W.S.S.H.

Karate Kid

"Where were you?" he asked.

"I had to finish a project for History." I lied.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't leave the classroom and didn't know I had to stay until after the class." I pointed out. Greg sighed, but there was no way he could argue about that.

"What's going on with you these days?" he asked.

"School, homework, don't you have a lot too?"

"No John, I don't, and we pretty much have the same classes."

"Well you're lucky then." I sighed, sitting in the chair and stuffing the book into my desk.

"Ever since we started this school year you've been a lot more distant, we used to spend every free minute together." Greg pointed out.

"I just told you I have no free minutes anymore."

"Fair enough, how about tomorrow, do you want to come over?"

"Don't we have school?" I asked.

"It's Saturday idiot!" Greg pointed out. I had totally lost track of the days of the week.

"Um, no, my grandma is in the hospital, we need to visit her." I said off the top of my head.

"Your grandma died, I remember the funeral."

"The other one."

"She's perfectly fine, the other day your mom said she was in Mexico."

"She was attacked." I lied.

"Is there something I did to offend you in anyway?"

"No."

"Then why are you avoiding me?" Greg asked.

"I'm not avoiding you, my grandma was shot in Mexico."

"That's the most rubbish story I've ever heard."

"Well so sorry but it's true." I rolled my eyes, looking up to the white board as Mrs. Fletcher started the class. The rest of the day was pretty much crap, when the final bell finally rang I grabbed the book and made a beeline to my locker. Greg hadn't talked to me for the rest of class, I guess he was really taking the whole avoiding thing hard, but I didn't care. He was a minor character in my life now, as was every other living person. I was walking as fast as I could, pretty much disoriented as I wove through the crowds. I was almost at my locker when a bunch of football players, all in their varsity jackets, came trampling down the hall in preparation for practice or something. One of them elbowed me into the wall, whether on accident or not, and the book flew out of my hand and got stepped on by one of their big, muddy cleats. And I completely lost it. Rage flooded me, all that rage that I had built up for my dad, Harry, teachers, and Greg, it all came thundering out in an unstoppable stampede. I grabbed the book from the floor and ran at the one who had knocked it out of my hands, jumping onto him and knocking him to the ground with a scream of furry. Obviously no one saw that coming, and even the big footballers were surprised when some 100 pound kid just tackled their biggest player. It took the whole lot of them off of me, the players and some staff who present. I kept swinging though, at the air, at my captors, I didn't care anymore, this entire world was rubbish and there was nothing I could possibly mess up on anymore. Grades didn't matter, health didn't matter, Sherlock mattered, Sherlock and his angel soft lips and his curly raven hair, and the only thing I had to do was bring him to my world to be together forever. The entire hallway was a dam now; I had kicked Mrs. Fletcher in the gut (an extra bonus) and punched the football captain. A large, blinding pain to my head stopped my attacks, whoever had delivered it had wicked strength because the world was fading out into blackness. They dropped me to the floor, the world spinning and their faces getting blurry. But there was a smile on my face, a wicked smile on my face for some reason, and my arms clutched the musty leather book as the darkness took over.