When I was in grade four, I was the Mercy* Champion. I could beat out every single person in my grade. I was kick @ass. A boy named Joey Stewart was in close second, and admittedly, he made me say "mercy" first a couple of times. But in the end, everyone knew that I was the best.

At the beginning of grade five, after summer vacation (and little-to-no Mercy practice), Joey challenged me.

Lunch time. We faced each other. We held hands (this, by the way, I always got a kick out of, because I was super-geeky and I was holding hands with a super-popular boy that I had a crush throughout the entire of grades 3, 4, 5 AND 6), and began.

Suddenly, I was losing. My fingers weren't nearly as flexible as they were two months ago. I was in so much pain, but I didn't want to lose out on my Mercy Champion title. The bell rang to go back inside. I panicked. I was on the verge of losing. My fingers ached.

So, I swiftly brought my knee up between his legs, and he fell to the ground.

I kept my title.

He didn't pick himself up until everyone else came inside. He also never played Mercy with me again.

*The game of standing facing someone, fingers locked together, bending each others fingers back as far as possible, and not giving up until one person says "mercy."