I polished off a muffin for my breakfast as I finished grading the history quizzes. I carefully placed the papers in my manila folder, and then finally in my messenger bag. I sighed deeply. Today was just going to be another day.

Every day was just another day in the sleepy town of Leadworth for me. Nothing ever happened and every day settled into a comfortable, inflexible schedule. I woke up, went to work, came home, went to bed and woke up, went to work, came home, went to bed the next day and every day after that. The most exciting thing happened several years ago when Melody Mitchell stole a school bus and nearly crashed it into the duck pond. The town talked about it months afterwards. All the way from the old ladies knitting circle to the men in the pubs formed an opinion about the town's "wayward child" as Jenifer Anderson, the town's resident centenarian, put it.

Melody was the center of many scandals growing up: from the infamous love triangle in 9th grade to the brawl in 4th grade. Two kids went home with a broken nose and many more with an assortment of bruises and scrapes. Melody was as free as the wind and twice as brazen. Never having discovered a filter for her mouth, Melody would say whatever came to mind and to make matters worse she was infatuated with Amelia Pond's imaginary friend, the Doctor.

I remember grading Melody's papers. All of her answers in some way pointed to the Doctor. Any horrible event in history happened because "the Doctor wasn't there to stop it." I sent her to the office more than once for those kinds of answers in class. Her responses lacked thought and careful consideration of all the facts. Nevertheless Melody deliberately continued. It became almost a joke to her classmates when Melody answered any question. Melody ignored the giggles and the derisive laughter. She carried herself as a martyr persecuted for her faith.

Through all of Melody's troubles two things remained constant: the presence of Rory Williams and Amelia Pond. They stuck with Melody through thick and thin. Whether it was waiting for Melody to be dismissed from detention or posting bail for yet another car theft, Amy and Rory were there to get her out of trouble.

They were very close friends, especially at school. You would think they were related. I jumped for joy when they left my class. Rory was a nice, quiet, respectful kid, but the two girls were an entirely different matter. They were rude, disrespectful, and plain intimidating. They scared me and they knew it. The two girls wielded their power over me like a tyrannical dictator. I hardly ever gave homework when those two were in my class. One mean look from Amy or Melody and I turned into a stammering idiot with a degree.

It really wasn't my fault. I was quiet and reserved by nature preferring an evening at home with a good book and cup of coffee to "a night on the town." I hated direct confrontation and under pressure I would give way to anything. People called me nice. I called myself a coward. It should have been easy to control two little girls, but they were loud and intimidating. Amy had this fiery passion and frizzy red hair that made me retreat into my shell. Melody had this smart mouth that could cut you into pieces. Together they were the unequivocal rulers of the whole school.

I did my best to avoid them whenever possible, but Leadworth was a really small town. There was nowhere to hide. Even though Amy and Melody graduated and one had a paying job, I still ran into them. I just hope I don't bump into them today.

I glanced at the clock and realized to my horror I was running late for work.

I work as the eighth grade teacher at the Leadworth Public School. Though calling it a school was stretching it a bit. The entire school served 45 students in grades 1-8. The government had tried many times to shut down the small, nondescript school, but inevitably failed. The teachers, parents, and all 45 students banded together to protest vehemently. In fact, the entire sleepy town awoke with new vigor and bristled with picket signs. The government quickly stopped poking that hornet nest.

And it was to that job I was running late. I took a couple steps towards the door before stopping then dashing to my bedroom to grab my car key. I ran to the door and opened it, carelessly letting it slam behind me. I hurriedly jogged down the steps to my car. The whole time I anxiously counted out the minutes, desperately trying to conserve every second. I fished through my pockets and triumphantly pulled them out of my pocket.

I unlocked the door. I only cracked it slightly when a well manicured hand snatched the keys from my hand. The owner of the hand, Amy, shoved a skinny, raggedy middle aged man into my car by his tie. She jammed his dilapidated tie into my car door and closed it. To finish it off she locked my car door with a flourish. The whole incident took only a second. If I had blinked I would have missed it.

I stood dumbfounded. Amy's ferocity and efficiency took the man and I by surprise. I stared at Amy startled into submission. Like a hare, my heart beat wildly in my chest as I waited for her next move. The man was in no means subdued. He kept trying to pull his tie out. He pushed against the door.

I am quite ashamed of myself, but I did nothing to help the poor man. I glanced guiltily at my watch. I needed to get to school. I need my car. I looked at Amy. She had my keys.

The man stopped struggling. He must have realized how futile his attempts were. That was my first life lesson. Don't try if something is too hard; you're only bound to fail. Don't get involved with drama. Avoid direct confrontations. And here I was, needing to confront Amy.

The man looked at Amy. His gaze was so intense that he transformed from victim to contender in this battle of wills in my mind.

"Are you out of your mind?" he asked Amy. A bit rhetorical in my opinion.

Amy ignored the question with extreme prejudice.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"You know who I am."

"No, really who are you?" Amy demanded.

It was so melodramatic, it was almost funny.

"Look at the sky, end of the world: 20 minutes," the spoke quickly and urgently.

Normally, I would laugh at people who make apocalyptic remarks, but the fervent gleam in his eyes made me look at the sky. The sun looked like it was dying. The world was ending. Doomsday prophets were having the time of their life; running around rubbing it in.

Amy seemed not to believe him. She easily dismissed his grandiose statement as a question about the weather.

"Well better talk quickly then," she said.

I looked at Amy with her wild hair and glaring eyes that always reduced me to a stammering idiot. If the world really was going to end then I could be brave and stand up for myself. After all we only had 20 minutes to live; time to make some changes. I gathered all that embarrassment and humiliation that I suffered at her and Melody's hands and I did something I wanted to do ever since I met Amy; I spoke up.

"Amy," I said, "I am going to need my car back." My voice came out as quiet as a mouse. I wanted to punch myself. I sounded as if I was asking for her permission. I didn't need her permission. It was my car. Unfortunately, for me Amy's keen coyote ears picked up on my tiny squeak.

She looked at me as if I was the scum on the bottom of her shoe. I might as well have been from all the times I let her push me around.

"Yes in a minute. Now go have coffee," she dismissed me.

My face burned and I squirmed under her powerful gaze. All the strength I gathered deflated. I was like a balloon with a hole punched in the side. I was useless. I was a coward.

"Right, yes," I said and walked away.

My one chance to stand up against Amy and I caved. I walked away. I would always walk away. Someday Amy will be the one to walk away.