{"id":1020,"date":"2019-02-10T13:41:51","date_gmt":"2019-02-10T18:41:51","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/read.whitefire-publishing.com\/?p=1020"},"modified":"2019-10-29T07:56:48","modified_gmt":"2019-10-29T11:56:48","slug":"the-pillow-fight-professional","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/whitefire-publishing.com\/read\/the-pillow-fight-professional\/","title":{"rendered":"The Pillow Fight Professional"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
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\n

The Pillow Fight Professional<\/h3>\n\n\n\n

by Angela Ruth Strong<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

I, Joey Michaels, am the Pillow Fight Professional. Basically this means I\u2019m training a bunch of my sister\u2019s friends to hold their own against older siblings. Unfortunately, when the girls win a pillow fight at an overnighter, those older siblings aren\u2019t very happy with me. I\u2019m forced to plan a pillow fight to end all pillow fights. Me and the girls against a bunch of bigger boys.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Winning the pillow fight would be a lot easier without the following three problems:<\/p>\n\n\n\n

1) Brock, the bully, who has never lost a pillow fight\u2014or any fight for that matter
2) Isabelle, my partner, who may quit if she figures out that I\u2019m using a bunch of girls to fight my battle for me
3) My team of little girls, who want to wear footie pajamas as our uniform<\/p>\n\n\n\n

If we win, I\u2019ll get to keep the new bike I worked so hard for. If we lose, well \u2026 I won\u2019t let us lose. I can do this all on my own if I have to. Because I got da moves.<\/em><\/p>\n<\/div><\/div>\n\n\n\n

\n\t\t\t\t\t

Chapter 1<\/span><\/span><\/h3>\n\t\t\t\t\t

Forrest Gump was known for saying that life was like a box of chocolates. You never knew what you were going to get.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I rammed\nmy fist into a punching bag hanging from the ceiling. My knuckles ignited with\nwhat felt like fire. I shook my hand out to get rid of the burn.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Dad carried a box of electronic\nequipment past me to the corner of Mom\u2019s new aerobics studio in the fitness\ncenter my parents had decided to build. Grand opening this weekend. Which meant\nDad would finally get to run his own company with all the business lessons he\u2019d\nbeen giving me, and Mom would make money teaching other women how to dance in a\nZumba class. They also hired other trainers who would teach the awesome classes\nlike kickboxing and boot camp.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJoe,\nyou probably want to wait to punch the bag until the boxing gloves I ordered\narrive.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Oh.\nYeah. That would help.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I lifted\na leg instead and whipped the top of my foot around, planting shoelaces in the\nmiddle of the bag like I was a karate champion. Then I spun and rammed my other\nfoot straight behind me into the pretend opponent. \u201cTake that,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Because\npretend fighting isn\u2019t as fun without a little smack talk.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The bag\nswung away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Imagining\nit to be the bad guy retreating, I lifted my arms overhead in victory and faced\nmy make-believe crowd of adoring fans.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I could\nalmost hear them whistling and clapping.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI got\nda moves!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Oof.<\/em> What felt like a brick wall\nslammed into my back. Revenge of the punching bag.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\nstumbled forward, tripped on my own foot, and did the only thing I could think\nof to keep from crashing to the ground. I screamed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\ndidn\u2019t work. The shiny, new wood floor rushed up to greet me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\nreached my hands out and tried to stop my fall, but gravity won, and I slammed\nmy face against the slick, wooden planks.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A\nstabbing pain ricocheted through my skull. I rolled onto my back to ease the\npressure, but little birdies flew around my head anyway. I closed my eyes to block\nthe dizziness I\u2019d feel if I watched their circular flight pattern.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou certainly\ngot da moved<\/em> by the punching bag.\u201d\nDad said. He didn\u2019t seem too worried. He probably figured a little concussion\nwas nothing compared to my past accidents of breaking ribs, breaking my nose,\nand slicing a thumb open.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I opened\nmy eyes. \u201cSure.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

