I finally realize that my whole body is in a bag of some sort. I’m tumblin’ around in there, and I think my foot’s coming into my mouth. That’s how uncomfortable I am. I am just rollin’ around in a tiny space, and like, someone’s carrying me somewhere. I remember that my parents took me to a class to learn Krav Maga to defend myself if I was ever in a situation like this.
Believe it or not, I was a little bit excited. It’s fun to show adult criminal people that you’re much better than they are, ‘cause truth is you probably are. . . especially if you’re a kid. You can fit through tight spaces, and you’ll be a good target. That means more time to show off your skills.
I just want to burst outta of that bag. Well, I try to. It is a really thick cloth that will be hard to break through. I kinda wish Cath was there for once. She may have been really annoying, but she has an artist’s brain like Miranda. She just doesn’t realize it. She could’ve told me to bring a pocket knife or something! ‘Cause she actually thinks stuff through. And now this bag is makin’ me wanna barf because it smells like underwear that hasn’t been washed for weeks.
I feel multiple hands grabbing my back, and I realized whoever is carrying me somewhere must have pretty good muscle to carry me this far. The ride is so bumpy, I might fall over. I heard a scream. It sounded like; Herl! I remember when Miranda used to call me Herl. So I called her Herm. And soon, all of our friends got names. Cathleen was Herc. Jenna was called Herj. We kinda used them as our code names. Except for Cath, of course. When we tried to climb on the roof of the school, we used ‘em. And then Cath guilted us outta it. Did I mention? I have exceptional climbing skills. I play “climb on the stall doors” in the bathroom, and here and there, I may be able do a few flips in midair. I almost died last time I tried that.
I suddenly fall to the ground with a thud. But the bag doesn’t get opened. I just sit there. Seriously? I don’t get to show anyone how awesome I am! No Indiana Jones adventure!
I hear a loud cry. Cry-babies. Kinda sound like Cathleen. I’ve always known her as the “way too emotional” type. I’ve never been a crier. Pain? Bring it on. I wanna tear open the bag and tell Cath that she needs to grow up. Not to be rude to ya, Cath. Cath’s just not my fave person. Finally, I’m feelin’ more air fill up my lungs. I know that the sack opened. Just not in the location I may have preferred.