Monday Morning Blitz

CHAPTER 1 "What's that thing on your face?" Keith asked me. I took a shot in the dark. "My nose?" "No," Keith said. "That other thing." I hadn't had time to look in the mirror this morning, so I had no idea what hewas talking about. "What other thing?" "The 'other thing' that looks like you're trying to grow an other nose on yourforehead." I reached up and touched my forehead, feeling around. Oh, no! I knew it the minute my fingers hit the large bump. I had a pimple. Abig pimple. Ahugepimple, really. I had a zit the size of Mount Fuji.Great. "How could you not notice that, Al?" Keith asked. "I didn't look in the mirror this morning," I said as I leaned close to Keithto catch my reflection in his glasses. "Yeah, I get that now," he said as he pushed me away. "You didn't brush yourteeth either. Did you?!" I huffed into my cupped hand and sniffed it. "No. Sorry." Keith shrugged. "I only have one word for you. Breath mint!" "That's two words," I said, trying not to show that I was embarrassed. Keith handed me an orange Tic Tac. "Have any cinnamon?" I asked. He pushed my hand with the Tic Tac to my face. "No. I don't. Do Ilooklike a candy store?" he asked. "Just eat it, Al. Take my word. You need it." "But I'm not a big fan of orange," I said truthfully. "I'm not a big fan of your stinky breath. Just eat the thing." I popped it in my mouth. It didn't taste that bad. It didn't taste that good,either. But that's only because I just don't like orange flavor. I think itgoes back to when I was a kid. Every time I got sick, my mom would give me thisgross orange-flavored medicine. I gagged on it every time and used to wonderwhat was worse: the cold or the cure. "Hey, get a load of that," Keith said, pointing to a man running down thestreet. He was heading our way. Fast. If he were wearing sweats, it wouldn't have looked so funny. But he was wearinga suit and tie and shiny black shoes. I could see their shine all the way fromwhere I stood, so theyhadto be really shiny. "You think he's running to something, or runningawayfrom something?" Iasked aloud. I hadn't expected an answer, I was just thinking out loud. I do that a lot. You know, talk to myself. I call it "thinking out loud" becausethat sounds better than saying I'm a nutcase who talks to himself. The guy was running toward us as if his life depended upon it. He was about fivefeet away when he looked over his shoulder. Keith and I tried to get out of his way and moved over, but he wasn't lookingforward. That would explain why he crashed right into me -- knocking me over. I landed on my backpack, and one of my books stabbed me in the ribs. "Ow!" Icried out. "Why don't you look where you're going?" Keith said to the guy. I doubt he heard Keith because the man was already halfway down the block. Buthe did look back quickly, wave, and call out, "Sorry!" I got up and was just straightening out my jacket when I felt a lump in mypocket. It was probably my rib. I was too afraid to find out. I'm not too keenon blood, especially when it's my own. I don't mind seeing blood in the movies. That's pretty cool. Plus, everyoneknows it's just ketchup or something. But real blood? Let's just say my firmC-minus average wasn't the only thing keeping me from medical school. "That really hurt," I said to Keith. I was trying not to think about the ribpoking through my skin at an odd angle. I couldn't even look to see if blood waspouring out of me. I figured if it was, someone would let me know sooner orlater. The bus pulled up, and we grabbed our stuff to get on. If we didn't get on thebus fast enough, Mrs. Sewers, the bus driver, took off without us. "Oh man, thLeonard, Elise is the author of 'Monday Morning Blitz ', published 2007 under ISBN 9781416934646 and ISBN 1416934642.