No\nreason to interrupt him from work. I\u2019d just check myself out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\nreached for my face to see if fire crackers had really been shoved up my\nnostrils or if it just felt like an explosion.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Huh.\nStill in one piece.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\ngingerly swiped the tingling skin underneath my nose to test for blood, and my\nhand came away clean.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Another\ngood sign.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019d be\nable to stand up in a few minutes when the ceiling stopped spinning.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sneakers\nsqueaked against hardwood. Isabelle\u2019s multiple heads appeared above me.\nGradually they merged into one face as my vision focused. \u201cWhat happened to\nyou?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Lying on\nthe floor after getting beat up by gym equipment was not a good way to impress\nthe girl. \u201cI\u2019m taking a break from my workout.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She\nsmiled. \u201cYou got your caboodle kicked by a punching bag, didn\u2019t you?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I pushed\nmyself up, acting as if I was okay, but my super loud grunt of pain might have\ngiven me away. \u201cMaybe.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell,\nyour eyes are turning black like your sister\u2019s, but at least she was beat up by\na real person just now.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

All the\nwords from Isabelle\u2019s sentence faded away except for the part about black eyes.\nI\u2019d never had a black eye before, but even if I had, that wasn\u2019t nearly as cool\nas having two<\/em> black eyes. I cranked\nmy head toward the wall of mirrors to admire the beautiful battle wounds.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Wowza<\/em>. I crawled closer to my\nreflection to get a better look at the dark purple rings forming.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Isabelle\u2019s\nimage frowned above me. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Why? She\nhad to be a little fascinated with my injury. What had she said about it?\nSomething about how I looked like \u2026 oops \u2026 my little sister. I gritted my teeth\nas I stood. And not just because standing made my forehead throb. \u201cWhat\nhappened to Christine?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Dad\nlooked up from the stereo. \u201cSomething happened to Christine?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I could\nbe annoyed that Dad seemed more concerned with my sister\u2019s injury than mine,\nbut she probably wouldn\u2019t be as proud of her black eyes as I was. She might\neven cry about it. So, considering the drama Dad was about to face, I forgave\nhim in advance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Isabelle\nnodded her head toward the door leading to the weight room floor and lobby.\n\u201cShe\u2019s putting ice on her eye, because she got knocked over in a pillow fight\nat a slumber party this morning. I followed her on my little brother\u2019s bike to\nmake sure she was okay.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Dad\npushed to his feet. \u201cThanks, Isabelle,\u201d he said, though he didn\u2019t even look at\nher on his way out the door.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\ntrailed after him, then stopped and turned back to Isabelle. \u201cWait, who knocked\nher over?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHannah\u2019s\nbig brother, Brock.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\nsquinted and shook my head. Had I gotten brain damage from my fall? Because I\ncouldn\u2019t have heard that right. \u201cDid you say Brock hit Christine with a\npillow?\u201d Brock was taller than I was. He should have been outside shooting\nhoops or rescuing kittens from trees or doing other tall-kid things, not\npicking on little girls at a slumber party.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Isabelle\nlifted a shoulder like she was just as baffled. \u201cYep.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThat\nmakes me want to whack him<\/em> with a\npillow.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cLike\nyou whacked that punching bag?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHush.\u201d\nI wouldn\u2019t have turned my back on Brock the way I had the punching bag. But I\nwasn\u2019t going to try to explain that to Isabelle. Justifications couldn\u2019t change\nthe fact that she\u2019d seen me lying on the floor. So I\u2019d simply ignore her to go\ncheck on Christine.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Isabelle\nfollowed me past the front desk into a small break room\/storage room with a\nmini fridge and a bunch of big stability balls.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Christine\nlay backward over a couple of balls with an ice pack to her face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Dad\npassed us on his way out. \u201cWatch her for a moment, Joe. I\u2019m going to go call\nyour mother.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mom\nwould be sure to freak out, being dramatic that way.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cCan I\nsee, sis?