I Beat Up a Boy for My Own Betterment

Everything came to a head. I fought back. Literally.

Photo by Timothy Eberly via Unsplash

Adding to the mess was that I had super weird, coarse, Italian girl hair. If I wanted it to go right, it went left. If I wanted to go up, it went down.

Still, it’s a really sad existence when you have to bribe people to be your friend with potato chips.

Photo by Jeremy Thomas via Unsplash

His name didn’t matter at that moment. He was every single boy. He didn’t have to have a face or a name. He was all of my rage.

I sat on him and started wailing on him like I was Scout Finch if she had actually been bitten by that rabid dog coming down the street.

Photo by Pablo Soriano via Unsplash

There were rumors that the principal had not only a wood paddle, but one with holes drilled into it so that air would pass through it more quickly.

My dad sat down. I looked around for the oar of doom.

Oh God…. Photo via Shutterstock

No one had swatted me. I didn’t get suspended. I didn’t have to spend time in detention. I didn’t even have to bang erasers together after school outside teachers classrooms. Life just went on.

Flaming pinball, nerd, music lover, wine snob, horrible violin player. No, I won’t stop taking pictures of my drinks. vanessaltorre@gmail.com IG: vanessaltorre

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