"Damn it", I whispered under my breath. I narrowed my eyes and leaned over a bit, trying to get a look at my neighbors paper, but to no avail. "Five more minutes, then you will have to pass up your papers. I will grade what you got done, and mark any unanswered questions wrong", the teacher shouted at us. I nearly jumped out of my seat and looked straight up at her; I wasn't even done with the first page yet! I quickly scribbled down answers and sat back in my seat, looking as if I had a hundred problems but the math test ain't one. I laughed quietly to myself and flicked a stray piece of hair out of my eyes when the teacher started to collect our papers. "Hey, what do ya think you got, Brea? I'm sure it was a perfect score like always", I chuckled. She looked down and muttered "Well, I could've done better... but next time I'll be ready for it." I shook my head, smiling to myself. It was obvious that Brea would get an A, but still fret over how low of an A it would be or something totally stupid like that. As soon as the bell rang, I whooped like an Indian and ran full speed out of the classroom with kids trailing out behind me, trying to eagerly get to their classes. I bolted through the halls, I desperately needed to get a good seat at lunch. I slowed my pace as I got closer and let Brea catch up. We slipped through the crowded hallways, enjoying each other's company until •WHAM• I was thrown forcefully to the ground by a sneering jock, ready to bring his cleat down on my face. Someone screamed, maybe Brea. The hallways got quiet as students gathered around us, waiting to see a fight break out. I spent a second puzzling out why this tall, blonde asshole was targeting me and no other kid when it suddenly clicked. He was no other than Kyle McFarley, manager of the soccer and football teams. He lifted his shoe so I could see the dirt and grime stuck between the indents in the sole. I smirked and rolled out of the way as his shoe came flying down, only a couple inches away from my head. I heard a few gasps from the still-gathering crowd and smiled to myself. They were here to see a good fight, and I was about to give them one. I'm no stronger than your average football player, but in a situation like this I always give my all. I sprung up from the floor and looked him straight in the eye. I could see the muscles in his left arm tensing up and pulling back, getting ready to throw a punch at yours truly. I dodged his first punch but his second caught me off guard. It hit me straight in the chest, knocking the wind out of me. I coughed but kept fighting. I couldn't let him know I was injured or he would take advantage of it. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Kyle's fingers stretched and ready to pin me if needed. I quickly snatched one of his fingers and slowly bent it back with a horribly satisfied smile on my face. He yelled in pain and I wrenched it back some more, ultimately breaking it. He was screaming now, so I let him go and have him a black eye as a souvenir. As the jock crumpled to the ground I spotted Brea, beckoned to her, and continued to the cafeteria. We felt the eyes on us as we walked through the halls although it didn't bother me. All I could think of was the delicious food in my backpack. Right before we walked through the cafeteria doors, I looked back over my shoulder and saw Kyle standing alone in the middle of a deserted hallway, with a look of sadness in his bloody face. I almost felt sorry for him, but I was too hungry to care. Lunch had begun. I'm so done with this damn thing.