\u201d If the rings under her eyes were darker than mine, that would\ndetract completely from any coming attention my accident might get. Everybody\nwould look at me and be like, Yeah, but\nhave you seen Christine? <\/em>Rather than, Oh,\nmy dear Josiah, how did you survive such horrendous adversity? Pray, tell me\nevery alarming detail.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Hmm. Now\nthat I thought about it, maybe it was a good thing Christine had a black eye.\nThen I wouldn\u2019t be forced to tell my embarrassing story. Though I bet I could\ncome up with a vague way to make the punching bag attack sound dark and\nominous, like a figure dressed all in black who jumped out at me from an alley\nwhen I was in the middle of doing a good deed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Christine\nremoved the bag of ice and angled her head toward me\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\ngasped. Yikes. Her right eye had swollen up to the size of a golf ball. It\nwasn\u2019t black so much as puffy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDon\u2019t\nlaugh. I might have to go to my first day of sixth grade like this if the\nswelling doesn\u2019t go down.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\ncovered my mouth to hide a smile. Laughing would just make her mad, because she\nwas at the age where she\u2019d started taking her appearance seriously. But wasn\u2019t\nlaughter supposed to be the best medicine? Besides, she really did look funny.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Isabelle\nnudged me with her shoulder. \u201cIf he laughs, Christine, just ask him what\nhappened to his <\/em>face.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My\nchuckles melted away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Christine\u2019s\ngood eye studied me. \u201cDid you get in a pillow fight too?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cUh \u2026\u201d What\nif I had<\/em> used a pillow on the sneaky\npunching bag earlier? That would actually be good practice for a real pillow\nfight. Maybe I could give Christine some lessons for the next time a friend\u2019s\nolder brother attacked.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Christine\u2019s\ngood eye widened. \u201cDid you get into a fight with Brock? Were you standing up\nfor me?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Fight\nBrock? No way! \u201cActually, I was coming up with a way to help you<\/em> fight back.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Isabelle\nstuck a hand on her hip. I knew I had to talk fast before she interrupted me\nwith her version of my TKO\u2014Technical Knock Out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cMom and\nDad hung some punching bags in the aerobics room.\u201d I explained my side of the\nstory. \u201cThrough hands-on training, I discovered that if you kick the bags, they\nswing away. But then they swing back, and you have to defend yourself or duck\nif you don\u2019t want to get hit. It would be the perfect way for you to improve as\na pillow fighter.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Christine\ngroaned and dropped her head back down, reapplying the ice.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Isabelle\nrolled her eyes my way. \u201cHands-on training? Don\u2019t you mean\u2014?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAre\nthere any more slumber parties coming up?\u201d If I could divert her attention, I\nmight be able to avoid a pointless argument with Isabelle.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTristan\u2019s\nlittle sister, Molly, has a back-to-school slumber party on Friday.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Ah yeah.\nI\u2019d love to see Tristan get beat up by girls.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Christine\nsighed. \u201cBut I don\u2019t know if I want to go now.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWhat?\u201d\nI threw my arms out wide. \u201cAre you going to avoid slumber parties for the rest\nof your life? Or are you going to stand up for yourself and learn to pillow\nfight like a pro?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Isabelle\nblinked, and her mouth fell open.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Sure,\nthe only pillow fight I\u2019d ever been involved in centered around a pillow shaped\nlike a light saber. (Mom was scared I\u2019d break stuff if I had the hard plastic\ntoy weapon). But that didn\u2019t mean I couldn\u2019t coach my sister to overnight\nsuccess.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t\nwant to give up slumber parties forever<\/em>.\u201d\nThe whine in Christine\u2019s voice meant she had taken the bait.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAnd\nwhat about your first youth group lock-in at church?\u201d I demanded. \u201cYou\u2019ve\nwaited your whole life to attend. Are you going to stay home rather than risk\nthe chance of a pillow flying through the room toward you? Because it happens.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Isabelle\nclosed her eyes and massaged her temples as if she were the one with a headache\nfrom head-butting the floor. \u201cJoe, the only pillow that flew through the air at\nthe last lock-in was yours.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cExactly.\u201d\nI\u2019d thrown the pillow to claim my sleeping spot on the floor nearest the\nkitchen, so I could be first in line for breakfast in the morning. But that\nwasn\u2019t the point. \u201cWho better than me to teach my dear little sis the tricks of\nthe trade?