Shell Shocked by Eric Walters

the only dance you’re going to get.”
    â€œShut up!” Brad yelled.
    â€œMaybe you should make me shut up. Just pretend I’m only ten years old … pretend I’m a girl … no way … you’re the little girl … a stupid, ugly, little—”
    â€œAaahhhh!” Brad screamed as he rushed at Jack.
    Jack sidestepped and then stuck out his foot. Brad tripped over it and crashed to the ground with a thunderous thud! He jumped to his feet and spun around and that’s when Jack smashed him right in the face! There was a gasp from the crowd, and Brad tumbled over backwards, hitting the ground like a fallen tree! His handswere clasped over his face, and there was blood, lots of blood, flowing around his fingers.
    â€œBreak it up!” came a voice from behind.
    It was Mr. McGregor. He moved forward and the crowd parted for him like Moses at the Red Sea, letting him through. He looked at Jack and then looked down at Brad, who was still on the ground but was now sitting up. Blood was dripping down his shirt and his nose looked like it was at a strange angle.
    â€œWhat is the meaning of this?” Mr. McGregor demanded. “This is a school, not a jungle. There is to be no fighting in my school.”
    â€œIt wasn’t much of a fight,” Jack snarled.
    Mr. McGregor’s expression turned to icy anger. “Both of you into my office, immediately!”
    Brad tried to get to his feet, but he staggered and sagged back down to the ground. Jack had really put a pasting on him.
    â€œYou!” he yelled at Jack. “Help him to his feet.”
    Jack shook his head. “I helped him down. Somebody else can help him up.” I couldn’t believe that Jack was defying the principal … wait, that was what he was supposed to be doing.
    â€œThat is an order!” Mr. McGregor yelled. “You are already facing a suspension. If you do not do as you are ordered then it will be an expulsion!”
    â€œDon’t waste your breath, old man. I’ve got better places to be than here. I’ll consider myself expelled!”
    Jack stomped away, brushing first past Mr. McGregor and then Brad. He walked right toward where I stood and the rest of the crowd stepped aside, making way for him to pass. He nodded at me and then gave me a little wink as he walked away. I turned and watched—everybody in the entire school watched—as he walked across the yard, through the gate and disappeared down the street.
    Wow … I had to give him credit. It had taken him less than an hour to get expelled, and he’d done it in a way that nobody there would ever forget. Especially not Brad.

CHAPTER TWELVE
    I SEARCHED the typewriter keys looking for the letter q . It didn’t seem to be there … okay, there it was, hiding in plain sight above the a key. I pushed it down. Using a typewriter seemed to be the hardest part of my new job. Finding something to write about was easy. Typing it up was hard. Now I had even more admiration for those secretaries down in the plant offices. They could type like there was no tomorrow. They didn’t even have to look at the keys. It was amazing.
    â€œSo, here it is!” It was Mr. Chalmers, the editor of The Commando and my boss. “Hot off the press. And you’re on page one.” He slapped a copy of the newsletter down on the desk.
    There it was, just below the fold of the paper, and the headline read, “Helping My Father Fight the Nazis!”
    â€œI didn’t expect it to be on the front page,” I said.
    â€œAnd I didn’t expect it to be so good.”
    â€œThanks.”
    â€œEspecially after that first article you wrote,” he added.
    â€œYou didn’t like it?” I asked, feeling both surprised and hurt.
    â€œNot particularly.”
    My first article had been introducing myself and explaining that I was going to be writing a regular column in the newsletter.
    â€œBut I have