diesel nikke

Towards the middle of the semester, Mrs. B. devised an assignment where we had to act out a soliloquy from any Shakespeare play. I chose Marc Antony’s “Friends, Romans, Countrymen” speech from Julius Caesar. As we had to be in costume for extra credit, I brought a flat sheet to school to fashion into a toga of sorts. There was a supply closet in the front of the room where people could change. Boys would pretend to peek in the closet when girls were changing. There wasn’t much to see for the most part, as girls might throw a long night gown over their clothes to play Juliet. The door locked on the outside when closed completely, so the few kids with major changes could do so with some privacy.

“Oooooh…” Mrs. B whispered, not pulling away, but neither joining in. “Really, I can’t let you do that. It’s too much.”“Didn’t you like it?” I asked.

Noah then struck Viktor’s elbow, breaking his arm. Viktor screamed and tried to pull away, but Noah silenced him with a jab to the Adam’s Apple. Crippled by pain and struggling to breathe, Viktor desperately swung at Noah with his other burning hand, but just like before, Noah grabbed his arm and then broke it. Noah then slammed his knee into the young man’s solar plexus over and over, not stopping until he was puking blood. He held Viktor by the collar to keep him upright, and from there, the punches began, Noah’s fist striking Viktor’s face with rapid speed and crushing force, splattering blood and disfiguring flesh. Noah had pummeled Galvin the same way in their duel, moving his arm like a piston.