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The\nfront door whooshed open, allowing the roar of car engines and lawnmowers to\ngrow louder. Flip-flops slapped the cement floor of the entryway.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mom\u2019s\nform appeared in the doorway, her hair shiny wet from a recent shower, and wearing\nsome crazy outfit that made her look like a clown. She must have thrown on the\noutfit in a rush. \u201cChristine!\u201d Mom leaped across the room and stooped down next\nto my sister in one smooth motion.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHi,\nMom,\u201d I said, in case she hadn\u2019t seen me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mom\ncaressed Christine\u2019s face and gently pulled the ice away. She didn\u2019t smile at\nthe sight of Christine\u2019s puffy eye the way I had. \u201cDid you do this, Joey?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I leaned\nback and wrinkled my forehead, though I really shouldn\u2019t be surprised at the\nquestion. \u201cWhat? No. I did this<\/em>.\u201d I\npointed to my own face.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mom\nglanced up. \u201cAt least your eyes aren\u2019t swelling. But you should probably put\nice on them too.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I trudged\nover to the mini fridge to humor her, so she could go back to taking care of my\nsister. I can never keep ice packs on as long as I\u2019m supposed to. Too cold.\nPlus, it requires staying still.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Christine\nrolled up to sit on the big, bouncy ball. She must also get tired from staying\nstill for too long.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mom\nangled my sister\u2019s face this way and that. \u201cBaby, what happened?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPillow\nfight at Hannah\u2019s slumber party.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cPillow\nfight?\u201d Mom said, like it was a dirty word. \u201cDoes Hannah\u2019s dad know?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Christine\nshook her head. \u201cI left on my bike as soon as it happened, because I didn\u2019t\nwant anybody to see me cry. But Isabelle saw me from across the street and followed\nto make sure I would be all right.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cAre<\/em> you all right? Do you have a\nheadache? Are you nauseated or dizzy? Do we need to take you to the doctor?\u201d\nMom rambled off questions at a pace too quick for Christine to answer. \u201cI\nshould call Hannah\u2019s dad. He needs to be aware of any injuries that happen at\nhis house. Maybe you shouldn\u2019t go over there for slumber parties. Maybe we\nshouldn\u2019t do slumber parties anymore. Maybe\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maybe\nMom should take a moment to breathe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Christine\nheld up a hand. \u201cI\u2019m fine, Mom. Accidents happen. You don\u2019t have to ban all\nslumber parties because of one little pillow fight.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Hey.\nChristine wasn\u2019t wimping out after all. I rubbed my hands together in\nexpectation of the lessons to come.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Mom\nstood. \u201cKeep the ice on it, baby. I\u2019m going to go see what your dad found out\nonline. I\u2019ll call Ask-a-Nurse too and see if we need to make a doctor\u2019s appointment.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Christine\nnodded, and Mom rushed out with her usual flair. I tossed my ice back in the\nmini fridge. Then Isabelle and I watched Christine test the puffiness around\nher eye with her fingers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI\u2019m\nscared to look in the mirror,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Isabelle\nsank down on a ball next to her. \u201cIt doesn\u2019t look that bad.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\ncovered my smile again.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cJoe!\u201d\nIsabelle kicked a ball at me.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I held\nup my hands in surrender. We didn\u2019t need to add any more injuries to our day.\nEspecially since Mom was there to overreact to everything.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The\nrubber ball bounced harmlessly off my shins.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cDon\u2019t\nget angry at me,\u201d I said. \u201cI\u2019m not the one who hurt Christine. I\u2019m the one\noffering to help her fight back.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Isabelle\nshook her head and looked to heaven, but Christine placed a hand on our\nfriend\u2019s shoulder to calm her.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Then my\nsister stood, lifted her chin, tossed her shoulders back, and narrowed her good\neye in determination. \u201cI want your pillow fight lessons, Joe. No, I need<\/em> your pillow fight lessons. Because\nif this ever happens again, I know Mom will ban me from slumber parties, and\nthat would ruin my life. I am the slumber party queen!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I don\u2019t\nknow about being a queen, but she was definitely my little sister, and it was\nup to me to take care of her. Time to turn Christine into a lean, mean, pillow fight\nmachine.<\/p>\n\n\n