Dear Chesca,
I know that this day isn’t one of your best days. Maybe even one of your worse.
This afternoon while on P.E. , you played volleyball. You didn’t want to join the team but they forced you to. You walked towards them with a pair of heavy feet, stomped around like you’re frigging Godzilla, which was kind of adorable.
You said you weren’t good at sports but didn’t listen to you. You frowned and protested but it waas too late. You were ‘in’ and the game started. When the other team tossed the ball, you almost got it in the head yet you dodged it. You smiled, probably feeling luck and pro, dodging that kinda big ball. But our P.E. teacher, Mr. Dig was unhappy. He yelled at you because he wanted to see you play volleball, not dodgeball. You walked away because he clearly embarrassed you, telling how lame you are and that you need to eat more carbs and veggies. But as you walked away, you didn’t saw that puddle of water in that slidy part, making you slip and fall on your butt.Of course, everyone laughed at you, including your fake carrot friend.
I tried to help you but your tears seemed to cloud your vision. You didn’t see me lending a hand. Youneverseeme. You ran as fast as you could, not looking back. I heard Mr. Dig say, ‘What a loser.’
That jerk is totally paying for that. I swear. Watch me.
-Jet
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A/N next chapter is longer. :]
