I was a kind, respectful person throughout my entire life. Unfortunately, there are those who just are mean for the sake of being mean, or have problems. I always loved wolves. At some point of my life, I actually did dislike werewolves, but that was because the media portrayed them to being monsters most of the time. So here I am in 7th grade, still figuring out if I truly am a wolf. My parents, friends, and teachers always said that I had a big temper, but I was considerate. But this wasn't just any temper. I was in gym class, playing hockey with several guys. One of them happened to be my rival. He wanted to start talking trash about me, (Has been going on for a while.) and I couldn't take it. I told him to wazz off, and turned my back. He went up and sucker punched me, twice! (I'm glad he wore gloves, but he still caused some damage.) I laid on the floor like I'd been knocked out, but I wasn't. Rage had built inside of me, ready to burst. My brain snapped. I ran at him and jumped in the air. Now, for a 7th grader, I wasn't that tall, and I could hardly even touch the basketball net. I could have sworn when I had jumped, I was ABOVE THE BASKETBALL RIM. Even I did see it out of the corner of my eye, I didn't care. I had my hands out in front of me like I was about to slice him with my claws. Unfortunately, he caught me, and I tried to struggle out of his grip. What caught me off guard was when I thought to myself; "I shouldn't be in the air this long..." He let me go after a few seconds, and everyone stared at me, not saying anything. I went into the storage room to let out some left over rage. (I ended up breaking a hockey stick and a lock.) Sometime afterwards, I met with one of my counselors who told me; "You have to learn not to release the beast on people." Or something like that. When she said that, I became afraid of myself. I had no idea what power I had. After that, I began to find out more about myself and wolves.