“Look!”
“Where?”
“There, its James!”
“Oh my god, you’re right!”
James was the most popular guy in the school. He was a total American boy, blond hair, played football and dated the most popular cheerleader in the school. I hated him. He always had all the girls after him, always a jerk. Rumor has it that he had the smartest kid in the school, doing any and all homework he had. I absolutely hated him. He led a perfect little life.

I was walking home one day, but was late, so I took a shortcut. I cut round the back of the 7-11 and made my way past a street in the back end of town. That’s when I saw him.

“Don’t you dare touch her!” he was screaming. He was in an argument with his dad. I was confused at first but then I saw her lying on the ground crying. It was his younger sister, Angela. She had a huge hand shaped bruise on her face, and her eyes were brimmed with tears. That’s when I realized that he wasn’t the luckiest person in the school. He wasn’t a total American boy. He had problems too, just like the rest of us.

I am ashamed of what I did next. I ran. That night when I looked up at the stars, I wished James Smith, sweet dreams.