Lumpy

“How did we meet you ask? It wasWell about 3 years ago give or take some months when I had first started school at Applecroft Academy. I remember how awkward he was when he walked into the classroom on the first day of class. IAll remember thinking was that he wasn\'t going to survive the year here, and i was almost in tears laughing thinking about it. This school was going to chew him up and spit him out. Applecroft Academy for the exceptionally talented. This is where I went. It was the most prestigious art school in all of Ggreat Bbritain. From a young age I i was told this was the place to be, this was the place to work hard to get into. This school picked only the select few, whose families had bred their children in the few prestigious bloodlines left in englandYou needed to be a certain way to get into Applecroft. You had to come from a certain class and economic background. My parents were extremelyvery very influential in my town., Iin fact, my father was the mayor and my mother had one of the hottest restaurants aroundwas the Hottest chef in town. Now i look back on it, I matched every requirement to getI guess i was a shoe in into the academy, but this kid, tThis outsider. I would forever be confused as to how he got into this school. We called him Llumpy from after about a week an early onset at the school. He was tremendously...large to say the least. He was very overweight and walked with a bit of a waddle. He fat, and came into school so disheveled every day. His uniform was dirt stained and untucked, and his hair was a matted mess. Neither hair nor clothes looked as if itd been washed in weeks. He wasn’t Bbritish like everyoneanyone else at the school. To be honest, I i never did find out where exactly he came from.
OurMy weirdly awkward relationship started with him one blustery autumn morning out when we were out on the football pitch. Now not to brag, but at this school I wasam very well known for my football abilities. I could rainbow it over anyone\'s head.
“Do you think you could teach me how to play?” He mumbled as he sautered over to me. He kept his hands in his pockets and his head down. “I never learned how to back home.”
“I...I...um well,” I stammered tried to hold back my laughter, “You know I don’t like you right? Can you even dribble?”He came up to me and mumbled asking if I could teach him to play.
I don’t like you, and you’re not my friend. I hope you know that.” I said to him. He mumbled something else inaudible and stared down at his feet.

Hey are you brothers with Lumpy the dunce now?” yelled my nemesis Malcolm Terris. He was a firsty like myself, meaning we were both freshman. Our families hadve been rivals for generations I guess, and that hatred has carried over even to now. Malcolm ran over to us laughing. “You really are the lowest of the low,.” he chuckled to me as he pulled out his phone. He snapped a picture, and then shoved Lumpy to the ground. Still cackling like a hyena, he gave a fake yell. “Oh my god I nearly lost my arm in his fat.” I walked up and stood threeabout 3 inches from his face looking dead into his eyes. I told him.
“All this shit youre talking is going to be all the more funny when Ii teach him to beat your arse.” I shoved him back, “Now let\'s play some ball why don\'t we.” I walked back and held my arm out for Lumpy to take. “This doesn’t make you my friend. I hope you know that.” I said to him. He mumbled something else inaudible and smiled slightly. “But I will teach you to play.

From that day on Lumpy stuck to me like some bad jam. I hated it. Stupid fat oafAmericans. I tried to train him, and get him in as best shape as possible, to no