John was still smiling as we entered our classroom. I tip-toed around the cards the best I could, but the hall was busy and narrow. Tyler crawled on the floor, trying to pick them up before too many people stepped on them. They’re probably the same cards that scattered across the hallway when John tripped him. It gives him plenty of room to spread his cards out-the kind that have pictures of wizards and dragons on them. That’s the main reason he sits alone in the cafeteria no one can stand to watch him eat. Probably because he’s overweight, wears sweat pants every day, and dips whatever the lunch ladies serve us in ranch dressing. Tyler’s been nicknamed The Blob since second grade. John didn’t even stop to enjoy his evil deed, but called over his shoulder, Watch where you’re going Blob. Tyler fell and a deck of playing cards scattered across the hallway. It was the last week of sixth grade, the morning John Marten stuck his foot in front of Tyler.
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