I wish I could hold my breath forever. Or maybe grow gills. Either one. Down here on the bottom of the pool, the other kids can’t bully me. Ma can’t nag me and Pa can’t scold me. It’s so nice and quiet, so calm and peaceful. I want to be Jacque Cousteau when I grow up.
Or maybe an astronaut. I’ll bet it’s like this in space, too. Then I’d be really far from the bullies.
But now I have to surface just long enough to get another breath.
