Dedicated toelder_ghost and Betawolf1221

My dad once said that I looked like a bull when I run or am angry.
I know that I breathe heavily when I'm angry. And after chasing Monanika for probably 100 metres, well you can just imagine.

Luckily for me, Ika had shorter legs, Ha!, so I was slowly catching up. Slowly, but surely.

As I was about to grab her shirt, when I tripped, over my own feet. My own feet betrayed me.

“See, I know how to make girls fall for me.” So my feet didn't betray me. Brandon Egan did. Well it didn't matter, because either way I was going to get revenge.

As Jack made his vulgar ‘statement’, “I bet you 20 that I can make make her fall 2 times harder,” I got up.

“She didn't fall for you. You tripped her. ” Sebastian said very bluntly.

Then there was an awkward silence.

I grinned like a madman getting bitter sweet revenge. To say they looked scared would be an understatement, so you can just imagine. Jackson took a slow step back; switching his eye contact between Sebastian and me. Sebastian's eyes were as wide as pizzas (What?!I'm hungry! And I don't know what saucers are. Don't judge)

My smile widened as I grabbed (the  jerk who tripped me) Brandon's arm kicked his shin like the secret soccer stars I watched. Like the powerful jock he was, he scram! Loud. The kinda of ear splitting scream that a baby does when a person drops them. 

The other immediately abandoned (or as I like to say ‘A-Brandoned’) him and took off running away. I started to walk off when…

Mr Walea boomed behind me, “Miss Stanton, what exactly are you doing?”

*
I never liked the nurses office. There was a depressing atmosphere in there and I never had a passion of medicine so I wasn't a fan.

But I did not go there to stare at the label and think off all the reasons of why I hate the nurses office. I was there to apologise.

Mr Walea gave me a slap on the wrist compared to what Mr Walea usually gives other people. He was the strictest teacher in the school who also taught me. All I had to do was apologise to jerk and I was free to go home.

‘The perks of being a nerd’ I smiled. I could hear the voices of the boys inside so they were there. I looked to the left and to the right before getting inside.

The look on their faces would have made me laugh if Mr Walea wasn't there. So I took a deep breath and smiled apologetically.

“I would like to be frank and sincere. Mr Egan, Mr Abbott and Mr Malcolm, I would like to apologise for putting you through the horrendous trauma. Please forgive me.”

“And what if we don't accept?” Sebastian asked.

“Mr Abbott, let's not make this any harder than it should be. I believe that Miss Stanton was provoked to do  what she did.Let us say you don't accept, you will go to detention and be suspended from your sporty activities.”

Sebastian's jaw dropped, Brandon's eyes popped out of their sockets and Jackson air got knocked out of him. Long story short, they were shocked. Secretly I was too, but the look on their faces was so satisfying that I pretended to be prepared.

“The same goes for Miss Stanton and whatever activities she participates in. So what will it be?”

“We forgive you and sorry too,” Brandon immediately responded.

I nodded satisfied before replying a thank you. Mr Walea was probably satisfied and walked away. So I stared at them for a short while with an fake apologetical look. They all looked at me like they were expecting something.

I shot them a mischievous grin before turning around and walking away into my freedom. FREEDOM!

‘So much for freedom,’ I thought as I stared at the sink full of dirty plates. Freedom clearly didn't choose my side. I grabbed sponge and dishwasher soap, my weapons. I was going into a dangerous war, maybe I wouldn't come out of it alive but I had to try. If not me, then who else.

My first enemy came at me with a powerful blow, I blocked it with my sponge, attacked it with my soap. It left a messy mark, a soap stain on my shirt.

I barely had enough time to recover before enemies started pouring out towards me. Every time they attacked they left a soapy mark. A mark of pain, a mark of sacrifice.

Of course when there's a war as ‘serious’ as you aren't going to notice your dad walk into the kitchen with a disappointed look on his face.

“Phew phew. Boom… argh, no! Phew, blue plate, I've always loved you! No! It's dead, no! Boom! Someone stop the Plate-Washer, she's washing all of us. Ah!!! Boom, some…”

“Ahem!” I turned and looked at my dad.

“Heyyy dad,” I tried to hide my embarrassment. “What's up?”

Before he could say anything, my mom came out. I finally knew what my dad saw when he called me a “Huffing bull”