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that'll
never happen to me, even if I'm a right-handed person and my right
hand is, in fact, injured. I've prepared for this moment, just to
make sure that I can keep taking notes and keep my grades from
faltering. Back when I was still a freshman in Greenvale, I spent
every Saturday nights practicing writing using my left hand. Now I
can write with my left hand with the same efficiency as my right
hand.
    I was walking back to my locker from my
last subject, World Politics, when I noticed that everyone was
looking at me. But not just at me, they're looking at my bandaged
hand. By now, they must have heard of what happened at Tara's.
Ironically, Bruce earned more admirers than ever. He's now top two
in this virtual list of Hottest Guys in Greenvale High. Bruce
toppled Sam Gunderson (the mysterious skater boy) and Dante Cruz
(the hunky exchange student) respectively. But he never got over
Andrew Alleyn, which was, of course, still number one. You can ask
anybody in school (except me, I think I might have voted for Jason,
who's at five).
    Anyway, football season's coming up and
everyone (and I do mean everyone) is really excited. There are
banners on the wall already, stickers (despite prohibition by the
student council) on locker doors and more practice than ever
before. That could only mean more work for me, Kit Sherlock, as a
cheerleader.
    I opened my locker and I was greeted by
that familiar sight of books and schoolwork. I had my books
arranged by subject and alphabetically, although sometimes, just
for fun, I would arrange them in reverse alphabetical order. You
know, just to make things a little edgier and chaotic. I felt a
gentle tap on my shoulder. I closed my locker and faced the person
who just tapped me. I was now face to face with Hottest Guy in
Greenvale number two: Bruce Benet. He's not even hot at all. He was
just this more-than-six-feet-who-likes-to-terrorize-people kind of
guy. I don't even know why girls swoon as they talk quietly about
his six packs. Don't they even find that, I don't know,
disgusting?
    Anyway, he was looking at me with
intense expression. I stared at him not unkindly but with the same
power. Moments later, he dropped his gaze and sighed.
    "I came here to apologize about what
happened the night at Tara's." he mumbled. I cannot believe a large
guy like him was this much of a coward. Jon Dover was just
five-feet-four but he looks me in the eye and talks clearly when he
apologizes for late report. And to think this guy in front of me
has always bullied Jon since middle school. Go figure.
    Good for him I just got an A plus from
World Politics that I'm in a good mood for accepting apologies. I
looked up at him. "It's fine. You're drunk. I guess the pressure of
winning the championships got the better of you." It's that or the
beer got the better of him.
    He has to smile at that. You may not
realize this at first, but I've noticed that football players were
sensitive to football issues. They're really proud of what they're
doing. I don't even think they're just playing ball just so they
could bully smaller people, but so they could finally be accepted
for what they're good at. It brings a frown to my face when people
demoralize those who're just doing what they're good at or doing
what they like to do. But me, I don't care what people think of me.
I guess that's what made me public enemy number one.
    "So," he said after a while, "will you
be going to the bonfire?"
    The campfire, for your information, is
a yearly event usually preceding the state championships. It takes
place in the woods near the field and at night. It usually lasts
until morning. The bonfire night, not to be confused with Bonfire
Night which celebrates the anniversary in which Guy Fawkes'
Gunpowder plot was discovered in 1605, is open to all interested. I
never had the chance to attend a bonfire night because I was never
interested. Maybe I'll make an exception this time; after all, I am
a cheerleader.
    I nodded enthusiastically.