You splash water on your face in attempt to fully wake yourself up. It’s cold. You look at your wall calendar and read the marked X’s until it stops on an unmarked square with Sport’s Day, 2012 typed on the bottom. You look at the single bullet-point you left there with “BEAT TOMMY WILSON” written in bold red.
Your parents drop you off at eight am at the Roanoke Colony historical park. You see all of the sporting events lined up on the field with crowds around each one. Football on one end, soccer on another, baseball neighboring that one. Then you see the carnival games. Sock-em-bopper boxing and the sumo-suit ring. There you see him. Tommy Wilson with his stupid-fat-freckled face, scratching his ass and picking his nose. You’ve been waiting all year for this day. You’ve jumped in a makeshift sumo-suit made of pillows, duct-tape, and cardboard every day this past year to get pay back. Last sports day, fat Tommy broke your nose. This year you’ll break his spirit.