boys / life / memory / writing

Fighting and Other Good Girl Things

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I attended Catholic school for three years. Honestly, I liked it. I liked most of the nuns (not all to be sure), and I ran around the playground with the boys. I fought back if anyone bothered me. I made good grades.

In 2nd grade, a boy kept poking me with a pen. I told him to stop. He kept doing it. I told him to stop or he’d be sorry. He poked me again. I punched him in the nose. I got into trouble.

In the 3rd grade, a boy kept touching me, putting his arm around me and asking for a kiss. I didn’t like it, so I climbed to the top of the monkey bars to get away from him. He never climbed the monkey bars. He got angry and tried to pull me off, so I kicked him in the stomach. I got into a lot more trouble that time.

In the 6th grade in public school, my step-sister stole the comb of a boy on the bus. He chased us. I ran with her because she was my step-sister and I didn’t like the boy. He called me names in English class. My step-sister and I split up, and the boy followed me, thinking I had the comb, I guess. Cramps exploded in my side. I had to stop to catch my breath. So, the boy caught me. He pinned me against a wall and lifted his arm as if he were going to punch me. I slapped him as hard as I could. A teacher saw and sent me to the office.

I didn’t think of myself as a violent child.

By the time high school rolled around, however, I stopped kicking or hitting. I just avoided trouble.

The story I’m working on is about a girl who fights back and gets into trouble. But she keeps fighting.

Did you ever get into fights in school? What happened?

2 thoughts on “Fighting and Other Good Girl Things

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