless and you can even see your reflection on the kitchen counters. I flopped onto the couch and reached for the remote to binge-watch the living dead. I don't feel squeamish when I look at the images. yeah, I'm not exactly a girly girl. I watched the last episode of the walking dead and it was already dark outside, mom was calling me non stop I wonder if I ought to get a loudspeaker when I'm talking to her because I swear she never hears a single word I say. I mean, what's the point if she is always fighting with her boyfriend. call me anti-Josh but I'm just pro-Dad. my brother sat next to me holding two plates of pizza and he held one out to me. there he goes again, being my hero. he always did this when we were little and our parents were fighting. he would come to my room with finger foods and we would watch horror movies on his laptop. he put his arm around my shoulders and we ate in silence. meanwhile, the end credits of the walking dead were rolling up. he snatched the remote from my hand and put Moana I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I have nothing against Disney but he overwatches it. in the morning, I walked to school. now let me tell you about my school. it's a normal school, with all the cliche kind of high school. the nerds were huddled together testing each other with flashcards while others were simply pocketing rather broadly, then there were the popular kids also known as the rich kids . in walked the group of four. the most popular and also the most unpopular kids in school. they looked familiar. well, I had seen them before but never paid them much attention though. that was until this weekend. when I beat them up my friend Sky came bounding up to me(sigh) she sometimes reminded me of my pet dog not that she is.  a dog but her happiness very early in the morning. her big blue eyes were wide as she run up to me her blonde hair flying behind her. when she reached me at my locker,  she was out t  of breath.

no way

yes way

 you can't be serious.

that was the argument we had. it was about the four most popular boys in school.  it all started when I told her that I met the four most popular boys in the school. we headed to homeroom right before the bell rang.  we began doing our worksheets. it was quite easy for me since Ray was tutoring me all of the summer even though I didn't need it but of course, I couldn't say no to him no matter how hard I tried to tell him that I didn't need it, he insisted and so I caved. and that was how the class went. but somewhere in the middle of it, four people entered the disrupted everyone apart from me. well, I do pride myself on my ability to concentrate no matter what happens in the background. well, that is if Sky is not nudging me in the ribs repeatedly. " what?" I snapped at her but she didn't reply her mouth was hanging open as she stared at the front of the class. I simply rolled my eyes and continued looking through my work because I had finished all the questions.  they walked to the class and took seats next to us. within twenty-five minutes, the class was over and the bell rang.

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