John glanced at Charles. What was he thinking? An hour ago John would’ve thought something snarky, but now? He had been working on his latest project, using his slingshot to hit Barry, a bully, on the back of the head with a twig. He didn’t want to hurt Barry, but if he did he could tell his mom what she didn’t know, what Barry had been doing to him. But it hadn’t worked, he had gotten in trouble for the way he had “handled it.” Now his mom had her hands on Charles’ shoulders, but he didn’t mind as much. He Barry, and Charles had been stuck in the class room while their Teacher and the Princable talked about what to do with them.
“Why’d you do it?” Asked Charles.
“‘Cause, they like you better.” I looked at the desk.
“Because I’m so good?”
“Guess so.”
“I’m only pretending ’cause I want Mom to like me.” I glanced at him. He was looking at me.
“Me too.” Piped in Barry. We both looked at him in surprise. “It’s the only time my Dad pays attention to me.” He admitted. “Sorry.” He said, studying his beat up black Nikes.
John didn’t know what to think. But they still hadn’t solved their problems. Now he stood next to his teacher and princable, taking a family picture. Oh well, at least he had friends.