I was Ten, he had a Flat Top

Between the middle and ring fingers, right above the red little scratches I got this weekend playing some ball...you see...

I'm not sure that it's my favorite scar but one that I certainly didn't think I would have this long.

So, this is how it happened; Adams Elementary (we were the Tigers), 5th Grade, afternoon recess... I was playing 5 on 5 basketball on the upper court with other kids, including my best friend Matt Jordan and my not so best friend Garrett Tadlock. We were on the same team.

Garrett was blonde.

Garrett had a flat top and was a ball hog. 

But we were on the same team that afternoon so I was trying to make it work. We were playing, and I wasn't the best ball player then, but the team concept was something I sorta believed in, so after a few times of watching Garrett shoot the ball without passing it to anyone else Matt and I began to feel some frustration and approached Garrett, we probably yelled at him to pass the ball, but with reason. Our suggestions were taken as encouragement for him to not pass and he continued his ways purposely for a bit longer...until, I said something to him that made him throw the ball at me and walk up to me in a confrontational way. I don't know what I said, I imagine it was bad but I said it and he was upset. Now this is where it gets either hazy, or over a period of time I just convinced myself of the story that I ended up relaying to my mother. As I recall, Garrett pushed me, and then I threw a jab at him. Connecting in the upper portion of his mouth, where his lip and the left side of his top teeth meet. I was a bit shocked I threw a punch, Garrett flew back and fell to the ground, ok he didn't, he just wobbled a bit. My friend Matt stared at us not knowing what to say and we just sorta walked away from each other. I'm not sure where Garrett went, but I needed to pee. It was in the bathroom when I was washing my hands that I noticed the gash in between my knuckles that would require five stitches, of which I wasn't too excited about. Garrett got a chipped tooth and a bloody lip, but my stitches were cooler.

Mrs Dearman, our principle, drove me to my auntie's home before getting stitched up, she was surprisingly sweet. I was frightened of her, but all the way home she was nice and said the stitches were probably punishment enough so no suspension would be needed. I like my scar, when my OCD was a bit more noticeable I would rub it if meeting new people or when nervous.

I think the story changes a little every-time I tell it, but the scar remains.