written for 150 words or less-we like short shorts contest
|It’s 7:45 in the morning, I’m seven years old. It's four days into my second grade school year. For the third day in a row I’m hiding behind a tree as the bus pulls off. I don’t know how a seven year old could hate school so much. It probably had something to do with the prior years daily beatings on the playground at lunch. It more than likely had something to do with last year’s introduction to the Principal's three paddles he had proudly hanging on the wall next to his desk. I still don’t know what causes one person to stand up and fight, and the next person to tuck tail and run. I don’t know but by second grade I had figured out what kind of person I was.