A Hero’s Life for Me
You know what sucks? Life. Know what sucks worse? Tell me, because I haven’t found anything yet. Life really started to suck for me in sixth grade, on a field trip that was supposed to be fun. Things started to go bad on the lunch break.
“You know, we should help them,” Cara bit into her sandwich promptly after whispering that to me. We were sitting together at the top of the Metropolitan Museum of Art’s staircase.
Cara was staring, a sarcastic smile on her face, at Jackson and Grover. She usually was nowadays. “Want me to do it?” I had to ask, since Cara is the leader of a small gang that, technically, I’m a member of. We bully the bullies. It doesn’t solve the problem, but it helps in some cases. One such case was Nancy; a rather unkind girl who seems to love messing with Jackson.
“Oh no, get me down there,” she stuffed the last bit of sandwich into her mouth. Another thing about Cara: she has a leg problem. I don’t ever remember the name of what she’s got, but it hurts her to walk. So, she has a wheelchair. Don’t let that fool you though, she’s vicious. Not to mention she has a gang of about twenty people marching to the beat of her drum.
I started to wheel her up the handicap ramp, she said hello to our Latin teacher, who was also in a wheelchair. He was reading a book, as per usual, and was very focused on it. At the bottom of the ramp, I quit pushing the chair. I didn’t know what she was going to do, but I knew that she didn’t need my help. She’s very independent.
Oh boy was I unprepared for what she was going to do.
I could see Jackson getting mad. The kid looks dangerous, I’ll admit. There’s something unnerving about his eyes that other people don’t seem to notice. This twerp Nancy couldn’t be bothered to notice danger if it bit her. Not even Cara, building up speed across the sidewalk, shaping up to hit her.
By the way, my name is Thorne.
