Boy Number Three: The Boy Who Fought For Me I met Boy Number Three when he was in a fight with someone.
It was a heated brawl, and one that the director of student affairs just happened to catch. So the two parties involved were both sent down to the office. His face looked angry coming out of the office. He pounded the wall with his fist as I walked by, and we exchanged glances.
“What happened?” I asked.
“I’m getting recorded for a major demerit,” he said along with some swear words.
“Your b.u.t.ton’s falling off.” I pointed to his chest, where all the b.u.t.tons on his shirt were ripped off, except for two, that were barely clinging on.
“To h.e.l.l with the b.u.t.tons!” He swore again and pounded the wall.
I walked into the office of student affairs to talk terms with the director. Asking the director not to record him for a major demerit, and in exchange for that, I would be willing to partic.i.p.ate in some revolting speech compet.i.tion for the school.
“And if I don’t agree?” The director asked.
“Then tomorrow during the compet.i.tion, I’ll faint at the five-minute mark,” I replied.
“Are you blackmailing me?”
“I’m under a lot of pressure lately, so I always feel like fainting,” I answered.
“If you win first place tomorrow during the compet.i.tion, then I’ll expunge the major demerit record,” said the director.
“And the minor demerits as well,” I added.
“Fine, minor demerits as well.”
On the second day, I headed off to the compet.i.tion and won first place. Afterward, I returned to school to give the dreadfully hideous trophy to the office of student affairs.
Then on the third day, he came looking for me. “How did you do it?” He asked.
I shrugged.
“How did you manage to get rid of my major demerit?” He asked again, this time with some swearing.
“I just didn’t faint,” I replied.
“Yo! How do you want me to repay you?” He grabbed me by my shoulders and shook me.
“Fight for me next time,” I suggested.
After that, he fought for me more than once.