Please note, I've posted a revision to the earlier chapter, with significant changes, and there are significant changes in this one, too.

“Now Jackson, I’m aware of what happened with Ned, and all I can say is, don’t let it bother you, son. Be a tough guy, don’t let him get to you. Now, I’m sure you are a bit upset over that, and I’m willing to help you work off some of that weight. Just let me know if I can help. Now, we’re playing dodge ball today, get out there and show them what you got!” says Coach.

Gee, all I can think is ‘real helpful Coach, about as helpful as a rubber crutch’. I wish we would get a real PE teacher, not an ex-Marine Coach who was fired from the high school for losing every game two seasons straight. And I'm really tired of hearing him say "now" in just about every other sentence!

In case you’ve never played, here is Dodgeball in a nutshell. Two groups of players line up facing each other, and you throw hard rubber balls at each other. If you hit someone and they don’t catch the ball, they are out. Last team with someone not out wins. I’m doomed. There is talk about banning Dodgeball, but as of February, 1982, it hasn’t happened yet. I wonder if I can start an emergency petition and save myself?

As soon as we get lined up, Ned points at me, and says “Hey, don’t you belong in girl’s PE? They don’t play dodgeball in girl’s PE.” Just about everyone laughs at that, with Coach laughing the hardest.

“Noodle-arm Ned, do your worst!” I foolishly reply, trying to get him to shut up, and then I desperately try to hide behind someone else. Ned, I’m glad to say, has terrible aim since his grenade launcher arm would probably take off my head, and misses everyone. I’m soon ducking balls, practically spinning in place to avoid them since two of Ned’s Nasty Nephews are on my team and they are not even trying to hit the other team. I’m glad there are only 4 balls to use, we used to have 6!

You know what’s coming, I’m sure, do you really need to hear the gory details? You do? But… But… But…, oh all right, if you must.

George, Ned’s Nasty Nephew #1 (which isn't really his name, he just looks like Gorgeous George, you know, the wrestler?) is chasing me around while I’m ducking the other team’s throws. I get cornered against the wall, and - I’m actually not exaggerating this time - I’m running so hard to avoid them that, as they hit me, I run into the wall nose first and knock myself out.

I wake up in the nurse’s office, and find myself with several girls clustered around me. One says, “Hey Jackie, what happened to you?” Another one chimes in, “Do you need me to get you a new blouse, I’m afraid you got blood on this one, and girl, your hair is a mess…” I jump up screaming,

“What do you mean I got blood all over my blouse? Oh god, I need some cold water and…” I scream again...

I get up screaming (sort of), “I’mb dot bwearing a bwouse….” Trailing off I now awkwardly whisper through my bloody nose, “Id’s called a chirt.” Thankfully, no one is in here to hear me, as the nurse comes back in carrying some towels.

“I heard you yell, are you alright?” asks Nurse Lisa. “Did I hear you say something about turning blue? Oh my, Jackson, you are bleeding again, try and be still and quiet, I've got some cotton for your nose.”

“Oh gay.”

“Now hold still Jackson, I need to clean you up some, you’ve got blood all in your hair, don't worry, I’ve called your Mom to come get you, there is no way I’m letting you walk home like this, you know you have some really nice hair, so long and blond.” If she would stop talking so fast, maybe I could understand her? When does she breathe? Her Italian accent doesn't help, either.

She pulls me over to the sink, sits me down and starts washing my hair, she's woman-handling me like I'm a goat trying to escape and I'm squirming like an eel. Ewww, she’s using that medicated anti-bacterial soap meant for cleaning out wounds, you know, the red stuff. You don’t? You really don’t want to know what this is like, I promise, and you can’t begin to believe how it stinks, I swear it must be made with fermented yak innards, rubbing alcohol, stewed prunes and horse manure. Can you die from a smell? Stay tuned, campers, you just might find out!

The door to the nurse's office opens, but I can’t see who is there for the soap, so I ask hopefully, “Mom?”

“No Jackson, it is Principal Williams. I heard you had a little accident? I was able to find a shirt for you from the lost and found, it was the only one that I think would fit you, as tiny as you are.”

