Chapter 5: Part of the Truth
381 Words
I got into a fight once.
This was back in middle school. Now, most of the fights I've gotten into were either verbal or confrontational- meaning that they got physical.
In 6th grade, I became friends with Adofo. He was from South Africa and he eased into being everyone's friend- to a certain extent. He was quite polite, but he could get easily tempered if you messed with him.
One predicament that I and he got into was outside the soccer field in middle school. He had heard a rumor that I said his sister was a slut and he got... VERY MAD.
He came over to me and pushed me down to the ground. Confused, I had stood up and he began to prowl towards me in a very intimidating way. I can recall how fiercely he looked at me.
Before he swung at me, I dodged it and had run across the field quickly. He was quickly pacing behind me at a rapid pace of speed.
Looking back now, I guess I regret saying that stereotype about how Africans are fast runners.
Once he had gotten close enough, he tried to tackle me, but the teachers quickly stopped him.
When I returned home that day, my family had heard of the incident and asked why I didn't "fight" back. I was sure that they already knew the reason why I didn't fight with him. They should've known.
That day kinda taught me a lesson. Never listen to my family when they tell me to fight another person. I don't care if that makes me less of a man, I'm not doing it.
For an objective reason, I don't like interacting with other people. I wasn't one to predict what their intentions were towards me but I never questioned it.
I never wanted to talk to people and most of the time, they've never wanted to talk to me.
I understand this as a rude approach to some people that know me, but I couldn't care less about what they think.
I couldn't care less what you think.
Author's Note: Hey, me again. Sorry this chapter was so short. I didn't really have much to include for this one but the other chapters will have enough dialogue, I assure you.
- Writer
