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Sometimes I get philosophical when I'm dealing with the jocks, especially when I'm holding one of them by the ankles, suspending them over a toilet. This is what my dad calls a "swirly", but seeing as how he's old I can't hold it against him for knowing such a corny name. Anyway, the reason for my getting all Socrates-like is this: a bully is someone who preys on those who are weaker, right? Well seeing as how I'm preying on the bullies who think they can pick on my friends, does that make me a bully? I don't think so, and neither do my friends. Maybe I'll take a class on it when I go to college. because questions like that one makes me think.

As I started to lower the jock to apply the famous swirly to his hair, he had the gall to put his hands on the rim of the toilet. "You better let me go, Welder!" the jock said, which led me to wonder why in hell people think using someone's last name is more effective than their first. Whatever. I moved one hand from his ankle to his head, pushing it down under the water. He put up a pretty good struggle, no surprise there, and I had to grab both his ankles so he wouldn't boot me on the head. He was thrashing around pretty good, so I kept him under for a few more seconds before I flushed the toilet. The sputtering sounds that came from his lips were music to my ears.

I lowered his legs about halfway down towards the floor then just released them, and I took a step back to enjoy the ballet of awkward flailing of feet as he struggled to regain his footing. It was hard to believe this clumsy waterlogged Neanderthal was our so-called star quarterback. Then again, I guess I could believe it since I turned down the coach's offer to join the team. Wouldn't have been fair anyway, since I have advantages no one else has in our school.

When Manny--the star quarterback--finally stood up to face me, bangs dripping over his hate-filled eyes, I was calmly leaned up against the bathroom sink, arms folded across my chest. I knew Manny wanted to kick my ass, but I also knew he wasn't about to try. Manny, like all bullies in Trinity High School, was scared of me. If he'd known I was there when he was picking on my Algebra tutor, he'd have left him alone. But Manny didn't know, and that's why he had a soaked head.

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