CHAOS

GREG:

It aches. My head hurts. The aftermath of yesterday’s school turmoil kept me bedridden and contemplating the prospect of school until 7:17 a.m.

At this hour, Mum and Dad would be out of the house, and Rose would be on her preparation and likely to leave the house before me.

Unfazed by my potential lateness or that I may be keeping Mr. Sam at the bus stop, I placed my primary concern on the situation at school.

It is sickening to indulge in a fight, but I do not regret defending myself, and that part feels brave.

Larozo has always been a pest to everyone at school. His persistent animosity and troubles weren’t surprising, but involving Faruk, the half-African boy, was unexpected.

Faruk joined Larozo in attacking me, hurling insults and ordering me out of the shower room, and expecting I heed them out of fear.

Not in my afterlife. Why would I leave the shower room when I haven’t gotten the chance to strip after the hectic Gymnastics class? Why should I do so on their command?

“I do