User:Hermione Chase

Hi! I am Beth. Please read my story! It's like PJ & the Olympians:

My life was complete torture.

I am Adelfo. 12 year-old boy. Wondering why my name is so weird? It's Greek. I, too, am Greek. My father was Greek. He insisted my name being that. But he died in a gunshot at Lake Tahoe when I was 2.

Well, I am your typical trouble maker in 7th grade. I always have this feeling that something is telling me to cause some misfits. Like when there is a subsitute, I have this urge to lock him in a closet. When it is Field day, I imagine me stabbing my opponents to death. When it's Field trips, I feel like breaking a machine or a "glorious" piece of "art."

Speaking of fielf trips, we're on one to the Amauteur Museum of Art. Doubt it! You can so tell that Amateur Museum is a Metropolitan wanna-be. Like Metropolitan, this museum is torture. From the look on his face, Alardo agrees with me, too.

Alardo is my best friend. He, too, is Greek, as well as his name. Like me, he is a trouble maker. Most of my plots to cause commotion, Alardo is in on it. Alardo, well, he's a nerd. Well, atleast he is treated like a nerd. Not by me, but by the kids (I mean Silva DeJesus and her posse) around our school. To them, shoving him in lockers, stealing his lunch money, and giving him a good bruise seems to be the correct punishment. Poor guy. I mean right now, Silva is throwing french fries at him while he's eating. (We're eating on the stairs of the entrance)

"Silva, quit it!" Alardo turned around and ordered.

"Make me, skeleton bones!" Silva stuck her tongue at him and continued to throw french fries at his head.

Being a good friend, I decided to stick up for Alardo, "Hey, Silva! Do you need help from your posse to back you up on what I'm going to do to your face?"

I shouldn't have said that.

"Why, Adelfo! Not surprising to see you threatening another student," That was Mr. Harrington. He never liked what I did, whether it was good or bad.

He gave me in evil grin that meant I wasn't going to get anywhere, if I argued with him.

I sat back down, thinking of ways of what I could do with Silva's face.

"Adelfo, thanks for backing me up. But you know that whenever you try helping me out, you get in troube. Leave it to me," Alardo patted me on the back.

I gave him no answer or reply. I just went back to eating my PB&J sandwhich...which had hairs in it, thanks to Rowland.

Rowland is my greedy uncle that I live with. He is too careless to think about me. Everyday, when I come home, he gives me the same reply. ''Don't ask me to do anything for you. ''If I disagree with him, he gives me a good beating. So, I just go home, do my homework, have some food, and for the rest of the day, I think of my dead mother. She died when I was 10.

Anyways, Mr. Harrington, our chaperone, told us we were leaving.

<p style="border-style: initial; border-color: initial; color: rgb(213, 212, 212); background-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); ">As we piled onto the bus, I noticed something quite weird: Alardo was yelling at me to get the heck out of that bus.

<p style="border-style: initial; border-color: initial; color: rgb(213, 212, 212); background-color: rgb(0, 0, 0); ">(To be continued)