Thank God, she is one of the only two people in this school who know about my past health problems, and why I am shorter and, in spite of my weight gain, still skinnier than any of the fourth graders, much less the kids my age. Since you don’t know, I should explain, I was born with a blood disease that didn’t get caught until I was nearly 6, and it severely stunted my growth. I’m cured now, but they don’t know if I’m ever going to catch up to the other kids my age.

“I’ll take over Miss Cambria, Jackson is a child I’ve gotten to know quite well over the years. I think he would be more comfortable with me, he really isn’t very comfortable with adults he doesn’t know, that's probably why he is squirming so. I have the Vice-principal ready to see the kids out, and he could use your help with parents,” she says as she rinses out my hair.

Just as the nurse left, I hear an even more welcome voice, “Principal Williams, do you know if Jackson came into the office or something? I was waiting to walk home with him, and…”

“Yes, Deanna, he’s right here getting his hair washed. He is okay, but he got hurt playing Dodgeb….”

“Jackson!!!!” Deanna shrills. “What happened? Are you dizzy, can I do anything to help, are you having any trouble breathing, where’s the nurse? He should have his asthma medicine, in case he isn’t breathing well…”

“Deannda, I’mb oh gay, jutht a bloody dose dow,” I strangle out.

“Principal Williams, he can’t walk home like this, but I can carry him home again…”

“What do you mean, carry him home again, Deanna?" the Principal interrupts. "I don’t think any student has ever been carried home from this school by another student, and I know it hasn’t happened since I started here.”

“Well, he got hit in the head last summer when a tetherball pole cemented into a tire got bent over, and when it popped back up, it hit him and cut him above his eye. I carried him to my house so my mom could get him some help,” explains Deanna.

“Not to worry Deanna, his mom is on the way.”

So now, I’ve got cotton stuffed up my nose, I’m soaking wet and my head feels like Magic Johnson has been dribbling it back and forth on the basketball court a few dozen times - plus I smell like the what I would imagine the inside of his shoes would smell like after a game. It can’t get any worse!

“Honey, I’m so sorry I couldn’t get here any quicker, is my Schätze ok? Come to mommy, I’ll fix you some soup when we get home. Principal Williams, I absolutely forbid you to have Jackson play any more of that awful game, Dodgeball should be banned!” Oh god, my mother is here, and she is in full on mom mode. “Jackson, do you have breathing trouble, is your asthma acting up? I’m going to take you to the hospital, they might have broken your nose, or bones in your face, or who knows what. In the morning, I'm coming back and give that Coach a piece of my mind, I swear that man ist… Ganz Verückt! Ich werde seinen kopf haben!” Help me please, God, she’s speaking German again to the Principal.

“Mom, pblease shtop! Du sprichst weider Deutsch!” I yell. “I’mb ogay! Djust dake me home.”

“Here Jackson, I’ve got a shirt for you, take that wet one off!” says Principal Williams.

Of course, mom had to do it for me in spite of me trying to do it myself, and in the process, I’ve now got soap in my eyes from the wet shirt coming off. Hmmm, this new shirt feels weird, the collar is kinda rough, but, you know, I can’t see it!

“Deanna, do you want a ride home?” asked my mom.

“Thank you Mrs. Brown, do you have room for a couple of others? They live in between here and home. Jackson, I think that top is so cute on you!” she giggles.

Top?

“Sure, I’ve got the station wagon, the more the merrier.”

So now I am led outside, I can see a little bit but my eyes still hurt, and the entire club is waiting out there! There must be at least a couple of dozen other kids waiting for a bus that’s running late, and I’m trying to hide my face.

“Jackson!” the girls all yell. “Are you okay?” adds a few of them.

“I’mb ogay,” I mumble as I'm getting hugs. I hear a few of the other kids whispering, not very well, and they are talking about me. I wish I could just crawl into a hole. Deanna, Stephanie and Heather get into the car, Heather sits up front with mom and the other two herd me into the back seat with one on either side of me. As I’m leaving I overhear someone say “Cute top, I wonder where I can get one.” What's a top?