Everyone seemed to forget that all he was only a frail 12 year old boy like everyone else in the seventh grade. He was nothing special, nothing to fear. And yet no one dared to look him in the eye as he roamed the halls furbished with terra-cotta bricks.
Except for you.
Subconsciously everyone gazed onward to your mass.
What have you done?
He stared your down, his eyes never leaving yours, as a sticattoed sound erupted from his two fingers. After merely hearing his snap two goon-like boys of large stature stood behind him. Assumingely eight graders.
Not a word was said between the two of you. All communication held physically. A hand held to shake meaning respect. A slight questioning tilt to the head meaning an alleyway of escape from impending doom. And a colliding fist meaning punishment for your impertinence.
For the first time in Monte Junior High's history your would receive all three of these things in the simple timespan of 15 minutes.
The question onlooking students were wondering, which came first?
BINABASA MO ANG
C O O L G U Y S
Short StoryWhy are the cool guys so cool? What makes them so intimidating? Why is everyone afraid of them? You find out.
