Toby rose unsteadily to his feet. Blood trickled into his mouth from his broken nose. The sound of laughter receded as the gang of boys sauntered away down the hall. As Toby retrieved his books from the ground where they had fallen, he reflected yet again on how much he despised high school. As a child he had spent most of his time taking refuge from his brothers in his father's library. All through the eighth grade Toby had been overcome with excitement over high school. Imagine, all three brothers packed off to university. No one to pester, bully or tease him.
He would be home free. Toby snorted, what a joke.

As Toby walked home from school he consoled himself with the fact that he now had a broken nose. He had always wanted one. While young they make you look brave and heroic and when you become old they make you look worldly and wise. He pushed open his front door, still thinking on the merits of broken nose. Distracted, Toby completely missed his mother's reaction to his mangled face. “Toby,” she sighed, “did you get into another fight? Your brothers never got into this much trouble at school. You used to be such a good boy. What am I going to do with you?”

His mother was the queen of rhetorical questions. Toby responded by gingerly applying ice to his swollen eye. He refused to tell her what his brothers got up to at school, she was happier not knowing.

“Your brothers never went through this 'sullen teenager phase,' and your grades are dropping. I know how bright you are! Just look how much time you spend in that library and yet here you are wasting all your energy fighting. My mother always said...”

“I know, Mom,” Toby interrupted. “The pen is mightier than the sword. I know.”