I Wasn't Bad

I was provoked.

That's always been my story and I'm still sticking to it. Only somehow I've never needed to tell it to anyone.

I have boobs. No big surprise there. You've heard about them before. I've always had boobs. Again, not a shocker. I'm sure you could have figured out that I developed early.

As you know, seventh grade boys are stupid. One day, walking to class one exceptionally stupid boy attempted to cop a feel as he so often did. I'd had enough so I turned around, intending to swat him, with my hand already raised, okay, and clenched. Only problem was the little bastard really was little. His nose just happened to align itself perfectly with my fist.

I stopped, he didn't. Ah, getting the picture, are you? Yes, it was broken. He spent all of, I think it was music class, hiding in the bathroom, trying to stop the bleeding and straighten it back out. Between the next two classes, he changed into his gym t-shirt. Had two black eyes for a week.

I'm not sure why, but the few people who knew the real story of what happened to him never told so I didn't get suspended. The music teacher was unconscious and didn't notice he wasn't in class so he didn't get detention. His parents believed whatever lame story he came up with, I think it was something about getting hit by a basketball at lunchtime.

The stupid boy at least had enough sense to keep his hands to himself after that. In fact, he was a little afraid of me from then on. Don't see why. All I did was turn around. It wasn't my fault he was even shorter than I was.

No blog tomorrow. Eva May and I are off on another adventure. I'll tell you all about it Wednesday.