Today was my first day at Clifford Elementary. It started off dreadfully, but by the end of the day I was as happy as the smiling sun I drew in art class. It all started as I crossed from math class to social studies and Buddy—yes that really is his name—stuck out his pudgy little foot that promptly sent me crashing to the floor.

Now I’m only a 3rd grader, so the stack of books that went clattering to the floor was not a very large one, but the mess was big enough to draw the attention and snickers of the people in the immediate area. I scrambled to my feet, praying that I wasn’t blushing, but apparently I was because the looks and chuckles continued. I began to pick up my books, which was a very difficult task because Buddy was kicking my books to the far corners of the hallway.

After I finally collected by books—now sadly out of chronological order—I hurried towards my next class, muttering more to myself than to anybody else, “Stupidhead.” A hush spread frighteningly fast around the hallway. Please tell me he didn’t hear. Please tell me he didn’t hear! But he heard. “What’d ya say?” called Buddy, slurring his words like any kid who’s flunking English would. I kept walking. Social Studies was only a few feet away! But then I heard the thunderous footsteps of Buddy and felt his stubby fingers on my shoulder.

“Hey, I’m talkin’ to ya!” Buddy spun me around and looked me straight in the eye. Our faces were so close our noses almost touched. His brow jutted out a bit, so his eyes looked like those of a crab peeking up from under a rock. A very angry crab. The crowd held its breath. “Wha di ya say?” he repeated the words slowly, probably to emphasize his point, but only

succeeded in sounding more like a stupidhead. “I-I said,” I gulped. I was so afraid he was going to sock me. “I said th-that you’re a...”

My last word was drowned by a metallic ring, signaling the beginning of class. Saved by the bell . . . Literally. Buddy looked momentarily perturbed; the bell had dashed his plans, but he quickly improvised. “You an’ me,” he said jabbing first me in the chest and then himself. “After school, out back.” The crowd of onlookers gave a collective “oooooh”, and then hurried to their classes. As I moped, downcast, towards Social Studies I could feel the fear bubbling up inside me like lava, like what happens in volcanoes when they build enough air pressure. I learned that in Science.

The bell rang again, but this time it was signaling my doom. I exited Spanish, and began to trudge towards the back of the school. Well I couldn’t very well just chicken out, could I? I know I’m kind of shrimpy, but I still have my dignity. Besides, Buddy would probably give me twice the beating the next day if I didn’t show. A small group gathered behind me, whispering intently. They followed me out the door and onto the patio of the school’s back, where Buddy was waiting, a bloodthirsty look upon his face.

A flagpole stood next to me, where previously a flag had fluttered at its tip. But the flag had been lowered by a winch connected to the side of the flagpole, where it was taken inside for the day by one of the more helpful students. The clips that had held the flag jangled noisily near the bottom of the flagpole.

The sun beat down upon my neck, and beads of sweat were popping up on my brow. But it wasn’t from the heat. A broad grin spread across Buddy’s face, and he growled “Ready ta be creamed?” I’m going to die. There’s no doubt about it, I’m going to die. Buddy howled like a wild hippo and lunged at me, fists raised. “I’m going to die!” I screamed and ducked at the last second, unleashing the white-hot fury of the sun onto Buddy’s piggy little eyes.

He shrieked in agony, the brightness temporarily blinding him. He swung wildly at the air, and crashed headfirst into the flagpole, he yowled even louder, and spun round like a ballerina. The flag clips latched onto the loops on his pants. People began to laugh. I bolted. I was so intent on escaping Buddy’s wrath that I crashed headlong into the winch. As I crashed to the ground the winch spun round and round, jerking Buddy’s flailing form higher and higher into the air. It finally clanked to a stop. By this time everyone was in tears they were laughing so hard, some were even rolling around on the floor. “Get me down! Get me down you poopieheads!” Buddy screamed but to no avail. You know what? Maybe I will die after all . . . but only from laughing.