< Stasik's scars >

Year 12 at school in Australia (final year of high school).

For various reasons, I hadn't made many friends after coming to Australia. I had school friends, whom I hung out with at school, but outside of school, I was mostly on my lonesome. One of my school friends was a girl from a year below. She was doing a year 12 I.T. subject, so that was the only class we had together. We spent the whole of that class together, there was a lot of friendly banter, sometimes not-so-friendly banter. I'm not sure whether either of us fancied the other, so it was an unusual guy-girl symbiotic friendship.

Publicly humiliating each other was part of our repertoire. She would publicly chastise me for being such a nerd and tell me to go to hell to visit my family. I in turn... can't remember my comebacks. After a particularly successful "move the chair before she sits down" manoeuvre (for which I still feel bad for and I don't think I even apologised for), she decided that a fitting retort would be physical pain. She must have envisioned me, begging for mercy, as she cackles manically with lightning flashing behind her eyes, screaming "I AM POWDER!!!".

She obviously hadn't read Stasik's Scars series, and she wasn't to know that a common pastime of my childhood was playing mercy using pressure points, a game, if I recall correctly, I have never lost. She dug her fingernail into the fleshy part of where my index and thumb meet, which was met with a bored look and an eye-roll from me. She didn't let up. As I watched a drop of blood run down my hand I was impressed both by her dedication and skill, it was actually getting to be very painful. I thought that breaking skin was quite a good effort. After a while, she had to concede defeat, for NO PUNY WOMAN HANDS CAN SHAKE THIS STEELY RUSSIAN EXTERIOR!!

We kept in touch a little after school, but as my English got better, I turned into an egotistical asshole and she moved to Ireland.

The crescent shaped scar is now a bittersweet reminder of those days.