“There’s a hierarchy, kid,” I remember my dad telling me as he cleaned the blood from my face. “You’re the new blood.”
I didn’t understand what he meant. “What’s one of them?”
“Hierarchy?” he asked. I nodded. “It’s the position each person holds; who’s in charge and who keeps their head down.”
“Sounds stupid, dad.”
“It is. And it’s cruel. But you need to know your place if you want to get through high school.”
“And what is my place?”
“New blood, kid. Bottom of the food chain. You can’t go up to the most popular girl and try to flirt with her.”
“Sure I can,” I smirked. “I got her phone number.”
“Yeah, and then you got beaten up by her boyfriend.”
“So what should I do?” This whole hierarchy thing sounded pretty shit to me.
A deviant smile crossed his face. “You find a way to beat him, on your terms. Brains over brawn, kid.”
Response to three Word of the Day Challenge prompts
MS Poetry 