When I entered middle school I hoped that everything would start fresh and new. Unfortunately, I got into a fight within the first week of school with a boy named Sam. Sam was much taller and heavier than me. I got in his way and that’s when it started. I swung my arms aiming towards his stomach. In the corner of my sweaty fearful eyes, I saw people running and yelling FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT! I hit Sam right in the nose and blood splattered like drops of rain. People were gagging and squealing. The next thing I noticed was being pulled up by my wet sweaty shirt. It was Principal Steve. He tried to use his man voice, but it failed. “Anything wrong here?” My head dropped and I felt nauseated. I felt so sick, I ran to the nearest trash can and vomited. I wiped my blood and puke splattered on my shirt. Then I went over to the water fountain and took some slurps of the warm water. I swished it around in my mouth before I spat it out.
When we got to the principal’s office, the only thing going through my head was that I didn’t want my parents to find out. Life at home was already hard enough and frustrating and this is one thing I didn’t need added to the situation. What had I done? Thirty minutes later both of my parents came in looking mad at me. I just tilted my





head down and hoped they wouldn’t see me. I didn’t want to go home. Sam and I both were suspended for the rest of the week.
My mom told me to get in the car and we went home. She started to lecture me and told me I caused too much trouble. She accused me of flunking school because of the people I hung out with. She finally stopped talking. I tried to talk to her, but she just told me to be quiet and then she ignored me.
When we got home she told me to go straight to my room. I had lost my computer and TV privileges. All I did was homework and went to bed thinking of all that went on that day. I asked myself if there was something I could have changed. I dozed off for a bit. The next thing I heard was my mom yelling at me to come to dinner with that annoying voice of hers. I just whined and slowly went to the kitchen dragging my feet like a zombie. My mom and I didn’t talk until after dinner.
My mom wanted to sit on the couch to listen to what I had to say. She did agree on some things like Sam was one that started the fight and that I was defending myself. The only thing she thought I should have done was talked instead of using my fists. That’s a mom thing: they think they know what’s best for us kids. I ended up being grounded for the rest of the week and the weekend from any actives. She allowed my friend Ty to stop by the house after school and to give me my homework, and tell me all the stupid and funny rumors about the fight that happened between Sam and I.
This is one childhood memory I would want to forget and if I were to have kids someday I would never want this to happen to them.