A Heroâs Life for Me
You know what sucks? Life. Know what sucks worse? Tell me, because I havenât found anything yet. Life really started to suck for me in sixth grade, on a field trip that was supposed to be fun. Things started to go bad on the lunch break.
âYou know, we should help them,â Cara bit into her sandwich promptly after whispering that to me. We were sitting together at the top of the Metropolitan Museum of Artâs staircase.
Cara was staring, a sarcastic smile on her face, at Jackson and Grover. She usually was nowadays. âWant me to do it?â I had to ask, since Cara is the leader of a small gang that, technically, Iâm a member of. Â We bully the bullies. It doesnât solve the problem, but it helps in some cases. One such case was Nancy; a rather unkind girl who seems to love messing with Jackson.
âOh no, get me down there,â she stuffed the last bit of sandwich into her mouth. Â Another thing about Cara: she has a leg problem. I donât ever remember the name of what sheâs got, but it hurts her to walk. So, she has a wheelchair. Donât let that fool you though, sheâs vicious. Not to mention she has a gang of about twenty people marching to the beat of her drum.
I started to wheel her up the handicap ramp, she said hello to our Latin teacher, who was also in a wheelchair. He was reading a book, as per usual, and was very focused on it. At the bottom of the ramp, I quit pushing the chair. I didnât know what she was going to do, but I knew that she didnât need my help. Sheâs very independent.
Oh boy was I unprepared for what she was going to do.
I could see Jackson getting mad. The kid looks dangerous, Iâll admit. Thereâs something unnerving about his eyes that other people donât seem to notice. This twerp Nancy couldnât be bothered to notice danger if it bit her. Not even Cara, building up speed across the sidewalk, shaping up to hit her.
By the way, my name is Thorne.


















